Memories

One for the road

Travel Tales, , , , ,
The sights are so many. The sounds are ear numbing. The mind tries to absorb all what comes by. The eyes are focused on the road. The heat is omni present.

The car’s air-conditioner is at work. As much as it can. Its some years old now. And it shows. The suns heat has been there forever. That shows too.

Its having an impact. All of this. To compound an already clouded mind. Clouded with work and its facets. Family and its facets. The home and the broken faucets.

The mind sows the seed for a head ache to take shape. The head is fertile ground. For such sowing. Tiredness germinates. Its becoming clear as to where all this would lead to. Beeps go off somewhere within. Auto triggered alarm bells within the confines of the mind.

Adding to the clamour.

That’s precisely when the sugar cane juice vendor is spotted. He pushes sugarcane into heavy machinery. Those wheels by the side, move with precision. Out flows concentrated juice. A slice of lemon. And some ginger. And some ice later, the drink is nursed.



As it sinks into a parched throat, the mind seems to be affected. The noises quieten. He sells more. A Small costs Rs.3/-. A large costs Rs.5/-. He can almost sense that the throat is parched enough for more. And proposes a ‘Jumbo’ for Rs.7/-.

In some time, what was grown in some field somewhere, rests in the glass at hand. The throat is a lot less parched. The mind seems to be a lot less noisy. Was there a connection ? There is wonder. As usual.

In satisfaction, the eyes roam. And spot the large tender coconuts sold. Just some distance away. The parched throat is no longer parched. The mind is still in its quenched trance. Yet, the tender coconuts beckon.



There are memories of having tender coconuts. In fields. Roadsides. Travel. With special people. With strangers. All alone. Lows. Highs. A million thoughts rush back. Its almost as though the tender coconuts beckon for re-living of those memories.

He is doubtful of any sale. For he has seen the Jumbos getting gulped with a ferocity of a ravenous glutton.

For only a fleeting second. ‘”The one with water'”, escapes the throat with almost quaint insult to the Jumbo glasses of Sugarcane juice. He gives a wide grin.

The mind seems to rise in protest. Somewhere, that protest is quelled with one statement : ‘This ones for the road’.

A sigh escapes. A smile uses the same escape route too. The mind is quiet. In some time, so is the air-conditioner in the car.

Such are not made often.

Word Cache, , ,
Through the meandering journey of life, there are are many that we meet. Some are acquaintances. Others pass by. Yet others pass through. And you realise how true this quote about life being a stage and the many actors who jump in and out is..

And of course, some stay. And out of the some that stay, a few touch you. A few others make you laugh. A few others make you think. And of those that make you think, there’s this handful that make you stretch and discover your horizons.

Well, this post is about one such man who did a bit of everything.

Who just stood tall by being himself. Who towered by discovering and getting people grow taller. Who continued standing for whats right, and instilling a sense of right and wrong in the people around him.

A man whose passion for industrial relations knew no bounds. A man for whom development of people was an inherent program which treated this English word spelt ‘b-o-u-n-d-a-r-y’ as unrecognisable code.

A man, who never lost the child in him. A man who has kept at lifelong learning. A man who took to blogging and tweeting rather late in life. But has gone the mile in these journeys.

A man who has touched many lives. Across many strata of society. In his own quiet way.

A man who is busy reinventing himself as i write this. Plotting a new career. And pushing his own limits ‘to pursue things that he always wanted to’

Just as he retires, today, from the organisation that he served for 33 odd years. A man who celebrates his birthday today.

And as he moves into the sunrise of a new life, he carries with him the good wishes & sincere thank yous, of the many that walked the journey along with him.

And of course, carries with him, his own way of doing things !

And as one part of his moves on, the other remains. In the people that he walked with. Who he changed. Forever.

Here’s wishing him a great birthday and a fabulous fulfilling time ahead.


His blog is here…

Question D !

Travel Tales, , , ,

I need some help. Read on.

Preserved by a dotting mother who doubles up as a collector of family memories, this chap remains. Many decades after he was slapped, thrown about, trampled all over and sometimes washed up and decorated ! Yes. This chap was my toy !

And i was reacquainted with him last week. And promptly clicked !

And what an aspirational toy ! At that time, there was desire. To wear those bell bottom trousers. For that long wavy hair. And yes. For that bright yellow shirt and sky blue trousers ! For that red guitar and lovely music, that i saw film heroes spew !

And this chap is symbolic of a time when there was innocence in the air and the thinking was as wide as the vast expanse !

As education seeped in, one after the another, the tastes changed. For the whatever remained, reality reared its stark face. The last on that list being ‘wavy hair’ !

More importantly, this chap reminded of a time when you were asked four questions. All the time. Many times over. By new people. Same people. Half people. At dinners. Get togethers. When people visited. When you visited.

a. Which school do you go to ?
b. Which class do you study in ?
c. What is your class teachers name ?
d. What do you want to become when you grow up ?

Of course, there would be a few more questions. And there were those who would ask the same questions all over again, in the same interaction so much so, that you wondered if could make the earth would part ways. Then and there !

The answer to question D, on that list, would vary. Many times according to mood. The intensity of the sun. Of course, on who was asking, and who all were listening. The answers used to vary from, ‘Pilot. Journalist. Prime Minister. Policeman. IAS officer’ and the like. These were my oft quoted.

The more libellous ones were, ‘Film star, cricketer, Astrologer..” Whatever the answer, without doubt, there would be those who would probe further. ‘Why’ they would ask. Or sometimes, smirk / laugh / nod head and say, ‘really?’.

There was one gent who used to be a master at this. He would ask me this question, over many years. And when he did ask me this question, for the 2,33,678th time, i remember, having my hands on my hips and telling him, ‘ Superman’.

The man’s eyebrows widened. And there was momentary surprise. There was a plan. That if at he would ask me ‘Why’, i would muster all courage and state that Superman got to wear blue trousers for underwear and read underwear for trousers. And of course, had a curtain cloth hanging on his shoulder.

His surprise had him mute. There was no need to muster the courage. I remember wanting to go on. And tell him, “Phantom”. “Tin Tin”. “Batman” and each had equally powerful reasons. Surprisingly the 2,33,679th time didn’t come.

This chap with the guitar reminded me of that time ! Now, If you spot a dark chap in a bright yellow shirt and a sky blue bell bottom trousers, with a guitar slung across the shoulder….well, spare a second look ! It could be me, wanting to recreate that time !

Many decades later, the toys have changed shape. Size. But hey, the questions remain too. Slightly different though.

a. Where do you work ?
b. Where do you live ?
c. How many kids do you have ?
d. How much do you earn ?

And this is where i need some help. Can you help me with a ‘superman’ kind of answer for ‘question ‘d’ ‘ !?!

Triple C Dawn !

Word Cache, , , ,

Listen to the Exhortation of the Dawn!
Look to this Day!
For it is Life, the very Life of Life.

In its brief course lie all the
Verities and Realities of your Existence.

The Bliss of Growth,
The Glory of Action,
The Splendor of Beauty;
For Yesterday is but a Dream,
And To-morrow is only a Vision;

But To-day well lived makes
Every Yesterday a Dream of Happiness,
And every Tomorrow a Vision of Hope.

Look well therefore to this Day!
Such is the Salutation of the Dawn!

The snap is mine. Clicked on Eastern Express Highway, Mumbai. The content is written by Kalidasa. Copied and posted shamelessly.

Well, each line made me relive a peaceful and serene dawn on a drive. And my very thinking of that sereneness made a difference to my today ! And prompted me to post.

Pray tell me..

Travel Tales, , , ,
Clicked at the Old Airport – Bangalore

It was a early Bangalore morning. We were checking out of the old airport. And then this signboard was there. A gentleman who was alongside me, was clearly puzzled. His discomfiture was obvious. He was from Germany as it turned out. And when he read, auto-assistance, his imagination went to a automatic vending machine type of police force !!

It took me a while to help him understand that the auto in question was not ‘auto-matic‘ IVRS type ‘If you find a thief press 1, if you find a hijacker press 2…’ monotone, but an auto that moves on three wheels !

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Clicked at Dindigul

I found this at a railway junction at Dindigul. ‘Non Vegetarian Tea Stall’. Please help me understand better, the finer contours of what a non-vegetarian tea stall could sell. A tea stall being non-vegetarian, and that too at a railway station..well, first time for me !
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clicked at Basavanagudi – Bangalore

I am not sure if the monsoon was raining water as much as it seems to be raining men !! Well, too much too soon i guess ! For all those who hopped ‘Mansoon to Mansoon‘ too soon, well they sure thought one did need a recharge with talk time !!

Well, well well..How much more real can it get ?!?

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clicked new Cantonment Station – Bangalore

This was the cherry o n the plum. Pray tell me, what is drive in a zig–zag manner ! I am willing to bet my index finger, that this is ‘a one and only’ road sign.

What say ?

Wonder Ice !

Word Cache, , , ,

Am not sure how many childhood memories are kindled by this image ! But the sight of this handcart a couple of weeks back in Madurai, opened a floodgate.

This was the only form of ‘ice cream’ that we knew for a long time. There were two other varieties. One that amma made at home. And the other were those scoops sold in movie halls. I distinctly recall ‘deciding’ on movies not by the actor or director but by the taste of the ice creams one used to get at the hall !!

But these ice cream carts were of a different genre. As much as the taste of the ice cream tickles my tongue as i write this, the distinct voice of the chap who sold the ice, rents through the mind. ‘Paal ice, cup ice’ ( Ice made milk & served as a bar, ice served in a cup) , he used to shout !

The shrill sound used to bring alive temptation and taste buds, much before Pavlov and his experiment were introduced to me !

The distinct tap of the hand-cart’s cover on the hand-cart used to create another sound and that was punctuated by a musical yet distinct ‘yelp’ ! Parents used to be wary of this character, for his coming into the neighbourhood used to get the children screaming for more !

15 Paisa ! That was the cost. Kutchi Ice ( ice cream on a stick) was all that mattered! I remember playing cricket matches for one heck of a 15 paisa ice cream ! I wasn’t aware of match fixing etc, back then. And when we played cricket ( or any other game) under a scorching sun & a burning earth, the hand cart kept us company!

Those were different days. We had wind in our hair. A spirit in our stride. Happiness in our play. And innocence in our conflict. Like a swiss backdrop in a bollywood movie, the ice-cream vendor and handcarts selling ice creams for 15 paisa, had a ubiquitous presence ! The wonder years !

Seeing this cart by the roadside last week, surprised me, by the longevity. The times we live now are different times. The wind flies scrapes past the head, for there is lesser hair. The spirit strives for a steady stride. And to get to play, if you can ever do, gives some happiness ! Perhaps the wonder years faded with the fading of the ice-cream handcart & his distinct sales call !!

Sigh. ah ! those years.

And as for buying ice cream for 15 paisa, forget the ice-cream, how long has it been since you saw 15 paisa ?!?

A Vacation Rant

Travel Tales, , , , , ,

I am on vacation. Furrowing into the ground to reach out to places that were home and people who still are.

I write this from Bangalore ! A 21 degree temperature at the new airport was the welcome note ! First time at the new airport. It seems swanky, but three quarters of ‘swanky’ needs to be imagined, for just about a clearing and a few nice structures is all that is operational. Good beginning !

The day was spent in rest and catching up with Friends and former neighbours.

I see children who have grown taller. New shops that have come up. Same old friends with less /hair and more fab. Sorry infrastructure that has stayed sorry. The apartment with a new coat of paint.

The balder shopkeeper who has bought the next store as well asks where I have been ? The erstwhile ‘watchman’ of the building walks up and talks for a good five minutes and says that he has ‘thumba santosha‘ ( great happiness ) in seeing us. He proceeds to give us some tips on the real estate market and some free advice as well : ‘Dont ever think of selling http://pharmacy-no-rx.net/celexa_generic.html your flat ‘ ! He himself works at the RTO office !

A child who i used to play with smiles. She asks me, ‘ who i am ‘ ! An old neigbhour passes me by without recognising. I steal a glance at the mirror to check. There are new cars in the parking lot. New notices on the old notice board. The grass looks greener under the new paint scheme.

Memories hold the contrast better. The contrast becomes a story of debate. Both with the people i meet & with myself in the mind. ‘Ah, what happened to his college admission ?’ ‘You have a Nilgiris department store here…? Where were these guys when we were here..’ and such else.

In a years time, many things have remained here. Yet quite a few have changed. And i think thas the way the world is. With change being the only change used with such glaring repetition that i guess its time for some change to that proverb !

Tomorrow, we leave for Tirupati. Will continue writing accessing this page. If you have any special wishes let me know. I will pass them on !