Found: There's No Place Like Rome.
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I have a holiday in Rome coming up, so I'm sharing all the places I can't
wait to see, shop, and, of course, eat. My annotated map included!
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The bus jerks and my eyes open in a flash. Before me lay a wide expanse of unspoilt natural beauty. Now, 'unspoilt natural beauty' is the to go description of any and every natural landscape bereft of a mobile phone tower, but the scene that lies before me, stationary while I'm moving with the bus, is that rare sight of gorgeousness that never fails to take your breath away. And in the region that I'm passing through while I travel to my sleepy small town hometown, such rare sights're not that rare after all.
If you've to travel by road from the state capital of Assam, Guwahati, in its norther part to the southern part of the same state, where my hometown figures, you've to pass several hours in transist in a whole different state altogether; Meghalaya. And though Assam and Meghalaya're neighbours, Assam being the only fellow Indian state touching its borders, the topography couldn't be more different. There's a marked departure from the plain and then semi-plain areas of Assam to the more hilly and colder areas of Meghalaya and then again you feel the surrounding landscape change as you again leave Meghalaya behind and enter southern Assam.
By now, I'm already half asleep again, the pills I took for my travel sickness (clarification: yours truely *had* road travel sickness as a child and continues the medication only as a habit, okay, only as a precaution :|) before the journey has strong effects, aided along by the soothing music that is the whole 'The Suburbs' album by Arcade Fire and the rolling 'unspoilt natural beauty' outside my plastic window.
Umiam Lake, photo taken from here
The Guwahati-Shillong route is one of the most beautiful routes ever. The sheer pureness and rawness of the countryside on view is a good introduction to Northeastern wilderness on offer in the rest of the region. The good roads help too.
The bus takes a particularly Physical-Laws-breaking turn and my wakefullness returns again. And this time, it is the famed Umiam Lake, also known as the Barapani Lake, outside. Now, everyone who knows will tell you how the lake is the perfect welcome to Shillong and how it is truely a sight to behold, but you don't really get it till you experience it for yourself. Imagine a wide expanse of silvery, or emerald depending upon the time you visit it, water surrounded by forests of pine and fir on all sides, revealing itself as the mist of clouds unveils its layers. And as you continue staring at the scene, you suddenly notice that you're crossing the dam and there's a 1000 meters (probably) deep gauge a few inches from the wheels of the bus and all your mind registers is the untamedness of everything.
The pleasantness of the drive continues as you cross that charmer of a town; Shillong, as you travel through the state, the hill ranges named after the different tribes, its million waterfalls, churches, graveyards, quaint little village-towns. The wise one'd stop his descriptions now and put a flowery end here. But since we've screwed wisdom long back with a burning sickle, we'd rather go on.
Somewhere between Shillong and Silchar
The bus takes a particularly Physical-Laws-breaking turn and my wakefullness returns again. And this time, it is the famed Umiam Lake, also known as the Barapani Lake, outside. Now, everyone who knows will tell you how the lake is the perfect welcome to Shillong and how it is truely a sight to behold, but you don't really get it till you experience it for yourself. Imagine a wide expanse of silvery, or emerald depending upon the time you visit it, water surrounded by forests of pine and fir on all sides, revealing itself as the mist of clouds unveils its layers. And as you continue staring at the scene, you suddenly notice that you're crossing the dam and there's a 1000 meters (probably) deep gauge a few inches from the wheels of the bus and all your mind registers is the untamedness of everything.
The pleasantness of the drive continues as you cross that charmer of a town; Shillong, as you travel through the state, the hill ranges named after the different tribes, its million waterfalls, churches, graveyards, quaint little village-towns. The wise one'd stop his descriptions now and put a flowery end here. But since we've screwed wisdom long back with a burning sickle, we'd rather go on.
Now I'm passing through a jungle and the leaves on the trees shading the road're hanging down with the weight of the dust. And you ask how so? Well, whether it was some decades or some months back that the forementioned road was last a hard solid road , it can't really be said. There're holes bigger than the whole of the bus throughout the road and at times, the road positively disappears. This state of the road starts appearing sometime after you cross the Jaintia Hills(hence, the last touristy tourist spot in the state) and continues deep into Assam. The road may become a road again at times, but halt your optimism, comrade, that is the rainforest version of a mirage.
If you reach your destination at a humane hour after facing the numerous jams (yes, on a highway) and the non-existent road, then congratulations and celebrations! You're a survivor! When the world ends and the brave ascent to Valhalla, there'd a whole contingent of people who had travelled Shillong to Silchar (yes, that's the hometown) atleast once in their lifetimes. And so, the moral of the story in 2 words for the naive, if ever the wind brings you this way: AIR TRAVEL.
1
I was never one for 'inspirational quotes' and stuff, but this one really rang some mental bells inside my head.
And the following people, I guess everyone knows about.
PS: Notice the Black & Whiteness of everything.
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I wrote this one for the magazine.
***
Beware men. The next time you step forward to protect your women friends from getting sexually molested, be ready to be stabbed repeatedly, all under full public eye. And women, you were never safe to begin with. Just that the few good men ready to lose a few teeth and bones to save you may well lose their lives next time. That’s what happened with Keenan Santos and Reuben Fernandez and which could happen to others too. While the gathered crowd stared in sick pleasure, they were stabbed with choppers after being beaten with sticks by 20 men, all for trying to protect their friends from getting ‘eve-teased’.
Eve-teased. Such a charming word carrying with it images of bold dandy roadside Romeos loudly complimenting every girl passing them. No? No. What happens is that a creepy guy in the bus pinches you and all that you can do is glare at him with teary eyes and not complain. Why’d you complain too? You were just ‘eve-teased’. Chalta hain. And even if someone came to your defense, the irony’d be that it’d be your protector who’d get lynched. And justly so. Eves’re supposed to be pinched by every Adam in the world. No one should and can change that. And that’s what Reuben and Keenan learnt that night. The crowd watching them already knew that lesson. Why else’d they not come forward to help the young men while their friends kept on screaming for help. You can blame the ‘Bystander Effect’ for that. But we all know the truth.
The fact that it happened in ‘The Most Safest Indian City For Women’, Bombay (excuze moi, M. Thackeray) must be a pointer to the state of the world we live in. And no Delhiwalo, you may not rejoice that at last, some dirt got on the Mumbaikars too. We all know how safe you all’re from each other. If it happened in some remote outskirts of the big city, then it could’ve been blamed on the remoteness of the place, the very immorality and imprudence of boys and girls roaming around in secluded places. Then the whole of the city in particular and the nation in general could’ve gasped in collective self righteous horror.
Only this time those immoral, Americanised youngsters were out for a simple dinner at the restaurant they’ve always frequented, in a place very public. At the end of the night, two of those youngsters ended up dead, three sexually molested (oh be done with ‘Eve-teasing’ for Eve’s sake) and two others injured.
We live in a world with no heroes. No one to guard our backs. The sky isn’t going to throw up a caped vigilante to save us anytime soon. When you don’t care whether the other guy’s girlfriend gets molested or the guy gets killed, then you can scream all that you want the time you get screwed, no one is going to give you a second look. What happened to the friends that night shows our cities and their people at their worst. And the possibility of the worst becoming the norm is positively scaring.
***
Beware men. The next time you step forward to protect your women friends from getting sexually molested, be ready to be stabbed repeatedly, all under full public eye. And women, you were never safe to begin with. Just that the few good men ready to lose a few teeth and bones to save you may well lose their lives next time. That’s what happened with Keenan Santos and Reuben Fernandez and which could happen to others too. While the gathered crowd stared in sick pleasure, they were stabbed with choppers after being beaten with sticks by 20 men, all for trying to protect their friends from getting ‘eve-teased’.
Eve-teased. Such a charming word carrying with it images of bold dandy roadside Romeos loudly complimenting every girl passing them. No? No. What happens is that a creepy guy in the bus pinches you and all that you can do is glare at him with teary eyes and not complain. Why’d you complain too? You were just ‘eve-teased’. Chalta hain. And even if someone came to your defense, the irony’d be that it’d be your protector who’d get lynched. And justly so. Eves’re supposed to be pinched by every Adam in the world. No one should and can change that. And that’s what Reuben and Keenan learnt that night. The crowd watching them already knew that lesson. Why else’d they not come forward to help the young men while their friends kept on screaming for help. You can blame the ‘Bystander Effect’ for that. But we all know the truth.
The fact that it happened in ‘The Most Safest Indian City For Women’, Bombay (excuze moi, M. Thackeray) must be a pointer to the state of the world we live in. And no Delhiwalo, you may not rejoice that at last, some dirt got on the Mumbaikars too. We all know how safe you all’re from each other. If it happened in some remote outskirts of the big city, then it could’ve been blamed on the remoteness of the place, the very immorality and imprudence of boys and girls roaming around in secluded places. Then the whole of the city in particular and the nation in general could’ve gasped in collective self righteous horror.
Only this time those immoral, Americanised youngsters were out for a simple dinner at the restaurant they’ve always frequented, in a place very public. At the end of the night, two of those youngsters ended up dead, three sexually molested (oh be done with ‘Eve-teasing’ for Eve’s sake) and two others injured.
We live in a world with no heroes. No one to guard our backs. The sky isn’t going to throw up a caped vigilante to save us anytime soon. When you don’t care whether the other guy’s girlfriend gets molested or the guy gets killed, then you can scream all that you want the time you get screwed, no one is going to give you a second look. What happened to the friends that night shows our cities and their people at their worst. And the possibility of the worst becoming the norm is positively scaring.
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Yes, as the title says, the magazine's launched! And I'm a bit late in announcing this here. But whatever. Compiling that one issue broke my back into a million pieces. But at the end of the day, it was more than worth the pain. :)
Take a look. Or look here if you're unable to open the flash based site.
Take a look. Or look here if you're unable to open the flash based site.
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Yes, I, along with another friend, am starting an online magazine!
Here's the bandwidth heavy version and the low-bandwidth version.
And if you were wondering, the name's 'Renaissance 21'.
Do send in your contributions by 20th October for the inaugurative November issue to mailtoeditors@gmail.com! Visit the links for more details.
Yes, I, along with another friend, am starting an online magazine!
Here's the bandwidth heavy version and the low-bandwidth version.
And if you were wondering, the name's 'Renaissance 21'.
Do send in your contributions by 20th October for the inaugurative November issue to mailtoeditors@gmail.com! Visit the links for more details.
8
Its long since anything's been posted here. A good many things happened in between too. For starters, I finally moved out of my nest. To a bigger city, free of the confines synonymous with small town life. To the state capital. And as evil omens go(READ: rains, rains and more rains. Oh, also an influenza epidemic at cousin's house where we lodged up), life almost began on the wrong foot in the Capital. A PG cum dungeon reminding one of Charles Dickens was in store, along with ace characters as fellow cellmates. A nosey cookwoman and the 9 year old irritating mass of bones whom she acknowledged as her son, who also is the youngest pervert known to my existence. A calculating, cunning, evil giant pretending to be human acted as our warden who was never there in the PG anyway. A ghost fearing recent convert to Brahminism who doesn't believe in Evolution and Darwin, chats with Khuda through meditation and studies law at the University. Huh. The 'Rendezvous With Weirdness' stories'll need a separate volume of their own. The saving graces were the friends one got to make there. F, A, M, T, R, B, V. Those're the faces I'd miss.
The Dungeon
The empty left side was my part of the cell
Good news is that the jail was violated mercilessly and yours truely managed to escape, along with two other friends, after much dramebaazi and ado. Now we haunt at a flat with a clean bathroom and ample space and privacy. And good food. And the reason as to why this post seems rushed, well it is rushed. No 24x7 net connectivity like before.
The new flat
View from the terrace
View from the terrace
Life in the big city is good. No Big City Blues for this staunch supporter of (moderate) materialism. The kishmish on the payesh're the fabulous bookshops, which the mothertown miserably failed to provide. And what I loved even more was my eureka moment of discovery of the secondhand bookshops. Secondhand bookshops exist in reality! And not only that, but a whole locality filled with such shops!
*insert smalltowner gawping emoticon*
Okay, I forgot to photograph all the good books in the excitement
The staircase we've to climb to get to our coaching centre
when the lift refuses to work, which is often
My life completed its first 19th years sometime back too. The first birthday away from the parents. Also the night after was the first time the offerings of the barley and the vineyard were partaken with kinsmen (and a woman), with Nirvana as the background score of choice. Even later at the night, I also discovered that my prejudice against smoking didn't hold true under the effect of sufficient daru.
Am I happy? I don't know for sure. What I know? I miss my parents. My bed. My cancerous computer. The friends, rivals and soulmates. All those people I liked having around. Nahaz and its overpriced fried junk goodness. Jhalupara and its irreplacable momos. The legendary addas. I'm not homesick and dying, but the yearn is still strong. Like they say, all good things come to an end. Must come to an end.
And the choco-crusher at KFC
The Dungeon
The empty left side was my part of the cell
Good news is that the jail was violated mercilessly and yours truely managed to escape, along with two other friends, after much dramebaazi and ado. Now we haunt at a flat with a clean bathroom and ample space and privacy. And good food. And the reason as to why this post seems rushed, well it is rushed. No 24x7 net connectivity like before.
The new flat
View from the terrace
View from the terrace
Life in the big city is good. No Big City Blues for this staunch supporter of (moderate) materialism. The kishmish on the payesh're the fabulous bookshops, which the mothertown miserably failed to provide. And what I loved even more was my eureka moment of discovery of the secondhand bookshops. Secondhand bookshops exist in reality! And not only that, but a whole locality filled with such shops!
*insert smalltowner gawping emoticon*
Okay, I forgot to photograph all the good books in the excitement
The staircase we've to climb to get to our coaching centre
when the lift refuses to work, which is often
My life completed its first 19th years sometime back too. The first birthday away from the parents. Also the night after was the first time the offerings of the barley and the vineyard were partaken with kinsmen (and a woman), with Nirvana as the background score of choice. Even later at the night, I also discovered that my prejudice against smoking didn't hold true under the effect of sufficient daru.
Am I happy? I don't know for sure. What I know? I miss my parents. My bed. My cancerous computer. The friends, rivals and soulmates. All those people I liked having around. Nahaz and its overpriced fried junk goodness. Jhalupara and its irreplacable momos. The legendary addas. I'm not homesick and dying, but the yearn is still strong. Like they say, all good things come to an end. Must come to an end.
But some good things remain the same, like my rockstar nephew
And the choco-crusher at KFC
2
Summer has come, with all its neck-burning glory. A step outside means being charred to death and inside, the slow moving fan makes a whirlpool out of the hot, dense air. Bonjour, l'été! But the hot sun also brings down sudden outpour of rain, which I don’t care for in normal circumstances, but now it gives a few hours of bliss. Also, Summer means most of my favourite fruits're in season too! Also, its weird but I see prettier and more numbers of flowers blossoming in Summer vis a vis Spring. Wasn't Spring supposed to be the season for flowers and all that jazz?
There're these two trees in front of my apartment building and they currently fall under my most beloved trees' list. The building has just 6 flats and is a relatively intimate affair. Also just opposite to it is the colonial-era Circuit House building. Once upon a time, the world's first Polo Club was established in a place 1 minute walking distance away from me, down the road, and the world's first competitive Polo match was played in this huge Polo ground. Then Independence
I get off topic so much but what I wanted to say is that the Sahibs and their Memsahibs used to live in that lovely house (I’ve a thing for all things old), and from what I can make out now, they used to be the only firangi people living in this area and their nearest neighbours were some 100 meters away from them. Sadly, their neighbour's mansion was torn down a couple of years ago and now an imposing housing building stands in its place. But the one I'm babbling about still remains, having been conferred the 'Circuit House' title, which I guess means something. So, coming back to the topic, the whole road is lined with these big, old trees which're quite distinct from any in other parts of the town. These may well be the oldest surviving cluster of planted trees in this place. When it’s Summer, a few of these trees're ladened with flowers red and yellow, and when its winter, a few become full with flowers of the silk cotton tree.
Simul
Amaltas
The bigger of the two trees in front of my building is Bombax, a cotton tree, locally known as Simul. This really exquisite red flower blooms on it which falls down like fruits when it gets too heavy and a few weeks later, everywhere you can see little handfuls of cotton flying whenever the wind blows. The other, skinnier tree, Amaltas, which almost has no identity of its own in other seasons, blasts with yellow in Summer. Beautiful yellow flowers fill its branches and when they fly about in the wind, haye Allah, its gorgeous! And one can see the flowers up close from the terrace. But it sure means extra hard work for the sweeper to clear the flowers off the driveway every morning!
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Before Sunrise
Okay, this movie, like its sequel, is supposed to be very little known. But every person, whose taste in films I care about always knew about it! After so many recommendations, I finally sat down to watch it. And it wasn’t a let down. American Jesse and French Celine meet in a train going to Paris Vienna Vienna Vienna
Alright, alright. Think of it like this: jump ahead, ten, twenty years, okay, and you're married. Only your marriage doesn't have that same energy that it used to have, y'know. You start to blame your husband. You start to think about all those guys you've met in your life and what might have happened if you'd picked up with one of them, right? Well, I'm one of those guys. That's me y'know, so think of this as time travel, from then, to now, to find out what you're missing out on. See, what this really could be is a gigantic favor to both you and your future husband to find out that you're not missing out on anything. I'm just as big a loser as he is, totally unmotivated, totally boring, and, uh, you made the right choice, and you're really happy.
The Frenchie went Touche.
They walked around the city, went to places Celine had visited as a child and to places new to both. They talked, they’ve their first kiss and they do a lot more. They mutually decide to not take eachother’s numbers or addresses. People send a few letters and call a few times and promise to forever keep in touch and then gradually forget eachother. They didn’t want that, they agree, even though they feel otherwise inside. The movie ends with Celine leaving in a train to Paris
Unstoppable (2010)
This movie’s neither exceptionally good nor bad. It is entertaining, entertaining as in in-your-face-adrenaline-rush kind of entertaining. It’s supposedly based on a real life incident and is not one of your mindless action flicks. Also, the train-not-stopping-and-the-heroes-trying-to-stop-it thing has been done too many times before. Apna The Burning Train hain na! But it’s definitely watchable, but you can live without having seen it too. Its that kind of a film. What I loved is the cinematography. A metallic train rushing through lush green Pennsylvania countryside. Amazing. Also, the Prince from the second Princess Diary film(yes, I’ve seen it and no, I’m not embarrassed :P), Chris Pine, is here too, along side Denzel Washington. That’s like only the third movie of his that I’ve seen.
Before Sunset (2004)
It’s the sequel to Before Sunrise. And I liked this one more. The conversation was more real, the setting being Paris Europe promotional tour for his book. And then they start their talkathon again, which is very, very real and so very harmlessly sarcastic. And that’s the main thing. The last time their conversation, especially on Jesse’s part, was too idealistic. But they kind of explain themselves here with the admission that they were “young and foolish”. If for no other reasons, I’d suggest Before Sunrise only to fully understand this one. Again, the ending is very open, as the film ends abruptly as Celine imitates Simone telling him that “Oh baby, you’re gonna miss your flight.”
Also, she sings a waltz for him and Julie Delpy, the actress, sings pretty decently!
She was the better of the two too!
Let me sing you a waltz
Out of nowhere, out of my thoughts
Let me sing you a waltz
About this one night stand
You were for me that night
Everything I always dreamt of in life
But now you're gone
You are far gone
All the way to your island of rain
It was for you just a one night thing
But you were much more to me
Just so you know
I hear rumors about you
About all the bad things you do
But when we were together alone
You didn't seem like a player at all
I don't care what they say
I know what you meant for me that day
I just wanted another try
I just wanted another night
Even if it doesn't seem quite right
You meant for me much more
Than anyone I've met before
One single night with you little Jesse
Is worth a thousand with anybody
I have no bitterness, my sweet
I'll never forget this one night thing
Even tomorrow, in another arms
My heart will stay yours until I die
Let me sing you a waltz
Out of nowhere, out of my blues
Let me sing you a waltz
About this lovely one night stand.
Out of nowhere, out of my thoughts
Let me sing you a waltz
About this one night stand
You were for me that night
Everything I always dreamt of in life
But now you're gone
You are far gone
All the way to your island of rain
It was for you just a one night thing
But you were much more to me
Just so you know
I hear rumors about you
About all the bad things you do
But when we were together alone
You didn't seem like a player at all
I don't care what they say
I know what you meant for me that day
I just wanted another try
I just wanted another night
Even if it doesn't seem quite right
You meant for me much more
Than anyone I've met before
One single night with you little Jesse
Is worth a thousand with anybody
I have no bitterness, my sweet
I'll never forget this one night thing
Even tomorrow, in another arms
My heart will stay yours until I die
Let me sing you a waltz
Out of nowhere, out of my blues
Let me sing you a waltz
About this lovely one night stand.
