My first travelogue - Jaipur !!

Jaipur was not as hot as we expected. In the month of May it’s everywhere simmering hot in India. But we didnt feel the heat in Jaipur. We felt the warmth of our host though. A wedding party turned a tour-de-Jaipur was throughly enjoyed. We captured a close glimpse of what a typical Marwari family is like. Sometimes it was really funny. To begin with, we had our co-passengers in the train who were going to attend a different wedding in a distant village near Jaipur. After every half an hour someone came and exchanged greetings. Later, I discovered that most of the people in the train were going to attend the same wedding. I also came to know that they would be attending multiple weddings in the same trip. This was the height of socialism I had ever come across - an epitome of the phrase Vasudev Kutumbakam - The world is one family !!

We were shiverring inside the AC compartment when we alighted at Jaipur station in the afternoon. Without doing much bargain with the rickshaw driver we got a fair deal and in close to fifteen minutes we were at our friend's place.

By the way, when I say WE, it means me and my flat mate in Pune, Harshal. We reached our friend's house and got painted by our host's hospitality. We were greeted with an electrifying smile on everyone's face. After a quick shower we proceeded for lunch. Though there wasn't any authentic Rajasthani food yet it tasted amazing. The feel of having a group lunch during wedding is really great.

After the pet-puja we got dressed and thought to beat-the-heat by crusing on the streets of Jaipur. We reached bada bazar. Then we understood why Jaipur is called Pink City. 9 out of 10 buildings were predominently coloured in pink. The pink shops had a range of small kirana shop to expensive tanishq show rooms. The roads were patrolled by hand pulled rickshaws and colourful auto-rickshaws. Just for fun we boarded a hand-pulled rickshaw and saw the City Palace of Sawai Mansingh Maharaj II and the queen's factory where they make quilts and sarees. The quilts weighed around 100gms and Sarees weighed around 25 Gms. We didnt shop much except roamed around. We couldnt enter the City Palace turned museum as they were closed for the day for public viewing. We had a magnificient darshan of Govind Dev Jee and of Vishnu at Birla Mandir.

Pani puri in every city tastes different. We tried one near the Birla Mandir but didn't find anything outstanding about it.

The next day was a bigger plan; to see the forts around Jaipur. We were scared about the heat but then where there is a will there is a way. The way was more pleasent because the day wasn't sunny at all and we were greeted by clouds hovering around.

We tried to bargain for a cab and none of the drivers were ready to workout for anything below 1000 bucks. We finally settled for an autorickshaw who got ready for mere 350 bucks. And then the cruise began. We straight way went to the Fort of Jaygarh. Fort of Jaygarh is located on the top of the hill, by the name of Cheel ka Teela (Hill of Eagles). As the name suggests it is the 'Victory Fort'.I havent seen many forts but it wont be an exaggeration to say that this fort os one of the spectacular forts in India. It was made to tighten the security of Jaipur and Amber. Jaigarh Fort used to serve as the center of artillery production for the Rajputs. It has the world's largest canon called Jaivan and one can see the remains of a canon factory in the backyards of the fort. One of the liveliest things we witnessed at the Fort of Jaigarh was a puppet show. It reminded me of the nomads who visited across India and played puppet shows on the streets. I had seen many such street shows in my childhood. The brightly coloured dresses of puppets were similar to what the nomads wore and it gave an epitome of the dressing sense of the marwaris. We were tired and thirsty and so tried the water which they said is pulled from a tank situated beneath the fort where the kings used to hide their treasure. The guide told that this treasure was revoked during the emergency by Late Indira Gandhi. No one knows the whereabout of the treasure now.

We then headed to the fort of Nahargarh. It was built by Maharaja Jai Sawai Singh of Jaipur. It gave a beautiful view of the Arravali range which blankets this fort. The term "Nahargarh" refers to "the Abode of Tigers", so it is also known as the Tiger Fort. The guide told that once upon the time the area was haunted and the fort was built in the name of the prince to evade the evil spirit. I have heard that Rajasthan is rich in such ghostly stories. Another major attraction was Rang de Basanti's shot of "Masti Ki Pathshala" location. We clicked several pictures at this spot. A group of college guys told me that this place is best enjoyed in night when you get a bird's eye view of the city with sparkling light all around and drive way back to the city being high on beer. The palace inside the fort is magnificent. The colour of walls and paintings still loks very bright and attractive.

We then moved to the Fort of Amber. This was the final major attraction especially after the fame of Jodha Akbar's shooting and the controversy of Slaman Khan's Veer. History books of primary school got revisited when I saw the Deewan-e-Khaas and Deewan-e-Aam. Amber Fort is located in Amber, a small kasba near Jaipur. Eventually when Akbar took over this fort he made Jaipur as the caiptal city. Though it is written as AMBER but its spellt with the B silent as AMER. We could bargain a guide for just forty rs. The guide quoted Rs. 500 for his service and we were able to manage and bargain to rock bottom level. He agreed to give us a tour of the fort for just Rs. 40. The fort is well decorated by exquisite paintings of hunting scenes on the walls depicting the temperament of the Rajputs, who were adventurous, revolutionary and self-indulgent.

The temple has a Kali Temple where they still offer a sheep once every day. There is also a temple of Krishna with Meera. We learned that this is the only temple in India where Krishna sits with Meera. In every temple the better half of the diety is placed at the same level but since Meera was not his better half and was more of a devotee hence she is placed a step lower than the Lord. The white skinned tourists were ferrying a royal elephant ride but we desis found it to be an extravangza. The guide then took us to a small shop. He adviced us to buy anything we want from here itself rather than the big shops around the city. He said that the sellers are students and hence they are honest about quality as well as need money for their help. I bought two kurtas hoping it was a genuine cause. The second day when I wore the kurta it got torn off easily. It looked brightly coloured but was really low on quality. I got turned off becuase of being felt cheated and that too in the name of "a noble cause".

While returnig our way home we halted at Jal Mahal or the palace in the middle of Manasgar lake. We figured out that this palace has less of historical significance and has more tourist attributes. The government of India has offlate fueled in around 100 crores to glorify this place. But the efforts fo the government to add beauty to Jaipur by this lake and the palace was really well thought. One is not allowed to go inside the palace although. Tourists were having camel ride along the banks of the lake.

I lit my first ciggrette of the day as I was really tired and couldn't stop myself. After the day long tour I asked the driver's name. His name was Mohammed. We discussed about Jaipur as a modern city. His face spoke of contentment as a citizen of Jaipur. The wide and smooth roads, clean vicinity and well spoken warm people make Jaipur a real good place to visit for a vacation.

Smoking dots

I boarded the 9:55 fast local from Panvel to CST. I was the only one in the coach. I stood at the gate and let the fast moving train invite a gush of fresh breeze to play with my hair. Friends say my hair has been falling continuously. I take it wittingly and compare myself with the other well-known people who have less hair. Say for example Salman Khan.

The train halted at Vashi. A lady in veil entered the coach. She took a window seat. The train started to move. She was stamping her feet gently in a rhythmic way. Probably she was listening to her ipod plugged into her ears. I was getting curious to know which song she was listening to. She had beautiful digits. Very fair. So should be her face. She must be beautiful. I was getting more and more tempted to have a glimpse of her. It happens so very often that when something is covered it tends to invite all our imagination - wild imagination at times.

I got down at the next station. The stations of New Bombay are so elegant and clean. They don’t bustle like Dadar station. You don’t get a chance to rub your body against someone else. You don’t smell the stink of the passerby’s sweat

I stood at a road side shop and lit a cigarette and it started to rain. I wanted to enjoy the rain as well as the “smoked smoke” of sutta. I held it with my thumb and index finger as if I was holding a pen allowing the three other fingers of my hand to cover it in an articulate manner. And when I brought it close to my lips I covered it with my other hand. Water droplets started falling from my earlobes. My foot rubbed with the slippers wet floor making a shrill sound. My mother always got annoyed when I use to make this sound knowingly after washing my feet and walked by mischievously past her.

I sat at a bus stop waiting for my bus to come. There were not many people at the bus stop. I let the cigarette go off. It was wet and almost over. There came a beggar asking me for one rupee coin. Beggars now-a-days don’t ask anything less than a rupee. Apparently you can’t even buy a vada-pao for a rupee. Not even a cup of tea. Prices have risen always for most of the things. Except for parle kismee toffee. It use to cost 25 paisa when I was in school. It still costs the same. I still love to eat kismee. I had only one in my pocket. I was getting a strong desire to eat it. I didn't want to take it out in front of her. She was old. She wouldn't have eaten that even if I would have offered her and on the other hand I was feeling sorry for her so didn't want to lure her for whatever. I chose to eat the toffee later and chose to ignore her as well. It had stopped raining. The weather had changed soon but the clouds were still hovering around as if it would rain soon. Humidity was making me feel uncomfortable. There was no sweat but I could feel a strong itch around my neck. She scratched her hand with her nails. Her nails scooped out black body stains. She didn’t bother to clean her nails. She was about to say me something when I got a call on my mobile. It was a wrong number.

She asked again for a rupee. This time she stated a reason. She said she was hungry and wanted to eat something. I mocked at her reason and told her "what will you get in one rupee". She said she would collect more and then buy her self a meal. I wanted to buy her a meal but didn't see any food joint near by. At the same time I wasn't willing to give her a tenner. My cunning mind was arguing with me that she wont spend it for her meal instead she might buy herself a joint or may be a packet of beedi. I asked her to move ahead.

She looked at me disheartened. I cursed the bus for not coming in time. I went to the cigarette shop to light another one. I came back and stood near the bus stop. She approached me again. She asked me if I would buy her a beedi. I asked "Why do you smoke? How will you get cured if you fall sick"? She smiled and asked me the same. I said, "Perhaps I can afford a treatment".

"If that were the case rich people would have never died of an ailment", said she. I was getting irritated. Why is she trying to act smart? I fished for a coin in my wallet. I could only find a five rupee coin. I thought this would at least buy peace. She gladly accepted it. She sat near the bus stop. She tied it carefully to one end of her soiled sari making a strong knot.

"How many do you smoke in a day?"

"Depends, sometimes 6 and if I am tensed may be 10 or even more"

"How much it costs"

"5 rupee"

"You burn 30 to 50 rs just for pleasure in one day?" said she. She stared at a distance pondering something and calculating it on her finger. "1500 Rs in a month and in a year..." She got lost with her numbers. I pulled out my cell phone and quickly calculated it and found out that it’s actually 18000 in a year. I kept the figure to myself in some kind of embarrassment. I was amused at her mathematics. She looks illiterate though.

"Do you have a family?"

This was turning personal now but I was enjoying it. I let the bus go. 7 got in and just one alighted. Had it been a stop somewhere near Dadar or Mumbai Central, 4 would have alighted and 15 would have got in. Smelling more sweat and rubbing their body parts more furiously. I wanted to talk to this lady for a while. "Your bus" said she. "I need to go elsewhere" I lied to her. She itched her loosely tied dirty grey hair. She tried to pull a bug out of her hair which resembled like a bird's deserted nest.

"Those who are blessed with more money have a tendency to waste it more" She uttered. I smiled back at her.

I asked her "Who do you live with".

"None. I never had kids. My husband died of some unknown disease".

"What did the doctor say" asked I.

"The doctor of the slum had no clue and the doctor in Andheri asked for 250 rs as his fee". I kept begging day after day. The more I got the more I spent in his food and my food. A part of it was taken by the contractor." Perhaps she was referring to the guy who would be collecting hafta from her slum area.

“He slept one day and never rose again. There was no need to collect Rs 250 ever again”.

“I am sorry”.

"Babu, can you give me 500 Rs? I want to buy myself specs. I don’t have any one who I can borrow from. I will return to you perhaps someday"

I chose to ignore her demanding request.

My bus came and I wanted to catch it. As I rose she said "you can spend 1500 for your cigarettes and you people can’t spare 500 for me so that I can see the world a little better".

I occupied the window seat and the bus started to move. I looked at her. She wasn’t looking at me. Perhaps in complete dejection.

I lay on my bed thinking about her. She was so right. I spend fuckin 18 grand thousand rupees or even more a year for my luxury habit of smoking. She was knocking my mind again and again. I felt a staunch in my lower belly. Perhaps because of ignoring the lunch and also the dinner. But I felt a big fat tires around my belly. I should start jogging.

The next morning I dressed myself as a Reebok boy. Red sleeveless Reebok t-shirt and pearl white silk Reebok shorts with ankle length Reebok socks and my Reebok running shoes. I felt as if I am Reebok’s brand ambassador. It was all new. I bought it as a hamper two months so that it would give me a quick start to jog. Finally I got a reason to run today. I ran for not more than 500 meters when I ran out of my breath. I cursed myself for smoking. I wonder whether I would perform the same in bed. And then pushed the silly thought away.

I thought not to smoke. As long as I could resist. And I wanted to be firm this time. I tied a red thread to my index finger. It would keep me reminded.

It has been 17 days since I last smoked. I looked back. There was she. There was a realization of spending 18000 grand for this luxurious bad habit and there was a panting me who couldn’t even run 500 meters. And a scare of loosing stamina. I connected all the dots which let me quit smoking. I wanted to meet her. I went to the same bus stop. I couldn’t find her.

I have been through the same way for so many days now. I never was able to find her again. I wish I could buy her a pair of spectacles. She deserved this small gift at least.

P.S While writing this blog I misspelled the spelling of “cigarette” each time it occurred. I wrote it as “cigeretee”. Its worth quitting. I don’t even know how to spell it and I have been fueling 18 F thousand grand for cigeretes.

My Girlfriend

She came with a bunch of red roses in her hand. She looked at me. With lot of hopes. She even smiled at me. I was pretty clueless. She didnt look attractive. She didnt have that electrifying smile as well. I was actually not interested in her. There were other things on top of my mind at that time and this girl with red roses was certainly not my priority.

She looked again at me. This time with more pleading smile. I tried to look away from her. I didn't give any importance to her. I normally don't. I tried to pose as if I didn't notice her at all. She pleaded again "Babuji, le lo na".

I looked on the other side of the road. I saw a girl of the same age. She wore tattered clothes. She was pretty much grown up. She must be atleast 15. She was not attractive either. But the fat guy in the Honda CIVIC couldn't think anything else. I wonder how would I know what he was thinking. But his eyes were pretty vivid. His eyes travelled from top of her entangled hair to the partly uncovered breasts. He must be cursing why didn't she meet her on a lonely road. He gave her a coin and moved ahead as the signal went green.

This girl was still there. This time she said "Please Babuji". I smiled at myself. How strong is this word "Please". All those who speak english or don't speak english never miss the opportunity to say "Please" if they know that sayign Please would actually clinch the deal. I thought for a quick moment. This girl is far far better than the one standing on the other side of the road. She ain't begging. She is selling. She is working. I felt like supporting her. I passed on a twenty rupee note. She gave me a million dollar smile with a bunch of red roses. I didn't bother to count how many were they. The car behind me had already started honking. As if I will live on thsi road forever. I looked back and saw the most disgusting cursing face I had ever seen in months.

I quickly moved ahead. I was going to meet my granny. I hadn't seen her for over two months. She ain't my granny actually. She lives in Agashe Old Age home. She calls me Vicky. She calls me Vicky because her boyfriend was called by that name. Her parents forced marry her with someone and they lived happily ever after untill her children pushed her out to this old age home after her husband had passed away.

She says she loves me. She says she sees a son in me and all those people in me who at one point of time had given her love. I parked my car in front of the old age home. She was waiting for me. I crossed my hand over my back and held the roses hididng from her. Granny was happy when I tapped her head gently with the roses. I said "Its for you". She said "I love you". She was again in tears.

The Grass is greener on the Other Side

I sat in my balcony beside the rose plant. I have been seeing 3 buds which haven't blossomed since three weeks. I look far in the sky where the land meets the sky. The land has met the sky. The sun is yet to meet the land. I have been waiting for the sun to set - for once if this sun sets then there will be morning the next day. For once the next day will have roses blossomed all over. And then the air around me will be filled with freshness and with aroma.


The tired Sun refuses to go any further. A drowsy me lie down on the river bed waving my hand in the clear water of the river. But I can't see deep down the river. I can feel straw and leaves passing by and I try to catch hold of them but they slip each time. I am amused. I have never been able to catch hold of small things in my life. They have always been playing touch-and-go with me.


I run my fingers in the grass bed sitting near the Kadamb tree. I look up and see the yellow fruit which appeals me so much but yet can't quench my hunger. I look down at the grasses, they are turning yellow. They wish if I cry and the water runs over them. They will be quenched for once. But I do not have more tears to shed.


I am yet to run behind the sun - chase it - wish it to set one day. The next day will be more beautiful.

10:35 ki Fast Local

These trains do not start with a chug and move like a lazy serpent. They start with a thud and gain speed like wind. This is a typical Mumbai Local. I do not remember the date but all what I remember is the closeness of her in the crowded train and her warm breath over my neck which were more prominent than the breeze gushing in from the wide doors of the train.

I had reached Thane station 12 minutes before the scheduled departure of 10:35 fast local for Bombay VT. The goons preferred naming it Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus. I sat comfortably near a window seat when my nose was filled by with the spicy flavour of vada being fried. I peeped out to see a vendor fishing out hot vadas from a big Kadhayee. I couldn't resist myself and thought to grab one. There was still sometime left for the train to depart. If Mumbai Locals form the lifeline of Mumbai then these vada pav are like the fuel for the Mumbaikars. I gulped down the excess saliva which was flushing my mouth and went to buy it.

I turned back to see that my window seat was already taken by an elderly person. I didnt want to crib about it as the vada pao was going to be more relinquishing than the window seat. I got my vada pao and paid hurriedly. I sprang onto the train which would move any moment after the clock struct 10:35. It was tough to get inside. I managed to inch myself on the footstep of the train. And then the next moment came as a stagger in my life. I saw her rushing towards the train which had just started. She rushed balancing her bag and her duppatta at the same time. She caught hold of the vertical iron bar in between the wide gate of the local. Little did she realise that she was actually holding my hand. She stepped over my left leg and I helped her to get in the train.

I didnt want to leave the door because of the suffocation which was inviting me inside but didn't want to let this girl get smashed in the maddening crowd. I tried to make some space for her. She was still panting and a sweat drop was inching down her neck over her ear lobes. She gasped for more air and looked at me. She smiled and thanked me for my gesture. We had enough space now as the crowd had settled along with the zooming speed of the train. But this was a short lived comfort. No sooner the train had gained speed than it stopped at Mulund and a fresh "herd" of people pushed in. She was pushed closer to me. I moved my face away from her lest people would have taken it otherwise.

She whispered sorry and her face turned red in embarrassment. "I boarded the wrong coach; I always board the Ladies Coach - I am sorry", said she. I smiled back at her in assurance that it was fine and that the crowd shall settle soon. The rattling noise of the fast moving train, the chirping crowd and also the rhythmic lines of kirtan group sitting in the adjacent coach could not perturb the silence which was there between us. Suddenly the crowd started pushing even more. I looked out to realize that Dadar would be next station. She asked if the next station is Dadar - that was a question as well as an information. May be she wanted me to build some space for her amidst the crowd for her to alight safely.

I confirmed her about the next station and said that I would be alighting as well. I swirled by eye balls. My alter-ego showed me the middle finger. Was I really alighting at Dadar ? And if yes, what excuse shall I give to my Boss ? I didn't want to think about my Boss. She appears not much different than Mayawati.

I thought that I will get down at Dadar and may be I will be able to befriend her. Dadar came. She got down and so did I. I tried to move with her for a couple of minutes when I saw a tall man waving her hand from near the ticket counter.


She rushed and they hugged each other.


I stood there reading the indicators - I need to catch the next train to Bombay VT. Life is fast in Mumbai - isn't it ;) ?

Belling the Hindu Cat - Male Circumcision

Preventing AIDS by cutting down illegitimate and unprotected sex or by safeguarding blood transfusions is well known. What comes next in row is interesting but has started spreading the sparks of controversies as well.

While reading a daily news tabloid, I came across this interesting and new-to-me topic which speaks about circumcised mail being less prone to AIDS - as less as 70%. No matter how well this might be proven or effective, whats more perturbing is the mentality of hindu fundamentalists who are not ready to accept this. To an extent, that a top notch hindu leader called this novice idea as a "sabotage to hindu faith". This I shall describe later.

The reasoning goes like this : Laboratory studies have found that the foreskin of the penis is rich in white blood cells, which are favored targets of HIV, the virus that causes AIDS. So the theory is that men who are uncircumcised are much more likely to contract the virus during sex with an infected woman. This unpublished experiment has shown astounding results. The male circumcision has rightly been called as 'surgical vaccine'.

Although the apparent protective effect of circumcision has been noted for more than 20 years, doubts linger as to whether circumcision itself is protective, or whether the lower risk may be the result of cultural practices among those who circumcise. HIV rates are low in Muslim communities, for example, which practice male circumcision but also engage in ritual washing before sex and frown on promiscuity.

The National Aids Research Institute is planning to come up with a survey. Nothing to do with AIDS - but the ground work before fancying this novel idea could spread its boon is already being jeopardised. Bajrang Dal workers in Meerut have launched a campaign against the survey. The Vishwa Hindu Parishad (VHP) has also reacted strongly. The so called self proclaimed godfathers of hinduism have termed this concept as "obnoxious" and "a conspiracy". Leave apart AIDS, circumcision is known to reduce the risk of many fungal and bacterial infections (STDs) and also reduces risk of cervical cancer to partners of circumcised men. But who will bell the cat and make the hindu protagonists understand that there is far more better world if we look beyond our conservative school of thoughts.

Simple Pleasure

Illusion of color beyond darkness

Back to solitariness

Rohit sat with his legs folded on the sea shore. Scribbling something on the sand with his fingers and waited for the waves to come and wash it away. Rohit never knew he would be so profundly executed by this relationship. Without much thoughts on its persistence and longivity he moved into a rational relationship with Neelima.

Neelima and Rohit worked together. Rohit was simple, down to earth and a contended guy. Neelima was fashionable, every ready to spread wings and fly, happy-go-lucky and very lively. Their complimentary nature brought them together and even before they could discover each other as friends, Rohit proposed Neelima. Neelima was naive, ignorant and saw a "Mr. Perfect" in Rohit.

Rohit started disliking his solitariness and was impressed by the "life" which Neelima brought in his life. Fun never ended. Cooking together, watching movies, sitting by marine drive, waiting for each other after office, or could be as simple as travelling in a bus together became a part of each other's life.

After a late-night show Neelima pecked on his left cheek. That was Rohit's happiest moment. Some dates cant be simply forgotten - that was 4th June 2006. Once Neelima travelled stepping on Rohit's feet standing close enough for each other to feel the warmth of their breath in a claustrophobic Mumbai local. Some numbers cant be forgotten - it was 3:35 pm fast local to Churchgate. Neelima and Rohit stood in front of a cartoon kiosk which drew their pencil sketch. Some places cant be forgotten - it was Ad Labs Wadala. A vegetarian Neelima tasted fish from Rohit's plate. Some moments cant be forgotten - it was a barbecued pomfret.

Everything went good until one fine day happiness was overpowered by a "sadist storm". He came searching solace out of his broken relationship. He went devastating and breaking Rohit's relationship. And Neelima got swayed away by the hypnotist devil. Without any remorse and without any pain. Probably because Neelima was not like Rohit. Neelima believed in the concept of "I" unlike Rohit who believed in the concept of "WE". Neelima called this new paradigm shift of her "feelings" as something which "just happened". She called it an irrational move but termed it to be true love. Rohit was bewildered fighting with himself to discover the jargon which Neelima used to substantiate her moves. Money, glamour, life style, upper-class-society couldn't outshine the modesty of being honest and dedicated. Rohit broke down.

This story is just another paint on a canvas. A simple love triangle which complicated three lives. If only the "Storm" would have had ethicsand had respect for an individual's feelings then life would have been sweeter for Rohit. Rohit wept in solitariness for days. But the question I always ask Rohit is 'Are you so afraid of being alone?' , 'Was Neelima worth all these tears?' , 'If Neelima couldn't be yours, If she couldn't respect your love ; would her love be respected enough?'.

The answer to above questions might be simple or at times insignificant. But still we look for answers. Love can never be described. What is love for me could be a morbid obsession for someone else and yet he or she would call it love. What is Love for me could be a selfish and treacherous victory for someone else. Love doesn't always ends in smile. But inadvertently the more you cry the more you attain wisdom.

I left Rohit to cry. He will understand life a little better in a few days.