Footloose in Bundelkhand

Somewhere in Bundelkhand

Her precious jamuns

The grey tarred road stretched endlessly, breaking the monotony of rain washed green that dominated the landscape. We were in Bundelkhand, in central India, driving south from Khajuraho (story here), through the reserve forests, towards Jata Shankar temple. For many kilometers, ours was the only vehicle on the road. We were, once or twice, overtaken by a jeep or a bus, and sometimes we passed sleepy little villages in the forest clearing. These village houses were compact structures built on a single level, with flattened earth tile roof. The side walls of these houses were decorated with dried cow dung patties - fuel for a rainy day.

Caked in mud, herds of water buffalos strolled along the road without a care in the world, their brass bells tinkling as they shook their head or chewed on cud. Often we had to slow down and allow them right of way. In muddy rain created pools, few others lay neck deep, making the most of the spa-like mud bath. Sometimes we passed agricultural lands that stretched on for as far as the eye could see, and whole families worked together on the fields, building stick fences or tending to their produce. We stopped once to have a word, to ask what it was that they cultivated, and heard instead the story of the wandering cattle and the picky fowl that had ruined their hard day’s work. Further down the road, a boy sold jamuns, freshly plucked from those roadside trees growing on no-man’s land - a large packet for Rs 20.

Through the farms

Gowri and I were on a three-day trip to Khajuraho, but after a day of wandering around the temples in the scorching July sun, they all started to look alike. On day two, we wanted to do something else, and having found a friend in the old uncle running the Madras Coffee House, we asked him for suggestions. (Earlier in the day, we had hired an auto-rickshaw for a trip to Pandav falls, but fear got the better of us, and we returned half way. Full text here). For a nominal rate, he rented his white air-conditioned Swift Dezire and just to assure us that all will be well, promised to accompany us.

Though originally from Tamil Nadu, he had lived in these parts for over 65 years and had seen this society change from a feudal class dominated world ruled by kings to a place ripped up by dacoits and then to the more confused and fragmented society of today. He was a good storyteller, and in us, he found two avid listeners. He switched between Hindi and Tamil with ease, much like the characters of his stories – the past Kings of this region, the notorious Pooran Singh, MGR and the Pandava Vanavasam (story from the Mahabharata).

During their exile, the Pandavas are said to have lived in the forests of Bundhelkhand, and the stories of these wandering mendicants are deeply woven into popular folklore. A thirsty Draupadi asked Bhima to get her some water, and instead of looking for a water source, Bhima chose to crack the earth open with his mace, thus creating Bhimkund - a natural water tank, the depth of which is still unknown. 

Deep mysteries of Bhimkund

A flight of slippery steps lead to this water body. It’s dark inside the cave, except for the small opening on the roof, where the mace is said to have fallen. The blueness of the skies is reflected in these deep waters, and its said to remain blue throughout the year - never a shade of mossy green or muddy brown. During the 2004 Tsunami, the water is said to have risen 30 meters high, like a wave, though the closest beach is a 1000 kms away.

Onwards to Jata Shankar

Little boys frolicked in the waters, showing of their swimming and diving skills. Few had tried to hold their breath till they hit the bottom of the pool, but none had ever succeeded. Towards the right, where the water is at its deepest, there is a channel, which connects it to a nearby river. Pilgrims pay homage at the small temple on the banks of the pond. I stepped forward to dip my feet, and the water felt extremely cold and was surprisingly clear.

From Bhimkund, we made our way towards Jata Shankar, another Hindu pilgrimage site, tucked away the deep forest. It was Amavasya, the day of the new moon. To a religious Hindu, it is a day of fasting and prayers, and Lord Siva is at the center of things. As we drove towards the temple, I noticed that many pilgrims were walking in the same direction. Men, woman and children walk for as long as 19 or 20 kilometers to offer their prayers at this cave temple, where stalagmite formations rise up to form the Shiva Linga. Makeshift shops decorated the sidewalks leading to the temple, and here we had a light meal of watery dal, rotis and tea. As the main pooja was only later in the night, we decided to head back.

Footloose in Bundelkhand

All through my journey never once did I cross a hospital or a small clinic. Not once did I see the large gates of a school, the kind that you are used to seeing while traveling across India. Public transport is next to nil in these regions and connectivity bad. Even if a bus does come by, there are people hanging from the roof, restricting travel plans. I also noticed, vast expanse of land, some ploughed and farmed, others bare and forsaken. This region has been in the news for all the wrong reasons - infant mortality, lack of education and hygiene and a high number of people falling in the Below Poverty Line category. 

Traveling through this region, it became evident that Bundelkhand has been largely ignored by the state, and their demand for a separate state is justified. But at the same time, in a class dominated society like this one, how much progress and sustainable development will any ruling class be willing to bring?

Back in Khajuraho, a mini mela had sprung up to cater to the Amavasya rush. An old man displayed his wares - glass bangles, kajal, kunkum, combs, clips… another had a collection of colourful wind wheels, balloons and whistles. There was puffed rice, jaggery and sugarcane in another corner – offerings to the Gods. Wearing bright orange, pink and blue glittery saris woman made their way through the crowd towards the peepal tree. They tied a thread around it and circled it 101 times - prayers send out to the universe for a better tomorrow.

Amavasya mela 

Khajuraho’s main income comes from tourism, but during off season, life rewinds into flashback mode. Town folks worship at the ancient Siva shrine, and continue to pledge their loyalty to the Maharajah. He is and has always been their protector. The echoes of the past are at its loudest during off season. Here, myths, folklore and epics converge, diversify and diverge.

Defiance Poetry: yes, i have breasts

Male magnified gaze

Sometimes I get the feeling that I am being looked at through a magnifying glass. A giant convex lens with a thick black frame, and peeping from behind it, many curious, hungry eyes. 

As a woman walking on the streets I feel threatened. At restaurants, because I eat alone, I feel the male gaze. At bus stops, the wolf-whistles grows louder. I react. Sometimes with a stern look, a lifted finger, a curt word. 

More often I react through defiance. This once, through poetry. 

i have breasts

but i will not apologise        

not to you, who on the streets, think it fair to guess sizes loud

not to you, who on the bus, fix greedy eyes on my perky twins

not to you, concerned friend, subtle hints won't work with me

i have breasts but i won’t gift wrap

first a dupatta and then a shielding bag
nor will i, head meekly down, shrink into self

or curb my curious wandering eyes

you teach me young to disown my body
to hide ashamed beneath shapeless layers
i for one want to flaunt it all
hour-glass, apple, banana or pear

what then, if i have 'em breasts

they ain't no reason to apologise

A Turtle Walk to Remember

Walking to Life

Isn't it strange how sometimes you forget about certain life changing experiences until something happens and stirs up that Pensieve? (You guessed it, I love Potter books). While I was in Trissur last week, I paid a visit to my husband’s ancestral home. In its current state of abandon, the house and its grounds are overrun with weeds. We made our way through the thickest, my father-in-law and I, searching for fallen coconuts. The grounds are notoriously dangerous, especially after the rains, and our search took us towards the unused pond. There, on its sandy banks my father-in-law spotted something that looked like a dry coconut husk. It was the shell of a tortoise – hard, grey and empty. I wondered how the animal had died. Did someone kill it for its meat or did it die a natural death at a ripe old age. I know they live to be a 100, sometimes even more. 

Way back in 2008, when I was still living in Chennai, I had gone on a Turtle Walk with some of my colleagues and a bunch of conservationists. I remember the date clearly; it was after 10  pm on February 29^th, the leap year day. And it was something that I had wanted to do for a long time, ever since my college buddy Koshy described his walk experience.

Team dinner, group meet and turtles

I was with my team mates Bijoy Bharathan and Jonathan and the three member business reporting gang, Anandan sir, Sangeetha and Chirathan. 

The office cab dropped us off at Neelankarai, where we met Arun, from the Students' Sea Turtle Conservation Network - a voluntary group, working along the beaches of Chennai, trying to conserve and create awareness about Olive Ridley sea turtles. From stray dogs that feed on them, to greedy fisher folks looking for free omelet eggs, to propellers that mow down the swimming turtles; for these yearly visitors looking for a safe place to lay eggs, enemies were aplenty. The group was making great progress with locals in these areas, but even then they had ahead of them a challenging job. 

At about 11 pm, the group was fully formed - scouts or trained turtle spotters, regular walkers and a few first timers like us. Arun briefed us about what the night might have in store. We were to walk along the coast from Neelankarai beach to Besant Nagar (6.5 km stretch) and the journey was to be completed by 5 am the next morning. We were warned against using harsh lights or taking too loudly, as these might scare away the nesting turtle. “I cannot guarantee that you will see any turtles,” Arun said, making my heart sink.

Soon we set off in groups of six, with flashlights and the faint moon guiding us on. I remember thinking that sea was at its loudest and quickly realizing that this is probable because it was past midnight, and the streets were silent. Soon someone spotted something and we quickened our pace. 

Nesting time

A turtle had come to nest. Sand flew from under her hind legs as she laboriously worked the soil away, digging a pit deep and just right enough for her eggs. We gathered around, but the mother seemed oblivious to the attention that she was getting or she probably just wanted to lay those eggs. Her digging complete, she quickly moved on to the task in hand. We saw the eggs drop, one at a time, in rapid succession. Around 70 of them, I counted. 

While a camera managed to capture most of the action on night mode, the turtle, relived at last, started its next task. Once again sand flew all around, as she used her hind legs to cover up the pit and then used the weight of her body to pat down the sand and camouflage her nesting site. The sound of the waves guided her back to the sea, and in less than an hours, she had come, laid her eggs and vanished into the night. 

The team from the conservation network got down to business. They had to collect the eggs and also check the temperature and depth of the pit to rebuilt a similar one in the hatchery. There the eggs would stay, protected till the day they would hatch. On the way to the hatchery, the scouts spotted another turtle nesting site. The same process was repeated and more eggs bagged. 

Further down the beach, we spotted two dead turtles and a dolphin. I remember thinking that this was my first dolphin sighting as well. The feasting stray dogs stood silent and still until we passed the carcass.

Marching to the sea

Dawn was slowly breaking. I could see the sun as a faint orange line in a distance. We were approaching the fag end of our long walk and I was trailing behind. The magic of day break keeping me away from the walkers. What an exciting night it had turned out to be... but it wasn't over just yet, because the scouts ahead were waving once again. 

A set of eggs in the safe house was hatching. The little ones were crawling out of their egg shells and taking baby steps towards the ocean. The tide, the waves and the magnetic field were all guiding them on, and like troupes returning home from battle, they stomped towards the finish line. I picked one up and like a new born baby she wriggled (and was probably crying loud too). I was afraid that I’d drop her or hurt her, so I gently put her down near the sea, and she paddled away, riding high on the morning waves… a blob in a distance that soon vanished. 

For travelers heading to Chennai, looking for adventures that's outside the guide books, the Students' Sea Turtle Conservation Network could be a good start. In one single night I had witnessed birth, survival and death. For planning that adventure I have Jonathan to thank. And the dead turtle from last week, for reminding me again about the Circle of Life, that moves us all. 

Partners in Crime (read Travel)

My world on my shoulders

I have noticed that people are far more receptive of me when I’m traveling alone. Some want to know why I do it others pick my brain about travel experiences and always conversation and food flows and before long we part friends.

But I’m not always a single woman traveler. I enjoy company on the roads and I’m blessed with two fabulously different and unique travel companions. Between the two of them, they ensure that I have a great time and solid memories to fill up my backpack.

My partner Sajeev, is a busy corporate guy, whose idea of travel is associated with the words ‘break’ or ‘vacation’. Timeline, USP (unique selling proposition), constraints, value add and EOD (End of Day) are terms that come into play when we plan our travels together. Like all business heads, he likes to delegate, which means I end up doing all the planning, researching and booking, but within the framework of the above mentioned keywords. 

Corporate busy-bee

This I enjoy, because it allows me to design our trips in a manner that works for the both of us. For him the luxuries of a comfortable bed, relaxation massages and fine dining; for me, some local cuisine and interactions, neighborhood markets and breathtaking moments. It is a sort of middle path, that combines the 'holiday' with the 'travel' experience.

None of these rules apply when I’m traveling with my bestie. Gowri is a cinematographer turned social ad film maker, who like me, believes that having no plan is the best plan. This is also because experience has taught us that when the two of us plan things to the T, nothing ever works out. So we simply decide on a date, and pack our cases, and let the road lead us. Sometimes we get into trouble and then rely on common sense or friends to bail us out. But after what can only be termed as the worst experience ever (link here), we have learnt to travel more cautiously.

Gowri's photograph in print: ET-TRAVEL

Ultimately I believe that it doesn’t matter how you travel, so long as the means has justified the end. This is a travel blog, but sometimes I digress and talk about people or food or an experience or an observation because travel is not just about going to places and dotting the map. It’s those things that you discover, that makes every trip worth taking. 

One final thought. Sometimes the best travel stories can come from our own backyard (meaning city or town), and I promise to be on the lookout for those kinds too. 

15 Things You Didn't Know About Me

The other day a reader wrote me saying there is very little information on my blog about the person I am. I thought long and hard about that, but a smart answer eluded me. So instead I took the easy way out, and drew up a list – 15 things you didn't know about me.

Will this do?

1. First and the most obvious. I'm a list maniac. Packing list, To-do list, Grocery list, Birthday list… I make lists. I simply can’t function without them. Could also be that I have the memory of a gold fish. This naturally brings me to the second item on the list.

My phone cam pic

2. Its not personal, but I’m bad with names – horrible, terrible with names. But good with faces and places.

3. I met His Holiness the Dalai Lama's in Jaipur during JLF'13. Covered his press conference and sat a mere 5 ft away. Yes, he was inspirational. And patient enough to indulge all of us. Someone even asked him about his Masterchef Australia appearance. If I manage to find the audio recording from that interview, I promise to make a post of it. (Meanwhile, you can read about my tete-a-tete with the Australian Masterchefs here). 

4. Starting over in a new place is a real challenge. It tells you what your chances really are. I've done that. TWICE! 

5. I didn't have a passport for the first 24 years of my life.

6. When people presume I don’t have the stamina to do certain things, it pisses me off. Yes I’m a woman and I’m not skinny, but hey I’m not dead either.

7. I got inked in Malaysia this year, but I took five years to conquer my fear of the needle. No, it doesn't hurt bad. The noise of the machine is scarier. That’s why Apple invented the iPod.

Yup, its a selfie no doubt

8. I got lost in Turkey, while traveling there on work (full story here). Was rescued and dropped off safe by a policeman in his official car, rotating lights and all.  

9. I’m perfecting the art of taking artful selfies.

10. I still get goosebumps thinking about my first camping experience. The raging storm nearly blew the tent away but I woke up to a magnificent sunrise at the foothills of the Himalayas. That blog post found here.  

11. I was in the school band, played the trumpet. We didn't win the inter-school competition that year. 

12. Jughead is my comic book hero. And like him, I was christened ‘the bottomless pit’ in school. I grew up to become a food critique and connoisseur and have two successful food shows to my credit. It’s all there on my personal YouTube page.

13. I did theatre in college, studied English Literature and Communication, started my career in a Public Relations firm, crossed over to the other side and took up journalism.

No.. I can't.. no..nooo...

14. During takeoff, I close my eyes, hold my breath and my seat. Remember Meg Ryan in French Kiss?

15.  When I’m not traveling solo, my partner (busy corporate television person) Sajeev travels with me. At other times my bestie and genius photographer Gowri gives me company.

So this here is a list of things that might interest you about me. Or maybe not. Phew! I just found out how hard it is to make a selfie list. Have you made one already? Leave it in the comment section cos by now you know I love listings. 

Beyond Khajuraho's Kama Sutra

July in Khajuraho

It finally arrived from the frame shop last week, a memory sealed within a 2" thick brown wood border. Today it hangs proudly in the front room, the amateurish stroke mistaken for mine by ignorant, visiting neighbours, who loose interest when I tell them it's tribal Gond Art from Madhya Pradesh. To them, it is inexpert colour, to me a small part of a beautiful memory.

Travel finds

Nine months have passed since that trip to Bundelkhand. The hills were unsafe after the floods they said, so towards the plains we (Gowri & I) moved. The trip was a special one,

because it was going to be our last before I shifted cities. We had learnt our lesson from our previous train travel, so this time around we traveled in style in the air conditioned coach. Its a 10-odd hour trip, and the next morning we woke up to the sight of lush green hills and endless plains.

In 'boar'ing company 

Our accommodation chosen after carefully reading the reviews on boooking.com was basic. We checked in, freshened up and set off to explore the temple town. Gowri wanted to travel by bike, but I wasn't very confident about staying on it, so we walked. The main temple cluster is on the Western side, and there are a few others on the Eastern and Southern parts. Of course if you travel in July, like we did, chances are that you wouldn't want to spend any more time than you absolutely have to, out in the sun.

The main tour begins at this gigantic 9-ft Varaha or boar temple - the third avatar of Vishnu. Carved out of a single stone, this beauty has 675 miniature figures carved on it, depicting the Gods of the Hindu pantheon. Though it was magnificent, we were dying to see the erotic sculptures. After all wasn't that what Khajuraho was all about? How wrong we were!

At the Lakshmana Temple, we caught sight of the first erotic carvings. The temple, had on its outer wall carvings that depicted all walks of life - a wedding procession, a war march, a musical setting, and among other things sex.

All kinds of it - couples, orgies, homosexual encounters... one look at the carvings and you'll know that there was a time, (between 950 and 1050 AD to be precise) when sex was spoken, written, carved and probably practiced with gay abandon, and therefore allowed on 'sacred' temple walls.

Lakshmana Temple

And here we are today, on the threshold of change and development, rewriting laws to make same sex marriages a criminal offence or imposing strict moral codes on ourselves based on gender, religion and community. I am going a little off track and sounding like an old tape recorder. Back to Khajuraho then.

After shower

Though sex is depicted on some temple walls, to brand Khajuraho as a Kama Sutra haven would be a crime. This temple town is an architectural masterpiece, each structure designed keeping in mind vastu rules and mythological specifications. The one dedicated to the Sun God faces the East, the one for Shiva has a smaller temple on the opposite side dedicated to Nandi. The 'garbhagraha' or the sanctum sanctorum has circular or square shaped roof depending on the deity in question.

And the carvings.. my oh my.. the art work on each of these temples will blow your mind away! One work particularly caught my fancy. A woman is in a state of undress and the artist has captured the fall of her garment and the curve of her back as she stretches. The Kandariya Mahadev temple was like a poetry cast in stone. At 102-ft, the magnitude of its construction was visible in the recurring patterns and designs on sandstone. It was a bright sunny day, so after nearly four hours of heat and sweat and sun burn, we decided to call it a day.

Our plan was to explore the surrounding areas on day two. So off we went in a hired auto, past the temple town and the airport, in the direction of Panna National Park. As we left the main town behind, the landscape changed. Concrete houses made way for mud tiled ones and soon the thatched roof kind. Then even those vanished, and it was just us on the road, with dry, empty fields on either sides and an occasional grazing buffalo.

I could see that life in Khajuraho is not easy. Connectivity is a grave problem and so is education and development. For years now, strong voices of dissent has risen from Bundelkhand, seeking more funds and possibly a separate state. Post Telangana these voices have only grown louder. The auto stuttered on, and about 20-minutes later, a crowded bus precariously balancing its passengers and their possession on its roof, passed us in the opposite direction. I had seen something like this in the Fevicol advertisement, and had laughed at what I presumed was exaggeration.

Village scene

Now that the bus was gone, the road seemed endless and lonely and the two of us were worried for our own safety. According to the driver, we had traveled half way, but we decided to double back. Call us paranoid or call us cautious, but the loss of a few hundred rupees and half a day was a small price to pay for peace of mind, and probably safety.

Dots & Dashes

When the auto fellow dropped us off near the temple, I noticed a small shop where a man sat painting. Dilip Singh specialises in Gond and Rajasthani style of art, and was at that point working on a commissioned piece for a resort - colourful fishes on a yellow background painted using dots and dashes.

How we befriended him and convinced him to part with his painting is the second part of this story. In that post, I'll also included stories of our adventures across Chhatarpur district, at the often ignored Bhimkund and the pilgrimage site of Jatashakar.

Shiva & Nandi temples

Kandariya Mahadev Temple

A Birthday memoir on April Fool's

Prank? Joke?

Today is the 1^st of April, a day reserved for pranksters. When I was a younger, I used to try really hard to come up with a good April Fool's Day trick. But who was I kidding? I don’t have a single funny bone in my being, and jokes never come easy to me. But in my class was this other girl, a sorta tomboy character who enjoyed reading Hardy Boys rather than Nancy Drew and preferred basketball and other sweaty sports to staying indoors. Thressy had a sense of humour to match her April 1^st birthday.

Kainady farmhouse at Thamarassery

But I’m a November born. Every year, I pretend that I don't care about my birthday. What is all this fuss about, I keep saying. Secretly hoping that I’d be spoilt rotten, by the people I love. So when my best buddies called to cancel their birthday visit plan, I sensed a conspiracy - a surprise maybe, and so I waited. 

That day, I was up early, but when the doorbell stayed silent well past the expected hour, reality sunk in. The excuses were genuine and the cancellation for real. To cheer me up, my husband suggested we stick to our original plan of visiting Thressy at her farmhouse.

One for love

Thamarassery, is a slow little town on the foothills of Wayanad, and as we left the main market place and drove further up, the landscape changed from beautiful to magnificent. A case of mistaken identity and a small detour later, we arrived at the plantation. Thressy was at the gate to usher us in, and on the dining table awaiting my arrival was this pretty little cake that her mother had baked. It was decorated with fresh flowers from the garden, and when I closed my eyes to make a wish, I knew it was going to be a good day after all.

Cake and lunch later, we set out for a walk. The estate was set up by her grandfather and his uncle in the 1940's. When they first decided to start their plantation here, in the rugged and mountainous region, they were faced with the task of taming the wild undergrowth and surviving the unknown. I imagined their struggles must have been similar to those undergone by Mathew and Elsa in Malaya (characters from Amitav Ghosh's The Glass Place, which I was reading at that time). 

The magic rub

Here too, the main crop is rubber, but nestling beneath the tall trees were pineapple shrubs. Thressy had answers to all my questions, I'm guessing others before me have quizzed her thus. From her I learnt that a rubber tree lives for 30 years, and it takes five or six years for it to mature and yield the white milk or sap. Of course this also means that during the early stages, when the trees need looking after, the land is positively yield-less. That is where the tropical pineapples come in, because they make the best intercrop. 

Our walk turned out to be a pleasurable exercise with her pointing out and naming every tree and shrub there was. Sajeev and I learnt to recognize the magnificent Mahogany, to spot and step away from the parachuting itchy-worms that live on tall teak trees, to differentiate between coffee and coco (in my defense, they look rather similar in their fruitless state). There were others too... like the cannon ball tree and the Elephant Ear Figs, but I’ve completely lost track of all the others she pointed out.

Fishing...

I’m not an outdoorsy person, (but you probably known that already from my earlier trekking post), and until then I had never really given fishing a thought. But that’s what we did next, at a small pond in the estate. Hook, line and sinker in hand, I waited for my first catch. Of course Thressy being the expert caught a large one just minutes after she had lowered the hook. Sajeev soon caught up with her, and just when I thought I'll never be able to catch one before losing my patience, there it was. A slight tug, a reflexive pull, and I caught my first fish ever! The stem of a coconut leaf was cleverly fashioned to hold all the fishes together and proudly we walked back home. What a day this was turning out to be, but the fun was just beginning.

We went in, got out the inflatable boat, took turns to fill it with air and then carried it all the way back to the lake, for a boating session. My first few attempts at rowing ended up with the boat going around in circles, but soon the rhythm of the water took over and it started moving in the direction that I wanted it to go. Boating done, it was time to visit the footwear factory.

'em chic Methyz 

Thressy’s folks own Methiyadi, the colourful, comfortable and chic footwear brand. I can vouch for its durability, because my pair has lived through the long Triund trek (check the pics) and the travels in Turkey. To finally see them being made at her factory, with the rubber collected from the plantation I had just visited, was something else. Uncle Tom took us on a guided tour of the factory, explained the manufacturing, colouring and assembling process, and also gifted me a brand new pair!

Oh, and then there was Yoyo (short for yojimbo which translates to bodyguard in Japanese), the cutest little baby pug. He was just three weeks old, and was already a handful. He behaved like he owned the place, sneaked under our legs, yelped and squealed when we accidentally stepped on his tiny tail, tripped on the TV wires, pulled things down and did everything possible to gain our attention. And when he was tired of all his silly games, he came by and slept at (and sometimes on) our feet. But that was for just a while; soon he’d be up again, going over the whole routine.

Sitting pretty: Yoyo

When hard work mushrooms

It was getting dark, and was time for us to call it a day. But before that we made one final stop at Harithavidhya, an NGO run by the Kainady family to promote sustainable farm management practices. Here, farmers are given training and new skill sets and also access to books and literature that deal with similar topics. The remnants of a mushroom farming class remained in one of the rooms - small little bulbs growing from within a strawlined plastic bag. Of all the birthdays I've ever had, this was the most unique - fabulous new experiences and food for thought. 

So today, on Thressy’s birthday, as she celebrates it in new and faraway Korea, between lab assignments and class work, I dedicate this post to her, and wish her a birthday that is as exciting as the one she ensured I had. 

Today, on your birthday Thressy.....

Comeback Season

"Hey, I'm back!.... Bringing you stories you've never heard..."  yes yes, my heart sings in true Karan Johar Broadway isthyle. If you don't get the reference, check the video.

I'm finally at my desk, writing a blog post after a gap of nearly 7-months. That's a really long writers block I had there.. But hey, a lot has happened and I just wasn't able to find my personal space and center.

To begin with, I quit my really exciting television job to follow my husband across the county, across seven states to be precise and a little more than 2500 Kms.

Still waters

We bought a countryside home, on the banks of an almost-always still flowing river. Sometimes I wonder if it's really there, and just then, as if to banish my fears, this bright blue kingfisher living on the nearby coconut tree, swoops down for his daily catch, upsetting the stillness to create green circular ripples. Or a lone boatman rows by. Silently.

We have called our place 'Prarthana' which means, a prayer

I was under the impression that when I finally traded the high pressure TV job to play full time missus and part time educator, voice over artist and stage show host (yeah I juggle well), I'd have more time to write.

How wrong was I!! A new house I discovered is like a just born, always crying for attention. The towel ring needs to be fixed, the door needs an extra latch, the tap needs a mesh, the fan needs fixing, and well... ufff.. the list could go on and on and on..

And if it wasn't the house, then it was one of the other jobs. A late night here, a voice test there, a meeting on one day and a seminar the next.

Plus, I have been entertaining. I really wasn't expecting to have so many friends over, but so far I've had Sydney, Chennai, Delhi, Kochi and Bangalore pay me a visit. And I'm waiting impatiently for the others to catch up.

My often ignored writing desk

It all looks rather busy, I know. But what I have also managed to do is keep my travel case packed all the time. At the slightest excuse, and sometimes with none, I have been on the road, meeting and making friends. Which also means, I have news to share, and this is just the start.

For now, I'll leave you with my first home pictures. The other stories will follow in random order.

Just around the corner, a road that makes me smile.