Terrestrial

The sun peeped from behind the soft curves of a sleeping lady giant. And I watched with a little flutter of exhilaration as my ship anchored near the shores of Sanya. I couldn't help thinking - what a beautiful name! Sanya. Befitting the view of slender clouds covering misty mountains floating amidst coral green waters. A slight drizzle and a soft wind blew a suede brown butterfly towards me which whispered something in my ear . Some mysterious chinese whispers.

Home Video

The dust on the road was sprayed on the bus like a thin layer of turmeric powder. I had got into the bus just for old times sakes and was looking out of my perch at a window at the passing scenery with open curiosity. It has been ten years since I had taken this route and as expected, things had changed along this road that reached to the inner villages of Tamil Nadu. As the public transport bus wheezed to a halt in a bus depot at Vizhipuram, I realized that it was bustling with activity unlike the last time I was there. Young kids were selling peeled jack fruit pieces in tiny plastic covers by the dozen through the window. There was a pharmacy at a distance displaying colorful packs of sanitary napkins in the glass display. A jeep stopped nearby from which brown goats hopped out, like spilling coffee beans. Flower sellers, carrying bamboo saucers of white, yellow and red did their rounds around the bus and were frequently stopped by young men who bought them for their lady sitting in the resin seat next to them. The entire place was like a living, thriving organism where each constituent performed its bodily function.

I remember ten years back, when this very spot consisted of a single tea stall and a dilapidated shed that functioned as a bus stop and a cow shed rolled into one. As the bus drivers were on strike, there were very few buses plying into the city and I had waited along with the grandfather on one of the wooden stools outside the tea stall for something like four hours. The night had been warm and clear, with the sky filled with a smattering of stars that I have recently begun to associate only with my deep, dark ocean. The tea stall had been open well into the night, lighted by a single, slender bulb that attracted the inspection of curious insects. The waiting passengers, mostly farmers from the village and their children had been singing to while away the time, while me, in my 'city' clothes sat quietly listening in to their laughter and conversation. Sometimes, I do yearn for those simpler times.

Coming back to the present. A five hour bus ride and a wake-up later, I was in the city of Chennai, sipping a caffe latte with a few friends in one of the fashionable coffee joints that offered wireless Internet. A few college students sat in the table nearby, discussing animatedly about how Star Trek was still hip. The boys were dressed in baggy, waist level pants and the girls in jeans and singlets. A few Canadians sat in the next table with a Lonely Planet in their midst and passing around a camera looking at just clicked pictures. For a minute, I thought that this scene looked vaguely familiar - I could have been sitting at the Hard Rock Cafe in Melbourne, Singapore or Rio and the scene would have been pretty much the same. Youngsters in Madonna T shirts, a few girls having a good time , some tourists and a laughing bunch of friends. The realisation, I must sheepishly admit, made me feel proud.

This narrative has no concluding passage as to the moral of the story. But I can say that I am curious to see how that bus depot in Vizhipuram will turn out ten years from now.

How I ended up in a Swedish prison and other stories.

Copper strips encased in glazed silver. This was how the islands of Sweden looked from the sky as the entire ocean had frozen over. Aerially unreal.

As I entered Stockholm, I couldn't help but immediately notice the difference between Oslo and Stockholm. There were pigeons flying inside the train station, a pipe in the corner was dripping water and the people were definitely more friendlier. As perfect as Norway is, I liked this first impression of imperfection.

Having no idea where the train had stopped, we started wandering around the streets. It was a rather enjoyable walk, soaking the warmth of a yellow winter sun and turning around the streets to suddenly discover a waterfront, and then walk further to see a majestic statue and then we finally stopped at a rather magnificent building that called itself the Royal Palace.

We later came to know that we were in fact, in the old part of the city called Gamla Stan where all the ancient buildings are located elbowing each other. I think the best thing that we did was not to buy a map or a guide book and head for our destinations, but generally get lost. This made us uncover this palace and other gorgeous buildings totally by accident.

This palace is pretty much like an Elizabethan movie set, down to the sequined cushions and huge portraits of kings and queens. Although the interiors were altogether disappointing, I was quite enamoured by the glass chandeliers that came inspired by various forms - snowflakes, ice crystals, diamonds and even human faces. Kept my neck up throughout the walk of the palace, looking at these works of glass art and the mild sprain at the end of it was well worth it.

As we headed out of the palace, the sky had turned a blue hue that I shall decide to call Hooloovoo . ( A term not to be bothered with by the h2g2 challenged person). For others, Ref h2g2:39. In fact, this all pervading hue speared by the spires of the tall churches made the landscape of this part of the city look all the more like a fairytale book.

Went inside an ancient church that shone with its golden interiors and architecture, quite like the famous Duomo in Milan. Traipsed into a museum which we later discovered was purely a museum of coins. Unless you get a kick out of looking at grim looking faces staring back from little metal scraps, I would advice against this. To the museum's credit, it did house the world's largest coin ever, which, was not only incredibly cool but incredibly heavy as well.

What did blow my mind, was the cafe that we entered next. Suitably named Cafe Art, it was situated in a cubby hole that we had to stoop down to enter. It took a little while to get used to the dark interiors. With a cave like appearance and paintings hung over the stone walls, it looked like the perfect place where one could sit with endless cups of coffee and write an entire Ulysses. It was also fun because all the three of us travelling together were practically unknown to each other, despite coming from the same nomadic workplace. After some delicious lunch, we realised that between the three of us, we had been kidnapped at knife point in New York, escaped from a burning building and fought for a certain mafia. It never ceases to amaze, the kind of interesting people you meet and how much more down to earth they seem, the more they have seen.

A further walk away from the old city revealed a wide waterfront that could be called an icefront with ducks and swans skating on it. Ships and boats steamed around purposefully with a modern city as the backdrop. A rather pompous looking hotel calling itself The Grand Palace stood ahead and we decided to keep its haughtiness in check by seeing what it was all about. Entered in with our backpacks and was looked up and down by the waiter inside who grudgingly gave us a seat and the menu to see if we would be frightened off by the prices. We almost did, but ordered a coffee and cake instead. It felt quite royally nice, I must admit, to be served food with silver cutlery and it was one of the best chocolate that I have tasted in a while. The fact that it came with hand made passion fruit icecream also helped.

I must say here, that every place - be it a restaurant, cafe or a museum, exuded its own personality and character. Be it radically interesting like the place built entirely with ice or the tallest hotel piercing the sky giving a bird's eye view of the city, each one was distinctly different. And the food, very flavorsome.

------------------------------------

Oh, and if you are wondering about the title - yes, I did spend the night in a prison cell. But it was one a few years back. Recently renovated, it is a backpacker's hostel now and offers an unbeatable, though admittedly spooky ambiance of a prison.

Vanilla Earth

It has been a whirlwind of colours. From the deep blue ocean to the burnt sienna of land.

And now white. Whiteness as far as the eyes can see. Whiter than the white in a soap advertisement. What was once water is glazed over like frosty glass. White mounds stand proudly like miniature mountains. The morning sun coddles the white, melting it into scoops of mushy vanilla icecream. I can see some of it dribbling off the chins of baby trees even. If only snow could come in butterscotch flavor.

Where the Gods once lived

There is a procession of royal elephants followed by the palanquin bearers as crowds throng the street. The princess sits inside, golden curtains drawn as the procession marches towards the temple amidst the deafening sound of conches and trumpets.

Five hundred years later, I walk through the same streets and enter the same doors of the temple. In hushed respect. At Hampi, what was once the bustling capital of Vijayanagara.

The entire town looks as if the Earth gave a little shrug, forming boulders. As if not satisfied with its result, it then sighed, coating the entire landscape with golden sandy dust. In this golden incompleteness of the ruins, lies some unformed beauty. Like an unfinished painting. Or a broken moon.

Walking amidst this terracota labyrinth, we stumbled into this building that I instantly fell in love with. With its wide freedom, simplicity and pride. Walking in, as sunlight beamed in crazy patterns, we were caught by the gentle breeze and we sat there for a while. To ponder. And wonder..

There was a central theme in all these buildings. Light. Peeping out through a window. Escaping into the blueness of the sky. Or simply forming patterns that fancies its mind.

And we watched as this light bowed and exited gracefully with a sparkling sienna sunset over this town that was.

Bars and Crosses

Literally speaking, my job does require me to go to a lot of obtuse places. But the Kumaran Nagar police station was something I hadn't quite bargained for. ' It is like going to just another Government building', I kept reassuring myself - like the RTO office, like the Passport office..as I entered into a police station for the first time ever. Sitting on a wobbly wooden bench, I surveyed the scene. It was exactly like how you would think a police station should be like. Yellow walls peeling themselves to the rhythm of creaking fans. A benevolent Gandhi smiling sideways at a spider sleeping in its web, while a board on top of his head does the talking for him. The board says something to the tune that the police station is a kind of temple. I wonder if that is an indication of justice or a hint to bring offerings for the deity. The crime chart spanning the last three years stands ominously while an A4 size printout jostling its elbow announces a happy new year to everybody. And just when I thought I was going to get bored, an old lady ran in wailing, her elbows scratched, saree torn and spectacles broken.

It should be mentioned here that I was the only one who sat up straight, giving her my full attention. Her arrival warranted a response that an ant would have got had it sneaked in through the same doorway. She started lamenting that her grandson was beating her up, threatening her to sell her house so that he could get some money. While my mind was whirring at the pathetic unfairness of her situation, a constable calmly came out and asked her if she wanted the police station to be shifted to her house, so that someone would always be there to give her protection in case anyone threatened her. But I must say the Inspector of the station was much more courteous. He asked her to sit down and rest for a few moments and then tell her story. I couldn't help beaming that there are, in fact, nice people in this much tainted picture drawn of the police.

And that is how Karuppayee * (ahem, name changed to protect identity) came to sit next to me as I started to concentrate extra specially on the crackling radio in front of me. Her manner seemed to have changed entirely now. She was calm, and if it doesn't sound ridiculous, even a little gleeful. She pointed into a room ahead and said that in there were three murderers behind bars.Now that she mentioned it, I remembered reading about the chase in the local papers. They had slashed the throats of an old couple and ran off with the money. I gulped, now steadfastly refusing to look into the room ahead as Karuppayee started getting into the details. ' They had jumped through a window, cold bloodedly taken a knife to their throat and sliced them like squealing hens' she said with the relish of a gossip monger biting into a juicy story.

Then she quietened as the Inspector went in, to take the three men out of the lockup for a court hearing. My curiosity got the better of me and I looked. They were not burly mustached men with a mole, but mere kids who would be barely eighteen! And cold blooded murder. Can anyone be pushed to murder for money, or should you possess the innate steeliness in your heart to take another life? Whatever it is, it takes a bit of the same steeliness to assault your own grandmother for the same money, I think, looking sideways at Karuppayee. The things people do for that thin paper note,you read volumes in newsprint and paperbacks. It is just a little hard to digest when you look at it in real life, that's all.

A monster, a volcano and a year ahead

Imagine being chased by a twelve-legged, green scaled, terrifying monster that seems to make the Earth shudder with every footstep it makes. And as you run away on your roller skates, feeling the mammoth breath down your neck, you encounter Mount Merapi spewing molten lava that flow towards you like red clawed fingers trying to burn you in its grasp. At a speed quicker than a normal monster or volcano can calculate, you dig a hole in the ground and you are extremely thankful that you decided to bring your scuba gear along despite sensible advice from your friends while embarking on the mountain expedition.

You don't need to be a graduate wizard from Hogwarts to realise that this was the after effect of reading up on volcanoes in the National Geographic magazine and watching Save the Planet on the tube. But during the time of the momentous escape from steely talons and being made into a human pancake, the feeling is quite real - the pounding of the heart and the liberating feeling of escape.

If I can be superhuman enough to escape unscathed and enjoy the warmth of sunshine with a hot cup of elaichi tea and my morning crossword - anything is possible.

Here's to a superhuman year ahead.