The response to all those comments

Normally I save the serious shit for my other blogs and allow this one to be a canvas for some flippancy. My last post too was one such half-assed rant that I hoped disguised how passionately I really feel about several issues. It did, however, draw from my long-time sparring partners, comments that were longer than the post itself.

@Mohan: "All we need is the common sense to use the public transport." With all due respect, I believe that disseminating common sense to 6 million denizens is far tougher than raising a few taxes. But I do agree that without the Metro in operation, punishing car owners is a bit draconian.

@Shreeni: I'm sure you notice my change in stance from the times we used to discuss this issue in the 5th floor pantry. I'm suddenly all for Singapore-style despotic enforcement. The libertarian in me is still active when it comes to Censorship and Art, but he is well and truly dead when it concerns wealth distribution and traffic management.

@Sats: Just like you apologized for the NRI-snobbishness, I'm going to ask you to make allowance for my holier-than-thou preaching. I think every citizenry gets the government it deserves. We definitely deserve ours. I don't consider the government to be a separate creed of people that have nothing in common with us elites. We could stand on the sidelines and pretend that we have nothing to do with the uneducated, the disenfranchized, the corrupt, the indifferent, but let's get real. They ARE us. I know thousands of people who keep complaining about everything wrong in this country and pathetic few who can honestly say that they have used their 15-yr education or their relative enlightenment to influence anything. I am done waiting for the gory beast of a government to attain nirvana on its own to turn into a gentle genie who will repair all infrastructure. The "system" will transform if enough people ask for it. I have embraced the fact that the administration will not reach ideal state any time soon.

Here's what I was really addressing. Consider a man X driving a Toyota Innova and a man Y who travels in the city bus. I won't grudge the former his "success". Good for him and I hope he sees more of it. But consider that

* X uses a lot more of a public asset, the road, than Y.
* X pollutes a lot more of another oft-ignored public asset, the AIR! Tragedy of the commons?
* If there are 50 Xs and 50 Ys on the street (picture that , 50 Innovas and ONE bus!), it is fair to say that the Xs are responsible for the Ys spending a lot more time in traffic.


From Y's perspective, X is eating into his time, space and air. For me it seems like straightforward justice to make X pay for it. On the other hand in our system, X is more righteous and he feels he is not being served enough. By virtue of his "success" he also happens to be more influential. Which explains why the city administration is pandering to him by chopping all the trees and making the roads wider.

I could go on, but I think I'll save some material for my book.

We are screwed!

I heard some shocking official numbers. Bangalore's vehicular population is growing at 10%. I'll tell you what that means. Look at all the traffic around you. In 2016 you'll have double that. Take a good look at all the rain trees. They'll make way for broader roads. Worse, they will be replaced by the token Bougainvillea shrubs that the BBMP plants to maintain the statistics.

The trouble is I still don't see any measures to disincentivize private cars. Road taxes should be raised. Cribbers should be taxed again. There should be a special punishment for all ex-NRIs who drive alone in their Toyota Innovas that are substituting for the Honda Odysseys that they left behind in New Jersey. There should be ridiculous charges for parking anywhere in the city; even at office. Do something. Do ANYTHING. Save my city.

Urban Stampede (updated)

Photo: Gopal V

This weekend I ran at Urban Stampede race,a corporate 4x5km relay. The strongest memory from this event will be of a guy who registered himself as a team, ran all the four laps himself and still finished third. He made us look like fools, but he didn't stop us from having a lot of fun. I can't wait for the next edition. I'll update this post with our position and times as soon as I get to know it myself.

Update:
Team timing (20k): 1:42:51
My timing (5k): 26:17
Position (out of 95 teams): 13th

This also happens to be my 200th post. After 5 years of chronicling all my adventures, stories, upheavals, ramblings , blogging is neither a novelty nor a chore, it has become a way of life. I'm terribly embarrassed about things I wrote in the past and I know I'm going to be terribly embarrassed in future of the things I'm writing today. However, at least for now, I don't intend to stop.

Pet peeves of the week

* Songs in which short syllables get stretched to fit the melody. For eg "get your prescription filled" becomes "feeelled". Other examples include, well, EVERY song written by Alanis Morissette.

* People who don't dry their hands while getting out of the toilet, and leave behind a dripping wet door-knob.

* Moral bulldozing that dictates that you don't get to say anything good about Jinnah or anything bad about Gandhi
(and the other way around, I suspect, on that side of our border)

* Rajdeep Sardesai's high-pitched wailing.

Random updates

I have to report a personal milestone for me; I got garlanded for the first time in my life. This was at a function that the villagers arranged as part of a tree-plantation drive that we had organized in Rayappanahalli. I got served two sumptuous meals for digging exactly three pits. That fact made the garlands all the more embarrassing. That apart, I must say it's great fun to visit the village. The hospitality is really humbling. It was a pleasure to see last year's saplings take root and thrive although the prospects of this year's plantation looks rather bleak considering the sparse rains.

Here's another pet project that I've started (plagiarised shamelessly, I admit, from Phoebe Snetsinger); photographing 500 unique species of birds in the next 10 years.

I've wallowed on the peripheries of Praja for long now. Time to step it up a little. We have begun planning an event with the theme of Sustainable Transport. More details to follow, because we haven't done much more than talk at this moment. The planning nightouts have been super fun though (whenever it has not been eclipsed by beer) . We've scheduled this on Oct 24th to coincide with a mass movement planned by www.350.org.

I've been preparing for a 5 km corporate relay that is scheduled to take place next sunday, 22-Aug. I'm averaging 24:30 for 5 kms, and the rest of the team has been in that vicinity too. That should put us in the top 25 teams. It would be great to do better than that. Results coming up in a bit...

And finally, Happy independence day to all and happy 5th anniversary to my blog!

I hate goodbyes

The two cutest creatures on this side of the Atlantic are now on that side. And they leave behind half-empty cupboards, at least one swollen chest, a redundant portrait lens, orphaned cosmetics, three sheets of perforated paper that carry an indescribable innocence, a demotivated chef and a lot of momentousness. All the best folks! Let this be the start of something big.

Reading Lolita

I'm not going to write about Lolita, the novel. I'm going to write about the experience of reading Lolita.

Every page is a celebration. Yet, every paragraph is a hellish ethical ride. The prose is sublime, yet to acknowledge it feels like connivance in the narrator's outrages. In the first part of the book, when the narrator Humbert's thoughts are just that, it was easy to humour him. After all, you can't be too intolerant towards mere thoughtcrime. I can remember all the times in my life when I've had to conquer the thoughts that I couldn't help have. As the dude said, "If my thoughtdreams could be seen, they'd probably put my head in a guillotine". As long as the narrator only describes his thoughts I was an unqualified admirer of the grand prose that does so much justice to the madness of love, all the while making a grudging allowance for the depravity. In the middle of the book it got terribly confrontational. I couldn't laugh freely at the delightful humor. I couldn't laud the expression. I couldn't be unabashed about anything I liked about the narrative. Every bit of appreciation made me wonder if I was a partner in crime.

The place where I do most of my reading is in my office shuttle. Normally, I look forward to people peeping into my book and starting a conversation about it. While I was reading Lolita, however, I often curled the pages so that my neighbour had no chance of reading any full sentence. What if they thought I approved? What if they've not heard that Lolita is a classic? There was even a time when I folded the book in a hurry and put it in my bag because I suspected that the guy sitting next to me was reading it. There never is a boring moment while reading the book. The irony and the candor spawned off so much introspection around morals, censorship, love and the whole experience of being human. It was one of the most stimulating books I've read... And now I'm nervous that the reader will misconstrue the meaning of that last sentence. Ah well! That sums up the ethical tiptoeing that Lolita forces you to do!

Nandi hills revisited

At around this time last year I had visited Nandi hills with a few friends of mine. Appalled by the litter we found, we had vowed to influence the system to keep the place clean and green. In the process, I came in touch with a lot of people who shared this interest and what started was a citizen project to keep the hill tidy. After a burst of activity most of us had returned to dormancy. But last week, a bunch of us renewed our efforts. I'm chronicling those adventures in a separate blog that I maintain. It's most definitely been fun!

Juley!

This is my last post on the Lamayuru trek. This one is dedicated to the beautiful Ladakhi faces, with their cauterized crowfeet, that wished us "Juley!" like they knew us all their lives. I'd photograph them all if it wasn't disrespectful.

Ladakh- Birdlife

Despite the barrenness of the land and the lack of diversity in the flora around here, the bird life is remarkably varied. It was a little frustrating on two counts; firstly I could hardly identify any of the birds and secondly I never got the opportunity to stay in one place long enough to watch or photograph the really reclusive ones. Here are the bolder ones that I caught.


Chukar: Ever notice how bollywood heroes continue to run in a straight line on the main road while being chased in a vehicle? The chukar, a kind of snowcock, exhibits exactly that kind of stupidity. This one kept running on the path and allowed me to chase it for over 200 mts. As stupid as they are endearing!


Black Redstart: This one's a real beauty and seemed more than pleased to be photographed.



The Yellowbeaked Choughs seem extremely comfortable in the company of humans. They are amazing in flight. Hate it when people call them crows.


There were too many warblers and wagtails even to keep count of. Inskipp was inconclusive about this one. It's beak is too unsparrow-like.


Inskipp tells me this is a Citrine Wagtail, but I'm not willing to bet my life on it.


This is a Blue Whistling Thrush or a Bluheaded Rock Thrush, depending on who you ask.


..and finally, at every camp, we found at least one boisterous Magpie couple.

Someday I wouldn't mind returning here just to spend a couple of days doing nothing but bird-watching.

The people in the caravan

At Lamayuru, we also met the folks who were going to go with us on this trip; our guides, porters, horsemen and the cook. In this post I introduce the men who consistently bowled us over with their awesomeness.


Thandlay Dorjay, the closest I've seen anyone come to being a superhero. Watching him sprint down the gravel-covered mountains was the stuff of legends. This photo that you see is a remarkable feat because it was almost impossible for him to stay still. Even when we took a break to catch our breath, he would run up the smaller peaks and rearrange the buddhist flags that mountaineers leave in these parts. He kept running from the back of the queue to the front over and over again all the while singing some catchy bollywood number. As if the thin air wasn't a challenge enough, he smoked four packs. And he smiled non-stop all day.


(Junior) Dorjay: Here's another man who's incapable of looking clumsy. He would walk along with us during the difficult parts of the trek. During one particular treacherous climb, he carried three rucksacks. After the challenging part was done, he would start running so that he could set up the camp before we reached there.




Tundlup Bhai was almost invisible, but his contributions didn't go unnoticed. And his smile was particularly infectious.

Kumar Bhai: I admit that you can't really be objective while judging a cook on a trek because your appetite is perpetually stoked up. Still, by all standards, Kumar Bhai was a true magician. Whether he was making Thukpa or Upma, Parantha or Chowmein he was just stellar. On the last night, he even baked us a cake. Let me see you make me forget that!

Then there were the horsemen, Dorjay (another one!), Sandeep and Deepesh, who toiled in the background. We never really interacted with them too much, but can't take anything away from how much they added to our trip.

Lamayuru

Our base camp was a pretty little village called Lamayuru, known for its monastery. Here we got our first glimpse of the sights that would repeat over the rest of the journey. In the course of the next five days we were going to be bombarded with visuals that are otherworldly. For instance, the sand mountains that surround Lamayuru village resemble Hollywood's impression of a far away planet. A further distance away endless folds of mountains hold you captive with all the stories that they seem to be dying to tell; about the rivers that patiently but cruelly carved the gorges, the winds that eroded the soil, the ice that left the scars and above all the tectonic tortures that gave them their identities. The most striking aspect of the upper regions of the mountains is their lifelessness. The valleys, however, invariably cradle streams of different sizes mostly fed by distant glaciers. The water supports bright green vegetation that stands out in stark relief among the bald and brown mounds. I looked all around stowing away montages for later recollection.



The man-made structures are beautiful too. The buildings are nestled randomly but harmoniously on the contours of the hill. The settlements have grown unhurriedly in a quiet organic way. Their intention seems to be to coexist with the mountains not to conquer them. And they look as old as the mountains.

Our camp was very close to the monastery and we paid a visit. When we got out of there after a spell of intensely moving silence the sun was setting. The softening light made the terrain look a little more dramatic. Until dinner time I sat by myself on a hill just drinking it all in. Once I stepped out of the dining tent, the stars had come out in unabashed glory. Like so many other times in the day, it was difficult to stop staring.

Manali To Leh

When we started on the 500-km journey from Manali to Leh we had no idea that we were going to have more adventure on the journey than on the trek itself. Folks here have an extremely liberal definition for what constitutes a road. Can't really blame them because the elements are so cruel here. The first part of the journey was on one such poorly disguised road up the mountains to Rohtang pass which we navigated before sunrise. I've paid several dollars on fancy roller coasters and had much less fun on them than on the curves here. Tashi and Pooran, our nepali drivers, seemed at first to be insane to be driving so dangerously. At every turn I clenched my teeth, tightened my thighs, clasped my seat and curled my feet inside my shoes as if to prepare for an imminent slide downwards. After a few hours, though, I had numbed down and had in fact begun to appreciate the skill of the drivers. Yet, I distinctly remember thinking "what if.." several times. The awesome sunrise that lit up the peaks, however, made it all worth it.


After a refreshing breakfast at Keylong, we started again. The landscapes are stunning on this stretch. Most of us had our cameras sticking out of the window clicking in every direction. I vowed to come back here on this route on a motorbike some time in my life, because looking at these vistas through a window is not doing justice to them. At some point on the journey our collective exhaustion got the better of our wide-eyed wonder and most of us had dozed off. When we woke up, we realized that the Qualis wasn't behind us anymore.. On this stretch, at intervals of roughly 50-70 kms, there are tiny camps consisting of half a dozen parachute tents inhabited by tibetans who sell food and shelter to travelers. Sarchu is one such camp exactly midway between Manali and Leh. We were getting refreshed there when a Sardar came enquiring if we had companions traveling in a Qualis. He coolly informed us that it had toppled 20 kms away. It was hard to discern the meaning of his nonchalance; was he trying to reassure us, or was he hardened by the cruelties of this land? Chida and I immediately headed back in our Sumo. We reached there and realized that the Sardar's version was fairly accurate. Tashi had taken a sharp turn and had almost crashed into a rock that had fallen on the road in landslide. He had swerved sharply to avoid it, found himself driving towards the deep gorge that lined the road, had veered back towards the hillface and the vehicle had turned turtle in the process. When I saw the location of the accident I had a shiver run through my innards. I can't complain about our share of luck though; not one person was injured! The car didn't start, but between all the misfortunes that we could have possibly faced we gladly embraced this one. We left the car on a wide part of the road, came back to Sarchu and enjoyed hospitality that only tibetans can provide.


The next morning, Tashi had managed to coax the vehicle to life and we were on our way. What followed was my favorite part of the journey. Between Sarchu and Pang there lies a seemingly never-ending dust plateau that's lined by awesome mountains on all sides. The strangeness and the desolation of that 50km stretch can hardly be described. We stopped again for tea at Pang, and drove on continuously almost till Leh. Hot water baths and soft beds brought us tears of joy.


The return journey (after our trek that is) on this stretch was fascinating too. It was almost as long, except that this time our bodies were sore even before we boarded the cabs. Unexpected snowfall at Baralachla regaled us briefly but it was quickly back to the grind. To give you an example of how cruel these roads are, the Qualis we had hired lost its wheel alignment so bad that the vehicle kept curving to the right on its own. To add to the thrill, Sharmaji, our driver regularly opened the door to spit out his gutkha (which he explained he needed to eat because he hadn't brushed for 3 days). By the time we had reached Rohtang pass the tempers inside the vehicle were not amusing at all. If something can go wrong it will, right? The vehicle promptly got stuck in a slushy ditch and needed all of us and 4 drunk Sardars to lift it out. We reached Manali, once again, just before sunrise. We had been on the road almost continuously for 28 hours. This time just ARRIVING brought us tears.

Manali

Manali is a typical hill station. There are choodas wherever you look. There are also the fresh fruits. The lychees, for instance, are irresistible. As soon as we landed there C & I picked up a few kilos originally intended for the entire dozen of us. In the short ride to the hotel, between us, we had completely finished eating the pack.


From our guest house, we could see a nice little water fall cascading down a hill. We did a short two hour trek to the bottom of the falls. Some of us took bath there. In the evening we even made a little torch-light hike up a small hill and then stuffed ourselves with awesome paranthas. When I hit the sack I felt like I was at the end of a long distance flight; my tummy was uncomfortably full, my crapping cycles were awry and I felt like I had to catch up on a lot of sleep. The journey, however, had just begun. We had to make the really long journey from Manali to Leh in two vehicles- a Qualis and a Sumo- that were not designed for comfort at all.

Ladakh Trek

I flew to Delhi on the 20th, on my way to Ladakh for a trek that I have been planning for years now.

I've been mocked at and ridiculed for my paranoia about missing a flight, train or bus. I usually end up at the place at least an hour before most sane people would. Chida, who prides himself on not being like me in any respect, is on the other end of the spectrum and usually gets a kick out of sneaking in while the doors are being shut. He sniggers at my cautiousness. This time, though, he missed the flight and it cost him Rs.10,000 and his perceived upperhand against me. I've resolved to not make him forget this goof-up in a hurry.

Of all the rewards of a vacation, one of my favorites is forgetting the day of the week. I have just returned from such a time-warp, and I'm incapable of talking about my Ladakh trip as a chronologically ordered travelogue. So the next set of posts would be about all random things worth mentioning from the trek.

Tatguni

There's something transcendental about talking to SR. Yesterday she was telling me how she got a big-shot executive to dish out enough money to pay for uniforms for students in half a dozen rural schools. I asked her how she does it and she says "Men easily agree when they are asked by a beautiful single girl". Not an earth-shattering discovery for me but I marvel at the way she says it. There are no traces of hubris. She's not being coy, resigned, smug or smart-alecky. I had signed up to help her on a project that she's working tirelessly on. Apart from throwing my thoughts around I've done precious little. She summed it up "You get your kicks out of intellectual masturbation. You've got to start doing something". Once again, nothing that I didn't know before but she manages to say it without judgement. She's not being dismissive and she's not trying to provoke me. She seems to have embraced every little reality around her and that lends her an innocence that's rather amusing. And very refreshing.

I'm an atheist, and she has dedicated her life to the service of her Guru. At first sight, our personal philosophies have no common meeting ground. But whenever I meet her, I'm always left with a slightly altered world-view. This world can't be a bad place, because a person of her authenticity thrives here.

Too late to be pessimistic

A.T. gave me this incredibly simple piece of logic. Divide all the earth's resources- everything from energy, food, water, etc- and divide it by the human population. Of course, due to the enormity of the calculation, and the complexity of the parameters this is going to be conjecture. So fix your own baseline, even if it means eating 45 kilos of red meat every year and driving a hummer. Now, next year the denominator would have increased by quite a bit but the numerator wouldn't have. Stated another way, since the population has increased, your ration has reduced this year. What that means is that if you do not have a reduced footprint this year compared to the last one, you are not living it right! And yet, every definition of success in contemporary culture revolves around increasing your claims on this planet. Buy the SUV, get the dream home, fill your passport with visas, get a bigger paycheck. Once you've done all that, upgrade everything.

Pessimism is a safe place. Too often I've hid behind the excuse of the hopelessness of it all. After all, this requires not incremental changes but total upheavals of our core values. This week, I came across these two links (Paul Hawken's speech and Yann Arthus-Bertrand's TED talk), both from vastly different sources but both with the message "It's too late to be pessimistic". Let me start by acknowledging the people around me that have made the plunge into figuring out what else can replace the traditional success metrics. Pat on the back to the few others who are on the threshold. May your tribe increase. May your fire never die out.

The 6-AM-Wedding

Weddings were a lot of fun when we were kids. We have a huge extended family and these ceremonies were the best excuses for all the cousins and second cousins to meet each other. As we grew up, as an unfortunate offshoot of adulthood, each of us collected prejudices, snobbishness, judgements and biases and the set of people that we looked forward to meeting kept shrinking. Besides, as we inherited the responsibility for running a part of the show, these occasions became less about people and more about the rituals. You would have people running around in auto-pilot mode fixing details without a clue why they are doing it. One person panicking that there is not enough camphor, another distraught that the betel leaves are not folded the right way and a third giving the heavy metal band cues to play the right riffs. The rituals became so much larger than life that I've seen people in my family ostracize others due to disagreements over what ceremonies to follow.

Early today, I realized that I don't have a problem with rituals if people don't attach too much of a significance to them. Macha got married this morning. At 6:30 AM! That's when people are probably at their most benign. The rituals happened, but nobody seemed to have their tails on fire. Then there was Macha bringing his classy unperturbability to everything he does. It was a very pleasant wedding. Everybody should follow this template. Happy married life Macha!

Sunfeast 10k run - second edition

The weather was gorgeous this year. I knew the contours of the route really well. Knowing which parts slope up and which sections slope down, I had imagined, would help me pace myself better. I thought I even had practised better this time. Which is why I was a little disappointed that I ran only slightly better than last year - 53 minutes. I kept good pace till the 8th km, but the energy I had hoped would be there for the last burst didn't show up. The sense of accomplishment that I felt after the race last year was missing.

This morning, however, when I woke up, all the muscles in my lower body registered their protest in unison. You might see me grimace when I climb down the stairs today, but trust me I'm not complaining. I've never felt more alive.

When I take over the world there will be Civil Uniform Code

I am browsing for a new pair of jeans. After just a short search I find the perfect pair. Before I can complete my celebration, C stops me and tells me that they are out of fashion. I say "But hey, they are comfortable, they are not too expensive and the crotch has just the right roominess!" and he tells me "but they are so 80s". He is not the kinds who thinks about invisible consensus-building cultural forces that make you believe that bell-bottoms are cool today but inexcusable tomorrow. He will probably never provide me a scientific explanation for why one thing is more fashionable than the other but he is so smug and secure that he knows better.

In this blog I take a lot of digs at institutions, such as Religion and Patriotism, that coax you into blind conformance. Fashion can be a mean beast too. Over the years I have done a lot of thinking on the topic of why we are so judgemental about people based on what they are wearing. At one point I was convinced that black t-shirts and cargo pants are the only articles of outer clothing that I ever need. They cover enough of my skin to not hurt anybody's fragile sentiments and they are comfortable and maintenance free. And black is better than white because the dirt doesn't show. However, I know I will never be able to bring this homogeneity to my wardrobe without being socially ostracized. I set about figuring out why the world is so obsessed with what everybody else is wearing.

Fashion is a leftover instinct from the times when, as cavemen, we imitated the most successful individuals among us in the hope that we too could replicate their social and sexual accomplishments. This explains why in Victorian England women wanted to be like the fat noblewomen or fatter, and these days girls want to be like Princess Diana or thinner. I know I'm trivializing here, but that theory combined with the structured analysis of the memetics approach can explain a lot of our behavior. Economics has a huge role to play. Models, Marketers, Advertising professionals, investors, designers and entrepreneurs all have a vested interest in making the obsolescence cycles shorter and shorter so that you get tired of your clothes before you've washed them twice. Clothes of course are a way to advertize our pedigree too. I don't have feathers that I can unfurl, so I'll get myself an Armani suit. That will be the topic for another post. In this one, let me just fret about the impact.

If people didn't feel the pressure to wear different shoes for different occasions and carry different handbags with different clothes, a lot of cows, alligators and deer would be saved. We probably wouldn't have girls dying from anorexia, if we didn't overestimate the penalties of being fat. If we didn't stand exasperated in front of the wardrobe every morning and not think about how repetitive we've started to appear, a lot of time would definitely be saved. A lot of money, needless to say. A whole lot of pettiness too.

I think about how Gandhi wore the same dress whether he was meeting the queen in London or a villager in Champaran. He must have cared a rat's ass about what the other person was wearing too. That's my idea of freedom! That's where I'd like civilization to go. We've gone beyond and conquered several of our genetic predispositions and I'm sure at some point in the next million years we'll stop letting fashion dictate so much of our lives too.

Meanwhile, C is trying out a really trendy shirt. I ask him to take a picture and show it to his kid 15 yrs from now. In all likelihood she will say "What were you thinking?". She probably will start laughing too. I must be far ahead of my time, because I'm already doing that.

Pilgrim

After this weekend nobody has the right to question my secular credentials. It started off when my nephew asked me for a donation to his church. They've convinced the poor guy that there will be more peace in this world if they expand that particular building. I did send him on a little introspection about why religious folks do what they do. Since I'm against indoctrinating kids into any particular belief system, I stopped before his head got too muddled. I gave him a 100 and told him to buy ice cream. He got the hint.

For reasons that are too complicated to explain I visited a temple in Ulsoor. The only temple my family normally visits is the Shiva temple in Sadashivanagar on Shivaratri. That tradition began when I was a kid and my incentive to go there was that I got to see Dr.Rajkumar who visited the place, like clockwork, at exactly 7:30 on Shivaratri evening. Veerappan, old-age and eventually death caused him not to come anymore, but I don't have the heart to break our little family tradition.

Then we went to the Ulsoor Gurudwara. I love the sense of community that is so central to the Punjabi culture. The langar and seva are indescribably heart-warming, and their underlying principles might just be the formula that will save the human race.

I am secure in my atheism, but if there was a law that everybody had to pick a religion, mine would be Buddhism. The day wouldn't be complete without a trip to the Buddhist temple. I always knew of this unassuming buddhist place of worship near my house and yesterday was a good time to go there. Its a fascinating place. As A put it "I love places that make you shut up without anybody having to tell you to do it". The unhurriedness really lent some bizarre profoundness to the atmosphere. The rains lashed while we were inside and that made it even more surreal. If it wasn't for the noise of the traffic, this would be a great introspection sanctuary.

The mosque will have to wait till next weekend.

No more visits to the hospital please

There must be a name that psychologists give to this instinct that I'm going to describe. You know you have a fear, or hope, but you don't want to frame it in words lest you jinx it. Like saying it aloud gives it a reality that then awakens the evil prankster in Murphy or Gabriel or whoever it is that drives fate with a sense of humor. I know the feeling is irrational, so I'm going to say this loud. I don't want to visit hospitals anymore.

It all began with that well-documented completely unsavory trip to the hospital for my medical test. And now it seems I keep having reasons to go there over and over again. Last week, A had to spend a night because she had an attack of Hyperventilation Syndrome. The knowledge that I was the cause was especially onerous. Last night S-man occupied a bed at the hospital because the doctor suspected Typhoid. The dude is an ambassador of sorts for all things dionysian. To watch him lie wistfully there was very skippable. Bounce back bro.

Health to all. Amen.

Devarayandurga

S-di was the guest of honor this weekend and we decided to show her around this part of the world. Devarayanadurga was one of the chosen destinations. They say you don't discuss politics and religion with someone you just met, but that's exactly what we ended up doing on the drive. I had resisted talking about it till she unintentionally used Atheism and Anarchy in the same sentence almost implying that they were cause-and-effect. I'll come back to that in a while.

The weather was great at the top. We picked a random hill and decided to reach the top. We hadn't trekked more than a kilometer before we realized that it was a bad idea. The shrub jungle which we were drudging through was half burnt presumably in a recent wild fire. In no time, all of us looked like commandoes with black streaks all over our clothing. We chose to turn around.

Now, in these parts, every hill worth its bulge has a little temple on top and this one had a rather famous place of worship. Apparently, there was a special ceremony at 11 that day and a bunch of people had turned up from all over. It was bad news for us because our car was blocked by a dozen other cars and trucks all arranged in the kind of imaginative patterns that only divinity can explain. It was extremely frustrating to track down all the drivers in the crowd and carefully unravel the arrangement so that I could get my chariot out. It almost ruined the trip for us. The only saving grace was that we now know that not all anarchy is caused by atheism

Recession, Swine flu and other inconveniences

Both S and I are under mountains of debt and we have never been on more shaky professional ground, but yet I know, we both are looking at the recession and the swine flu and going "That might just be a good thing". The hamster was running so hard in the wheel that it was going to kill itself. Slowing the wheel down might just give the tired animal enough of chance to escape out without getting too hurt. Enough of the metaphor.

I believe that in our lifetimes materialism will become very uncool, probably even a taboo. Hoarding will too. I foresee my grandchild reading about Warren Buffett and asking "Really? Again, why did you guys celebrate him?". Changes like this work better when coerced by a benevolent dictator, but that can never happen at this stage in our civilization (and that's a good thing). Unfortunately, given our love of democracy and consensus, this change will happen when its rather late.

Lately I've surrounded myself with people who are considered freaks now, but I can see them clearly being the pioneers of a new set of socially enforced moral imperatives that will keep this planet usable for a few more generations. I've been influenced too. I've honestly stopped equating a comfortable life to a good life. I look at meat and I feel almost no temptation (I admit I still have a weakness for Koshy's beef burger). The other day my cab-mate was describing the new Honda Accord and I had zoned out. I almost felt a pity for him "The future will be hard on you, my friend". I cycle to work twice a week. I feel guilty almost every time I take my car out. My next vehicle will be on the other side of the oil economy upheaval.

And yet, I travel more than I should. In preparing for my retirement, I've contributed significantly to the real estate bubble. I still buy too many things that I don't need. I wrote this post on a piece of paper sitting at a coffee shop that sells at a ridiculous premium. When I pause my writing, I look at my Sheaffer admiringly. I have a long way to go.

Phish

While a good piece of music is growing on me, the events happening in my life at that time somehow get knitted with the notes. The association becomes so strong that years later the song summons, albeit in a subdued way, the same emotional experiences. "Coming back to Life" takes me to Pup's gravel-strewn parapet-less terrace and revives the idealism of four clueless souls. "When the Levee Breaks" invokes the drive to Pondicherry. "Where is My Mind?" reminds me of letting a best-friend go. "Why Georgia" is about Sequioa.

This last week I've been falling in love with Phish. The list of songs I like is really long but I'd have to pick "Taste", "Chalk Dust Torture" and "Prince Caspian". They're already one of my favorite bands. I'll seek out every album of theirs and wear them out. However, they will always be associated with an interminable bus journey and with letting people (and a cat) go. I know that their songs will make me intensely poignant, but never truly happy. That's the only shame.

Capt. Gopinath

I find door-to-door campaigning irritating. I hate the whole scam; the fake modesty, the circle of cronies, the paper handouts, those jingoistic promises, the khadi, and not least the look on the candidate that says "Look at me! I'm gracious enough to leave my crown at home". What irritates me most is that the candidates I have to choose from don't come close to representing me on any one of the issues that I care about.

Last evening, however, Capt. Gopinath dropped into our office like a waft of fresh air. He addressed us for an hour and narrated his progression from a serviceman to farmer to businessman and now to a politician. He had some fascinating stories to tell us. He gave us a fleeting glimpse of his beliefs too. I disagreed with him often. When he referred to India as a nation of "one billion consumers", I cringed and realized how far left I've ended up in my ideology. I cringed again when he referred to how we was inspired by China's model of development. In his defense, he quickly clarified that he does not condone the curbs on liberties. But mostly I agreed with him. That's not the point though. The encouraging bit was that throughout the hour he spoke my language.

It's a pity that he is not in my constituency. My instincts tell me he's going to lose in Bangalore South. That might still be the start of something.

Gokarna

Have you heard people look at a breathtaking landscape and say "The Government should develop tourism here"? (You'll have a better chance of hearing that if you take a fresh NRI to that place). That's the kind of philosophy that takes a beautiful, bio-diverse, rich vista and converts it into a mall! If you don't know what I mean, you've never been to Manali or Goa. Some of my favorite places in my home state are those that are really difficult to get to and ones that you'll never hear of in a tour guide. For all those who say that beauty should be shared, I say "buzz off!". Maybe, developing tourism fuels the economy, but it also excuses raping a land without paying the ecological costs.

Let me get to the point now. I like Gokarna. I like it that there were so few people there. I like it that we virtually owned the beach. I like it that it's not as tourist-friendly as Goa. Or was it just the 'wrong' time of the year? Whatever the reason was, it was one hell of a weekend.

Bellary Trip

It's too soon for me to talk about Prof. Trilochan Shastry without appearing star-struck. Prof is behind the Association for Democratic Reforms and National Election Watch. I had the privilege to travel with him to Bellary on one of his campaigns to snap people out of their cynicism. This trip had been born out of a request to the prof to do something about the craziness in Bellary. For the uninitiated, Bellary has recently become the epicenter of politics in Karnataka. The money from the mines, it is universally known, routinely makes a marketplace out of the votes.

Before we landed there, prof had managed to reach out to NGOs working in the district, irrespective of whether they worked on Electoral reforms or not. When we got there, there was a healthy gathering that had congregated in the Gandhi Bhavan. What followed next was a master class in how to influence people. While the meeting had begun in an atmosphere of dispassion, by the end of the session, there was an ad-hoc committee formed that couldn't wait to get on the ground to spread awareness about the dangers of selling votes.

We spent the rest of the afternoon in the sterilized cocoons of various civil servants; election observers, the superintendent of police et al. There came my lesson 2. Irrespective of whether the audience was patronizing, indifferent, non-committal or even uninterested; nothing but nothing seemed to bother prof S. It was fascinating to see such unblemished single mindedness. All that despite the knowledge that the results his labour won't show for another decade or so.

I must have learnt something every minute of this trip. I remembered what Santayana said about escaping "into the moral holiday of running some pure hazard, in order to sharpen the edge of life, to taste hardship, and to be compelled to work desperately for a moment at no matter what.". I realized that travel is about knowing my world a little better and in the process knowing a bit more about myself.

My tales of Bellary won't make people jealous. Bellary was never on any of my 'Things to do before I ...' lists. Bellary does not boast the manicured landscapes or the sanitized locales that we love to photograph against. Bellary won't figure in any formula-traveler's almanac. It's no surprise, though, that my trip to Bellary last Sunday is probably my favorite ever

Cholesterol

Of all the things that could have gone wrong in my annual health report, my lipid profile was the last suspect. On a scale of 1-10, 1 being "coat-hanger" and 10 a "binge-eating walrus", my build has been consistently categorized as 1.7 "Scarecrow". Yet when I visited my doctor to collect my report he gave me that ugly look. Like my arteries are crude oil pipelines. Like there's probably enough fat in there to make two bars of soap. He assumed a haughty look and said "Without even asking you, I can tell you that you don't do any exercise". That's not the first time I've been picked on by a doctor, but coming as it did on a week in which I had played Basketball, Badminton, and football, had cycled to office twice and done a bit of rock-climbing, I had no option but to politely ask him to take back his words and put it in another place. He clarified that he has nothing personal against me but 240 is tad too high. I have no idea what that number meant at that time, but I was pretty disillusioned.

Life has changed significantly. I am avoiding beer. I close my eyes and turn the rosary beads vigorously when I smell menasinakaayi bajji. But not everything has been bad. I have an excuse not to eat out. My knowledge of wines has expanded and French fries tempt me no more. The best outcome, though, has been that I feel really guilty when I haven't exercised at all in a day. It's an awesome pressure to have.

Trip to Saragur

This is from our day trip to Saragur. It had everything. People that have stepped off the regular treadmills. Landscapes that are untouched by any pretensions. The satisfaction of learning things that no book or picture can ever teach. The slowing of time. Ferment. Joy.
The full report here. Mine to follow.