Run to the Hills

He squirmed in his seat as he kept sliding off while the bus rolled over little bumps on the asphalt. Outside the rain drops pattered lightly against the window, merged together with its buddy droplets and ran across the glass in a streak. As the bus moved towards the Kudremukh trek base camp he thought to himself "I hope these joints can still tolerate a 20km trek, otherwise I sacrificed a comfortable bed for nothing."

A small quake, which turned out to be just his friend shaking him awake announced their arrival to the homestay. He looked out into the semi dark dawn but only vague silhouettes were being imprinted on his retina and it took a minute for the rods and cones to work their magic and the view came into focus. In the distance he could now see the line of evergreens standing tall on the hilly terrain with their heads in the clouds. 

After a quick intake of nourishment for the tissues the trip to the coffee plantations on the banks of the Bhadra river began. For the first time he laid eyes on the green coffee beans in their infancy which would ripen and turn red in time and ultimately become part of someone's morning ritual. According to legends a seer Baba Budan smuggled in 7 coffee beans from Africa/Arabia (stories differ in place of origin) in 1670 CE and planted in his backyard which then spread out all over the state.

The muddy waters of the Bhadra rushed past the hanging bridge. It would go on to meet its brother Tunga from the same source (Gangamoola) in Koodli and become the Tungabhadra river, flow past the ruins of Vijaynagar empire in Hampi, meet the Krishna river and finally rest in the Bay of Bengal. According to myth, after killing Hiranakashyap, Viraha Swamy took rest on what is now Viraha Parvata. As he rested sweat rolled down his forehead - the one on the left became Tunga and the one on the right became Bhadra.

Moving on, a 2km trek brought him to Elneeru (tender coconut) falls. The gushing waters tested his muscle strength as the free fall of the water column terminated on his back and the sweet, cold waters tingled his senses.

A bon fire was lit in the evening and as is customary the trek lead Jolly started his horror story. 

Long before there was a national park here people lived in these forests. A couple was hiking in the woods and it had become dark. They saw a house up the road and went up to it to ask for shelter for the night. An old man came to the door with a lamp in his hand and welcomed them inside. The night was chilly and so the old man asked the guy to help him go out and gather some firewood. The house was quite isolated and so the guy told his wife to bolt the door and not open it for anyone other than him. While the guys were outside looking for branches she was lying on the bed listening to music on the radio. Suddenly she heard a knocking sound on the roof. She ignored it at first assuming it to be a cat or something. But the knocking slowly grew louder and more rhythmic. As she listened intently she slowly realised the knocking was in tune with the music being played on the radio! Her mind raced as she tried thinking of ways to react to this but her thoughts were interrupted by knocks on the front door. She hurried to the door expecting it to be her husband but it was someone else asking her to come out of the house. She was terrified and would not open the door. It was well over an hour when she was finally persuaded to open the door and come out. The stranger told her to follow him quickly and not look back but as she was running away she caught a glimpse of the house from the corner of her eye - as the clouds parted for a minute and flooded the roof with moonlight she could make out the silhouette of the old man on the roof with her husband's head in his hand and banging it against the roof!!

Alleged ruins of the aforementioned house on the trek trail

The next day was the day of reckoning as the group set out for the trek at 6:30am. They all reached the starting point by 8am and commenced the ascend. The first phase was through the forest region and soon he came across the first waterfall in a series of 6-7 waterfalls all through the trail. While he was able to keep his feet dry for the first couple of falls the third fall flooded his shoes. As he continued the ascend and turned a bend suddenly a mind-blowing view opened up in front of his eyes. Hills covered with shola-grassland mosaic with clouds floating on top was an exact replica of the Windows wallpaper.

The first resting point was at the 2nd Onti mara (lone tree). The national park boasts of Lion tailed Macaques and Malabar Loris but they never really popped up in sight. The tiny flowers of the Fabaceae  and Orchid family in yellow and purple were scattered across the slopes with tiny bees buzzing over them. He filled up his bottle at the last waterfall before the peak and drank the cold, sweet water as a reward of his efforts. Kudremukh means shaped like a horse but even from a distance it never really looked like a horse, quite like some of the constellations which pick a bare skeleton of stars and assign some intricate design such as Leo to it which is never really what would be your first guess. He reached the peak by 12:30 puffing and panting at the back of the group but with a sense of joy and achievement nonetheless. 

The descent turned out to be tricky with light drizzles making it slippery and the numerous leeches ready to hook on and suck you dry. As his feet throbbed in pain he was reminded of the foreboding at the beginning of his bus ride but he gritted his teeth, reminded himself of the fake Mind over Matter essays that he had written and trudged his way back with his mind flooded with the thought "Never again!". But the feeling was short lived and as soon as he was able to take a hot bath and gulp down a meal he was confident of making this the first of many!

A Patronus

There was a rumble in the sky as a dark pallor on the face of the sky floated in from the west. The faded blue hue was slowly being engulfed by the grey outlines of the incoming water saturated winds. The cool breeze soon picked up speed and started playing with unattended objects on the street. Bits of paper, loose bags and dust were mixed together into a mischievous concoction and designed into playful vortexes engulfing passer-bys with the glee of a child pranking his friends. Mothers and kids ran out to the roofs desperately trying to hold down the clothes put out to dry on the lines but the winds were unruly and snatched away a towel here, a shirt there and flew them like kites without a manja. The wind was however not done with its games and soon moved on to a new challenge and started trying to rip apart the plastic sheet roofs pinned down by bolts on a metal pipe. Nature has hardly ever been known for non-discrimination or a sense of mercy and like always the thatched roofs of the underlings were the first to be blown away.

Oblivious to the dark philosophical take on the situation, Rohan peeked out of the window grinning like he had won a year's supply of candy. He quickly ran out on the roof and leaned over the railing to watch the dust eddies on the road and was ecstatic to watch the clothes flying like kites. The clothes landed some distance away on the road and a few urchins picked it up and ran away. It was a Kal-baisakhi or a Nor'wester which he recalled from his geography lessons and it had totally brightened up his Sunday. He looked up at the sky and immediately sneezed. It always happened. Whenever he looked up at the sky he would sneeze - he had no idea why but he loved doing it.

The first few drops of rain hit him on the cheeks. The drops were really cold and it stung his face but the sensation was amazing. The feeling on his skin was akin to the taste of chilli on his tongue, only on a different sense organ. It soon started raining cold drops like pellets. Rohan crouched down near the roof boundary so that his back was protected but the drops hit his arms and legs from the front. He was shivering and hair on his hands stood on end as his body acclimatised to the cold. Rohan's head was clear of all thoughts solely focusing on the tingling nerves on his hands and feet spreading like electric! Sheer exhilaration! The corrugated asbestos on the edge of the roof was bent in the middle and all water rushed to the dip point and flew down like a waterfall and Rohan was soon running in and out of it. The small snails had come out of the soil in the pot with the bonsai banyan tree. They were slowly crawling out and some started climbing the agarbatti sticks in the soil - a remnant of the daily ritual where every evening Rohan's mom performed the evening puja or saanjh, waved an agarbatti in front of the bonsai banyan and tulsi tree praying to Vishnu and then planted the burning stick into the soil as the wafts of rose scented dhoop rose slowly and then dispersed into the heavens on its way to the Lord. Rohan was soon trying to race two snails, taking them out of the pot and placing them on the floor and making an imaginary start and finish line. Needless to say they both lost and never completed the race. 

Rohan's mom had finally removed all clothes from the line and closed all windows, some half broken and secured with strings and others covered with plastic where the glass had broken as it banged to and fro in the wind. She looked outside the window and saw Rohan out in the rain "Rohan come inside ..you will catch a cold...Rohan, Rohan..."

"...Rohan, Rohan..Hey dude where are you lost?" asked Asha shaking the 30 year old guy lost in his thoughts .." I asked you a question - if you were a wizard what would be your memory to conjure a Patronus?" "Do you know?"

A serene smile spread across Rohan's face as he stood next to the open window and drops of Mumbai rain hit him on his cheeks and he said in a soft voice "Yes. Yes I do"

Dream Diaries I

Well I decided that I usually like my dreams and would like to keep a log of the interesting ones so here goes.

Opening Scene:

The authorities waiting outside some kind of park with darkness falling thick and dark. Its time for the park to close but they have kept the gate half open because a couple is yet to return. The daughter is standing outside waiting for her parents to come back. She has blonde hair and has a pretty dress on. She looks worried and is explaining why she did not stick with her parents. I think I have seen her before but I dont really want to accept who she is. The forest rangers have their guns ready and are pointing it at the gate when they see two people emerge from the foliage and rush towards the gate. The parents are here but they are white as a sheet.

"We lost our way and couldn't find our way back to the road" blurted the Mom. The Mom had the same blonde hair as her daughter.

"How? Are you alright" the Girl ran out to meet them

 "We heard the closing gong and panicked and somehow wandered further into denser bushes. We screamed but it was muffled by the trees.....and then we saw it. There is something out there..something strange..it was very fast..it whizzed past but we could feel its stench as it flashed past us..it was no animal or man.."

"Thats all right. You need to rest. Let's go" the Dad comforted her and led them away from the gate. His jet black hair was in stark contrast to the other two family members. They silently walked away from the gate.

The gate closed.

Scene 2

"We must be careful. We will need to stick to the plan and find out whats in there"

I along with four other rangers went in on our bikes to investigate what the woman had encountered.

"Keep your eyes peeled and your dart guns ready". We slowly moved into the forest till all we could see around us were gnarled roots and trunks covered with moss and lichen. The air was dank with moisture and even the sound of our bikes were muffled.

All this while my vantage point were my eyes and I never saw my face or as a matter of fact the faces of my mates.

A sudden movement to our right as something rushed by.

"What was that? Lets move ...move into a slight clearing ahead"

As we formed a circle to cover all angles and stood back to back we held our breath and cocked our guns. And then I saw it clear as day as it whizzed in front of me. There was no doubt about it - it was a white tiger on a bike and moving fast. Its eyes were red and the black stripes were etched magnificently on its white coat.

I felt a swoosh as something slashed round my neck even as our darts missed the target and  hit the tree trunks. Blood splashed across my eyes and I saw the tiger get up on a moving open back truck with five heads in his claws, blood dripping through his paws and a menacing look in its scarlet eyes as it stared right at me.

My vantage point still remained over my shoulders, where my neck should have been.

More About Life and Shit

It started slowly.Like the rays of the sun slowly kissing the hem of darkness and slowly blending into the fabric of time and space to concoct a altogether new entity- a change, a change to which you are forced to adjust no matter what. Only its sometimes hard to tell the dawn from the dusk specially if you have not really been paying attention to what was that had you besieged in the prior space (or time, but then space and time are interchangeable as some wild haired German guy with his tongue sticking out, would have us believe or maybe I just got that wrong but being from an elite academic background or atleast believing that you do, has a compulsive character of forcing you into such statements and holding your ground defiantly).

But then where was I? Yes. It started slowly. Like the end of a tablecloth catching fire from the last embers of a burning cigarette placed there by a mindless idiot who cant hear the cotton cringe as it burned itself to death. Not many care for the cotton you know; it is one of those things that PETA doesnt cover cause it is not alive enough for them or for some other group of those famous-would-like-to get-naked-with-nice-body-paint-on-our-body groups to care about. Though I must tell you those PETA guys have some good photos in their gallery. I must remember to do something like that when I grow up. Grow up. Thats a good way of procrastinating things. Its a simple trick we learn as kids to dream of becoming drivers of UFOs and hoping to get there somehow in the end. Most end up as UFO's (Unidentified Fucked-up Objects) but then thats a close miss. And when I say I want to be like that when I grow up I dont mean like the models, no I have too much hair in the wrong places for that (and maybe I am missing some other nuances too), no I mean like I wanna become like Hugh Hefner. And damn that girl who refused to marry him in the end- she has got some balls!!(maybe the reason why she refused in the first place but on second thoughts we should have seen them in the earlier editions of Playboy but then there is photoshop too..you never know anything for sure these days).Its good to dream.It gives you a reason.
But then it all starts slowly; a flash to a conflagration, an egg to a dinosaur or an omlette(okay maybe the omlette isnt as big as a dino still it is bigger than the egg).
You just have to keep hoping that it is the dawn not the dusk-maybe hoodwinking yourself but then thats ok-its called Choice.
So there.
PS: If the above doesnt make much sense to the sane maybe it is not for them or maybe because there isnt any there but then thats open to debate. Your chalk may be my cheese. But then enough with the disputable choice of arrangement of words and sentences. Bonjour.(Incidentally a folder in most of your C:/Programs folder too, a mere passing thought , thats all). But then bonjour is Hello ,isnt it?, but maybe thats what I mean , I dint say Hello before ,did I?

IITB

Mumbai. My first love. You can call my school my first crush.After all that age is all about crushes, isnt it?The Campus - my very own Katrina Kaif. I specially loved the odd semesters. After a three month break I would be raring to go back to my own paradise. And the rains. I loved the rains. The first week of the semester- the cool wind blowing with a calm soothing touch to your face,the speakers filling up the room with the titillating tunes of "Nayan Tarse",a few drops of rain coming in from the windows-the whole blend gave me the high of a joint. No doubt I have abused the rains many a times for coming down the moment i stepped out for classes and drenching me to the bone but all that is easily forgotten and forgiven. Standing out in the wing allowing drops of cold water to to trickle down my face in thin streams brought an amazing calm to the mind, erasing all other thoughts. I never really grew tired of the incessent drizzle which often drove others nuts.(one of the reasons might be that I just stayed in my room or in the hostel enjoying the weather without having to worry about going out or anything - one of the many luxuries our dear old campus and iit curriculum allows us). I hope next weekend it will rain in mumbai when i am there.
Talking about the campus how can i not mention those awesome people who made life so much fun that just remembering their faces brings a stupid grin on my face. The campus is like a huge pot of khichdi with loads of vegetables and stuff; there are all kinds of genres of people available here, some to laugh at, some to laugh with and others for their own idiosyncracies. It is the people you get to laugh,live and learn with who really make life so freaking awesome. leaving them behind as life takes you apart is not the easiest thing to do for any of us. But the show goes on and you must come up with your philosophies to make all this bearable and even enjoyable. My own personal philosophy is - there will always be something worth to look forward to - u just have to look out for it. Moreover just knowing that these guys are out there and will never really forget you you feel more confident about going out and experiencing the new. Calling these people just friends doesnt really do justice to the nature of the relationship- they are more than just that -they are the makers of the best four years of my life and my greatest support.These are the people I have sat guffawing with in lectures, making lewd comments/jokes/cartoons and sharing every painful or weird thoughts with. These are the guys who know my strengths and weaknesses better than me myself and whom I adore more than anything. I could never really be sad with these guys around- the reason i could keep on smiling even during my valfi. See you all next week. :) tab tak ke liye izazat dijiye.

Munaf ka Bat

What is the deal with Munaf Patel's bat?Understandably his bat has no sponsor stickers on them but why does he walk out with a bare piece of wood without any kind of embellishment whatsoever? He is a world class player and one would expect that his bank balance would allow the lad to buy some branded bats like maybe kookaburra or atleast reebok- instead he walks in with a stick which perhaps his mom used to beat clothes with and gave it to the young turk when he made a ruckus for a bat at home.

Word List 40

This is a story with the forced usage of all the words in GMAT Wordlist 40! Because, why not.

The leaves quivered gently even as the cool redolent drafts caressed them with a motherly affection providing redress after the blazing heat of the noon. The ebbing slivers of light refracting from the broken pane adorned the refectory floor soothing the senses with its mildness- a pleasant respite from the reek of stale bread permeating the room. The refractory mouse scampered past the mouse-trap gingerly refraining from disturbing the week old piece of cheese. Outside, the tea-stall owner sat scrubbing his kettles in a desperate attempt to refurbish them to their once regal refulgent glory but the ebony of time hardly ever bows to the redundant acts of man; yet while hope remains man perseveres –that is his wont and his strength. Far off under the cool shade of the banyan sat the village bard regaling a throng of young urchins to a regimen of tales of regattas and regeneration and many a intriguing regicides of yore that he reminisced from his childhood. A rejuvenated expression illuminated his countenance even as he quelled an occasional rejoinder here and a quibble there and continued to enthrall his audience with lores of redoubtable wars and relegated kings. His repertoire with its myriad flavors evidently found great approval with his audience. Further down the shore two kids sat munching the remnants of their lunch-pack while the crows cawed in remonstration, seeking their fair share. Their remuneration came in the form of a hurled stone from the young lad. The calm was soon lost as trumpets rend the silence announcing the arrival of a procession of gaudily dressed revelers going to a marriage ceremony. A herd of cows joined the rendezvous from the side with their rendition of bovine emotions, reneging the revelers a passage to pass. A few renounced the road to escape the onslaught only to get rents in their garments from the roadside brambles. The angry demands of reparation from the revelers only drew a remorseless repartee from the cattle-driver. While the altercation continued people started to repine and long for the repast while others made a beeline for the nearby liquor store to replenish their supplies. Away from the melee, near the repository Aman sat poring over the newspaper. A surge of anger suffused through him as he went through the reprehensible and heinous acts of violence by the reprobate which had apparently drawn a strong and useless reprobation from the authorities. Repressing an overwhelming desire to tear the paper in two and cry out in repulsion and repugnance he reminded himself it was only a reprieve and he would be out of here in no time. But deep inside he knew there would be reprisals – they will requite this deed, they surely will. The cool redolent breeze still blew through the leaves but to his ears the sound was nothing more than a requiem. This was a lot more impactful when i thought it out- believe me.It is supposed to be the first chapter of a very serious book/movie.It is supposed to be philosophical and slowly coming to the topic which is much more severe than the frivolities described before.And the end is supposed to be ironic. Anyway....