Mumbai Chi Mulgi

On looking back....

2011-03-03T19:37:00.003+05:30

It's a year now since I've moved out of Mumbai and how time flies!! As I look back on the year gone by I can't help but think about the many changes it has brought in my life. I look back and find myself nostalgic about the many things I miss about being away from my hometown.

Needless to say I miss my family. (Skype's a boon and I can see them when I want to. Sometimes though, I wish they were just a drive away)
I miss my budgies. (They live with my parents now and although I get to see them when I visit Mumbai I miss their constant, mindless chirping. I miss watching them tend to their fledglings and I miss watching the baby birds grow.)
I miss the stray dogs on the Mumbai streets and I miss feeding them. I actually miss them barking into the night; sometimes it was comforting to know that they patrolled the streets and would raise an alarm at the slightest suspicion.At the same time, here I love watching people walk their dogs. And I love how well behaved their pets are on the road and in the park, in restaurants and in trains & buses. I'm amused by the little chihuahuas being carried around in purses as much by the huge and gentle newfoundland's friendly demeanor.
I miss Kelly, my baby turtle. (I had to give her away and it hurts that I'll probably never see her again or even know how she's doing.)
I miss my friends and sometimes I feel like I'm losing touch with them. (Sometimes it's the distance and sometimes it's just the pace of life. Sometimes we're just too lazy to drop a line or send a text message.My trips back home seem too short to meet everybody...some friends understand and others don't. I wish there weren't misunderstandings and that good friends wouldn't drift apart.)
I miss the Mumbai monsoon and walking in the rain (it rains all the time here but it's too cold to walk in the rain). Nothing beats the good 'ol vada pav and rastewali cutting chai in the rain. And, I miss the spicy Manchow soup and the garam, roasted butta (corn). I miss the mochi who repairs my umbrella each year when the monsoon wind puts it to the rest. (We have a few broken umbrellas at home now and they lie in the junk section of the basement as there's no one here to fix them.) I miss the puddles of water ( I know you're going to say it's dirty!) and the school children sailing little paper boats in it. I miss the day off work in the middle of the week because the city turns into one big river on a few days every monsoon.
I miss the warm weather and the summer clothes. It rains incessantly in The Netherlands. It is perpetually cold, windy and the sunshine is a fortnightly affair.Summer seems all of ten days long.
I miss work! I'm learning the local language and hope to find a job again someday soon. Never thought I'd miss the client meetings, the travel, the assignments, the deadlines, painful feet after 9 long hours of standing in a classroom training, last minute stationery requests and printing........Well...looks like I do.
I miss the entertaining strangers' conversations that you hear by chance as you travel in local trains and buses or when you sit at a restaurant or walk through a busy market. Here, most conversations around me seem like Greek and Latin....errrr....well..Dutch. A fews words here and there make sense but nothing engages me. I'd rather walk quietly with my own thoughts and with either my camera or my music for company.

I sound like I'm complaining and I probably am. But nostalgia clears away like clouds on a sunny day. I still do wish that friends would keep in touch and that the Dutch would hire an English speaking professional(who is trying hard to learn their language). And for all the fuss about the weather and how I miss the deadlines at work, I still love my life here.

No escape

2010-11-22T20:23:00.001+05:30

Cracks and Crevices

Know not what lurks inside(or do I)

I turn a blind eye

I try to hide

It follows me and seeks me

And threatens to swallow me

Sticky and dark, secrets it holds

Give me just your ear

I ask not for more

I look within for courage

for things I have to face

A sigh, a shudder

Not today, I still need to run

Once upon a Khari

2010-05-06T11:57:00.015+05:30

While I'm waiting for my visa in Mumbai, my Mom seized the opportunity to get me to clean my shelves. As I reluctantly threw away old newspaper and magazine cuttings, tore old notebooks and diaries I found a very old notebook I used to maintain ten years ago. It was around the time I wrote for Free Press Journal and The Times of India. Many a times I'd scribble my articles in the notebook before typing them out and mailing them to the Editor. Most of them were published. Some of them were never sent to the newspapers.
My family, for most of my school and college going years, consisted of my grandparents and the numerous animals that had made our house their home. Most were rescued and lived with us until they recovered. Some of the rescued animals and birds continued to live with us for the rest of their lives. We tried releasing every single one of them after they got better but sometimes it didn't work.
As I flipped through the pages of the old notebook I found something I'd written and forgotten about. I probably intended to mail this one to Reader's Digest but for some reason never got down to doing it.
I'm going to put it on my blog because I think it's a story that deserves to be heard/read.

Here goes:

19th August 2000

Khari died today and it feels like a part of my family is gone.

Khari was a part of my family and as I write about her I know my words won't do justice to my memories of her. I can clearly remember the day I found her 5 years ago on a June afternoon. Helpless and tiny, a scared little fury creature that happily nestled in the palm of my hand for warmth and protection. I held the little squirrel close to my body and got her home in a BEST bus on my way back from college. Through the journey she made herself comfortable against my clothes and fell asleep.
Back home nobody was as surprised to see a baby squirrel because I always brought home injured birds and animals that needed tending. I was worried that my Mom/Grand Mom would be angry but one look at the baby squirrel and she'd already won a place in their hearts and in our house.
A squirrel in Marathi is called 'Khar' and since we hadn't thought of a name for her I referred to her as Khari. By the time I thought of a name for her we were so used to calling her Khari, that the name stuck on.
For the first few weeks, since she was too small to eat, we fed her milk with an ink dropper. Soon Khari was eating everything from varan bhat, which we fed her one tiny morsel of rice at a time, to fruits and her favourite - dry fruits. She'd hold little pieces of cashew nuts or almonds in her little hands and munch away.
As she got older, Khari got naughtier. She would run all over the house, climb curtains, crawl inside pillow covers, chase her own tail in circles!! She'd decided that socks were the perfect material for a cosy bed and would crawl inside my sock at night. My grandfather made her a little wooden box with a small circular entrance(like a bird box) and attached it inside a cage he made for her. We usually kept the cage open all day to allow her to move freely in the house and the terrace. At night we locked the cage door for her own safety. Snakes, rats and cats were very common around our house.
Khari readily accepted the box for her home and carried her bed(my sock) with her into the box.
Now she set upon herself the task of making her home cosier and began tearing little shreds off pillow covers, curtains, my grandfather's shirts and would scurry with them in her mouth. She would playfully tug at my grandmother's saree pallu and try to carry the whole thing back to her box. What a comical sight that was!!!
It was now time to keep Khari off limits from the bedrooms. I hoped to set her free and wondered if she could fend for herself or was she too tame to fear other humans who were a potential danger to her. We placed her cage in the balcony and left the door open all day. Khari didn't venture too far from her box. She would spend the day running about the terrace, climbing the potted plants and then retiring to the safely of her cage every evening.
Khari never outgrew milk and waited each morning for her little bowl. While my grandparents sat in the balcony and sipped on their tea, Khari licked her bowl of milk. She also relished chocolates(especially M & Ms and chocochips) and would lick her tiny fingers clean after a chocolate treat.
Gujarati Ganthias were her favourite and I'd insist that she shouldn't be fed with too many of those since she was already sporting a pot belly.
Khari loved having her head and back stroked and when I rubbed behind her little ears she'd stretch out with ecstasy.
Although she had a lot of opportunities to return to the wild, Khari never wandered away from home. Over the months and the years that followed our attachment for her grew. When you watch an animal grow and tend to it like it were your own baby you feel a sense of pride, fulfillment and satisfaction at giving it a good life.
Pets don't last your lifetime and you usually outlive them. You feel the pleasure when they're a part of your life and the terrible pain that stays for a long time after they pass away.
I know a lot of people who despite their love for animals don't want to keep a pet because the attachment is so much that dealing with their death is unbearable. Pets become like family members.
I think differently. It's true what they say about love(even in the case of a pet); it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
Five years and two months from the time I found little Khari, she passed away quietly and suddenly without a warning. We shared an apple one afternoon and then I decided to read a book. I dozed off reading and when I woke up it was time for Khari's evening snack. As i reached her cage with some peanuts I saw Khari lying still on the floor of her cage. Khari hadn't suffered and was fortunately in good health until the end. She was just as playful and naughty as she was when she was a baby.
We buried her in our backyard and through my tears I thought about all my best memories of Khari.
As I write this I hope Khari lives on not just in my memory but also in the memories of people who read about her.

Welkom lente!!!

2010-03-18T14:57:00.008+05:30

Yesterday was Gudi Padwa, the first day of the Hindu calendar month of Chaitra. The festival heralds the beginning of Vasant Rutu or spring.
On a long walk yesterday through Eindhoven I noticed that spring was slowly drawing her curtains with coy bursts of purple, white and yellow lilies on lawn carpets and in gardens all over the city. Wood pigeons and turtle doves were cooing with delight and the numerous ducks and coots were sitting on the banks of the Dommel sunning themselves.
The weather is now turning warmer, the sights greener and suddenly people seem to be crawling out on the streets like insects crawling out of the woodwork after a good fumigation turning otherwise deserted afternoon streets abuzz with activity.
It was 15 degrees today in Eindhoven, the warmest day so far since I've moved here and I couldn't let such a sunny day pass without stepping outdoors.
While our basil and daffodils sunned themselves in our balcony and the mushrooms sweated over a warm bed of sauteed onions and garlic I wore my walking shoes and stepped out in the sun.
Dressed in my new skin(I traded my thermals & woolen jacket for a plain T-shirt & Jeans) I walked to the Philips Jongh park which is a 30 minute walk from home. I wasn't the only one with that plan. I crossed lovers on the park bench, old ladies with their terriers, the mommies with their children and old men in wheelchairs. Many dog owners with their pooches of myriad breeds played on the lawn. The dogs seemed to have caught a whiff of the change in weather and today they seemed a little more boisterous than usual.
I walked around for almost two hours listening to the birds, smelling the air, treading softly on the long-dead maple leaves under huge trees that wore the promise of their replacement.
Finally I decided to sit down on a park bench for just a while penning my thoughts before walking back home and in my very limited Dutch scribbled on a note pad 'Welkom lente'.
(Written yesterday sitting on a park bench at the Philips Jongh Park, Eindhoven)

My metamorphosis

2010-02-16T17:44:00.015+05:30

It's official....I've undergone a metamorphosis of sorts!! I've gone from Miss to Missus and from Corporate trainer to Housewife!! And, I've flown half way across the globe to live in Holland with my better half.

I've transitioned from my trainer checklists to a Saturday market vegetable list, and client meetings and conference calls are now a thing of the past. I now find myself scheduling video chat sessions with my family on Skype instead.

I don't trek into the Sahyadris every weekend and what's more...I live in a country that's as flat as a pancake and mostly under sea level.

I don't hail an auto rickshaw every time I need to go to either the market or to shop, to the movies or for a drink...I hop on to my bicycle instead. Bicycles aren't those silly two-wheelers that wouldn't get a second glance from me anymore....a lot of them get a second glance and some even a stare!! Bicycles with baskets, bags, baby strollers and seats carry people, their friends, their children, their pets, their shopping. You see bicycles in all colours, shapes and sizes!!! Bicycles for the midget, the seven-footer, the eighty-year-old, the six-year-old, the quirky, the insane...you see them here.

I don't have a maid to cook, clean and make my bed. And there's no dhobi to iron my clothes. I've learnt to enjoy food I've cooked myself and to preferably wear clothes that don't need ironing( yes.....i'm super lazy and I actually do that!!).

Moving has made a big difference gastronomically too. My love for food has ensured that I miss my chatwala bhaiya and my vada pav corner, my tapri chai and chinese dosa, but it has also opened a whole new food window for me from the Turkish doner to the Dutch erwtensoep, from the Greek mousakas to the Indonesian rijsttafel.

My life's undergone a metamorphosis and it would be fair that my blog undergoes a metamorphosis of its own.
I spent some time thinking about possibility of starting a new blog with a new name but realised that somewhere deep down I'll always be a 'Mumbai Chi Mulgi'. So, despite all the change in my life and possibly newer arenas to explore with my blog, I have decided to continue to write right here!!!

Words

2009-10-20T16:41:00.009+05:30

I rummaged through the shelves in my room today, looking for nothing in particular. Sometimes mindless activities can be quite therapeutic on days when your brain is working overtime on myriad thoughts that your mind can't cope with.

I found a whole bunch of old, useless things still lying on my shelf when they should have made their way into the dustbin years ago...an old, broken mouse, old visiting cards, a plastic bull(toy), cut-out articles from newspapers and magazines and a very old diary.

I let most of the things stay where I found them(I plan to clean my shelf and deal with them soon) and crawled into bed with my old diary. I'd forgotten its existence and as I flipped through the yellowed pages, I found myself smiling....the diary dated back to 1993 to a time when I regularly maintained a dairy and penned my thoughts before going to bed everyday....My diary was my confidant, and to it I would narrate stories about crushes and heartaches, disappointments and joy...all the little things on a 15 year old's mind. The diary was witness to the many poems I wrote about life, pets, friends....poems that I never shared with anyone barring my grandmother who patiently listened to every single one of them.

On 1st Dec '93, in a very pensive mood, I penned a poem I called 'Words'. Here it is...

Think before you say something

Think before you say anything

'cause the time can arise when you'll regret

your thoughtless words that made you lose a friend.

Words are powerful, words are strong.

They can build a wall, they can tear it down.

They can make you cry, they can make you smile.

They can build a bond, they can create a fight.

Careless words may wound the heart,

so every word must be given a thought.

A wound in the heart only words can heal.

So remember, words are a big deal!!

Choose your words with great choice

They will give you poise in life.

Chicken Sanju Baba on my mind!!!!

2009-09-13T15:42:00.006+05:30

Every year for the last 4 years we have visited the Mohammad Ali Road on one of the Saturdays during the Ramzan month. Come evening the street is abuzz with activity. Men, Women and Children dressed in all their finery take to the street to break their day-long fast. It difficult to walk on the footpaths as they are converted into extended sit-outs for the many restaurants. Some restaurants even have dinner tables and chairs laid out on the street. There is chaos- cars, bikers, blaring horns, crowds of people pushing you around, beggars grabbing you by the arm and asking for alms, hawkers and vendors yelling and selling their wares. Every year I tell myself that this is the last year I'll put myself through the torture of finding my way through the throngs of people. So many people, in such close proximity, packed like sardines makes me very uncomfortable.

Yet, it's worth it and every year I find myself going back again!!!

Noor Mohammadi is a well known restaurant on Mohammad Ali Road and well over a hundred years old. The food there is to die for!!!!! The lip-smacking Nalli Nihari, the Chicken Hakimi and the Chicken Sanju Baba leaves me licking my greasy fingertips even I've stuffed myself to the brim.

Here I am trying to get some office work done on a Sunday afternoon and my insatiable mind can't stop thinking about last night's dinner at Noor Mohammadi. I plan to visit again next week and until then I guess watching them make the famous dish on Video 18 will have to do.

http://ibnlive.in.com/videos/46388/digest-this-mumbai-laps-up-chicken-sanju-baba.html

A Psalm of Life -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

2009-09-11T23:51:00.004+05:30

I was browsing the Internet for something else and I chanced upon what used to be(and still is) one of my favourite poems while I was a student.

We used to have oral exams for English Poetry back in school. The teacher would pick a few poems that all students had to learn by heart. On the day of the exams, your luck and the little chit of paper you picked would decide which poem you would have to recite in front of the entire class.

We studied Wordsworth, Blake, Frost, Tennyson, Shakespeare, Longfellow....

Of all the poems I've memorised some poems have stayed with me forever.

This is one of them....

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,--act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

Incy Wincy's BIG catch!!!

2009-08-20T14:28:00.012+05:30

Vincent the spider was very popular in the spider clan of Dolvi Forest. He could spin the largest and strongest of webs and capture the largest of the butterflies. His friends envied him, the lady spiders adored him and his Momma was proud of him. The butterflies and honeybees would often hold secret meetings and in these meetings they'd discuss for long hours Vincent's whereabouts and the various routes to avoid being caught in his web. Vincent was a terror in their world and his web spelt doom.

As a little spider his proud mother would often exclaim, "My Wincy's going to make it really big some day and go where no spider has been before!!!'. The older Wincy was, the smarter he got and nobody knows who started it, but soon our little Wincy was known to all as Invincible Wincy. No other spider that they'd seen or heard of could create such an intricate web. Wincy could capture a variety of bees, flies, moths and butterflies; all in a single day's work. And on such a day he'd wrap the goodies in the most beautiful silken web and present them to the pretty spider ladies in the clan. Incy Wincy was the most eligible bachelor in Dolvi Forest.

One sunny day a strange old spider walked into their forest. He was bedraggled, weary and lame and hobbled along on the six legs he had. Two of his limbs were missing and everybody was keen to know his story. After supper consisting moth legs and bee stings the spider family crowded around the old spider "Tell us your story..pretty please. We'd love to know of all the places you've seen." The old spider found himself a comfortable nook and soon told them story after story about all his adventures. "I'll save the best for last", he said. Before they realised it hours had passed and suddenly the old spider sprung up; his weary eyes lit up and he said, "It's time....it's time I told you about the other side of the forest." None of the spiders; not even Wincy, had ventured that far. This was a tale they didn't want to miss.

" At the other end of the woods, past the banyan trees, the little stream and the paddy fields is a very strange land. I've seen the strangest and largest looking creatures roam there. They seem stupid despite their size and are usually terrified when they see one of our kind. One afternoon, as I caught a nap in a tree, a strong wind blew me off my seat. Off the tree I fell and landed on one of these creatures. He was a thousand times bigger and stronger than I was and I feared my life initially. Although a little scared, I decided to put up a brave front. As I marched down his hand he saw me, and to my surprise let out the loudest scream, brushed me off his hand and ran away. I fell to the ground and the impact of his hand brushing me off broke a couple of my legs. I never saw him again. I spent a few weeks nursing my wounds and during my stay there I chanced upon many others of his kind. Sometimes they walked through my web but every encounter that I had with them confirmed the fact that they were scared of spiders."

He sighed and took a deep breath. "I'm sure if we plan and work together we can catch one of the big creatures in our web. They definitely seem to be better prey than moths. Just one of them would last the entire clan for a whole year!!!" He stood up and walked around. "That's what brings me here. Let's plan over the next few weeks and then go for the BIG catch!!!".

It was way past their bedtime and the old spider let out a long yawn. "We'll talk about it in the morning. Now, I must get some sleep."

After all the spiders had gone to bed, Incy Wincy, who in all the excitement wasn't able to sleep at all, got dressed for work. His exploits had made him bold. A few weeks seemed like a long time to wait for an adventure like this one. It was no news that his webs were the best and the strongest by far. He didn't need a plan. He didn't need anybody's help. Off he set to bring back the BIG catch!!

He travelled to the edge of the forest and waited to spot the big creatures. He didn't have to wait long. There were so many of them. And they were BIG!! He found the right spot and worked on the web for days. Never before had he built such a web. The thread was strong and no creature he'd ever known could break free. After days of hard work the trap was ready and Incy Wincy waited with baited breath for a big creature to wander past.

On the other side of the forest was the Dolvi Village which was home to many village folk and also housed a huge irom and steel plant. It was lunch time at the Steel Plant and the cafeteria was crowded as usual. Madhukar preferred to carry his own food rather than wait in long queues at the cafeteria to be served lunch. Besides he had also put on a lot of weight and needed some exercise. He would quickly eat his lunch and then step out for a small walk everyday. The fresh air would clear his mind and energise him. Today was no different. Madhu, as he was fondly called by all folks who knew him well, decided to step out of the Factory premises and walk towards the paddy fields that grew just outside the factory wall. It was a beautiful day and myriad flowers in yellow, blue and pink had bloomed along the road side and along the border of the field. Birds could be heard singing in the trees and pretty butterflies flitted from one bloom to another. Soon, Madhu forgot about work and started walking along the path near the field.

Madhu had always loved nature. He walked gently along the path and admired the butterflies. He didn't want to get too close and disturb them and yet get close enough to observe the pretty paterns on their wings. As his walked along he accidentally walked into a spider's web. Now, Madhu would never want to disturb nature and he felt quite regretful about walking into and destroying the spider's web. He wasn't sure what had happened of the spider that was probably in the web and so Madhu stood still. He didn't want to accidentally step on the little insect.

Incy Wincy had waited patiently for the right moment and here it was. This creature was even bigger than the others he's seen of his kind. Here was a chance he wasn't going to miss. He was going to make everybody proud. The creature stopped and looked at flowers and butterflies. For a creature of such might, catching butterflies should have been a very simple task but this creature seemed to walk after them awkwardly not knowing what to do. As the creature approached the web Incy Wincy sprung into action. He dropped the web on the creature and then pounced on it himself continuously spinning and wrapping the creature in his yarn. The creature seemed to stop moving. The web was working!! Incy Wincy was ecstatic!!! His plan had worked. He had caught the BIGGEST catch ever in history!!!!!! How he was going to kill it and how he was going to take it home to his family he didn't know. This was a moment he hoped they all had seen. Maybe, just this time, it made sense to let the prey go. He would wait for the rest of the clan to arrive and make another web in the mean time. The next time with his troops with him they could definitely carry their BIG catch back home. With a sigh, Incy Wincy swung off the creature.

Madhu felt the spider crawl down his face. He didn't want to flick it off and hurt it so he decided to wait and watch. A little creature like this one could do him no harm!! The spider lingered on his hand for a bit and then swung itself off on its web. The lunch break was almost over. It was time to go back to work. Madhu turned around and walked back over the path into the Factory compound.

Soon news spread. Incy Wincy had done it again!!!! He'd managed to ensnarl one of the Big creatures in his web!! His proud Momma said, "See, didn't I always tell you. My boy has made it big and has done what no spider has ever done before."

To El Morro and back

2009-08-17T10:49:00.012+05:30

Last week Swine Flu besieged the city and many parts of the country. A few deaths across the country had most people hit the SOS button. The panic stricken people in a desperate attempt to curb the epidemic lined up at hospitals for tests, closed schools and colleges and kept their children away from the crowds, stayed away from Malls(well....mostly....except when there were huge sales at throw away prices), theaters stayed closed for 3 days, people cancelled travel plans...

We'd had enough of the madness!!! The media has added to the panic and at the same time has maintained that more people have died this year, as every year, from common flu, diarrhea, TB, etc.
Swine flu is definitely a cause for concern but there is no reason for panic.

We wanted to get away from it all! Six friends, a hired car and some music...we hit the road!!
This weekend we were tired and didn't really want to trek but we definitely wanted to get out of the city. Korlai Fort or El Morro like the Portuguese called it seemed like the perfect getaway. Its strategic position overlooking the Revdanda creek, its historical background, the promise of seafood because of its proximity to the coast, the opportunity for good photography, all made it the perfect choice for our Sunday Outing.
The drive to the fort was beautiful. It was a cloudy morning and after a hearty breakfast of pohe, vadapav,kharwas,sabudana khichadi and masala chai at Datta(Panvel)we hit NH17.
The drive was scenic...clouds enveloped the Karnala Pinnacle, the hopeful monkeys lined the highway waiting for snacks and treats from the passing cars, a little ahead the villages ran alongside the road, the lush green fields of paddy, the various gourds that grew on vines that snaked up poles and nets kept to tame them, the villagers setting up their daily stalls selling fresh farm produce....
As we neared Alibaug the roads turned into gallis, old houses with tiled roofs surrounded by palms stood in stark contrast to the posh villas. We could smell the sea in the distance and we grew impatient to reach the fort.
As we crossed the Revdanda creek the fort came into sight.

Located on a little hill and surrounded by water on three sides, the fort is at an approximate height of 300 feet above sea level. The whitewashed walls of the church on top are visible from a distance.(The ruins of the ancient church are being restored)
Korlai Fort or Castle Curlew or El Morro although built and used primarily by the Portuguese was at various points also under the Nizam, Maratha and finally the British rule. Though the main entrance to the fort faces the East you can drive right to the base from the West through the Korlai village. A Naval lighthouse stands at the base and is operated by 4 men who live in its premises. We climbed to the top of the lighthouse and spent sometime with the coast guard who told us about its operations- the beacon, the focus points, the distance to which the light travels at night, etc

Approximately 150 steps lead to the top of the fort. The fort commands a view of the Revdanda creek and the Revdanda Fort on one side, the Arabian Sea to the West and the Korlai Village and the Korlai Beach to the other side. The ancient church, a number of cannons on the bastion, a breathtaking view of the creek with the fishing village, a temple, colourful boats bobbing on the water, cattle grazing in the distance...I'd almost forgotten that it was no longer the cloudy day it started out to be. The sun was blazing and my skin was two shades darker(I'd forgotten to wear my sunscreen), we'd finished our supply of water, it was nearing 3pm and our stomach's were screaming from hunger. We'd spent almost four hours atop the fort.

Someday I'd love to watch the sunset from the fort or even lie in my sleeping bag and listen to the sea while i watch the innumerable stars on a winter night.
As we drove back we realised that in this part of the sleepy world it was too late to get lunch. Fortunately at Alibaug a little eatery(Khanaval) was open and we lunched on Mutton Thali with Fried Pomfret. I've been wanting to eat at the Patil Khanaval at Murud for ages. This little place, although its namesake, and our saviour didn't offer the mouthwatering lunch that I expected. Nonetheless the food was decent and we were starving.
On the drive back to the city we bought all sorts of gourd from the villagers-bitter, snake, etc. not so much for our love of food but more from the excitement at buying straight from the hands that sow the crop and reap it.
This will probably be our last trek for the season. The rain has vanished and the heat is slowly becoming unbearable. A lot of ambitious plans have been chalked out for Winter treks in the Sahyadris. So....until the next trek....I have some wonderful memories from the many treks this Monsoon.

Restoration or Renovation?

2009-07-17T14:24:00.005+05:30

3 years ago I used to drive down to the Sewri Mudflats to see the migratory flamingos on a lot of weekends. On one such trip, equipped with my camera, I decided to visit the Sewri fort.
The dilapidated fort which had witnessed the vagaries of time and the weather and more so the unrelenting human hand seemed to be left to its own fate and I wished that the Government would do something to look after our heritage sites before it's too late.

I visited the Sewri Fort again last month. I had read reports in the Newspapers about the fort getting a face lift and wanted to see it for myself. The Government has finally done something about this heritage site...finally!!! I'm not sure how I felt about the new look though. On my first visit the fort bore an unkempt, dilapidated, rough but rustic look.
Today, the fort has been cleaned up. It no longer smells like a toilet or is used by miscreants. The peepal and banyan trees which were growing though the cracks of the walls are no longer there. The fort seems renovated!!!!!!!!! Shouldn't such places be restored instead so they still bear their old, rustic, historic look and yet are cared for so they don't crumble to dust someday?
The fort is all concrete now. It's a new fort now and no longer bears any semblance to a monument. Do compare the pictures in this post with my previous one.
Do respond to this post. I'd love to know what you think...

http://mumbaichimulgi.blogspot.com/2006/07/sewri-fort.html

Offbeat destinations in Maharashtra

2009-07-17T14:03:00.003+05:30

This monsoon I plan to visit a few more offbeat destinations in Maharashtra and write about them.
The first of them was Sindola and you've already read my post about it. I've visited Karnala, Manikgad, Kothligad and Sagargad since.
I read a book on the 2012 prophesy and my 'bucket-list' has a zillion more additions now. So much to do..
Well....I hope to write about each of these trips soon..

Sindola!!!????

2009-06-15T17:21:00.009+05:30

This year has been exceptionally hot and since patience is a virtue I don't really possess we did our first monsoon trek before onset of monsoon. We chanced upon 'Green Carpet' and their plan to trek to Sindola Fort on 7th June and decided to join in.

I scanned through 'Offbeat tracks in Maharashtra', 'The Sahyadri Companion', 'Trek the Sahyadris' and the internet and found very little information on the fort. Barring Harish Kapadia's Trek the Sahyadris none of the other books had any mention of Sindola fort and Harish Kapadia doesnt mentioned much besides this:

Sindola(1395m/4577ft)
As seen from Bhandardara lake, straight in line with the damn wall in the south east is Sindola. It is a good climb above Mutkhel, which is an important village on the south-western shores of the lake.

The author classifies it as an easy trek but I'd say otherwise. Our five-people-group started at 5am from our respective houses in Mumbai to reach Kalyan Station between 6:30 am and 7am. By the time the 'Green carpet' bus left Kalyan station, at almost 8am(an hour after the scheduled departure time), stuffed with trekkers like a gunny bag carrying potatoes in a truck, we'd begun to lose our enthusiasm. The bus journey to Malshej ghat was deafening; most of the 35 odd people in the bus started singing, in chorus, their remixed versions of bollywood's most annoying songs. The idea of a short nap on the journey had to be dismissed as even a conversation with the person sitting next to you was impossible considering the decibel levels. After a long halt for breakfast and another hour of singing we finally alighted from the bus at a spot in the middle of the ghat. The Padmavati river snaked through the valley to our left and to the right in the distance we could see the Sindola Peak. The initial journey was easy with a gradual climb but the sun was high in the sky and beat down on us, dehydrating us and making the climb very tiring.
Soon the easy part was over and we started scaling the sides of the hill with very poor foothold and loose rocks and scree. To our left was a fall, straight into the valley. For the experienced trekker Sindola wasn't as difficult a trek but it definitely wasn't easy either. I discovered a fear of heights for the first time. My feet struggled for a foothold(my woodland shoes didn't help much)and thorns dug into my palms as i struggled to hold on to the sides of the hill. Looking down at the valley I felt my head spin and the rest of the trek seemed stressful and like a fight for survival instead of the pleasurable trip it was meant to be.
Despite the odds we made it to top. The view was breathtaking but barring two small idols cut in the rocks -Hanuman and Ganapati - the top of the hill bore no evidence of the fort or the watch tower. The highlight of any trek is either the journey or the destination and this trek was treacherous without much to see on top.
As we finished our lunch we saw very menacing looking clouds over the adjacent hilltops and before we started our journey downwards the wind began to blow so hard that it threatened to blow us off the hill. In minutes the rain followed and soon we were drenched to the bone. The rain stopped in less than fifteen minutes but it ensured that a part of the journey back down was rendered slippery.
With terrible cramps in my left thigh and my newly discovered phobia of heights my feet refused to move. A couple of hours later, with help from two other trekkers, I finally made it off the most difficult part of the hill. The sun was back, our clothes were dry and a sense of accomplishment was slowly taking place of the fear we held on to all afternoon.
I'm sure I won't attempt Sindola Fort again....I'm not sure I even want to call it a fort!!

Potty Babble

2009-01-23T22:17:00.005+05:30

I never though answering nature's call could add some humour to a dull day at work. Over the last couple of years I have been very amused by the different posters put up at the loos of the various client offices I visited.

Here are some of them....

Koraigad!!

2008-11-03T19:10:00.008+05:30

The monsoon had beaten it's annual retreat leaving us PMSing (Post Monsoon Stress) with the advent of the October heat. Hoping to escape the grueling weather in the city we planned another trek.
We caught a 6am State Transport bus from Dadar and headed to Lonavala via the old Mumbai- Poona Highway. The old bus groaned as it climbed the winding ghats. Nonetheless, in a couple hours we were at the Lonavala ST stand just in time for a hearty breakfast at Ramakrishna.
Idli, dosa, hot samosa and a masala chai later we hopped into a sumo we'd hired and set off on our 20 km drive to the base village- Peth-Shahpur. The village of Peth-Shahpur is en route to INS Shivaji and Sahara Group's Amby Valley.
We parked our vehicle at the base village and started our trek.

The Koraigad fort is atop a steep hill at the height of 3,000 feet above sea level. The climb, although it looks steep, is fairly easy and takes approximately an hour. The path to the fort is along a flat plain initially and is covered with a carpet of yellow blossoms and multitudinous butterflies . It then winds though a moderately wooded path through a canopy of vegetation until you reach the steps of the fort. The climb is rendered much simpler because of the steps and yet it is steep and can leave you breathless.

It took us longer than an hour to get to the top. We stopped every now and then to admire the caterpillars and butterflies, to photograph the fort, a Ganesh Temple on the way, a few caves that were possibly granaries.
We entered the fort through the main darwaja
atop which a saffron flag fluttered in the wind.
The fort has no tree cover and is an expansive table land covered with fresh water ponds. The monsoon had left the fort covered in weeds and grass and the October sun beating down on it had transformed it into a yellow grassland. We explored the fort for a couple of hours letting the sun burn our skin despite the sunscreen, glares and hats we wore. We walked along the periphery of the fort and the sight is one to behold...the Mulshi lake, the mountain ranges, a bird's eye view of Amby Valley, an airstrip with a biplane and the Dukes nose in the distance.
The fort houses an ancient temple with a 4 feet tall statue of the goddess Koraidevi and a number of cannons. There is no food available on the fort and we sat along the largest pond, our tired feet soaking in the cool water, munching on the snacks we'd carried with us. Soon the sun was overhead and despite the the breeze our sun burnt skin coaxed us to leave the fort and start our descent. The climb down is much simpler. Soon we were back at the base village and in our car headed to Lonavala.

After a late lunch we caught an ST bus back to the city. Twelve hours after we'd started our journey from Dadar we were back in Mumbai..a little tired, very sun burnt but mostly happy from our little get-away from the city.

HT Cafe again!!!!

2008-10-01T00:52:00.004+05:30

I'm back in print!!!!!!!!!

Adieu to Lisa Chow

2008-09-09T00:23:00.008+05:30

My world was falling apart. I felt alone in a city I'd moved to and decided to make my home. Disillusioned, lonely, heartbroken, I needed a friend. I returned home every night only to be enveloped by the silent walls of my apartment where my mind screamed for some peace of mind. I needed an escape. And I didn't want to be alone.

Here I was, miles from home, in a new city to be with the man I loved and yet in the aftermath of the relationship, making my way through the carnage of my shattered dreams I craved for somebody to talk to, a shoulder to cry on, somebody to need me, somebody to just be there and break the silence of the looming walls of my fourth floor apartment.

Sometimes animals lend you the support humans fail to give. One sunny afternoon I made my way through Russel Market. I didn't know what I was looking for. Was hoping to find a pet, probably a duckling. Then I saw them; their beady red eyes glowed in the sunlight and three furry creatures turned their curious little noses towards me and captured my heart. Henry Hog, Lisa Chow and Molly Glutton found their way into my heart and into my apartment in Bangalore and turned it into a home. Coming home wasn't so bad after all. I'd fish out my key from my purse and the sound of the door unlocking would send the threesome into a frenzy. Their squeals brought the house alive. I'd watch with amazement carrots, cabbage, tomatoes disappear into their ever hungry stomachs in seconds.

The three guinea pigs became more than just pets..my roommates, my friends, my family, my emotional walking stick. As I watched my world crash and my dreams shatter the threesome made themselves comfortable in their new home. But it was time to move on, and move out and return to Bombay. Time to start a new life. Emotionally drained, I don't think I had the strength to start anew or even the courage to deal with what was happening. My family thought I'd be better off moving back home to Bombay with my pets. They'd help me deal with my pain and keep me engaged. Well....they were right.

Hog, Chow and Glutton flew to Bombay, Indian Airlines, economy class. Happy with a bigger enclosure and the new city they decided to start a family. 4 months after we moved to Bombay, one morning Chow very coyly introduced us to her litter of two. Soon our guinea pig family grew from three to nine.

In the months that followed some friends adopted 4 of the piglets and two continued to live with us even after they grew up and the five pigs provided endless hours of fun and companionship.

Over five years have passed. The pigs grew old and passed on. Lisa Chow, the last of them lived to a ripe old age of five and a half years.
A lot changed over five years and most importantly I changed and with me my life changed. I didn't need an emotional walking stick any more. I was stronger and ready to take on life. I think Lisa Chow waited till she knew in her little-guinea-pig-way that I was strong enough now and she was free to succumb to the hand of time.

I returned from a 3 week vacation to find Chow on her side, a film covering her eyes had blinded her, her little feet had no strength to support her body and still she called out in recognition every time I passed her basket. In our five and a half years together she could recognise me from the sound of my footsteps. The vet recommended some medicines and gave her three days to recover. "Put her to sleep in three days if the medicines don't help and end her suffering; she's lived a full life" he said.
I watched her writhe in pain for 3 days and she very demurely let us feed her medicines(with a dropper), water and food. Her condition was beyond repair and on 5th September just before midnight Chow breathed her last.

This is a final adieu to my guinea pig family. They shared with me the worst and the best years of my life.

The Iron Fort - Lohagad

2008-09-04T10:54:00.004+05:30

The Indrayani Express lugged through the rain drenched ghats in the early hours of the morning. We alighted at Lonavala station to find out we'd just missed the local train to Malavli. It didn't dampen our spirits. A hot cuppa tea at the station and off we went to Malavli by rickshaw.

From Malavli station we started our walk, past the railway crossing, a bridge over the expressway, through the Bhaje village and soon we were trudging through slushy paddy fields. A crab popped out from under a rock to say hello and a pair of startled brahminy mynah's took to flight. A cool breeze enveloped us and we were intoxicated with the sights, the smells and the sound this scenic setting had to offer.

The rain gods had finally obliged and waterfalls rushed down the hillside and transformed into gurgling streams.

We reached the road that leads up to the base village. Although motorable I'd only drive up that road if I'm allowed to drive a hummer. The road wound and climbed, leaving the inexperienced trekker a little out of breath. We stopped often and flopped ourselves on little rocks along the way, more to admire the breathtaking view than to rest. In the distance another local train blew it's horn and snaked it's way to Pune. Above us the twin forts of Visapur and Lohagad towered like benevolent monarchs. Their history excited and intrigued us.

The history of Lohagad can be traced back to many dynasties and time periods - Satavahanas, Chalukyas, Rashtrakutas, Yadavas, Bahamanis, Nizamshahis, Mughals and Marathas. The mighty fort, which is one of the better preserved ones today was captured by the Maratha ruler, Shivaji in 1648 AD. The treaty of Purandar forced Shivaji to surrender the fort to the Mughals in 1665 AD but he recaptured it in 1670 AD using it to hide a huge treasure he amassed when he raided Surat. Some people believe the treasure is still hidden on the fort waiting to be discovered.

Soon we were at Lohagaon, the base village. A village stall promised hot bhakris with spicy zunka and even fiery hirvya mircha thecha.

We placed our order and started our ascent up the steps to the Iron Fort. Hordes of monkeys climbed down the walls of the fort to inspect the human invaders. Some pensively watched from the distance and the bigger, bolder ones even barred their teeth in warning. Undeterred we continued through the four huge doors leading up to the fort. First through Ganesh Darwaja, past Narayan Darwaja and Hanuman Darwaja and finally Maha Darwaja we were atop the fort. The fort has remnants from the Mughal as well as the Maratha rule...an old cannon, water tanks, temples, dargas...

We walked through the clouds, the rain coming down in torrents, the roaring wind threatening to blow us off the fort. By the time we'd scaled the length and breath of the fort we were drenched to the bone, our teeth clattered and our muscles ached for warmth but our hearts were captivated by the beauty it had to offer. Our stomach's reminded us of the hot lunch that awaited us at the village.

As promised, the Maharashtrian lunch followed by piping hot adrakwali chai were delicious. Satiated after a delectable meal and warm after a change of clothes we bid our adieus to the hospitable villagers and started our journey back.

We still had one more detour on our agenda. The waterfalls we encountered on our way up extended an invitation which we readily accepted. The cool water engulfed our tired bodies as we lowered ourselves on the rocks. The veiled sun was slowly moving across the sky towards the horizon. Soon darkness would set in and it was time to head back to Malavli.

We got into the local train at Malavali, got off at Lonavala to pick up chikki and fudge and then boarded a bus back to Mumbai. Weary, we rode in silence. Some fell asleep. I shut my eyes and savoured each moment of my blissful trip to Lohagad.

Mirage

2008-08-08T15:11:00.001+05:30

I float down life’s river to a destination without a name
Think I’ve lost the plot, don’t remember how to play the game
Drifting along the river, suddenly by my side
Another lonely traveler, he wants to share the ride

Where have you been, I have waited..
For the twisted hand of fate to usher you into my life

Lost and Found. Lost although I’ve found him
He’s a mirage and I’m the desert sun.
Shining on when he’s not there,
Shining on when he’s not there.

Found my Joie De Vivre

2008-07-20T10:46:00.004+05:30

Do you think it’ll rain tomorrow and I’ll get the day off?” I asked her the same question two decades ago as a school girl as I do now. My grandmother shakes her weary head and responds, “You, will never grow up!!!”
I prayed for rain; the Gods almost never complied and I dragged my reluctant feet to school. Today I dragged them to work. The BMC announcement on SMS, the weather bureau, the 9pm news all promise heavy rain in the city coupled with high tide and water logging. The sun had other plans and out he popped forcing me to brace myself for another long journey to Malad.

Just another 5 days to go before my last day at work. I’ve decided to let go of a lucrative job to pursue a dream. My constant search for 'Work-Life Balance' is hopefully over. A friend commented, " You love life too much Lax to ever balance it with work.'

I have a dream and I plan to dedicate the rest of this year to make it a reality.

I've found my Joie De Vivre

Deesh happens whonly in India!!!!!

2008-04-01T23:30:00.004+05:30

We read so often in the newspapers about shootouts in american schools and lately of similar instances in India as well. What happens minutes before the killer starts shooting innocent, unassuming victims? Is it just another day in their lives? And how do they react to gun wielding strangers? Panic? Or is it their 'Chalta hai' attitude that gets the better of them. I'm lucky I didn't find out....

The Monday blues spilled over to Tuesday. I resorted to my numbaar one stress buster...food ofcourse!!! A colleague had Jumbo Vada Pav cravings and off we went after work to my favourite tapri at Mindspace.

A Vada Pav in hand, exchanging pleasantries with ex-colleagues along the tapri, I missed watching my colleague bump into a really drunk or doped(maybe both) guy. As she glared at him our other colleague happened to notice that the guy wasn't just drunk or stoned, he also possessed a gun!!!! As he swayed and his two friends attempted to help him keep his balance. He held on to his gun and moved it around casually like it was a book or a cigarette he was holding. We panicked and moved away quickly into the car to watch what was happening from a safe distance.

Was this really happening? And why weren't all the people around reacting!!!! My heart skipped a beat...what if he just hit the trigger.....what if he shot somebody.... I looked around...everything seemed normal!!!

'Yaha sab kuch chalta hai!!!'

Somebody dialled the cops.Must be a toy gun, they said. And where is Mahim space?? After 5 minutes of explaining and after taking another 15 minutes to get there, the cops finally arrived. The gun wielding man managed to coax a rickshaw wala to drive him away just seconds before their arrival.

So filmi, I must say!!! The cops arrive when it's all over!!! Whereas for me...that was an interesting end to a blue tuesday :)

Pink is my new obsession!!!!!!!!

2008-03-31T22:24:00.006+05:30

I'd driven to Sewri a million times to watch the flamingos in the distance.Pink specks covering the mudflats turned into bird shapes through my binoculars.

This Saturday was different!!! The afternoon sun scorched our skin as we assembled at Mahul village at 2pm. A little boat and some fisher folk awaited the 'Jungle lore' gang. We set off through the mangroves starling some paddy birds and gulls in the process. The high tide was coming in. The Flamingos who's had their fill were now walking along the mangroves before taking flight.
We were ushered into an even smaller boat, so we could row up to the flamingos without startling them. With my sun-kissed arms on either sides of the boat, squatting on the floor, shifting to maintain the boat's balance, I spotted them as we turned around the bend. Thousands of pink beauties as far as the eye could see!!!
I'd never been so up close and personal with the flamingos....the lesser and greater, the juveniles...just meters away from us....
They waded through the water, squabbled and called out to each other, some posed on one leg....and then....when the tide came in further and the skies beckoned they took off....synchronised feet treading the water's surface, wings flapping, and they were off...
As they flew above our heads towards Anushakti nagar, we watched them till they turned into little specks and then merged with the distant hills.

We rowed back to the village in awe, sharing photographs, our excitement and our new pink obsession!!!

Tiger, tiger, burning bright!!

2008-03-27T22:35:00.005+05:30

TIGER, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
(William Blake)

The craters, brun maska, a cuppa tea

2007-08-01T20:19:00.001+05:30

I opted for another hour of my beauty sleep.I didn't have to spend 2 hours travelling to fort for my meeting. My sister had already promised to get me there in 45 minutes if I agreed to drive faster than I usually do. The roads are clear and there's only a small bad patch(with a few potholes) she added.
The Bombay Port Trust road doesn't have a small bad patch. It has only bad patches of huge crater-like potholes, so my 45 minute drive was more like a trip to the moon's surface. We dodged potholes and bullock carts, and more potholes and trucks and lo and behold....it was a scene straight out of Die Hard 4. A trailer truck had almost overturned and then changed its mind before turning turtle by precariously balancing itself on all its right wheels while the left wheels were up in the air like a dog spraying a lamppost.

The eventful drive did however prove to be much shorter, with no traffic signals and lesser cars.
What does one do at 9:15 am when you're 45 minutes early for a meeting!! Yasdani bakery beckoned, and we sunk out teeth into a warm brun pav with oodles of maska spread on it. A piping hot cuppa followed. Life's little pleasures are sometimes experienced in the most unlikely places...the old, rustic parsi bakery is just one of them.

Satiated and happy with both, the crater laden BPT road(for saving my travel time) and the brun maska(food always makes me happy) I started yet another day on a happy note.

Rainy Days and Sundays..

2007-07-01T18:00:00.002+05:30

The skies opened up and overwhelmed the earth and her parched occupants. Relentless and incessant, the downpour rendered many-human, mammalian, amphibian and other forms of life in various states of despair.
Safely tucked in bed with 'tuesdays with Morrie' my only displeasure was at having to cancel my weekend plans to paint the town red. The rain Gods summoned and I stepped out on a rainy Sunday to burn a few calories with an evening walk.
Gulmohur and copper-pod blossoms, the season's last mangoes, countless limbs of countless trees, a dozen egrets, a couple of dead kites...were all strewn over the colony garden. On the close inspection the pariah kites blinked their eyes, the only part of their drenched body that showed any sign of life.
They spent the week between two rainy weekends lying flat in our garage, letting me hand feed them and nurse them back to good health. As the strength returned to their almost dead bodies, they took to the sky, with one last circular flight around the house as if to say goodbye.

Traffic Police Encounter in Sion!!!

2007-06-02T14:17:00.001+05:30

I grew up on large helpings of 'values' dished out by my grandmother. So, yesterday when a pot bellied, bribe-crazy traffic policeman stopped me at Sion for alleged lane cutting I arrogantly refused to slip a fifty rupee note in my licence. When I opened my wallet to hand over my licence he eyed the fifty rupee note right next to it, expecting me to subtly offer it to him in exchange for my 'freedom' and my time. We all know how painfully time consuming it is to follow-up with the traffic police to claim your confiscated licence.
Infact, along with my even fiery sibling I put up a fight. The cop had let a few BEST buses cut right across my little sunshine car, almost crushing me against the divider in the middle of the road. 'You don't argue with a Traffic Policeman' my Mom scolded me later. Common sense refused to prevail and 'Values' took over instead. 'You are your values. Stand for what you think is right.' Grandmom would be proud of me.

The next day, after having to give up on my beauty sleep, which is a weekend ritual I drove to the Police Chowki to get my licence.
The receipt the Mamu had given me mentioned something about appearing in court after 15 days for 'guidance'. Also something about the 'offence being compounded...'. Failing to understand what it meant I imagined myself standing in court defending my grave crime-lane cutting!!! "Mein yeh Gita pe haat rakh ke kehti hu ki saach ke sivah aur kuch nahi bolungi'. And maybe if they decided not to arrest me after all I would swear again." Mein yeh Gita pe haat rakh ke kehti hu ki kabhi, kabhi lane cut nahi karungi.'

At the police chowky it was a different story. Another pot-bellied mamu sat at a dusty, grilled window collecting money, tearing receipts and returning people's licences. It didn't get any eventful than that. His peon spent forever looking though dusty drawers for my licence which was no where to be found. A paan chewing cabbie yelled on his mobile phone while paan stained spit dribbled down his chin. He was just one of the many errant commuters who drove on Mumbai's roads and every now and then ended up breaking signals, lanes or sometimes just falling prey to a greedy hawaldar who hadn't made enough pocket money that day.

They finally retrieved my licence, charged me a hundred rupees, gave me another receipt and I was off....free to drive away hoping my next encounter(which is inevitable on the Mumbai streets) with a Traffic Police was decades away. And if by chance I encounter one soon I still know ' I am my values'

One Cuckoo flew over my nest

2007-06-01T17:37:00.001+05:30

Here's the story of a female cuckoo bird that flew over my nest...
In distress, chased by the crows, voicing her fright and pain rather loudly she found her saviour a security guard who drove her tormentors away and brought the injured bird over to our place.
No amount of coaxing got her to eat the fruits offered to her.
Hurt and probably hungry after spending 2 days with us she set on another journey in a dark cardboard box to 'Karuna'. Karuna is a NGO which helps animals and birds in distress. She is hopefully in safe hands and on her way to recovery.

For information on Karuna - http://www.karunaforanimals.org/

The website has some useful info- phone numbers for Karuna volunteers, phone numbers for snake rescuers, etc

Baby Boom Time!!!

2007-03-24T15:46:00.002+05:30

Slumber-kissed nights interspersed with the incessant chirp of baby budgerigars in my balcony has been my pride of the last couple of months. As the first brood of youngsters left the nest, the diligent mother set herelf to the task of raising another brood. Set to the endless task of cleaning her nest and feeding the ever-hungry fledgelings, her day seems busier than any regular birdie.

Budgerigars, natives of Australia, are very popular pets all over the world. Hardy, easy to care for and easily bred in captivity, the birds rarely survive if set free. I've known people who set their budgies free in an attempt to give them a better(free) life only to watch them being pecked to death my crows.

My neighbour recently rescued two budgies that someone had set free and had ended up on the crows' lunch menu.

Do educate people that though it's wrong to keep animals and birds caged, it's only fair to let the ones that were born and bred in captivity to live their life safely in the captive environment they're familiar with. That is the only world they know and setting them free only makes them easy prey for cats and crows.

Butterfly Effect!!!

2007-03-24T15:25:00.003+05:30

I got home after a tiring day at work on 5th Feb and logged on to check my emails when a friend pinged me to tell me that my 'butterfly effect' photograph which I'd mailed to Hindustan times was selected for picture of the week and was published in their 5th Feb Edition of HT Cafe.

I'd photographed a male common eggfly butterfly that I'd found sitting on a leaf, basking in the sun.

The male and the female of the species are markedly different.

For more info on the species- http://www.geocities.com/brisbane_nymphs/CommonEggfly.htm

Sewri Fort

2006-07-27T05:59:00.001+05:30

Build by the British as a checkpost, the Sewri fort which dates back to 1680 was then located on the eastern shore of the Parel Island, one of the original seven islands that formed Mumbai. In 1789 Yadi Sakat of the Janjira Islands conquered the Sewri fort along with the Masgaon fort. The fort had a garrison of 50 sepoys under a subedar and was equipped with around 10 cannons.The fort was subsequently used to house prisoners and later became a Bombay Port Trust godown. (Wikipedia)

A bumpy drive past the Imax theater through huge craters on the road brought me to the Sewri Mud flats and as I stood next to the Colgate Palmolive factory my jaw dropped at the site of icecream pink covered mangroves. The Sewri mud flats are home to the Flamingoes that migrate here every year from September to May.I took in the sight to my heart's content and then decided to make my way up the quarried hill to the dilapitated remains of the Sewri Fort. A foul smell emanated as I climbed up the stairs. The fort, unfortunately has been turned into a public toilet by the local residents. The walls bear wittness to where the cannons once stood. If you look seawards past the mudflats and the flamingoes you see the RCF factory in the backdrop.
Sad how little the government takes care of such heritage sites.