If I Could Tell You

ONE OF MY FAVORITE POEMS:

If I could tell you.............

Time will say nothing but I told you so,

Time only knows the price we have to pay;

If I could tell you I would let you know.

If we should weep when clowns put on their show,

If we should stumble when musicians play,

Time will say nothing but I told so.

There are no fortunes to be told, although,

Because I love you more than I can say,

If I could tell you I would let you know.

The winds must come from somewhere when they blow,

There must be reasons why the leaves decay;

Time will say nothing but I told you so.

Perhaps the roses really want to grow,

The vision seriously intends to stay;

If I could tell you I would let you know.

Suppose the lions all get up and go,

And all the brooks and soldiers run away;

Will time say nothing but I told you so?

If I could tell you I would let you know.

W.H Auden (1907-73)

Good Genes and Good Jeans

Thank you for all your wishes, first of all. Can't believe, solid 30's is here!. 
The fun part about my birthday is that according to Hindu tradition of starting of the day, I was born on Poila baishakh, Bengali new year but in english its 15-April. Confused, well I was born at 3.55am, according to hinduism, a new day starts at 5 am, but its already the next day according to general rule of thumb. Hence I get wished both days, usually family wishes me on Bengali new year, the 14 Apr.So the bottomline is that a birthday a year is fun, I have two and its double the fun. 
But I am told I don't look I am in my thirties. Is that good or bad, I don't know,perhaps good better than bad....... If you ask me what the secret is, its just " Good Genes" and a really Good pair of skinny, bottom hugging Jeans!

Strange little Sri Lanka!

Hilarious Moments

Beer drinking monkey : At first he takes a sip!

Then he wants a little more than a sip..........

When he wants the entire glass %$$&&%#&!!!

.........Results in a very drunken monkey alas!

The squirrel with fondness for French toasts...."Je veux plus!!!"

Not my Dream Man...But a very titillated one.

The elephant who loves a bath!

After the shower, a nice lunch...Nice life!

Land of Buddhas........just in case you didn't know..here you go!

What went up, how the hell came down???????

Somewhere in Ulsoor, Bangalore!

Aadhar card- The longest queue by Far!

What is Aadhar Card?

According to http://uidnumber.org/aadhaar/

"Aadhaar is a 12-digit unique identification (UID) number which the Unique Identification Authority of India (UIDAI) is issuing for all Indian residents. The UID number is stored in a centralised database and linked to the basic demographics and biometric information – photograph, ten fingerprints and iris – of each individual"

Sounds nice eh!

Not so nice when you see the queue!!! Though the objective of the UID card is very good, the process itself is laborious and time consuming. According to the website, one needs a minimum of the passport, Voter's ID card, PAN card, Bank passbook and/or bank statements for verification. Online registrations are not so guaranteed as is with all governmental registrations.

I got a letter from my bank as the proof of address. Now the challenge was to get the young guys and girls( who were hired for verification at these centres) to get them to understand that any letter from the Bank in the bank letter head with the signature and seal of the bank employee is valid, as valid as any account statement/ passbook. But finally managed to do so after much deliberation.

So when my turn came for actual registration, it was another ball game altogether.

The personnel (A young boy with basic computer knowledge) started typing & after 25 or odd corrections (which one has to check, lest Debarati Nandee comes out as "Deberathi Nanadee" in the final ID and you have to make another 3 rounds to their office to get it corrected), it was finally done.

While getting the Iris scanned, you have to open your eyes as big as possible (The final product looks like a close up shot from a zombie movie), your fingerprint scanned (four fingers of the left hand first, then four fingers of the right and finally the two thumbs). Finally the horror of the photograph taken from their prehistoric web camera. It pains my heart to look at it. But finally I got the registration done after 2.5 hours of waiting. Now comes the real waiting, to get the actual card which some say 3 months but am sure will be longer.

Now do you really have to get that card, I would say, YES. Its a bit of a that extra bureaucratic work that you have to do but hopefully you'll have an unique identity that would surely be helpful in the future. So watch out for that space in your local newspaper!

The Cheese Factory.

The previous night we had dinner at Mango Hill. And had a chance encounter with Francois & Oliver, Proprietors & caretakers of Mango Hill. Thank god I wore my "I love Paris" T-shirt which made the two Frenchmen, one of them a Parisian, a little amused and hopefully a little happy. We were startled to learn that they make homemade cheeses right in Auroville, in their hotel. We were immediately curious to know about the art of cheese making. I gingerly approached Francois for a tour of of their cheese factory. After a bit of deliberation, we settled for a time the next day for the tour. Yeah, Success!

I remember going to Cadbury's factory in Mumbai to learn about chocolate making. As curious as I am about everything in life, I also always wanted to know how cheese is made. The only simple reason I have to give is that I do like good cheese but never thought could find a cheese maker here in India. Well I was lucky!

We reached an hour late for the tour. However, Mango Hill was very kind. After all they live in India and hope they know about IST-Indian stretched time!

Mango hill has an experienced & chirpy cheese master, Shiva. He keeps track & carries out all the necessary processes for making the delicious cheeses.So let me share what we learnt about cheese making that day:

Everyday fresh milk is obtained from the local farmers and they are boiled to a certain temperature and left to cool. The milk is cooled , the enzymes are added. After the milk curdles, it gets strained and put in molds.These molds are then kept under pressure to strain out the excess water. They are then labelled and kept in the maturing room. Depending on the cheese type, the enzymes & the maturing time differs.

Francois & Oliver proudly showed us their cellar where the cheeses are aged. And what a nice array of cheese! Considering the climate, the difficulties and the relatively new interest of cheese in India, I think Mango hill cheeses have a good future. Prepare yourselves for seeing them in shelves across departmental stores soon .I can vouch for the taste (although am a new connoisseur) as me & my friend went on a spree of buying and tasting the different cheeses they had to offer...Gouda, Cumin gouda, Borsalino, Mozzarella, Farmer's cheese, Blu (V's favorite, not mine).

Over a nice cup of coffee and some cheese, we shared stories & views through topics that links & interlinks. Perhaps that is the best part of meeting new people ....as you always learn about new things, new views and about ambitions never heard before. Perhaps it was the best part of the afternoon!

When you are in Auroville, do visit the charming Mango Hill (on old Auroville road) not only for the cheeses but for their wonderful hospitality. Who says French are snobby, atleast not the ones we met that day.Thank you Oliver and thanks especially Francois for sharing your "Top-secrets".

World Cuisine at Auroville

I am not a foodie neither am I a connoisseur of food. But as far as I can remember I liked watching cooking shows, trying out new dishes happily being a mini Nigella in the kitchen(minus the B****). So when I landed in Auroville, I was quite happy to eat out at the different multi cuisine restaurants run by expats settled there.

The first morning unfortunately was a little disappointing. There were no continental breakfast place open on the ERC road. So found a small little place called “CHANDRU’S RESTAURANT” serving Dosa , Idli and regular South Indian food. The Pongal I ordered (which by the way is one of my favourite dish) was non- descriptive, whitish, more rice than dal (thanks to inflation). Oh well, at least our hungry stomachs were full! As we made our way back to the guest house, we promised ourselves to eat better for the rest of the trip.

And we did…at “GIORGIO’S”. We had Mozzarella fritters, frankly you can avoid that. But the pièce de résistance was the Gnocchi con Frutti di mare….Gnocchi, which is a kind of pasta (available in markets in Bangalore) cooked with sea fish. It was light, fresh, slightly thickened with cream and parmesan. A dash of lemon juice after which it promptly disappeared into our waiting stomachs. Strangely Giorgio himself was absent. So we were done with Italian or so we thought.

For dinner, it was time to turn French! We were at “MANGO HILL”, a beautiful hotel with a charming restaurant lovingly run by a French family. The swimming pool of the hotel was especially inviting. We ordered Roasted ham with lightly grilled vegetables for moi & Fish a la Setoise with french fries & garden salad for mon amie. Sadly though, no drinks on the menu ….so had to make do with half a bottle of wine back at the guest house.

The next day afternoon we made runs & reruns to & fro Matri mandir in the quest of finding our next cuisine, Greek! But when we reached there after crossing endless silent forests and lonely roads, the café was closed…for 15^th August!!!!! Now what can possibly be the connection between a baklava or a moussaka & our Independence Day??? Ah well sometime can turn out to be a blessing in disguise…for then we settled for a restaurant called “TANTO’S”. Now we were not looking for Italian again but the fresh wood oven baked pizza at Tanto’s were delicious…So was the grilled grouper with fresh salad…Che Buono! The Mango sorbet was to die for!

The last evening at “LE CLUB”, Pondicherry was the time for Creole food washed with good beers. Who would have thought of Creole food in India…I guess India can surprise Indians too at times!!

Food for thought: Some people say that while on a holiday, food should be the last thing on the mind. But amidst the thrill of seeing new places, meeting new people, starting a journey or arriving at a new destination… isn’t trying out different food & cuisines also a part of the experience, another chapter of the exploration? I think so….

Quick thrills @ AuroVille.

We landed in Pondicherry on the morning of the 14th August. After a 20mins auto drive and 200Rs poorer we landed in Samarpan Beach house on ERC road at Auroville, right beside Repos beach. The guest house is not your regular Taj fare. Since the Italian owners were not in town, the caretakers were lazy, immovable and I thought sometimes a bit unusually unresponsive. But the guest house itself was very nicely located just beside the sea and the lounge of the guest house had a divine view with the gentle breeze of the sea fanning us continuously in an otherwise hot weather. The studio we stayed in was decorated with inexpensive but tasteful adornments and it did carry a lot of charm.

After a quick shower and 3 hours of waiting (courtesy lazy staffs again) we came to Repos / Auro beach only to be hugely disappointed by the beach. Unclean, unkept, lack of space to sit, no shady spot compounded by the gawking Indian tourist and the even more gawking local fishermen. We soon realised that a nice relaxing swim was not possible. So we counted our loses and went back to the guest house. Keeping in mind the objective of relaxation we had decided for this trip, we stayed & enjoyed the indoors thereafter.

The evening was spent in discovering pottery shops and french restaurant around Auroville. The next day we hired a bike (very lucky to found one though) and roamed around Auroville, starting from Matri mandir to the interiors .The houses in Auroville looked like the handiwork of some quirky & imaginative architects. They were very strange yet so appealing. The last evening which was also the Independence day was spent 3 hours at a pub in Pondicherry & watching fireworks in R.K Beach as a part of the celebrations.

It was a short & delightful trip.

One disgustingly crazy observation: We saw a boy casually pull down his pants and do his shitty business right at the edge of the sea. Done with his business, he simply waited for the waves to come and clean him naturally. No tissues nor "louta" required. Isn't that the heights of laziness?

View from Samarpan guest house

Bubbling away at Havelock- Part 2

The previous night we celebrated V's Birthday with rounds of whisky sours and Tom collins. Needless to say it was difficult to wake up the next morning for the scuba diving. I had to report an hour early for the same. Upon being instructed by V & V to wake them up before I leave, I took the most ungentle approach to do so....by banging loudly over their door.I must say I quite enjoyed it. After all, these ladies took the slightest of opportunities to catch a wink every now & then and it was getting on my nerves.

I stuffed myself with Pancakes drizzled with hot chocolate sauce and made my way towards Barefoot Scuba, about a km from Wild Orchid.The fresh morning air of Havelock was extremely refreshing. But I reached Barefoot with a little bit of apprehension and some trepidation. Anne, my french instructor gave me a lot of instructions, starting from the signs used underwater. I had a lot of question in mind but perhaps in addressing those I would just increase that little bit of nervousness that had started to set in. V & V joined us for their snorkeling expedition and after a bit of paperwork, we set sail for Elephant Beach.

Our scuba diving team assembled separately and we had about an hour or so of instructions. This was of course a regular practice done for safety. I was actually surprised at the number of protocols the divers and instructors have to follow. I am not going to reveal those and mar your enthusiasm. But brace yourself for the fins for in those, you will be compelled to walk backwards and not forward in the water.

With the tank hoisted on the back of your diving suits, the regulator in my mouth,the mask on my face, the sink weight around my body and the weight on my mind, I plonked in the water with the rest. I was by then seriously worried if I would be able to breathe normally in the water. As we went down meter by meter, Anne would instruct us to close our nose and blow hard. This would normalize the pressure in the ear and I could actually hear my ears pop, just like in the airplanes. My assigned buddy,Anand (who was doing his divemaster course) would now & then signal me if I was ok.

Was I ok.....?????I was more than OK. I was lost.....lost in the view the underwater unfolded as we went deeper & deeper inside the sea. The breathing through the apparatus became completely normal . The depth of the sea has a universe of its own and I knew then that I would never ever be able to completely describe the experience. I couldn't do it then, 9 months later I still can't do it now. The different color fish, the strange curious vegetation, the whitewashed corals...I actually saw a clown fish, the only fish I could identify , Thanks to NEMO! And yes they said it right, a different kind of peace prevails upon you when you have undergone an experience as such. God knows how, but I had a profound feeling of oneness when we made our way back as I sat on the tip of the boat looking towards nowhere in particular but the ever expanding horizon of the Bay of Bengal. Perhaps it was a tranquility of the life underwater, perhaps it was because it was the first time, as is with all first times....it transformed me.

After a bit of snorkeling , it was time to return and land on land. But we were not ready to finish this day yet. Over a cup of coffee and hot calamari, V, V & me along with another girl from Sweden had a hearty discussion about love, life, country, music ....the usual flow of talk that flows from one topic to another with all or no coherency. Joining us was the Director of Barefoot Scuba , Sean from Norway. Perhaps he made the discussion more lively and the evening more interesting.....I wont forget the naughtiness and the twinkle in his eyes when he spoke. Maybe one day we will meet again and talk and exchange thoughts on the various topics we left unfinished that evening.

Its amazing how there are these few days from your life you can remember clearly whilst sometimes you cannot recollect what you did yesterday.....I guess that's a point to deliberate......and that was how it bubbled away at Havelock!

From left: Anand, V, Me, Anne, Sean, V, & Elena.

Bubbling away at Havelock- Part 1

After months of preparation & planning with emails & calls

darting across Dubai & Bangalore,V, V & me finally landed at Port Blair

airport. The view from the flight gave us a glimpse of what lay ahead. And boy,were we excited!

As we made our way to the Port Blair jetty for a ride on the Makkruz catamaran, one could see how this charming little town with neat streets and smell of fresh ocean air was different not only from mainland India, also from the coastal regions of India.

The one & a half hour journey from Port Blair to Havelock was filled with endless view of deep blue Bay of Bengal with waves bobbing up & down. One could be forgiven to think it was a part of French riviera or somewhere in Caribbean if you didn't know where you were. While my friends were fast asleep during the journey, I jumped along with the rest of the over excited tourist scrambling & climbing towards any free space on the windows, just to click away some pictures!

The first approach of Havelock is greeted with the view of a small unmanned lighthouse.As you land at the Havelock jetty you are of course transported back to India when being greeted by a sight of a cow lazily chewing on a piece of garbage.

As we made our way to the beautiful Wild Orchid resort, we had sneak peeks of the bluest of blue sea amongst the coconut trees. Our first duty as a faithful tourist (which we performed quiet eagerly was to get into our swim suits and plonk into the sea just behind our resort. While lazing there, we were astonished to

see the beautiful blue-green light glowing on the top of the waves during the day.It is called bioluminescence and we never knew it can be seen during the day.

But nothing prepared us for the spectacular view of Beach no. 7 or as popularly called the Radhanagar Beach. The pristine, unpolluted, crystal clear water, white sands, green vegetation,lack of tourist, lack of hawkers....are just a few adjectives to describe.

I had read many articles on this particular beach but what the eye sees, only a little can be put in words. One has to see it to believe it.

As Andaman is tucked away in the eastern corner of India, so sadly the sunsets early. At 5.15 pm in November, it was already dark.

We made our way back to the resort which was about 8kms away, we stopped at the market. Havelock has approximately 95% Bengali population and they speak a dialect which is peculiar to an erstwhile district in Bangladesh. The government of India had re-settled them in Andaman giving them around 10 acres of land. Funnily enough the lands weren't really good enough other than to grow coconuts.Thankfully to the rising tourist industry, the younger generation of Havelock have found a livelihood of a different kind.

For dinner, which also happened to be V's birthday we settled for a locally caught mangrove jack fish & crabs. Beach No.7 (Radhanagar beach)

Thanks to the excellent culinary skills of Mr. Sheesha ,the head chef at wild orchid (& a fellow Bangalorean) and our voracious appetite , we happily demolished all of of it within no time. After all we had a day of adventurous day filled with scuba-diving & snorkeling ahead of us.More about it next time.....

Ode to my Gawking Neighbour!

Dear Neighbour,

When we first moved in, your unabashed looking at our balcony was somewhat flattering.

After 10 months, sorry to say is Annoying.

And what might be propelling you to be swooning towards our railing,

Is a mystery that is thoroughly Confusing.

Gone are the days when we could sit on the balcony beside the stairway.

Your sudden appearance with only your chaddi lead us to flee helter, skelter and away!

Gone are the days to wear deep necks & short skirt since last May,

Just to see you ogling was choking our airway!

While pulling water from the well, you keep one eye towards our window,

How do you magically crop up swiftly ...like a longshot arrow?

Pray wear a shirt at times or so....

Cant really stand the sight of your tum tum anymore.

Just be a good neighbor and borrow some sugar,

Or else we just have to sharpen our daggers!

If that doesnot work, we go to your wife.

With no love, Yours Truly ........Neighbours in strife.

Once upon a time @ Ums!

Growing up in the 90's, I as many others grew up seeing the exotic locales of Europe through the eyes of the Hindi movie industry. Remember Yash Raj's productions with our delightful actresses with ample bosoms , deep cut blouses, saris worn way below the "belt line".....swaying along the Steppes of Europe . As to how the flora and fauna of Europe could match our local sentiment of love & longing, I could never understand. But one thing was for sure, even with a Non HD quality view, 11 inches "Japanese" TV & VCR, I as the rest of India could see, those places were mind blowingly beautiful.

And so when I landed at 'Ums' in late April, a small & picturesque mountain village in Northern Italy, I could only think back of those times with nostalgia. The undulating valleys, the shadows of the clouds falling, the lush green carpet of grass spread across, interspeded with tiny yellow and white flowers, the forest filled with pines, the cute fairytale houses with the Dolomites/ Alps forming a perfect background with their snow capped peaks. Almost picture perfect! But this was real!

This part of Italy is more Germanic influenced than of Italian. As I settled in a mountain restaurant "Hofer Alpl" for lunch after an arduous 1 hour climb, I noticed that I am the only person with dark skin there. Hell I must the only dark skinned person for miles around. I was convinced about this when a puzzled 5 year old sitting at the next table asked his father, "Papa', perche' lei è marrone?"...." Dad, why is she brown?". Amidst our laughter, I thought life is funny, as I went in search of the exotic, I became the exotic.

The air was chilly when we left. As I tightened the shawl around my body , It flashed my mind... just how the hell did Madhuri Dixit wear those flimsy chiffon saris in this weather? Well! its just another thing I would never know!!!!

P:S- Attached are some pictures taken at Ums.

Cheerio!