The Devil wears Skis

I had never been SO excited about doing anything in my life. Not even sneaking out of Analog Communication class to watch Manmadhan ( I had officially bunked class to watch a lousy Tamil movie ..but oh what the heck)

I was going to to ski...!! Really ski..!! I mean on real snow!

God, this was a tough one to pass. I mean, think about it...could I even think about doing this in Madras? Even in Winter? Please, the place is so hot that ice melts even inside the refrigerator (but I love the place, so beat it!)

So NOW I knew why God wanted me here despite all my squirming. He wanted me to ..ski!

The Gods wanted me..to skiiiii!

Well, the Husband and I had a few concerns on whether we'd be able to do it, ski that is, considering this was our first attempt. So what was the big deal anyways? I mean, we'd have a an instructor who'd brief us on how to NOT break our vital parts, plus we'd be given helmets to protect our heads. Besides, I knew how to ice-skate decently as I'd done a considerable amount of it in 8th grade (courtesy Girl Scouts) so...it was just the Husband who had to balance on ice for the first time, technically.

Man, this was gonna be cool.

So, a couple of friends decide to come along with us on our skiing escapade on this bright Saturday morning. Hema and Vish (names not changed to protect identity 'cos they really don't care) were as excited as were were and what was skiing if you didn't do it with company?

So we reached Hunter Mountain which is in Upstate New York, filled up the forms and rented the skis and helmets. We looked like super Heroes on a roll. Or dorks, depending on who you were looking at.

On our way out to the snow-mountains, we were divided into groups where the Husband was put into the group that headed out first while I was put in another with the rest of our clan. No biggy, just that we started off almost an hour later.

The first group had a Chinese instructor who (later I'm told) apparently 'forgot' to teach his group how to 'stop' their skis from crashing into a wall while rushing down a hill uncontrollably. I thought these lessons were ALL about knowing how to stop the goddamn skis. Bah!

We, however, had problems of our own. An enormously fat lady as our instructor who made it difficult for us to concentrate while we were busy making cartoony pictures with our heads of her rolling off her ski's and into a wall, was a challenge on its own. But we were soon to discover that excepting for us 3 doofuses (thats a word 'cos this is my blog), the rest of the group comprised of skillful 'pros' who were born naturals from the moment they put their skis on. Actually they were all just kids half my age but deep down, I was willing to bet that they had skied to glory in their previous lives as well. It didn't take too long before it was evident that we stood out quite distinctly from the group, for all the wrong reasons.

As our fat lady started to sing instruct, the 3 of us tried to pay very special attention to what was our skiing lesson. I'd however take an extra minute longer in translating the American-accented instructions to the Indian ones in my brain 'cos I'm from the villages and I think white skin is so cool.

From what was being our first instruction that required me to put my skis on, I was the group's clumsy goofball. I'd feel as though I was falling off a hill, all this on a flat surface! As the instructions began to pour in one by one, I'd find myself accelerating uncontrollably down a slope each time I tried to follow the new instruction or a new move. It was crazy I tell you! I mean, all I'd intend to do is ski down a ramp for about 8 feet and then make a slight 'turn' towards the right or the left in order to stop the motion down hill ...but oh no, my skis would be on a jolly trip to the walls some 100 feet away and I'd have no other choice BUT to forcefully 'make' myself fall (if I were that lucky) as that would be the only way to impede a crash into the gated-walls. Charming, I tell you.

An hour later, our Instructor decides to free the class, a good 30 minutes before schedule. Why this early? To quote the fat lady 'This group barring a very few (which meant just me..grr) doesn't need any help..you are all born naturals'. Hema had given-up a good forty-five minutes before, and Vish...well, I don't know what happened to him...I couldn't even find him. So I was out there on my own, trying to have my skis on and not go tumbling down the mountain at the same time. Fun eh?

For those of you who may implicate that I didn't 'try' or put any effort to sustain on that battlefield, in my defence let me just say that I must have spent at least 50 minutes trying to master the 'wedge' (Plus I'd given up trying to locate the Husband and clan)

I should have packed my skis while I had the chance, but I'd decide to give another whack at it. And, try I did! The wedge, might I add, is an up-side down 'V' shape you form with your legs in a desperate attempt to stop moving at 500 miles/hr. Its supposed to work like a charm, and stop your skiis instantly however fast you may be skiing down. This trick, however didn't work with me (why aren't we surprised). Infact it would do quite the opposite in effect and I'd end up accelerating my way down a 100 feet slope in some 800 miles/hr on my way to Crashsville. All that snow. Christ, were was the sun when you needed it.

If you're still thinking why I didn't stop and give-up, well sorry to burst your bubble, but I quite did.

At around 4 pm I decided to call it a day and broadcast the fact that I proposed to officially quit my long and successful stint in skiing. The Husband, quite apparently had a jolly good time skiing his butt off and refused to come out till the authorities switched the lights off.

I on the other hand, had a couple of things I could use from this escapade...a ton of loony photos which me look like ludicrous astronaut, a couple of broken bones around my neck (from the thousands of times I came tumbling down, who'd think?), and a twisted tale to inspire fellow ambitious Desis.

Goooooooooooooooooooooooo ski ! :D

The Year of the Firsts or Happy New Year Folks

Every time the new year comes by, I think to myself however stupendously refreshing the following year may be, it can never outdo the previous one... in the good way or the bad way. See, I don't handle change very well so much so that I have this ridiculous inertia to write the year's number correctly for like the first 4 months of the new year!!
So, like every year, I warn myself of change that is inevitable and also assuage myself that it wouldn't be as bad (or as good) as the previous one. So its always best to start off with zilch expectation, you'll see how far that takes you. Having said, one other thing every new year brings me, is its innumerable Firsts, be it nice-firsts or horrible-firsts. Its always worth remembering my Firsts and I'm sure its the case with you too.

'08 gave me my
My first tryst with Snow...
My first 9-gajam saree...
My first online fraternity (whom all I love a tad too much)
My first Hindustani concert in the 8th row of Music Academy..
My first Embedded systems job (that didnt last for more than 4 months)..
My first wedding (and the last one mind you..) ...
My first long stay away from my parents..
My first scooty accident which wasn't my fault..
My first concert...
My first Tam-Bram thaligai..
My first kamalAmba navAvarnam...
My first fight over Gmail..
My first Amma/Appa-I-miss-you mail..
My first sip of Margareta (read sip. And let that be the last one thank you very much)..
My first Album..
My first parasailing..
My first Chinese food (Yuck.Period.)
My first sister-in-law...
My first flu..
My first Elizabeth Arden..
My first Deepavali with a new family..

Try this too, in your head if you want, what your Firsts were. I'm sure you'll have some you could talk about. Its fun and worthwhile.

Wishing you all a fabulous year ahead,
Confounded-Lady :)

Lessons my Elders (didn't) teach me

Flushed with the success of conducting a grand TamBram wedding (if I may), all my parents have to now do is sit back and watch discerningly as to how their li'l girl survives her new life.

No, I don't really mean to make it sound like boarding school or rehabilitation, but marriage (or post-marriage to be more specific) is indeed a big deal for any Indian parent and an even bigger deal for any Indian parent's child. So, I am work in progress, every single minute of the day.
The thing with marriage *I go on to say in wisdomous tone, lowering spectacles so that it rests firmly on nose to give intellectual look* is that there are very many loopholes and..I'm afraid that there are somethings only experience can teach you.


For instance, they say that you ought to shed your ego, every ounce of it, when you're starting off a new relationship with your spouse. Heck every relationship can do well with little or no ego, but I'm restricting my insightful thoughts to marriage as for now, cos...everything now is about what I think about marriage isn't it?

Yes it is. That was just a rhetorical question.


So.
As I was saying, amongst all the precious pieces of advice the Elders from back home had given me, like smile, be nice, be friendly, be neat, be less finicky, don't frown, don't use chilly powder as weapon, don't be yourself, shop at Debenhams (just kidding), yada-yada-yada blah-blah, the most common words of wisdom I'd received was to shed my ego ( I travel with excess baggage, that's sometimes so not very nice) and be truthful if I didn't know something.

That is sane advice, yes I know. So before I leave to my husband's place, I resolutely practice my lines in front of the mirror, "Sorry, I don't know how to do that", "Sorry, I'm new at this, can you teach me?" or "No I've never made tea all my life..can you make your own tea for the first 10 years of our married life?"
See, that wasn't so difficult. Everything just needs a little practice. Even the non-ego part like the Elders said, can be conquered with just a little determination. Yay for me.
Or so I'd think.

But its not as easy as I thought it would be you know, this no-ego thing.

You see, humans have this inherent tendency to say 'I do' without even the slightest hesitation (if you're Ross Gellar, you're a pro and I'm not even talking about you).
Its not just the weddings, its everything else in normal life..in dealing with people, things, situations, especially when they're new... I've learnt that it takes a lot of courage and strong-will to say 'Nope, sorry, I really don't know how to'.

So the other day when V asked me if I know how to iron shirts, I say 'yes' so matter-of-factly like I was asked if I knew how to eat thayir-sadum.
I surprise me.
I mean, how good was I at ironing anyway?
Lets see..All my life my mom ironed my school-uniforms.
I'd ironed my Salwars to college, but that was just because I loved ironing over large flat surfaces, it made me feel nice. I never really cared how it looked even if it looked far more wrinklier after I was done with the iron-box.
Then there was always the ironing my clothes before packing, so that they'd fit perfectly into my suitcase. It was clearly another case of ironing out of desperation, so it didn't really matter whether they looked nice or not..as long as they fit neatly in a row.
Wait, there must be more.
Oh yes, I remember ironing my Appa's shirts before he'd leave for work.
I am now beginning to realise that he wore the shirts which I ironed to work without much of a grumble JUST to not hurt my feelings. No wonder he never removed his suit at work.... he'd get sacked if anyone saw how an Investment Banker dressed to work at this Bank!

So! Not even bothering to consider my promising past with the iron-box, I daintily trot to the iron-stand and pick up one of V's shirts that need ironing on my way.

I JUST then realise that I don't know where to start. I iron over the flat surfaces (and enjoy the good feeling like the 'ol salwar days), and stop at the sleeves. I really don't know where the crease ought to be. I mean, in a proper shirt where you go to work not expecting to get sacked the very next day for looking like rubbish.
Same with his trousers, where is the goddamn crease??? At the sides or at the front?

After ironing all the flat parts (something I can do as professionally now), I go up to V and tell him that my father was a good man for wearing what I ironed for him all these years.
V gets the picture, he's a fast learner.
I give my sheepish grin (another thing I can do quite professionally).
V irons his clothes to work for now..and makes his tea (for now). I love his tea.
I take care of the cooking, and the fire-alarms that go off during the process.

I'm yet to go up to him and ask him where the crease falls.

Some digression with a Point....Somewhere.

Current Status: Helplessly watching my friends triumphantly flash their ‘I-told-you-so’ look at me (and this, I must add, they do quite effortlessly) while they witness me undergo my silent eat-my-words syndrome.

Frankly speaking, I never ever thought it would come to this.

Well, I’ve gotta give it you. You guys were right. I still have a lot to see. And I’m sure glad that (some of) you were a part of my awakening.

Sideline: The above few lines may precariously insinuate that I’ve suddenly attained some TOTALLY out-of-this-world realization of some sort …. Like the concept of Moksha..or Something like roaches being capable of producing almost 3000000 more roaches every year….or Prathibha Patel becoming the President of our Country. (Kidding….I always knew that roaches reproduce like crazy)

What I’ve always known and ALWAYS realized, is that I suck BIG TIME at practicals, vivas and interviews (in any order). 4 years of engineering and a lot of my supportive friends from college are more than just testimony for that.

But (trying to strike a contrast here) what I’ve always known but NEVER EVER realized is that how big and heterogeneous a country I’m a part of. (No, I’m serious and truly not up to any wise-cracks here).

There are some things that are easily a part of an everyday conversation or discussion but never really dawn on you with their exact meaning and significance unless you sit to think about it.
Something like the fact that…the universe is infinite.
Yes, you ‘know’ that and I ‘know’ that… but it would typically take you a while to actually ‘feel’ the gravity of that statement …for the fact to actually sink into you. And when it does, boy, it would leave you marveled and amazed; despite the number of times you’ve thrown that statement here ‘n there in public.

This is something like the point I'm trying (quite earnestly) to drive at.
Terms like ‘multi-cultural’, ‘harmonious integration’, unity-in-diversity’ never really meant anything more than just salient features of a distinctly complicated country, until I got out of my ‘shell’ (READ: Chennai, which is moreorless the only place I’ve known well. Yes, I know I’m ignorant.) and traveled ta Bombay for the first time.

I went..I saw..'n I was conquered. It overwhelms me to think of how a single country can house SO many different states which are SO incredibly different from each other. Its has been a week..and I’m still amazed.

And still haven’t gotten over it.

The more I think about it, the more I’m falling in love with this country….and I promise this has nothing to do with the fact that Aug 15 is round the corner. (skeptical folks, hmph! :D)
I’ve already chartered a virtual plan in my head listing out all the places I’d like to visit in the near future and I’m already soopah excited about it. My ideal travel plan would certainly NOT include those enormously popular planned-tours with horribly boring Volvos which house at least 3 kids wailing their hearts out, or at least 2 people wanting to stop for a pee every 30 minutes. (the chances that your VOLVO will have at least 3 potential cry-babies when your on a holiday, are unfortunately rather high)
Thanks, but no thanks.


My heart is fervently hoping for my next venture to the North…. Something I could handle myself without anyone’s assent/consent. A wild trip with me and just me, my digi-cam, a crazy hat, a jute bag worn diagonally across me, a rainbow-walla chaathi (my unfulfilled dream to own one…*sob!*), and absolutely NO luggage. ;)

I can imagine catching an train to some arbit sub-urb/village, holding on to the pole at the bogee ‘s gate, with the wind hitting against my face while I find it difficult to hold on to my flying chunee. (Ok, I’m imagining a bit too much, but I told you I was really excited) :D


Before I stop…(yes, miracles do happen)

Things I loved about Bombay.

1. The Local trains

How people board the 'Bomaby' local trains and survive to tell the tale of it still remains an enigma to me. I was warned by my friends the moment I landed in Bombay, of the peak-hour traffic within the general compartmnet and that I shouln't go about heralding the fact that I *love* the local trains after one measly trip on a Sunday.

So....in order to prove a point, I travel by the local trains, on a Monday morning, where I imagine half the Bombay-population in plonked into that very same bogee I'm situated in. After the painful ordeal of finding a seat (which is a luxury far from reach for most travellers) I find myself squished between two pan-chewing uncles on either side of me, with their news-papers sprawled across their laps. (sort 'v missed the Hindu here) . Getting out of that mess would easily surpass signing a peace treaty with Bin Laden in terms of impossibility.

But...I still loved it. Every single, sweaty, tormenting second of it.

2. The chaos and the crowd

This was a riot. Want to be scowled and scorned at for fun in Bombay?

Walk fast in some arbit public spot. Stop walking and stand still for 3 seconds. You'll hear (at least) seven people asking you to move your ass off their way. They are busy people... and do not have time to watch a static piece of mass on their way...for 3 whole seconds. (And I always wondered why Bombay was too 'fast' for some people. )

3. The Bombay Rains

Ah...my favourite. I could go on and on 'bout this one.

You havent seen rains till you've experienced Mumbai rains. They pour 5 cats and 6 dogs. (bad joke..but I use it all the time :D). Lord Varuna's in for a party when the Monsoons hit Mumbai. The thing about Mumbai rains is that, they just're amazingly dynamic. I mean, one moment you see them..'n the next second you don't. I remember fidgeting with Tosh's purple umbrella trying to open it and save my head, and by the time I'd gotten it open, the rain had stopped. (I had that 'well-I'll-be-damned look ever since)

4. Pani Puri

Whats so special about the PP (Rathi's way of putting it) in Bombay?

I really REALLY don't know. But all I know is that its absolutely divine. I mean, I'm a sucker for the normal Chennai-canteen walla PP itelsef...so when I had a taste of the PP in Churchgate, I went gaga over it. I would 've ordered indefintely, but I reminded my self of public norms of decency (whatever that means :P)

5. Marine Drive

It was undoubtedly love at first sight. For all you non-Mumbaikars, Marine Drive is just a road with the sea adjacent to it. Like any normal beach actually. But there's something about taking that walk along that stretch of land. While Sahil and Parimal were playing Mr.Tourist-Guide by explaining the worth of property at the other side of the lane, I was busy being mesmerised by the view from the kerb. At one point, it looked pretty much like New York.

6. The rocks at Nariman Points

Trying to walk across those rocks on a rainy evening isn't exaclty the wisest thing to do. But thats exactly what we did. And man, it rocked! (pun unintended)

Actually, It got so complicated as I hopped from one slippery rock to another, that at one point of time, I had to squat on one of the rocks to print a mental strategy on what rocks I had to travese by next, to reach the point were Parimal was standing. And then, it would start to rain. And I'd be squatting on that slippery rock; plonk in the middle of no-where, till the rains subsided. This still makes me laugh.

7. The guilt-less arriving home late during weekends (and every other day presumably)

Lets just say that my mom doesnt know that I had dinner at a restaurant in Mumbai with friends at around 01:00 hours on a Sunday. For me it felt sooper-cool to be doing something I (still) am not allowed to do, but for folks there....it was another normal weekend.

8. People I more than just know ;)

Tosh Raman Sahil Takloo Chacha Rathi Poorva Chirag Nikhil Vishal Prithvi. Your more than just a reason for me to get my ass back down there. Need I say more.

Things I didn’t like about Bombay:

That it wasn’t Chennai.

Some Trip (..or why you should just walk it all the way)

My office-mates scattered all over India (Delhi, Bombay, Calcutta, Ahemedabad 'n Bangalore to be precise) had decided to meet up in Madras for a nice holiday over the weekend. The itenary involved visiting Thirupathi followed by a trip to Yercaud.
Simple.
Yeah, I wish!

This trip would have been just another trip if we had planned it meticulously for which I sincerely advocate people to plan their holidays in future in such a way that, they are unplanned to the last minute.
Chaos is good fun, I've discovered. :D

Before going about this journey, let me introduce you to some of our key players in this trip.

1. Pradeep - our mystery bus that did everything but move.
2.Mr. Muthu, the Bus owner-Who seriously ought to close down this incompetant bijjiness of his and perhaps join another software company. I’m talking to HR-TCS for a fair opening.
3. Fate (without which this trip would have been just another trip)
4. Us crazy juntha-Need I say more.


12:30am Thursday : Night out at Anchal’s.

Bombay, Guj, Calcutta ‘n Delhi guys turn up at Anchu s place…Takloo (who was not yet takloo), his friend Sudheep, Sahil, Tosh, Chacha, Raman, Paro, Bhaumik, Yudee, Chirag, Nikhil, Chirag Patel,Anchal Surosa Shyamala ‘n me..
boy, seeing everyone under the same roof would never feel the same. After doing some exuberant screaming, shouting and catching up we head to the nearby TCS office for tea at some ungodly hour 4am. The bus is expected to arrive at 5am. We re all ready leave.

Thrusday, 7am
Its 7am We’re STILL ready for the bus to arrive. Calling the bus-driver seems tougher that talking George Bush into joining Indian politics.
But oh well, we have our cameras and ourselves to have some fun.

Some one ‘n half hours, 21 phone calls and ten photos later, the bus finally arrives.
And following that, is the grand entry of Saaaaaaaaaaaai ;) (Applause, applause!)



Friday 10AM, Pradeep
We re on our way to Thirupathi…. It feels nice not to be cramped up in a bus like we used to in Trivandrum. Lots of space….lots of talking..and a bit of sleeping. (Sahil also caught up on a bit of sleep if I do remember ;) )


Friday, 12:00 pm Thirupathi
Blore guys arrive…PayDay, Naveen, Jimmy and Veena (PD’s friend) are welcomed with much excitement. We move to the local bus-stand in Thirupathi to board another bus which will take us to the hill-top (the temple being on a hill). Topic of discussion during our ascent up the hill was Jimmy’s new sexy cell phone-one in black with one of those tooth-pick types you can poke the screen with.
Some good fun there.

(flanked by Naveen, Raman, Bhaumik 'n Tosh)





3pm Thirumala, hill top
It isn’t too cold, neither is it too hot. We walk to a public hall where we can keep our stuff in lockers and freshen up. We’re all set to head to the temple after that.
But not without some lunch at a nearby restaurant. Sahil-saab very dutifully took our orders and we were all now really ready for the temple J

Friday 5pm, on our way to temple
2 official takloos originate at this hour.
Takloo and Parimal (like one talkoo was not enough in our gang :P)
Chacha, I presume will now be the style icon in Mumbai ;)



The queue is long.

Very long.

Free-dharshan has a notorious reputation for making people wait forever to see the lord. What follows the long queue is a room which houses something like 200 hundred people and makes us wait for another for 5 odd hours.
But trust me, waiting has never really been this much fun.
Imagine 20 people cramped up along the steps which can customarily seat 12 people. Absolutely no space to even lift your hand and scratch your head.
Activities during this wait, involve fervently discussing Tosh’s romantic engagement [;)], Chirag’s 4 day wedding, Sahil’s childhood love stories, and hitting Jimmy’s face every 3 mintues. (ask chacha)

Friday 8pm, inside waiting room
Paro faints.
She feels bad about it later….sweet girl
I seriously don’t know why she feels guilty.
I’m sure all of us would have dropped in that claustrophobic ambience in some time anyway.

Friday 9pm, inside waiting-room
We’re tired of waiting but we still have to. So,now we all plan to sing. I sing Lukka Chuppi which sparks up some laughter for some unknown reason. Unknow then, known now (reasons please contact chacha and Takloo)
We’re still waiting for darshan.

Saturday,12:30 am, Temple
Darshan time.
We scramble in the stampede to get darshan. Its just some 9 seconds of viewing the magnificent lord in his chamber, but the darshan was worth all the waiting. Defintiely.
We move out of the temple and have dinner at a place that’s ready to kick us out in any moment. I don’t blame them. It is really late.

Saturday, 2am, bus-stand
We move to the bus stand there and do what we do best.
Wait.
This time, we re really bugged as its night, its dark, we’re tired and we have no roof above our heads…waiting isn’t exactly what we like doing now though we’ve gained enough expertise in it.
Some try to sleep..some continue playing an exciting word game (I like word games J )while some just stare into space…wondering if there is a bus that’s going to pick us up after all.

This was taken that night when no one even bothered to look at the cam :)




3:30 am, in bus-stand
That’s it. No more waiting. Some action here please…so Sahil/Chacha/someone goes to a nearby public hall so that we can rest in it while we wait. We all rest and almost sleep.

3:40am
Pradeep arrives. Talk about perfect timing.
On our way to Salem, then on to Yercaud….yaahoooo!!!!!!!

Satuday, 9am, in Pradeep
We’ve left Andhra and are at some place in Tamil Nadu I’ve never even heard of before. (Yes I’m a Tamilian, not further questions )

I wake up to see a load of people still sleeping in the bus. Chacha apparently hasn’t had a wink of sleep all night.
Poor fellow…. This guy ‘s an organizer all the way. Peedee,Veena ‘n I promptly leave to the wash-rooms in the bus-stand nearby and later realize, that was a futile waste. I cant brush my teeth there and that fact disturbs me to a great extent.

The bus moves from there VERY VERY slowly…and soon breaks down.
Fine, no problem.. happens to buses, so no problem. We get down, and wait for the driver to be back.
I discover that the place we’re in is called Thirupathoor.
We call Krati (whos in Yercaud now) and tell her we’re on our way and we ‘ll be there in another 3 hours max.


Saturday, 1 pm broken down bus
After an hour of waiting the driver takes the bus and we’re off. But this time, we move MUCH slower. Sooner than later, he bus breaks down. Again.

This time we’re really pissed off. The driver begs for one more hour. JUST one more hour and he promises the bus will be ready. We comply and decide to have our lunch.

Saturday, 3:00 pm, back from lunch
We return 2 hours later..the bus is still not ready. Driver begs for 3 more hours.
Anchu ‘n I frantically call up the owner, Mr.Muthu and ask him what the hell is going on.
Krathi calls up and we tell her we’re on our way to Yercaud. :D This game really was a lot of fun.

3:30pm, near the broken-down bus
We decide to send the entire lot in a TATA Sumo to Yercaud while the 5 of us (Anchu, chacha, Takloo, Sahil ‘n I) wait beside the bus and settle things out with the driver. We’re proud for having sent the rest of the lot “safely” on their way to Yercaud.
Krathi is impatient…but we tell her its just another one or 2 hours.

After some talking, yelling, thinking and agreeing…the 5 of us decide to send the bus back to Chennai and settle the money matter once we get back to Chennai.
We get into an Ambassador which we pay a fat lump of money to take us to Yercaud.

Finally, every one s going to Yercaud.
Or, that’s what we think.

Saturday 5pm, White Ambassador
Doing some major time pass in the white Ambassador, discussing quite a few thing. Good fun.

But the climax is getting a call from the Sumo guys…saying that their gaadi just broke down and even better, their gaadi has crappy brakes.

We (the white Ambassador juntha) laugh our gutts out thinking of their fate, while we merrily move on towards Yercaud.

Saturday 8pm, WhiteAmbassador
We reach Salem ,some 1750 metres below Yercaud (which is at the hill top )
The driver stops.
And tells us we can get down.

Ambassador Juntha: ummm….why have we stopped by the way?

Ambassador Driver: Because we’ve reached the end of our journey.

Ambassador Juntha: Umm….. Mr.Driver, hello!! We paid you for Yercaud didn’t we?

Ambassador Driver: You paid me for Yercaud ‘Road’. This is Yercaud Road.
So please get down.

Ambassador Juntha: What the @#$%#%^!

After some yelling and shouting and tonnes of laughing (I think I broke a few bones laughing there) we pay that stupid driver and looked for other means to getting to Yercaud. I think I lost hope of reaching here.
Krati calls up..this time genuinely asking us if we’recoming to Yercaud. We tell her we’re on our way.




Saturday 8:30 pm, bus-stand in Salem
Finally a bus.
A bus.. that moves, a bus that wont break down, a bus that has brakes and most importantly a bus that’s taking us to Yercaud. Aaaaaa…we’re a happy lot. Meanwhile the Sumo people are luckily on their way despite their brake-less gaadi.


Saturday 11 pm, Yercaud, hill-top
All of us meet at Yercaud. Sumo guys, Ambassador guys and Krathi. (Krathi along with Dhari and Shreyans)

Aaaah….finally!!!!
Hooooorrraaaay!!!
Everybody has something to say about the journey. Krati is thrilled. She’s waited the most. (14 hours to be precise).
We have a camp fire.
It rocks. Biggggg time!!! One of Sahil's rare appearances ;)





Next day.

Sunday, 9 am, Yercaud
We leave the cottage and have breakfast. The mini-van we’ve arranged for is such a darling. It takes us to places all over Yercaud without absolutely any trouble.
It doesn’t break down, it didn’t demand for extra money, it doesnt crash.
We have a mind-blowing time in Yercaud.
Trekking was just A-W-E-Some!!!!
Krathi leaves with her friend. The rest of us carry on.

I’m not gonna say much about the trekking part as I feel the photographs will do more justice J
(but just one thing though…a big thank you for those guys who helped me all the way up to the farthest point in the trek. It felt magical for having made it that far..Naveen,Raman,Chirag,Shreyans and the rest…couldn’t have done it without you guys!)


(At the top. No we arent lying down :D)



Sunday 6pm, Salem
We’re done with Yercaud and we’ve all made it to Salem in one piece.
The journey downwards exposed the Yo! side of Nikhil Ravi.

His Eminim-style rap ‘Dono maja karengae’ rocked….. though I had to get all that translated by Tosh later ;)


We have to bid the Blore guys good-bye. That’s is the tough part. But the tougher part is yet to come.
Arranging for transportation to Chennai was not going to be easy at the eleventh hour.
Running around here n there..to the Railway station n stuff deprived me of a chance of saying a proper good-bye to the Blore folks.
All of you…u guys rocked yar…serisously!!
PayDay…sweetie, you’re a chocolate!

8:30 pm
Sahil, Anchu n I run frantically to the railway-station to book tickets…found them, paid for them… done! We’re gonna go ta Chennai, confirmed…hooooray!!!!!!!

Monday morning, we bid some of the Bombay guys farwell…I was incapable of being too senti then because of the tension for finding a decent means of transportation to Anchu s flat.
Love you guys!!


I stop here.
(I hear a sigh of relief but let me just pretend like I didnt hear that.. ;))
This was indeed a very long mail and I really appreciate it if you read it this far.
If you didn’t, no problem, I still love you guys no less ;)

I look back at the last 96 hours and I wonder in bedazzlement at the dynamic-factor in life and the enormity of unpredictability it has in store for anyone who is willing to accept it as it comes.

What I learnt or rather inferred, was that there are some things in life we have absolutely no control over what so ever, and in such cases we just have to patiently watch the turn of events – you’ll be amazed at the way things turn out when left to themselves.

It just goes to show that good times are not about what you do, when you do or how you do it; but just the people you share your moments with.

And now as I type this on my lappy listening to Roobaroo from Rang de basanthi with a smile on my face, I have a feeling of content and deep satisfaction that I have quite a bank of memories to dwell upon for some time to come and that I have some fabulous people to share them with.





Love you guys.
More than ever
Mayth!!