Scribbles of a Creative Soul

My new address

2009-10-07T13:13:00.002+05:30

I have shifted to my new blog and hope to see all my old readers there. Do visit, stay on, say Hello, comment, criticise and be with me in this new journey. However, this blog will remain in the web, albeit silent.

These are a few of my latest addictions

2009-07-21T19:41:00.008+05:30

Scrabble on Facebook

I always loved this board game, but ever since I have discovered Scrabble on Facebook, I am completely hooked. Its a different thing that I lose most of them but it gives me a great adrenaline rush amidst other mundane stuff. I usually set the timer at 1 day, but whenever I am relatively free, I play games with a timer of 5 mins, which is the most competitive. I remember that last summer I was hooked onto another word game on Facebook called TextTwirl, an addiction which I caught from my team members during an internship, and kept on playing it for quite sometime.

My number one latest addiction is Scrabble on Facebook.

Sach Ka Samna

The Indian version of "Moment of Truth" is an exciting show, which has me in front of the TV set everyday from 10-30 to 11 pm. I didn't think that Indian audience could accept it with the kind of sensibilities that we have, but its great to see people talking of everything starting from sibling rivalry, alcoholism to extra-marital affairs, children out of wedlock and what not. Its rumoured that many celebrities refused to be a contestant in this game show and till date I have only seen 3 TV actors (including Urvashi Dholakia and Raja Choudhury, better known has Sweta Tiwari's husband) and Vinod Kamnbli, among celebrities, appear on the show.

No one won the top prize in the "Moment of Truth", so it will be interesting to see if any one here wins the one crore jackpot.

I wonder why this show fascinates me. May be, listening to people bring their skeletons out of the closet among near and dear ones, is a very different form of voyeurism, enabling a peek into other's private lives, which is what makes it an addiction.

Sach ka Samna is my latest addiction number two.

Bhaskar Bharti

Ok, I know this mindless serial of Sony is a remake (or copy?) of the hit Argentine show Lalola, it has a very stupid storyline of how a man transforms into a woman and how his life transforms, it is only time pass show, but - it is a good comedy. I especially love watching Ragini Khanna who depicts a man trapped in a woman's body. Her man-like walking and talking is what gives some of the light moments of the serial. The additional attraction is checking out her super cool clothes (reminds me of the time I used to watch "Gossip Girl" only to check out high-end fashion of the west). But I wonder how a man trapped in a woman's body, who reportedly hates girlied stuff like visiting the parlour, has started wearing short stylish dresses right from the begining!! But, as I said, it is anyways a mindless show, but hey fun to watch....

Bhaskar Bharti is my latest addiction number three.

Who took my Pass Certificate?

2009-07-02T17:21:00.002+05:30

While arranging all documents for my enrollment at the Bar Council, I suddenly realised that I do not have the Pass Certificates for both my Board examinations with me. My initial reaction was that of denial and shock. After I have searched my whole house twice, I agreed that indeed I have neglected to collect my Pass Certificates from both my schools. I desperately needed my ISC Pass Certificate for my enrollment and I wondered what I should do.

Whoever I asked, told me that the school will give me an earful for being so stupid. Moreover, people were of the opinion that I might not get them after so many years. But desperation led me to try my luck with my alma maters.

I said a silent prayer and first called up The Future Foundation School for my ISC Certificate. I asked a Mr. Chandan Pal in the office whether I would get my Certificate. With a calm in his voice, he told me "Yes, You will have to come and collect it". Then I told him that I have passed out in 2004. He assured me and said that there would be no problem. I kept the phone down and silently mouthed "Hurrah"!

Next, I called up Gokhale Memorial Girls' School. We were issued our Pass Certificates along with our Mark Sheets, but it carried a wrong date. We had all returned them and were supposed to receive new ones. But I forgot to collect the new Certificate. Here, the female who had answered, was a little gruff. She told me that I will have to apply to the Head Mistress and then collect it another day. I reminded with a little trepidation that I passed in 2002. This proved to be of no consequence again. :-)

I heaved an immense sigh of relief. I am glad to think that I will get both my certificates. But in the whole process, I will do something that I have been wishing to do for quite sometime - visit my old schools once again.

The "Ad" phenomenon on Indian Television

2009-05-23T11:01:00.004+05:30

After reading a post by a friend here, I decided to list my fav ads seen on television since the time I started watching TV!

Cadbury's Dairy Mil - Kya swad hain zindagi ka (esp the old one where a cricketer hits a six off the last ball and his wife dances into the field, now I totally love "Khush hain jamana, aaj pehli taarikh hain, meetha hain khana - reflects my sentiments best)

HDFC Pension Plan - Na sar jhuka hain kabhi

Sundrop Refined Oil - "Jalebi" and that ad where the boy makes his way through giant sized puris and finally somersaults into his mother's arms (used to make me wish I could somersault like him)

Hutch-Vodafone - all the ads with that cute pug and now those adorable ZooZoos. I also like the little girl who features with the pug.

Lux soap - the ads which protrayed the sensuality and beauty of women through the gorgeous heroines of Bollywood and the feminine (may I dare use the word) side of King Khan.

Amul Doodh - Roj peeyo doodh (though I never complied with this message)

I especially dislike the following ads:

Amul Macho - Yeh toh bada toing hain! (I understand portraying female sexual desire but how? washing your man's UGs with passion? ugh!! The latest one where male species is depicted as the weaker sex is also not done in the best taste)

Fair and Lovely - simply for re-inforcing the age-old demand for fair-skinned damsels

Axe Deodorants - The Axe Affect, prepare to get assualted (all of them and esp the one where thousands of bikini-clad women run after one man)

I can't think of any more now. Will update as and when I like/dislike any advertisement. Comments and suggestions are most welcome.

Memoirs of those five years - I

2009-05-16T10:03:00.007+05:30

Every now and then, flashes of memories come to me, inducing in me a curious state of daydream. It seems just the other day that I had jumped with euphoric joy having qualified in the merit list of NUJS. I was in the midst of my ISC Board Exams, with my most dreaded subject scheduled for the next day - Chemistry. The feeling of a dream come true is unparalled. I also knew that I had saved myself a lot of worries by cracking the first ever entrance test that I wrote. I thought that the rest of my Boards would go for a toss, but thankfully my grades were good.

Those few months after my class XII Boards were pure joy. Leisurely happiness, mixed with eager anticipation for the new life kept me quite busy. I still remember the first day - 31st May 2004. I came for the Orientation Programme with my parents, where I was too busy looking around and hence didn't pay much attention to thethen Vice-Chancellor Prof B S Chimni warning us about the heavy workload to be encountered from from day one. I was allotted room 103 in the hostel, the first of a number of such rooms made home by me. After settling me comfortably in my room, my parents returned and for the first time, I spent the night away from them.

Those first few weeks of law school were terrible. I had absolutely no idea of what was happening around me in and outside class. Law per se was till then absolutely foreign to me, having prepared almost zilch for the entrance test. So it was scary seeing those guys in class rattling off all answers, having gone through coaching from LST etc. They all seemed very confident and knowledgable about the courses and I felt that I was extremely dim-witted!

A subject which I particularly struggled with was Economics. The two semesters packed in a whole lot of fundamentals within limited class hours. Coming from a science background and having no aptitude for it, god only knows how I managed to pass.

I still remember how shocked I was to hear the teacher talk of homosexuality, romance, gay rights and what not, openly in class. Slowly, my conservative perspective changed and I stopped being shocked at the frankness of law school.

Ah! how can I forget that sad incident of having to cut my long hair short. Since the time I stopped being a complete tomboy with cropped hair, I have always worn my hair at least mid-back length. It was the most favourite of myself. The Salt Lake water of NUJS hostel wreaked havoc with it and I started losing my precious possession in no time. I got it cut shoulder length and since then I have never tried growing it any longer. Reason? Well, it so turned out that it suited me! So much for those initial pangs of loss!

And then there were those "positive interaction" sessions with seniors in hostel. It's never called ragging in NUJS; and rightly so. They were fun and great ways to know our seniors. Though I myself can't forget the fact that I was asked to sing Kokhon tomar asbe telephone infront of everybody. Surprisingly, all of them endured it very bravely :-)

As I write this now, I remember how I asked a teacher which year she belonged to! She must have been extremely pleased to know that at her age, she looked like a student!

My first semester result was a blow. I didn't expect very high marks, considering my various distractions, but when people around me generally got much more, I felt a little sad.

The first year also gave me some great friends. It's strange how I interacted with most of my batchmates but struck a chord with only a few. Even fewer of them remained my friends for the rest of the five years of my stay in college and I will always treasure them.

The best part of my first year was thefact that we completed the first set of all five batches in NUJS. It feels great to be a part of both the start and the continuation and the end of an era.

At the end of this post, I just feel I relived the whole of 2004-2005 in a span of 20 minutes.

Introspection

2008-11-07T19:13:00.002+05:30

Its surprising

How everything has gone wrong

And I know that I have been a mistake

All that I do and say are my faults

And its too late to rectify

When friends are they who have left me

To bring a change in me

Leaving me to wonder where I went wrong

Why do I fail to judge people?

And end up so horribly bruised?

Why am I misunderstood so much?

And then blamed for what I never meant

May be all that I believe in

Are just illusions

I hurt people and end up hurting myself manifold

But I still remain the heartless bitch

Who plays with emotions

And makes fun of others

But then why am I the one

Who is always betrayed

And vilified and maligned?

If I am asked to change today completely,

Leaving behind the 'me' of all these years,

Does this mean that my life till now is a mistake?

I just wonder now

How long can I endure the fact

Of being the most flawed person on earth?

31st May 2008...to be remembered for days to come

2008-11-07T13:56:00.008+05:30

We were all waiting for the day to come - 31st May 2008. It was going to be our last day in Bombay and of our two-and-half months long internship - and an ending to our homesickness.

We also welcomed this day in style. On our last day in office i.e 30th May, we collected our respective certificates and cheques and met up in the Chowpatty Beach. We sprawled over hired mats, savoured pav bhaji and generally gossipped till mid night when the policemen came to drive people out of the beach.

I had a few plans for the morning of 31st. I badly wanted to visit the National Gallery of Modern Art for the photography exhibition of Raghu Rai. It was my 3rd photography exhibition in Bombay and the one most eagerly awaited. But before that, I joined my friends for a breakfast at Kyani's Cafe and was left astounded by the experience.

Highly recommended by our foodie friends, we reached this 100 years' old Irani Cafe with lots of expectations. Sadly, whatever we ordered for was not available. So our dreams of an authentic Iranian breakfast were dashed to pieces. Add to that a quirky waiter who, when asked why we had been served two pieces of sheekh kabab instead of four pieces of shammi kebab, he replied totally nonchalantly 'do ko kaat lijiye, chaar ho jayega!!!' Now I dont know whether he was just being ignorant of the fact that he has misunderstood our order or was trying to be plain and simple cheeky.

The same waiter also had the audacity (or, innocence?) to bring a chocolate cake and a chocobar icecream when asked for 'chocolate cake with chocolate icecream!!! He surely has some more learning to do in the trade of waiting and serving.

That apart, I liked the sausage, kulfi and the Irani chai served in stained cups (whew).

With our stomachs full, we headed towards NGMA in Colaba. I fell in love with the Gallery and more so, with the collections on display. I always wanted to see the masterpieces of Raghu Rai, like his photographs of Satyajit Ray, Mother Teresa, Bal Thackeray, Bhopal Gas Tragedy, naga sadhus at Kubh Mela, the classic old man with child photo and especially his photos depicting my most favourite city Kolkata. It was a memorable morning, rounded off by a documentary on the man himself.

Our next POA was having lunch at Rajdhani Thali. We have heard a lot about its lunch thali which have been recommended by the same foodie friends. We still had some faith left in them and so decided to check it out.

What we were totally unprepared for was the pocket pinch. The thali was priced at Rs. 190/- plus taxes per person! and it consisted of Gujrati vegetarian fare. The hard core non-veggie in me could not believe that she would have to shell out so much for something which had no meat!

We were promised unlimited supply of authentic (again!) Gujarati fare and since they had started serving the startersthe moment we sat down, we had no choice but to accept our fate.

[Inportant rule in restaurant business: Start serving as soon as the customers are seated. If it is something like thali and the customers are as idiotic like we were, they would never refuse it in fear of being dubbed rude or unsavvy]

Well, I won't say I didn't like the food. The problem with it was we never understood the names of half the things on our thali, despite asking the waiters repeatedly. And beyond a point, we could not act like fools any more than what we already were made out to be.

The most important part of the deal was 'unlimited' serving. We all went on a mission of stuffing ourselves like crazy, only to make good of the 190 bucks. But trouble started when we decided we have had enough. The over-friendly and over-hospitable waiters decided to be over-nice and continued piling food on our thalis. They kept on saying 'Ek aur lijiye na', 'Bas ek aur, mere khatir (!), 'Yeh akhri phulka, Ek aur vada' and we kept on nodding our heads profusely in negation. But everytime we lost infront of their persuasiveness (like a cute waiter saying 'ek aur mere khatir'). So we stopped eating for ourselves and started eating to please them. As a result, we were over-stuffed beyond our capacity. But thankfully that didn't deter us from relishing the best Shreekhand I have ever tasted.

Post-lunch, mobility and money became a problem. We withdrew enough cash to see us through our train journey back home. And then we walked back to our hostel to shed some of the extra weight gained in the past hour. Our tickets were of Jnaneswari Express, which was due to depart at around 9-30 pm from Lokmanya Tilak Station in Kurla. So I had declared that we all should leave by 5 pm, so as to reach comfortably and finish our dinner before the train arrived.

Four of us managed to fit in our huge luggages on top and the boot of the fiat cab and started a 2 hour long journey towards the station. We reached at about 8 pm and began our routine haggle with the porter. It was then that I happened to glance at the screen and saw that the departure time for Jnaneswari Express was "20:30 hours"! Again it took some 5 seconds to dawn on us idiots that 20:30 means 8:30 and not 9:30 as we had previously thought. We quickly checked our tickets and saw that they always gave the correct timings, god only knows how and why we presumed that the departure time was 9:30 pm!

Having realised that we had only 30 minutes to board the train, we ran the entire length of the train along with the porter (who got the price he was asking for) to reach our compartment right in the begining of the platform. Of course, our plan of boarding the train first and then capturing all the free space beneath the berths for our luggages had gone waste. We could barely fit in our plus-size suitcases and had to engage in a verbal duel with a Bengali family who refused to adjust even a bit. According to the man, "I had adjusted enough when I was a student, now that you are students, you should also learn how to adjust"!!!!! The other co-passenger was a young guy, again Bengali, who alone had some 4 pieces of luggage with him because he was shifting. No amount of pleading and fluttering of eyelashes by four young girls helped with any of them.

By this time, two of my friends had bought some puri-sabji for dinner and once the train started, we settled down to eating and discussing how close we had come to missing our trains. "Eventful day", somebody said. But the best (or, I should say worst) was yet to come.

We had got e-tickets for ourselves and the friend, in whose name they were booked, was carrying the attested photocopy of her voter ID card. She didn't ask for her original from home in fear of losing it. Now, that was the biggest and costliest mistake, as we realised when the ticket cheker declared our tickets as INVALID.

"Invalid?" we asked dumbfounded. "What does that mean?"

"It simply means that since the identity of the master passenger is not proved by the photocopy of the voter ID card, this e-ticket holds no value. You have to pay the prices of the tickets right now."

"Rs. 1500/- per ticket? We are not even carrying that much cash on us!"

"Then get down at Bhusaval."

Now that was the last straw. We tried all sorts of arguments - ethical arguments on the lines of how-can-you-make-4-young-girls-get-down-at-an-unknown-station-at-11-in-the-night, legal argument like its-nowhere-written-that-attested-photocopy-is-not-valid (bad argument, never even try) and logical ones like why-can't-we-pay-at-Howrah? etc. Well, of course none of them held ground since we were at fault. But what was irritating was the unrelenting attitude of the TTE and the way he treated us like criminals. Read a story here where a similar incident had happened. It raises similar concerns about this stupid rule of indentity verification.

A frantic call was made to one of our friends, whose uncle was in the Western Railways. It so turned out that he was also boarding the same train from Kalyan, and was with his uncle at that moment. We were instructed to keep the TTE busy till 9-30 pm when the train would reach Kalyan station.

Our knight in shining armour came in the form of the uncle, who boarded the train to persuade the TTE and remained in it till 11 pm! After hours of coaxing and cajoling, that beast of a TTE agreed to let us off. He told our friend that during subsequent checkings, the identity will not be verified again in all probability. But in case some smartass TTE asked for it, she should pretend to have lost it. It would not matter too much since the first TTE had already verified it.

We did sleep soundly through the night. But another moment of agony arrived with the arrival of the second TTE next morning. Our heartbeats stopped the moment he stood before us and asked for the ticket. But luckily for us, he didn't ask for indentity verification. It seemed as if we were bloody criminals, travelling without tickets.

So much within a span of 24 hours! May be my bad luck, carried from Delhi, had affected all of us here. But most remarkable was what our friend (whose uncle saved us) remarked wisely before the TT in order to impress him (or may be to distance himself from fools like us) "Main apna chaddi aur voter ID card kabhi nahi bhoolta hoon!" Whew! How gross! and the TTE nodded in agreement!

______________________________________________

Small trivia: Among the four of us, one was travelling on someone else's ticket, to avoid the hassle of cancelling the same, and another was a Bangladeshi passport holder. Had these facts come out before the TTE then, we would have been history!

Bombay : Sanjay Gandhi National Park et al

2008-11-06T19:56:00.000+05:30

It took us a lot of will power and collective strength to get over our office fatigue and laziness to set off for Boriveli at around 7 am one Saturday. A 45-minute train journey and a short auto ride later, we found ourselves at the gates of the Sanjay Gandhi National Park. A long walk ensued, which brought us face to face with a herd of lovely deer. We bought tickets for the lion and the tiger safari and boarded a bus, whose windows were all covered with wire nets. The safari was of extremely short duration and showed us tigers in cages!!! The fact that the lions were freely roaming reminded us that we were not in a zoo but a National Park.

After satisfying our mid-day hunger with chips, fruits and cold drinks, we took a bus to the Kanheri Caves, situated within the National Park. There are 109 Buddhist caves, cut by hand from the living rock of a 1500 feet high ravine in the 2nd to the 9th century AD. Inside the caves, there were colossal Buddhas, more than 20 feet tall, an 11-headed Bodisattva and even a nagaraja, an ancient pre-Buddhist serpent king guarding the most famous Buddhist chaitya hall

"Kanheri" is derived from the word 'Khaneri' meaning black mountain. The presence of these caves prove a well-organised existence of a Buddhist establishment, with connections to other trade centres like Sopara, Kalyan, Nasik, Paithan and Ujjain.

It was another Saturday morning, when we decided to visit the famous Siddhivinayak Temple in Dadar. It was a long queue before the temple and when we finally managed to reach inside, we were whisked away before we even realised! We could not even see properly, the smiling face of Lord Ganesha, who is depicted her with four arms bearing a lotus, an axe, modakas and a garland of beads, flanked by his consorts Siddhi and Riddhi!

Another place of interest which I always planned to visit but could never make it is the Haji Ali shrine. This time I was determined not to miss it, more so because I used to pass it every day on my way to office. One Sunday, I reached the Haji Ali Juice Centre, famous for selling a glass of juice for Rs. 100/- (!) and started my walk towards the island, where the shrine is situated. The walkway, which connects the shore to the shrine is the only way to reach it and can be used only during low tides. The structure inside has white, typical Mughal domes and minarets.

There are two local legends which claim to trace the Hazrath Haji Ali's antecedents. One story has it that Haji Ali was a rich, local businessman who gave up materialism after a visit to Mecca and then took up meditation. Another legend says that he was an Afghan mystic who lived and meditated here. He specifically ordered that after his death , his casket should be cast off into the sea off the shore of what is today Pakistan. However, the casket surfaced intact at the spot where the shrine is today.

The whole place was crowded and with people of all religion. I even overheard a man talking over the phone saying "Main Haji Ali Mandir mein hoon!!!" What he was doing there was spending a few private moments with his lady love, sitting on the rocks of the island. And I wonder who he was speaking to over the phone.

I missed out on going to Alibaug, Matheran and Lonavla with my friends because I was rotting in Delhi at that point of time. But I am sure there is a second time.

Summer of '08 Part II - Bombay

2008-10-29T16:40:00.001+05:30

The latter part of my summer this year was spent interning at a law firm in Bombay. I put up with my friends at the Pandita Ramabai Girls' Hostel on Grant Road, a few minutes away from Chowpatty Beach and Marine Drive. Though it was not exactly luxury, but coming from my Delhi hostel, it was the best that I could ask for.

My office was situated at Worli Sea face, and just beside the sea! The associates used to take their smoke breaks enjoying the cool sea breeze! Even we, interns used to spend some 15 minutes everyday in the evening there, relaxing and soaking in the scenic atmosphere.

This was the first time I was staying in Bombay for some 5 weeks. Last time I was here as a tourist for just 1 day, I had spent it by visiting places like Taraporewala Fish Aquarium, Hanging Garden, Iskon temple etc (!). So this time, I was determined to spend my time doing more fruitful sight seeing, well apart from my internship.

After-office hours were usually spent by all of us in Marine Drive, if we happened to get off early at 8 pm. It was so spectacular that the sleeping poet in me woke up just in time to pen a few verses on it. Even every weekend, if we were in the city, we would invariably be in Marine Drive, followed by dinner at new places.

We tried out the 5 Spices outlet at Fort, a wonderful Chinese restaurant and absolutely loved it. 5 of us ordered just 2 main courses but still we ended up over eating! And giving the delectable desert spread here a miss is almost a sin. Another of our favourite place was the roadside joint Bare Mia. I tried out beef for the first time there only because it was the cheapest on the menu and didn't like it too much. It used to be crowded always, with people dining on the pavement and even inside their cars!

We had also planned on a Chocolate Avalanche experience in Cafe Mocha. When we finally managed it, what we still remember is the bill and not the heavenly taste of chocolate! We were charged 31% tax on the total amount, mentioning just 'local taxes' and without a breakup! It burnt so deep a hole in our pockets that we had to go for a light dinner that day.

In comparison, Gaylord at Churchgate proved to be superb value for money, where we had our pick from an amazing choice of croissants, cakes and pies.

But our all-time favourite remains the Naturals, an ice cream parlour on the Marine Drive which serves ice cream prepared naturally from real fruits. The mango and the kala jamun flavours are must tries here. We also dropped in at Italiano Gelato on Marine Drive but being poor students with light pockets, could not savour their variety of flavours much! But we did get a taste of heavenly dark chocolate there!

We also checked out the famous Cafe Mondegar and Cafe Leopold's at Colaba Causeway, but not being beer lovers, didn't find them any special. Food here was ok and we usually preferred other places like Cafe Ideal on Marine Drive due to an overwhelming number of hippie foreign tourists in Mondy's and Leopold's.

Another of my favourite place was Pizzeria on Marine Drive. I tried both the stuffed and the thin crust pizza there and found them absolutely mouth-watering! Someone rightly told me that their pizza was the best. I loved them more so, because I did not have to pay a penny for them! Mt friends were treating me on both the occassions :-)

Though I swear by Phuchka and Golgappas, the Panipuri of Mumbai could not win my heart. And despite being in the danger of being bashed up by the Maharashtra NavNirman fanatics, I must say that the famed Bada Pav of Bombay seemed very ordinary to my palate.

And I must also say that I have never had such horrible and pathetic tasting biriyani anywhere. We didn't try it at an expensive place but even in normal restaurants, it was always a mistake to order biriyani. And coming from Calcutta, where roll is considered a staple junk diet by all, I could not digest the roll here, being offered at a price of Rs. 90/- and that too, in a wrap made of wheatflour!

In conclusion, the city just could not satiate the foodie in me. However, for a different opinion, this post is a must-read.

The Summer of '08 [definitely, not the best days of my life]

2008-10-24T17:12:00.000+05:30

How many things can go wrong within a span of two and half months? One, Three, Five, Ten?...well, start counting as I reminisce what happenned to me this summer of '08.

It was an all-important summer for me. I had just finished my 4th year at law school and was slated to start my corporate internship at two law firms. It was going to be my first major corporate internship and my recruitment chance was going to depend majorly on these summer internships. Moreover, I was to make that choice of which law firm I intend to finally end up at.

My first internship was at one of the leading Delhi law firms, which was to start exactly 4 days after my end-semester exams ended. Barely out of my exam hangover, there I was, in a Rajdhani Express, all alone, saying a tearful good bye to my parents, whom I was not going to meet for the next two and half months! After an extremely boring train journey (I mean, without any cute co-passenger) I landed up the next day in Delhi, my most favourite city after Kolkata.

My accomodation was already fixed at the Shakti Young Women's Hostel at 7/17, East Patel Nagar. My dad had previously gone to Delhi for official work and had paid in advance to reserve a room for me there. The owner Mrs Shakti Ahuja turned out to be a matronly figure with a kind face. Little did I know then, that I was to experience first hand and much to my misfortune, the age old adage, which warns that 'looks can be deceptive'.

As soon as I landed up at the Hostel, I was asked to pay up the rest of my charges, which turned out to be Rs. 7,500/- in all. I requested her to let me settle in my room, but she refused to budge. It was already 2 pm and I was dying for a shower and lunch. So I paid her up and followed the servant to my room.

My room for the next 5 weeks turned out to be on the top of the roof and extremely tiny with barely space for a single bed and an almirah. The loo was the dirtiest that I have ever seen in my life and beat the one that I had encountered the previous summer in a government hostel in Delhi. The inmate of the neighbouring room also warned me about frequent thefts that occur in the hostel and advised me to keep my stuff always locked. She also asked me to verify with the owner whether the facilities that are being provided to me are covered within the amount paid, since she is known to extract extra fee for electricity bill, mattress, gas etc, even after promising that these would be provided for free!

Now, I was almost at the verge of going into a depression. I already knew that I had to provide my own food, my room was the size of a servant's quarter in any affluent Delhite's house and I had discovered that there were just 3 dirty loos for some 40 odd women!

Added to my woes was the fact that it was the Holi week in Delhi, which means random people would throw water balloons from their houses, bikes, cars etc at me anywhere on the street. I learnt the art of navigating my way through the maze of raining water balloons to and from my office for one whole week, without once getting drenched. Really, the Delhiwallahs have a strange and pervert sense of humour when it comes to Holi.

I have always been a regular once-in-the-morning-and-once-in-the-evening tea person. If I went without my cups of tea, I used to end up with a headache. During my stay in Delhi, I realised that habits are not unbendable, since I used to have my first cup of tea from the vending machine in office at 9:30 am. I learnt the all-important lesson to forsake my favourite cup of freshly brewed tea and much more in that one summer.

My office was an amazing place and the sole reason why I didn't lose my sanity in that hell hole of an acco. Every day, I used to wake up, get ready and immediately start off for office at 8:30 am, though my office hours did not start before 10 am. I spent exactly 15 minutes in commuting by Metro and used to spend the initial hours by checking mail and other personal stuff. My offical out-time was 7:30 pm but I tried to be as late as possible so that I could eat and go off to bed fast. Wow! what a daily routine!

Weekends were spent in going to a certain book seller at Connaught Place, who would sell me books at a cheap price and also return half of the consideration if I returned the book later. Thanks to him that I was never bored for a moment. Thriller, romance, philosophy, comedy - he provided me with a variety of books, which were the best companions I could ever ask for in my moments of solitude.

But my worst days in Delhi came in sucession in one particular week of my stay. One day, during lunch hour, I dropped my phone just outside my office, which plummetted some three storeys below, landed in the basement and broke into two. I went numb with shock, especially because it was my second phone and I never thought I would be able to recover it from where the pieces lay. When a helpful man got it for me, I found that the LCD screen has gone kaput. I forgot all about my lunch, rushed to Gole Market for servicing, the went again after office to collect it and, in the process, burnt a hole in my pocket.

In the same week, I lost my Titan Raga watch in the Delhi Metro, while commuting in the morning. It was a gift from my dad for last year's birthday. The loss was immense and something that I mourn even today.

If I thought that it was the end of my losing phase, I was sadly mistaken. On 14th April, which also happens to be the first day of the Bengali year, I returned to my hostel and found that two of my office wear - a formal shirt and a formal skirt have been stolen from inside my room through the open window. They were the best and the most expensive that I had. It also meant that I had less option for the rest one and half months of internship. Since then whenever I remember my loss, I always curse that thief in all possible language and manner. I hope she loses all her clothes, or at least the favourite ones, or something worse and more sinister than this. I wish!

After this incident, I tried to get a refund of the hostel charges for the rest of the month so that I could shift to a better place. But auntyji absolutely refused to part with a single paisa. Her motto is once money goes into her tijori it will never come out. The options were to stay on or move out with a humongous loss of money. I had to choose the first, despite having seen the conditions of that hostel. There was no security at night and any body was free to come in and go out. The eldest son of auntyji had been accused of raping a hostelite some 10 years ago and the case is still sub judice! Almost every one complained of the methods that auntyji employed to extract extra money from the girls. She lied, went back on her word, refused to reason and did everything possible under the sun to harass the hostelites. But still I stayed on, only to save the money that had already gone into waste.

By this time, my luggage has lightened considerably. With my watch and clothes gone, I have already lost goods worth five grand. I was hoping to finish off my stay in Delhi without any more losses or mishap. My loneliness had become unbearable by then. I was waiting ferevently to reach Bombay where my friends were interning. But little did I know that the worst was saved till the last moment.

I finished my internship on a Monday and was to leave the city on Saturday. On the last day, I was invited by one of my friends and went straight from my office to stay over at her place. The next day, I was to meet another friend of mine at Sarogini Nagar for shopping. At about 3 pm, I returned to my room and found that my room has been broken into and my suitcase and bag missing! Luckily most of my stuff were in the almirah, but the most important thing - my train ticket to Bombay was in my suitcase.

I still remember those moments of discovery of the theft, when I felt absolute helpless and desperate. The only person I could resort to was one of my dad's colleague, whose office was at nearby Karol Bagh. He arrived soon and had a talk with auntyji. She was difficult and refused to take any responsibility for such action. I threatened to go to the police, but she ignored me with the confidence of a person who's used to bribing the police for her son's case. However, uncle was allowed upstairs for a thorough check of the hostel, accompanied by the servant Chhotu.

May be it was God's grace or Uncle's ingenuity, that both the luggage could be recovered from under an old mattress in the adjoining roof top. My suspicion strongly pointed towards Chhotu, who sleeps in that roof every night, but unfortunately I had no conclusive proof. Uncle did not think it was safe for me to stay on in that place any more and requested me to shift to his place for the remaining 4 days of my stay.

My previous stay in Delhi last summer was simply amazing in contrast to what I faced this year. Almost everything starting from my acco, food, daily commuting, weekends, people etc went wrong this time. May be it was time for me to learn that all is not rosy away from home. May be nothing is easy if one has to survive alone in a ruthless city like Delhi, where people are waiting for any opportunity to harm you. I love my independence, but beyond a point, it does get lonely and frustrating. I always knew what I was getting into, but I never imagined that it would end up so wrong. I was immensely glad when it was time to head towards Bombay.

Much Ado about Swimming!!

2008-07-10T08:21:00.000+05:30

During my attempt at learning how to swim, I have to keep in mind the following things:

1. I have to keep my body absolutely loose

2. I have to keep my eyes open under water

3. I have to paddle with my legs continuously

4. I have to breathe out into the water

5. I have to rotate my hands without stop

6. I have to lift my head out of water to breathe in air at regular intervals

No doubt, I am struggling to do all these things simultaneously :-( My sincere thanks to my trainer Smita, who has shown loads of patience with me and occassionally also a very sharp tongue!

Evenings at Marine Drive

2008-07-10T07:59:00.000+05:30

Late in the evening, I sat

With a few close mates,

Silent, just staring at

The view beyond so great,

Of splashing waves below

And a dark blue night,

And yonder I saw

The city lit up so bright,

I sang out loud happily

Popping nuts and more,

Staring at the turbulent sea

And its endless shore,

Enjoying the blank feeling

After a long, hard day

Gruelling, but still exciting

My evenings at Bombay.

Delhi Journal 2007

2008-07-08T08:12:00.000+05:30

This is the concluding part of Delhi Journal 2007 and is divided into two parts. It was penned down long ago, but due to extremely busy schedule (or laziness?) of the author, was lying around unedited. Since I realized that it is time to post my recent experiences in summer 2008, I could not delay any longer.

Part I: In and around Delhi

Last time I had visited the capital city as a tourist, I was 2 and half years old. So I needed to freshen up my memories about the wonders offered by Delhi. It was surprising how we all managed to squeeze in sight seeing schedules in between our busy workplace routine.

The hostel where we were staying was located in Mandir Marg, so named because of the presence of a number of temples on that street. We were flanked on one side by the New Delhi Kalibari and on the other by the Birla Mandir. Visiting the Kalibari in the evening for the sandhya arti (evening prayer) became almost a daily affair, since this place, teeming with Bengalis from all over the city reminded us of our dear old Calcutta. The overwhelming chatter in my language sometimes made me forget that I was in a different part of the country. I was also privileged to witness the Basanti Puja, being celebrated here on the occasion of Ram Navami.
The beautiful Birla Mandir, constructed in 1938, by BD Birla, was a big tourist attraction, always receiving scores of desi and videsi tourists. It was a big landmark too. All we had to tell the autowallahs was ‘Birla Mandir chaliye’ and we would reach our hostel from any part of Delhi.
Another worshipping place near our hostel was Gurudwara Bangla Sahib. This sacred gurudwara commemorates the visit of Sri Guru Harkrishan Sahib Ji to Delhi in the year 1664 at the request of Emperor Aurangzeb and Mirza Raja Jai Singh of Amber. In those days, Delhi was suffering from the epidemic of small pox, which claimed many lives. Guruji, out of love and compassion dipped his holy feet in water and poured it into a tank. It is said that whoever took that water was cured of the disease. Eating at the langar of the Gurudwara along with numerous devotees was undoubtedly a memorable experience.
A quick day at the Supreme Court one day prompted my friends and me to explore the magnifient Red Fort. Its sand stonewalls extend for 2 km and vary in height from 18m on the riverside to 33m on the city side. Emperor Shah Jahan never completely moved his capital from Agra to his new city of Shahjahanabad in Delhi because he was deposed and imprisoned in Agra Fort by his son Aurangzeb. Aurangzeb was the first and last great Mughal emperor to rule from here.
Immediately upon entering through the Lahori gate (so named because it faces towards Lahore), we found ourselves in the Chatta Chowk, selling all kinds of fancy traditional stuff. Inside, we visited an Indian War Memorial Museum, which housed interesting relics from the past.
We then went to Diwan-I-Am, or the Hall of Public Audience, where the emperor used to sit to hear complaints of his subjects. The once beautifully decorated hall has now lost its grandeur, with most of the jewels being looted during the 1857 uprising. The Diwan-I-Khas, or Hall of Private Audience is constructed of white marble, whose central attraction used to be the famous peacock throne.
We also had a peek at the Moti Masjid, the private mosque of Aurangzeb. We overheard the guide explaining to a group of firang tourists that its outer walls are oriented exactly with the rest of the fort, but the inner walls are slightly askew, so that it has the requisite orientation with Mecca.

One Saturday saw us visiting the beautiful Akshardham Swaminarayan Temple, situated on the way to Noida, just beside the site for Commonwealth Games 2010. It is a magnificent structure in pink and red stone, with intricate carvings all over. A terrorist attack on the Akshardham Temple of Gujarat had prompted very tight security and stringent body frisking here. We bought a combined ticket each, which enabled us to attend the Hall of Values to witness attainment of Sahajanand (easy happiness), watch a movie screening named Neelkanth Darshan, on the life and journey of Swaminarayan Akshardham, a boat ride through the history of Indian civilization named Sanskruti Vihar and a stroll around the perfectly manicured lawns among other things. At the end of the experience, my friend rightly summed up the whole thing: “It is a religious theme park”!

Our next stop for the day was the towering Jama Masjid, India’s largest mosque. It is a fine example of the architectural extravagance of Shah Jahan. It has three gateways, four towers and two minarets standing 40m high and is constructed of alternating strips of red sandstone and marble. We were told that the impressive courtyard of the mosque could hold 25,000 people approximately at a time. The water of the tank in the middle of the mosque was being used for washing hands, feet, face and... also gurgling! (ugh)
I climbed the southern minaret along with two of my friends. The climb was an exhausting one, with people moving both ways in that small circular stairway and in absolute darkness. But the view of the Red Fort and the city from the top was breathtaking. I captured it through the lens while I perched precariously on one foot and balancing my camera with one hand. I was pointed out one of the striking features of Edwin Lutyens architecture – that the Jama Masjid, Connaught place and Sansad Bhawan are in a straight line.

The immensely broad Rajpath where the republic day parade is held always fascinated me since my childhood days when I used to watch the spectacular procession on TV. On the eastern end stands India Gate, a 42m high stone memorial arch bearing names of around 90,000 Indian army soldiers who died in World War I, the North-western Frontier operations and the 1919 Afghan War. The sprawling greenery made it a favourite headway on days of holidays, to laze around and chat with friends. It reminded me of our very own Victoria Memorial and Maidan in Kolkata.

While going to the Supreme Court, we passed the Jantar mantar everyday, but never had the chance to get down to explore. Constructed in 1725, it is one of the observatories of Maharaja Jai Singh II. It has a giant sundial and other instruments to plot the course of heavenly bodies and predict eclipses. It is definitely an outstanding example of India’s progress in science even in those days.

On April 14, we decided to celebrate Bengali New Year’s Day by visiting the Qutub Minar. This imposing tower along with the many buildings, situated in Mehrauli, date from the onset of Muslim rule in India and so reflect early Afghan architecture. The Minar is a tower of victory that was started in 1193, after the defeat of the last Hindu kingdom of India. It is nearly 73m high and tapers from a 15m diameter at the base to just 2.5m at the top. It has five distinct storeys, each marked by a projecting balcony. The first three are made of red sandstone while the 4th and the 5th storeys are made of marble and sandstone. We noticed that it had a slight tilt, but otherwise can be said to have worn the centuries really well.
At the foot of the Minar, stands the first mosque to be built in India, the Quwwat-ul-Masjid. We were surprised to find many elements of Hindu architecture in this mosque. The answer was provided by an inscription, which informed that it was built with materials obtained from demolishing 27 idolatrous temples.
The famous Iron Pillar, with a height of 7 meter, stands in the courtyard of this mosque. A 6 line Sanskrit inscription indicated that it was initially erected outside a Vishnu temple and was raised in the memory of King Chandragupta II. The marvel lies in the iron, which has not rusted even after 2,000 years and the fact that it was cast using the technology of that time. No doubt, it stands as an example of India’s glorious advancements made in chemistry and metallurgy.

Alauddin had plans for a second victory tower, which was supposed to be twice as high as the Qutub Minar. At the time of his death, the tower reached 27 meter but was not completed. The Qutub Minar complex also houses the tombs of Imam Zamin and Altamash, the magnificient Alai Darwaza and other such wonderful edifices.

I also used to pass by the Rastrapati Bhawan, Sansad Bhawan, Secretarial Buildings, all representating Delhi as the political epicenter of India. I had to give places like Humayun Tomb, Lodi Garden, Safdarjang Tomb, Lotus Temple etc a miss due to paucity of time, but definitely hope to visit them next time I am there.

Part II: Destination Agra

It was a Saturday when all eight of us had an off day at office together. We immediately decided to make a one-day trip to Agra. Little did we know then that it was going to the most memorable part of our summer rendezvous.
It was 5 am and completely dark when three of us left our hostel and took an auto for the Nizamuddin station. There we met up with our other friends, two other girls and three guys and got tickets for the Taj Express. At around 9 am, we all landed up at Agra Cantonment and realized to our horror, that Uttar Pradesh elections were being conducted in the city that very day. As a result, there was no mode of transport for us at the station. After negotiation and lots of persuasion, all eight of us squeezed in ONE ambassador car and set off for our sightseeing. Matters worsened when we started feeling the unbearable heat of 46º Celsius later in the day but had no option but to travel in that one car.
We were also informed that the whole city of Agra had been taken over by RAF to combat violence during the elections and the road to Fatehpur Sikri had been blocked. We all agreed that we could not have ben to Agra on a worse day! Despite all such odds, this trip to Agra became one of our most favourites.
Our first stop was the magnificent Agra Fort, the seat of power for most of the Mughal emperors. This massive and breathtaking edifice, built of red sandstone and marble rise over 20m in height and measures 2.5km in circumference. The gates of the fort open into an esplanade, which lead into the different mahals. The noteworthy of them are the Diwan-I-Am and the Diwan-I Khas. The latter had the peacock throne till the last great Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb moved it to the Red Fort. Another magnificent and famous part of the Fort is the Shisha Mahal. It is inlaid with tiny mirrors and was made a household name in India by the Bollywood movie Mughal-e-Azam. Unfortunately for us, it was closed for renovation then. We also visited the tiny and exquisite Nagina Mosque, which was built for the ladies of the court.
We climbed up to the Musamman Burj and Khas Mahal, the white marble octagonal towers and palace where Shah Jahan was imprisoned for 8 years and from where he could look out to Taj Mahal.
The garden Anguri Bagh, in the courtyards of the harem quarters has been restored and looked well maintained. It was the same garden where Akbar and his Rajput wife Jodhabai were shown romancing in the movie Jodha Akbar.
The huge and spectacular Jahangiri Mahal was built by Akbar for his son, and blends Hindu and Central Asian styles of architecture. In front of this mahal, there is a huge bowl, carved out of a single block of stone, which is believed to have stored water for bathing.
A quick stop at a restaurant for lunch refreshed us for the next part of the journey – the Taj Mahal. Described ‘a teardrop on the face of eternity’ by Rabindranath Tagore and ‘the embodiment of all things pure’ by Rudyard Kipling, it has evoked admiration from generations of visitors worldwide.
It was built by Shah Jahan for his second wife, Mumtaz Mahal who died giving birth to their 14th child in 1631. Its construction started in the same year and finished in 1653, using 20,000 people and spending almost Rs. 3 million.
It ornamental gardens are set out along the classical Mughal charbagh lines - a square quartered by watercourses, with an ornamental marble plinth at the centre. To the west there is a small mosque, which houses original architectural drawings of the Taj.
The raised Taj Mahal with the sky as the only backdrop, along with the four minarets are a sight to behold. We also learnt that the slightly slanting minarets were designed so that in case of an earthquake they will fall away from the Taj Mahal.
The Taj Mahal is a perfect exercise in symmetry, the only aberration being the cenotaph of Shah Jahan. The real tombs of Mumtaj and Shah Jahan are in a locked basement room and cannot be viewed by common public.
The excruciatingly hot marble badly scorched my bare feet while I tried hopping around in the Taj Mahal in the afternoon sun. After a brief relaxation in the cool shades, it was time for us to head towards the station and back to Delhi. Despite boarding the train at 5 pm with general tickets, we reached Delhi at around 10 pm sitting in the sleeper compartment! (That was achieved only after paying some 30 bucks per head to the TTE) We had dinner at a tiny restaurant near the New Delhi Railway Station and finally reached our hostel at 11 pm. None of us were carrying our cell phones, for the fear of losing money in roaming. So when we called up our respective parents that late, we all got a piece of their minds. At the end, we realized that we had toured Agra on the day of elections, with RAF all over the city, in 46º Celcius temperature and all eight of us in one ambassador. Well, that sums up our trip to Agra nicely.

Foods of Kolkata!!!

2008-04-17T11:05:00.000+05:30

Well, after writing so much about Delhi food, I decided that it would be really unfair if I, as a true Bong from Kolkata, leave out our own foodie post. But this list has not been compiled by me, I read it at http://www.palscape.wordpress.com/, a blog by a Probashi Bong, in love with his food. Even he claims that the list came to him as an email forward from some one anonymous. Now, its time I start reading all email forwards with more enthusiasm; who knew such wonderful forwards were doing the rounds!

But though it is copy-pasted, I have improvised a little according to my taste buds and added a few places here and there...So enjoy eating, er.. reading...Will keep updating...Watch out for this space...

"Snacks:-
Kabiraji Cutlet from Regent (S N Banerjee Road)
Moghlai Parota from Anadi Cabin (S N Banerjee Road)
Kosha Mangsho from Golbari (Shyambazar)
Phulkopir Singara from Mrityunjoy (Lansdowne)
Roll from Kusum (Park Steet), Iceberg (Golepark) & Nizam
Chicken Rezala from Shabbir (off C R Avenue)
Beef Steak at Oly pub with beer (Park Street)
Telebhaja from Putiram (College Street)
Daab Chigri and Chingri-r Malaikari from Kewpies (Elgin Road) and Bhojohori Manna (Hazra)
Fish Fry and ButterFish from Bengal (Behala)
Mochar Chop and Dhoka from Apanjan (Sadananda Road)
Boudir’s Lebu Cha (Deshapriya Park)
Kochuri & Tarkari from Tasty Corner (Mandeville Gardens)
Phuchka/Churmur/ Dahi Phuchka from Bilas or Boudi (Southern Avenue)

These are unmatched:
Chelo Kabab from Peter Cat (Peter Cat)

Biriyani (the best is at Arsalan, Park Circus)
Phulkopir Shingara: samosas don’t stand a chance against these.
Phuchka: gol-gappas are only my second love, mind you
Luchi: puri and phulkas - no comparison.
Alurdom: the world’s best. Try the offering at Vivekananda Park.
Jhalmuri: a unique concoction, with nothing to equal it.
Telebhaaja: these and jhalmuri are like ‘made for each other’

Chanachur: many have tried unsuccesfully to steal the formula, MNCs included!
Alukaabli: especially in Southern Avenue
Ghugni: again, chana is not the same at all. (And mangshe’r ghugni is even better)
Radhaballavi: try it with alurdom or cholar daal.
Chicken Chaanp: even Pakistani cricketers have sampled these, in Chitpur.
Rezala: (Aminia, Shiraj, Nizam etc): out of this world!
Sharbat from Paradise (Esplanade): there is one which is green, and another, pink. No college student from Presidency or the University has failed to sample these!
Mutton Afghani: an equally innovative presentation of the mutton cutlet. (Coffee House)
Coffee from Coffee House: try the float with ice cream(can tear apart others…)

The sweeter side:-

Amritti (Jalebis are no match)
Roshomalai: a creamy, mouth-watering delight!
Jilipi: smaller than the jalebis and tastes quite different.
Lal(Misti) doi: is an experience by itself!
Kamala bhog: a pale yellow orb, delicately sweetened.
Notun gurer sondesh: a winter speciality available in no other city.

Rabri: especially of Sharmas, Gariahat

Rosogolla: K C Das is the most famous brand!
Natun gurer Rosogolla: the latest innovation.
Shitabhog: pure white, sweetened to just the right extent.
Mihi Dana: golden yellow, saffron scented.
Maalpoa: rich brown pancakes, dripping in sugar syrup.
Ranga alur pithey: another traditional favourite in winter.

And a few more specialities:-
1. Aamer morobba - the best outside Gariahat market
2. Kuler achar - the best outside Gariahat market
3. Shukno mashla makha tetul - Available with the churanwalas outside all schools, much to the delight of the students and dismay of theparents !!
4. Dulaler tal mishri
5. Dulaler hojmi - mind boggling and healthy too
6. Bikrampurer kashundi - Mustard just pales next to this
7. Churmur - A mixture of potatoes, phuchka and other masalas, and unheard of in the rest of the country.
8. Muri ghonto - Defies description, a concoction of fish head and rice
9. Mochar chop - A delight even for the staunchest non vegetarians
10. Kumro phul bhaja - In tiny little food joints around Chittaranjan Avenue
11. Kada paker sandesh - A sure winner, especially the jalbhara talshansh with the liquid gur filling, which is sublime
12. Darbesh - Our own version of the laddoo
13. Bondey - a sticky sweet delicacy
14. Patishapta - A delicate crepe with a filling of coconut and gur
15. Chhanar payesh - Better than rabdi anyday and does not weigh your stomach down…"

And the list goes on.....

Delhi: A Wonderful Culinary Expedition

2007-12-17T21:40:00.000+05:30

If the sights of the city have impressed me, then the food there has bowled me over completely. Throughout my stay for 6 weeks, I made it a point to satisfy my taste buds in all possible ways, and so checked out almost all the notable eating-places.

Near the hostel where we had put up, there were these two places in Gole Market, which served a palate of delectable culinary fares at a reasonable rate. One was the Bangla Foods, where I had the best Chocolate Mousse, some amazing cocktails and bought an assortment of cookies for home. The other one was Kaleva, located just beside Bangla Foods, which stocked close to 1000 varieties of sweets, namkeens and other traditional sweetmeats. They are famous for sweets that are made in the traditional way passed on to generations for the past 500 years. But what it is famous for is its fruit-flavoured kulfis. The kulfi is frozen inside the whole fruit and is served alongside. I was simply bowled over by their variety of kulfi and chuski flavours.

Speaking of kulfi, (for the uninitiated, it is a solid chunk of thickened milk, topped with saffron, cardamom, nuts and generally, falooda i.e. rice noodles), I must mention Roshan Da Kulfi located in Ajmal Khan Road in Karol Bagh. Though it is known to be the best in the business, I somehow found it over hyped and overpriced at Rs 30 per serving.

The Connaught Place houses many eating-places in and around, ranging from a number of McDonalds outlets, fine dining restaurants, cafes, dhabas etc. Shopping at Janpath usually meant a quick bite at the ‘Mc D’, a stroll at the CP Park with friends meant mouth watering chaat alongside, while Café 100 was the restaurant where we chose to have our farewell dinner along with our room-mates of the hostel.
But two eateries of CP, which earned my eternal love was a confectionery and fast food shop called ‘Wengers’ and a shake joint called ‘Keventers’. Wenger's is the oldest name in town and still one of the pioneers of Swiss confectionery in India, with a wide range of delectable viands to offer. For the past 75 years Wenger's has maintained its standard & quality introducing new items from time to time. Wengers’ Cheese Ham Sandwich and Chocolate Truffle remain my favourite, while one MUST try out the ice-cream shakes and milk shakes of ‘Keventers’, located just beside Wengers, around the corner. The chocolate ice-cream shake was perhaps the best that I have had in my life, and scores over Baskin Robins also, which till then was my favourite.

Another place that has won my heart (rather, tongue!) is the Andhra Bhavan. Their lunch thali has been voted the best in the capital city by the Times Food Guide. The vegetarian thali worth Rs 60 served us with rice, puri, two types of sabji, one bhaji, rasam, sambar, curd, pickle, chutney and halwa. Along with this, we had ordered Mutton Fry for Rs. 40 per plate, instead of Fish curry. (Being a Bengali who’s fed fish everyday at home, I, of course preferred mutton. But I have heard that their Fish Curry is even more famous) Even after all these months, I remember what a delicious lunch it was and how full and satisfied it left me. In my opinion, this is a must-experience for foodies if you are in Delhi.
A few tips from the author:-
Before you enter the place, be warned,
1. If you're the fork-spoon-napkin type, forget it. This is as basic as it gets.
2. Carry a couple of hankies. The non-vegetarian items are S-P-I-C-Y!
3. There are no bookings. One might need to wait for 15 to 20 minutes if you don’t arrive before 1 o’ clock on a weekday.
The entire staff is from Andhra. So is 80 percent of the clientele. All the Telugu chatter can be a little overwhelming sp. for non-Andhra-ites.

Another part of Delhi, which serves mouth-watering culinary fares, is Chandni Chowk. This stretch of road houses the oldest sweetshop namely ‘Ghantewala’, which went into business in 1790. Down the centuries, it has remained in the same family and is now in the hands of the eleventh generation. There’s an interesting story behind how it got its name. Ghanta actually means a big clanging bell in Hindi. Legend goes that whenever the royal procession moved down this road, the emperor was in the habit of stopping here for a snack – a habit that his elephant acquired too. We all know how passionately fond of sweets elephants are, so of course came the day when he found the way to the shop himself. Apparently he refused to budge and kept on shaking its head until people rallied around with assorted sweets. The bells hanging from the elephant’s neck would tinkle whenever the animal went into stubborn mode and shook his head. And from there came the shop’s name – beat that! The Ghantewala Halwai is celebrated for its sohan halwa, a sweet made from dry fruits, sprouts and sugar. I was in so much love of this particular type of sweetmeat, that I went back to the place on the last day of my internship (after my senior handed me the cheque!) and bought some for my sweet-crazy mother.

There we also had amazing kesar jalebi in the famous shop named ‘Jalebiwala’. It had been a long day at the Akshardham Swaminarayan and by this time, we were raring to sit down for dinner, and what better place than the super famous Karims, located in Gali Kababian near Jama Masjid! It is one of the best non-vegetarian restaurants in all of North India, and serves exquisite, "royal" Mughal cuisine at popular prices. Once you locate and meander through the tiny passageway leading to the courtyard of Karim's, the restaurant itself is really nothing to look at. The royal cuisine so revered by generations of Delhi-ites and international epicures are served in a shabby setting that belies the delicacies on offer.

There were six of us, one being a pure vegetarian ‘Tam Brahm’. My friend and I were staying in a Working Women’s Hostel, which served only vegetarian food. So we were raring to savour the first taste of non-veg food in 3 weeks. We started off with sheek and shami kebabs, and ordered some four plates of them to share among ourselves. I ordered Keema Naan with Mutton keema and discovered heaven! My friends tried out the Biriyani along with Chicken Rezala and raved equally about them. We have had these culinary fares before, at famous restaurants in Kolkata namely Aminia, Arsalan, Shiraj etc, but that day, all of us unanimously agreed that Karims served the best of them. Are you wondering what my veggie friend was doing all the while? She waited with a bottle of Pepsi and romali roti for the plate of paneer butter masala, which never arrived! At last, we had to cancel the order and my friend came out of Karims hungry. So if you are a strict vegetarian, take her advice and ‘do not go to Karims. It is only for those meat lovers’! Well, the rest of us left with vows of another return for that ‘raan’ in the menu, which sadly, never happened for me. For those who badly want to know the pocket pinch, it was only Rs 135 per person!
It was especially for our poor hungry friend, that we rounded off our dinner treat with mouth watering halwa and gulab jamun from a nearby meethai shop. And then came paan time. It was so jumbo in size and full of so many stuff, that my friends competed to put the whole of it into their mouth at one go.

I also had lunch at Sagar Ratna, a restaurant famous for south Indian food, thanks to the junior advocate of my sir. I really loved it there, especially some unknown chutney served alongside my dosa.
Whenever we used to be out in the streets of Delhi, we always cooled ourselves with soda shikanji, and the lip smacking gol gappa. Coming from a city where all of us swear by our phuchkas, it was surprising that I actually liked the sweeter version of it in Delhi. It is tad costly, with a serving of only six pieces at ten bucks, compared to the five pieces at two rupees in Kolkata. Though a hard-core phuchka lover, I became a fan of its Delhi counterpart also.

There are places, which I could not explore. I did not try out the roadside kebabs near Jama Masjid, (my friends did not let me, due to hygiene reasons, though I was all game for it) and also the famed Khan Chacha’s Kebabs. I missed out on sipping coffee at the old fashioned Coffee Home and numerous small eateries in and around Connaught Place. Well, I know there is a second time. I can go back to Delhi again and again just to eat. Who needs any other reason?

Delhi Journo: My First Impression

2007-12-03T17:38:00.000+05:30

My workdays at Delhi consisted of either going to the Supreme Court or paying a visit to my senior’s chamber in Noida. The first glimpse of the Supreme Court left me absolutely awed. The majestic building, teeming with men (and of course, women) in black robes instantly filled me with a sense of great pride. This is the seat of justice where different lives are made or broken, laws are formulated and legends are born. During my tenure of internship, I had caught glimpses of legal experts like Mr. Arun Jaitley, Mr. K K Venugopal, Mr. Ram Jethmalani, Mr. Harish Salve, Mr. Rajeev Dhawan, Ms. Indira Jaisingh and many more. It is indeed a wonderful feeling to be able to walk alongside them in the corridors of the Supreme Court.
I was also required to attend the Krishna Water Dispute Tribunal, being heard among the States of Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka and Maharashtra. I had to take a bus from my hostel in Mandir Marg to Bhikaji Kama Place and traveled for about 1 hour, enjoying the highlights of the city. The wide roads, lined with abundant greenery were an extremely soothing sight for the eyes. I used to pass landmarks like the Parliament and the India Gate and never ceased to crane out my neck to drink in the wondrous sights.

My real woes began when I started going to my senior’s place at Noida. I had to reach Barakhamba, from where I surrendered myself to the only available bus no 355. Not only was it always extremely crowded, but also the journey lasted for more than 45 minutes. Sometimes, I hardly had space to keep both my feet. Sometimes, I desperately wished to get down even before reaching Sector 17. After braving this torturous journey in the sweltering Delhi heat for almost 30 days, I was not unhappy when my internship came to an end.

I also had my share of unpleasant experiences that come with traveling in public transport in Delhi. It is rightly said that a woman cannot be aboard a bus for 2 minutes without being felt up. I have heard many girls complaining about roving hands of Delhi male crowd, but thankfully I did not face it. What I was always putting up with was constant stares from all sorts of men everywhere. It was extremely disconcerting to find them staring at you, even at the danger of twisting their necks at a degree of 180. Most surprisingly, they never flinched if I glared back. As if staring at a woman was the most natural thing to do!

May be because of this reason and much more, Delhi buses had more seats reserved for women than what I have seen in Calcutta. But it hardly seemed to solve the problem. Men occupying the ladies seat refused, more often than not, to vacate them for a woman. I had seen two young men offering an elderly woman their lap (!) to seat instead of vacating the seat for her. A woman got barked at by a perfectly gentleman looking male, after she requested him to let her occupy the ladies seat in a particularly crowded Noida bus. I now knew why the women in Delhi never asked the male species for the reserved seats. I guess it is better standing and jostling in the crowd than get a rude answer on the face. A woman did not let her grown-up son to vacate the seat for me, saying ‘agar sab seat ladies ke liye reserved hain to bacche (!) kahan baitheyenge?’ It is not hard to guess how polite that ‘baccha’ will be towards women once he really grows out of his mummy’s pallu.
But it would be entirely wrong to assume that all men in Delhi behave in this appalling way, but this is definitely the general picture. The men used to be miffed at the scenario of reservation and cited the feminist argument of gender equality as a reason. But I feel that as long as there is no equality in the way women are treated in a crowd, then we are still a long way away for a society with no gender reservations.

Another thing about the Delhi population that put almost all of us in some kind of trouble was their sense of direction. Since we were new in the city, we had to depend a lot on the local people for information on direction. But the surprising thing is that even if they did not know, none of them admitted that and gave some kind of confusing direction! Many times it had so happened that we have been moving in the wrong way for quite sometime until someone put us in the right track. The traffic sergeants also fall in the same category. So if you are in Delhi and need help regarding direction, always go to the panwallahs, and other such small vendors. They have never failed me till date.

I should also mention my experiences as a single woman in a city notoriously famous for the most number of instances of sexual violence. As a precaution, we always returned early to our hostel and hardly ventured far once it was dark. But it was not always so for me. I took almost one and half hours to travel from Noida and more often that not, I returned late. One particular incident scared me out of my wits. One day I was caught in a dust storm, while returning from CP at about 8 pm. I was walking against the wind and could hardly see anything in front me because of the flying particles. Suddenly I found two men on either side of me whispering ‘akeli hain? chalna hain kya?’ I momentarily froze on the spot expecting the worst, but felt them brushing past me. This happened very near my hostel and god only knows, how I felt once I reached its safety.
My friend faced a nasty situation on the second day of arriving at Delhi. Her senior had arranged for a cab for her and another woman lawyer who was coming the same way. After the latter got off near Bengali Market, the cab driver informed my friend that he did not know the way to CP, let alone Mandir Marg. She reached the hostel at 9 pm after directing the driver herself using her scant knowledge of Delhi roads. There were times when she made the wrong guess and found herself in completely alien roads. But we could not help but wonder how a cab driver could not know way to one of the most important places i.e. CP.
Here, it is needless to comment on the scenario of security in Calcutta, since this journal is not about it, but I can say one thing that, there is absolutely no place called a ‘safe city’ for women. I guess that says it all.

One thing about the city, which I really loved, was the signals and marks on every bus stand and road indicating where exactly one was. We never had any difficulty in knowing which bus to take, or whether a particular bus stopped at that stand, as it was all described on the board. Also all roads had signposts spelling their names. But the rash traffic took some time for me to get used to, despite the fact that I have lived my life in one of the most crowded metros. Even in Calcutta, motorbike riders do not perform stunts (like riding on the hind wheel only) on busy thoroughfares, as they do in Delhi.

But there were some basic flaws with Delhi roads. Most often that not, they used to be plunged into darkness due to absence of streetlights (at least this was the case with the roads all around my hostel and some more). This meant that all you could see of the oncoming traffic was specks of headlights and it became difficult to ascertain how far they were, while crossing. Another inconvenient feature were the narrow dividers on Delhi roads. While crossing a road one evening, I found myself on the divider waiting for the rush of traffic in front of me to stop. A bus went past behind me with such velocity and force, that I felt almost pushed onto the road due to the impact. That memory still makes me shudder with a chill that has nothing to do with the weather around me.

But there are some things, which took my breath away, and Delhi Metro Railways is certainly one of them. Coming from a city with the oldest and first underground system, I was absolutely amazed after a ride in the Metro. May be because of the stark contrast between the ill-maintained, technologically-deficient and suicide-prone Calcutta Metro and the new, super fast and efficient Delhi Metro, I absolutely fell in love with the latter. I think the city has overcome most of its traffic problems due to this three-line underground system, which covered a wide area. Last seen, the city was working fast to extend Metro till Noida for the Commonwealth Games 2010.

So it can be said that, while I absolutely loved the sight of the capital city, the population there put me off in a big way. Be it for their attitude or their rude disposition, I would think twice before I decide to settle there permanently, if the situation so arises.

My Delhi Journal: The Begining

2007-12-03T17:28:00.000+05:30

When I had bargained for a career of law, I had not foreseen the immensely exciting opportunities that NUJS would throw at me. I had done things at college which I had never thought of, met luminaries from all walks of life, learnt nuances of one of the most fascinating and stimulating courses, and so on and so forth. But nothing can surpass the chance that a legal curriculum offers to have a glimpse at the practical aspects of law through different internships at NGOs, trial court, High Court, Supreme Court of India, firms, banks and corporations. After I had finished my third year of studies, I knew that I was in for some memorable experiences of working under a senior advocate of the Supreme Court in Delhi.

While my parents worried about me leaving Calcutta for the first time and staying alone at Delhi for 6 weeks, I happily anticipated whatever that was in store for me. The days flew by and at the end, I knew that I have acquired a new dimension to my outlook. This series of journal is to share with all, an outsider’s (or may be, a Calcuttan’s) perspective of the capital city.

Give Peace a Chance

2007-07-22T18:20:00.000+05:30

Dear earthlings,

I woke up in a shocked state
To find blood in my room
And how the thunderous noise outside
Made the morning gloom

I peeped outside and oh!
Was anything on fire?
Bright red flames danced all over
Never did they tire

Thick clouds engulfed the sky
With a complete blackness
Which my vision failed to pierce
Leaving me totally helpless

Then the answer dawned --- this was
One of those vicious wars
That you all fight for no cause
And leave each other in torns

As most of you voice against violence
I know I can hope within
You will give peace a chance
For a better world to live in

-----Love from Mother Earth

[This poem won me the first prize in a creative writing competition organised by the All-India Anglo Association in St James' School, Kolkata in 2003]

He Arrived To Her!

2007-01-05T08:34:00.000+05:30

The clock ticked away
Towards a long night
But she stared ahead
For that wondrous sight
Of her man’s arrival
After a hard fought war
She smiled to think
Of the joy in store
She waited for the moment
When he would be near
And listen to his heartbeat
Loud and clear
Her warm smile shall
End all his fatigue
And welcome him in
With a kiss on his cheek
The clock ticked away
Towards a fresh dawn
The news reached her
Not before long
That her valiant hero
Is now a martyr
Laid in a coffin
He arrived to her.

A Pilgrim's Progress!

2006-11-13T22:41:00.000+05:30

Before embarking on my first pilgrimage, I had asked myself whether this was a display of hidden traits of my spirituality. But the answer had been an emphatic “no” as we were undertaking the trip to the holy shrine of Mata Vaishno Devi, simply because it was a part of the itinerary of our Kashmir tour. But at the end of it, I was left enriched with an unsurpassed experience.

We had reached Katra, the base camp at 6:30pm after a 13 hour-long bus journey from Pahelgaon. After a quick refreshment and dinner, we were ready by 10:30 pm to embark on our journey. An auto took us from the hotel to the place from where devotees either start by foot or take a pony to the cave shrine, nestled in a beautiful recess of the Trikuta Mountains, forming a part of the lower Himalayas. We had already got slips from the Yatra Registration Counter, as without it no one is allowed through the Banganga checkpost. With great zeal, our group started the trek of 12 km, to the Holy Shrine located at 5200 ft above sea level.

The initial 3-4 km were dotted on both sides by shops of different things, ranging from ones selling sticks to facilitate the trek to the ones with display of Gulshan Kumar on cassettes of devotional songs.

It was not only we, but also hundreds of pilgrims of all ages, taking the same route to reach the holy shrine in those late hours. There were people who were undertaking the journey in barefoot or through a series of shaastaang pranams. The most dangerous part of the journey for me was the initial 9 km where ponies were also plying on the same route. I was knocked off by one and so, for the rest of the trek was extremely cautious whenever one of them was passing by me. At a point the walking trail got separated from the rest and I heaved a huge sigh of relief.
We stopped from time to time to catch our breath and give our aching legs rest. Though we were carrying only bottles of drinking water, the uphill trek left us huffing and puffing throughout the journey. We had been told not to wear leather accessories or have any plastic stuff on us, which are considered inauspicious, and were reminded every one km during the strict security check.
We saw many eateries on our way but nothing prepared us for a Café Coffee Day outlet at 3000 ft above sea level. So much for the comfort of us pilgrims!

It was almost 4:30 am when we reached the shrine. Though the weather was chilly in that height, we were hardly feeling anything after the exhausting trek. Our ordeal began when we joined the enormous throng of devotees to enter the temple. The counters to deposit shoes and cameras were quite a distant away and to top it all, they were underground. After we had descended four flights of steep stairs and fought with hundreds of pilgrims to reach the front of the counters for depositing all our belongings, we had to walk barefoot till the tail of the long queue and start a painful slow walk. The rope carpet (!) beneath our feet was wet and all of us got horrible blisters in the feet because of the sharp texture. It was almost after one hour of waiting in the queue that we witnessed the holy shrine but was swiftly whisked away.

After a quick refreshment, we started the return trip at 6 am. The pilgrims, who had reached then, were stuck there for two hours because of the morning pujas, which were being conducted. While walking up, we were enviously eying those who were returning, imagining that all the pain and breathlessness of the uphill trek would not be there then. How wrong were we! Within minutes of starting the trek, I realized that my legs were so wobbly that I had to use full force on the walking stick to prevent me from falling over. All of us were in great pain, which made it extremely difficult not to wince while putting down our feet on the hard ground. We tried to take short cuts by walking down the series of stairs but after a point of time, I could no longer fold my aching knees to do the simple act of descending down stairs.

We were so glad to be back on plain land that we readily agreed to pay the autowallahs the exorbitant rate that they were demanding. At around 9 am, we were back in our hotel rooms, trying to soothe our legs by giving hot and cold treatment. Everyone in our group was in excruciating pain of some kind or other. Those of us, who had walked up, had acquired a limp while others who had ridden a pony, were complaining of severe backache.

I could not help but recall the eventful trek and our darshan of the famous Vaishno Devi shrine and realized that my experience meant much more than the throbbing pain. It is unwavering belief that attracts hundreds of pilgrims to this place every year, but I will certainly attempt to visit it again for the sheer grandeur, serenity of atmosphere and cheerful shouts of “Jai Mata Di” that fills the air.

The Colours of My Life

2006-07-30T17:50:00.000+05:30

The bright red vermilion
On my mother’s forehead
The yellow haldi streaks
On her sari, well-faded
My father’s khaki trousers
Patched and torn
His green striped shirt
A thousand times worn
The pink frilly frock
My sister loved
The blue denim jeans
My brother never had
Such were the hues
In my world
And then it was only red
And gold all around
At last, all became black
Along my way
And all that remained
Was a fistful of ashes grey

I know it has been long since i hv put up something here...pls blame the hectic schedule of my university for this inaction...n this poem was created in 30 mins while i was trying out for 'creative writing' team selections in my college...i was pleased to see that law has not usurped my talents in verse till now...this is not exactly a good attempt but somehow i was satisfied with this piece when it finally shaped up in my mind....

One Who is a True Friend...

2006-05-26T16:44:00.000+05:30

One who walks in
When the world has been
Cruel enough to walk out

One whose firm hold
Brings hopes untold
Amidst despairs so stout

One who knows
The exact dose
To cure the pains of life

One who is there
With every thing to spare
For your worth and strive

In you who believes
And a trail he leaves
In your life forever

One who smiles
To light up the miles
Even in the darkest weather

Never does he forsake
And a difference he makes
In whatever you have been

On whose shoulder you cry
And words you rely
And confess all your sin

One who never bothers
His friend's ill manners
And accepts you as you are

Corrects your wrong
And makes you strong
At times which leave you scars

One whose touch
Soothes so much
While sharing all your sorrow

Walks hand in hand
As a true friend
Towards a better tomorrow

The Last Wish

2006-05-21T11:27:00.000+05:30

[Created in 1 hr in the English Creative Writing Competition at the M.P. Birla Smarak Kosh, in 2001, this is one of my early attempts at short story. Though my style of writing has changed over the years, I have retained the language in which I had first written it.]

Cimmerian Darkness all around
No light shown for me
I yearned for a stop somewhere
But no signal shown to me

Ebony black darkness surrounded me like a thick cloak, which my vision failed to penetrate. I never comprehended that the path would be so long, narrow and derelict. The asphyxiating environment nearly chocked me and I longed for an end to this uncanny silence. Now I wished I had not embarked upon this never-ending journey. I could endure no more and stopped.

-Hello! We are going out to watch that latest movie in town. Want to come?
-Oh! No. I am sorry.
-Hey, why not? Everyone’s-
I put down the receiver without waiting for her to finish.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-Hi! This tinkle is only to remind you of my birthday bash next Saturday.
-Please excuse me. I am very sorry but I am…I am, well, out of sorts.
-You have a week’s time. You’ll certainly recover by then, won’t you?

Being unable to find an answer I slammed down the receiver in utter despair. How could I tell him that I was at a complete loss. Life was playing a cruel joke on me. All my peers were having a gala time after the Board Examinations. But I confined myself to my own world, kept my friends at an arm’s length and shed tears of repentance. I tried to ignore the situation but those sinful moments haunted me day and night.

Darkness seemed to have faded a little. A faint light showed my path ahead. My inner soul responded and cried out ‘Mother’! I spoke out aloud, ‘I am sure you would never abandon me. Please Mother, I can bear this no more. I had put my heart and soul in my studies to fulfill your last wish, - the wish which you had nurtured in your mind since my birth. You had always wanted me to be a topper. Aren’t all those trophies in music, dance and fine arts, occupying six shelves of the living room results of your ambition, which you implemented through me? Yes, I have always kept your word. I have been excellent in everything that I have done.

Even when you wanted me to beat all the spectacled intellectuals in class, I stayed up late at night and woke up before the sun to achieve your goal. Yes, Mother, it was your ambition, not mine. I wanted life, but you refused to give it to me. You enjoyed telling every one around that I was a topper, but I felt disgusted in front of their stare mixed with bitter admiration.

Your last wish was surely a death sentence for me. Didn’t you know that there would be thousands of toppers from schools all over the state in the Final Board Examinations? But still you wanted me to top the merit list! I thought I would rebel but your cancer-stricken face prevented me. You had pinned your last bit of faith in me and left.

Mother, I know I have deceived you. I have committed a sin, which have shattered your trust. I desperately wanted to make your dream come true, but I could not gather enough confidence. I had all the world’s happiness when newspaper headlines flashed my name – but my conscience cried. My sufferings increased all the more and became too heavy to live with.

Life had given me everything and I lost all of them. I have no complaint against you, Mother, as I know that your efforts in making me a topper was the only way to fight those who sighed at your girl child. The last thing I want to do is to cry in your arms. At the end of this road, I know that I will meet you. I can see the light, which will erase all blackness. Are you there to receive me with open arms? Please, Mother, grant me my last wish.

The Violence Within

2006-05-14T11:52:00.000+05:30

We laugh we cry
But never do we try
To curb the violence within

We strike to gain
When they are in pain
Our inner selves so full of sin

Hardly we know
What it takes to sow
The seeds of labour and love

We take the wrong way
So keen to hold sway
Is being honest so tough?

We weep over the dead
Knowing what is being said
The only truth of all things

Our hearts cry ‘foul’!
In answer to our soul
That we all are violent beings.

Towards the West

2006-05-12T19:15:00.000+05:30

My free spirits refused to stay confined after the Class X Board Examinations ended and so after three days, we boarded the Gitanjali Express anticipating a long, refreshing tour of the West India.

We stopped at Bhusaval and took a bus to Jalgaon, which was our stop for the night. Early next morning, we set out for Aurangabad, and on the way, stopped at the Buddhist rack-hewn Ajanta Caves. The isolated scrap of horseshoe shaped rocky hill rising over a ravine to a steep height of 250 feet made an ideal site for the monastic sanctuary, which dates back to the 1st and 2nd century B.C.

The architectural and sculptural excellence in these caves is surpassed by addition of a third form of art – painting, which has given Ajanta its fame. Within the frameworks of spirituality, an entire pageant of contemporary life has been vividly depicted. Our guide also pointed at the famous ‘Ajanta type’ female figures with well-carved forms, elongated eyes, attractive mien and ample adornment.

In the evening, we reached Aurangabad, a flourishing trade center in Maharashtra. We visited the state Textile Emporium to see the much-heard himroo and paithan handicrafts, which have typical ‘carpet of flowers’ design. But they cost the sky and we bought only a piece of stole, so that we could take back an example of the intricate design.

Next morning we were off to visit the Ellora Caves, located 28 km away from the city. The excavations on a sloping hillside spread from north to south, revealing most beautifully, the point of contrast among the three religions, Buddhism, Jainism and Hinduism or more precisely, Brahmanism. While returning, we visited the Daulatabad Fort, a famous medieval landscape. Built by Raja Bhillamraj of Jadav dynasty in 1187 A.D., this old citadel is known for its brilliant fortifications, which made it almost inaccessible by enemies. Seeing the wide moat all around it, extremely smooth walls, heavy iron gates with elephant spikes and pitch-dark passages, we all agreed to what Travernier had said – “This fortress is one of the most powerful in my eyes”.

Bibi-ka-Maqbara, built by Aurangzeb in memory of his wife Rabia-ud-Durrani, is a poor imitation of the grand Taj Mahal of Agra. Erected by Prince Azam Shah in 1678, it stands in the middle of a spacious and formally planned garden, with axial ponds, fountains, and water channels, defined by stone screens and lined with broad pathways.

Our nest stop was Mahabaleswar, a hill station on the Western Ghats. After the sultry heat, here was our chance to cool off. One whole day was spent in visiting the famous Pratapgarh Fort of Shivaji. Legend has it that where the flag flies is where Shivaji killed Afzal Khan using the claws of a tiger. It is very well maintained by the Government and even today, a priest performs daily puja in the Temple of Goddess Bhabani.

We shuddered when the guide informed us of the punishment point of the fort. The wrongdoer would be hurled down from the fort, located in Raigarh Jilla and his body would be found at Satara Jilla, some 900 feet below!

Now was the time to move towards Goa for which I had been waiting right from the beginning of the tour. The thirteen-hour bus journey left us exhausted as we entered Panjim late in the evening. Next day, we were off to enjoy ourselves at the world famous beaches with lovely names as Mira Mar, Dona Paula, Anjuna, Kalangute and Kowa. The evening was thoroughly enjoyed as we cruised the Mandavi River in the luxury steamer ‘Santa Monica’, where the vibrant culture of Goa was presented before us through songs and dance items. St. Francis Cathedral was visited next morning where the body of St. Francis Xavier is still preserved. In the evening, we headed towards Mumbai by the Konkan Kanya Express, which took us through numerous tunnels in the Ghats and we entered Dadar at dawn.

The Siddhi Vinayak Temple, Taraporawala Aquarium, Hanging Garden, Boot House and the Iskon Temple were visited that day. Next, we went to the famous Haji Ali Mosque and Gateway of India. From the Gateway, we took a steamer to the Elephanta Caves, which are famous for wonderful sculpture of Shiva-Parvati. Situated in the Gharapuri Island and dating back till 600 A.D., it houses the famous trinity – that of Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva.
A stroll down the Juhu beach and the Fashion Street completed our Mumbai sightseeing.
Just as all good things end, our trip to the western part of the country also came to a halt after fifteen days. The trip gave us a glimpse of ancient art forms hidden inside caves, formidable fortresses describing history, picturesque hills, exquisite beaches and a bustling metropolis all at the same time. Now, when I pen down those days, I cannot but echo these lines of Derozio -

Yes; there are in the backward past
Soft hours to which we turn-
Hours which, at distance, mildly shine,
Shine on, but never burn.

The Broken Promise

2006-05-05T20:49:00.000+05:30

This has been one of the few verse poems that I have created...Composed just after reading 'Great Expectations' when I was greatly moved by the character of Miss Havisham...You might find her traces here...

The air was filled with a melodious tune
And the dark walls showed flickering of many flames
I entered the parlour, quietly, my heart beating fast!
And there he sat, with his violin, waiting for me
I looked into his eyes, which spoke of love eternal
As I felt a shiver through my spines
We had just exchanged vows till death do us part
And I looked forward to our first night together
The fire crackled noisily as I pushed in more woods
Hiding my flushed face from him
He held my hands to his lips
Whispering sweet nothings into me
Promises of forever love----which I yearned for so long
Praises for my blue eyes and black hair,
Soft voice and red lips----and then my heart ached.

A sudden gush of cold wind intruded into my thoughts
I shivered as I turned -- no one’s there
I stood alone in the dark room in eerie silence
I strained my tired ears--- no tune was heard
I looked beyond the Cimmerian darkness
The mirror in front revealed an old maid
Grey hair, lined face, trembling lips and a desperate look
I shut my eyes in terror---memories
Of the man shook me from inside
The man who promised but never kept it!

The Mirage

2006-04-25T10:43:00.000+05:30

If you have ever experienced one-sided love, then may be you will agree with this one...

If my one wish would be granted now
I would ask for your love
Indulging in such a frenzied dream
Has always been so tough!
My life revolves around the image
Of you holding my hand
And smiling into my eyes
Amidst a scenery grand
How I lived for the moment when
I would be asked, ‘ Do you?’
And felt a wild, maddening shiver
That went all through
My body as I gave my best smile to the mirror-
And blushed, closed my eyes, trying-
Not to imagine the terror,
Of being foolish that might
Make you change your mind
Thus, breaking the carefully spun spell
Leaving a frustrated me to find
Solace in drops of tears
As the obvious truth sank in me
‘That my heart loved him with
So much vigour, but never did he.’

The Best Valentine

2006-04-17T09:29:00.000+05:30

The best valentine
You can ever get,
Whose love is for ever
And who will never forget
How you changed her life
By your mere presence,
Who will shower you with love
And also teach its essence,
Who will be there with you
Whether you frown or smile
Who will always support you
And travel that extra mile,
Are you wondering where to
Find her, at the end?
Do not look further
I am that friend!

For some one like me, who is yet to fall in love, 14th February has remained just another day...This year, I thought that I should acknowledge the enormous support and love I have received from my friends...It's they whom I call my best valentines!!!

Writers Block, the NUJS monthly Newsletter was kind enough to carry this verse in their February issue.

The colours of rangoli

2006-04-10T12:39:00.001+05:30

This was the rangoli that was made infront of the idol of Saraswati on 2nd February 2006. Though lots of people were involved in giving it the final shape, I would love to call it one of my creations as I created the basic layout in wee hours of the day of Saraswati Puja. And when we ran out of colours, I decided to fill it up with shreds of marigold(!) and completed the look by drawing the swastika.

To Goa With Love

2006-04-08T16:43:00.001+05:30

Goa has left an indelible mark in my mind...not just by its exotic beauty with which it beckons every tourist, as I experienced and saw what others fail to...

As I half-lay on my couch on a lazy afternoon
Browsing through the captured moments of Goa, memories
Of my trip to the exotic land came alive before my eyes
Those sunny days, white sands and the blue-green sea
And the never-ending stretches with lovely names
Mira Mar, Dona Paula, Anjuna, Calangute and Bagha
Each with her own distinct and lovely look
All ready to entice me
I spent days and nights
Being seduced by them
And watched through the looking glass
Those bare, white torsos lying in the sun
In an attempt to turn brown
Shops selling memorabilia priced ten times higher
Merrily doing business among tourists
I looked beyond to discover more wonder
Those small huts lining the beach whose
Men go out into the sea everyday
Where naked children play around
Without having their share of basics
But can enjoy endlessly what I can only after
Two days of journey from the other part of the country
Am I jealous of them?
The answer evades me as I close the album
My lazy afternoons dedicated to Goa with love.

Shantiniketan Revisited

2006-04-08T16:14:00.001+05:30

The Abode of Peace – you beckon us
Every now and then
When life becomes mundane
We want to leave behind all fuss
And visit you again

"Guys, we are late! It’s already 2 and the train, to the best of my knowledge, is at 2:50 pm!” I said in utter exasperation as the boys showed no sign of setting off. Instead, they scorned at me saying that it will hardly take time to reach Sealdah. But during our taxi ride to the station, when we got stuck in the traffic for endless number of times, even they suspected that we would not be able to catch the train.
Date: 2nd November, 2005 Place: NUJS Context: Shantiniketan trip by 17 students of 2nd year (2004-09 Batch)

It took a lot of planning throughout the Monsoon semester of the year and phone calls to each other during the vacation to ultimately embark on our journey to Shantiniketan. Of course, the boys were rights and we reached Sealdah just in time to catch the train, but not without some nail-biting moments on the way. Once we were seated comfortably in the local train, all of us engaged ourselves for the next 3 hours. Though most of us chatted continuously throughout the journey, yours truly took card lessons from Semanti and Kinjal for the first time, played Call Bridge with them and also won the first game! The fact that I kept on losing for the rest of the games is a different story altogether as against seasoned players like Abira and Malabika, hardly anybody can hope otherwise. As we neared Shantiniketan, we could not help but notice the eerie darkness outside and wonder how it would be like at Abhiroop’s place where we are putting up.

Our classmate and host, Abhiroop was there at the station to receive us with his trademark broad smile. The auto ride to his place really scared us as it took us through vast meadows covered in ebony blackness with a few houses here and there. Nevertheless, our lodging for the next two days turned out to be a majestic three-storied bungalow, which received our whole-hearted admiration in the form of Oohs!, Aahs! And Wows! in chorus.
After we, girls have captured the top two floors, thereby restricting the boys in one bedroom and the living room in the ground floor, it was time for relaxation and chalking out sightseeing plans for the next day. The evening saw us in a fierce battle of Dumb Charade and Chinese Whisper. We had a gala time punishing the ones in the latter game, where Sayak and Rohit were made to dance to the tunes of Kajra Re amidst our loud cheers. Food was got through home delivery and the dinner brought an end to the first day at Shantiniketan.

As planned, we set out for a morning stroll in the nearby reserve forest (of course, it was devoid of any wild animals!) at 7 am, leaving behind sleepyheads like Abira, Ankit and Sarbajeet. It was a truly enjoyable walk in the chill of the early morning and greenery of the forest where we blindly followed our guide Abhiroop. The later part of the morning saw us all dressed for a long day outing. Just outside the closed gates of the Viswabharati Museum, it dawned on us that it was a holiday on the occasion of Bhai-Phonta and so we had to be content with only a visit inside the University.
We had decided to have lunch outside and Abhiroop had promised a good restaurant, only 20 minutes of walking distance away. But we reached it only after walking for almost 45 minutes in scorching sun! But that was not the end of my woes. I was served my mixed chowmein when the rest were licking off their plates, literally and figuratively! I would have starved to death if not for generous share of food from Kinjal and Abhiroop.

Post-lunch, there was a fierce debate about plans for the rest of the evening. We all set off for the banks of the river Kopai by autoricksaw, who totally robbed us by extracting exorbitant fare. After lots of photo sessions there, some of us headed back home, Sayak and Abhiroop went to get return tickets, while the more enthusiasts like Annie, Sanjana,Ripzong, Aparajita and Shezin decided to go on a shopping spree. They loaded their bags with small memorabilia from the roadside shops and other items like jholas.
Back home, we all settled down to a cozy and enjoyable evening of a game of cards. Ayan refused to bluff at all, while Abira and Ankit kept on bluffing only!

Post-dinner we decided to spend our last night at Shantiniketan in the most memorable way – by indulging in a ‘ghost story session’. Starting with the clichéd quote “This is a true account”, everyone added to the session his/her version of the most varied ghost stories ever heard anywhere together. When we had finally called it a day at 1:30 am and went off to our respective rooms, some of the girls (and I am sure some guys too) were very scared. Tell me who would not be, after such an adda where personal (!) experiences and stories of scary movies like The Blair Witch Project interspersed with frightening instances from NUJS itself were discussed!

The next morning saw us in a frenzied packing mood as we had the train at 1 pm. With wonderful memories at tow, we set off, to arrive and once again, enter our everyday routine at NUJS. It has been a unique trip in ways more than one. Be it for Semanti giving a treat of gulab jamuns to all of us, on the occasion of her birthday which incidentally fell on 2nd November, or Aniruddh’s passes at Ankit, or playing ‘memory game’ during the train journey, or Srinivas offering to take most of the snaps in my camera so that I could feature in them, the whole trip is etched in our minds. I wanted to revisit it by penning an account of it and hope that the rest of the group will relive the moments when they read it.