That was 6000 Kilometres and it was bloody good fun.

6 cities, 30 Km trek up a hill, snow fights, bomb blasts and a mumbai in monsoon later, finally glad to be back in nanna bengaluru. i landed at the airport and the pilot said that the temperature outside was 24 degree celsius. 24????. i'll tell you. Delhi was 41, Chandigarh was 43, Manali was 32, Jammu was 46, Srinagar was 35, Mumbai was 32 (and ofcourse utterly humid!, I always wonder what will power keeps those Mumbaikers from running down the streets naked because of that dreadful humidity), and my hometown was 24??, we should have taken residence at the Leela Palace instead and sipped pinnacolada poolside for 10 days, that would have served the purpose. wherever we went, the thermometer touched record temperatures. the trip was awesome but this will prolly be the last time we travel as a family, as 4 finicky adults in an alien landscape.

I'll probably have to create a travel blog for my travel experiences but i made note of a lot of interesting things, and since i didn't have paper on me, jotted them on boarding cards and such, but as things went, had to dump them all at Srinagar airport because the scraps of paper were becoming an embarrassing liability. Srinagar airport has , probably, the tightest security in the country, they check you 6 times before you board the plane, and everytime they do that, they open your backpack and strip it of all its contents and scrutinize it thoroughly till they find something. at the first security check right at the airport gate, they nearly freaked out when they saw the iPod. even more when i told them that battery isn't detachable. they didn't believe it was an innocuous music player and i had to play them some music till they finally let me go. i was frisked 4 times and the CCTV clip would probably make for a B- rated girl on girl video and then there was utterly embarrasing, show- me- your- purse searches.It is, when your back pack contains things like mobile charger, knee brace, a copy of crime and punishment, dozens of cold tissues, boarding cards, air hostess appraisal forms and all sorts of entry tickets with scribbles on them. I had to dump all my scraps of paper after mom told me that the contents made me look like a pack rat. Anyhow i do remember what i wrote and i'll eventually get around to blogging them.

Big things are once again afoot and i can't talk about it right now. Inshallah, i hope the next few days go well.

P.S Nag, you know what to do, incase :P

That would be about 2000 Kilometres

well, after about 4 years, the Iddya clan goes on vacation again. Mark, i said vacation and not holiday, because you should see the bloody itinery. Bangalore-Delhi- Manali- Jammu- Srinagar-Delhi- Mumbai-Bangalore in 15 days. fantastic. i'm soo looking forward to this.
wasn't there a bomb blast in Srinagar the day before? . lovely.

see our family vacation can never be a holiday. it's incapable of such a noble quality. My parents don't believe in "Rest & Relaxation", they believe in Mall roads, Taj Mahal, Viceroy's summer retreat, Botanical gardens (why the fuck have they still preserved raj relics? they should destroy such things and build a golf course in their place), Valley point, Suicide point, waterfalls, Scenic point, River view point, chuk chuk train museum, butterfly cottage...err you get the drift. I'm cribbing about going to Kashmir for obvious reasons, so incase I don't make it back, a few messages to people who matter.

My parents : Thank you for having me, not that i had any say in the matter

My friends: Thank you for teaching me things i should have known.

My lovers : Thank you for teaching me things i should not have known ;)

My animals: Thank you for being furry and for emotionally blackmailing me with those liquid eyes.

The Asghar Family : Thank you for feeding me exotic mediterranean cuisine, although i still can't pronounce those names.

Quizcorp : You owe me a bloody T-shirt.

Abhishek Nag : I owe Eloor Library 3 books and 160 bucks, please do the needful and clear my name. and oh, owe jallu 500 bucks, clear that also.

umm thats it i guess, I'm off.
Take care world.

Another spirited performance

More tales of bacchanalian revelry.

Well last Friday, my brother’s best friend Harish and Vaish got married, and my brother was best man, which in south Indian weddings, means that you are fed a lil more and get to be in nearly all the pictures or sometimes even take the pictures because well you are Best man, you just can’t sod off and be idle, know what I mean?. Well anyhow my brother used his best man pass and got me invited to the party meant for close friends only, in a rather embarrassing circumstance. He marched up to the groom and said, “ invite her to the party, da”. So well, there we go, Saturday night partyyyyyyyyy!

The party was at Sheesh Mahal, and I didn’t know the place existed till I saw it. Its on lavelle road, right next to the Rice bowl, btw. Anyhow I enter the place with bro and I see the bride talking to her group, don’t know anybody there, see the groom, standing next to the bar, that scene looked more promising and so after wishing the groom eternal connubial bliss, (I used the very same words!), headed to the bar and ordered my first drink. See when the drinks are on the house, and there’s someone to drive you back home, you take full advantage of the situation.

The party, like the wedding was like a reunion of the class of 2002. And that freaked me out no end. It was like a trailer to my life 3 years hence, where I’d be at the weddings of my classmates, posing for posterity with a plastic smile on my face. Like someone said, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Of course not, but it’s a very bad thing if you are single and relationships for you have the same degree of difficulty as climbing Mt.Everest. Then imagine in 3 years, my classmates, who are in the same single boat with me now, will be gushing over with matrimonial ecstacy, while I most possibly will be single. Am I the only one who finds weddings depressing?

Soon, I was sitting, nursing my second drink, spinning, feeling very happy with myself. Like I’ve mentioned before, its my favourite part, I become the monarch of all I survey in my giddy world. I struck up a lively conversation with the ginsoaked gentleman, who told me that all bong men have a fetish for a dominatrix type. Then the party got even livelier ‘cause everybody took to the dance floor, I couldn’t because of my knee injury, the better for it because I got to witness some audacious (read comic relief) dance moves. The guy I kinda fancied at the party was dancing with this girl who was tryin some major salsa moves. Sigh!.

I dunno when exactly, but late into the party, I found that I was having trouble walking straight and keeping my balance, and when I told the afore mentioned Ginsoaked gentleman that my bro had used his photo to test the features of the new digicam, I realized I’d had a little too much to drink. I was not drunk, just feeling egregiously blunt. That was when bro dearest freaked out. If my dad came to know of my state, he’d be dead meat. So he bundled me into the car and drove me home. I tried to avoid my folks, but mom came into my room and asked me if I’d had alcohol. Her theory being that men consider women who drink to be very “loose”. I told her, without batting an eyelid, that’d had very little and conducted myself with exemplary dignity. Thank god, she didn’t ask me to walk right then. I can really lie very well, one of my special talents.

Next morning, I woke up with a nasty hangover, and it’s not nice when you have a puja to attend to. I felt lousy, everybody present with a fresh pious exuberance and I with a headache. I wanted to eat but apparently you need to starve till the puja was over. I felt guilty too, somewhat less spiritual, all till the pujari’s cell phone rang and interrupted the puja. That bugger is going to hell before me, he put god on hold!.

its the spirit that counts.

we always experiment with restuarants when we go out to dinner for dad's birthday, not so with mom's. Mom's birthday is always celebrated in a tried and tested restuarant and even the dishes are usually the same, soups,starters, main course and dessert. Theres no definite thought process involved in choosing restuarants in dad's case. we'd be in the car, and then one of us would suggest a restuarant, and the night's gastronomic experience would depend on the strength of that capricious opinion. Yesterday it was my loud mouth that suggested a certain restuarant, i'll not reveal the name because certain events occurred, which could result in the aforementioned restuarant losing its license.

So, we entered the restuarant with anticipation and grumbling insides, and surprisingly even got seats without reservation. the flip side to our capricious decision making is that we never make reservation and more often than not, wait outside the restuarant till we get seating. right, so far things were looking good for the restuarant and the ambience and plush seats elicited a warm approval from Dad, till he saw the menu. " They don't serve alcohol???". shit!!!. and of course my bro didn't help. "she brought us here". i got accusatory looks from all quarters and a full fledged glare from dad. i knew from then on there'd be some fine grumbling.
"this is not how i envisioned my 56th birthday, with apple juice!!!".
" 56 years, and you'd think a man derserves his rightful drink, and its not apple juice!!"
" Two kids over 21 years and they still want apple juice!!"
as a last ditch effort, in sheer desperation, my dad asked the waiter if it was possible they'd serve alcohol, nevermind the costs. the waiter shook his head, but also beamed slightly and winked a little. My dad an old hand at this game, then called the Maitre d' and asked him if he'd serve alcohol. surprisingly, after exchanging broad grins, the latter told us he could serve us Bacardi white with sprite and pass it off as fresh lime soda but it had to be done covertly because the restuarant did not have a liquor license. That bought the twinkle right back into dad's eye. all apple juices were cancelled and we got Bacardi in disguise.
i Dont drink that often, and i have this tendency to get tipsy with a little alcohol. i once started singing all the songs from the "Sound Of Music", after few sips of wine on lysh's terrace. it must have sounded really bad because apparently, a neighbour threatened to throw a shoe at whoever it was that was singing, and not one to be deterred, i apparently yelled back that if he threw a second shoe, i'd end up with a pair!. I'm sure she made this up, I was not drunk!!!. Anyhow, back to the night in question, soon i was spinning happily, looking dazedly at the splendid food before me and leaning on the plush chair for comfort. i like this part, theres contentment in all aspect of me.
the night ended peacefully after that, it was not a disaster. My dad had a memorable birthday, and the next time i suggest a restuarant for another birthday, i will not be poo-pahed.
thanks, Maitre d' of the restuarant that shall not be named.