Nomad.....with(out) a desk job

The one eyed boy

2011-12-17T15:20:00.000+05:30

As my train left the dusty, fly infested town of Churu behind I settled into my hard fought window seat and watched the sand dunes of the Thar roll by. Exotically named stations like Bissau, Mahansar, Kayamsar went by and we rumbled into Fathehpur Shekhawati. A nondescript town which had its 15 minutes of fame in the film Ghulami. My reverie was broken by the sharp sounds of two stones being clattered together to the tune of some long forgotten song.

Turning, I saw this boy perhaps 7 or 8 years in age - one of thousands such children that you come across in Indian trains. Travelling from station to station singing improvised versions of film or devotional songs while clattering a unique musical instrument made of two flat pieces of stone or tile and hoping to make some money out of the largesse of passengers. Most of them are homeless and this one was no exception. Most of them have a twinkle in their eyes as well. A hard life does not always win over mischief and innocence that comes with this age.

This one was different though, he had only one eye. It was full of sadness and melancholy. I tried talking to him, he didn't even tell me his name. I tried giving him 20 rupees - he took only ten, grudgingly. He then turned away and started singing. In a voice that could shatter a diamond and sadness that could melt gold.

India in 52 frames - 27

2011-12-13T12:24:00.000+05:30

The Concrete March

As India stakes its claim among the leading nations in the world, a construction boom has gripped the country. From malls, to apartments, to airports..everywhere concrete is making a vertical march.

Image Details
--

Camera : Canon EOS 350D Digital
Aperture : f/10
Shutter Speed : 1/1000 sec
Focal Length : 18mm
ISO Speed : 100

India in 52 frames - 26

2011-11-30T14:02:00.000+05:30

The river, the power, the mother

In Indian mythology, the river Ganga holds as exalted status. She's the consort of the Holy Trinity of Bramha, Vishnu and Shiva. She is personified as the ever flowing Power, and the ever forgiving all accepting Mother. It is no wonder, to see countless Indians lining up each morning along its banks, praying - for she is the distilled lifeblood of Indian tradition.

--
Image Details

Camera : Canon EOS 350D Digital
Aperture: f/6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/800 sec
Focal Length : 190mm
ISO Speed: 400

India in 52 frames - 25

2011-11-21T13:19:00.000+05:30

The oldest canvas in the world

--

Deep in the heart of Madhya Pradesh, lie the cave shelters of Bhinmetka. These shelters exhibit the earliest traces of human life in India. It is suggested that at least some of these shelters were inhabited by man for in excess of 100,000 years. Some of the rock paintings found among the Bhimbetka rock shelters are approximately 30,000 years old.

Image Details
--

Camera : Canon EOS 350D Digital
Aperture : f/5.6
Shutter Speed : 1/1000 sec
Focal Length : 18mm
ISO Speed : 400

India in 52 frames - 24

2011-11-10T16:30:00.001+05:30

The power of prayer

--

A Buddhist monk prays at the Mahabodhi temple in Gaya. Buddhists believe that when praying generates power. The relationship between the person who prays and the object of prayer is like the relationship between a bell and the person who rings the bell. The bell won’t ring without someone to ring it. The being – the object of prayer- can only have power if people have faith in it.

--
Image Details

Camera : Canon EOS 350D Digital
Aperture : f/5.0
Shutter Speed : 1/5 sec
Focal Length : 18mm
ISO Speed: 800

India in 52 frames - 23

2011-11-03T08:07:00.000+05:30

- The Spectacle Arrives

- Ever since I was a child, I used to be glued to the TV on Sundays - watching my heroes roar around Silverstone, Monza or Monaco in their sleek beasts. Last weekend, I heard the ear splitting roars for myself, saw my heroes in person. And not just that, the track was in India, the advertisers on the cars were Indian and one driver even had the Ashok Chakra on his helmet.

F1 had truly arrived.

--
Image Details
Camera : Canon EOS 350 Digital
Aperture : f/10
Shutter Speed : 1/500 sec
Focal Length : 92mm
ISO Speed : 100

My Soul is Dark

2011-10-31T12:58:00.001+05:30

My soul is dark - Oh! quickly string

The harp I yet can brook to hear;

And let thy gentle fingers fling

Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear.

If in this heart a hope be dear,

That sound shall charm it forth again:

If in these eyes there lurk a tear,

'Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain.

But bid the strain be wild and deep,

Nor let thy notes of joy be first:

I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,

Or else this heavy heart will burst;

For it hath been by sorrow nursed,

And ached in sleepless silence, long;

And now 'tis doomed to know the worst,

And break at once - or yield to song.

by Lord Byron

India in 52 frames - 22

2011-10-27T13:46:00.000+05:30

Ballet in the sky

The legendary Surya Kiran Aerobatic Team of the Indian Air Force painting the tricolours in the skies above Bangalore.

Image Details

Camera : Canon EOS 50D

Aperture : f/9.0

Focal Length : 200mm

Shutter Speed : 1/640 sec

ISO Speed : 200

India in 52 frames - 21

2011-10-20T13:01:00.002+05:30

Colours of India

If there is anything that defines this country, it's the myriad of colours that paint its canvas. Every nook and corner is just bursting with them.

Image Details

Camera : Canon EOS 350D Digital
Aperture : f/10
Shutter Speed : 1/250 sec
Focal Length : 55mm
ISO Speed : 200

India in 52 frames - 20

2011-10-11T17:47:00.000+05:30

The Water Bearers

As evening falls, women from from a hill top village come down to the road to fill water from a well. These women make several trips a day expertly balancing nearly 20 liters of water or more in one go.

Image Details

Camera : Canon EOS 350D Digital
Aperture : f/8
Shutter Speed : 1/800 sec
Focal Length : 214mm
ISO Speed : 400
Exposure Bias : -0.3

India in 52 frames - 19

2011-10-05T16:54:00.001+05:30

New Wings -

For years Indians flew out of barns, bunkers and tin sheds masquerading as airports. Then with the opening of the Rajiv Gandhi International Airport in Hyderabad, we went from being the worst to the best in one single leap. Today this airport ranks amongst the best in the world and has been joined by equally modern and efficient airports at Delhi, Bombay and Bangalore. Having been associated closely with the development of the new airports at Delhi and Hyderabad, I can proudly claim a small part in contributing to the nation.

Image Details

Camera : Canon EOS 350D Digital

Aperture : f/3.5

Shutter Speed : 1/10 sec

Focal Length : 22mm

ISO Speed : 400

India in 52 frames - 18

2011-09-26T14:15:00.001+05:30

A secret the world knows -

Years ago, a small time government employee began to clear a little patch of jungle to make himself a small garden with sculpted figures built material recycled from whatever he happened to come across. This man worked in secret at night after a full day's work at office. Gradually his creation grew and grew to cover several acres, comprising hundreds of sculptures set in a series of interlinking courtyards.

One day his secret discovered by the authorities. The creation was completely illegal - a development in a forbidden area which by law have been demolished. But the rule book was thrown out of window for once, and he was given a salary and fifty men so that he could concentrate full-time on this work.

This man was Nek Chand and his creation is the now world famous, Rock Garden of Chandigarh.

--
Image Details

Camera : Canon Powershot S2 IS
Aperture : f/4
Shutter Speed : 1/500 sec
Focal Length : 264mm (35mm equivalent)
ISO Speed : 80

India in 52 frames - 17

2011-09-24T12:34:00.000+05:30

--
A little bit of vanity in an otherwise hard life.

He is a coal miner, returning home after a hard days work underneath the bowels of the earth. He was aboard the evening commuter train from Bhojudih, a sleepy mining town in Jharkhand.

--

Image Details:
Camera : Canon EOS 350D Digital
Aperture : f/5.0
Shutter Speed : 1/1600 sec
Focal Length : 200mm
ISO Speed : 400

India in 52 frames - 16

2011-09-15T15:28:00.000+05:30

--
Monsoon On The Ruins

Hampi and its ruins are long steeped in history. Some say it is the legendary Kishkindha, the capital of the monkey kings Bali & Sugriva. It is also revered as the birth place of Hanuman. Centuries afterward, Harihara and Bukka founded their capital at the same site which was brought to its zenith by Krishna Deva Raya.

Today it's ruins are visited by thousands of gawking tourists and pilgrims all through the year. However, when the monsoons break above the skies - the ruins acquire another, magical aspect altogether.

--
Image Details : Composite HDR Panorama comprising 6 frames, over 3 exposure settings.

Camera : Canon EOS 350D Digital
Focal Length : 18mm

India in 52 frames - 15

2011-09-09T09:57:00.000+05:30

The Pilgrim

A pilgrim is a wanderer with purpose
~ Anonymous

--
Image Details

Camera : Canon Powershot S2 IS
Aperture : f/5.6
Shutter Speed : 1/1000
Focal Length : 72mm (35mm equivalent)
ISO Speed : 80

It's been a year

2011-09-04T10:21:00.002+05:30

.... since I wrote this post.

A lot of water has flown under the bridge, a lot of things have changed in my life.

I have travelled more than the earth's circumference. I have met countless new people. I have slept in more beds than I can remember. I have woken up on countless mornings trying to remember which city I was in today. I have seen the worst mankind can ever be, I have seen the best mankind can ever hope to be.

I have been stripped of all my dignity. I have lost a lot of things I used to hold dear. I now know who really cares for me or not. I now know the real meaning of love, relationships and sacrifice. I have cried on many nights, hurt on a lot many more. Happy days are hard to come by. I don't even know what a gentle touch, a warm embrace feels like any more.

But If someone asked me if I would want to go back to the life I once had - the desk and the job. I wouldn't think twice.....

.... before saying No.

India in 52 frames - 14

2011-08-29T13:16:00.000+05:30

The Flying Pose....

People from all over the world come to the Taj Mahal. Everyone has a unique style of posing in front of it. This however, was certainly a first.

--
Image Details

Camera : Canon Powershot S2 IS
Aperture : f/7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/500 sec
Focal Length : 180mm (35mm equivalent)
ISO Speed : 200

India in 52 frames - 13

2011-08-17T12:08:00.000+05:30

The Coal Cycle

Around the coal mines of Dhanbad, Jharia or Raniganj in Eastern India, you'll often come across these cycles loaded with nearly 150-200 kg of coal, being pushed by these cycle wallahs. The reward for their labour, a meager Rs 100 - 150 (US$ 2-3) per trip.

A stream of these wallahs pushing their loads up a hill reminds one of a line of ants struggling with food seemingly too big to be handle. They provide a fascinating subject of inquiry to the curious person. In most cases, cyclists are friendly and open to chatting, particularly when they stop to catch a breath in an uphill push. However, they are often guarded in their responses when asked where the coal comes from. Locals such as jeep/trekker (a form of open large jeep used commonly for transporting passengers) drivers or even local police may stop to help them if a curious interviewer causes suspicion.

The loads are pushed by the cycle wallahs 15–25 km up, sometimes reasonably steep hills, and the return journey may take as long as eight hours. When pushing the coal up the steep inclines, they may stay in groups of 4–8 in order to help each other. On flat roads, individual wallahs can be observed. For one destination, Ranchi (the capital of Jharkhand), the cycle wallahs undertake a two day journey of ~60 km, the extra time taken being compensated by a higher price for coal. The stamina needed to undertake this long trip means they only do this twice a week, and return by the local trekkers with their cycles on top. Those who take only one day for their trip often do it every day.

With no other means of sustained livelihood, they are a sad but integral part of the illegal coal mining & distribution mafia. For a detailed read on a subject, visit this page.

Image Details

Camera : Canon EOS 350D Digital

Aperture: f/6.3

Shutter Speed: 1/800 sec

Focal Length : 159mm

ISO Speed: 400

India in 52 frames - 12

2011-08-12T15:58:00.001+05:30

A Simple Question

If gods can be happy together in a cart, why can't their followers be happy together in a country?

--
Image Details
Camera : Canon EOS 350D Digital
Aperture : f/11
Shutter Speed : 1/125 sec
Focal Length : 133mm
ISO Speed : 400

India in 52 frames - 11

2011-08-06T13:07:00.000+05:30

Getting Ready

Full moons are considered auspicious among Hindus and on one such day, hundreds of pilgrims line up expectantly as a local passenger train pulls into Kachhwa Road station. The pilgrims are headed towards Allahabad to take a dip in the holy Ganga - and cleanse them of their sins.

--
Image Details
Camera : Canon EOS 350D Digital
Aperture: f/7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/80 sec
Focal Length: 55mm
ISO Speed: 200

Green

2011-08-05T15:25:00.000+05:30

... from Blue

A night, passes and then a day.
The harsh stinging sun burns his skin.
His lips are cracked, like a dried lake bed.
On this little plank he drifts.

Another dawn breaks and brings with it a sliver of green
On this little plank he drifts
With the current he drifts
Past the island he drifts.....

India in 52 frames - 10

2011-07-29T19:53:00.000+05:30

Gandhi once said, “The Earth provides enough to satisfy every man's need, but not every man's greed”. Try telling that to this gentleman.

--
Image Details

Camera: Canon EOS 50D
Aperture: f/3.5
Shutter Speed: 1/4 sec
Focal Length: 18mm
ISO Speed: 1250

India in 52 frames - 9

2011-07-23T19:31:00.001+05:30

Timeless....

Some scenes have not changed with time - even during the time of the Mughals, goat herds would have brought their flock to feed on the banks of the Yamuna and the Taj stands witness to that.

--

Image Details

Camera : Canon EOS 350D Digital
Aperture : f/10
Shutter Speed : 1/250 sec
ISO Speed : 100
Exposure Program : Manual

India in 52 frames - 8

2011-07-18T11:44:00.008+05:30

The Morning After
Dev Deepavali is celebrated on the occasion of Kartik Poornima when the Ghats of Varanasi come alive with thousands of Diyas (earthen lamps). Dev Deepavali, celebrated on the fifteenth day of Diwali, is a tribute to river Ganga by the people of Varanasi. Dev Deepavali is held on the full moon day in the month of Kartik (also known as Kartik Purnima) and is observed with great fanfare and feasts. It is believed that on the day of Dev Deepavali, the Gods descend on Earth. And after a boisterous night of festivities, all that remains are these flowers.

Image Details

Camera: Canon EOS 350D Digital

Aperture: f/5.6

Shutter Speed: 1/800 sec

Focal Length : 140mm

ISO Speed: 200

Exposure Program: Aperture Priority

India in 52 frames - 7

2011-07-09T19:39:00.002+05:30

Meals Ready

As my train pulls into Villupuram, an important junction in Tamil Nadu, vendors get ready to dish out fresh grub to the hungry passengers.

--
Image Details

Camera: Canon EOS 50D Digital

Aperture: f/9

Shutter Speed: 1/320 sec

Focal Length : 200mm

ISO Speed: 320

Exposure Program: Aperture Priority

India in 52 frames - 6

2011-06-29T11:00:00.002+05:30

For a little bit of sun

It wasn't fully winter yet in the Shivalik Hills. Yet the mornings were chilly. So when I got up one morning, I found this Kashmir Rock Agama, sunning herself. A few more days, and she would have been gone, for her long winter sleep.

Image Details

Camera : Canon EOS 350D Digital

Aperture : f/7.1

Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec

Focal Length: 300mm

ISO Speed: 200

Exposure Program : Aperture Priority

You CAN Do

2011-06-28T13:33:00.001+05:30

A few years ago, I was at one of those team building off-sites that you hear about all too often. As a team leader, I was given some Monopoly money and made to sit in an auction. There were random articles in the auction and all I won at the end was a brick and a roll of toilet paper.

It was then that we were told the purpose of the auction. From the stuff that we bid for, we were supposed to build an 'egg drop catcher' that would prevent three eggs from breaking after being dropped from a height of 20ft on to the floor below. Given the fact that other teams had bid for far more softer things like straws, sponges and rubber bands - our team was already looking at the prospect of three splattered eggs.

But then again, we weren't in it to lose. After a few minutes of furious discussion we figured out what we had to do. We managed to find a hammer and pound the brick to a pile of dust. We unravelled the roll of toilet paper and cut open the inner cardboard cylinder to fashion a spring and placed it in the center of the mound and piled it on top.

It looked downright ugly, and everyone in the competition was smirking when we placed it in the designated area. We were nervous as hell, but when the eggs were dropped, to our surprise and everyone else's - not one of them broke.

Then it was the turn of the other teams. They'd all come up with impressive looking devices, crafted with ingenuity and a lot of thought. But none of them could prevent three eggs from breaking and so we won.

I cannot describe the feeling of joy that overtook us. It was as if we'd won the goddamned World Cup. I know you'd be wondering what the big deal was. But trust me it was.

It reiterated a couple of things for me that day -

A. There's nothing like 'No Can Do'
B. Sometimes it's not the fancy, scientific solution that works - simple sometimes is better
C. Teamwork works

And now, whenever I am faced with an insurmountable problem. I go back to that balmy day in Matheran and things become clearer for me.

India in 52 frames - 5

2011-06-23T08:56:00.001+05:30

The Yellow Kolkata

Kolkata has traditionally been a bastion of the Reds. Recently, they were swept away by the Greens. But it's been the lumbering Yellow dinosaurs that define Kolkata for me. They've been around forever, and still going strong.

--
Image Details
Camera: Canon EOS 350D Digital
Aperture: f/9
Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
Focal Length: 18mm
Exposure: 0 EV Aperture Priority

India in 52 frames - 4

2011-06-14T21:32:00.004+05:30

The Monk Who Had a Gun

While the plains of Jammu and the Valley of Kashmir have long lived under the shadow of the gun - Ladakh has remained an oasis of peace & quiet, largely due to the non-violent ways of of the Buddhist community there. I hope that this young monk upholds that way of life and that gun remains nothing but a child's plaything.

--
Image Details:

Camera: Canon Powershot S2 IS
Aperture: f/4
Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
Focal Length: 366 mm (35mm equivalent)
ISO Speed: ISO 80

India in 52 frames - 3

2011-06-09T08:18:00.001+05:30

The Man With No Name

He has no name, he has no face. We don't know him, not care much about him. Yet, his contribution to the nation far exceeds what most of us can even dream of. Yet, he remains the humble worker.

--
Image Details:
Camera: Canon EOS 350D Digital
Aperture: f/9
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
Focal Length: 133 mm
ISO Speed: ISO 200
Exposure : -0.7 EV Aperture Priority

India in 52 frames - 2

2011-05-31T07:42:00.001+05:30

Candyfloss Dreams

Dreams are like candyfloss. They're sweet, but they don't fill your stomach. I'm sure this boy knows that. Hence he sells candyfloss on Pondicherry's promenade to fulfill his dreams.

Image Details:

Camera: Canon EOS 350D Digital
Aperture: f/9
Shutter Speed: 1/500 sec
Focal Length: 214 mm
ISO Speed: ISO 400
Exposure : Aperture Priority

India in 52 frames - 1

2011-05-24T12:32:00.005+05:30

Mysteries, madness, contradictions & stunning vistas - in 52 weeks

Ek Chutki Sindoor

The very mention of the word Sindoor (or kumkum as it is known in some parts) is enough to conjure images of most dramatic scenes that Indian cinema or television has ever produced.

Bollywood drama aside, the use of Sindoor to denote a woman's married status has been prevalent on the Indian subcontinent for more than 5,000 years. It finds mention in the Mahabharata, in the Puranas and countless ancient texts. Even today, Hindu women across the world, wear their Sindoor with pride - as can be seen in this image taken in rural Bihar.

These women had gathered in the house of a local social worker for a discussion cum training session on family planning methods. All of them were young mothers, the oldest not even 25 - but each one was trying to out do the other when it came to displaying the vermillion on their foreheads.

Somethings in India change in the blink of an eye. Some never do..

Image Details:

Camera: Canon EOS 350D Digital
Aperture: f/5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/25 sec
Focal Length: 86 mm
ISO Speed: ISO 800
Exposure : Manual

Desire

2011-04-29T20:29:00.002+05:30

While describing the idea of Buddhism in his monumental book (and TV series) - the Story of India; the British historian Michael Wood writes - "The idea is deceptively simple. The human condition, by its very nature entails suffering. Suffering is caused by the human ego, by desire, clinging, attachment and greed. Humanity can find tranquility only by removing attachments that are at the root of all human unhappiness, anxiety and aggression. The way to liberation is not through worship of a god (or anything else), but by becoming a fully autonomous and compassionate human being......

..... the implication of the Buddha's logic is that even belief in god is itself a form of human desire and clinging, a product of ego. Another cause of suffering in that it prevents a person from becoming an autonomous and free human being. This was nothing less than a rebellion against history."

As the wheels of time rolled by, Buddha and his thoughts were slowly overtaken by subsequent religious upheavals - whether they be Hindu, Islamic or otherwise in origin. A few thousand years later, another set of mystics happened to come by. Like the Buddha, they too roamed from place to place, expounding nothing but love. These were the Sufis as the world knows them today and they too were labelled rebels, radicals, infidels and what not....

But pray read these lines by one of them, Bulleh Shah...

Makke Geyan Gal Mukdi Nahi , Bhawein Sau Sau Jumme Padh Aayie

Ganga Geyan Gal Mukdi Nahi, Bhawein Sau Sau Gote Khaiye

Gaya Geyan Gal Mukdi Nahi, Bhawein Sau Sau Pund Padhaiye

Bulleh Shah Gal Ta-iyon Mukdi, Jadon Mainy Dilon Gawaiye

A hundred prayers at Mecca, a hundred dips in the Ganga or a hundred rituals at Gaya will get you God. Bulleh Shah, you will truly attain Him, only him you lose all desire for Him

Sir Te Topi, Bhawein Neeyat Khoti, Laina Ki topi Sir Dhar Ke

Tasbeeh Phiri, par Dil Na Phireya, Laina Ki Tasbeeh Hath Phad Ke

Bahron Dhoye Lattan Mode, Te Andar Rahi Paleeti

Bulleya, Jhaag Bina Dudh Nahi Jamna, Bhawein Laal Howe Kar Kar Ke

A prayer cap on your head is no good, nor is a rosary. What's the point of washing yourself - when your dirty from inside. To truly attain him, clean yourself from or it'll just be like trying to curdle milk without acid.

Bulleya Chal Othe Chaliye, Jitthe Rainde Saare Anne

Na Koi Saadi Zaat Pehchane, Te Na Koi Saanu Manne

Bulleh Shah, lets go to a place where everyone is blind

Only then will someone take you for who you are without wondering about your caste or religion

In a nutshell, the only desire we should retain is the desire to lose everything. Only then will we gain everything. But that's too hard, isn't it?

I find it hard...

2011-04-27T13:27:00.002+05:30

... to let people know how much I love them and how much they mean to me

... to put words to my thoughts

... to let go

... to forget

... to handle money

... to handle anger

... to handle rejection

... to handle hurt

... to handle love

... to handle loss

Birds & Photography

2011-03-26T11:40:00.001+05:30

While I’ve always had interest in birds, I only took up their photography very recently. Far from being proficient, I still struggle with identifying them correctly. Yet, here are some images that I’ve taken over the years and hoping to get some better ones soon

A pair of Black Necked Storks in Bharatpur – the one facing left is the male with the black eyes

A white throated Kingfisher, a bird made famous by the eponymous Indian beer

A Long Tailed Shrike, also known as the Rufous Backed Shrike

A pair of Black Kites against the backdrop of the moon near Mangalore

A Short Toed Snake Eagle rests on a clump of cactus in the Thol Bird Sanctuary near Ahmedabad

A Shikra, also known as the Sparrow Hawk

A Brahminy Kite plucks a dead chicken out of the Arabian Sea backwaters

The humble Red Vented Bulbul in my front lawn

A magnificent Green Bee Eater at Thol Bird Sanctuary, Ahmedabad

Tale of Two Kingdoms

2011-03-16T22:21:00.001+05:30

Across Marwar into Mewar

“Haylo.. Pappu... Pappu, can you hear me? Pappu, Pappu.... get the car to the station. Haylo, Pappu?” And so I got up, to find a middle aged gent screaming into his Chinese mobile phone. I headed to the door to find ourselves standing at the huge curve that leads into Ajmer Jn.

Eventually, we did get the signal and so did the uncleji – who managed to get Pappu reach the station in time to pick him up. Ajmer and many other stations in Rajasthan do not share the Railways’ fixation with tea bags. Instead, good old chai is brewed right on the platform providing an excellent start to what would be a long day.

We pulled into my first destination, Marwar Jn. bang on time. I heaved my two rucksacks on the spotlessly clean platform, dotted by numerous benches donated and installed by various Marwari families. I had more than three hours to kill before I caught the afternoon Meter Gauge service, one of only two that run from Marwar. Once it was a busy all MG junction on the with lines radiating to important towns like Ahmedabad, Jodhpur, Jaipur & Udaipur (via Mavli). Now, trains to the first three stations are on BG while MG towards Mavli survives simply because of a formidable ghat section across the Aravalis – the sole reason, why railfans make their pilgrimage to this one horse town.

At one point in time, Marwar boasted a grand station building & yard. Now it has a sole MG platform in one forlorn corner. The MG terminus on the Jodhpur side has been converted into a grain unloading siding or should I say, grain wastage siding.

The dinky little town however boasts some fine Bhojanalayas (restaurants). Eschew the Punjabi or South Indian dishes and go straight for the local Thali.

Take my word for it, you won’t find too many better meals. To boot, the owner got his wife to make parathas in his own household kitchen (adjoining the restaurant) on my special request. These were duly packed with Rajasthan’s signature green chilly pickle and tucked away for the journey.

There is only one day service to Mavli Jn – the 1350hrs 52075 passenger, which leaves Mavli in the morning as the 52076 and immediately returns. On its way, the train also shuttles water tankers between Goram Ghat (GGO), Phulad and Marwar. On this day however, the tankers were also accompanied by a few coaches who were due for their POH. This led to an elaborate shunting exercise compounding the delay already caused by the late incoming train. We were finally off at 1420, and I was already worried. I had a mere 20 minutes to catch a connecting train to Udaipur at Mavli, which was the last one of the day.

Marwar Jn. is situated at an altitude of 269m, just to the west of the ancient Aravalis which run south easterly from Delhi’s vicinity. The line has to climb these hills and then on to the Mewar plateau, upon which sit Mavli and Udaipur. Thus, the line was historically important, as it linked the eponymous princely states of Marwar and Mewar. The line was completed in the mid 1930s providing a direct connection between Jodhpur and Udaipur. These days however, the train’s priority can be judged by the fact that it is the train that has to halt at a level crossing. The driver has to look out for road traffic and then inch forward after ascertaining that all is well.

The line climbs slightly till Phulad, at an MSL of 352m. The lay of the land dictates a reversal at Phulad, from where the gradient rises immediately. The Ghat section ends of Khamblighat (KBK) which is 22 km by rail. Within this distance, the line climbs 305 m, peaking just before KBK at an MSL of 657m. At Phulad, a bunch of British tourists staying at the nearby heritage hotel clambered on. Phulad also serves as a late lunch halt with the stall there doing roaring business selling freshly made tea, pakoras and other savouries.

The train set off through a series of tight curves and sharp grades so characteristic of this section. This also necessitates a relatively slow section speed of 19 kmph. The line moves in a rough north-westerly direction till GGO. The vegetation is typical of the Aravalis with Kikar, Babool and other thorny bushes abounding. Accounts of this line by other railfans spoke of langoors and monkeys that line the station every time a train passes. A fellow traveller was even carrying food for the simians but they were conspicuous by their absence. Enquiry with the station master at GGO revealed that on Tuesdays and Saturdays, the monkeys do not come to the station. Instead they line up at a nearby Hanuman temple where the feast is much larger.

At GGO, one can easily see the line climbing further across the valley. A couple of viaducts are visible as well. The train reaches across the valley, by the means of a horse-shoe curve. Thereafter, the line holds a north westerly course for more than 10 kilometers along a ridge. This means that one can see GGO station and its surroundings for the better part of 30 minutes. On a clear day, one can even see Phulad station and the nearby reservoir on the plains.

Along this ridge, the train has to negotiate two tunnels of moderate length. The tunnels are unlined for most of their length and even the portals are not cemented as is commonly seen elsewhere. Having seen the tight curvature of the line and the width of the tunnels, I doubt if the same alignment can be used if the railways decide to convert this line to BG. Already, there is talk of BG conversion from Mawli to the temple town of Nathdwara further down the line.

Past the tunnels, the line curves sharply to the east and starts heading to KBK while still climbing. The final push to the summit is perhaps the steepest unassisted climb outside of the narrow gauge in India. While GGO is the only crossing station on the line, there are several catch sidings along the line for trains heading downhill.

The foreign tourist group got off at KBK – the cars that had dropped them Phulad were already waiting when we pulled in. I too considered jumping off there, for the NH8 crosses the rail track just outside the station. The train had maintained its delay and I was getting jittery about the connection at Mavli. But the rail fan in me prevailed and I stayed on.

There is little of note however on the line past KBK, so I spent the time reading the amazing exploits of Bear Grylls (of the Man vs Wild fame) in his book Facing Up – an account of his climb up Mt. Everest. As the sun fell, we approach the town of Nathdwara, famous for its Jain temples. For the first time in journey, the train actually got full and there were loads of passengers standing as well. This was strange as buses from Nathdwara to Mavli are plenty and the station is about 10km from the town. It is perhaps this demand that is prompting NWR to consider gauge conversion till here.

The slack in the time table was apparent past Nathdwara and we pulled in exactly as per schedule at Mavli. Another MG line to Bari Sadri originates here, hence the facilities for the smaller line are much better here than at Marwar. Time however was in short supply for me, so I chose to run to the ticket window instead of inspecting the MG platforms. Despite my 22 kg load, I was able to beat the crowd and soon was in possession of a superfast ticket to Udaipur. The 12992 Ajmer – Udaipur Intercity was bang on time. I did not get a seat in the unreserved coach that I had boarded, but the short 40 min sprint was despatched in a jiffy by the beast from Ratlam up ahead. I found a hotel just outside the station at Udaipur and was soon sleeping – another MG ride awaited me the next day.

Udaipur to Ahmedabad (or so I thought)

The first thing that greeted me, when I entered Udaipur station the next morning was this amazing installation art made of salvaged railway parts. One of the things I will always remember about the station was its cleanliness. It may be due to the fact that Udaipur only sees about a dozen daily trains, yet cleanliness of that sort does take a lot of keeping. The station also boasts of a very efficient old school refreshment room. The sort where you can have fantastic cutlets, omelette, toast and tea prepared fresh and served on bone china crockery and still pay 40 rupees for a hearty breakfast.

The MG platforms at Udaipur, like most of their ilk are a neglected lot. The rake of the 52927 Udaipur (UDZ) – Ahmedabad (ADI) Fast passenger was already stabled on the island platform. Sundry passenger and goods stock (for departmental use only) could also be seen scattered the shrinking MG yard. At the appointed hour, the Sabarmati based YDM4 at the helm of our train started and slowly made its way across the points. The southbound line passes through some of the less affluent parts of the city and soon finds itself among rocky outcrops of the Mewar Plateau. This soon gives way to the plateau proper where deep rock cuttings facilitate the passage of the permanent way for most part. Gnarled & twisted dead trees lay on the slopes, scattered around like extinguished dragons after a battle with the knights.

On the train, I was expecting a far larger crowd than what was there. After all, the line connects places which don’t have good road connections to Udaipur for most part. Little did I know why. My coach, being a reserved one in a day journey had less than 10 fare paying passengers. I spent most of the time at the door, marvelling at the raw beauty of this land. Jagged rocks loomed large and in between I could steal glimpses of hamlets in the valley below. Without warning, the train emerged from a cutting on the lovely Oda viaduct, giving me no chance to snag a picture.

A bunch of children were making full use of the emergency window in the coach ahead, and readily posed for my camera as the train rounded the innumerable curves on the line. The ghat section peters out at Zawar, which is 40 kilometers by rail, in which the line descends 228m from its peak MSL of 585.6m at Umra (the first station on the line from Udaipur). There was an extended halt at Zawar allowing passengers to stretch their legs and indulge in a cup of chai. A lovely lady in pink was going from coach to coach enquiring about something and was getting conflicting answers. Blissfully unaware, I rode on. While the descent eases after Zawar, the line continues to lose altitude all the way till Ahmedabad. This being Rajasthan, camels could be seen everywhere. So much so, that even the hills adjoining the track looked like camel humps

At Rikhabdeo Road, a roving mendicant entered my bay and seeing my attire and camera gear got into an animated conversation about who I was and why I was there. When he learnt that I planned to head to Ahmedabad, he burst out laughing. Now any self respecting railfan would take offense at that and needless to say I did so too. I produced my ticket which caused him to double up while letting me know that I was the only idiot aboard as the train was terminating at Dungarpur (two stations further). Of course I did not believe him - after all I was the one knew all about trains. And so I marched up to the guard and asked him – and he confirmed that indeed I was the only idiot aboard. It turned out that due to some local trouble over a level crossing, trains were not running between Dungarpur and Himmatnagar. Having booked my ticket much in advance, I had no way of knowing about this recent development.

And so here I did what every railfan does in times of dire need – call VSP. And as expected, he solved my problem in a jiffy. Turned out that Dungarpur was not exactly the boondocks as I had imagined - in fact it was a district headquarter. And its proximity to National Highway #8 would mean easy bus connections to Ahmedabad. But that was easier said than done.

As the train emptied itself at Dungarpur, I headed out in search of transport to take me to the Bus Stand. There were autos aplenty, but getting one to take me and my mountain of gear was another matter. All autos ply on the sharing mode; ferrying me would have meant the loss of revenue from two other passengers. And so I was left standing alone in the station’s parking lot. It took some twenty minutes for me to flag down an empty auto and convince him to take me to the bus stand for a ‘Peshal’ service.

Dungarpur is quite a busy town and the bus stand reflects that. When I got there, there were more than a dozen buses waiting to leave. Unfortunately, none of them were for Ahmedabad. The earliest bus, I was told was at 1715 hrs, so I had plenty of time to kill. The alarm clock in my stomach had gone off, indicating that it was lunch hour. There were plenty of restaurants across the road from the bus stand and I promptly entered the one that had advertised ‘Dal Baati Churma’ in largest font size possible. The dish is in fact a complete meal comprising of Lentils (Daal), Stuffed Dough Balls (Baati) with a host of accompaniments. All of it was for just 40 rupees, and for 5 more I got a generous dollop of ghee which transformed a great meal into a brilliant one. And the accompanying notice on the wall was a class of its own!

The king sized lunch prevented me from exploring the town any further, so I found a comfortable bench at the bus stand and the continuing adventures of Bear Grylls ensured that time passed by in a jiffy. Dungarpur to Ahmedabad is 176 km by road, which is the same as the journey by train. However, the brilliant NH8 ensured that I was in Ahmedabad an hour before the scheduled arrival of my passenger (had it gone the distance). And this was despite the 3 hour halt at Dungarpur. No wonder, the day train runs empty.

It was to be a two day halt in Ahmedabad, during which I visited the Thol Bird Sanctuary on the outskirts of the city and eating the amazing non-vegetarian food that the city has to offer.

Later, I was also taken on a guided tour of the city’s brilliant Bus Rapid Transit corridor by IRFCA member Abhijit Lokre. Seeing the way it has been designed & executed properly, I am not fully convinced that towns like Kochi & Jaipur are going to shoot themselves in the foot by going in for a Metro Rail system.

VSP, Tejender Reddy & Jayakar Sunkara also turned up in Ahmedabad having visited the temple towns of Dwarka & Somnath. We all had a great dinner together and the next morning, I caught the Navjeevan Express to Bhusaval to attend the 2011 IRFCA Convention.

... contd in Part 2
More pics from the trip here

Images - Aero India 2011

2011-02-10T20:26:00.020+05:30

Am currently covering the Aero India 2011 Air Show on an assignment. Some pictures from the first two days of action

India's homegrown Light Combat Aircraft 'Tejas' takes off for a display flight. The aircraft has had a tumultuous development history and is yet to be fully inducted in the Indian Air Force, even after missing multiple deadlines.

The Boeing F/A 18 Super Hornet has enthralled the audience with its superb agility at Aero India. The aircraft is among the candidates vying for the lucrative MMRCA deal currently under consideration by the Indian Air Force.

The General Dynamics F-16 Fighting Falcon takes off with afterburners lit. The plane is another contender for the MMRCA contract.

The Anglo-German-Italian, Eurofighter Typhoon is tipped by many as the leading horse in the MMRCA race.

Six aircraft, the American F/A-18 & the F-16 along with the Typhoon, the Swedish Saab Gripen, the French Dassault Rafale and the Russian MiG-35 are vying for the MMRCA contract. In this image, all but the Mig-35 line up to show off their capabilities at Aero India 2011.

However, the big daddy at the show is undoubtedly the Sukhoi Su-30 MkI. Jointly developed by Russia and India, few aircraft if any can match the awesome prowess of this monster.

A prototype of the Light Combat Helicopter developed by India, shows off its wares.

A staple at any Indian Air Show, the Air Force's Surya Kiran Aerobatics Team. This however, was their last performace with the Kiran aircraft as the team is being temporarily disbanded.

The Indian Air Force also fields one of the very few helicopter aerobatics teams in the world - the delectable Sarangs

A real crowed puller - The Flying Bulls Aerobatics Team. One of the pilots in the team is actually a 62 year old lady!

My favourite pictures of 2010

2011-01-26T18:45:00.002+05:30

This elderly gent is a permanent fixture at the Meherangarh Fort in Jodhpur, Rajasthan. He can be found smoking his hookah and posing for pics. In fact he is pretty famous, so much so that he has a photo group dedicated to him on Flickr.

I however, love this pic for its sharpness - the way each line on his face, each hair in his lush beard stands. And the twinkle in his eye is the icing on the cake.

My first tiger - need I say more?

I also spent an amazing night under the stars in the open desert. When morning broke, I found these lovely little beetle footprints inches from my nose.

This pic marked the beginning of the end of my past avatar as a salaried nobody. It also marked the culmination of four wonderful years as part of the team responsible for Delhi's new airport. However, the challenge of executing this pic in the most awful weather conditions was what made this pic special indeed.

Bombay's Victoria Terminus is one of my favourite buildings in the whole wide world. When the pic turned out like this, I believed I had finally done justice to the grandeur of this edifice.

I am really proud of the way these two images turned out, considering the fact that I had hardly ever tried HDR photography before.

Decade of realization

2010-12-30T00:23:00.000+05:30

I spent the last ten years, waiting for that ONE moment.

But I guess I'll spend the next ten, and the ones to follow in the realization that that moment will never come.

I always believed that destiny was what one created by their own hands, but maybe it is not so.

Then again, I will continue down the path i have chosen. Because it is the only way i know - that it is all or nothing.....

The baby steps....

2010-11-22T23:39:00.004+05:30

It's close to midnight, and sleep is far far away. There is a palpable tension in the air, an apprehension. My stomach is churning with excitement.

Tomorrow morning, I go for my first photography assignment since going solo. The memories of the desk job have been left behind.

Hello world... here I come!

Vodka fuelled post #3

2010-10-23T02:39:00.004+05:30

Continued from...

The Stormtrooper zaps me with a cattled prod and I black out...

My head bumps against something cold and hard, jolting me to my senses. I open my eyes and I realize I can't see anything, my eyes are blindfolded it seems. The engine noise tells me I'm in a diesel truck of some sort, the suspension quality confirms it.

I can smell people next to me, the stench of sweat, grime and excreta is too obvious. However, no one is talking. Then, we stop and guttural voices in a strange tongue mutter something that can only be an order. A hard rifle butt to the sternum clears any doubts that I might have had.

We're bundled off the truck, hitting the ground like a sack of potatoes. Another butt tells us we're supposed to be on our feet. Then, our blindfolds are taken off and the midday sun hits like a freight train. As the eyes slowly begin to take in the scene, the smell begins to register its presence. It's no foul stench, but it ain't sweet either. It's the smell of decay mixed with sweat.

We're at what seems like an open cast mine. And indeed it is one, but it isn't one where one you see earthmovers the size of houses and dumpers of Biblical proportions. It's just full of people as far as the eye can see.

"What the fuck is this", I ask the guard who seems like an Androidesque version of an SS Oberleutenant? Another rifle butt and a barked reply - "You wanted progress? Here, have it!"

"But progress is a verb, an adjective I cry". He laughs and says "Progress, my friend.... is Unobtanium."

The Demon Makers

2010-10-16T13:44:00.025+05:30

Each year, as the monsoon retreats out of Delhi, a motley bunch of people start making their way into the city. Armed with little more than bamboos, old newspapers, discarded sarees, starch and coloured paper, they bring to life a sleepy corner of Delhi - Titar Pur. They set about building an army of India's most celebrated villain - the Demon King Raavan.

Coming from various parts of North India and in any other part of the year they make sundry - items like wicker baskets, furniture - even funeral items. But the weeks leading up to the Dussehra festival are their chance to reap in the windfall. As the country prepares to burn thousands of effigies of Raavan at the end of the Navratri festival.

For years I have been watching them go by their jobs, and I am happy to report that even in the Playstation era,their number keeps growing as the demand for these effigies scales new heights each year. Each year, they effigies keep getting taller and pricier, the going rate this year for the fanciest ones is more than Rs. 1 lakh ($2200 approx)

Here are some images from a wonderful evening spent among the Demon Makers

A young boy applies starch to old rags which are stuck on top of a frame made of bamboo sticks to give the basic shape to the effigy

Layers of old newspapers topped with shiny coloured paper are then pasted on the top to add razzmatazz, followed by elaborate painting of those demonic eyes and nasty teeth

The influx of these effigy makers proves to be a windfall for the local chaiwallah, who does roaring business late into the night

The colourful effigies are built practically on the roadside and are an attraction for many a passerby, including this young mother and her baby

This young lady however, isn't impressed so easily

The legend of Raavan does not impress the local canine either, who promptly lets the demon know who's the boss in these parts

This strapping gent's moustache isn't just for fashion. He plays the role of Raavan in a local Ramlila, the ritual enactment of the legend of Ramayana. In real life though, he's a cop and was here shopping for an effigy that could meet his lofty standards

Wedding bands are the permanent residents of this neighbourhood and practice for the upcoming wedding season has begun in full earnest as well

A finished effigy has been bundled off in a lorry for assembly. It'll be fitted with thousands of firecrackers before it meets its fiery end of Oct 17th

As dusk falls, finishing touches are being applied to dozens more

As the day winds down, commuters wait for their buses and Raavan has just two more days to go

Night comes, the local barber shop is still going strong as are the demon makers

The city rolls on, and a little Raavan contemplates its fate

Here I am, on the road again

2010-09-03T21:33:00.006+05:30

(In case you haven't noticed... look up, you'll see a change)

As I walked into office this morning, word had already spread that this was to be my last day at work. I got stopped in corridors, people dropped by at my desk, I wasn't even left alone in the loo! But one thing that struck me as I spoke to them, was the fact that almost everyone opened the conversation with the same question - "So where are you joining next?"

And when I told them that I wasn't joining anywhere, just quitting this job - the reaction was the same again... 'Oh come on, don't kid me - I am sure you've got a cushy job lined up, otherwise who would quit just like that?' And it increasingly became hard to convince anyone that I indeed was quitting without having another offer or hand or something concrete lined up. By noon, I had given up.

Because I realized that they were all stuck in the same pathetic rut, the drudgery of a commute, a desk and a computer. For them, change would mean change of employer or designation - Nothing more.

Not me though!

Today, I emptied my desk of its computer, got rid of the files and threw away my business cards. My access cards got shredded to bits, and my email id and login passwords were deleted. Today, I ceased to be #00002381 - today I became myself again.

Tomorrow morning, I hit the road again....

A Journey In the Dark

2010-08-19T13:08:00.002+05:30

Apart from the title, this post has little to do with the Fellowship of the Ring's progress through the Mines of Moria. My tale is in fact not even from Middle Earth, but from the 90s.

I was visiting my relatives settled along the Andhra coast. From Vishakhapatnam I was to go to Nellore and as is the gricer's wont - I chose the train that was the slowest, took the longest route and got overtook the most. So I was to take the now defunct Howrah - Tirupati Express - a slow coach that was said to have so much slack, that it could reach on time even if 24 hrs late!

The sky was an angry purple even at that late hour. Thick clouds were ready to disgorge their contents at a moment's notice, thunderbolts screamed across the sky like school kids in their afternoon recess. The train pulled into the platform and the ritualistic pandemonium to locate coaches and seats broke loose. An oasis of calm however prevailed around the little party that had come to see me off. Being a family where one member or the other is on a train at any given moment in time, we knew exactly where my coach would be.

The coach was the second from the loco, and my berth side lower, trackside. In short everything was perfect - until the rain started. It fell in thick gobs, spraying my face as it bounced off the window sill. Both the windows was jammed rock solid, not just the glass pane, the metal shutter as well. To make matters worse, the lamps in the coach weren't working either - only those in the toilets worked miraculously. Since the train was full and without vestibules, a change of seat was impossible. Hence, I had no option, but to brave it out.

It was a moonless night, so hardly anything could be seen. The only illumination was from the toilet windows forming a perfect square on the ballast of the adjacent track. Our train rumbled through the night stopping as usual at Duvvada, Anakapalle, Ellamanchi and the host of small towns. I kept dozing off, but was frequently woken up the spray of water. After a while, I just gave up. Rajahmundry was at hand, and the prospect of the Godavari crossing was enough to keep me awake.

Even as we were halted at Rajahmundry station, all went dark. Apparently it was a major power failure and that detained the train in the station for quite some time. I dozed off again but woke up as the train started with a jerk. As it pulled out, the entire town was shrouded in darkness - the power outage seemed total. We rolled past Godavari station, a fact ascertained by the lone lamp held by the station master as he led us through.

A rumble began all of a sudden, and soon turned into a roar. We were on the Havelock bridge! A sudden burst of lightening lit up the river for a few seconds - it was in full spate. Another flash, scared the daylights (no I don't think that's the right idiom given the late hour, but what the heck - you got my point, didn't you?) out of me! Now, fully exposed to the elements, out train crawled its way across the 3 km expanse. The odd bolt revealed the menacing stretch of water that was spread out as far as one could make out. The wind was howling; driving the rain through the windows - stinging my face.

They say that when the end is near, your life flashes past you in an instant. Here, it happened in slow motion - each jerk, each creak, each lurch seemed to be the last. Visions of a watery grave churned my stomach. I just held on to the window bars and perhaps for the first time in my life, I wished I was a theist.

And then it was over, the metallic rumble gave way to the reassuring clickety clack of rails on solid ground. The old geezer ahead notched up, filling the coach with thick brumes of unadulterated ALCO smoke. Kovvur station's platform canopy brought some respite from the rain, which trickled into a drizzle as we started up. Nidadavole came and we split towards the branch lines spread between the twin deltas of the Godavari and Krishna.

I think it was at Attili, that we were held up for a long time for a crossing. It was nearing dawn and the urge for a chai or a coffee grew strong. Given the small size of the station, I wasn't expecting much, but was surprised to find a young girl huddled under an umbrella with a steaming kettle on the boil. Drenched and cold, that cup of chai was one of the most refreshing that I have ever had in my life.

Past Bhimavaram, Akividu, Gudivada we sped on towards Vijaywada as the sun finally managed break the clouds' stranglehold and shone brightly. This helped me dry quickly, but the heat and the humidity meant that my shirt was wet and sticky again! It was at Vijaywada station, where I was standing next to my window munching on steaming Idlis, that I noticed that the panes weren't jammed at all. It was just the old fashioned lift and release locks that I failed to notice in the dark!

Time to fly

2010-08-11T22:38:00.002+05:30

There are too many feelings running through me right now. I have put in my papers at my current employers'. The plan is simple... to strike it out on my own. Apprehension sends shivers down my spine, so does excitement. There are far too many things that I want to do, at the same time the reminder of earning a living rings at the back of my head. Will I be able.... won't I? I don't know.....

But I want to find out... THAT I think what is important right now.

Wish me luck!

See you on the other side........... Soon

Safar

2010-08-10T13:09:00.003+05:30

राहों पे रहते हैं, यादों पे बसर करते हैं

खुश रहो एहले वतन, हम तो सफ़र करते हैं

2010-07-31T17:21:00.000+05:30

It was you who found me right? At a place now obscured by the wisps of time. There I was, hiding as much as from everyone as from myself. You took my hand, not bothered by the fact that it was shrivelled and hideous. You held me close, making me forget my fear of being seen by the world,

I still remember you lovingly feeding me my first decent meal in weeks. That night I slept, for the first time in months clutched to your breast. When morning came, you were still there, caressing my smelly, matted hair.

I never knew happiness like that and have never known it since then. For war and death took you away again.

Years later, I saw you again, on the other side of the river. I still walk along the banks today, hoping to come to a bridge. But for the moment it seems we're two shiny rails running together forever but the twain shall never meet.

Dhuaan

2010-06-22T22:28:00.000+05:30

A simple flick of the match in the darkness
Bring it close to the tip and take in the first pull, a long deep one
Hold it there, don't let it go just... Let it work its magic
Repeat it, over and over...
In a while your lips will feel heavy, your mouth will run dry.
The hunger in your belly will growl likw a thousand tigers, but your mind flows away....
To pure bliss

Vodka Fuelled Post #2

2010-05-21T03:10:00.003+05:30

... from Vodka fuelled post #1

In a flash the DeLorean disapppeared, and I was left alone again in the darkness. In the distance though I could see the lights of vehicles climbing the ghats. The first one of them, an eighteen wheeler with Rajasthan number plates came close and I hailed it. The driver, a burly chap asked "Kathe Jano Sai?"

"Jitni door tame jaa riyo saa", to wherever you may be going - I answered. He motioned me to hop in and told me he was going as far as Lohegaon - delivering spares to the Indian Air Force base. It wasn't long that we got there, the lanky chap at the gate asked for my papers. I had none on my person, but magically, the driver produced some for me - anointing me as his helper. The guard let us in, pointing towards the hangars where we were to deliver. As we go there, a posse of uniformed airmen surrounded us and quickly unloaded the truck.

As they got on with their job, I asked for the way towards the toilet. Reaching there, I unzipped and got on with the job, with a smart looking chap in the next stall. We got talking and found out that his family hailed from the same district as mine - though it was in Pakistan now. Out of the blue he asked me, if I wanted a ride in his plane? "Which plane" I asked, hoping for a troop transport to take me to wherever they may be going.

It turned out, that he flew the Sukhoi Su-30 and I was strapped to the back seat in G-suit. As we took off, he positioned the sleek craft into a steep climb and minutes later, we were at the edge of the atmosphere. "Wanna see what this baby can do?", he asked and I mumbled something into the intercom. Even before I had finished, we were in a steep dive and then he pulled the nose sharply upward almost causing the plane to stall - as we dropped freely, he powered the afterburners to regain control. Little did I realise, it was the Pugachev's Cobra maneuver. The afterburners refused to kick in and we were dropping altitude sharply. "Eject .... eject" was all I could hear in my earpiece as I pulled the handle. The rocket powered zero zero ejection seat hurled me from nought to 60 in less than a second, but not before my head hit the canopy brace on my way out.

I blacked out.

I opened my eyes, only to find a curious Stormtrooper examining my G-suit intently. It wasn't long before he pronounced to his mates - "this is not the droid we're looking for...."

continued here....

Vodka fuelled post #1

2010-04-23T00:07:00.002+05:30

It is a warm summer night, so still that the driest of leaves falls to the ground like a ball of lead. The night is quiet, even the dogs find it tiresome to utter a bark. I step out of the station on to the unlit road, walk those hundred paces to the main road - no light here either.

I wait by the side of the road, maybe for a bus. An hour passes, no sign of anything. The loudest thing I heard was the pop of the marijuana seeds in my 5 rupee joint. They burst with a crackle, millimeters away from my eye. Then, I think a hear a faint whine, it grows louder with each passing second. Sounds like a V8, my brain says. The glow of headlamps climbs the gradient and with a whoosh THE DeLorean stops right in front of me.

"How far to 1985?", Dr. Emmet Brown with his frazzled mane asks loudly? "Not very far", I say. "Just that there ain't enough road down here to take you to 88." He is dejected. "But if you were to drop me along the way to 1996, I can sure find you some."

"Hop on laddie", he beams and we're off.

Guiding him through the narrow alleys of Lonavla, I lead him on to the Expressway. "Now when did you Injuns come up with these?" I just glare at him as the speed clock touches 88. The loudest sound a man can ever hear, the whitest white a man can ever see assault my senses.

I open my stinging eyes, my ringing ears. He opens the door and stares at me dumbly, that's my cue to get off perhaps. I do so, pointing the way to NH-4, "you can hit 88 again doc, provided you steer clear of the Tata 1210s". He nods, the gullwing doors close and he's gone in a flash.

"This doesn't look familar", I say to myself. "Of course, it doesn't you idiot - you were never here then, sorry now.... no I mean then... whatever!"

to be contd....

Blue

2010-04-12T22:25:00.002+05:30

from White....

And then the invisible force holding him lets go....

He drops, miles below... gravity accelerating him

Hitting the surface with a flash, the deeps pull him

The cold water jolting him out of his daze

Struggling, he bobs to the surface... foam and surface feel like stinging slaps

He sees a plank and grabs it

The cold water turning his veins blue....

White

2010-04-12T14:07:00.004+05:30

From Red

His patchy sleep is broken by the silence

The birds, the crickets, the rats nowhere to be heard

And then the wind starts howling, picking up with each passing moment

The boards start rattling.... violently and then they crack

He is lifted up bodily, along with the roof and everything else

Swirling, tumbling into the vortex of the twister

The howl shatters his eardrums, and then everything is silent

He rises, rises straight through the clouds and then there is a blinding flash

Everything goes white.........

.... Blue

Ringus Summers

2010-04-09T21:41:00.007+05:30

Just past noon the train slowly pulls into Ringus, one of those blink and you miss towns on the edge of the Rajasthani desert. It's June, and it is roasting, the heat somehow managing to sear through the air-conditioned windows as well. Nevertheless, I get out and stroll down the platform. In seconds, beads of sweat are trickling behind my ears.

For a town of few thousand, the station is surprisingly teeming. A large family is spread out on old newspapers and trunks under the somewhat comforting shade of the platform canopy. The alpha male in his tattered vest and frayed trousers is sleeping contentedly, his train not due for hours I guess. There is the usual huddle of men around the tea stall discussing the fate of the ruling party in the upcoming elections.

A few with empty bottles run down the length of the platform stopping at the taps which perhaps ran dry months ago. Lifting them only results in a hollow hiss, the hot air in the pipes relieved to be released. Desperate, they look around, a woman with an infant among them. Her gaze settles on the bright blue water bottles displayed proudly at the tea stall. A bold hand painted sign proclaims TEN RUPEES per bottle. A day's earning for her perhaps.

Just then, the semaphore drops. The engine lets out a loud hoot and slowly starts pulling out with the rest of the train in tow. With no option left, she clambers back in to the packed coaches. Still by the door she sees an old man with two jerry cans of water dangling from either end of a bamboo staff, labour in. The look on the old man's face as the train pulls away matches hers as he recedes into the distance. Unable to take it any more, I close my door and head back to my seat - one of those cold ten rupee water bottles lying there .......

Dev Deepawali

2010-04-05T16:24:00.009+05:30

Dev Deepawali is one of the most celebrated festivals in Varanasi. It coincides with Kartik Poornima. The Ghats of Varanasi come alive with thousands of Diyas (earthen lamps). It is believed that on the day of Dev Deepavali, the very Gods descend on Earth to bathe in the sacred river Ganga.See more here

Image Details:

Camera: Canon EOS 350D Digital
Lens: Canon EF-S 18-55 mm f/3.5 - 5.6
Aperture: f/10
Shutter Speed: 1 sec
Focal Length: 46 mm
ISO Speed: ISO 100
Exposure : Aperture Priority / Macro

India's Finest Shady Bars

2010-03-30T11:32:00.019+05:30

(Update : Purisubzi's contribution to this list)

What can be better than a stiff drink at the end of a satisfying day's travel. In fact, the first thing that I look for anywhere that I end up - is a bar. And not just any bar, but shadiest bar that the town has to offer. Because that is where the true flavour of the city can be seen - that's where the nomads, vagabonds, the scoundrels and all other interesting people gather. So here's my list of some the best places to drink along with a slice of the local life, the country has to offer. All you need to have is a little bit of time and a cast iron stomach.

Kota - In a town mainly known for it's horde of IIT coaching institutes, lies a little gem not very far from the eastern exit of it's railway station. I am forgetting the name but it is easy to locate as it lies next to the busy Sher-e-Punjab Dhaba. Dark and gloomy as it is... the main source of light, as well as noise in the room is the TV perched high near the ceiling. Everytime I've been there, the TV is screeching Guruji Mithun's movies.

The bar has two distinct set of patrons, the locals - unhurried and uncaring, talking loudly and ordering around the waiters as if their fathers owed them a million bucks. The second lot is primarily those who have a train to catch. They'll be in a hurry.. down 3 drinks in 15 minutes while stuffing themselves with with Egg Bhurji and Roti.

And then there is the minority like me, with nowhere particularly to go. In here just to soak in the atmosphere, look at people, drink Old Monk at bargain basement prices along with their excellent paneer pakoras. And when all of this is done, walk around to Sher-e-Punjab and order some of the best chicken curry and fresh tandoori rotis that the world has to offer. Rating on shadiness scale - 7/10

Itarsi - This otherwise nondescript town in Madhya Pradesh has only one claim to fame. It is one of India's major Railway junctions where the the Delhi - Madras and Bombay - Calcutta routes bisect. As a result, many travellers change trains here, prompting the growth of cheap, dingy hotels just outside the station. One of them is Hotel President. As is typical of such hotels, the rooms are small & dirty, the fans are a joke, the beds are flea infested and the bathrooms make the ones in Dharavi look like the Waldorf Astoria. But for Rs. 180 a night, that's all you'll get anyway.

But the raison d'être of visiting the President has to be its bar cum restaurant. Set predictably in its basement, it has all the charm of a medieval dungeon. Steep stairs lead you to a room that permanently smells like a drunkard's breath. Uncomfortable chairs and rickety tables lend their charm to the place. Reading the menu will challenge even the most wizened owl's eyesight. And if you ask the waiters, they'll respond with the enthusiasm of a man being led to the gallows.

But what the heck, the drinks are cheap which covers up for everything including the atrocious food. And to enliven the atmosphere, you can always eavesdrop on the conversations of the property dealers at the next table. You never know you might just get a get rich quick tip! Rating on shadiness scale - 8/10

Warangal - This city in central Andhra Pradesh has been a centre of cultural activity since the 12th century. In recent times though, it has been the hotbed for both the Naxal and Telangana movement. Away fron the politics though, Warangal had often served as a convenient junction for changing trains between Hyderabad & Madras if direct tickets were not available. Having a couple of hours between the trains, I often sauntered up the road from the station. Right behind the grain market near the Venkatrama crossroads was a liquor store. No name, just a metal grilled front resembling a jail and a hole in the wall behind it where one could down the bottle with samplings of the local cuisine.

One evening, I was in a dark corner of an otherwise dim room, downing a bottles of Haywards 5000 (the only brand available). By the time half a bottle was down, two fist fights had already broken out. One between the auto-drivers and the other between a few woodcutters with a few of them nastily weilding their crude axes. Taking in the atmosphere, a lit up a Charminar (what else in Central AP) when a bunch of stern faced gents took up a table in a corner even darker than mine.

Peace prevailed for a while before the the muffled conversation on this table grew in to a loud argument about who finally would get to blow the police station? I quickly finished my fiery fried chicken biryani, paid my bill and left. Only to return 2 weeks later - everything else being the same except that the friendly folk had carried out their task just the previous night. Rating on shadiness scale - 9/10 !!

Bhimavaram - Andhra makes its presence felt again, this time from the coast though. In the middle of the rice bowl of Andhra - the Krishna delta lies Bhimavaram town. While on a journey exploring this wonderful part of the world we had a few hours to kill in the middle of the day. So the hunt began once again for a cheap bar and we found one straight out of the South Indian masala movies. Sri Laxmi Bar & Restaurant was located off Kodavalli Road - opening the door one ran straight into a thick cumulus of cigarette smoke hanging just above the eye level. Obscured by this cloud were half a dozen red, yellow and green zero-watt bulbs trying their very best to illuminate the room. Perched comfortably under this unique weather system were the city's diaspora of drunkards arranged neatly in groups. In one corner were the neighbourhood drunks who kept bumping into each other perpetually. Beside them were the local auto wallahs - the type that scare the daylights out of other motorists with their driving 'skills'.

The best seats in the house though were reserved for the trademark small time 'somebody' - he's always dressed in white - white cotton short and polyester trousers. The shirt's top two buttons will be open to give you a good look at Bappi Lahiri rivalling jewelery around the thick neck. Ditto for the fingers and of course the gold Rado purchased at Burma Bazaar in Madras. He'll be wearing white leather chappals and well and these days, he'll have two mobiles as well. So I am essentially talking about half a dozen souls whose features could be barely made out due to the bad light and their own complexion - glowing in the dark owing to their attire and jewelery guzzling an endless chain of whiskey and sodas in the middle of the day. You get the picture right? Great coastal food and cheap booze topped off the rest of the afternoon. Rating on shadiness scale - 9/10 !!

Rewari - Late one August night, my train arrived at Rewari in Haryana - I was to catch a late night connection to Jaipur. As the crowd of tired commuters slowly melted away into the darkness as I sauntered out of the station in search of food and drink. The need for the second item on the list was solved by the discovery of a shop which announced itself as “Govt. Approved compound for the consumption of liquor”. In common tongue it translated into a shop that was permitted its customers to consume the booze within the premises unlike most Indian liquor stores.

I bought myself a bottle of Thunderbolt 'Super Strong Beer' and went inside only to be greeted by the filthiest dump imaginable. A small room, barely 10’ X 12’ was littered all over with empty cigarette packs, broken bottles, wrappers and pan stains covering every square inch. In a dark corner sat a few men who had been drinking heavily and the murmurs of an impeding argument were creeping across the room. As I was getting the boy to clean the mess the murmurs grew into heavy cuss words and just as I tipped over the bottle for my first sip, a plastic chair flew across the room and whacked me square on the side of my head!!!

I spun around letting loose some choice curses of my own but the culprit was already being held down by his companions who muttered apologies in slurred Haryanvi. Soon it became clear that the chair was not meant for me, but flung by the poor man out of frustration against his wife who had decamped earlier in the day with her lover. Two quick Thunderbolts eased of the effects of the flying chairs and the need for food was fulfilled by the Poori Subzi walla outside as I said goodbye to this uniquely Indian invention - the Ahata. Even though the cities may be getting gltizier - in small town India it is best place to get a drink. Rating on shadiness scale - 10/10 !!

Quick Gun's Haiku

2010-03-23T21:21:00.003+05:30

Dim coloured lights
Clouds of cigarette smoke
Voru whiskey, soda

Hari Sadu or Hari Om?

2010-03-09T12:12:00.005+05:30

I'm sure most of you would have seen the popular ads on TV by Naukri.com... the Hari Sadu series. In case you haven't then here they are

and

And then I get a mail from them - the Naukri - WSJ newsletter and an article in the newsletter says the following

"How Many Ways Can You Say Goodbye to a Job?
It might be tempting to give the boss an earful if you land a new job in the coming months. But the way you quit can have a long term impact on your career....."

Really cool... isn't it?

Looks like a classic case of 'Mooh mein Ram Ram, Bagal mein Chhuri' (Preaching on one hand, bitching on the other) to me.

Stuck

2010-02-15T14:09:00.003+05:30

I am on a road that goes nowhere with a map that has no lines. My compass has no needle and my GPS has no signal. The sky is clouded and the stars cannot be seen. There is no sun, nor the moon. It's not a nice place to be in...

Zero the Hero

2010-02-10T10:42:00.002+05:30

I know a man called Zero... he says he wants nothing and everything. As much as I know him, he seems to be getting nothing more than anything these days.

He's always been restless, but now his restlessness grows more than ever. I sense a purpose as much as I sense floundering. I sense fear, as much as I sense defiance.

Waver not my friend, as this too shall pass. For in the ashes of a forest fire, sprout the seeds of hope. Seeds that bloom with the first sprinkle of monsoon. The monsoon may be late, sometimes by a few years even. But it does come. It shall come for you too and that I can promise.

Waver not my friend, though you may still be Zero. Yet you are my Hero.

Shaadi Ke Laddoo

2010-02-09T15:52:00.000+05:30

So the scene is set, a full strength Punjabi wedding party is raring to go – suitcases packed, food stuff checked, head count and more importantly luggage counts done thrice over … waiting for the taxis to arrive. The promised taxis do arrive on time but their number is one less than we had ordered. Turned out that the designated vehicle developed a fault and the replacement was 45 min away !! Frantic calls to other taxi companies returned a nought and by the time we fully assessed the situation, the entire wedding party had left for the station minus the bridegroom and his parents !! So my brain goes into overdrive and I hastily fetch an auto and pack mom & dad and a couple of heavy suitcases and off they went. And then the bigger realization dawns upon me. It is me who is supposed to get married and I am the only one who doesn’t have a ride to the station !!

Just then, an idea occurred to me and a quick jog later I was on the Metro to Indraprastha. All through the ride, I was on the phone trying to keep track of everybody else. The lot in the taxis were virtually at the station's doorstep by then and my parents had a 20 min head start.

Oblivious of Delhi’s mid day traffic, the Metro sailed over everyone’s head, dived into the earth’s bowels and emerged atop Indraprastha station in 35 mins flat. Scrambling off, I ran to the road outside and caught a DTC bus which dropped me a few minutes later outside Nizamuddin station's east entrance. Jogging up the stairs I checked with my parents who were climbing the stairs on the western side. The rest of my family was already on the platform and I joined them.

We were to take the Chattisgarh Sampark Kranti due on platform #6, while the August Kranti Rajdhani was berthed on #7 ready to leave for Bombay. Almost 25 mins had gone by and there was no sign of my parents. Meanwhile the Rajdhani started and within seconds it stopped following following an Alarm Chain Pull. There was a bit of commotion in one of the further coaches to which I didn’t pay much attention as I was busy calling mom trying to see where to they were. There was no reply on her phone despite repeated calls and we all got worried as our train had also been berthed by then. A couple of us fanned out on the platform and after frantic searching I saw them walking towards our train with Mom looking white as a sheet.

It so happened that my parents mistook the August Kranti for the Sampark Kranti and promptly hopped on to it. Only after the train moved that they realised that they had dialled the wrong number and promptly pulled the chain. The TTE who was standing right there caught hold of them and demanded that they pay a fine and bystanders being bystanders, they too had formed groups for and against my parents. All that drama was too much for my dad and he summarily gave the TTE a dressing down in choicest Punjabi. The TTE then relented and finally we were aboard the right train with each person and luggage article accounted for thrice.

All settled, We pulled out of the station and soon the racket created by my family drowned whatever anybody else was saying. Whatever the pantry boys brought was consumed in dozens be it tea, coffee, snacks or meals. I tried to hang around the door for a bit, but the cold weather make it nigh impossible.

Dad was busy recording everyone’s antics on his handycam as the flat green countryside disappeared in a blur. Darkness soon fell and we crossed Mathura, Agra and Gwalior for a non-stop run to Jhansi. By then most of the coach was sleeping - the silence punctuated by the bad-silencer-Yezdi snores of my uncle. I got off for a stroll on the platform pondering about the future that lay ahead for me. Twenty eight years of bachelorhood were about to become history. I was wondering how often will I get on a train to get to nowhere in particular? How often would I be able spend evenings doing what oly boys can do?

My reverie was broken the melodious twin tone horn of the engine ahead and I scrambled back in, since the new set of drivers seemed to be in a major hurry to get on with the job. Sleep came soon and I woke up to find us slowing down to enter station. We ended up way too early and had an hour before we could start.

Despite the morning chill, many passengers were up and about looking for their morning cuppa chai. Some were attempting a morning walk within the confines of the platform while others were doing stretching exercises. Away from all of this was yours truly, who was skulking around, armed with a camera waiting to pounce upon any unsuspecting trains that happened to pass by.

The sun was rising bright and strong as we cleared Katni and headed full steam into the Kipling country. Miles and miles of jungle with the odd town thrown in. Standing on the door, I was dreaming of Mowgli, Bagheera, Baloo & friends while keeping an eye for Sher Khan. Soon, jungle gave way to the industrial towns of Chhattisgarh as we crossed, Bilaspur, Raipur in quick succession.

Meanwhile, my family had started getting nervous about getting the luggage to the door. No matter how much I tried to convince that Durg is the train’s last stop and we needn’t worry, they won the argument and both the doors were blocked and I was summarily banned from hanging out of the door anymore. After all my in-laws would be waiting for me at Durg and I would have looked like a monkey hanging from the door as the train pulled in. So I walked back to my seat and sulked in silence while my family commandeered the door and the luggage and head count began again. They came up one person short…. they’d obviously forgotten to count the one person because of whose wedding they were there in the first place. However, the luggage count was perfect so it didn’t matter too much. Soon I was mobbed by my in-laws to be and bundled straight into the waiting car.

Thus ended by last train ride as a bachelor, (just a reminder, in case you’ve forgotten where this long winded story began)

Things to expect this decade

2010-01-27T12:06:00.007+05:30

The new decade has kicked off with a lunar crater being named after Shahrukh Khan. Here are more things you can expect over the next few years

1. The Ramalinga Raju Chair of Creative Accounting - to be set up at the Indian Institute of Banking & Finance and sponsored by Pricewaterhouse Coopers.

2. Dev Anand - the final instalment in the trilogy of films on human ageing,after The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and Paa

3. TRIPL - A new cricket series for Those Rejected by Indian Premier League

4. The Rakhi Sawant Channel - It's high time someone started that and spare us the misery of seeing her on the rest. As it is, she'd want one for herself once the programme Living with the Superstar goes on air

5. Rajini Kanth - The new name of Earth as proposed by the Association of Rajini Kanth Fan Clubs of India, more than eagerly supported by the Rajini Kanth fan club of Japan.

6. Mayawati - the new name of the universe as suggested by Mayawati herself

Right now I want to

2010-01-19T12:57:00.005+05:30

be standing on the the door of a train with a coffee and a cigarette in hand

sit on the edge of a mountain with my feet dangling off the edge

be on a motorcycle on a lonely mountain road

be in my bed sleeping

swim with the sharks

make a meal for my wife and watch movies on dvd with her

go to disneyland

go on a holiday with my wife once again

go on a holiday with my parents once again

play hockey with my buddies

resign from this desk job of mine

You only live twice

2010-01-17T21:46:00.002+05:30

" You only live twice: Once when you're born

And once when you look death in the face.”

-- Epigraph from 'You Only Live Twice' by Ian Fleming

As a sportsman, climber and insane driver I've had several moments where my life flashed past me in a second as I came tantalisingly close to snuffing myself out. At the same time, these very moments have been the pinnacle of my thrill-seeker alter ago. However, there was one moment.... nay 3 days when I stared death constantly in its face and have lived to tell the tale.

Caught in a snowstorm, 200m short of the summit, the three of us sought refuge underneath an overhang that provided some refuge from the blowing snow and howling wind. Between us, we had a couple of bars of chocolate and stories of cars, girls and travels that kept us going. The rest of the climbing party had no option but to leave us to our fate and retreat to the comfort of their tents, their camp meals and a sleeping bag.

Three days later, we staggered our way back, exhausted, numb, frostbitten and almost dead but yet alive. That day I vowed, I would live each day as if it were my last, and more so today since the two others NK and VM are not there anymore.

There are other ways to die as well.........

Red

2010-01-17T17:51:00.003+05:30

from Black

And then there is light, a shaft through the crack in the boards
Moments from life swirl in front of his eyes like the dust particles in the light
His face lights up in hope that maybe someone still remembers him
Maybe someone still knows that he lives
But then the car rounds the bend, leaving behind a fading red glow..

... white

Avatar - The 3D review

2009-12-18T10:23:00.004+05:30

Ok, I must admit it even before I start - I was dying to see this film. Something that has not happened for me in a long time. But then it was a James Cameron film so that counted for a lot.

So the wife and I got tickets for the paid-preview and were ready with our 3D goggles for the fun to begin. And boy, were we in for a ride!?!

The movie is visual masterpiece... the only adjective I can apply for the visuals is 'Tendulkaresque' and in case you were wondering what that means - it simply implies that there are no adjectives to describe it!

But then again you've seen it all. As good as the special effects are - they don't leave the same impact as the melting humanoid did in Terminator 2, or the dinosaurs of Jurassic Park. Maybe the bar is raised so high, that its impossible at the moment to move it further.

More than that, it seems all the effort was put into making the film look like no other. Hence, the scriptwriters, the dialouge writers and the actors were perhaps picked up at a garage sale and the net result shows.

The movie leaves you hollow at the end of the show... leaves you wanting for more. I mean the movie simply does not tax your brain in any way, like The Matrix did or for that matter even Mission: Impossible - the first. I would even say that the Terminator films (the first two) had a better plots, actors and lines.

And from what I could overhear at the end of the film while moving out of the theater - most from the fellow audience felt the same.

All said and done - go watch it at least once. I'd give it a 6/10 (just!!)

The Ugliest Cars... ever!

2009-12-11T17:06:00.014+05:30

A large part of the reason that a person buys a specific car because they think it looks good... ergo, they would look good sitting in them. Despite the fact that beauty lies in the eye of the beholder, I cannot, by any stretch of imagination figure out how anyone thought that these cars look good and in turn make them look good. Or I guess all of those who bought these were just ugly blokes who would have looked good even while sitting on the back of a baboon.

Lightburn Zeta

Built by an Australian company that otherwise makes cement mixers and washing machines, the Zeta looks as if someone stuck the headlights of a Premier Padmini (our own Indian Fiat) and a rickshaw's canvas roof to a fiberglass pedal boat with tyres stolen from a Bajaj auto. Clearly, Lightburn should've stuck to washing machines!

AMC Pacer

There is a limit to which things can be made to look hideous, but somehow the designers and engineers at the American Motors Corporation managed to find a way to exceed that limit. Considering that it was built in an era when consumption of LSD or marijuana was de rigueur amongst the ‘creative’ classes, I am assuming that this was perhaps the result of a collective doping orgy in the company factory. No other plausible explanation I’m afraid.

Volvo 240 (1974)

Apparently the Volvo designers wanted square wheels too, but it seems they are illegal in Sweden. That is the only concession made in a car that was otherwise designed with a chap who was only given a ruler. I am told that compasses and protractors were in short supply in Sweden due to a copyright dispute over lines and curves between the Swedes and Italians.

Matra – Talbot Rancho

Named after the monkey of a famous Indian ventriloquist – looks like it was designed by one too.

Citroen BX

What looks like the the net result of a large number of spare parts and sheet metal pieces glued together by someone who worked in a brick kiln, is actually the work of a gentleman known as Marcello Gandini. He otherwise made a living by designing cars like the Lamborghini Countach, Diablo and the evocative Bugatti EB 110! I told you… all these designers smoke pot!

Fiat Multipla

A shipment of vehicles meant for the planet of Mygeeto to Bothawui got lost in the space time continuum and landed up off the coast of Italy. Some enterprising fisherfolk sold off the lot to Fiat, who in the middle of a recession wanted to sell anything they could lay their hands on. The Multipla came free with a fridge just in case you wanted to up the ‘cool quotient’

Pontiac Aztek

A chap called Wayne Cherry was responsible for this one. He has mercifully retired since.

2009-11-26T14:48:00.008+05:30

Shuunya's One Year reminded me of my own post a year ago. This is what I had written...

"The day after today

I know what's going to happen after today..

1. There will be widespread condemnation of the terror attack on Mumbai. Everyone from Aso to Zardari would speak in the same language.

2. The Indian government would vow strict action against those responsible and promise to bring more changes.

3. Opposition parties would take the government to the cleaners. LK Advani would cry his hoarse throat worse by saying we told you so...

4. With the ATS bosses gone - The Malegaon case would now soon slip into oblivion

5. Since the perpetrators of the Mumbai attack were apparently Muslim Jihadis, the Thackreys and Togadias of the world would find more ammo to fuel their rabid, radical, anti-Muslim Hindutva.

6. The news channels, specially Barkha Dutt will have another field day(s) and later thump their chests for bringing the maximum number of exclusives.

7. Three days later when the people are back on the streets, the 'indomitable spirit of Mumbai' will make headlines again

8. The ISI, LET and the underworld, along with Al-Qaeda will be the prime suspects

9. All of us will shake our heads, check with our friends and relatives in Mumbai for their safety and then move on

10. There will be another date to remember 26/11"

With the thankful exclusion of point #10... everything else happened just the way I said. Maybe I should become a soothsayer now and make lots of money predicting stuff one of the stupid news channels. Or maybe the situation these days is such, that even a nitwit like me knows what'll happen next. So I just grin, bear it and hope that the next bomb doesn't kill me or anyone I love.

Nuclear Winter

2009-11-10T16:46:00.004+05:30

Having seen death, destruction and many other forms of monstrosities invented by man, I thought there wasn't much left which would move me to tears. But then I came across this bit of photojournalism from Kazakhstan. Images from towns and villages situated on the fringes of a former Soviet nuclear testing site. Simple folk, with virtually no understanding of the horrors being wreaked on their doorstep, they watched silently as nearly 500 nukes were exploded - and they being given no warning, no protection, not even simple education about what may follow.

The Soviets are long gone, and so are the nukes. But they have left behind things worse than death. Boston Globe's Big Picture this week covers the legacy the Soviets have left behind them in Semipalatinsk, Kazakhstan.

This might just happen to us as well.

The lonely flower

2009-11-09T17:40:00.009+05:30

In a sea of marigold, this lonely flower stood out proud, defiant, majestic...

--

Image Details:

Camera: Canon EOS 350D Digital
Lens: Sigma 70-300mm F/3.5-5.6 APO DG Macro
Aperture: f/7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
Focal Length: 300 mm
ISO Speed: ISO 200
Exposure : Aperture Priority / Macro

Wonderful Tonight

2009-10-14T23:06:00.004+05:30

It's late in the evening; and I'm wondering what to drink
I open my bar now and I search for the familiar stink
And then he asks me, "Am I the one for the night?"
And I say, "Yes, you'll be just perfect tonight."

We go to a party and everyone turns to see
This fat old man that's walking around with me.
And then they ask me, "Do you feel all right?"
And I say, "Yes, this feels wonderful tonight."

I feel wonderful because I see
The buzz shine in your eyes.
And the wonder of it all
Is that you just don't realize (how much I love you.)

It's time to go home now and I've got an aching head,
So I give him the car keys and he helps me to bed.
And then I tell him, as I turn out the light,
I say, "My darling, you were wonderful tonight.
Oh my darling, you were wonderful tonight."

--

BTW... the he is none other the Old Monk

Sing the above lyrics to the tune of Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton (my apologies)

Black

2009-10-13T11:42:00.003+05:30

Darkness falls as the wind picks up, winding its way through the broken windows.

Memories in faded ink on yellow paper get rustled...

The empty cans of beer in the corner clatter about, stirring the crumpled man on the floor...

There is no light, there never was, just a black winter night...

The throbbing pain in his head needs some balm,

He gets up... falls, tries again to no avail... it's just beyond him now

So he lies there, waiting for the morrow or the next

Maybe someone will come, maybe just...

.... Red

The Guardian

2009-10-07T23:01:00.007+05:30

In the time it takes for you to get from Delhi to Bombay in a train, more than 5,000 railwaymen have ensured that the tracks are clear and fit to operate, gates are closed and signals working properly. You barely register their faces as they pass by in a blur. Probably you'd recognise them just by the green flags they wave, signifying a safe passage for you and your loved ones.

Jaswant Singh is one such green flag without a face... but he is your guardian, like many of his brethren. Spare them a thought.

Image Details

Camera: Canon Powershot S2 IS
Aperture: f/5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/1000 sec
Focal Length: 50 mm (300mm - 35mm equivalent)
ISO Speed: ISO 80
Exposure : Auto

2009-09-17T22:21:00.003+05:30

Banging noises like someone is exploding a series of diwali bombs in a utensil shop..
Sounds like a Pink Floyd song about to break loose....
A space shuttle about to take off...
A doped out bum in a death metal concert...
The Sholay scene when Sachin's body enters Ramgarh on horseback....
A train on metal sleepers....

That's what an MRI scan is like....

my brain still works fine though

The mask

2009-09-12T00:03:00.001+05:30

Sometimes you wonder who you really are? What the world thinks you to be or the person you're pretending to be? A mask is convenient, but does the mirror ever lie?

Split Seconds

2009-08-28T23:27:00.001+05:30

On a recent trip to South East and East India, I went mad with the drive mode on my camera. Compiled in a series... it made interesting viewing... have a look

4play or 4get it

2009-08-25T10:16:00.004+05:30

You read it right, but that's not me who's demanding it, but a bunch of Israeli women who took out a rally in Tel Aviv recently to complain about the lack of romance among their men.

Don't believe me? Have a look

(Image courtesy AFP/ Times of India)

Now that is a real blotch on the reputation of Israeli men. Seems like they are the wham bam, thank you ma'am types ;-)

How do Indian men fare on this front? Any answers ladies?

Verbs

2009-08-19T15:25:00.010+05:30

Awake... with the stars still in the sky, the wind rustling in the woods

Sleep... when the world is awake, sleep when you want

Breathe... breathe in the spirit of your own existance

Exhale... all that is past, the useless, the worthless

Live... for the promise of tomorrow is as true as the tooth fairy

Die... die you must, because to live is to die

Love... love all that you want for that's the only thing in the world that's free

Hate... hate all that you want to hate, who's stopping you?

Surmise... if what you want is really what you need

Realize... that you alone can choose where you go from here

We the virus

2009-08-06T09:52:00.008+05:30

From The Matrix (1999)

"I'd like to share a revelation that I've had during my time here. It came to me when I tried to classify your species and I realized that you're not actually mammals.

Every mammal on this planet instinctively develops a natural equilibrium with the surrounding environment but you humans do not. You move to an area and you multiply and multiply until every natural resource is consumed and the only way you can survive is to spread to another area. There is another organism on this planet that follows the same pattern. Do you know what it is? A virus.

Human beings are a disease, a cancer of this planet."

Guess what, the more I think on these lines, the more true it seems.... isn't it?

August

2009-08-03T11:20:00.006+05:30

You tended my wounds when she died... you were awake with me all night on many a night... you were the pillars of my life.

I've spent many sleepless nights wishing I too was in that car with you ... many sleepless nights cursing the one that ran way.

Many sleepless nights remembering that day when you told me that you'd sing "I'll be missing you" by Puff Daddy when I die... instead it was me who was left standing in the rain to identify your dead bodies.

Years have gone by and life has unsuccesfully tried to sandpaper the jagged edges.. but in August those edges hurt even more.

The Buddha

2009-07-18T12:41:00.005+05:30

One of his students asked Buddha, "Are you the messiah?"

"No", answered Buddha.
"Then are you a healer?"
"No", Buddha replied.
"Then are you a teacher?" the student persisted.
"No, I am not a teacher."
"Then what are you?" asked the student, exasperated.
"I am awake", Buddha replied.

Image Details:

Camera: Canon EOS 350D Digital
Lens: Canon EF 70-200mm F/4 L
Aperture: f/6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/500 sec
Focal Length: 163 mm
ISO Speed: ISO 200
Exposure : Manual

In thin air.... update

2009-07-17T09:52:00.005+05:30

Last month, I'd written a post about problem's India's Air Force is facing due to a high rate of crashes as well as delays in the induction of the LCA. Here is an update on the same which underlines my point

I'd written...

"The programme was conceived in 1983 with the aim to have an indigenous aircraft to replace the 'aging' Mig-21 which were the backbone of the Indian Air Force and were nearly 15 years old then. Today, 26 years later - the LCA is yet to be inducted in the IAF and the Mig-21 is still the most numerous aircraft in the IAF's inventory. Out of a total fleet of some 630 combat aircraft, more than 200 are from the Mig-21 family. Even now, it isn't yet clear when then LCA would enter active combat service. 2012 is said to be the earliest when it is likely to happen.

The reasons for the LCA's delay are many - including those related to sanctions imposed by the US following the nuclear tests carried out by the BJP Govt in 1998, which meant that the project could not use the GE404 engine as planned. However, DRDO had also started parallel work on another engine called Kaveri which has practically failed all requisite tests in the last 23 years marking it as another dud that DRDO has produced. The initial versions of the plane, whenever it goes into serial production would be powered by Eurojet or GE engines.

The LCA project has exceeded Rs 10,000 crore in development costs. In 1996, the projected cost per unit was $10-17m which went up to $24m in 2001 and now it has gone up to $35m apiece!

That beggars one simple question? Why spend a gazillion bucks out of the taxpayers pocket to develop the LCA? Wouldn't it have been better to simply buy proper new aircraft and save money and lives from being lost?"

Now read t h i s report from Flightglobal.com

"India's homegrown Tejas light combat aircraft is unlikely to be qualified by December 2010 as currently planned, with the date for its initial operational capability likely to be postponed.

The Aeronautical Development Agency now expects to conduct the first flight of limited series production aircraft LSP-3 no sooner than September. It has yet to integrate the platform's air data and digital flight control computers, or receive final software for its Israeli-sourced multi-mode radar.

Engine issues also continue to dog the Tejas effort. The Indian air force has ordered an initial batch of 20 General Electric F404-IN20-powered examples, but needs an improved aircraft with a power output of at least 20,225lb thrust (90kN) to meet its operational requirements.

Hindustan Aeronautics plans to produce a more powerful Mk II version of the Tejas, but the air force has recently rejected a proposal under which France's Snecma would have assisted India's Gas Turbine Research Establishment (GTRE) in completing development of the troubled indigenous Kaveri powerplant. The GTRE and Snecma are challenging the decision. "

Further, I had written ....

"The Indian Air Force today is struggling to maintain its inventory - back in 2007 the Air Chief Marshal had sent out a warning about the dwindling numbers - its 2009 and nothing has been done. Today, we are less than 32 squadrons strong whereas the minimum sanctioned strength of the IAF should be 39.5 squadrons. That's about 100 aircraft less than what we should be and this does not include the number of aircraft grounded for lack of spares.

As far as I can see, the situation will not improve even the next 3-4 years. The Mig-21s won't last beyond 2012. The Tejas would not be ready in significant numbers to fill that gap, nor would there be enough Sukhoi Su-30s. The Mig-29s are ageing and so is the Mig 27 / Jaguar fleet. The MRCA is still a competition and lord knows when the first plane would be bought.

At this rate by 2012 we simply will not have enough aircraft to protect both the Chinese and Pakistani borders. The government needs to realize this soon or we'll flying without wings in thin air. The government needs to realize this soon or we'll flying without wings in thin air."

Now one comes across another report on Flightglobal which quotes Defence Minister, AK Antony. It says and I quote

"An average of one fixed-wing military aircraft crashed every month in India during the past three years, with the country's defence minister telling parliament that most of the losses were due to "human errors and technical defects".

AK Antony told legislators that 37 fixed-wing aircraft have crashed since 1 April 2006, with 19 helicopters also having been lost during the same period. Together, the incidents resulted in the deaths of 34 military personnel....

The modernisation of the Indian air force has taken on added urgency due to a spate of accidents that mainly involved the service's older Russian-made fighters. Antony said earlier this month that there have been 22 crashes involving MiG fighters since 1 April 2006.

An Indian competition to buy 126 medium multirole combat aircraft is at the field evaluation stage, and a contract is likely to be signed in the 2010-11 financial year. New Delhi had hoped to begin taking delivery of its first new aircraft from 2012, but industry sources widely expect this to slip."

I am sure the Defence Strategists in China and Pakistan must reading this situation with glee, while I can hardly fathom what our own people are up to.

Paimona

2009-07-16T21:51:00.003+05:30

A brilliant mathematician and astronomer, Omar Khayyam was also a wonderful poet. His Rubaiyat is considered to be a landmark in Persian poetry.

Recently, a sample of his amazing work was rendered in the most touching fashion by the Pakistani duo Zeb & Haniya during a performance at Coke Studio 2.

Here are the original lyrics in Dari (a form of Pashto mixed with Farsi) and the English translation.

Paimana Bideh Ki Khumaar Astam..
Paimana Bideh Ki Khumaar Astam..
Man Aashiq-e Chashm-e Mast-e-Yarastam..
Man Aashiq-e Chashm-e Mast-e-Ya...rastam..
Bidee Bidee Ki Khumoor Astam..
Paimana Bideh Ki Khumaar Astam..

Chashmat Ki Ba ahoo-e Khutan Mimanad..
Ruyat Ba Gulab Haa-e Chaman Mimanad...
Gul Rob-e Kunaid Waraq Waraq Bu-e Kunaid
Ba Lalaezar Be Watam Mi Ayad.......

Paimana Bideh Ki Khumaar Astam
Paimana Bideh Ki Khumaar Astam..
Man Aashiq-e Chashm-e Mast-e-Yarastam
Man Aashiq-e Chashm-e Mast-e-Ya...rastam
Bideh Bideh Ki Khumaar Astam....
Paimana Bideh Ki Khumaar Astam....

Az Amadan-e Tagar Khabar Mi Daashtan...
Pesh-e Qadamat Kucha Ra Gul Mi Kashtan...
Gul Mi Kashtan, Gul-e Gulab Mi Kashtan..
Khak-e Qadamat Pad-e Dam-e War Daashtan...
Paimana Bideh...

Paimana Bideh...
Paimana Bideh... Ki Khumaar Astam
Paimana Bideh Ki Khumaar Astam..
Man Aashiq-e Chashm-e Mast-e-Yarastam
Man Aashiq-e Chashm-e Mast-e-Ya....rastam
Bideh Bideh... Wai Wai
Bideh Bideh... Wai.. Wai Wai
Bideh Bideh Ki Khumaar Astam
Paimana Bideh Ki Khumaar....... Astam....

--

Bring me the glass so I may lose myself
Bring me the glass so I may lose myself
I am in love with my beloved's intoxicating eyes
I am in love with my beloved's intoxicating eyes
Bring, bring so i may lose myself
Bring me the glass so I may lose myself

Your eyes light up the garden of Khutan
Your face lights up the roses in the gardens
Face like a flower, it gives petals their fragrance
The Land of my beloved is Lalazar

Bring me the glass so I may lose myself
Bring me the glass so I may lose myself
I am in love with my beloved's intoxicating eyes
I am in love with my beloved's intoxicating eyes
Bring, bring so i may lose myself
Bring me the glass so I may lose myself

If I hear of your arrival
I will spread a carpet of flowers under your feet
Spread flowers, spread rose flowers
I will sacrifice myself at the dust of your feet
Bring the glass...

Bring the glass...

Bring me the glass so I may lose myself
I am in love with my beloved's intoxicating eyes
I am in love with my beloved's intoxicating eyes
Bring, bring..
Bring, bring..
Bring, bring so i may lose myself
Bring me the glass so I may lose myself
--
Thanks to Faiz and mahwish1 for the lyrics

Hobbies

2009-07-14T18:01:00.003+05:30

I am the administrator of a hobby group which encompasses a website and a mailing list. Over the years as the membership has grown, there seems to be this mad rush to show off one's knowledge about the subject or be one of the most popular and respected photographers in the group and so on.

In an effort to achieve that, people seem to be resorting to cheap tactics, deriding others, calling each other names and God knows what else. I even know of incidents when a chap changed the settings of another one's camera so that his photos would be below par!

I come across many such cases these days, and today I even had to suspend two members who got down to abuses just to prove one is more knowledgable than the other.

Has the word 'hobby' taken a new meaning these days?

Chuck Norris Facts - II

2009-07-10T13:34:00.004+05:30

Some more Chuck Norris Facts

1. If you have five dollars and Chuck Norris has five dollars, Chuck Norris has more money than you.

2. Chuck Norris can slam a revolving door

3. If, by some incredible space-time paradox, Chuck Norris would ever fight himself, he'd win. Period.

4. The Bible was originally titled "Chuck Norris and Friends"

5. In a fight between Batman and Darth Vader, the winner would be Chuck Norris.

--

And here are some I made up

1. Chuck Norris is not barred from participating in the Olympics, he just considers the competition to be weak enough to stay away.

2. Chuck Norris is the Stig !!

3. Chuck Norris once came to Delhi, and then the Monkey Man disappeared

An inspirational feel good post

2009-07-08T11:44:00.005+05:30

Sometime ago, I'd written a feel-good post on how our life are better than what we think it is.

Now, my favourite cartoonist Stephen Pastis has done a feel good post on his blog (which is a MUST READ) and I'd like to reproduce it here for the benefit of one and all

--

An Inspirational Feel-Good Post to Share With Any of Your Friends or Neighbors Who Could Really Use a Boost Today

July 7, 2009
I just read a book on Genghis Khan. I learned three things.

1) Genghis Khan’s warriors ate koumiss. Koumiss is fermented mare’s milk. Sometimes they would let it harden in the sun so they could snack on it later. Think of it as a poor man’s Frito.

2) When out of koumiss, these guys drank their own horse’s blood. Straight from the horse’s vein. Sometimes they’d let the blood harden like they did the koumiss, so they’d have two snacks later. Mongol warriors were just loaded with snacks.

3) When these warriors stepped out of line, their punishment was to be wrapped in huge woven rugs. That might sound okay, but consider this. They were then trampled by horses.

In all the other moments of their day, they were trying not to be killed in battle. And it was below freezing. And nobody bathed.

So if you are having a bad day today because the fax didn’t go through, or the Chevy wouldn’t start, look at the bright side:

You are not chomping on fermented mare’s milk.

Happy for them

2009-07-03T10:16:00.004+05:30

It has finally happened.

And I am very happy for the homosexual community. Years ago, as a teenager - I was introduced to homosexuality in the worst way possible. I was accosted by gays in parks, in elevators, on the road and even in railway reservation queues. Every homosexual I met, wanted to have me. So it was only natural for me to look at them with suspicion, disgust and even fear.

But of late my perception changed as I met normal, regular people like you and I who just happened to be gay. The more I spoke to them, I realized that there was nothing wrong with them - they just happened to be wired differently if I may put it that way. At the end of the day, it was just a matter of choice - like choosing butter chicken over pizza.

I am glad that my perception changed, because the ones I know today happen to be good friends. And I am glad that the powers to be today recognize their freedom of choice. A big 'up for the gay community, and a big 'up for the Indian judiciary. Now lets just hope that there are others around who change their perception about them, the way I changed.

The trouble...

2009-07-01T13:19:00.002+05:30

....with being punctual is that no one is there to appreciate it - Chinese proverb

Manali by night

2009-06-27T11:25:00.004+05:30

The hill resort town of Manali glows in the darkness as the Pir Panjals loom large in the background.

--
Image details:

Camera: Canon Powershot S2 IS
Aperture: f/3.2
Shutter Speed: 15 sec
Focal Length: 36 mm
ISO Speed: ISO 100
Exposure : 0 ev

The King

2009-06-26T10:29:00.004+05:30

The King is dead....long live the King

Winds of change

2009-06-25T10:46:00.003+05:30

Of late, I was having trouble managing two blogs, especially my photoblog 'Light & Lens'. Hence I thought, its best to merge the two and run the show from one central location.

So ladies and gentlemen, Light & Lens is officially part of this blog :-) All posts and comments have been imported and incorporated at this joint.

Making music... and how !?!

2009-06-22T15:45:00.007+05:30

There are music shows and there are music shows. But every once in a while something comes your way that blows away all known rules, patterns and norms and creates a space, a genre for itself.

One such event is the Coke Studio series. I came across the first season while surfing random videos on youtube, and by the end of the evening - I had the entire series downloaded.

Pakistani music producer Rohail Hayat brought together artists from various genres of the Pakistani music scene and got them to jam and perform live - the result? Sheer magic.

I was eagerly looking forward to season 2 - and minutes into the first video - the bat had been raised beyond the stratosphere. Sain Zahoor & Noori collaborated to come up with this otherworldly rendition of a Bulleh Shah kafi, Aik Alif.

Now I hope SOMEONE in Bollywood or at Coke comes up with the brilliant idea of copying this format and get some of the Indian artists to perform like this. PLEASE...

In thin air

2009-06-18T18:17:00.006+05:30

Another Mig-21 crashed today, thankfully though its pilot ejected safely. Even the Indian Air Force by now would have lost track of how many Mig-21s it has lost in air crashes in the last decade. As with all crashes, a press release saying "We will investigate" - would be dished out and all will be forgotten till the next crash happens.

One wonders what the government is doing about it? Pat would come the answer - "We're building the LCA 'Tejas' to replace the MiG-21." So what's with the LCA? Well DRDO is working hard to develop it... DRDO?? WTF is DRDO ??

'The Defence Research and Development Organization or the DRDO as it is commonly known touts itself as "... a network of more than 50 laboratories which are deeply engaged in developing defence technologies covering various disciplines, like aeronautics, armaments, electronics, combat vehicles, engineering systems, instrumentation, missiles, advanced computing and simulation, special materials, naval systems, life sciences,training, information systems and agriculture. Presently, the Organisation is backed by over 5000 scientists and about 25,000 other scientific, technical and supporting personnel. Several major projects for the development of missiles, armaments, light combat aircrafts, radars, electronic warfare systems etc are on hand and significant achievements have already been made in several such technologies.'

The above spiel has been taken directly from the DRDO website. So lets see what this amazing organization has done about one of its most high profile projects - the Light Combat Aircraft (LCA), now known as the Tejas.

The programme was conceived in 1983 with the aim to have an indigenous aircraft to replace the 'aging' Mig-21 which were the backbone of the Indian Air Force and were nearly 15 years old then.Today, 26 years later - the LCA is yet to be inducted in the IAF and the Mig-21 is still the most numerous aircraft in the IAF's inventory. Out of a total fleet of some 630 combat aircraft, more than 200 are from the Mig-21 family. Even now, it isn't yet clear when then LCA would enter active combat service. 2012 is said to be the earliest when it is likely to happen.

The reasons for the LCA's delay are many - including those related to sanctions imposed by the US following the nuclear tests carried out by the BJP Govt in 1998, which meant that the project could not use the GE404 engine as planned. However, DRDO had also started parallel work on another engine called Kaveri which has practically failed all requisite tests in the last 23 years marking it as another dud that DRDO has produced. The initial versions of the plane, whenever it goes into serial production would be powered by Eurojet or GE engines.

The LCA project has exceeded Rs 10,000 crore in development costs. In 1996, the projected cost per unit was $10-17m which went up to $24m in 2001 and now it has gone up to $35m apiece!

That beggars one simple question? Why spend a gazillion bucks out of the taxpayers pocket to develop the LCA? Wouldn't it have been better to simply buy proper new aircraft and save money and lives from being lost?

I'm sure the Swadeshi party would be at my throats by now - but hey look where we are now...The Indian Air Force today is struggling to maintain its inventory - back in 2007 the Air Chief Marshal had sent out a warning about the dwindling numbers - its 2009 and nothing has been done. Today, we are less than 32 squadrons strong whereas the minimum sanctioned strength of the IAF should be 39.5 squadrons. That's about 100 aircraft less than what we should be and this does not include the number of aircraft grounded for lack of spares.

As far as I can see, the situation will not improve even the next 3-4 years. The Mig-21s won't last beyond 2012. The Tejas would not be ready in significant numbers to fill that gap, nor would there be enough Sukhoi Su-30s. The Mig-29s are ageing and so is the Mig 27 / Jaguar fleet. The MRCA is still a competition and lord knows when the first plane would be bought.

At this rate by 2012 we simply will not have enough aircraft to protect both the Chinese and Pakistani borders. The government needs to realize this soon or we'll flying without wings in thin air.

The man outside the toilet

2009-05-31T03:14:00.002+05:30

There is a portly man who stands in the narrow passage that leads to the men's room of the pub i frequent.

He salutes everyone who goes to relieve himself, opens the door for them. He expects a tip maybe, but no one gives him anything. But i gave him an obscene amount of money today.

Certainly not out of largesse, but for the reason that i wonder what would be his motivation - to stand there each evening and do it over and over again, probably for a salary that is perhaps one twentieth of the average patron's bill.

If he can do that crap job with a smile, so can i do mine. Because of him, i don't hate my job anymore. I must count my blessings for what i am able to take home each month, and what i can spend in that pub....

For the loudest laugh in days

2009-05-29T15:06:00.003+05:30

Stephen Pastis is at it again.... he outdoes it himself over and over

Here, enjoy it for yourself

Pearls Before Swine rocks !!

And I thought I had seen it all..

2009-05-18T11:14:00.005+05:30

Late night TV these days usuall consists of downright hilarious Teleshopping ads peddling anything from slimming tablets, fancy kitchen implements or gemstones (the K'Ekta Kapur variety) promising untold fortunes.

But what turned up in an ad on my Facebook home page takes the cake - it sells 'Luxury Mangalsutras'!! Didn't know that these to came in the Bentley / Rolls Royce version !! But what takes the cake is the name of the website peddling them, it's called www.stylevati.com - now that takes full marks for ingenuity from me...

Here's a reproduction of the ad - see it for yourself

Luxury Mangalsutra

At Stylevati.com, our philosophy is simple, offer high-class glamorous Mangalsutra designs and jewelry at outstanding prices.

(by the way, Google Chrome advises against visiting the site as it appears to host malware... so browse at your own risk)

Two Damn Cool Movie Intros

2009-05-13T22:08:00.003+05:30

Two of my favourite movies have their intro set to two of my favourite songs.

Gone In 60 Seconds - Flower by Moby

Dangerous Minds - Gangsta's Paradise by Coolio featuring LV

By the way, is it a coincidence that Jerry Bruckheimer is the producer of both films?

The Wait and the Waitlisted

2009-05-13T00:42:00.001+05:30

These two images were taken during the course of my train travels across the country. The first, was taken at Kanpur station on a winter night where these two gentlemen patiently waited for their train to take them back to their village.

The other one was taken at Itarsi in Madhya Pradesh. As my Bombay bound train halted for a brief while, wait-listed passengers pleaded with the TTE for a berth just to able to spend the New Year with their families.

--

Image Details: The Wait
Camera: Sony DSC-P41
Aperture: f/2.8
Shutter Speed: 1.3 sec
Focal Length: 28 mm
ISO Speed: ISO 100

Image Details: The Wait
Camera: Sony DSC-P41
Aperture: f/2.8
Shutter Speed: 1 sec
Focal Length: 28 mm
ISO Speed: ISO 320

Travel

2009-05-11T17:53:00.004+05:30

Station platforms on a cold evening
The smell of chai and bread omelette...

Cheap paperbacks at a bus stand
Conductors screaming at the top of their voices...

Rum and coke in shady bars with red and green light bulbs
Thick cigarette smoke hanging in the air...

Butter chicken and naan at the highway dhaba
Truckers' tales, Country Liquor on a charpoy...

Side lower berth during monsoon days
Pearls of water dripping from the window bars...

Mountain air burning my nostrils
The sun rising over the snowy peaks...

The Hidden Gem

2009-04-21T21:21:00.008+05:30

Sometime last year, I just heard strains of "Allah Hoo" in the promos of the movie Khuda Ke Liye. Those were enough to convince me to buy the disc and to this date the haunting voice behind Allah Hoo plays in my car almost daily. Unfortunately, the CD did not carry any credits for the music, but after a little bit of hunting, I came across the man behind the song - a voice so great that I was left wondering to this day how was I unaware of him till recently.

The voice in the song belongs a man called Zahur Ahmed, better known as Sain Zahur. He is an absolute illliterate, but it is said that he knows more than 10,000 songs. Most of us are familar with Sufi verses due to the likes of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, Abida Parveen, Wadali Brothers or more recently through Rabbi Shergill or Junoon. But that's not his what is so special about him. What makes him special that he sings those Sufi verses as they were perhaps sung by the real Sufis - the wandering minstrels who roamed all over the subcontinent, an ektara in hand singing in praise of their Murshid. He ladies and gentleman

is the Real McCoy. His voice is unlike that of the classical trained Sufi singers that we know - he sings the way the songs were really sung.

He won the BBC's "Voice of the Year - 2006" purely on word of mouth - He hadn't cut a record to date. He learnt his music at the Dargah of Baba BUlleh Shah of all people, and has wandered from dargah to dargah since he was young boy. His attire is those of the Sufis of old, with ghungroos on his feet and tassels around his ektara - dancing his way into a trance. Hear him - for he is the voice of the great men themselves.

">

Nano - a view from the other side

2009-04-07T12:48:00.005+05:30

While the Indian press and public have been going ga-ga over the Tata Nano, let's have a look at what the world thinks of it. Of course most of the stuff dished out is by guys who've never been to India nor seen / driven the Nano for real - but its still fascinating to have a look at their perspective.

Foreman, a popular blogger on the Top Gear Website has this to say, "... Avoid all the options (like a brake servo, lighter socket or parcel shelf) and it comes in under £1,400. Small wonder its home country, India, is going berserk for the Tata Nano." More interesting though are the comments on this post.

Kilroy says, "When it finally arrives in Europe, at least you can be assured that it would never be stolen.. No self-respecting little chav would be caught dead in one for fear of being beaten to death by the rest of his mates…..
Remember those old Skoda jokes years ago? Like how do you double the value of a Skoda? Fill it with petrol?? Gentlemen, I give you your new Skoda… At least Skoda got better as time went on…"

while Qasim says, "Look, the thing is, no matter how much hype they make about this car in India, it is still, for most, too damn expensive.
People in the sub-continent have to take loans that take decades, even generations for some families to clear.Vicious cycle, Economics 101. I fear like many things, this may too, be an elusive dream for most Indians..."

And here is what F1fan says, "im an indian(a pretty well off one at that) and this madness seriously degrades me. A stupid little pointless peace of rubbish to my culture , I say. Anyways, how would I know? I drive an R8."

A Washington Post reporter test drove a Nano recently, and this is is her perspective. She writes and I quote, "On the track, with one of the car's engineers offering encouragement from the passenger seat, it felt comfortable and surprisingly sturdy and spacious. The seats are set high off the road, allaying some people's fear that it would be like driving a go-cart. In a country where a family car must provide space for mothers-in-law, the car has vast legroom."

People who commented on her article are mostly Indian, and here is a sample of what they had to say..

"fairenbalanced wrote: another condescending piece of crap article about India tinged with jealousy by ms wax, who should be sent back to wherever she came from. comparing a car to a lawnmower, words like pride and self esteem thrown in. im sick of these condescending pricks. proud, esteem, you guys are proud of your troops."

" Bangal wrote: What a arrogant attitude! Half of the article devoted to bashing India's traffic. Did you forget traffic jams in LA, NY, Chicago and of your beloved Washington DC? If we have revamped Nano in here instead of the gas guzzler,we better we be better of economically and environmentally."

While the lines are drawn and the vote is divided, here is my personal take. I think the Nano is a great car - an engineering achievement at the cost at which is going to be sold. But frankly its going to lead to more chaos in the small towns. Any one who's tried to drive through towns like Saharanpur, Agra, Bayana or Nellore would probably understand what I am trying to say.

It is commendable for a company like Tata to come up with an affordable car for Indians, but what we also need are the roads to drive them on. Sadly, there seems to be no effort in that direction from the authorities. The Nano will sell regardless of what people say about it - but I can only see the situation on the street going from bad to worse.

Now... you can chew my head off too :D