..bas chalte jaana hai!!!

Long time there blogger pals. Hullo. Time’s jus been flying these days. Trickling of people from the ppl m in touch with list has already begun. I am proud to say I have by far managed to overcome my fb-addiction (not havin a net connection, n keepin min bal on ur cel has done the trick). I hope it remains so even when I return bac home. I wont say m tired of pune, but m not sure I can endure stayin here more. After weeks I have got bac into a routine. I managed to break my habit of sleeping at 2, so m in bed by 11 (max 12…) n yes I do manage to get up early n go for walks.

Walks on pune roads are the most pleasant times of my day. I enjoy walking. Sometimes it’s a slow lingering, lost in thought walk; when the noises around are silenced by those in the head, other times it’s the all fresh n ready to roll , confident walk. (that’s the one in the mornings mostly, when m on ma way fr breakfast n formerly when I used to go to class). Walking during most working hours tends to b a lil unpleasant cos of the pollution.(u can feel the fumes pass through into ur system).

Morning walks are the best. Pune has this super cool climate…(super cool by Goan standards) , so when u step out of the room, for a second u get the feelin that u gonna freeze out there. But the whole walkin effort beats it, n then u have these triumphant droplets of sweat trickling down the sides of ur cheek (n if u have burnt enuf calories, even down ur spine). Its refreshing! Seriously refreshing. (better than chai n coffee). Sometimes when ma head is clogged with too many things, I jus go out for a walk, n then m bac n al fresh….

There are a lot of interesting people u happen to see on these morning walks. Pune streets in the mornings are ruled by senior citizens. Ul see them everywhere, from the ground to the tea shop at the corner. (unlike the evenings when the streets are flooded by the youth). It gives a very homely n sheltered feel to the streets, kind of the one I get when I visit ma grandparents. These guys club up and talk about everything and nethin, esp when u are one of those kinds who d rather not look at the newspaper, u cud jus spend some half a hour at the chai walla when some of these guys are around. I have this habit of guessing wat their professions cud possibly be (or have been). So now I have some 5 professors that I meet every day, another 5 who I believe are in some form of service, an ex army man, the guy who plays tennis (this one’s the most peculiar. He is not too old, something 50s, sports long curly hair; that are tied behind; he is a regular at the chai walla, and everyday he is distributing his gyan to the person sitting infron of him, sometimes even the chai walla. He is one of those men with a magnetic personality. He speaks.. n u are all ears).

Walking is fun n healthy. And its more fun when u are not bound by destination n time (like me in pune). Its those aimless walks that are the most fun. N thanks to ma walking around here, I have finally learnt to keep track of roads n give accurate directions. (both which I wud miserably screw up b4). Walking has also made me a keen observer. When u r walking with someone, mostly u tend to strike a conversation n u don often tend to notice whats happening around (atleast I don), but when alone u note everything on the road. Thoughts jus flow, in and out, sometimes they trigger memories but more often than not happier ones.

The second walk of the day, that I don usually miss is the tea-time walk. Somewhere between 5.30 and 6. Its when the airs jus getting cooler, n its like the perfect time to go grab a cup of tea (n cream roll). Then go for a stroll, buy milk on the way, or if u in a mood, then go street shopping…n then come bac n sit on the swing where m usually joined by my roomie wher we swing into the dark

Gosh m I gonna miss these things when I go bac home!!!!!

(routines jus happen, u don alwes plan them)

diwali

dunno y i find them so mesmerising!

the following 2 were clicked last year



the kartik i made this diwali!

to mumbai and back

On account of an interview, I had my first solitary tryst with the city of dreams. Since I have come to Pune, I have developed a child like delight towards everything I come across. Its neither disapproval nor immediate acceptance, jus pure delight—free from prejudices. I somehow manage to look at things of devoid of opinions abt it to bother my view!

The 5 hour journey cud b split into 2 distinct phases –the first one that took 3 hours from pune to navi Mumbai (tats like wher the metropolis begins, if m nt mistaken) and the second that took 2 hours to cover almost half the distance traversed before. Despite of the long journey, it was much pleasant. The lonavla-khandala stretch was spectacular. I was happy to see the greens, though they were markedly different from the lush goan landscapes. Bare rocks were prominent between the green beds. The roads unwound leisurely, and did full justice for neone who wanted have a running view of the valley. (visiting this place at a more leisurely convenience is another thing I have placed in my checklist now).

Mumbai, as many must have experienced, moves much faster off the streets than on it. Our bus stood back at every junction, and I was beginning to get a little restless (in bus journeys I alwes get anxious of getting down at the wrong stop). The bus finally stopped at Dadar, and the bus doors opened to taxi drivers who tugged at ur bags almost dragging u into the cab. The journey from the bus stop to the guest house proved even longer than I expected, some one n a half hours, with numerous detours cos of the mata (It was navratri time). There were times when I contemplated walkin would be faster, but well I sat through the long queues at never endin traffic signals and junctions. The taxi driver put in lame efforts at serving as a tourist guide, but soon discovered he could not maintain a reasonable conversation.

By the time I reached the guest house I was reasonably tired, I popped in the bed after a bath. Had a lot to catch up for the interview next day.

The interview was fun. Was happy with the realization that engineers all around are not much different, but there were vast differences in wat we studied, n how we were exposed to stuff. Lessons learnt. I met my buddy in the later part of the evening, and we settled for a coffee since it was already getting dark by the time we moved out of the interview. The following day was again spent in nostalgia with lots of photos n vids, n crazy talks with buddy at his place.
I was happy to see the sea, but then it din feel like the seas in goa. In goa, we have got really spectacular landscapes, landscapes that u almost never get tired of it, their essence remains unchanged despite of their inherent dynamic nature.

Mumbai was crowded. I guess that’s not a new observation. But on one night at the guest house, the skyscrapers glittered in the dark as the crescent moon rose up. The night looked beautiful. The sky above twinkled and the so did the city below. It was like moon dust was sprinkled, and it sparkled from all around. It felt surreal, dreamlike.

Even if u had or din have the means to be up in those glittering skyscrapers, the city runs on a dreamy hope. A hope that binds everyone who lives in it, and enchants and attracts all those who come to it!

The city of dreams indeed!

play times

When I was as ol as calvin (calvin n hobbes) , all I could think of was play. Blessed with a school without notebooks and textbooks, my childhood was an endless playtime. I loved to play. Bro and me the eternal playmates. We played stuff from bhatukli (house-house, o whatever u guys called it) to marbles and seven tiles and dabascot (a modified form of hide n seek). The best of them al dhabadhubi. Games that are almost non existent now.

The choice of games would alwes be dictated by the number of people available to play, and the hour of the day. No kid would ever stay at home beyond 5 p.m. goin to frens place to call em to play was an everyday ritual. Then there would be levels amongst them, neighbours, building frens, gully frens, school frens (those ones that would come occasionally to play at ur place). Playtime was the singlemost universally awaited time of the day in the whole of the kiddo community.

When it was my bros turn to select games, we would playing with gi-joes n cars, o sometimes jus running around the house playing “vaghoba” (that was the max scary creature we could come up with, not due to limitations on our imagination, but thinkin of netin beyond that, would inevitably giv both of us nightmares). I don remember dictating the games beyond the occasional demand for bhatukli.

In the evening we would play in the garden below the building. There would be things like game of the week o game of the month, wher we would play the same game til we bored ourselves of it. that zeal, passion, those raised voices, panicky shouts n all that, winning meant so much, no matter if it was hide n seek o marbles. I and my bro were a great team at marbles. We had like a tin full of marbles that we had earned (yeah marbles in those times would be played on lines similar to gambling, and the winner got to keep the marbles. Bro and me had accumulated some 100 o so).

Hide and seek was alwes left for the darker hours of the evening. While its cousin “dabbascot” ( m not sure if it’s the right spelling, that’s the best I could come up with from the way we used to call it) would be spread over wider areas and in brighter light, usually noon time. It was a crude game where the denner stood in a circle and threw a tattered shoe (or a dabba, or anything we could lay our hands on) and the others who would be in hiding, had to replace the shoe back into the circle and yell dabbascot.

But my favorite game was dhabadhubi. The one wher u divide urselves in two teams and throw a ball (could be tennis, rubber o for milder versions paper) to kill (yes we belong to a pro-carnage society) the members of the opposition. it wasn’t an easy game. In the limited area decided decided as a court, u needed much skill to not only evade the ball, but also take charge of it, and aim a target on the move.
The game ended with sour limbs, but well it was worth the fun.

When we grew a lil older, we moved to the 2 Bs bicycles and badminton. While gully cricket was still an all time favorite, Sundays mornings were exclusively dedicated to the game with everyone from the house being involved in the sport.
Carom was mostly played post lunch on Sundays.

In ma village playing took a totally different form, we spent the whole day running around the house, playing on rope swings, flying kites, making bows n arrows, climbing trees, our occasional tries at gilli danda, and yes cricket! (it never left us there either).

Miss those impromptu games that we wud devise, those crazy times when all u needed to have some fun was an accomplice in ur stupidity! Even more miss the mastermind who wud come up with them—ma bro!