Bombay - London - SFO

Bombay was Bombay. And it was time to travel.

Once again, Google's ample generosity bought me a week long vacation, sorry, work-trip, to Mountain View, California. Somehow, I wasn't so excited this time. Until I bought my ticket - Virgin Atlantic, via London. And my manager offered that I could stop in London for a day if I wanted.

Thrilled, and slightly rashly, I bought my ticket with a deliberate day-long halt at London. And only after that bothered checking with my friends, Karen and Brad, if they were to be in London on that day at all, and not filming in Pakistan or something. Fortunately, they were going to be in town.

Only after, after that did it strike me that I might need a visa and other such paper work. It's disheartening, this whole visa business. That we're subject to such an annoying procedure to go anywhere. Anyway.

So, nobody seemed to know the answer to whether I needed a visa or not, and the website was a confusing mess. But it looked to me that if I had a visa to the US, and my halt was less that 48 hours, I wouldn't need a visa. So, I was hopeful. But the website was very confusing, and had too many rules and laws for me to bother reading properly.

Lots of people I asked, including one person (ahem) who very strongly declared that I was nuts if I thought I could get out of the airport, said that it didn't seem likely. All this after I'd spoken to Brad and Karen and had already jumped up-and-down in excitement three times.

But, strangely, I wasn't disappointed. This whole yoga business is doing awesome things to me.

I was like, cool, if I get to go, it's great. If not, it's fine too. I can read at the airport and all that.

Oh, and this yoga business. My packing was so compact. The last time I went to Mountain View, I took a bag three times larger for a much shorter trip. This time, I had a nice small suitcase, laptop bag, and my yoga mat.

At the airport, I asked the Virgin staff if I would be allowed to go out in London. They were pretty sure I wouldn't. So, I prepared myself to spend the night at the London airport. Reading.

Landed in London, and started looking around for where I could sleep or rest. There was a board pointing at 1. Connecting Flights OR 2. Immigration. I started walking towards connecting flights, but then asked someone if that's where I should go for a 15-hour stop. They waved me towards Immigration.

And then, boom, in 5 minutes I had a stamp on my passport - '24 hour' visa. And I was out! Not really prepared. It was 18:30hrs and I had no currency, no address, no phone, and had messaged Karen from Bombay airport saying I wasn't likely to be able to see them.

1. Bought some Pounds.
2. Tried unsuccessfully to call Karen.
3. Went online (2 Pounds) and copied notes from an email with directions, from Brad.
4. Got slightly concerned about how things would turn, and went offline.

The first bit of directions from the email, were to get onto the Picadilly Train Line and travel east to Holborn and then switch to the Central Line until Bethnal Green. Which is where they live.

Went out of the airport. With laptop bag, camera and yoga mat. And realized London was freezing cold. Went round and round and asked people to help me find the trains, went round and round some more, and finally found the trains.

It was easy after that - very well organized, dozens of signs to everything, and super-cool trains. Fast, snazzy and all that. And full of Indians.

I was slightly concerned about my next steps. I knew which station I had to get off at. But from there, I had no idea. I knew I had to somehow make a call to them, or get online and look at a map. Or email. Or walk around and ask for directions to No.w.here. Which is what their film studio is called. I pictured myself asking a proper British Uncle if he knew where I could find nowhere. And I pictured his eyes bugling out in disbelief, in the style of Inspector Goon from the Five Find-Outers legend. And then I dismissed that picture from my head. Wasn't helping.

There was a girl across from me, talking on the phone in Hindi. I was desperately wondering if I should request her to let me make a call. But I didn't. Instead I focused on my little map, criss-crossed with train lines. Boy, what an elaborate railway system - a dozen railway lines, connecting every corner of the city. And stations with fairy-tale names - Knight's Bridge, Baron's Court, Earl's Court, Cockfosters(?).

But alas, that map was pretty useless when it came to trying to locate No.w.here.

An Indian-looking man then asked me if I was new there. He indicated that my clutching of the map had got his attention. I said I had just landed, and that I sort of knew where I had to go... He said, I shouldn't ask random people for directions, but should ask the railway staff. And then he got off.

Thanks for the tip, I thought. I didn't want to get into trouble in a foreign city, with no escort and no way of reaching anyone I knew.

Bethnal Green arrived. I got off. There was a map on the railway station - but I was quickly dismayed to realize that I had absolutely no idea which way to go. I didn't know what street they were on, and I felt massively stupid for being such a retard.

Fortunately, all this lovely yoga magic was happening, and I wasn't worried or scared, and I knew things would work out. I went out of the station. It was dark, windy and cold. And deserted.

Asking for directions is a natural process when you live in Bombay. The hundred of people on the road, and the dozen super-knowledgeable paanwalas everywhere are assured means to finding your way to anywhere.

London is not = Bombay in that aspect. There were a couple of young boys on the phone outside the platform and I somehow didn't feel like asking them for help. No shops in sight. Hardly anyone on the streets.

I continued walking, some shop like lights were a few blocks down, and I saw a store near a gas station. (Just like the movies! And Indians selling the stuff!) I was happy, they were sure to help me, I thought. All I wanted was a phone booth! Or a computer. Or help.

I went to the chap and said I was lost, and that I needed to make a phone call. There was a phone right there. I was hoping that he would let me use his phone. (Take a pound, I don't care, I was thinking, sending brain-pleads to his brain.) He looked a bit skeptical, and said that I would find a phone on the railway station.

I went back into the wind and the cold darkness. I was in tears now. But I guess its natural for people to be skeptical of strangers. Maybe he thought my yoga mat was a terrorist's weapon. So, I turned and went back to the station.

It was a relief to escape the cold and see people again. I saw an Indian girl, with a bouquet of flowers in her hands, standing waiting for someone, and I went straight to her. And told her I was a bit (yea, sure) lost, and that I would be grateful for help. She immediately offered to make a phone call for me, and we started chatting. (Happy Diwali and all) and then, I got through to Karen - who was on a train to Glasgow. And she said I was lucky I managed to reach her phone!

Fortunately, Brad was in town and he came to the railway station and rescued me. So, all turned well. I was thrilled to see Brad, exactly one year after our memorable adventures film-making in Bombay.

And then things were glorious. My flight the next morning was at 9:30 am, so I only had the night to be in London, but I didn't care what we did - it was enough just that I was there!

Went to the much-discussed film studio, (was super-cool) and caught up on the one year (lots of work for Brad and lots of stories from me - the life-crisis and the yoga). And then, since I don't drink anymore, we decided we didn't want to see the inside of a London pub, but we'd see as much of the city.

Walked. For the next 4 hours! Until way past midnight.

London. Is. Gorgeous. More so than SF, I must admit. We walked through a neighbourhood full of pubs, strip-clubs. Soho. And then to posh streets - Trafalgar Square! The city was bursting with energy - so many theatres, cinemas, museums, art places! I had my camera dangling around my neck, but my fingers were numb with the cold, and the light wasn't enough for great photography anyway. Tiny alleys. Red buses.

Walked past a movie premier of the new Bond movie - fancy-fancy-gorgeous looking people.

Then walked to the Thames and crossed the river. Saw the London Eye and Big Ben, and well, as much as we could cram into the 4 hours, before I was ready to collapse with a frozen body. Stared in awe at St. Paul's Church.

Smiled because I was in Harry Potter and Enid Blyton land.

And went home, content to have seen London at night, and more than glad to be in a warm bed.

Bombay Diaries - Day 14 & Day 15 -Travel Log

Woohooo. Am back from the ride. My internet had conked off, so I wasn't able to get online the past 3 days. But I can still adjust my blog post settings to pretend that I blogged on time. Weird, like playing games with time.

Anyway. Garreth, Edwin and I met up at 6:30am on Friday morning, and pulled out Outlook's 52 Weekend Getaways and looked it over. Finally, Edwin mentioned that he's been meaning to go to Murud-Janjira for a long while. Looked at it, pictures looked amazing (a gorgeous blue sea beach, with a fort in the sea!) and we set off.

The ride was amazing. I felt so liberated to be on the bike again, clear blue sky, and wind keeping us cool. I took a zillion pictures while we were riding. It was quite nostalgic too, coz it was the same route Gary and I had taken last June when we rode down to Goa.

Reached Kashid at noon, grabbed hammocks, coconut water, and plonked for a rest. Kashid is a sweet little beach a little further south of Alibaug, on the coastal highway in the konkan area of Maharashtra. Murud-Janjira are some 25 km further south of Kashid.

We checked in at The Shacks, and went off to lunch at the highly recommended Patil's Khanaval. For fish and beer. And meowing cats. It was great to eat fish after ages of being in the un-fish-friendly Hyderabad.

The evening we tried to visit the fort, but were too late, and so rode around to the top of a hill, climbed up and saw the sun set. After that, we rode into the little village /town, bought random things like soap, toothpaste, and a pack of cards, and of course, a whole assortment of beer. Played cards (rummy) until dinner time.

After a nice sea side dinner, where Edwin tried his best to scare me with 'supernatural' stories, lucky Garreth was around with his obvious scorn for anything unnatural, I absolutely insisted we go for a walk.

And this is when.. it began.

The uncanny resemblance to a Famous Five setting, straight out of Enid Blyton's book.

A beach (with dogs). 2 island forts. 2 glorious lighthouses.

Let me describe the scene. Jal Jeera (now called Janjira) was a fort build by Africans, and is called the unconquered fort, because Shivaji (or anyone) never managed to capture it. But, on an island nearby, Shivaji's son built another replicate fort (which is now quite in tatters.)

So this Shivaji's son's fort, is restricted. Used by the government for no body knows what.
Garreth said he was sure the ministers used it to have sex whenever the wanted to. But I was happier imagining some secret undercover operations, which hopefully involved pulling treasure out of the sea.

Ya, so that was Enid Blyton enough, and then we saw the fantastically strong light beam of the lighthouses. Sweeping across the sea. Wow, stunning. We were so mesmerized, and marveled at how it worked. Finally, Edwin pulled out his fancy phone and we Googled it and read about lighthouses and their fascinating source of light. The most interesting fact was that there are only about 1500 functioning lighthouses left in the world, and there there were two, right in front of us. And the stars on the crazy black velvet night were stunning. Except for the fact that there was no moon and Edwin kept trying to scare me.

We got back, played more rummy and drank more beer. And woke up the next day and headed off to see the fort. Took a sweet sailboat, on which we were seduced by the sailor(?) to take him on as guide and be toured around the fort. Nice job. Nice fort. Pics here.

Ride back was nice. Cool, airy, and ass soring. But totally worth it.

Bangalore!

After a really hectic week at work, and I've been desperately looking forward to this trip, I finally went to Bangalore for a Split gig! What fun.

I met Swamy first thing I reached there. Was great to see him, and laugh at / with him. Then he dropped me off to the hotel where Split was put up.
I was a bit worried about a situation where Swamy meets the Split boys. But it was funny. They liked him at once, and started making a noise straightaway. He certainly got a bit alarmed. And he didn't hang around too long, much to Mel's dismay.

After lots of sipping of random drinks floating around, and after Gary arrived (late), a few of us went to Koshy's for lunch. I had fish and chips, and beer. Perfect.
Later we got ready to go off to the venue for the gig - Unwind Center. Sound checked. Smoked up. Got smashed all over again.
Gig was good. I got a full video. Will upload it. Crowd was small. Venue was smaller. Bangalore was gorgeous. The weather was fantastic.

Mel really is crazy. He is the supreme king of insanity. He'd lived in Bangalore for 2 years earlier, so had loads of friends to hang out with, so hang out with them he did, after the show and we didn't see him and his wife until lunch time the next day. When we caught him, he was standing on Brigade road, wearing a Split T shirt with the sleeves ripped off. That gave him the look of someone on the run - from a mental hospital. And with all that funny hair and beard. Ha.

Mel was looking for his wife. Apparently she'd been right with him, and had vanished. Mel was panicky. He said, "I've been pissing her off all morning, now am shitting in my pants." And then he screamed, "SIMRAT" across the street, one of the loudest screams. It was straight out of a movie. Really funny. I love those moods of Mel.

In a minute, he stopped this guy who was walking past and said to him, dramatically pointing a finger in the chap's face, "You are the most good looking man I have ever seen." Mel's eyes were wide, and he was saying it with his unbeatable, completely honest, blunt truthfulness. He meant it.
The guy looked a bit pleased and went on walking, with a little swagger. The rest of us were laughing.

We found Sim in a few minutes (we used the phone). And went on our way to Pecos. I was walking hand-in-hand with Mel. We saw a mannequin outside a shop displaying a 2-piece swim suit. You won't believe what Mel did next. He told me, let's take her pants off. I said : Noooo! But, that was too late. He pulled down the bottoms of the mannequin. I ran off. Nigel took a photo.

Pecos was superb. It's very nice pub, three rickety stories, great music (this place is known for only playing music off cassettes), and awesome draft beer. Got some pics and a hilarious video of Split getting drunk at Pecos. It really is hilarious.

Mel was in his element.

It was a fun break, and I hope to see them boys again soon.

On The Road Again

Once again I broke my promise. I promised myself that I would stay in Hyderabad, save money, and lead a peaceful life. Instead, no sooner had I uttered the promise, did a need and necessity to go tearing across the country come up again.

Well, this one is a genuine case. One of our managers was getting married, and he’d very sweetly invited, and insisted that we attend. Well, it took us about 3 seconds to decide to go.

Ajith, Zareer, Gowri and me, all from team Rock (teams at Google Hyderabad are named after Genres of Music), and all of us, more specifically, are part of the Maps team, and were going together.

And so to Jalna we went. It was nice going to Maharashtra, though sad that we couldn’t go all the way to dear Bombay. The wedding was very sweet. The food was sweeter. And it was a nice break. We followed the groom on his horse, and were amused by the ‘Balaji’s Brass Band’ that led the procession with much aplomb. Even the flies joined in the festivities. Nasty things.

The day after the wedding, (and the part we were looking more forward to) we left for Aurangabad. And then to Ellora caves.

The weather was perfect. Cloudy, overcast, and yet just about not raining. The soft diffused light was great for photography (both Zareer and Ajith had cameras.) And it really was gorgeous.

I’ve been to Ellora before, during a school trip, and it was nice to revisit. I was happy to see that I remembered the major part of the caves. We wandered about and took loads of pics and then headed to Daulatabad fort.

It was a fabulous climb to the top, with each level of the fort getting more fascinating, and each with a different reason. There was no doubt that this fort was designed by a great mastermind, and very masterly indeed. It is one of the oldest forts in Maharastra, and one with a great history. Also known to be one of the most difficult to capture. It was easy to see why that was true.

There were a few canons at various point, and really amazing canons… So large, long and awesome. We took more photos. I really missed my camera, but I frequently took Zareer’s to make a photo or two.

The climb was long, strenuous, and enjoyable. Especially because it was not hot. Although, there was this one horrid point, where we nearly gave up. It was this dingy entry to the next level... a sort of dip underground, and then a narrow, pitch dark winding staircase going upwards. We walked in, and then immediately were hit by the most horrid stench. Bats. We all instantly ran backwards and nearly threw up. It was horrible. None of us could bear the idea of going back in. And we decided to call it quits and stop at where we were. But a few minutes later, after seeing other people go through (and finally when we saw 2 old foreign tourist go in) we decided to give it another chance. This time, we prepared ourselves. Stuffed tissue into our nostrils, held our breaths, had our torch out, and plunged into the horrors.

This time around, surprisingly, it wasn’t half as bad. I guess because we were expecting it, and ready to battle the stench. And we made our way out at the top. But the mustiness of the bat stench followed us.

When we made it to the top, we were glad to be there. It was worth it... all the way. The glorious sight of thousands of miles around us, it was easy to imagine a time long ago, when horses, and bows and arrows, and fire torches, and wars, and conquering, and swords, and cannons were more than just figments of our imagination. Well, only the books and movies tell us the stories now.

I relished the feeling of fatigue of the long walk. Overhead the clouds grew close and black. Very dark. It was lovely. We were a bit worried about how we’d get down if it rained, the slippery stone wouldn’t be too friendly. But it rained a bit and stopped soon. The clouds were dark and big, but the wind pushed the clouds away from our sky.

We stopped at a dhaba, and ate a large meal and then made our way to Aurangabad to catch the train. We were looking out for Maps. Hadn’t found any at Jalna the previous day, and we were a bit disappointed. But we managed to find a nice map of Aurangabad at the railway station. We obviously can’t return from anywhere without buying maps. I think I always will. Wherever I go, and whenever I do.

We boarded our train, and were sad that the weekend was over. I was gazing at the railway track in the opposite direction of where we were heading. The tracks that led to Bombay.

At around 1:00 am, the train stopped at a railway station. For quite sometime. We also heard some loud and not friendly voices. Infact, some rather alarming voices. After about half an hour, the train slowly started sliding, in the opposite direction. For a minute I thought it was just the train moving backwards a couple of feet, but then… it started gaining speed. It was astonishing. Both Zareer and me were surprised and shocked. I was actually secretly happy… coz worse came to worse, we’d land up in Bombay.. and what can be better than that! But after a few minutes when it finally sunk in that we were definitely moving in the exact same direction as we had come from, I decided I wanted to talk to someone. It was easy for us to imagine that we were

I found a couple of cops easily enough. They were lounging by the window in the next boogie. They didn’t seem perturbed. I asked them in urgency, why are we going in the wrong direction? They looked amused, and explained that this train always halts at that station and then heads back a few kilometers to get another engine and then comes back to the correct route. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, or see any sense in it, but I was relieved to have an explanation.

Am back to the grind now. Hyderabad is gorgeous right now, and am hoping to have a nice peaceful weekend this time. Though, weekend after next, have to rush off again, this time to Bangalore, to see Split, LIVE!

Bus Ride Frenzy

I travel to and fro between Bombay and Hyderabad very often. I keep promising myself I wont go back home to Bombay for at least a month (because I do need to save money), but somehow or the other, I'm there sooner than I planned to be.

Well, so ever since I lost my baby, I've been quite prudent about how I use and spend my money. I have never quite been this way. It's a pleasant change.

Anyway, so last week, a friend came down from New York, and she wont be down again, at least for another year, so I simply HAD to see her, and went down to Bombay over the weekend.
On Saturday was Mel's house warming party too, and I was glad to be able to to make it for that one... (any party featuring the Split boys is bound to be the most fun ever.)

I took along a bottle of pretty pink Sula Zinfandel Wine, and we got smashed on a new invented drink (called The Bearded Slut, designed and created by Melroy D'Mello - more about this later) and lots of the gorgeous Sula wines - someone else also got a bottle.

It was great being in Bombay with everyone, and at some point during the party Mel came to me and said that he thought it was time for me to start doing the great things that I am destined to do. Nice, pleasant flattery that. Every time I mention that I'm going to be a film maker someday, my friends say that they're certain I'll be 'big.' Really nice of them to say it, and I don't take it seriously, but that day, I thought about it.

And more so, on my bus ride back to Hyderabad on Monday evening.

Bus rides are interesting. Especially when its dark, there's this enormous huge window at your side and you're speeding through your countryside. I felt, after a long time, surreal, and eerie and a bit psychedelic. I was listening to Depeche Mode, feeling lonely and a great, crazy hungry frenzy soon erupted in my head.

I had my laptop on my lap, and fiercely started typing. I made a few resolutions and drew a 'how to be a happy girl' road map. And then started thinking about what Mel had said that day.

If I am going to do great things, and I want to, and everyone wants to, what am I going to do? Mel said I should always give 100% to anything I do. Be it at Google right now, or when I quit and go back to Bombay to make films, eventually. And I was wondering, what would be my mission to greatness?

I thought of something interesting then. Its always been inherent in me to try to make people feel passionately about things... especially things I'm passionate about. Music, or movies, or photography, or travel, or a concept, I've this intense need to get people to understand and appreciate a good piece of art. Of course, subject to their opinion... But I like to ignite passions.

If there's one thing to pick as my mission to greatness, that's what it would be.

Friday.

It is a beautiful day
And I'm going to Bombay.

PS: I didn't mean it to rhyme. I really am going to Bombay. And it really is a lovely day.

It was stormy yesterday, it rained a lot. Today is a fantastic blue sky, with a new fresh smell in the air. And I'm ready to go...

PPS: Split is performing in Bombay this weekend. 2 gigs.

One for Channel [V] Launchpad at Hard Rock Cafe on Saturday.
And the other at Razz Rhino, with 7 other bands. Good stuff.

PPPS: Mel wants me to do a photoshoot for him. He will then proceed to send these photos to his girlfriend's mum. He has threatened me. His future happiness lies in my hands.

PPPPS: This will also the be the first time I'm attending a Split gig with the new camera. All these months before, I've been the official photographer at all gigs, but with a tiny, small, unimpressive camera. This time, it will be different!



Photos soooon. Bye.

Ahh, for some chilled Kings, and feni. And a bit of sea air. Oh, glorious Goa. God's own acre.



Ro, lets go.

RAMOJI

I've lived in Hyderabad for the last eight months, and hadn't visited the famous Ramoji Film City in all this while. Until last week.

Karen and Brad, of no.w.here were here in Hyderabad, and wanted to go filming in Ramoji. I decided I'd take the day off to accompany them. I fixed an appointment with the International Marketing Manager, we rented a cab for the day and set off to Ramoji.

It was a spectacular place. Larger than I imagined, sprawling over acres and acres of beautiful Andhra landscape - coconut trees, large loose rocks and tiny hills. When we arrived at what turned out to be the ticket counter, we were told that the heart of the film city was still 8km away.

We were greeted by a friendly manager, who had us refreshed with a cup of tea and then introduced us to the general manager, who heard our plan and request and then agreed to allow us to shoot at a couple of locations within Ramoji. They arranged for a coordinator to take us around in our cab and we set off.

I was at once amazed by the lovely landscaped gardens, and the neat roads with fountains and abstract statues. The coordinator was friendly and cheerful, as was, we soon found out, everyone who worked at Ramoji.

The first location/set he took us to, was a village square. Indian village square. Very nice. Small shops. Pan wala, bullock carts, stalls and small houses. All against a stunning backdrop of a steep rocky hill. Karen and Brad at once decided that they would film there.

The other location we shot at, was a lovely Hindu temple. Just the kinds you see at the movies, with white pillars and bells. The funny thing was our guide told us that the pillars were of plaster of Paris and could be taken off and moved around. So, of course, it wasn't really a temple, and there was no idol in the inner chamber. But, he insisted that we take our shoes off if we wanted to go into the inner chamber. That's the duality of our rituals and beliefs. Unreal and real at the same time.

After that, we went to an airport, a railway station, a Kings courtroom - straight out of an episode of the Mahabharata - and one location that we were really, really lucky to see.

A film had recently been shot at Ramoji and a grant set worth 1.3 crores had been created. The film was something to do with Yama - The Angel of Death and the set, was a dark chamber, ornate with golden carvings and marble floors. It was an incredible set. And the only place where we weren't allowed to take photos. But then, we were very lucky to see that set. It would soon be taken down.

But more than the large area of Ramoji and its brilliantly designed and maintained land, what we were also impressed by, was the looming legend of Mr. Ramoji. The man who owned it all.

Mr. Ramoji owned all of this. It was incredible. The film city has its own broadcasting center and owns 12 regional TV channels. They have a state of the art film processing and editing lab and post production and fully equipped sound studios. They said, all you need is to come to Ramoji with a script, and you can leave with a film.

We drove past Mr. Ramoji's house.
Brad said he was reminded of Citizen Kane. It's true. The man's aura seemed everywhere. AT the desk of an employee whose office we visited, was a photograph of him and I asked if that was Mr. Ramoji. The man, a manager of the building which held all kinds of props, fervently nodded and said, 'He's my God.' We couldn't help but be very intrigued and a bit awed by what we heard.

Ramoji Film City has existed for 8 years now. But hundred of Indian films and a handful of international films have been created with the help and magic of Ramoji. I want to make a film there. I will, I think.

More pics here.

Goa

The past 24 hours, as I traveled some 700 km in an uncomfortable semi-sleeper bus, I've been dying to get to my blog. Some 6 different posts were born and discarded in my head. This one is just to announce:

1. I'm just back from a holiday to Goa.
2. I notice that the sunlight in Goa is different from anywhere else. And every place in the world has a different light.
3. I love my glorious golden tan and I feel like a medieval european princess.

Goa pics here.

Missing Trains and Mad Cows

I like silly titles. The missing train part is real. I personally thought that all the cows in Hampi were mad, but unfortunately, I have no evidence. Not even a single photo of the dratted things.

Anyhow, coming back to the Missing Trains half, it was hilarious. Rather, it is, in hindsight. To start at the starting, Mr Nanga Swamy was in charge of 'tout l'affairs.' He booked our tickets to and fro, booked rooms, a cab to take us around and the works. We were impressed and let things rest in his skilled reigns. So, the afternoon of departure arrived. We got our luggage and office cabs were ready to take us to the railway station, like an orchestra at Swamy's fingertips. We stuffed our bags with a whole load of chips, fruits juices, chocolates and soft-drinks (courtesy Google) and made our way downstairs, with Mr Nanga Swamy shepherding us. Very impressive.

All excited. I was new to this bubbly group and i kept mum, listening to very noisy girly giggling and I wondered to myself about my fate. Next, we alighted at the station, bid farewell to our cab and waddled our way into the station, waiting for the last cab. Hmmm. I think, some detailing is required here.

Damn, introducing the group is difficult, but I'll try. So, there's Mr. Nanga Swamy. The photo will explain him. Then, there's three bad boys - Varun, Swarnesh and Jeetu. They live together and have private jokes - very rude. Then, there is Nandita and Maria, who're best friends and Priya and Mariam, who're very crazy and funny. They were the giggling girls I was stuck with, and I was still making up my mind about if i could handle them or not. And finally, Mrinalika. The hottie. Very fun girl.

So, Swarnesh, Maria and Nandita's cab wasn't there yet. The rest of us decided to go onto the station and check how much longer for our train. According to Mr. Swamy's careful calculations, we had around 15 minutes before the train came. Sufficient, I thought, to get us to the required platform and find our boogies, etc. What we didn't expect, of course, when we asked the Ticket Collector, was that we were at the wrong station completely.

Yes, inaccurate, incorrect station.

The train didn't see this part of the railway tracks in her happy meanderings at all. We were all stunned beyond words. I felt a great urgency of rushing and running anywhere... to set things right. I looked at Swamy's face and my heart broke. He was shattered, helpless and looked like he would cry. And all of a sudden, he sprang, like a bull set loose in a bullfight, and ran out of the station... We followed our sprightly guide. He ran straight towards our disappearing cabs and with impressing sprinting, along with lap-top and luggage, caught them and got them to stop for us. We jumped in, into 2 cabs, the others would be notified over phone to come to the correct station. This correct station was around 20 minutes away. The train 15 minutes away. The traffic - horrible. I cursed at every signal. Ashen faces around me, and I laughed in my head, 'Oh, we possibly can't miss the train. These things don't really happen.'

We got to the correct station, ran like possessed characters in a film. And pitiful faces told us the train had just left. 2 minutes back. These things don't happen and hadn't sunk in yet. Blood still rushing in our heads, we turned around and bumped into these rickshaw-walas. They said, "Missed the train? Have no fear. Super-rickshaws are here." These guys were super smart. They promised us that they would take us to the next station before the train got there. I was game. What did we have to lose?!

They said, 'If we don't get you there before the train, don't pay us.' Even better. We jumped in. The last cab (Maria, Swarnesh and Nandita) were still on the way. We just called them and told them to make their way to "Lingampally" - the station far, far away, I think some 30 km from Hyd.

Once we were in the rics, there was nothing we could do but hope. This time, i was in the ric with Jeetu and Varun. And soon we were laughing and feeling excited. I was amazed by the rickshaw guys. They took control of our lives, our holiday and our fate. With insane swerves and superspeeds, they promised we would get there. Tiny lanes he knew, to beat the traffic and soon we were on the highway on our way to the outskirts of the city. He said that this was their daily business. They stood by the station, waiting for people to missed the train, and took them to Lingampally. I was awed, and hopeful.

The ride was awesome. The weather got chilly as we got out of the city and this guy was driving like it was a video game. It was thrilling.

As we raced against time, I grew more and more impressed by this guy's ability to keep us alive. I wondered how much we would have to pay him for this emergency ride. We'll give him a hundred rupees, I decided. The road went on and on. Hmmm, I thought. A hundred rupees each, I figured. A nice wholesome sum. Didn't say it aloud. When we got to the station, we first ran out, and checked if the train had left. 10 minutes for it to arrive! We were gonna make it!

The rickshaw guy had followed us to the platform. So, we asked him how much we owed him. Rs.1000 he said. I nearly fainted. And felt mighty indignant. We tried to bargain. He didn't budge. We were swindled to the amount of Rs.500. That's what we paid for that wild ride across the city. What a story.

The next rickshaw arrived. This was the girls - Priya, Mariam, Mrin - and Swamy. They paid their guy Rs.1000. We didn't talk about it. It caused acute heart-burn. The rickshaw guys vanished in seconds. We were here now.. before the train! Oh, except, the other three in the cab.

It had dawned on me, that Maria, Nandita and Swarnesh should have left the cab and got into another of these rics. Becuase these rickshaw guys did this shit everyday. Only they could beat the train. Not our poor cab driver.

In horror, we heard that the cab was lost. They helplessly described what they saw around then and we hopefully tried to imagine that they were 'nearly here'. Aaarhgh, this couldn't happen man. Swamy was nearly in tears again. He was in conversation with the railway master. Begging him to hold the train for a few minutes and give directions to our friends. We were all near panic and foot-stamping. The train arrived. We stood near the door. We stepped in and looked out of the door. I was convinced this would be so filmy. That we'd see them come running on to the platform and they will run and catch a slowly moving train.

Swamy was still talking to the railway master. I was looking at the signal. It stayed red. For longer, i suspect, than usual. In spite of all his protests about losing his job, the railway master kept the train waiting for as long as he could manage. Finally the train driver blew the bellowy horn. And the signal went green. We stepped off the train. No one came. The train left.

What a tragic story and what a very long post. I'm sorry.

Anyhow, so those guys came a few minutes later. By then, we were all miserable. But when we saw Swamy, we couldn't help but want to cheer him up. We hugged him and kissed him (that worked) and made him pose with us for photos. That worked too. He then asked us to gather around him and in solemn words apologized for his mistake. His speech was so funny that we were all laughing and felt much better. So, bright ideas began again. There has got to be another train! We could take the next train, I voted.

That was voted out because the boys decided that it would be too unsafe for so many girls to travel in an unreserved boogie. I didn't agree, but the others didn't seem keen about it. So we left it at that.

Well, we decided we'd still have a nice weekend. Watch a movie. I was certainly getting smashed. Probably go for a drive somewhere the next day.

Until, darling Nanga made some phone calls. And hey, presto. We had bus tickets to Hampi. And a bus to catch in 30 mins! We caught it. And the trip was one of the best that I can recollect.

Full marks to Mr. Nanga Swamy.

Hampi Photos! here.

Oh, these were taken with Swamy's camera by me. And there's a story. I took approximately 200 photos (and good ones, i was sure) and then i bumped the camera a bit. Accidentally. Then, the photos vanished. All gone.
I couldn't believe it. They had to be on the memory card. But we couldn't find them. All that was there on the camera were some (strange) photos of Swamy's home. Which he clearly remembered deleting 2 days ago. Pathetic, I felt.

Until, a month ago, when he managed to recover them. Accidentally. Potty camera, I say.

What am doing, where I've been and why my life sucks.

Geez, I am so ashamed. This was supposed to be my disciplinary exercise. Pathetic behaviour.

Well, to catch up, I've been upto loads of things. Travelling. Being alone. Buying a super-expensive camera and already dreaming about what I need next. And being lazy.

About the travel and photography, will put up pics. I've been going down to Mumbai very regularly. Am used to sleeping on an upright bus seat and skipping dinner. And waking up to see the sun rising and then counting kilometers to home. (Both ways - Hyd and Bombay). It's nice to think of Hyderabad as home. It is, of course. My first own home. And, I have been living alone. Ever since one roommate left for home on account of an illness and the other left for her boyfriend's home on account of love, I've been living alone. And, I've liked it.

Of course, it's been lonely and has often resulted in me missing dinners (and weekend meals too) but i've liked having my space and mostly, I've learned a lot about how to manage a home. I could do everything by myself now. Nothing to it, I say. I've imagined it to be a 'training' phase. Like for something in the future, and I'll be grateful for the experience.

Anyhow, that's all nonsense. So, the travelling.

Not too much, but Pondicheri, Hampi and a little fort called Bhongir. Pondicheri is fantastic. Especially the drive to there from Madras - The East Coast Road. Have to go there again. Hampi is awesome... Fantastic place to visit, shop, eat and take photos at. Nice weather, incredible landscape and very exotic clothes to shop for. The trip was super successful, and very exciting because we missed the train and chased it for 30 km. And missed it again. It was so much fun, it deserves an entire new post and the consequent musings.

That leaves Bhongir. Sweet little fort not far from here. We took a secret route (said the cab driver, coz we had no idea) to avoid the RTO cops who would have objected to the number of us cramped up and crumpled in the car. We sang songs and tried to drown out the noisy protests of the driver. So Bhongir was a nice climb to the top. Caught the sunset and lazed at the top. Imagined what it must have been like some 300 years ago and if any crocodiles had lived in the moat. I took loads of photos and pretended to be a professional travel journalist. Didn't pull it off too well. Photos here.