Facepack

"Memories can be painful. To forget might be a blessing!" - Kung Fu Hustle Movi
Well, not really! I did not quite remember my last experience and let Anjali
talk me right into it. I was back in the "chair" and had faint recollections of a guy speaking to me in a soft voice
".. sir, a little more above the ear.... how about the bald patch on the forehead.... a square or rounded neck...is that enough medium-short...this twirl looks good"!

It was déjà vu all over again but with a little more class!
The last time I was in an average-class salon was about 6 years back. The salon was new and my meager paycheck came with a bonus I think. So, at the end of the hair-cut which cost me Rs.30 I let the barber talk me into taking one of their "packages".
"sir, iss cream se aapka face soft ho jayega...". Nice! Picture of one of the may film stars in the salon floated in front my closed eyes and I would wonder who among them had a soft skin like this cream promised to give.. SRK, Abhisek, Jonh...wow!
"sir, iss cream se aapke dark pimples kam ho nikal jayenge..." clear skin.... aftab shivdasani...again the floating pictures..
"sir, iss cream se aapke chereh pe shine aa jayega...'.. yeah! bright lights, the annual function is just around the corner.. I could use some 'extra' "shine" on my face.. so what if I don't even remotely shine in anything else that I do?
At the end of the session, I put my spectacles back on eager to look at a soft, shiny, pimple-free me. Not that I expected someone from the poster to stare back at me from the mirror but nothing could have prepared me for "me".
I was bruised, oily and looking as though I had just completed a two day un-reserved compartment journey. I had endured all kinds of weird sensations on my face, uncomfortable proximity to a complete stranger for 1 hour, strong odors (rajnigandha included), somehow fought of a panic-attack (I am genetically claustrophobic!) and learnt all about the barbers extended family. Rs.250 (inclusive of haircut) for all of this.
Today, a similar experience cost me Rs.550 which included an additional 'bleach' to make me 'fair'. I use bleach in my bathroom!
Well, so that was it; at the end of the show I put on my spectacles found me smiling at me and walked out.

Dreams

This is my dream diary.

Bury the past -
I see a large rectangular building and realize that people (mostly children) in there are harassed.
I immediately report this to someone. That person ignores it. I am surprised. I look at the building again; I can still see that it is occupied by a lot of people who are unhappy.
I walk to a white building with a narrow staircase. On the top floor is a single room with a small window.
I can see a lady who appears to be a policewoman. I tell her about the building with its unhappy occupants.
She dismisses it and says that no such thing exists. I am hurt and angry because no one believes me.
I go to the building and check it out once again. It has changed and I cannot see any longer signs of torture or harassment. I am surprised.
I realize that the building was my school and I was actually referring to events that had occurred in my past.
Hence, no one believed me and merely dismissed my complaints. The events were not occurring in the present.



Dream 1.5 - I am asleep. I am slightly awakened when the maid knocks the door. Someone opens it. I wake up to realize that the room is clean.I go back to sleep.
I am exercising in front of a mirror, to get my technique right. I am wearing black shorts and a baniyan. I am jumping and strectching. Exhausted I fall asleep.
I am in small office. My colleague walks in wearing a ankle length skirt that I particularly like.
Another colleague hands me a pamphlet of the Guinness book of world records. I fall asleep reading it.
I am in my house in Chennai, looking out my parents room window. I can see the garden I used to, sometimes, play in. I can see a blue car. Tired, I sleep.
I am trying to find a book mark. I see that the book has pictures of a guy, in a suit, with a group of campers, with a group of racers, at a festival and a lot more. The guy is always in a suit, wearing specs that are photo-chromatic. I can see that I am that guy and it is me who is turning the pages. I realize that it is a very old book and those pictures were taken a very long time ago.
I wake up in my bed. Someone is still knocking the door. I open it and my maid enters.
I wake up and open the door.
I wake up.


My dear uncle - (I had this dream more than a year after my uncle's death)
My uncle, his wife and his son visit my house in Coimbatore. They are all well dressed to attend a wedding. My family is also all dressed up. We head to nearby temple. It is an old temple with a thatched roof. There is a small oil lamp burning near the idol. Someone asks me to go to the from and sing a few bhajans. Everyone sits cross-legged on the floor while I go ahead and sit in the front opposite to the idol. There is a dead body wrapped in white sheets. It is my uncle. I look back he is seated wearing a grey suit and tie. I notice that no one know has noticed him. I am the only one able to see him.


Durga -
I am in my home in Coimbatore. I am alone in the house. I feel a little suffocated for some reason. I find myself outside my home. I am still suffocating and I realize my face is hurting. I try to turn my head to see what it is but am unable to do so. The sun is behind me. I look in front and realize that I am in a large shadow. I can identify the form with multiple hands and weapons. It is Durga. I am Her Lion's mouth. He is not hurting me but has picked me up.


The body - (I had this dream soon after my parents left after short stay with me)
I am asleep in my bed. I wake up. It's very early in the morning and still dark.
On the floor, next to my bed, I see a body wrapped, from head to toe, in a white cloth. I sit up and am a little scared. I look at the time. Its almost dawn. I tell myself that there is no point in getting scared and since nothing can be done now, I decide to go back to sleep with the body next to me on the floor. The tube light is still on.


The lady -
I am in a bed with some woman. The bed sheets are all white and the room is white. It's very bright. The bed is also white. The sheet are white, the bed is white and everything around me is white. I sheets are long and I am lost in them. As I try to make my way towards the woman for the final act, I hear a voice. It leads me away from the bed. The voice asks me "is this what you want?". The voice says "look carefully". I get lost in the sheets but am unable to find the woman there. There is nothing.


In the flat - (all characters in this dream are my Wipro PM Academy's batchmates)
A lot of people have gathered in my house.
My house is an exact mirror image of where I live; everything is placed like a reflection.
Lots of girls and guys are sitting in a circle and chatting.
Usha is in the balcony looking out. I also notice that my house is on a very high floor.
Nitin walks in with a bag of groceries, red radishes, many bundles of methi and coriander.
Pratik suddenly bursts from a boyz group totally drunk. he is swinging and had two bottles in hand.
Hari is screaming, "I told you not to drink so much"
I get worried that my roomie will notice that the expensive alcohol has disappeared.
I look around and see Guna standing in a corner; cream colored dress. her hands are in front of her. She appears to be smiling but i am not sure when I hear Rajkumars voice - "actually, the liquor bottles are not that different from before only about so much has reduced". WHAT?!!
Nitin tells me to keep all the groceries in the fridge.

Cafe Coffee Day

I knew it was over the moment I said Cafe Coffee Day.

It was just the beginning of the painful bride hunting process. My mom and sister had short listed this girl from Nagpur and she was also willing to meet me. Later, she would tell me that she wanted to see me because I was an artiste.

My mom and sister liked her when she came over to our house, in Nagpur, to have a chat. She was coming down to Pune for some work and was willing to see me there. After exchanging addresses via sms it was decided that I would go over to her uncle's place where she was staying and meet up. I reached on time and the family was very welcoming. She was all set to head out after a while and that is exactly what we did. We headed out without a clue as to where we were going. After a small walk she said we could sit for a while in CCD if there was one around. I had never been to CCD before and was rather unsure of it and hence preferred the security of the outdoors. I started that CCD stuff is overpriced, frozen food types, unhealthy, no value for (hard-earned) money and was simply a place for rich kids to splurge. She was taken aback by my sudden expression and strong opinion. Nevertheless she probably liked the fact that I was realistic. Probably.

We walked around for some more time in the cold November air and then it happened talking about non essential stuff like rebirth and I told her how I believed that I was a German and a researcher, at the Cavendish Lab, in my past life. We were almost running out of small talk when destiny and biology kicked in. I needed to take a piss. I held on for quite a while and also considered asking her to wait while I took a piss in a dark alley. But there was no dark alley and for all my urgency I could not imagine asking of her something like that.

The chat at CCD was not a lesser disaster. I shared my perceptions of people; their dress sense, their hairstyles, etc and how it affected and spoke volumes of their personalities. It was interesting enough until all the negative conclusions of the personality types somehow applied to her father, brother and almost every adult male in her immediate and distant family. I had already given up the whole thing the moment I had suggested CCD and also because she was rather unsure of marriage; I was the third "artist" she was seeing.

Bangalore - Coimbatore

Monday evening. My allergic condition was not subsiding even after a couple of anti-allergic tablets, ayurvedic meds and oils and an IV injection. The rate at which the allergy was spreading from my torso to extremities, I would soon look like spiderman, red all over, and join the Itchy & Scratchy show. I was very irritable due to the allergy but none of my colleagues noticed it as unusual. [They say I am Hari Sadu in the making!]

Anti-allergy meds are sleep inducing and I was to take one on Monday night. If I took the meds it would mean sleep till late Tuesday morning and I would have to start late in the day. Riding thro the rain would be enough trouble not to mention the constant updates I'd have to give my parents. One has to be free to enjoy the ride. And you cannot be free when there is someone waiting for you.

For the past two weeks, the rain was following a pattern over Bangalore and Coimbatore and I imagine all the places in between. It would begin raining in the afternoons and continue till late evening. Which meant that the only time there was a sort of a, kind of a, remote chance, that it would not rain was at night!!

I had done it before when I rode from Pune to Nagpur and this was only half that distance. The difference here was I had worked for a whole day in office, was allergic and was on sleep inducing drugs! Nevertheless, I took it as a sigh from God when it did not rain in the evening.

The skies were in fact clearing up when I started at 10.30-10.45pm. It was slightly chilly but I did not bother with an extra jacket since I figured that once I get beyond Thoppur and closer to Salem it would not be as much. I was wrong. Traffic was not heavy nor light and I could cruise comfortably at 90 kmph. I took my first break a little before 12.00 midnight. I had covered 90kms in 1.5 hours which was good since it takes longer at city exits and entries. After 15 min and a short walk/stretches, I restarted.

This was the fun part. I was now looking to cross Salem which would be my PNR (Point of No Return). Salem is 180km from my place in Bangalore and marks the mid point of my journey. I planned for a second break at Salem, but since no tea stalls were open I continued.

It was past 1.30am now and traffic was sparse. I wondered why wasn't I sleepy. I also wondered why was I not imagining a ghost like I did in my previous night ride. Was I too sleepy to even imagine something?! Hmm... I decided to break.

I took my second break at 2.40am. I had ridden non-stop for more than 2.5 hours and had covered 175kms in the second leg of my journey.

After a 10min break I decided to resume and discovered that my glove was missing. I spent 10 min looking for it on and around the bike but somehow it had simply vanished from the face of the earth. Now, a chill ran down my spine! Perhaps a spirit was indeed in my vicinity and had taken my glove. It is known that spirits inhabit places where they left their mortal bodies. I quickly looked around to see for any accident prone spot sign boards but there were none. Also there was no noticeable water-body where anyone could have committed suicide, or worse, been murdered. So here I was alone in the the middle of, pretty much, nowhere and was imagining the supernatural phantom that might have taken my glove. I thought this one was one hell of a travelling spirit. Then it dawned on me that it might have been a rider who lost his life because his hand was too cold to apply the disc break just as he was about to ram into a truck. It was a scary thought; I had lost my right glove and was putting myself exactly in the same situation of the ghost-rider. Perhaps I was making my destiny.

I tried to put the thought out of my head and restarted. I was colder than when I started and now, I was without a right glove. The next 20-25 kms were good and then the bad patch started.

Some NHAI project is underway on a very long stretch of the highway and they are building a ton of flyovers. To that end, the authorities have duly built a couple of pillars of each flyover and thats that! This model disturbs the entire stretch of the highway without adding any advantage. Why not just complete one flyover and then move on to the next? That way at any given point only a very short part is affected. Anyway, the 40km patch was the toughest to negotiate specially since I had a near bald rear tyre. I did not notice a a large pot-hole and the rear tyre took a hit due to which the chain loosened and started making strange noises at times. I prayed.

It was 4.00am when I reached the Coimbatore bye-pass. The last stretch of 30kms was tougher since it had begun to drizzle and the weather had turned foggy. I reached home at 4.30am.

I love my wife

I like to meet people. That is not to say that I like to make a lot of friends, but I like to meet new people, have a chat, and if possible stay associated.

A self proclaimed loner that I am, this may seem to be a bit off the usual loner-ish behavior, but it's not company that I seek when I meet people. Rather I am looking for patterns and trying to fit people into boxes of personalities. Stereotyping, basically! :)

Mother Teresa had said that "If you judge people, you won't have time to love them", and rightly so. It works out for me since I certainly don't wish to fall in love which is why I take the easier (and left over) option of judging them.

Most of my friends are married and those that aren't are well on their way of giving into a life of commitment (and repentance). Interacting with those that are married gives my learning algorithms additional data and thus its able to predict better matches. The clustering and machine learning goes on and on and I keep regrouping them into "personality-boxes".

One such category is "I love my wife"-types.

They can't wait to tell people around them how much they love their wife and that how she means the world to them; how marriage was the best thing that happened to them and some such.These are also the guys who seem to be the foremost proponents of the institution of marriage.

If girls were to wish for the perfect husband the "I love my wife"-types would be the answer to their prayers, or so it would seem until you either had a really frank chat with a wife or had exceptional people reading skills like I do.

Most guys in the above group eventually come across as being very self centered, self-loving and dominating. The only people they actually love and care about are themselves.
Which is why they spent a good deal of time in finding and marrying a timid girl who would not interfere with their romance with themselves. The girl puts up with everything the guys have to dole which is why he loves her so much in the first place. The girl goes out when he wants to, dresses up the way he wants to and so on. The more she does according to what he wants, the more his expressions of love

His love knows no limits when the girl is also able to put up with his parents. When he means to say "she does not complaint about my parents!" you would most likely hear "we were made for each other. I love my wife."

.... to be continued.

The Ganglion

No, this is not a post about a superhero from the fifth dimension who saves Earthlings caught in the cross fire of an interplanetary war.

This is a post about my ganglion. A ganglion is a particular type of lump which shows up next to a joint or tendon; most commonly at the wrist.

A self proclaimed fitness freak that I am, I used to do about ten push-ups whenever I felt like I needed to pump up. If you are smirking let me tell you that I am blessed with a terrific set of genes such that I require to work out very rarely to stay in terrific shape.(well that is now after having done some serious power-lifting for two years during college.)

Back when I was in my undergraduate program I really used to do about 25 push-ups everyday, until a sharp pain in my wrist prevented me from bending them. I had to switch to finger push-ups but that too was a only for a very short time until I started learning Tabla.

I guessed that the pain was because of some smallish injury. Soon the pain would appear even when I only bent my wrist. The doc told me that these were the signs of a ganglion. There was no physical evidence of any kind of growth but the pain continued. After a couple of months I could notice a small lump, the size of a pea, when I bent my wrist forward and looked really hard.

A year after sapping my body of essential nutrition the ganglion, about the size of a walnut now, was clearly visible. Besides being a source of some embarrassment the ganglion was immensely

painful.

I was not able to practice the Tabla for more than 20 minutes at a time before the pain got unbearable. I later learnt that excessive use of wrists actually fuels the ganglion's growth.

On someday's I would tie a piece of cloth very tightly over my wrist and try and practice. This restricted the movement but would numb the pain. I was unable to play sports like badminton or cricket or even ride a scooter comfortably.

The doctors I had consulted with were reluctant to operate on it because of some nerve related problem. I lived with my ganglion for two years before I decided to go ahead and get it operated.

The risk was that some nerve in my wrist area would be affected and that I might experience some kinda numbness in my fingers. I voted for numbness against excruciating pain.

On the d-day I was wheeled into the OT all dressed up in a green gown and a shower cap.

The surgeon and anesthesiologist decided to anesthetize my entire right arm.

This was done by shooting two huge syringe-full of colorless liquid into my arm pit.

I know that some people consider an armpit an erogenous zone but I was screaming in pain rather than pleasure when the injections were administered. Soon the liquid had its intended effect and I was not able to feel anything in my right arm. Well almost, because when the surgeon made the first cut and reached into the wrist to get to the ganglion I screamed out again in pain!!! "He He!! I guess you need some more of the colorless liquid" was all the anesthesiologist had to say. After another shot in the arm pit and 10 minutes the surgeon was back to doing what he thought he was good at: going after my ganglion.

The surgeon tried to talk me into looking at "the other side" when he made his cuts, probably because he assumed that I, with my cute face and all, would not be able stand the sight of my wrist all open and bloody. I quietly told him that I had voluntarily watched a post-mortem (autopsy) and was ok even with blood all over the floor!! No more.

He soon found what he was looking for and the mean little bas@#rd was bigger than expected.

The surgeon cut out several lumps of white jelly like substance from my wrist.

That was how my me and my ganglion were physically separated. But I was not done yet.

I believe in one thing - No matter how high you go up in life(I haven't made it anywhere yet, but I still believe) , don't forget where you started.

In this case my achievement was getting rid of the pain I had experienced for almost two years.

I have had sleepless nights, missed Tabla classes, and huge difficulties in writing lengthy exam papers because of the pain. I used to sit simply holding my right hand with my left just to numb the pain. In two years I had used more than four wrist bands, because they used to get worn out and loose. Was I going to let the ganglion simply walk away(rather drain away) now?

You bet I wasn't.

I requested the surgeon that I wanted to keep it with me. After the autopsy thing, he did not ask me anything like "why in the world?" or "what would you do with it?" stuff.

He quietly put the ganglion in a transparent bottle of formaldehyde, sealed it and handed it to me.

Given that we take our life for granted, I could not remember the last time my right hand was free from any kind of pain. After the dust settled I realized that in the battle against "the enemy within"(pun intended) I had compromised the smooth movement of my ring and middle finger.

A constant numbness exists in the area between the fingers right from the wrist to the base of the fingers.

So did the ganglion have the last laugh? No he did not, 'cause his final resting place in a bottle stacked away in my drawer and I will make sure it stays that way.

The Realist

An optimist a pessimist and a realist are sitting in a room.

They notice a glass placed on a table in the center of the room.

The room is not very large, but spacious enough so that the three do not invade each others space.

The optimist says "the glass is half full".

The pessimist says "the glass is half empty". We know that already, don`t we?!

The realist says "... not so fast."

First she asks if we are talking about the same glass. We give her a "duh" look but she is least bothered. She demands to know. Once we are thro with that, she demands to know the necessity for an answer? Ah ha! So the realist is not so smart after all.

We spend some time explaining to her the importance of not only knowing the right answer but also how the answer determines our outlook towards life.

She seems convinced and her next question is; what happens to the glass after we have her opinion on the glass.

Now that is something that we never thought of, did we? What happens to our hero after he rides off into the sunset, having conquered his arch enemy?

Now that is a question which, in the coming years, would replace the "glass with the water" question. I my opinion this one would give us, the seekers of truth, better insights into about ourselves.

Back to the realist. We admit that we have no idea about the fate of the glass once she has answered "the" question.

She does not press us for an answer: maybe she knows it or perhaps she does not care.

Upon hearing her answer to the seemingly simple question, the pessimist and the optimist quietly get up and leave the room. They know that they have just been, shall we say, "Terminated". Well "terminated" is a very strong term so why not just say "replaced". Or better still "your services are no longer required, thank you".

So what did the realist say?

"The glass is leaking."

This train is bound for Nakano (or Imagination Engines)

A soft voice announces the destination of the train I take to work. The announcements are in Japanese first and then in English. The guard then announces the same in Japanese only.

The recording is unlike most of the recorded messages I have heard in India, where common phrases are recorded once and then mixed and matched to produce the complete sentence. Here in Japan, the recorded message is fluent and unbroken, which I guess is because its recorded completely in one go.

One such morning, I asked my friend, how do you think she is? "Who?".

I say the girl who recorded the message on train routes. He dismisses the question with, "aare whats there? She must be very fair and cute. She`s Japanese after all! Thats it! You dont have any imagination, do you?!"

Hmm.. this guy has some imagination. He could probably shoot the side of a barn with a shotgun and call himself a sharpshooter!

Listed below(oh! so formal) are some of the questions that occurred to me -

How was the girl selected to record the message?

Was there an audition?

What was the girl thinking when she was recording the train routes?

Was this something she wanted to do in the first place?

Was this what she wanted to do as a little girl?

Was does she feel when she`s in one of the trains and hears the sound of her own voice?

What would her children have to say about their mother?

Did she want to be a singer but ended up recording this?

Or is she a famous singer already and this was a kind of a favor she did to the Railway Department?

Is her boyfriend the biggest fan of her voice?

Did he propose to her because he fell in love with her voice?

Is this girl an employee of the Railways?

What do her co-workers think of her?

What would she feel when her recording was replaced with a different, perhaps a more youthful, voice?

The list is in no way complete.

And to get answers I guess I will have to start revving my engines.

Shoppers Stop

Q.1 How much time does it take to buy 2 trousers?


Long Answer: My onsite assignment to Japan was confirmed which left me with a week to shop, settle things with my landlord and take care of my beloved bike. Of these activities, shopping was the most time consuming activity. Compounding my inability to choose things quickly was the fact that no one, who had accompanied me before for any kind of shopping, was willing to do it again. The first time anyone did so was also their last. You`ll know why shortly.

Ok, so the list consisted of 4 trousers, 6 shirts, 3 tee`s, a couple of denims, a lot of winter wear and other essentials. I decided to start with trousers. The first hurdle was cleared when I learnt that Jai Prakash(JP) an old friend of mine was now the store manager at Shoppers Stop, Pune.

I was confident that SS would have a lot of variety and range, a kind of "one-stop-shop", to suit my needs. After fixing an appointment with the manager I was on my way, with a bungee cord (to strap all the stuff, post shopping, to my bike), to Shoppers Stop.

JP and I were meeting after about 4 years and so had a lot of catching up to do. We updated each other over some coffee and then the mission was on. Having a friend who is a store manager is good. Having a friend who is a store manager in the same store that you choose to shop is even better. Having a friend who is a store manager in the same store that you choose to shop and who is willing to help you is the best. That was what happenning to me.

"Deepak, zara sir ko Wills, Blackberry aur VanHuesen ke trousers dikhana". Deepak with two of his cornies is next to me in an instant. All of them are carrying more than 4 trousers of each brand! And so it finally began.

JP, besides being a good friend and a wonderful store manager, is also a husband and a loving son. However, his need to support his family far exceeds his desire to help me choose my trousers. So after about an hour and 20 trouser trials, he was beginning to fear for his job and the store! He left me with an execuse to attend to a problem. With their leader gone, the others too retreated in no time. That left me alone, but so what? I`m used to it.

I turned my attention to shirts and tried about 10 of them before deciding that they were beyond my budget (tubelight?). Soon, I was back attacking the trouser racks with unimaginable needs for pocket styles, self-designs, fronts, pleats, seam lengths, etc when one of the attendants had a brainwave. He took me to the tailor and left me there. He dissappeared before I could ask him the need to do so. It was a very subtle yet obvious way of telling me to get the hell out of the store and get a trouser stiched!! Hmm. (I did that too, but not before I had made an emotional wreck of the salesman at SS, and last I heard was the Raymonds head tailor was on a vacation to Bhutan; in Bhutan clothes are mostly wrap arounds!!)

So after taking the hint I was back in the trousers section and I guess JP had recovered by then. He did his best to help me again but soon, and as expected, had another meeting to attend to.

Finally, there was something I liked and was on my way to the cashier. After about 30 trouser trials, 15 shirt trials and 4 tee shirt/pullover trials, I purchased two trousers and went home for dinner.





Short Answer: 6 hours.

Pune Coimbatore – Honda Unicorn (The Longest Dream II)

I had planned to ride home for Diwali on my Honda Unicorn. I had done the trip once before in the heat of the summer, in April, but I wanted to do it again in better weather. As usual I had informed my parents that I was taking the train. My father had not brought this completely and when I told him that the ticket was in Wait List and not moving he got my uncle, a senior official in the railways, to flex his bureaucratic muscle and get the ticket confirmed. Now we all know that the building muscle takes time and so does acquiring a ticket no matter how gifted or powerful an individual is. So on Friday night after I had packed for the train journey, I got the call confirming that my ticket could move up only to WL02 and no further.

I was elated. I told my parents that I would try my best that get a seat on a bus to Bangalore. I tanked up, brought a new pair of shoes, repacked, prayed and slept soundly. Me and bikey were going to spend a lot of quality time together.

Day 1 (Saturday 10/10/09) : I told my landlord that I was on my way to Mumbai to catch a flight and left at 6.15am. This time I wore the heavier jacket, which I had worn during the trip to Nagpur a few weeks back. I also carried my lighter demin jacket, a raincoat and a large plastic bag to cover my luggage in case it rained. The weather was pleasant and I was cruising comfortable at 80-90kph, stopping every 60-70kms to stretch and walk around.

The roads were as they were the last time. The only major difference in the trip from last time besides the lack of extreme heat was that there was a lot of greenery around. There were also lots small ponds and rivers, full and almost overflowing, which added to the visual delight. Another major difference was that this time I had a dark visor fixed to the helmet. That made a world of a difference in riding comfort. I did not have to squint if the sun was in my eyes and even otherwise my eyes were always at ease. I would strongly advise all to ride with a dark visor while the sun is up and then switch to a normal visor when it gets dark. Lunch was at a small town called Hirebagewadi. The middle aged couple running the hotel was very courteous and friendly.

The last time I rode to Coimbatore the roads between Hubli and Chitradurga were shot. I was expecting the same this time also but I was completely wrong. There were almost no roads. In the patch starting a little before Ranibennur and continuing a few kilometers past Chitradurga it was all gravel with a few patches of tar left. The lighter side of the situation was that there were no bad roads to ride on. No roads means no bad roads. At times the dust was so much that I was soon covered in it and had to actually stop to dust it off me.

Amidst all the off-roading, a roughish sound from the engine caught my attention. I tried to ignore it at first but when it refused to subside I got worried. At Ranibennur, I had a mechanic check the bike. He said something about the timing chain being loose but assured me that there was nothing to worry and that I could ride on. He also checked the breaks and the drive chain and after some oiling I was on my way again. I reached Chitradurga by 6.30pm and decided to call it a day. I had planned to reach Tumkur if not Bangalore but the bad patch slowed me down a lot. Also, I had forgotten to carry the plain visor at the last moment and it was difficult riding in the twilight but thankfully I had almost reached Chitradurga. Tirumala lodge was not cheap at Rs.200 per night and neither were the people friendly but it was safe and very clean. and only about 50 meters from the highway. I had a dinner of assortments like cake, chocolate, fried gobi, masala bread, mangola and slept soundly.

Day 2 (Sunday 11/10/09): Started at 6.30 when the dawn was just breaking. It was a good decision that I had not started earlier otherwise I might've run into some rain. Breakfast was at 8.30 or so when I also called up my parents to inform them that I would be in Bangalore by 9.30am. On the outskirts of Bangalore there was a jam and there was a very long line of vehicles bumper to bumper and none of them were moving. I was at the end of the line which turned out to be a blessing. An Ambassador driver offered to help me and asked me to follow him. We took a detour thru town Nilamangala. I was in Bangalore at 9.30am and decided to take the Mysore bypass like I had done the last time minus the "riding into an unknown village" part. But there was some kind of cycling event going on and the bypass was blocked. I had to ride thru the town to exit it and it took me more than 2 hours to ride out and reach Hosur.

The city was not particularly crowed but traffic was slow because of the construction of the largest and biggest and longest flyover that I've seen. I lost my way a couple of times but was guided back by the friendly locals. All of them took an interest probably because of the way I looked. I stopped for snacks and fuel a little after Hosur and called my father to inform him that I was on a connecting bus to Coimbatore. At this point he was sure that I was riding and the entire bus thing was a hoax. There was no way I could have got a connecting bus so soon. Nevertheless he probably decided to play along.

As per fellow BMCT'er Dheeraj's advice I had decided to ride via Salem this time, but had to take the Bhavani route since it was raining after I crossed Dharmapuri and the clouds were heading away from Bhavani and towards Salem. I was correct in guessing that there would be no rain over Bhavani. I broke for lunch at Mettur. The rest of the ride was uneventful but there was a major difference between the last times ride and this one.

The last time I rode in April, it was my first 800+ km solo ride. I had been telling myself that if I crossed 800km it would be greater than the ride to Nagpur and thus I would have achieved my goal. That worked until I crossed my mark but then every 100kms after the mark was a pain. Since I was not mentally prepared to make the rest of the journey and had been satisfied with the success of having crossed 800kms. That had taxed me a lot because I was expecting to reach home any moment after the 800km mark, but was actually more than 400km from getting even close to it. The real deal as riding is, one can see the distance covered 100 meters at a time and feel it as much as one wants to. I guess all this is compounded when one is riding solo. There is no escape. This time I had was prepared completely for the fact that I've not reached untill I've reached. There was no "almost there" or "just another 150kms" kinda stuff this time. I was in control and knew exactly what was in store for me.

I reached the Coimbatore bye-pass by 4.30pm and it took me another half hour to reach home. My parents were delighted to see me and so was I. It was evident that my father knew all along I was riding and this time I had been had. It rained for the next 2 days that I was in Coimbatore and I must say I was really lucky that none of it happened when I rode.

Trip Stats :
Distance - 1225 kms.
Average Speed - 58kmph.
Top Speed - 90kph
Cruise Speed - 80kph
Mileage - around 45 kmpl i think)

The picture are here.

Pune Nagpur - Honda Unicorn - II

The title of this post leaves nothing to the imagination and thus I feel compelled to explain to the readers: why the titles of some of my posts are so unimaginative. I brought my Unicorn last year. You can read about that adventure here. Soon after I had the bike the "keeda" started growing and I wanted to ride long distances. There was no one I knew personally who had done such insane things, and that left me with only one option to look for guidance - the internet. My searches were always worded like the title of this post. Back then I could not have imagined the kind of rides people do and still have difficulty digesting the Saddle Sore stories from BCMTouring. Thus my first post on BCMTouring was titled "Pune - Nagpur Honda Unicorn". Since this is essentially a similar ride, the title is also similar.

The last time I rode, the ride was powered by nothing more than petrol for the bike and adrenalin to keep me going thru the night. I was under dressed, did not carry necessary documents, had not informed anyone about the ride and most importantly did not have a plan. Fortunately, I lived to tell the tale. I say so, because the kind of reports I keep getting about the route have made me a very grateful person. Now I also know that God is indeed kind and takes care of the stupidest of people.

Anyways, if you've managed to read this further I'm sure you'll have enough left to read the about the actual ride which by itself was not eventful. I was on bench in the company and wanted a break from the daily routine of not doing anything for 8 hours straight. I decided to ride to Nagpur to visit my sister.

Saturday (19/09/09): The road was clear and the air was chilly when I started at 5.45am. No sooner than I thought I had hit the highway I toyed around with the idea that this ride is going to be like meeting that special someone whom you've seen in your dreams, and have only a vague idea about, I took the wrong turn and reached Lohegaon Airport. Popat!!! Embarrassed, I saved my romantic thoughts for later and was back on the right track soon. The sunrise as usual was pretty but the chill remained long into the day. I had a near miss sometime after Pune when a guy with three kids on a bike crossed the four lane divider and stopped dead in my path. I wonder if he was thinking that this was Laxmi road, a very busy street in Pune, and that I would simply go around him. I was at 90kph when he decided that I had probably done enough tapasya and that I now deserved to behold his form mounted on a bike. “Vats, hum tumhari tapasya se kush hue. Hum tuhme hospital me rehene ka vardan dete hain!” I braked hard and literally skidded the last 20 meters or so before my right leg hit his tire and I stopped. All he did was grin. I thanked him and was on my way again. I rode thro Ahmednagar, Aurangabad, Jalna when I decided to take the route via Buldhana, Akola, and Amravati to Nagpur.

That would mean the date would be off since this was not the route I had taken (unknowingly) when I rode thru the night the last time. But fate had other plans and after a series of wrong turns I was back on the old route!! I almost cursed myself for having taken the lonely route but then as time passed the relationship deepened and old memories became fresh again. I could make out the places I had stopped at night the last time and could not help wondering if I would've done this had I known, so thoroughly, what lay in store.
The route was indeed very lonely even during day and had very few sign boards and petrol bunks. Food was thus becoming a problem. The hotels, already so few, were unimaginably filthy and I had to go hungry for some time. The best part of the journey was that the weather was pleasant all along and I was in constant touch with my sister who would look up a detailed map and instruct me on the route. I rode thro towns or passed by towns like Mehekar, Sultanpur, Risode, Washim, Yavatmal etc.

By late afternoon I needed fuel and I was still a long distance from Pulgaon - the town that had fuel for me the last time. Two petrol bunks went by that had no fuel and soon I was left with no choice but to head to Amravati, a large town, rather than risk riding into a small town and still end up with no fuel. This detour would've cost me a lot of time and I was also unaware then that the route from Amravati to Nagpur was shot for the last 60kms. My backup plan was to head to my mothers village, Chandur Bazar, in case it got dark sooner. Fortunately, I found a petrol bunk en route, tanked up and came back to where I had left the highway. Then detour cost me an additional 20-25kms. Now that this problem was solved, something else cropped up. Every time I hit a bump or a pothole, I could hear a the tinkling of a bell. Now, I had removed my studs a long time ago and so the possibility that they were banging against my head and making the sound was ruled out. I stopped several times and tried to find out what it is but could not zero in on anything. This continued up to Nagpur. I prayed that nothing should fall off the bike or something like that. I reached home in Nagpur at 7.30pm and was glad to finally take the butt of the seat for at least a few days.

Learning - Distance up to 500kms is comfortably doable. Up to 600kms is ok. Up to 700km is a pain and this - about 750kms, accounting for detours and lost ways, is a serious pain. And most importantly, if the final stretches are bad, you're toast. It’s like the the devil and the deep sea just that you’re sailing in the deep sea with the the devil is in the boat with you.

I spent a week with my sister and her daughter and had a very nice time. I also had the bike checked up at the Honda Service center. The guy was also not able to locate the source of the tinkling sound. I have a doubt that he checked my ears as well. My morbid sense of humor kicked in and I could picture The Undertaker and his assistant Pall Bearer making their entrance for a wrestling match - with me leading the way on my Unicorn all dressed in black. “For whom the bells toll”. The mechanic said that he would have to take the entire bike apart to locate the source but in either case it was a minor issue.

Sunday (27/09/09): I now had had enough of my date with loneliness and wanted to ride thro civilization. So, I started at 6.00am and took the route to Amravati. The first 60kms or so were under construction and so progress was slow. But the next 50kms were simply awesome and it was like riding on NH7 from Bangalore to Salem. I took the bypass to Akola and the route was good. Soon, the landscape changed and most importantly the traffic became sparse. This was becoming an indecent proposal. I had missed the turn to Akola and was heading back towards my old route. .........And the award for the Stupidest Rider goes to ... "Sachin K". When I told my sister of this all I heard was a click and the line went dead. No wonder people avoid me! So here I was desperately locked into the holy institution of matrimony with a route I had decided to avoid at all costs.

The remainder of the ride was uneventful as such and I reached Ahmednagar at 6.00pm. The sun was beginning to set by the time I was on my way again and I had a tough time riding the last 100kms because the visibility was poor and the roads were dug up. I reached home in Pune at 8.00pm. The last 30-40 minutes spent negotiating the Sunday traffic and ordering dinner.

All in all, it was a memorable week.
The pictures are here.

Ten Little Niggers

Ten little niggers went out to dine;
One choked his little self and then there were nine.

Nine little niggers sat up very late;
One overslept himself and then there were eight.

Eight little niggers traveling in Devon;
One said he'd stay there and then there were seven.

Seven little niggers chopping up sticks;
One chopped himself in halves and then there were six.

Six little niggers playing with a hive;
A bumblebee stung one and then there were five.

Five little niggers going in for law;
One got into Chancery and then there were four.

Four little niggers going out to sea;
A red herring swallowed one and then there were three.

Three little niggers walking in the zoo;
A big bear hugged one and then there were two.

Two Little niggers sitting in the sun;
One got frizzled up and then there was one.

One little nigger left all alone;
He went out and hanged himself and then there were none.

What's in a name?

I was in charge of designing a module which retrieved data from a database and passed it onto a machine learning algorithm. I was having some difficulty in naming a class in the module and decided to seek some suggestions from one of my colleague.

“What’s in a name?” he said rather stylishly. OK. So he knew something about Shakespeare’s quotes. Not impressive I thought and tried explain that (in software engineering) a name signifies the very purpose of a variable or class or a sub-routine, and as a rule names should be well thought of and carefully chosen. He interrupted me midway and said that he really did not care so much about names, including his or anyone else’s.

I was not aware then, that the moment a developer has a difficulty conjuring up a name for something; it means that the purpose of that thing is unclear. That apart, I took this up a bit personally and decided to test if this guy really lived by what he was saying.

I drafted a mail addressed to him explaining the present status of the module and deliberately misspelled his name. No prizes for guessing what happened next. The mail was duly acknowledged with a rather terse note on watching out for spelling mistakes. He had fallen right into my trap! Yeah!! me now turn into a big time con-man!!

“What’s in a name?” I replied.

Who wants to be Arnold?

"Anna, unga body supra irrku!"(Brother, you body is superb). "Thanks macha".( Thanks, buddy). I used to get that all the time when I was in college and working out (which was not too long ago).Now that I don’t workout as often as I used to (read: I workout once in a month), the frequency of such pleasurable compliments also has gone down.

A lot of guys would come up to me and ask for a few tips on working out and nutrition. "Sachin, can you tell me how to bench-press?” "Sure", I'd say and spend the next 10 minutes trying to explain the anatomy of the pectorals and how different exercises affect it. The newbie would be all attention during the lecture and when I'd be done, he would give me a grateful look and say "I forgot to add that I don’t want to look like Arnold". "WHAT??!!”

The first time that happened I chased the guy out of the gym. If I recall correctly a beautiful young lady from Vertex had raised a similar concern to the fitness consultants, whom Zelus, in their infinite efforts to increase employee awareness and delight, had roped in for a lecture on health and fitness. Last thing I heard about those consultants was that they had given up bodybuilding and taken up Origami.

I've come across people, many of them software engineers, who have a serious fear of turning into mean muscled monsters, as if it’s a very real possibility. Hmmm...now that I had matured.. I'm going to ask these engineers a simple question:
Q. Did any of you become Linus Trovalds or Richard Stallman because you wrote a few hundred lines of code?
The answer is an obvious NO. And so my friends, remember that, you will not become like Arnold, or or John Abraham or anybody else for that matter.

So what does it take to become an Arnold or Ronnie Coleman or Markus Ruhl? Besides the more obvious things like years of dedication and discipline, insanely heavy workouts, an enormous diet, a good set of parents and a huge capacity to endure pain and discomfort, there is an understated factor which is overlooked by most wannabe bodybuilders - the somatype or the basic body type.
Our body type is determined by the genes that are passed down to us by our parents.

There are three different body types.
1. Ectomorphs (male) or Thyroid (female) have a small frame with long lean muscles. Because of their fast metabolism, they can be a bit more relaxed about their diet. An ectomorph is relatively linear in shape with a delicate build, narrow hips and pelvis, and long arms and legs. Two of my classmates Cameron Diaz and Brad Pitt are both ectomorphs.

2. Mesomorphs (male) or Android (female) are more muscular and athletic with a medium sized frame and wider shoulders. This body type can consume a reasonable amount of calories since they tend to gain muscle more easily. A mesomorph excels in sports that require short bursts of energy, strength and lots of power. My former girlfriend and two time Olympic gold medalist Yelena Isinbaeva is an Android.

3. Endomorphs (male) or Gyaneoid (female) have a medium to large frame with a rounder figure. Since weight loss is more difficult for endomorphs, they need to watch their diet and get plenty of cardio exercise. A metaphor frequently used to describe an endomorph body type is pear-shaped. A pear resembles a body that has more weight in the lower region, like the hips and thighs, than the upper portion of the body. Some of my Gyaneoid’s I socialize with often are Jennifer Lopez and Shakira.

One of the most prime reasons of people discontinuing their workouts is a lack of gain. The skinny ones can’t seem to gain mass and the heavier lot cannot seem to reduce any weight. In most cases, the problem was that the workout was not designed by accounting for their body type.

Now that you know what type you are and what determines your chances of making it big in the bodybuilding circuit or just simple staying fit, I hope that none of you might have any inhibitions about working out, lest you wake up the next morning and have Arnold staring at you in the mirror.

"I'll be back!!"

The Longest Dream

Do dreams come true? If they do, does one ever realize that until the point that they realize that their wishes have been fulfilled, they have actually been living their dreams? Does one realize that when a dream comes true it ceases to be a dream?

My 2 week leave was approved and I was going home after 10 months. I had been planning this trip for more than a year, but due to some reason or the other, I could do it only now. I used to get mighty upset about not being able to do what I wanted to, but then we all know that “all that happens, happens for the good”, and I realized that all the “reasons” only served to prepare me for this moment. What I wanted was simple: I wanted to ride from where ever I was to my home in Coimbatore. “Ride” like in riding a motorcycle.

Prior to the journey, I spent a lot of time psyching myself, not to mentions having actually done distances of up to 750kms, solo, in a day. Having been an amateur powerlifter I know what it is to be mentally prepared to take on something that is apparently very hard. I had planned to ride from Pune to Coimbatore over the weekend.
Since it was the middle of summer and very very hot, I had decided that I would ride at night like I had before to Nagpur. But some of my friends who came to know of my plans expressed serious concern and advised that I should ride during the day. So be it, I said and decided to start early next morning. Over the next two days I would be consciously living my dream.

Day 1: I had planned to start at 4.30am and then take a long break in the afternoon to beat the heat. The alarm woke me up at 4.00am and I readied everything, only to realize that the rear tyre was flat. I was mighty surprised since I had checked on it at 11.00pm the previous night and all was well. Anyways, I uttered a silent prayer thanking God and went back to sleep.
I decided that I might as well stick to my original plan of starting at 4.00pm and riding thro the night. After a disturbed sleep I woke up at 9.00am and decided to fix the bike. At the puncture shop I met another guy with a bullet. He too enjoyed biking and had ridden up to Belgaum. He said the ride past Kolhapur was marvelous and went on to describe the terrain, the roads etc. Upon hearing his description I could not wait any longer and decided to start right away.

So after repacking and a quick breakfast I was on my way at 10.30am. The heat was terrific and I could only imagine what it would be in the afternoon. My ride to Ganpatipule had taught me valuable lessons about riding in the summer and this coupled with the knowledge I had gained by reading about "riding in hot weather", on the web, saved the day. I carried three packets of "Electral" with me to replenish the salts I lost due to sweating, since drinking plain water alone was not sufficient. Also, I soaked my tee shirt whenever I could. As the water evaporated, it carried away the heat and cooled me. I followed the advice from some of the senior members of BCMT to stop frequently and actually stretch, not just walk around.

The roads all along were superb, except between Dharwad and Chitradurga.
Fuel efficiency was at an all time low since I was cruising at 100-110km/h whenever I could because that is what the roads demanded.
Interestingly, the most fun filled part of the journey was not riding but updating my parents about my whereabouts. I had told them that I would be taking a bus to Bangalore first and from there a train to Coimbatore. They were under the impression that I was to start at 5.00pm that day. When I had crossed Katraj at around 12.00pm, I told them that I just had lunch. At the nimbu paani stop beyond Kolhapur I said that I had finished packing and was about to take a quick nap before boarding the bus.

I reached Davangere at 7.30pm and decided to break for the night. I spent the night in Sree Lodge which was highly recommended by the local police. Here I called my parents and informed them that I was about to go to sleep since the movie in the bust was pretty boring. Dinner was tomato curry, fried rice and rotis. I retired early at around 9.00pm but could get only about an hour and half of good sleep, because of the mosquitoes. I had not anticipated staying somewhere and thus did not have any repellants with me. That night the insects too had a good feast.

Day 2: At 4.00am I gave up on my attempts to get some sleep and decided to continue my journey. But before anything else, I vowed to bomb the mosquitoes if I ever stepped into the town again!!
I was on my way towards Bangalore at 5.00am. It was pleasantly chilly in the morning but the roads continued to be dug-up and unmarked.
The sun rose sometime past 6.30am. The sky was cloudy and there was a slight drizzle. I prayed that it should not rain since I did not have any rain gear with me.

I stopped for tea at 7.30am and realized that I was very hungry too. I reached the Bangalore-Mysore bypass at around 9.00am and stopped for breakfast. Having covered 850kms I was now approximately 400km short of reaching my destination. Come to think of it, that was almost half the distance I had already covered! But I was elated and started afresh.
Somewhere at the exit of the bypass I lost my way and headed into some village and it was well past 11.00am when I finally found the road to Hosur/Salem.

Riding on NH-7 was even more enjoyable than riding of NH-4. It was hot, but not as hot as it had been the day. I updated my parents by telling them that I had reached Bangalore and was now heading for Salem in a state transport bus.
A few kilometers short of a town called Dharmapuri I stopped to have coconut water. I exchanged my road trip details with three men who had also stopped to have a drink. They admired my bike and my courage for having come so far alone. Then advised me to take the route to Coimbatore via a town called Bhavani, instead of riding via Salem. It would save me about 40kms they said. For some reason, I thought that the route to Bhavani was through Dharmapuri. I entered Dharmapuri were election rallies were in full swing and thus was delayed due to the slow moving traffic. After exiting the town I was back on NH-17! Before branching off into Bhavani I stopped for fuel and wet my tee shirt again.

I crossed Bhavani and was in Avanishi at around 4.00pm. The traffic was very slow and the roads were narrow.At around 4.30pm I could see that I was at the outskirts of Coimbatore and neither my joy nor my sore butt knew any limits. I was nearing the end of a journey that I had been visualizing for more than two years! The final approach was marked by the familiar sight of the L&T bypass that starts at one end of the city and ends at the other end, just a few kilometers from where I stay.

I stopped to take one long look at the road behind me and reflect on all the emotions that I experienced since I started. My dream was about to end soon and become a reality. I reached home at 5.00pm that evening and took everyone by surprise. My parents were speechless for about a day! I had traveled thro three states in two days , Maharashtra, Karnataka and Tamil Nadu, covering a distance of 1225 kms, solo, in 21 hours.

The longest dream was over.

-------

Trip Photos are here.

Photos of the University campus where I stay are here.

Pune Ganpatipule

Onward Route: Pune-Tamhini Ghat-Nizampur-Mangaon-Mahad-Chiplun-Niveli Phata-GanpatiPule
Return Route: Ganpatipule-Guhagar-Chiplun-Mahad-Mangaon-Nagothane-Pen-Khopoli-Lonavala-Pune

Start time : 5.30am
End time : 9.30pm

Distance :734Km

The pics are at -
http://picasaweb.google.co.in/sachink.vertex/Ganpatipule#

The long weekend was approaching fast and I did not have a plan for it
With two days to go before the holidays began on Friday, I shortlisted two plans 1. Ashtavinayak and 2. Ganpatipule
After a lot of deliberations Ganpatipule won out and I decided to do the Ashtavinayak at a later date.

On Thursday, I packed my bag for a 2 day trip and also made sure the bike is in good condition.
I was also "camera ready" and rearing to go. (I do hope to be actually camera ready some day)

Started early at 5.30am because wanted to do most of the riding before it got really hot.
Surprisingly, it was pretty chilly until I reached Tamini Ghat.
The sun had started to rise when I was around Mulshi lake. I stopped for a while to witness the night make way
for the day. In most of my rides so far, I've always ridden into a sunrise and no matter from where I witness it it always fills me with a sense of unfathomable calm.

Soon I could hear the chirping of the birds and except for that there was no other sound. It was very very scenic and serene. After a couple of snaps I was on my way. The road thro Tamini ghat was under construction in many places and bad in other places. From there till Mangaon via Nizampur the roads were pretty good.

The ride on NH17 from Mangaon to Niveli phata was awesome with more than one ghat sections. Parshuram ghat and the section between the Ratnagiri-Pune border, especially, was full of twists and turns and I enjoyed them every bit. Mahad-Khed-Chiplun were covered in no time and soon I turned at Niveli phata towards Ganpatipule. From this point on the landscape was barren and the soil was dark except near the edges of the road, the earth was red. It looked as if the roads were laid on a red carpet.

Luckily I reached in time for the Arati and was the last person in the temple before the gates were locked. I clicked some snaps of the temple and then had prasad: Rice, boondi and pickels. Very tasty.
I lingered on the beach for some time and then decided to head back instead of staying on for a day. The "short-cut" to Guhagar from Ganpatipule was deserted and devoid of any sign boards.
One could easily get lost in the maze of roads in that area. Luckily for me I ran into a motorcyclist, and trucker and two village kids at all the points where I had to decide which route to take.
Also, these were the only people I saw on the entire 50km stretch.
I was expecting to ride by the ocean at least at some places on this route, but nothing like that happened. Instead it was a narrow road thru the forest and hills.

Thing did no go as per the original plan of visiting Srivardhan via Dapoli camp from Guhagar. There was a petrol bunk some place before Ganpatipule, but I had not tanked up there. Now, I was on the verge of switching to reserve and I could not locate even a single petrol station.
On enquiring with a passing motorcyclist, I learnt that there are none in the area and that petrol is sold illegally in some shops. Also that I would have to pay a very high price since I was not a local.

This was my crap out point and I decided to head back to NH17 intersecting at Chiplun. There were two petrol bunks at a town called Neli (I think). I tanked up and headed to Chiplun.
All this petrol shortage etc turned out to be a blessing in disguise because I was treated to one of the most beautiful roads ever. It was wide, well marked, and had sparse traffic. Riding to Neli to Chiplun was awasome.

I took a long break at 5.00pm and decided against taking the route thro Tamini Ghat home. The other route, that I knew, was via Panvel. I was around 170Km+ short of Panvel and from there my place would be another 100km or so. It was going to be a long ride back home. Next stop was at Mangaon for a wadapav and I was almost tempted to go home via Nizampur.
But it was already getting dark and the stories of dacoits and ghosts on the Tamini ghat kept me going straight ahead.

I crossed Nagothane after sunset and was 75km short of Panvel when I saw a way to Khopoli via Pen. Kohpoli was only 48km or so from here. Without a second thought I turned. The route up to Pen was good but from then on it was a nightmare. Mostly the roads were under construction and had only the gravel laid out. Riding on the gravel was worse than riding on bad roads.
I entered Khopoli via Shil Gaon and was looking at the final approach. By time I was seriously tired and aching all over.

I reached Pune (Aundh) at 9.30pm, had food and crashed at around 11.00pm.

neat eh?

First Flight

7th 2006 August marked the beginning of my professional life.
I was out of my house with a truck-load of degrees and now a "working" software professional. Thankfully I am still working.
Even though the first job was nowhere near what I had expected it to be, a job is a job after all. I was rather unsure about it from the beginning but was in because my father had insisted that I take it up. And if I were to "connect the dots" now, 3 years hence, I think being at Skyscape was one of the best things that happened to me.

Traveling by train was, and continues to be, super boring for me.
But I choose to endure the boredom rather than the guilt that would become a part of my life had I spent my dad's hard earned money on air tickets.
Coimbatore is 32 hours by rail, and a mere 1.5 hours by air, from Mumbai.
Now, since I was working and financially independent (well almost) and had the "power", however little, I vowed that I would always fly home. And more so, because I had flown only once before and that was before I could walk or talk.
On completing 3 months with the organization, along with the confirmation letter I received a "joining bonus". This bonus added to my "power" and just enabled me to get the cheapest air tickets I could find.

Even though booking air tickets is not inherently a complex process, I involved many of my colleagues in it. There was a lot of advice given on ticket prices on various web sites, agents who could get tickets at a lower cost, hackers who continually monitor the websites and who have brought tickets for as low as Rs.60, the time of the flight and its influence on ticket fares, fraudulent websites, etc etc.
The funny thing is none of them ever mentioned anything about the integrity of the airline even once. Am unaware of its reputation now, but back then Air Deccan meant cancelled/delayed flights, third rate service and virtually no guarantee that a having a ticket meant a ride in the sky.

Once the tickets were booked I made even more friends in the office.
Anyone and everyone who heard that I had an Air Deccan booking would come up to me
and narrate the terrible experiences they or their friend, or friends of their friends had had with the airline. One of them even advised me to have a back up railways booking, just in case. Thanks sir, your advice is greatly appreciated!!

I was set to fly on a Saturday morning at 7.20 am. Since I lived far from the airport and did not want to spend even more money on a early morning taxi, I decided to spend Friday night at my aunts place which is very close to the airport. After a light dinner I retired to bed at 11.00pm that night praying that nothing goes wrong with the flight plan. At 1.00am I was woken up by the beep of an incoming SMS.
I was wide awake instantly and knew something was wrong.
The message, after the headers and all, read something like "This is to inform you that your flight XXX from Mumbai to Coimbatore departing at XXX' some text missing....".
And so it dawned upon me, first hand, how Air Deccan got its reputation.
The missing part of the message arrived a few minutes later and said that " has been preponed by one hour."
Yeah! God is indeed great.
Soon after the message, there was a call from the airlines representative also informing me of the change in
departure timings. Neat.

I checked in at 5.20 am on Saturday morning and soon there was an announcement or something like that which told me that the flight had been delayed by an hour due to technical difficulties. Perhaps I had spoken too soon about God being great.
After waiting for 2 hours, I thought we were finally ready.
All of us boarded the flight and I was surprised to see that the interior of the "Airplane" looked like that of a "Asiad" bus. Just one big block of seats packed together. I was expecting to board the flight with a lot important looking executives, geeks who could not take their hands of a laptop, a picnic group with lots of beautiful girls, some cute couples and a flirt who on trying to get fresh
with the stewardess gets kicked off the before take-off.
Perhaps I could also throw in a son taking his aging father on a trip. (I watch a lot of movies.)

That whole image was blown to smithereens when I saw that there was a mad rush to occupy the best seats in the plane.
Families were literally rushing in their younger members with handbags and handkerchiefs, so that seats could be booked. What the *&^%!! These kind of scenes were common on State Transport buses, but I had never imagined it on anything else but a "lal dabba". Once all were seated and ready and the pilot appeared and announced that there will be a further delay because the another technical problem has cropped up. A failed unit test case I thought. I just hoped the airplane unit testing is not carried out the way I do it. If some code fails some test, I just delete the test from the test suite. And then magically all code passes all the tests.

If the mad rush for a good seat was not enough, soon after taking off, the air hostess appeared carting along a trolley full of eatables and water.
For a moment I thought she is going to start hocking Chinese pens with a torch or a "disco mala"!!

I was soon asleep and was woken up when the pilot was describing Ooty to our right and instructing us to put on the seat belts.

"What do you do on weekends?"

"What do you do on weekends?", asked Rohit.
I said "I read books, clean my room, and sleep".
"How interesting", said Rohit but the look in his eye told me that he thought it was going to be a boring lunch with me. After all, what is "interesting" about reading books, cleaning and sleeping? Nothing. And upon reflecting about the answer I gave, I too started having doubts about my "interestingness".

But then, serious adventurers are known to have a very high co-efficient of excitation. In English, it means that unless there’s something really really wild to do, they'll be engaged in the kind of "interesting" acts listed above. Only a very whacky idea gets them going and that was exactly what got me going last weekend.

I had slept enough for a day, also had had a very heavy lunch and also read a lot. So, going by the norms, I was being myself on this particular day. In the evening I decided to go to my uncle’s place, in Kothrud Pune, like I do on most weekends. So I packed for an overnight stay and started. Since the bike was almost dry I decided to tank up. While waiting in the line to get fuel, I noticed a guy up ahead of me all suited up, gloves, scarf’s, bags tied to the rear seat with bungee cords etc. Wow! a real biker, I thought. On closer inspection I realized that he was a vacuum cleaner sales man. All that gear was on because he probably had to do a lot of calls during the day. It had nothing to do with riding out, but that switched something in me to "ON". The next thing I am doing is withdrawing cash from an ATM and calling my uncle to tell him that there has been a change in plan.

Nagpur is almost 800Km from Pune. I decided to ride to Nagpur thro the night!!
Why? for 3 reasons -
1. My parents were there for some days and this would be a good chance to meet them.
2. My mother was unwell and thus, it would be good if I could be there to offer some support. Later she would be sicker on learning that I rode thru the night to be with her!!
3. I had nothing else to do.
I was on my way by around 7.00pm. I only had a very faint idea about the route, meaning I knew I am starting from Pune and had to reach Nagpur and that there’s a town called Ahmednagar en route. That’s about it!!

I reach Ahmednagar by 9.45pm because the weekend traffic was heavy and the roads were dug up and also because I was riding slowly. Stopped at a petrol bunk and filled petrol for Rs.50. I was already almost full but did not want to take any chances.
The road after Ahmednagar was excellent, except for some craters, that would have tested a T90 (an army tank) to the limits, and I reach Aurangabad at 11.00pm.
The guys at a petrol bunk in Aurangabad bunk didn’t know what to say, when I told them that am riding to Nagpur. Here I filled petrol for Rs.150.

I must admit that I was mighty apprehensive about the whole plan right from the start. I had never done anything close to this distance ever. Leave alone riding at night. All along, up to this point I was telling myself, there’s nothing to worry and that I can back out anytime. I had the money, and if things went really bad I could check into a hotel anywhere and forget about the journey. Anyways I had not shared this with anyone, so no one would know that I failed a solo attempt and thus the ego damage would be minimal.

The ride from Aurangabad to Jalna was the most difficult part of the journey. I was starting to get sleepy, a bit, I thought I was getting hungry, cause I had not had anything since lunch, and most importantly the "me" part of the trinity "I, me and myself" which forms me as a whole was beginning to make my life difficult. "I" was always having this argument with "me" right from the start about the whole thing with "myself" playing referee and offering suggestions and contingency plans.

Now at 12.00 midnight, I was reaching the PNR and things had to be settled. And so they did. “Myself” offered his last plan and all three of us merged seamlessly back into a single entity and continued riding. There were no more doubts or fears about anything. There was only one thing to do, ride. The night was clear and cruising at 90kmph, the only sound I could hear was that of my engine, and see the road only up to the point where the high-beam disappeared into the darkness.

I drifted off the highway at around 1.00am and rode into some town. Thankfully, I was guided back on track by a localite. From this point on the journey was very very loney and sometimes it would be 20 minutes before I could spot a truck or a car. It was getting cold and I had to put on my other tee shirt. I also tied a handkerchief around my neck to try and keep it warm. Thankfully I always carried a pair of gloves with me.
I took a break at 2.00am when I spotted two men hunched over a small campfire. They were very kind to me and directed me further, with a bit of advise: not to tell anyone that I've come from Pune and going to Nagpur. They said if I have to stop and speak to anyone all I should be telling is that am from some town nearby. They also quickly gave me plenty of reasons why one should not be travelling alone. That part of the state had supposedly a higher number of dacoits etc.

After a 10 min break I started again and lost my way again after an hour or so. Not that I was nervous, but I couldn’t help imagining a female running next to my bike. This was from a ghost story I had heard from my friend Ashwini. Apparently, while travelling late in the night, bikers used to come across a young female trying to get a lift. If they stopped, she disappeared, but if they did not, she ran along with them for some distance! What had happened was that this couple was riding late in the night and had an accident. The guy was killed or almost killed while the girl tried her best to get some help. Since no one stopped, she too succumbed to her injuries, died and became a ghost. How convenient! That was near Indore though. I freak easily so I just tried my best to imagine a beautiful ghost instead of an injured one. This time I had to flag down a car since there was no one in sight. Well, it was 3.00am. The people in the car were helpful and I followed them for another hour or so until I had to change direction.

At 4.00 am I stopped for tea at a dhaba and was around 250km short of reaching my destination. The dhaba was actually closed but the dhabawala was kind enough to make some strong-sweet tea for me. I enquired about a petrol bunk nearby and he told me that all of them would open only at 7.00am.
When I restarted I was low on fuel and had to cruise at 50km-60km to save fuel. This part of the journey was very tiring. I was chilled to the bone, low on fuel, my shoulders were aching, and my right hand was going numb from time to time. I rode like this for almost 3 hours and also encountered a dead body in the middle of the road. I was already slow and had to slow down further to maneuver past it. It looked like a hit and run case, or whatever but I did not have it in me to stop and investigate! And it was sometime since it was lying there since there was this foul odor emanating from it. I know about the odors of dead bodies because I had volunteered in the Gujrat Earthquake Relief operations and had dug out several bodies that had been trapped in debris for more than a week.

The sunrise at 6.30am was beautiful because it brought with a promise of much needed warmth. I don’t remember ever waiting for the sun to rise like I did on this particular night. I realized that I had been riding for almost 12 hours now. At around 6.45am I spotted a petrol bunk at a town called Pulgaon refilled for Rs.100 and was on my way again.

I reached my home at around 8.00am and surprised everyone. It took them the better part of the day to come to terms with what I had done. As expected, I was not allowed to ride back to Pune and the bike was sent by train. I took a bus back home 2 days later.

So that was it. That was what I did on this particular weekend. I am after all “interesting”.

I Shouldn’t Be Alive

Its been almost 2 months into my new job and I have enjoyed every day of it.
Although there hasn’t been single day when I have not compared it to my previous job,
it has not been the routine kind of comparison that one tends to make after a switch.
The comparisons have led me to mail my previous bosses and colleagues, thanking them for contributing towards my professional and personal growth.
(No, its not because I thought I should try insure myself against the economic meltdown and the obvious effects on the IT sector.)
So, here I was, having a sumptuous meal in the spacious eighth floor canteen with my team member and ex-team members and as is the natural order of things, after sometime, the conversation settled down on the obvious.
Now, all of us have some kinds of, to be a little technical, a hashmap, which defines a key, value pair. These hashmaps are numerous for all the kinds of experiences, people, relationships, "you-name-it-you-got-it", etc that we encounter, meet and have.
In the context of our professional experiences one of the maps we might have is the one describing the relationship between the designation a person has and the roles and responsibilities that need to be carried out.
Coming back to the obvious discussion that was in progress, all of us started dumping our hash maps w.r.t the one person that was in everyone’s map.
The key in this case was obviously the same in every case but the values were all pretty different. While some of them had a very philosophical view towards the value in their map and some of them had straight away attributed it to the I.Q, still others were blaming themselves for having had to insert such a key-value pair in the first place. I thought I was going a step further (or rather backwards) when I was querying as to who would have created such a key-values pair in the first place, when one of the ex-team member stumped all of us with what he had to offer.
Apparently, he did not stop at analyzing the value but went ahead and shared with us the effect of the key that he was experiencing. Towards the end of the meal, all we had for him was sympathy.
For the key-value pair that he had in his map, all he had to say was "I shouldn’t be alive".

And you think your boss makes your life miserable?

Look before you leap

"Be careful for what you wish, your prayers might just be answered", is my new and improved version of the famous idiom. Back then I could have never imagined that things can go so horribly wrong. Its been more than a decade since the classic "break off" and I find myself unable to move on completely. Now is such a thing so difficult after all? Maybe, maybe not. Although one might be tempted to say that its not so difficult, given the time, and all, to really make an educated guess (I wonder who would want to quantify such a thing, but this just seems the effect of the process documents I'm reading at the new job!) about the difficulty level, one needs to know what went into the relationship rather than what caused it to crumble. In my case, one thing; one powerful thing; a prayer. Yes, I used to pray a lot back then and only for one thing - to keep us, the happy couple, together forever. Unfortunately the prayers have been answered. So even now, after almost everything we tend to be attached in some way.
Although I am not praying otherwise, if anyone knows an "undo prayer" technique please let me know.