Jodhpur and the rest

On my run run run spree again, have decided to check out Rajasthan, cities chosen are Jodhpur, Jaipur and Jaisalmer. Reason being, a lot of miscellaneous information and notions thrown in together as well as the fact they are almost in a straight line, Jodhpur falling in between the other two is approx. 5-6 hours from both by bus, and to cram up max touring in less time you could utilize the night time by doing slow (approx 7 hrs) traveling by train during night.

Before embarking on the tour-de-tricity I had sworn I would be well equipped with a camera, I can’t let any other beauty pass me by without having a tool to capture it.

First lap: Pune-Mumbai (buy camera)-Jodhpur
I am leaving my flat at Viman Nagar, its not day yet, everybody sleeping, feels strange, I realize though I can any time return to Pune, I guess this chapter is closed, I keep looking around the room for some time and stare out of the balcony for a little more, I guess the balcony was the best part of it, waking up (to sleep again) to see the rising sun tinting the sky red, coming back from office early in the morning, this was the part which would give away signs that another day had dawned and I thought I could stretch time by extending night into forever.

This is the first time I am traveling to Mumbai by train, seems lovely outside, but I unfortunately chose ac chair car, so I feel a little locked out and doze in between, blaming it on packing stuff, though I didn’t do much of it physically, but I seek excuse in mental exhaustion and the fact that I had been running around, meeting people, climaxing it with as always lovely dinner with the Mennon family, this time Meera didi’s mother also was with us, though it was one of the low spirited ones.

I reach Mumbai VT, it is almost nearing 11, and my train leaves from Bandra terminus at 3:00. Cannon S1IS is what I am looking for, realize it has been recalled, though I find a vendor who claims he can get it for me, I do a little more search, nope nowhere else is S1IS being offered, get online do a little comparative study of prices, check up with official cannon dealers, little more to an fro calls with shopkeepers, I finalize, go to ATM withdraw cash, shit now my wallet would not fit into my jeans, what am I whining about it would not even fold. The whole episode wraps by 2, standing at the cloak room I just confirm with the cloak room people the best way to get to Bandra, though I had already bought a ticket for Sion, they exclaim, no no, a definite no no, that is ridiculous, the guy gives me step by step instructions, go cancel the ticket, get a new one to bandra, take an auto from bandra to terminus, OK? Oops, I run back, the guy at the ticket window is confused, thinks I am getting it cancelled because he gave me a sion ticket by mistake, no time to correct him, though I can clearly see the guy is not happy with the thought.

It is 2:10 by now, I get onto the train to Bandra, which is scheduled to leave at 2:20, I realize it is a slow local, holding the poles at the entrance of the local train I scan the crowd, start questioning two 30ish guys , ask them whether I can catch a fast local, they tell me there are no fast ones to bandra on this track, one suggests I should catch a taxi, the other one just looks unsure of the suggestion, wow he is confusing me, I am aware taxis are a no no for long distance quick travel, but this guy keeps muttering, “taxi, taxi”, damn, on my repeated stressed questioning of his confidence in the valuability of his suggestions, he goes and asks a man standing nearby. Now let me impress upon you right now, when in a new city, or on travel, when asking for directions, you can get little one sentence facts straightaway without cross-questioning, but if your next course or route requires even slight amount of personal decision making then you have to first satisfy your helper’s curiosity, why do I have to rush, which train do you have to catch, in Mumbai and in other big cities I guess its less, but in small towns, be prepared to open up.

Coming back to the gentleman standing with the lady, so he asks me for some necessary information, as to how much time I have, what is the train I am catching, where do I go to, he realizes the shit I am in, but shakes his head and addressing those two guys and me says taxi would be a sure way to miss the train, wow, and these guys almost had me jumping onto a taxi, anyway after seriously considering all the options out loud he imparts me the information that I cant do anything but sit in this local train, he says there are no options at all, and says I might make it by a narrow margin. I get into a self reproach, coupled with little panic triggered imagination of me on my way to jodhpur sitting on the floor or standing in a crammed sleeper. I just sit there and let my thoughts go in a circles of self-reproach, when I realize the lady who was standing with the uncle has come running to my window, sees me and says “there she is” and happily beckons somebody, there comes the guy and he tells me that the train on the next platform leaves four minutes earlier. Cool, I jump onto it, I guess by now I have the harassed look on my face cause the moment I enter, I am asked where do I want to go, when do I have to reach there, and given reassurances that I will make it just on time, well just the thing I am hoping for. Isnt Mumbai amazing??? Although, there is no coach or compartment reserved for a community, but looking around this one, I sense these are all Muslims, but in every way true Mumbaite, compassionate reassurances and instructions are sent my way.

The second the train halts at Bandra, I jump onto the platform, run to the entrance, hot into an auto, at Bandra … the moment I start sprinting towards my platform, I can hear some dear spirits screemin “oh ho …. Express to choot gayi” , panting, though stil not carrying my luggage I realize I am following a coolie, I board the train after having run for miles, sitting in the compartment I can hardly believe my luck. The train finally started 1 and a half hours later.

Next day
I will be reaching Jodhpur by 9 or so, nothing appealing happening out of the window, pretty monotonous, there is a lady in my cabin, who keeps moving a lot, more like hopping from the bottom birth to top with amazing ease, and yes doing it a lot, she has a lot of luggage distributed over top berths and of course under the birth, is dressed in typical marwari style, when I am brushing my teeth I notice her sitting at a seat near the door, which you find in some of the coaches, she seems to be enjoying her tobacco. Back to my seat , after some time, I am somehow in conversation with her, she tells me she is going to a ceremony of some sort to her village, says since she is going after quite a long time, hence a lot of luggage. My natural curiosity of as to how is she going to mange, she says the usual coolie, auto etc; I realize not an issue with her at all. Pretty unusual for a married woman traveling alone, not that it is a big deal, but I have never met anyone like her before, all of them even consider traveling alone a big thing as well, even though you they would have somebody seeing them off, and somebody waiting for them at both the ends. In some time I realize, the ceremony is no usual ceremony she is going for, she is going fro her niece’s ‘niksa’, which she explains as her renunciation of the worldly things. From now on her niece, will have no family, will travel by foot, will never board a bus, train, bullock cart, or any mode of transport in short, she will move cities, she will be heading to Kanyakumari from here, she will never even touch a man, I am a little foggy about this but as to her food I guess she said, she can not eat something that was cooked specifically for her, she can only consume leftovers, only if there is something going to waste.

I am tentatively bugging the lady now for more details, this is news, till now I was only aware of one name, Gautam Buddha, who had left every worldly possession just like that, and now the lady in front of me seems to know dozens who do it around her. I am amazed, I ask her and in turn am trying to wonder what this society is like, in which several households seem to have let their dear ones depart from them in this fashion. She states is as a matter of fact, though with a little grimness, “agar aatma palat jaaye to koi kya kar sakta hai”.

Yeah i am busy, bye

Listen, when I said, ”Yeah I am busy, bye”, all I wanted to really say was as follows:

I aint busy working my ass off, like you do, I aint busy spending my time chatting with the 100 people on my list, fooling myself that they are so fun to chat to, I aint busy exercising my charms and my good natured-ness on some fellow without ever actually giving a dime about them, just like you do, I aint busy just enjoying every mundane moment of the corporate environment around me.

But I am busy, untroubled in my cocoon, gobbling up new books, new movies, learning from them, changing with them, partaking a part of me the last time I read catcher in the rye, and discover something within me when tears warm my face, when I watch Dancer in the dark, busy turning the lines and recreating the image from the God of small things.
I am occupied … with things which are cherished by me, maybe in some time a void will appear, a void created by people left behind, but I guess that void is always there, and I would rather leave parts of it empty than let worms crawl into it.

Dancer in the Dark

This is one movie which took me completely unawares, all my guards down. I completely forgot I was watching a movie. As a rule I never forget that, even if the subject appeals to me , there is a part of my brain which sits back stone-faced and slices and dices the stuff on the screen, toys with it wondering where to place it.

The movie walked around me like a person, a person who draws you unto them with their never seen before openness, everything, every gesture is just right, you just take the hand which is offered to you without a question and start walking the trail they walk, forgetting for those few minutes who you are, what you are. I forgot the fact that I am just a person sitting in a chair watching the goings on of the screen, surrounded by strangers in a cinephiles club.

I feel a little weird admitting it. I know the movie was very different than any movie I had seen till date, in a lot of ways. But what was the diferentest was the way I reacted, I thought I didn’t know myself that day, I didn’t know I was so pliable, so touchy. And I am so scared to admit my opinion of it, because this one crossed the lines of being another film with the revelations it brought alongside.

The strangest thing of is all the way I was that day, the way I reacted, the way I felt muted after the movie, the deep dull weight in my head and in my chest , how when I was finally in bed again the thought of wretched poverty would get me crying again.
First of all, tears started streaming down my face somewhere mid-way through the movie. Ok my eyes do get little moist once in a while when watching a movie. But this was strange, they seemed to be streaming down as if a sudden excess of fluid had been detected in my body and had to be urgently released. But generally in every movie there are one or two such phases. But bro this movie was nothing of phases it was one helluva experience, they rocked, the filmmakers shook me up, till I forgot all restraints and was crying openly I was beyond all sense of control. Here I was sitting among strangers, by the end I had stopped wiping my face, and in the last few minutes I almost crumbled into me, and was very aware of an unknown pressing ache in my chest, I thought it was because of the uncomfortable chairs, but later I realized it was nothing but weight of the sadness thrown off the screen.

Spoiler- plot give away follows ........
The movie is heartbreaking. It transports you to this forsaken land of innocence.
Selma (Björk) is this naive, honest factory worker, who is saving money scrupulously for her son’s eye surgery to save him from falling prey to impending blindness, which has already advanced upon her as she moves to middle age. Everyday when she steps out of work there you find Jeff waiting for her hoping she would accept his offer of a lift back home. With time her blindness becomes apparent to those close to her, and their concern for her rises to anxiety, but Selma smilingly casts aside their worries and admits to have no need for eyes anymore, she has seen all she ever wanted. A beautiful song ensues where Jeff is telling what all is left to see, where Selma is happy simply recounting all she has come to see.

Though the movie is not a feel-good candy floss even from the beginning, what with Selma and her kids life in a foreign land, her saving money, her kid’s running away from school every now and then, and her foggy sight. But, there is this pure warmth that one feels for some time in the beginning, which is lost as Selma’s naiveté is cruelly punished for by the neighbor and the owner of her trailer, when she confides in him about her illness and the fact that she is saving money to protect her kid from the same sickness. And what hurts the more is because she did this just to ease him of his debt-related worries.

Bill is brilliantly acted out by David Morse. I loved this character so much because there is a lot of ambiguity in defining it just they way you can never really pen down a person as one discrete entity. I love the way Bill is shown as this usual nice caring husband, friendly neighbour, generous landowner. But once he learns of Selma’s stashed away fortune and her near-blind eyesight how he stands in a corner one day to learn the place where she keeps her money and eventually takes it. The character Bill before resorting to stealing also tries to emotionally coax her into giving him the money, by offer of quick return, by telling her that he has been thinking of killing himself. Even in the sequence of last struggle between these two before he dies, I was not sure whether some part of him is actually resorting to death as an escape to this problem, as well as hoping that her blindness might fool her into giving up, thinking he has been hurt.

It’s a story told with a purity of unbiased unopinionated view. It made me a child again, how I would read a story and be swept into the world opened up before me, unwarily, how my happiness would depend on how happy everybody in the story ends up.

Recently i came upon this review of Dancer in the Dark, and i think this one says it so much better and echoes what all i couldnt express but agree with.

Here:

Milestones !!!

First
I am a spectator again, as in my role in life is currently basically of a spectator, but not that of any sports AT ALL. FIFA world cup 2006, brings me to the front of the tube, I ignore songs and the general channel surfing is shunned when they come to play.
I watched the opening match, just like that, I guess because people around me were watching me and get introduced to terms like MF DF Strikers.

Yesterday I find myself catching the ESP vs UKR, though this time nobody else is watching it, I had no idea you get hooked to soccer so easily. The sheer power and team play at work which is put on display crammed into 1 and half hours is scintillating.

Yesterday’s spectacle reminded me of how I used to be a devout cricket follower as a kid, at least when my parents would permit TV viewing. How we would switch to radio if the power went off during a India vs X during world cup. How on the day of a final the whole family will sit from morning to evening (provided it was weekend) with the day passing by and the tension mounting. And how I suddenly stopped, when one name after the other, was dragged in the mud, with claims of match fixing. The hardest blow of it all was Hansie Cronje. Cronje epitomized the perfectionist and impeccably the true champion for me in those days.

Now I rediscover the joy of enjoying a sport without ever having played it, it is so much different from the delights of watching a theatrical performance, here the whole script is is written and executed in front of your eyes, its impromptu you could say. But the way spain played yesterday, I reailsed the biggest kick you get out of being a soccer apectator would be by watching an example of perfect teamwork at play when one goal is brought to fruition by 11 kyes synced together.

And today, today my mind kept returning to the perfect clockwork like execution of the last goal, it looked like a well orchestrated, perfectly rehearsed move. And now I find myself looking forward to going home and catching the next one.

Second
I have touched 50 kgs, somewhere in these few days I have crossed the line :-). And this definitely is a milestone.

Random snips- from a conversation one day

1. We are called homo sapiens , but years of 'civilized' living has made one organ 'the brain' go so disparate that though still physically alike on a mental scale we can be classified into many species.
2. Just another one of the millions of samples of homo spaiens crawlingon this planet.
3. As in why are wearing clothes, animals are not, but if we dont cover oursleves then we are mad, as we are very different to not feel the need of it.
4. Lot of what we do is conditioned by the culture around, we never question it.
5. Sorry i know i do what comes within the least resistance path and gets me max satisfaction.