The swirling sands of Jaisalmer

After incessant questions from people who thought we were plain dotty to tour the desert in the month of July or that we were both on lookouts for exotic places to get married(no no, not to each other, stooopid), my friend, Radhika (let’s call her R) and I valiantly set out for our much-awaited trip to the Golden City, Jaisalmer.

And might I say, we were not disappointed.

Though the train journey of around 20 hours dampened our initial enthusiasm, books, those best friends, kept us sane. Add to that, incessant cups of tea, entertaining tourists in our coach, chattering, standing at the foot of the train step (guaranteed to give my Mom an acute case of alarming hiccups), and you get the picture, dontcha…

The next day, we descended at Jaisalmer station - a picturesque fort-looking structure (on our way to the hotel, we soon gathered that most official buildings, banks, post offices etc were shaped like forts, and it was difficult to distinguish one building from the other – thanks to the same sandstone used).

The hotel turned out to be a lovely haveli which had been converted into a boutique hotel. We were whisked to see our room, and discovered that every room was done up in a particular vivid shade. After ensconcing ourselves in the lavender colored room, we grinned at each other. We had made it to Jaisalmer. All those days of looking forward to the place could not equal the satisfaction we felt when we peeped out from behind the lavender curtains in the hotel room, and caught yet another breathtaking view of the Jaisalmer fort. Perched on a hillock, it looked fantastic, to say the least.

Bargain shopping was fun. But the most fun was going to where the Thar desert began by an open-roof jeep, and then getting onto camels. Yes, the desert safari was indeed something. While the camels gallantly plodded through the sand, we couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the vast expanse of vacant land around us. Seeing the forts, temples, lake, and havelis in the morning, had made us feel as if we had been thrown back into time. However, now in the midst of the desert, where not even a bird fluttered, and a shrub bravely put up its head from amongst the sand, we felt in the middle of nowhere.

The sight from the top of the sand dunes was breathtaking, to say the least. The orange sun which was slowly setting, made for a sight that I won’t forget in a hurry. And when the camp people proceeded to break off some twigs, and make some fresh tea for us, the aroma that wafted towards us was lip-smacking. The sandstorm the previous day had ensured that the day was pleasant, with the sun not beating upon us mercilessly, but graciously giving way to a gentle drizzle.

The over one hour drive back from the desert was peppered with excited chatter, but after a while, we drifted off into an exhausted slumber land. The trip was rapidly coming to an end, and we knew it. Yet the eyes could scarcely stay open.

The next morning dawned with a fierce sun, which seemed intent to show us what a desert actually was. Slathering ourselves with triple layers of sun block, we made our way one last time to the market and fort, soaking in more than the sun – soaking in memories, before we made our way back home.

My only regret – I wish I had made the trip with him…Walking among the sand dunes barefeet, I was engulfed by an inordinate yearning for his footprints matching mine in the sand…

Who says exercising is fun??

So yours truly joined an aerobics batch a couple of days back.

Though she has been trying her best to keep up her cheerful demeanour, she only knows the many aches that can scarcely keep from escaping her tightly pursed lips.
Muscles that she barely knew existed, are making it a point to get their hours of fame - throbbing, and getting more than their fair share of sore acknowledgement.
The feeling is akin to that of an iron camping bed, creaking at all joints – not a very happy feeling at any cost.

Thank God the batch members more than make up for the pain she is undergoing by sheer variation of their vivacity, and general camaraderie.

So when she goes One-Two-Three-Four, in tune with the pulsating music, the encouraging smiles of her fellow-sufferers is the only thing that helps her keep up with the steps, and stop her from frowning when stern instructor belts out a command to not hog the air conditioning unit.

Drat all those endless Highball glasses of Old Monk she irresponsibly consumed, thanks to which she now has to sweat it out at the gym…

No Hic Hic for her for quite some time now.

"Driving" a wedge between schoolchildren

A schoolboy in Chicago won the lottery from amongst 1,90,000 students – all of whom secured perfect attendance at school.

Brought me back memories of my own school days, where I would have probably been the contender for top honors for the same spot, thanks to parents who believed that rain or shin, a child’s rightful place was the school. A little fever notwithstanding.

So downpour or sultry morning, yours truly would drag herself out of her toasty / cool and inviting bed, shuffle to the loo to make faces at the mirror while brushing her teeth, inspecting her eyes, skin, anything that would give her a chance to pinpoint at it, and thus create an official excuse for not attending school.

No such luck, however.

My eyes would always be crystal white, skin a spotless shade of alabaster, pimples an unknown word, and forehead always the right degree of warm. Nothing more, nothing less.

And my parents an unrelenting shade of grey.

When I would reach school, a storm roaring outside, and looked around to see the rows of empty desks around me, a sense of annoyance would sweep over me.

Why couldn’t a little fever creep over me sometimes at least?

Talk about good health, duh!

And to think I would get a certificate and a book at the end of the year, while this 12 year old schoolboy walked away with a neat Dodge Caliber.

There is nothing like justice in this world, I daresay!!

ADD and me

It’s official.

I am a certified sufferer from ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder).

So while I am in the midst of discussing the dynamics of an important project at work, I have been known to screw my nose, look quizzically around, and ask if anyone other than me could smell someone wearing Ralph Lauren Polo Sport.

Obviously, the only thing I get to see are some blank stares, and an exasperated sigh from my favorite colleague, let’s call her ‘N,’ and a nudge that signifies see-I-told-you-she-was-weird-didn’t-I?

At some other point of time, my eyes will glaze, hearing someone drone about the same crib (yet again), and then suddenly light up of their own accord. The reason – I just realized that the weekend was near, and i could indulge in some retail therapy – my absolute favorite…

Of course, fidgeting, looking into vacant spaces, pulling out my lower lip – all when someone is trying to strike a conversation with me, are fairly common features.
Now this is not to mean that I want the conversation to center on me. Nope, far from it.

Just that a feeling of inordinate restlessness slides over me, and that I get distracted a tad too soon, an annoying feature to everyone, I am sure.

So while I work upon it, and promise that I will not toss my hair around while you continue with your monologue on the rising cost of gas, it is only fair that you glance at the pretty butterfly that just glided over to those sunflowers, and also see that guy over yonder with the crooked nose…

When will my horrid fever break?

With a five-day fever that refuses to leave, yours truly has truly been under the weather.

Add to that sales galore and she unable to lift a pretty foot to step outside home to do justice to them. Quite a sad state of affairs, I must say.

So while the rest of the world enjoys savories in the rain outside, she has to stay cooped up at home, with only endless cups of tea to keep her company, and the odd stack of magazines that, despite their multi-colored hue, do little to add cheer to her life.

Then, there are the medicines that have to be popped into her unwilling mouth ever so often. Medicines which try to disguise their bitter, poisonous taste by their gaily-colored appearance, but which fail miserably. And the ever-smiling doctor who pats your feverish hand, trying to feed you a whole lot of jazz about how it is a seasonal fever, and how by the next day, you would be hopping like a tadpole - happy, sickness-free, sans the croaking voice. And who, smilingly, adds a couple more of those horrid medicines, while merrily pocketing your hard-earned money.

Of course, the last nail on the coffin is that TOOMA is not even in the country, which is understandably making her fret more.

The only silver lining is her trip to the colorful city of Jaisalmer, scheduled on July 26.

But even that is a fortnight away.

Till then, let her use Graham Bell’s invention, and act the role of whiny woman to perfection….

Rainy days

Schools in the capital opened to grey clouds and rain pitter-pattering on the brick structures.

The children were only too happy to be the receiving end of the inclement weather, drawing up detailed plans of the fun they would have post-school (read playing in the slush, dancing on the roads with their satchels on their heads for cover, smiles plastered on their cherubic faces, sludgy football etc).

The three guard dogs who faithfully walk me from my house to the colony gate where my cab comes to pick me, were also in a particularly frisky mood. While they followed me at heel, the way they faithfully do on al weekdays, they stopped to see an interesting frog that went hoppity-hop into the nearby park. With cocked-up ears, the three black dogs eagerly dashed to give something to the frog to run about.

Face pressed against my cab window, I saw the rain droplets trickle down silently.

As silently as my tears that streamed invisibly across my cheeks, marking yet more days of his not being here…