Off the beaten track

Travel – the very word conjures images of never-before seen places, the sun beaming its rays on scenic landscapes, exotic food, a vast array of local eateries, a diverse crowd, currency notes of different denominations, and maybe the odd map.

Whatever it may be, and whether you choose a comfy Boeing, a humbler bus, or that perennial fixture – the rail - the excitement that builds up while making preps to set on a journey (and I mean purely one for pleasure), is unparalleled. Even my otherwise preferred pursuit of retail therapy takes a beating when it comes to travel.

Right from choosing the suitcase in which you stash your favourite faded jeans and orange-tee, to checking that your wallet has ample currency, to setting the alarm for the next day, to making arrangements for your stopover, to checking that you’ve included your phone charger / iPod / cam charger into your knapsack - is thrilling, to say the least.

So, when I change my pace tomorrow, and get out of the daily grind, and fly to be re-united with TOOMA, it sure is gonna be an exquisite, extended weekend.

Now if only I could get paid to travel. That would solve my wanderlust and ennui with one shot.

Are STA Travel and Isango listening?

NEW! Guns and Roses - Chinese Democracy

The wait is over.

15 years after their last album, the highly successful The Spaghetti Incident, Guns and Roses are all set to officially release their sixth studio album, Chinese Democracy. TOMORROW!

While the title track was released last month on the 22nd, the second single, Better, was released just seven days back.

Axl Rose, has never been in better form, they say.

I hope so.

He has had 15 years to cure himself of his stage-rage…

A Timeless Love

Yesterday, while walking down the corridors of Connaught Place, I saw a touching sight.

Two octogenarians were enjoying what clearly looked like a leisurely post-tea stroll.

Hand in hand, they looked the picture of love personified, the etched wrinkles only adding character to their time-worn faces.

The gentleman, attired in a shirt and loose trousers, had a small diary tucked neatly under his arm, while with the other hand, he gallantly held onto two colorful shawls, lest the evening decided to act nippy, in which case they could keep the chill at bay.

The lady, dressed gaily in a long, flowing violet-colored skirt and matching flip flops, clutched a small pouch, no doubt containing some currency.

A child, no more than 8, approached them, his arms covered with red rose buds.

As is their wont, he singled out the elderly couple, pulling at the lady’s skirt.

With a girlish laugh, she patted his head, and proceeded to make way with her husband.

The child was not to be that easily shaken-off.

Despite the lady’s vehement protests that they did not want to buy his roses, he looked like the sorts who refuse to hear ‘No’ for an answer.

And then he must have said something, because next I remember the lady tugging at her husband, who all this while, had an amused look on his vizened face.

A tender look replaced the amusement on his face, and the gentleman lovingly pushed back an errant strand of silver hair that had come out of the lady’s neatly coiffed hair.

Looking down at the child, he proceeded to grasp the posy of roses that was proffered to him; however, his wife shook her head and signaled ‘one.’

Much to the child’s diappointment, the elderly gentleman took one blood-red rose, and paid for it.

Off the child went to find his next customer.

All the attention of the gentleman now rested on his aldy love.

A gentle look on his face, he whispered something into his wife’s left ear – she blushed as prettily as a young bride, and still flushed with radiance, accepted the single rose he held out to her.

Mouthed a ‘Thank you,’ and with me still watching, she walked off, hand in hand, with the man she loved.

Who loved her back equally, if not more.

The sunset into which they walked, made a fitting background....

Looking for a mate for your mutt?

If you stay in New Delhi or planning to visit it this weekend, it could very well be a ‘knotty’ one for your canine.

In a first, the Ansal Plaza Business Center, which has been in the news recently for its plans to throw open its mall doors to pet dogs during non-peak hours, is organising a mutt-marriage tomorrow – Saturday, August 30.

The ‘ceremony,’ besides allowing pet owners to decide upon a suitable partner for their pets, will also feature fashion shows, and titles like ‘most lovable pet,’ ‘most photogenic pet,’ etc.

The four hour long event, can be registered for free, and will see the likes of pet marshals and vets, besides the regular police personnel, to ensure safety and security.

Promises to be lots of fun.

And if you are scoffing at the idea, maybe you should go eat your hat, as ninety pet owners have already registered for the event.

Quite a novel way to saw ‘Bow Vows,’ I must say.

I approve.

Wuff Wuff.

Birthday Bliss

BFF (Best Female Friend) gifted me a spa experience yesterday on my birthday

Oh boy! Was it invigorating!

The two hours that we spent there, slipped by wayyyyyy too soon, leaving us glaring at our watches and the clock that tick-tocked its existence on the wooden wall. The experience definitely 'clocked' its one-of-those-defining-moments-one though......

So after trotting into the visually appealing building, we were led to a tastefully done up reception area. BFF had done her homework, and after the friendly receptionist checked our appointment time, we were ushered into a subtly-lit room, our trademark heels having been traded for the more appropriate heavily-padded carpet slippers.

Lounge chairs were neatly arranged for us. After the two-minute foot cleansing and drying ritual, two lovely metal flat basins appeared as if by magic, full almost to the brim with water, rose and lotus petals floating lazily on the surface.

And when we dipped our feet into that water that was at just the right temperature, a delicious toe-curling moment it was. Sheer bliss…

What followed next is what would have made TOOMA* go into raptures.

We were led into another wood-paneled, wood-floored area where two comfy barcaloungers were spread invitingly for us. BFF and I needed no second bidding.

Ohhh heaven! No wonder Joey and Chandler (of F*R*I*E*N*D*S* fame) were so attached to their respective recliners. The barcaloungers spelled comfort with a Capital ‘C.’ I’m definitely getting one of those one day, but that is another story…

The foot massage started – all physical strain looked set to evaporate, what with the heady dose of massage, the smell of jasmine joss sticks wafting towards us, the soporific air conditioning (just right again), and the pleasing-to-the-ear Oriental instrumental music

After an hour of one of the most stress-relieving foot massages I had ever received, it was time to change and make our way to the massage room.

Shiatsu was what followed next – the traditional Japanese hands-on acupressure therapy cum massage. An indescribable sense of calm prevailed in the air, and BFF and I were almost lulled into sleep. Our two Oriental masseuse’s fingers deftly wove our pressure spots, releasing the strain within, and leaving in its trail a most exquisite feeling of serenity…

The hour passed too soon, and we were loath to open our eyes, and wake up after that…

However, wake up we had to, and had to also make our way outside, where it was raining pitter-patter…

Oh unfair world!

And damn those clocks and watches that make lovely hours like these pass so soon…

*TOOMA: The Object of My Affection

It's raining cats and dogs

The dusty green leaves looked faded, crying out for rain.


The cattle on the road sat listlessly, their tails flapping to ward off pesky flies.


People from all walks of life looked up expectantly at the clear skies, hoping against hope that the fluffy white clouds would pave the way for their grey counterparts.


Their prayers were answered sooner than they thought...


A single, fat drop fell from the skies. Disbelievingly, I brushed it off as probably a figment of my imagination. Maybe it was a droplet of perspiration that had trickled down from my forehead.


The drops soon increased, till they were falling in a constant drizzling. This was no imagination – the rains had actually arrived.


Thunder and lightning, not to be outdone, also decided to make their presence felt; so there were the customary flashes and rumbling in the skies, which had within minutes, changed from a beautiful blue to an even more gorgeous grey. The afternoon looked straight form the pages of an English novel, set in their famed bleak winters.

After about ten minutes of a heavy downpour, the rains decided to go in for a more consistent drizzle. The umbrellas were all out by now in all their multi-hued splendor. Animals scuttered for cover, cars being their favored shelter. While some preferred to walk in the rains jauntily, heads held high, getting drenched like Boy Scouts out on an adventure trail, there were also the ones who walked sedately, turning up their noses at those who splashed water with their boots. These were yet some others who hung on for dear life to their umbrellas that had decided to play the role of disobedient children to the T, eagerly bent upon flying away or turning inside out thanks to the gusts that lazily moved towards them.


The divine earthy smell, coupled with the sight of children playing slushy games on the road, made me almost pine for home, where the rain Gods particularly play favorite, and visit often, much to yours truly's delight.


This rain baby can’t wait to go home...


Thank God next weekend doesn’t seem that far!

A Spicy Treat

While on a shopping spree a couple of days back, I was suddenly aware of a lip-smacking smell that wafted dreamily towards my eager nostrils.

Turning my head to the right, I saw a bunch of people, drooling not over the red-lingeried mannequin in the display window over yonder, but over some square bits of potatoes frying merrily in a huge cauldron as also tikkis doing their round swimming dance in the “tava. It was the people who stood around the man dishing out gol-guppas however, who caught my eye.

And they couldn't be more dissimilar: the panting middle-aged lady clutching her sequinned bag, the preening pubescent staring at her perfectly manicured talons shining in all their scarlet splendor, the young woman dressed in office-attire who had stopped over for a tasty bite enroute home from a long day at work, the two giggling 20-year somethings pointing at a cute tourist’s shorts (don’t ask what they were pointing at – go figure), the doting boyfriend who looked upon with affection at his gurl who had stuffed her mouth with one huge gol-guppa, another guy who looked around awkwardly to see how many eyes were upon him as he shuffled his feet, while all the while fidgeting and looking at his gurl who seemed oblivious to his unease and instead concentrated on the task at hand – viz., popping one gol-guppa after another into her mouth. A couple of guy friends also seemed to be enjoying the sweet-sour savories, tissues ready in hand to wipe their streaming noses that were definitely on fire thanks to the spicy nature of “em gol-guppas.

And then two more prettily-smiling girls queued up to taste a few, right hands outstretched to hold the leaf-saucers the gol-guppa maker proffered them.

No points for guessing, one of them was me.

Five minutes later we made our way towards what we had essentially set out for – shopping.

The red-eyes gave us away.

As also our grinning faces and lip smacking with the flavor.

My verdict is out - Cancellation isn't all that bad a word

The word “cancelled” has acquired a new meaning altogether for me. A very pleasurable one at that, let me add. (Mandatory cheeky grin, and wink).

Imagine saying good bye to the one you love, with a heavy heart (although you are trying your best strong face). I should know. I bid adieu to TOOMA* like that every time he leaves the city. Leaves even generally stoic me with a heavy heart. And a face which is way longer than the river Nile. But a face which would leave no one in any doubt about the cheerfulness of the face-bearer. Talk about irony. Sigh...

But the very next moment, when your beau calls, albeit not to bid a fond farewell, but to inform you that his flight back has been cancelled, several emotions are bound to cross your mind.

As they did with me.

Happiness, an indescribable sense of relief, a grateful look at the sky above, a silent prayer of Thanks to He who looks after all of us and indulgently gives in to our whims on more occasions than we can count, delayed gratification (cos I get to see him not now, but within a couple of hours), an inordinate urge to clap in sheer delight, break out into a delirious jig, and a Cheshire cat grin – all of these, and a couple of others crept pleasantly into me. Leaving me warm all over, the feeling akin to sitting inside a toasted blanket, sipping a steaming caffeine-kicked cuppa, while it is freezing, and coldly unhospitable outside.

Christmas sure came early this year for me;-)

And then it all dawned upon me.

The realization that I could spend some more time with him, at the sight of whom my heart does its own sweet little Karaoke number, and with whom I would love to have all my dances with...

** Yay! Yay! Yay! ** (Mad, gleeful song and dance show on full display).

* TOOMA – The Object Of My Affection.

Music Video: Everywhere (Fleetwood Mac)

The ever dramatic soul I was (oops correction, that I still am), it was no surprise that I could often parrot-off prose and verse at various theater, extempore, and recitation dos at school. One poem, for which I received top honors, was The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes.

At that time, love was an unfamiliar concept to me, one that I was inclined to scoff at.

Many many years later, I came across a song by Fleetwood Mac, which was picturized on the very same poem.

Both featured a highwayman, heads over heels in love with Bess, the local inn landlord’s daughter, who also reciprocated his passion. One night, as was his wont, he bid adieu to his love, asking her to wait for him till the time he returned with some rich loot. A jealous suitor plays Peeping Tom on the two lovers, and crazed by his own love and envy, tips off the King’s soldiers about the highwayman’s impending return.

The soldiers promptly make their way to the landlord’s inn, drink his ale, and bind and gag Bess to her bed, a rifle tied below her chest. Bess had more matters to be fearful of than the stone-cold muzzle – through her window she could see the road that the highwayman would take, perhaps for the last time.

Twisting and writhing her hands, she was finally able to reach the trigger with one finger. In the dead of the night, the unmistakable sound of a horse's hooves announce her lover approaching her window.

With one fluid stroke she releases the trigger, shattering the peace of the night....

With her death, she gave life to her highwayman, who turned Westward Ho, but who, with the coming of dawn, learnt who it was who warned him with her death.

Morbid? Or achingly sweet?

You decide what the song means to you.

As for me, let me just say that love is not all that unfamiliar an emotion to me now.....

See the video below:

A Ride To Remember...

Duug Duug Duug Duug...

The roar of the mean machine is unmistakable, a distinctive chick magnet, guaranteed to garner that second glance.

And if you happen to be as lucky as me, to ride pillion behind the guy who makes your heart skip a beat, it would be one ride you’d not forget in a hurry.

So when TOOMA zipped to my doorstep on the shiny red mo’bike on his birthday, my heart went aflutter. After all, its not everyday that I get to act out one of my oft-repeated dreams...

I was akin to a delighted child, who had just been presented with a much-prayed-for present, and now that it was right in front, was unsure whether to:
a) Clap hands
b) Jump up and down
c) Give a whoooopeeee of pure, unadulterated glee
d) All the above

So I settled for a girlie hand over my mouth (lest my screams of ecstasy brought all the neighbors to see what all the fuss was all about), and hugged TOOMA more than my usual self.

After a complete five minutes - what with my staring at the beauty, and TOOMA's ciggie-marathon, it was time for the much-awaited ride.

I needed no second bidding.

Within a trice, I was sitting behind him. As soon as the engine started full throttle, I knew that the red beauty meant business.

Roaring like a roused tiger, it sprang into action, causing those on the road to make way for the royalty.

The wind in my hair, the warm sun shining on my face, a song in my heart, holding the guy I love, smelling his divine cologne - what more could a woman ask for.

Evening was even better. The cool evening wind did wonders for my cheeks – giving them a flushed, dewy-fresh, freshly-kissed, rouged look…

Would you blame me that I asked for a retry?

Vrooooooom! Till next month, my motto is:

I SHALT BE PATIENT...

Paula Abdul: Rush Rush (Music Video)

While I claim to be no fan of Paula Abdul, or Keanu Reeves, for that matter, I can’t help but like this song.

Released in 1991, the song features Paula Abdul, flagging off a drag race between a twenty-something, chocolate-faced Keanu Reeves and a local toughie. Dunno why, but each time I hear this song (and I have been known to listen to it more times than I can remember), an inordinate feeling of sadness and emptiness engulfs me, especially when Abdul and Reeves ask each other if they have been in love, and whether it is “terrible.”

Ironically, this song still features in my top five favorite songs of all times.

Strange, you’d say. But I guess that’s what I am. A bundle of contradictions.....

See the video here.

Birthday Bumps - Lars Ulrich

Co-founder of Metallica, and drummer unparalleled, Lars Ulrich, celebrates his birthday today.

Who would have thought that a budding tennis player, would trade-in his tennis racquet for Tama Drums…

Not that we are complaining;-)

Tennis’ loss is heavy metal’s gain.

So I’ll lissen to his amazing pounding in Enter Sandman yet again, and wish that he bangs many more birthdays.

Happy Birthday…

My cup of love goes to....

As you take that bending slope on your way to a hill station, taking pleasure in the wind puffing lightly on your face, you are inclined to let the accelerator slide.

It is then that you see that hoarding looking up at you authoritatively, compelling you to stop.

And stop you do.

You have to.

There’s no two ways about it.

That is N, at least for me.

His full-throated laughter was what first drew me to him.

I didn’t admit it to him then, but it was I who had asked someone to ask him to come and share a ciggie with us. Since I was too proud to go up to someone myself and ask to share a smoke.

(When I eventually made a clean breast, I heard no end from him, and had to contend with endless leg-pulling…)

An entire fortnight passed, and good sense didn’t prevail upon us to exchange numbers, and use Graham Bell’s invention.

When I look back, I go, “Gosh! Could it get any more lame than that?”

The smokes soon extended to exchanging mints, coffee dates, and the occasional beer.
The phone conversations grew longer in duration…

My scowls would give way to sunny Cheshire cat grins when I would hear his reassuring voice (which I must admit, sounds downright hot as hell in the mornings).

Eat your hearts out – his number aint coming your way. Anytime soon.

Ok, make that, Never!

Add chocolate brown liquid eyes, an absolutely mischievous grin, and you get the complete picture, right?

Ohh, and I forgot to mention that he always smells divine (blame that potent bottle of Polo for that)…

I’ve re-christened him time and again. He’s countered, and my monikers have ranged from rustic Rajasthani ones, to the occasional eye-popping Haryanvis, to the positively funny Bihari ones.

He’s gallantly fed me forkfuls between his own bites, held doors (and my heart) for me.

The most mundane of topics become super-interesting when I’m discussing them with him.

Though some (especially the kinds where two girl-colleges are pitted with each other) can lead to sour tempers and tongues…

His jokes are like double-edges swords – while they can usually make you go into hoots of hysterical laughter, every now and then, they can also make you want to pull out all your hair.

And ohhh, the times I’ve goofed up with him.

I remember how on one occasion, I thought that the mole a lil above his eyebrows was some black mark, and I tried to scratch it off, much to his bewilderment, and later visible vexation.

I’ve driven him up the wall on more occasions that I would want to recall, on account of my atrocious memory. I marvel at his patience, and when I do marvel too much, that is the time he decides to alternate between sighing resignation and a slight outburst.

I’ve also done my bit in driving him crazy with my incessant questions-popping, a habit, I am happy to say, I am not gonna nurture.

A self-confessed lover of Yo-China, he is also not averse to his share of popcorn and Corona.

Playing pool with his best bud is a highlight for him; almost as much as it is for me to look longingly at the calendar and count the days till he touches home-turf.

Quite the Nostradamus, he has the uncanny ability to analyze any situation at hand, cut through the mire to its very essence, and give me a candid bird’s eye view and the future prospects of any situ. However, me, the mule that I frequently am, gleefully refuse to lissen to him then.

But the next day or week, with red face smarting, I have to bite my lower lip and come clean that his verdict / solution was the one that mattered, held true, and was the best one.

Eat crow is what I do then. Humbly...

I like the ease with which he connects with all – though he hardly calls himself congenial / affable, I’d like to think he is.

I also admire the way he can set the ball rolling, and bring any situ towards its intended accomplishment.

I think of myself as lackadaisical sometimes; he galvanizes me snap into action on account of his infectious commitment and passion that he displays and which goes into whatever he chooses to do at that moment.

What I need to learn from him is his ability to not get affected or changed by the obvious inconsistency or frivolous judgment of others. (He’s still light years ahead of me, and I have SOME catching up to do…)

I take pride in the way he races on the tracks even when the last spectator has left and the last light has been dimmed because he keeps personal scorecards and the race isn’t over till his heart says so.

What I like a lot about him is that he never convinces anyone that he is right – that is probably the most miserable way to start a discussion. Consensus is not the end, conciliation is.

Even if I try to do the occasional Houdini, he uncannily figures the state of my mind.

He’s crooned numerous karaokes – be it in his car, or a watering hole; joined quite a few times by me. The reluctant singer, who is fast blossoming :)

I took it to another level altogether, going live on a popular radio channel, dedicating the over-one-hour show to him.

I’m not sure what feelings he went through at that point of time, but I’m guessing, they were any / or all of these: surprise, bashfulness, embarrassment, amusement, and maybe the odd touched feeling….

The tea that he makes is one of the most divine I have ever tasted – and it is not an acquired taste – it is absolutely flavorsome. The flavor remains the same, however many times he may make it, much to my wonder, and his amusement…

My very own Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung rolled into one, he gives me some of the most soul-baring, and bang-on advice.

We have laughed over inane jokes, read each others’ horoscopes, pulled each others’ legs randomly, played assorted (cartoon) games online (at which he always comes sunny side up, however hard I try). But I’m not complaining – I give in to him with a goofy-look-plastered-all-over-my-face.

Coffee is not just a beverage for me when I am with it – it’s a bond…

His rendition of Joey (of F*R*I*E*N*D*S fame) will dispel the clouds for you, even on the most murky of days.

When I rest my head on his shoulders, all my fretting peter out..….

Lastly, there is something about the way he can hold a cigarette, and speak with you earnestly.

Bowling you over.

I should know...(sheepish grin).

They say, smoking is injurious.

In my case, it was positively of assistance - it introduced me to the guy whom I love to distraction……