My First Impromptu Concert Trip

It all started with a facebook post. I don’t remember who posted it, all I could see was Anathema was coming to India. I jumped out of the seat, muttering to myself “How the hell am I going to get to Chennai this Saturday?” This was last Tuesday. I had no money, a project that just started and most of all no company. But I had to do this, I had to see Anathema. It became the Holy Grail that was almost discernible at that moment.

I told the analyst that I would get back to the job in some time and then got to “work”. I started calling everyone I know in Chennai and all could get “Sorry. No can do, never heard of the band”. I was the least bit perturbed. I would go there even if it meant I would be the alone standing next to the mosh-pit. There are few things in my life that I get excited about and this was one of them.

The band sort of symbolizes my life in Chennai. Every time I listen to lost control, I get transported to those unruly roads of Tambaram that I used to walk on with my iPod on full volume. It reminds me of those days way back in 2008 where I shut myself in my room for almost three months. It was those 90 days of solitude with their music, my only companion. Even now, whenever I listened to “A natural disaster” it felt like that she was talking to me.

And here I was in Mumbai almost four years later, in a somewhat better state of mind but I could never forget those days. And that was enough for me. I planned this trip within half hour. I booked my flight-tickets without even knowing where I would crash. If nothing worked out, I was ready to dish out and stay in a hotel. But they did work out eventually; KK was ready to join me even though she never heard the band before.

By Tuesday evening I had everything in place. PP and K thought I lost it and they swore this was not about the band but I was scheming about something. But I dint care. I dint give them an explanation. I told my manager that I had a personal emergency and had to leave for the weekend. I had the reason all planned out, if they ask I am going to meet a prospective groom (now, no one can say no to that!).

Saturday morning I landed in Chennai airport at 8 AM with my backpack in tow waiting for KK to pick me up. Chennai surprises me every time. It’s like watching your favorite movie for the nth time and savoring it. It creeps up on you like a kind of harmony that settles your mind. 

I go to KK’s place where she lives with her parents. It felt like I was back home with the newspapers, inane gult news channels running in the background. Her mom couldn't stop feeding me. She saw me once and decided I had become thin (!) and started serving me extras. I had the best home cooked gult lunch after a long time.

We took off after lunch on her bike, two chicks with the worst directional sense and a Google maps app. We did get stopped by the cops at which point we got all the bike related paraphernalia and shoved into their hands. I even gave them the pollution check receipts for the last two years. They took one look us then and let us go with a smirk on his face.

We reached IITM around 3 and got to GCC after taking to customary bus from the entrance. The campus never changes but all of sudden I felt so old. It felt like an old maid at a frat party. I couldn't get out of there faster. We got our tickets and started our Chennai Darshan. I had to do a customary visit to all my favorite haunts in the city before getting back to the concert. We started off with Adyar, Besant Nagar Beach, Pondy Bazaar and ended up at Bikes. At least Bikes was just like I remembered, they still had the same bartenders and they still made awful cocktails but I was home.  Here’s where I did my best work when I was in Chennai, some of those tidbits included being hit on by some stranger in front of the loo, crying like a banshee in front of a wedding party and getting thrown out by the bouncer to name a few.



Quintessential Chennai(Check out the masks :D)

Empty Carousal at Besant Nagar

 

After paying homage to my old life, we started back to IITM only to get stuck in quintessential Chennai traffic. It was already 6 30 PM and the band was supposed to start at 7. We rushed to the campus only to hear the distant sounds of guitar. I was heartbroken. This could only happen to me, who would do such a stupid thing like getting drunk and forgetting about the sad state of Chennai roads when you have an important appointment. But I did not give up, we ran from the parking lot to the bus stop and got into a running bus, rushed out of it as soon as it stopped and started our marathon running to the VIP gate which for some insane reason is at some hidden corner. We finally reach the gate and I could almost see the band, they sounded a little different but then I thought they were playing their newer albums. I was ready to jump the guards and get in.

But, as usual things only got worse. We forgot about IITM’s crazy rules during concerts. Handbags were not allowed. So, there I was 20 ft. from the stage and yet so far. I tried my best ditzy blonde impression but it dint help even a bit, damn you IIT nerds. I had to get rid of my handbag. One of them suggested that we use the students’ lockers on the other side of campus. So, we took off again running only to be led to the freaking parking lot.

So there I was listening to the drums in the parking lot clutching my exclusive fan pass. But as luck had it (or may not as you would soon find out) we found another bunch of chicks, who were also trying to dump their belonging but they had a car. So, I begged them to stash our stuff, exchanged phone number and then took off again back to the stage.

By the time I reached the OAT I was breathless, my legs were killing me and I was coughing like a 20 year old chain smoker. I couldn't even stand, but I went through and found my place in front of the stage only to see an Indian kid playing the guitar. It took me almost a minute to realize that the guy performing were the cover band. I couldn’t believe it! I took all this trouble to find out that the actual band has not even started playing. I understood then why the bag-chicks were sauntering along the road while we were running like regular Milka Singhs.

The freaking cover band wouldn't stop singing and I was getting rather testy. I don’t want to listen to some random Indian band. I dint come all the way to freaking IIT to listen to some garage band trying to growl their way to their 5^th number. So, I thought I would freshen up in the meanwhile. I found the water cooler right outside the stage. I gulped down three glasses of water when I noticed some Firang guy standing next to me. I couldn’t see him properly so I thought it was some exchange student. I turned around I found myself at Vincent Cavanagh!! I couldn't speak. I was dumb stuck. I stood there squeaking like a duck trying to get my voice to work. And then he walked off. So, there I was with a chance of actually talking to THE guy and all I did was gape. But that was enough for me, all the running, the aching legs the parched throat, who cares. I actually stood next to him (!)

After making the crowd wait for almost an hour the band finally started playing and there I was standing right in front of the stage. I couldn't believe that I was actually looking at the band because I never had a chance to actually stand near the railings. I could actually see their expressions. I could hear them speak to each other (without the mikes!). This was soon becoming my favorite concert. I stood there with my mind blank, listening to the lyrics and without my volition I started crying (silent tears). It was so overwhelmingly real. I stood there for the next two hours, singing along and just dazed for the next two hours. At one point, the kids next to me said “Akka ki patalu vachu ra”(gult translation, sister knows all the songs da, it was so funny!) It ended so abruptly that it took me a while to get back to normalcy. I was high on music and I dint want to think of practical things like going home. I just wanted to stand there for a while soak it all in.

That's my hair BTW

Sadly, reality beckoned and I had to go back to KK’s place before 12 which was the time of her curfew. So, we set out to find out bag-chicks who had conveniently put their phone on silent.  We called them for almost 15 minutes before they picked up only to tell us that they were grabbing dinner and would be back in some time. So, there we were slowing getting back to reality where we might not be able to find our bags which had all the money, bike keys, cards which mean we dint have anything on us other than our soon be battery-drained phones.  We waited there for almost an hour before they turned up, which only made KK lose it. She drove back home like a crazy bike driver that my hands wouldn't unclench even after I got back to her place.

In the end it would be one of those memories that I would cherish, this would be the day that I almost spoke to Vincent Cavanagh.

My First Road-trip

I have always dreamed about going on a road-trip, crisscrossing the country-side and eating at those buttered-up dhabas along the way like they do in Highway on the plate. I had a very romantic view of the whole thing, which in itself means nothing because I tend to romanticize everything and end up doing things because they sounded good in my head (Like, surprising my grandma for Diwali which in itself was a great idea but to get that thing done: I had to stand in line for a tatkal ticket with 10 policewomen pushing and shoving me the whole time, which I finally did not even manage to get and then had to travel in sleeper compartment which had me and this whole drama troupe as passengers. I was up all night listening to off-key renditions of 90s flop Hindi film numbers with which they were trying to impress some nubile females. It was totally worth it for that one minute of complete surprise on my grandma's face) Anyways that was my roundabout way of saying that things that I envisage to be these awesome events mostly end up in a disappointment, like the much anticipated Goa trip a while ago.

I don’t know how this whole idea of going out and celebrating birthdays started off but I am sure as hell happy, I got two awesome vacations out of it and mostly probably a third. This time around we had to plan something nearby because it was just a three day thing and also we wanted to drive down.  Like I said a totally view through rose-tinted glasses notion after watching the movie “On the road”; but I was sold. I had enough of beaches I wanted my cozy winter haven vacation.

I reached there at 6 in the morning on Saturday (I was a day late because I got held up in office, as you know my job is super important to me; read I am my director’s bitch and totally wussed out when I had an chance to ask her about my leave) and was welcomed with an almost burned out bonfire and the remnants of the drinks and food from the night before. I sat in front of the barely there fire to watch the sun rise and breathe in the mountain air while kicking myself ten times to Sunday for being such a chicken and not getting there on time.

I miss winters, I love the feel of the warm blankets and the utter laziness that seeps into you (not that I need any more of that) and makes you want into dig in deeper into your bed and just sleep your way through the day between same warm drinks. At that moment all I wanted to do was go to a cozy lodge somewhere near Naukuiatal and spend the whole month holed in it. I almost fell asleep right there before my friend dragged me inside and plunked me on a futon.

We were staying in a swiss tent which was a good ten minute walk from the hotel, absolutely no one around us except for this quaint waterfall/swimming pool behind our room and a view to die for in the front. The pool was perfect for a morning dip. We were lounging about for almost an hour before we realized we missed breakfast. But, my friends had other ideas, activities to be done but thankfully they dint pick up something too hectic, Spa was better than trekking. So, I was pushed into a Shirodhara which btw I should point out is divine. All I wanted to do was go back to my room and sleep off which I did for the next three hours.

Coming to the road-trip part, I did not like one bit because: it was hot and grimy and my back was aching from sitting still for so long. It’s very sad to find out that I am not a road trip person. But it did have it moments when we were singing “My Girl” on top of our voices or when we were tripping on those insanely stupid bill boards along the road. 

I guess this was as good time as any for a vacation with all the year-end blues creeping in; at least it will help hold back yet another year of status quo. I guess I did get a good deal out of the whole thing.

Few clicks that I liked from the lot (which arent many because I messed up my camera settings :()

My Exorcism

That’s what my friends are calling it, the exorcism of PC. The prequel to this horror story started in June, when my grandmother went to my family pundit who suggested that before looking for “suitable boys”, I had to get this pooja done. I found out about this little nugget later, much later.  My mother dearest informed me that it was grandfather’s last wish that I do this one thing. I don’t believe in all this hoopla, but she had the “ace”, I can’t say no to her when she uses my granddad’s name in vain. So, I bucked-up and booked tickets for a three day ritual after many months of negotiating.

I had no idea as to what was going to happen. My brother went through the a similar ritual before going to the US, so I assumed it would be a cake walk, go to the temple, sit for half hour and come back home. Little did I know the deviousness of it all. As soon as I landed my mom listed down the do’s and don’ts during my stay.  Here’s the list:

• No stepping outside the house other than to the temple
• Head bath at 6 in the morning when it was freezing cold outside (repeat for 3 days)
• No sleeping on the bed ergo sleep on the hard floor (sleeping on sofas also included in the don’t list, crushing my only hope of beating the system)
• No pillows!
• No eating/drinking/even-thinking about outside food (thank god for my grandmas arisalu which were technically made inside “her” house so were eligible for yours truly’s can-eat list)   
• No visiting of places that were forbidden (I did not get the list of said places, so I was wildly speculating at this point but apparently the list is quite sedate, places include pregnancy wards(!) et al)
• No NV food on a weekend at home (I actually got my mother to make her famous biryani the night before so at least I got one thing covered, seriously! What’s the point of coming home when you had to eat the same dal for three days)

I was little miss naive when I went to the pooja on the first day till the guy made me repeat a sloka which can be literally translated to me begging god for a suitable boy every five minutes. FTW! I was conned by my own parents! I couldn't obviously cry wolf and walk out, so there I sat like a nice gult girl with bangles, bindi, dupatta and other accouterments praying for a suitable boy for the next two hours. I did get my frustration out as soon as we walked out of the temple. I did the silent treatment, a lot of yelling, back to silent treatment; none of them worked though. My mother was unflappable. I have never seen her so excited about anything, she was just waiting for the ritual to get over so that she can start planning my demise (at that moment I could actually picture her evil gleeful laugh!) Anyhoo, I gave up and got my kindle out (thank you yet again amazon, for saving my life’s myriad problems by denial yet again). This went on: me reading my kindle, my mother’s planning and my father’s nonchalant agreement to whatever my mother says for two days.

The final day was the big purge, the Homa. We reach there early where I was made to recite that godforsaken sloka n number of times after which we sat around the consecrated fire at which point my on-again-off-again dust allergy started acting up. For the next two hours I was competing with the pandit’s chants with my mellifluous sneezes. I guess all the evil things in me got out of my nose by the end of the process. My mother was fuming at me the whole time; it was either look at her or the burning pyre, I took the easy way out, pyre it was. The torture did not end there if you think this is enough, after the horrific two hour snezathon, I had to listen to the pandit’s gyaan session where he mistook me for my cousin and went into Dr. Phil marriage counseling mode (couldn't blame him though with all the ghee fumes around, it can happen, trust me on this one). So, there I was literally crying because my nose won’t stop watering and my ears were ready to burst listening to “7 ways to keep your husband in your pallu”, “In-laws and You, Feel the Fear” and other such endearing topics. 

And after being through all of this you would expect some sort of effect right, not in the obvious department. My mother actually appeased for a minute and made the pandit include “advancement in career” also in the prayers. So, I come back Monday morning, ready for my not-so-busy office life and wham I am hit with so much work I don’t think I am going to see the light of day for the next two weeks.

Totally worked. NOT

My Beach Bum Vacation

Waldeinsamkeit. Go on, try and pronounce it. It sounds like something scientific, but this strange word is a beautiful idea, it means “the feeling of being alone in the woods”. As I was reading about it, I knew that this is what I have experienced for those three days in Gokarna. It’s the feeling of temporary suspension from my life, where the only thing that is real is the distant rumble of the sea. 

I will remember those moments when I was travelling in the train cramped between friends, where I was moving from one city to another waiting for the next destination.  There was an utter sense of awe at 6 in the morning when we are on top of the hill overlooking the islands across the sea, watching the morning sun rise. The more I think about the trip, the more I tend to romanticize it. I seem to forget the problems and those fights in between.  It’s felt like a small piece of the world where we are utterly alone. 

The thing about vacations is that the better it is the worse the fall out after it gets over.  I did not expect this last one to be this good. I had not even planned it properly. One drunken night, P, S and I were talking about taking a break and then I went home and booked tickets in a frenzy. Next thing I know, I have all my bags packed and heading to the beach. I did have lot of information printed out just in case things go haywire. Gokarna, never did I imagine that this place would make me want to be a beach bum for life. It’s a small village 2 hours south of Goa for those who dint know where this is. 

We took a direct train from Mumbai which in itself was exciting thanks to all the junk train food we bought from every single station. And to top with all-you-can-eat-train-food-fest we had the most interesting conversation with an Italian tourist. He was on his way to Gokarna and every time he said the name of the town there was a glimmer in his eyes. He couldn’t stop gesturing about how good the place was. He kept talking giving us insights about his travels and went on to give some advice as to which European country men should we marry in case we decided to (Italians obviously, closely followed by the Spanish, Germans and French were a huge no-no :)). He was coming from a two month tour of Spain, which started off the long debate of which cities to cover on our next never-going-happen Eurotrip. We have almost finalized our pit stops in Spain and Italy :)

We landed in Gokarna at around 5 30 in the morning and for the first time in our lives all three of us were up without the poking and prodding from the others. We got down and got ourselves a shared cab with some Germans. It looked like we have been transported back to the 70s with hippy looking crowd everywhere you see, dog-eared books in their hands, hobbling big backpacks around slowly while smoking incessantly. It was perfect! It felt unreal, the peace and quiet, took me a while to get used to not hearing the traffic noises.

For 800 bucks we got ourselves a private cottage(!) which was a bit more insect friendly than we realized, so we ran across to get an upgrade. Sharing the bathroom with snails is a deal breaker. With the promise of a better room, we marched with our heavy cameras and beachwear to the restaurant/ shack. The food was just perfect, the banana pancakes, king fish, calamari, tiger prawns (Okay, me stopping now, I am hungry just thinking about the food). The waiter became our best friend there. He knew we were the high rollers(!) ordering everything on the menu. By the end of the vacation he even got the reserved sign just for us J

I have never felt so at peace during any vacation, it’s like being on an island where you cannot think about the mundane problems of your life. All I did during the three days was just go into the water and float away for as long as I felt like and then laze around on the beach and read. It’s the perfect way to spend a weekend, or a week or maybe a month. I have this crazy plan of going there again for Diwali for 10 days. Me and my Kindle on a journey to be the perfect beach bum.

In between all that I did do a lot of picture taking which was different from the last few vacations because I have P who in her new-relationshippy mode wants to immortalize all her outfits by sending them all the way across the Atlantic for some appreciation. At one point I had two DSLRs on me and shouting orders to pose properly. It was fun though, I realized I am not that bad at people photography :)

I have never had a vacation where I was totally relaxed, there was something or the other on the back of my mind niggling away the sense of peace, but here it was just calm. No thoughts, no over-analyzing things. It was refreshing. But with all the lazing around the beach I look like a black person with really bad tan lines. Totally worth it though :)

Few clicks:

My Dubai Tryst

I am back to rainy Mumbai after a long vacation in Dubai. Yeah, I know that’s not a vacationy city but I had a place to stay and a car at my disposal so I am not complaining. I love vacations especially long ones where I have no agenda whatsoever. It’s nice to be in a place where no one else knows you, no one has any expectations. It’s a reprieve and boy did it help clear all the cob-webs in my head.

The planning for this trip started a year ago when my dear friend, let’s call her rose-tinted-glasses, moved to Dubai. She was adamant that I come visit her. After many-a failed plan from my side, she took things into her hands and booked my ticket. It did me good though, perfect timing for the trip to get out of the country. RTG is my only friend during those dreaded two years of IIT prep where we were the only two girls who made it through. So, it’s sort of a relationship which we never questioned.  We made a pact back then that we would meet once a year wherever we may be. It took me exactly 8 years to do that :) who says I am lazy :D

I dint have a clue as to what I would be doing the 10 days I was there mainly because RTG is an aggressive planner. The last time we went on a trip to Pondicherry I got the itinerary for three days in my mail which included exactly 15 mins for lunch and dinner in between all the sightseeing, so I knew I had nothing to worry about. The night I landed in Dubai, she got her white board out and a bunch of tourist brochures and made a time-table for my touristy thing. I dint know whether to laugh or cry but I did use that board during the 10 days as my day planner, so I guess I can’t complain meticulous planning.

So, let’s see the things I loved about the city:                       

The clean, clean roads, city lights and high rises, it looks like a sci-fi movie about a futuristic city. And, let’s not forget the metro; I think the architects did a marathon Alien movie run before designing them.

The malls, OMG the malls; I went crazy, RTG dint know what to do. She had to warn her friends beforehand if I was going out with them, it was that bad. But I did buy enough shoes to last me a year, half my bag on my way back was filled with shoes.

Being in the middle of the desert at 5 in the morning without a soul for miles, the quiet is so eerie but so peaceful. You can just sit in the sand and draw circles and just be.

The food, I literally went crazy and RTG dint stop me on this even though she is a born again vegetarian (if there is something like that), I dragged her to any and every restaurant that I read about in the guides.

The gold souk, man I never thought I would go glaze eyed looking at all those baubles but I sure as hell was slobbering in front of those windows. I did finally buy something, well that was the reason I gave my parents for this trips so I have to cover my tracks.

The boat cruises along the marina are a treat for the eyes. I couldn’t take my eyes of all the lights. It was so pretty. I know they are just buildings but I couldn’t stop clicking my camera.

The beaches, especially during the night, I was out in the water till 2 in the night with the cool wind blowing. I just sat there just feeling the waves crashing against me with the water changing colors because of all the city lights glittering. Bliss.

It was a great trip, a bit of shopping, a whole lotta gossiping, lots of walking. All in all what I just needed. So, I am making a new resolution now, one country a year that’s it!

My Hyd Touristy Trip

I am local hyderabadi but have never been to Golkonda till date. I know, that's is just too unpatriotic. Hence, the much delayed trip to one of the best sites for all those shady gult second half scenes of super acrobatic fights and really bad dialogue. One thing I forgot: a good pair of walking shoes. Perfect way to spend a weekend if you are dressed appropriately for a trekking expedition which I was not. By the time I reached the top I was breathless and begging for some sugar high :)

Random trivia: Did you guys know that people vandalize these places with tripods! Seriously what can a person do with a tripod?!! 

My Escapist Life

I was stuck in the elevator (literally) for the last one hour. No, it was not like one of those M&Bs or some of those lame-ass thriller/horror movies. I thought I should be scared, it mas making weird noises and there was no power, but I was not. I was laughing. I couldn't stop laughing. The only two other people stuck were looking at me thinking that I have lost it but it was like I sniffed something before getting in.

I think I have become very good at denying reality. I can pick and choose the things that I want to think about or talk about; compartmentalizing is the answer to all questions. I am trying to re-imagine things as dreams: the kind you wake up from, shake off, disregard; not the kind you journal, analyze, relay relentlessly to bored friends. I remember stuff as the way I remember characters from books that I haven’t read in a while; fondly but vaguely and all smudged, round the edges.

I have my hobbies to get my mind off things. I have bought books by large reams (Ohh you should have seen me in the train on my way from Vashi with more than 10 books in my bag holding it like it was my precious. Second hand book store! be still my heart). I use my credit card like its nobody else’s business. I have ordered random books one late night after a long dinner which involved two bottles of wine and some gimlets. I keep getting books delivered to my desk its actually disconcerting when you dont know which book you have actually ordered and when.

I drag my huge ass camera and go to sea face trying to take portraits of kids running around with those huge smiles plastered on their face. It reminds me of those days when I was a five-year-old on a beach somewhere collecting shells and digging moats, the days where life was simpler where the most I had to think was my evil plan of getting a rupee from my mom to buy an ice cream on the beach. I build another reality around me, like the land of faeries in True Blood (if you dint get the reference, it’s okay you guys are the 99% :D).

Then I have my series where I am so invested in them that I want to talk in monologues about them almost all the time. I became the evangelist marketer for Newsroom, forced K to watch all three episodes (which she did like). GoT was over and I dint even realize it. I was waiting for the 11th episode for the last two weeks, hoping against hope that this time they will have more! I keep listening to podcasts and when these guys talk about the totally obscure movie that I know about, I feel ecstatic thinking that there is this one other person whom I can relate to.

But sometimes, just sometimes there are these stray thoughts about what I am actually doing with my life creep in. But as soon as they do I am literally and figuratively running in the other direction clutching to my dear life. I like my life without its meaningful existence, being the ultimate consumer, conforming to a societal norm of the young and disillusioned. It’s as good as playing a role in those MMORPGs.

I guess you can call me an escapist. You can ask how someone can so callously and categorically kill time and live a vapid existence. All I can hear is the commotion in a noisy bar because I am almost a mile ahead of you running for my life.