Flying high...or low ??

You smile, you glow you are fastidious about every single detail, you wear a comfortable yet stylish outfit, make sure that everything is in order, reach the airport early while your entire family comes down to see you off and your mom repeating 1000th time to call her - Yes..! that's how it is pretty much if you are flying abroad for the first time all by yourself, and I was no exception to this. My mom's instructions have taken in the forms of telephone messages, e mails, through Dad, brother, friends etc etc etc. My dad was glued to the internet through out the week checking every detail in London and instructing me on everything, especially the weight issue for  my baggage. I was super excited as it was my first journey abroad accompanied by a friend (Geetanjali), where we were going for a 3 week summer school at the University of Exeter, fully funded by our institute in India. How better it can be! From London I was to travel to Stockholm for a week to see my cousin, and finally to return after a month. Nervousness coupled with anxiety, we both reached Bangalore International Airport at the crack of dawn, giggling and bustling with energy. Yes, it was happening. Facebook was there through out (common, it's a must). Everything was going pretty well until I was about to board my Air India AI 111 from Delhi to London. Nothing can't go perfectly right, after all. We were quite enthralled by the look of the Delhi International Airport and all those duty free shops. Even the immigration officers were so cute, to wish us happy journey, and was done super quickly. Our flight was at 2:30 pm and around 2 pm we were called to get ready. We called up our friends, parents and told them that we were boarding. My mother again or the 2000th times told me what to do and what not to, but I realized that even that was not irritating anymore. Common, I am off to London, all by myself and all those off shoulder and mini dresses will surely see the days sunlight. I was loving it. But then I saw him...yes! The devil in the paradise. The person I am talking about was an air stewart in the flight and he was standing right in front of my seat. They are suppose to smile, always. That's what they are paid for. No matter what happens, their Colgate brushed teeth should always be out. But god has some other wishes, and I was not to experience his gallant smile - reason known to him only. After taking my seat I asked him for a glass of water, but the look that he gave me as if I asked for a glass of Ganga jal, and I shall be hanged till death. By the way, I received that water after some one hour in the flight. My irritation was already boiling. But however my co - passenger who happens to be a blonde babe, did not have the privileged to receive the same kind of treatment at all. People, I am not passing any judgement yet...but just saying! She was graciously welcomed with a big grin and was escorted to her seat. Oh ! All these drama was happening in the economic section (honestly, business class??...in my dreams).
                God, I hate this guy soooo much, I shall probably punch him if I see him any day. I remember his face, like I would remember Sharukh Khan. Since I obviously don't remember his name, lets just call him 'DEEP SHIT.' Anyways, there is more to go. So, the flight took off, and I was super happy and excited. Like a kid, I kept on looking through the windows, hoping to enjoy my coming 7 hrs more. The main problem started when after quite sometime, Mr. Deep shit and his friends came to serve us drinks. I, with a sweet smile, asked him for vodka, in which again he reacted as if, I asked him to climb up the Everest in just one go. I clearly told him...one vodka with orange juice and a glass of water. And given that I am blessed with quite a loud voice, I do not think there was any chance of mistake. He gave me a blank stare, behaved as if he din't hear the vodka part and just gave me a glass of ice chilled water. I waited for a 2 secs and asked for my drink. He again gave me a deaf ear, in which case I had to tug his shirt and ask him again, after which my majesty graced me with a small bottle of Finlandia. I was relieved for sometime at least, but irritated to the brim. I started to enjoy my drink with The Dirty Picture in front of me, only to realize that the orange juice that he gave wasn't enough. I pinged, and as my luck would say, he arrived, with a boring look, and I dare ask him for my juice and the answer he gave me was quite interesting. He said, "but the cart at the end of the plane.." I was dumbstruck. You know, sometimes in life you come to those situations, where you don't know whether to be angry or just amused. It was one of them. I simply din't know what to say. Should I just say, oopss I am so so sorry, that I asked for a glass of orange juice or oh my majesty, I apologize for my behavior, or should I just say, just get me my fucking orange juice. I chose none of the above, and i guessed that was my mistake. I just said, I would appreciate if you could just get me that. He did not. Actually he chose not to. Aren't they given job to serve the passenger no matter what? Am I asking for something which is like a huge deal or was the plane too long enough for him to walk? Mind it, I am still not judgmental.
                     My patience lost in the last minute. Out of the thousand instructions that my father has given me, one of them being that if I am hungry in the plane, if I ask for an extra platter they generally serve you, in most cases. My father has wide experiences in traveling abroad, so this piece of instruction was obviously genuine. The lunch or whatever that was given was so small, that it would not have served a child also, and I was super hungry, in which case I dared again to ask for another platter. For that I had to call him 6 times, which was unanswered and then I had to seek my friend's help. She called the guy for another 3 times, looked at us and as rude as possible. Probably he wanted to say, "you hungry Indians, there are no food to feed," but obviously he omitted the former and simply said, in the rudest way possible that we won't be getting any more food whatsoever. But how surprisingly, his smile came back when an Indian British asked for some fruits, in which case his smile came back, and with all the manners she was given a platter of fruits. As if this wasn't enough, my screen was not working properly, I asked one of the 'pammi ki mummy,' I mean the air hostesses (you understand that if you have traveled in Air India), to help me, where she was as irritated as possible, only to tell me to fix it by myself. I was scared even to ask for a tissue paper and the rest o the journey I chose to sleep only.
                       I don't know whether all of you who have traveled in Air India, will agree with me but this what I went through. There was just this one punjabi fellow, who was mild and welcoming, but otherwise each of the flight attendants behaved as if it was our fault that we chose to fly with them. Even now I do not want to pass on any judgement or say that Air India is bad, but this was something which was not expected. My fault was that I kept mum. I should have said, but I just did not want to spoil my journey as there were far more better things waiting for me. I do not remember this guy's name neither the aunty's, but I surely remember their faces. The problem is that we talk about discrimination from the outsiders, but in my case it was the very Indians who were discriminating the Indian passengers from the rest. May be the others who were traveling in that flight, had a wonderful time, but I did not. Being so hot headed, I simply mumbled some galis, but as my father later said, I should have spoken up. May be each of them had different stories and each had different tensions, but this was their job, and they were not being asked to do something different. Government jobs twists  everybody's mind. They think them to be from some different world. Be that as it may. My request is not to encourage these types of behavior at any cost. They are not the worth. I would still say Air India was magnificent to travel. Their seats and movie selections are the best.While coming back I had a wonderful time, both in terms of services and timings. Do travel through Air India, but don't let yourself to be humiliated.        

Films that touch your Heart, Part I....(BARAKA, 1992)

So what do you expect when you go to a theater to watch a film? Do you expect to laugh or get enamored, get stupefied or just simply to see your favorite star right in front of you and wished if you could take him home? Or may be it is just for relaxing - relaxing at the cost of 1500 Rs (at least), and gladly most of us can afford it. In the multiplexes different show timings allow you to witness different types of people - the night show generally is patronized by people with expensive cars and cell phones with 'cheap - looking' ( but they are anything but cheap) clothes, and trying to project the idea of how difficult it is for them to relax, but to come to a movie theater, spend some money, look cool, allowing the entire audience know that they have a mobile phone (it will evidently ring during the movie) and showing off the world their act of 'cleanliness', by feeding even the floor their popcorn and paper napkins. The scene sort of changes in the evening and the afternoon shows (sorry you can't use the term matinee show anymore, thats so psss !!), you get to see a mixture of younger and elderly crowds - the former coming into just to enjoy some quite moment with their loved ones, as in India we lack the concept of lovers point, and probably also because the RSS people will commit suicide by sheer depression, and we definitely can't risk that or may be just to hangout (films are not the priority), while the latter simply to enjoy an afternoon, see how much the world has changed since their times, and purges their lips, when they see a couple holding hands. I have seen this increasingly in Kolkata, where this specific lot comes only to watch an Aparna Sen or Rituparno Ghosh film, and shall be the connoisseur of Bengali culture. How would you identify them? Well, they shall mostly have short feather-cut white hair or long hair neatly tied up in a bun, very classy glasses, junk jewelry, clad in fabulous Fab India sarees or kurta pyjama, and very efficiently surfing their latest kind of mobile phones. They will hate if you even whisper during the movie, as if, if one word is missed they won't get the 250 Rs worth of experience.

           And finally after so much drama happening outside, you enter the auditorium only to wish that the coming 3 hrs would be as nice for you as you would have felt gulping down Swensen's chocolate ice cream on Belgian waffles, but then it turns out to be just Karela fry, especially if you land up in a movie like Kya Super Cool Hai Hum ( I wonder to whom the title refers to). I was aghast to see Tusshar Kapoor. I mean how ugly, incompetent a person can be, is simply alarming. I mean he seriously needs to work really hard in order to be so pathetic. I am not even attempting to describe the rest of the cast, I shall die of constipation for sure. So its better to leave the subject as soon as possible and lets talk about a movie which very graciously has touched my heart, and I did not even have to spend a single penny. All thanks to film piracy in the form of 'Torrent.' That wonderful film is 1992 released BARAKA (96 mins), directed by Ron Fricke. If I have to describe the film in one sentence, then the film does not have any storyline, no plot, no dialogues, or actors, except for the fact that it is kaleidoscopic - a global compilation of both natural events and by fate, life and activities of humanity on earth. If you have never been speechless after watching a film, then Baraka is the one for you. And if that does not happen to you, then you are the perfect audience for all the obnoxious Salman Khan movies (not that I have against anything him). The only other movie I could think off which blew me in recent past was 2010 released bengali film 'Arekti Premer Golpo,' starring Rituparno Ghosh and Indraneil Sengupta, which I can talk about it later. You know Baraka is one of those films which starts very gently and silently with no such dramatic effects, but leaves an impression in your mind forever. The film came to me by accident, and how beautiful this accident has been and a biiiiiiiiiiiiig bear hug to torrent, as such films never get to see the sunlight in this country but because of torrent, we get the privilege of such films in our drawing room.  The music is scored by Michael Steams starring Dead can Dance, L. Subramanium, Ciro Hurtado etc, and the tunes simply pierces through your heart and takes you to some other world. The movie starts with a misty early morning scene at the Durbar square in Kathmandu, then the Pasupati temple, Bhaktapur Hanuman Ghat and then to the Wailing Wall of Jerusalem. The scenes one by one just sweeps you and you simply stare at the screen, because you don't know what to feel. Every scene has a different story to tell, and that gets conveyed to you without any dialogue, but only through beautiful pictures and music. How very easily and explicitly various cultures and traditions comes out in every scene - they are intermingles but so yet distinct. The film has number of tracking shots through various settings and has a sort of a universal cultural perspective. There are few shots of Gunung Kawi, Tampak Siring temple in Bali and the tribals worshiping and then directly moves to Mount Bromo in Java. The shift is crisp and sudden and so breathtaking. The camera moves right from above the mouth of the volcano and you can see the hot molten materials inside the volcano. And you are just speechless.
                      India is of course present, but not the Taj Mahal or the scenic beauties of Ladakh. They chose to show the mighty Varanasi Ghat and the people in there. After capturing the Ganga and her beauty, I was stupefied to see the director unfolding the burning rituals of dead bodies on the banks of this old city. Believe me, but there are numerous scenes including one close shot up of a dead body in the funeral pyre, that is the part of this 96 mins journey. However, here, I would ask you not to seat up and splurge out with nationalistic feeling and arguing about the depiction of the east by the west has always been like that, i.e. deadly diseases, poverty, illiteracy etc, but to understand, that with Taj Mahal and Qutub Minar, these rituals are also very much a part of this country and that by capturing these, is in no way the celebration of Indian poverty. I have always believed that Varanasi has a separate identity of her own, and so much is going on simultaneously. Each has a different side, and it is crucial for us to acknowledge those sides also. These are very much a part of the Indian heritage. So don't get all upset...feel it, enjoy it and then analyse it.
           I won't say more, then probably you won't find the interest to watch it. A sequel of this film called Samsara has been released internationally in August 2012. We only hope that India too get to see such wonderful films, but if not, use torrent, or watch it online. I assure that you won't regret. Till the time here is the link for the trailer of Baraka... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XO1nSVy8q8I.....watch the film with an open mind, understand the scenes and you shall get so many flavors. Its a journey of a lifetime.

Reminiscing...

I have never been a hardcore traveler and for me traveling has always been something as a stress buster, not that right now I am into something which takes away 100% of my energy (yet you always want to feel that you need rest), and thus when I travel, I want to do it like a queen and never for once try not to experience the real essence of traveling i.e. the adventurous kind. But given the kind of money that I am being paid, not always it is possible to have the ultimate 'queen like and grand' way of living, and my endeavor has often taken me to the opposite side to my chosen one.

          Allowing myself to go for my first field work (but mainly just to see a new place), I chose Masulipatnam or Machalipatnam, at the Andhra coast and also because I was accompanying one of my good friend for the trip, who was accidentally going for much serious reasons, I just couldn't help myself. Living in South India for the last 5 yrs (4yrs in Hyderabad and now in Bengaluru), more than the IRCTC, the bus services enamored me more. Believe me, you can practically go anywhere through the buses, and these buses run in formidable speed, that you can't imagine. The seats of course won't recline and you have to push like an elephant and finally would just shift an inch - and most definitely the A.C. will stop working in the middle of the night. Most importantly, you have to enjoy South Indian films. That is compulsory. You will get to see the most extraordinary and colorful south Indian films that is possible. I remember my own experience of watching 'Dogaru,' (Sorry if I am getting the spelling wrong), and how wonderful it had been. The mere sight of Mahesh Babu, just set my heart pumping fast and how enthusiastically most of the passengers in that bus, had their eyes wide open and gulping down every move of Mr. Babu. I was also one of them (smirked). But most definitely an i-pod is a must. Make sure you have all the catchiest and the funkiest numbers, which you in any normal situation won't even give it a single try. Mine had the worst of the Hindi songs, some finely tuned Bengali numbers and Enrique Iglesias (don't know exactly which adjective to use). So I remember this situation once when I was traveling to Chennai, in one of these chariots, I met this absolutely weird soul, who did not have an wandering eye, but nonetheless chose to have a blank stare at me, through out his journey. And when I say this, I literally mean the whole 8 hours journey in the night. Whenever I woke up I found this man and his fixed glance on me. He would have been perfect to guard Rabindranth Tagore's noble prize, which has very grandly left the building. I was hesitant to even move my leg. I wondered what he was thinking, and somehow he never seemed to me one of those maniacs. After much struggle, I could gather that may be...may be..he sleeps with his eyes open. I mean, after spending 3 yrs in research, I totally can't refute the idea as we are taught in every step that 'impossible' means i-m-possible. Big problem for his wife! I won't say I get absolutely disturbed and feel utter insecure as a woman traveling alone. Such characters intrigue me and I like to remember them with curiosity and wonder how their lives might be. After all, who am I to judge.

         So Masulipatnam journey did not give me any such honors. Luckily, SRS travels was good enough to reach Vijaywada right at the crack of dawn, from which our second phase of journey was about to begin to our final destination. So feeling as drop dead adventurous, we boarded a local bus, squeezed myself in through the small entrance and managed a seat - probably best to say just the corner of the seat. I smiled looking around me. What I saw was this whole crowd of people, with so many different expressions in their face. Everyone had some kind of expectations some kind of hope, and that was so evident from their faces. I saw this particular child, who was counting coins with concentration. There was one woman who was adorned in every kind of jewelry and the most garish colored  saree that i have ever seen. There was satisfaction in her face, where she most definitely thinks herself to be Aishwariya Rai in her own eyes. I simply loved her confidence. I can  say that, that one bus might just be called an agglomeration of all the emotions of the world. There, I looked as the outsider, with my urban attitude and body language. I felt as if entering in a whole new hemisphere, which was so far away from me, yet so near. It is always advisable not to experiment with clothes when you are in a trip like this. Keep it simple and comfortable, and please do not try to be a style icon, as no one really cares. I think a pair of jeans, t- shirts, kurta and pyjama and most importantly sunscreen lotion - and off you go !!

             Masulipatnam is not Goa. Its not like every city on the Indian coast, needs to be so. There are no shopping malls, no dirty foreigners with 24/7 smoke around them or any pan Indian feeling. The place has its own heart, a very beautiful one, with people who gives it a different essence. I have never been to any small town in South India and Masulipatnam was my first attempt, and I can say it was worth. It does not have any scenic beauty of Switzerland, but you can feel the warmth that the city depicts. If I have to give proper factual data about this place then it is a city and District Head Quarters of the Krishna District, AP and is around 347 Kms from Hyderabad. We landed up in a small but comforting place, and was looking forward for the coming 3 days and 2 nights over there. For one thing that this place will remain in my heart forever is because of its abundance in variety of fishes. If anyone, like me is a fish addict, Masulipatnam is the place for whole new surprises. I still lick my fingers when I recall those delicious fish curries that I plunge into. Simply Wooooow ! So guys, forget about food poisoning, forget about cleanliness, pour your heart out and just eat. There are no specific restaurants to name, each and every place, big or small, has its own life.

       I was awe struck when I came to know from the locals, that Masulipatnam had one of India's first cinema halls (Minerva Talkies), police station and apparently Vijaya Bank has its very first branches over there. I did not have the privilege to see the latter two, but I did see Minerva Talkies, but unfortunately at that very moment my camera left me for some other world. What caught my attention was the name of the roads as the 'Fort Road' and 'French Peta,' the explanation to which was not available, only the word of mouths, saying the proliferation of the colonial powers in those areas. Another significant feature were the number of houses in North Indian style, not to mention one mansion also, with glazed tiles, colorful glasses in the windows and frequent presence of pillars, being quite uncommon from what is generally seen in there. I had the chance of walking through the streets and enjoying every scene in right momentum. Masulipatnam was important for the colonial Britishers as one of the principle ports, where trading activities were quite ramp anent. There is nothing extra ordinary in this small city, but it will be you responsibility to find out that one single moment which you shall treasure through out. India has so much to offer us, not in terms of its metro culture or rapid up-gradation of cities to compete with the world scenario, but through these small cities, which are, even today thriving with their own beauty. My work led me to the scenic beaches of the place, and it was so so clean. Probably it will take another 50 yrs to become another Goa, but the beaches were so pristine, untouched by the human presence.  The main sea beach is approximately 15kms away from the main city of Machilipatnam, much nearer to small village called Chilkalapudi. The beach is long, broad, and pristine, with pale blonde sands. It has a natural bay with shallow waters. There is an old light house, which is still standing. You can travel to these beaches in autos and buses, and of course the main time to visit is early morning. I shall not ask you to seat there and write poetry, but it is my heartiest request to forget the useless intricacies of life at least for 5 mins, and to enjoy what the mother nature has to offer. Standing on that beach my imagination took me some 150 yrs back, where I could see hundreds of colossal colonial ships sailing through the Indian Ocean and reaching the Masulipatnam port. How grand it would have looked, with people working and mingling. Wish I was born at that time.

                      If you are fashion conscious, and even if you are not, one place you should never miss are the places for Block Printing on fabrics. It was simply amazing and astonishing to see how these beautiful clothes which we supposedly buy from places like Fab India and Prapti, get produced by so much hardship. There were men and women, elderly ones who working for like 7 to 8 hrs per day, with these beautiful blocks and fabulous colors and giving it a perfect shape. It was whole new world all together. Each have this elaborate place and very specific method of doing, and this block printing is apparently an age old practice which even today is very much a part of the fashion world. Each and every person out there had a different story to say. Each had different expectations from life. Almost in every household, the block printing factory can be found. How beautiful the colors were and the striking factor, the owners are the supposed designers for these fabrics, who happened to not to have any kind fashion degrees from any NIFTs, or NYFIs, but the results have been so far quite satisfactory.
                  My prerogative to write this blog, is not to give you a detailed account as to what I saw and what not in that place but give you a fair idea as to how much life surprises you, and how in small packages this surprises arrives. I want to entice you with the kind of experiences that I had in a small place like this, which probably I won't have in any bigger part of the world. Some of the things that I have seen can't be expressed in words but are treasured in my heart. I met some beautiful people, who are not the so -called educated, or cultured, or smart but how wonderful they live, is the thing that I loved. The fishermen I met earn probably the lowest of the wages - they have complains, but not against God for making them like that, but against 'a specific system,'  who do not allow them to enjoy the different fruits of life. I still remember this one lady I met and had asked her about her husband (her husband was present), she said in telegu, later translated to me, which says 'kya bole memsahab, hamesha daru peeke para rahta hai,' and right after that both she and her husband laughed. They are happy, in their own way, and we are no one to put forward any opinion about right and wrong. So, people, pack your bags, go to these obscure places. You may never know what awaits you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bRFBkXBzEIE&feature=youtu.be.....A quick look through my lenses.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BfbnWTE6SeQ&feature=youtu.be...Masulipatnam Temple