The Incidental Tourist

I’ve been traveling across Himachal Pradesh which is a completely mountainous region for about a month now. Besides the amazingly picturesque places I've been to, I really enjoy the people that I’ve been coming across. Here’s a glimpse at the most memorable of them …

‘Brian the thirty-something-babe-magnet’ at Jimmy Johnson’s café, Manali, who had an audience of two guys who looked like they were in their early twenties from Canada and England. Actually Brian’s audience was the entire place because it seemed like he had a microphone installed in his throat – the acoustics didn’t have to be very good for his voice to reach every corner of the café.
So we all found out that both Brian and his sister are serial-daters. The last woman he dated was a sweetheart but terribly boring. Brian loves the outdoors and traveling to foreign countries, camping, trekking etc. While all she wanted to do was lay on the beach on vacation. If she hadn’t been such an amazing cook he would have left her much sooner and if they’re both still single when he’s 60, then he’ll probably marry her (I’m sure she’ll take her chances and stay single for Brian).
Just before he left the US for his travels, he met this 29-year-old high school teacher who wears long dresses and sometimes no underwear. She’d asked him to be his date at the school prom coming up in April. He was also told that he would have to be at his best gentlemanly behavior around the kids but of course she would make up for it later. Good thing that she made that clear – the babe magnet now has something to look forward to.
And the reason I know his name is that he often quoted people during his conversation. For example his dad said “Brian, this last girl you brought home seems perfect for you”. Which is when Brian knew that the time had come to dump her.

‘Rakesh, the life-saver’ drove three of us in a van that seats nine from Manali to McLeod Ganj. Since the drive was an all-nighter I was afraid that Rakesh would doze off at the wheel if the rest of us did. So I kept him engaged in conversation and listened to his stories. The most interesting one was about an American tourist who he drove around in his jeep across various locations in the Himalayas. When they got to some higher points in Ladakh (over 13,000 feet) she passed out as a result of altitude sickness. With the help of some local tribals they were able to revive her but due to the thin air and lack of oxygen she kept going back into a state of unconsciousness. With great difficulty he brought her back to a lower altitude and was by her side until she recovered completely. She was so overwhelmed with his dedication that she proposed marriage to him, which he didn’t accept. Mein mem se shaadi kaise karta – mujhe to English bhi theek se nahin aati (how could I marry a Western woman – I can barely speak English). I found his innocence and simplicity both refreshing and touching.

I mentioned that there were three of us traveling in the van. The other two were Vishvan, my nephew and Keren, a young woman from Israel. Rakesh, our driver, was extremely concerned that the two studs in the van (my nephew and I) would try to take advantage of Keren, which he confessed to me when we stopped for dinner. He was so upset about having such tainted thoughts about us nice guys that he stopped later at a temple to ask for forgiveness!

Keren, the woman we had the opportunity to take advantage of but didn’t, had been traveling across the Northern part of India for about a month and was going to stay until the middle of April. She kept talking about how sad she was that she had to go back and that she wished that she could be here forever. She worked for an insurance company and her boss kept calling her every other day to find out when she was returning. Which made me think that either she must be really good at her job or that she must be really good. We kept bumping into her during our days in McLeod Ganj. She wanted to marry me once she found out that I had a U.S. passport. Of course, she was just kidding. Right?

The hypochondriac animated American girl sitting at the next table at the organic café in McLeod Ganj who had irregular menstrual cycles. Except when she had lived with a guy for a brief time and guesses that having a man around was what helped (I assume she meant having regular sex and in retrospect am surprised that she didn’t just come out and say it)! She had tried regular medication, homeopathy and acupuncture with limited success. Now she was in McLeod Ganj doing a course in Yoga. What amused me most was the level of detail she went into when describing her problem and every treatment she had undergone and also the fact that she was so nonchalant about the entire café being privy to what I consider to be quite a private matter. I wanted to go up to her and say ‘find another man’.

Her Asian-American friend who actually seemed interested!

The nerd-English couple Vishvan and I struck up a conversation with at our favorite restaurant in McLeod Ganj called Oogos. They had ordered double stack pancakes, which were the largest pancakes I had ever seen. They didn’t belong in McLeod Ganj where all the Western tourists looked like they had just rolled out of bed, hadn’t showered in quite a while, didn’t look like they could possibly have ever been employed, wore ill-fitted clothes and had a travel-weary look on their faces. Instead these two (I’ve completely forgotten their names) were a doctor and a scientist, wore clean designer clothes, looked freshly showered, smelt nice (our tables were really close) etc. In other words they stuck out like a sore thumb. Minorities like us (Indians) in McLeod Ganj. They’d been traveling for six months – first to South America and then to India. Their favorite place was Peru and Dharamshala was definitely the ‘most interesting’.
I didn’t ask them to explain. Some things are best left to the imagination.

The couple from New York who I met at a book store. Had a question that I knew the answer to. They were in McLeod Ganj for an advanced Yoga class. Good looking and unfriendly. Brought back memories …..

March Showers Bring April Flowers

Tuesday, March 17 2:05 pm

I’m staring at the sky above me, wondering if the rain clouds that have suddenly filled up a portion of the sky are actually going to bring about some moisture. Or if they will leave as quickly as they appeared. I’m hoping not. The area has been dry for over 6 months – there was no snow this winter and everything is starting to look parched. My desire for rain is a little selfish though since right now I can only imagine how everything around me would look if it were lush green instead of a dry brown.

I’ve been in Mashobra for almost five days now. Five days that have definitely resulted in me losing some extra flab and feeling fitter than I’ve been in a while. Five days that have made me realize that in spite of being alone I am not even close to being lonely. Being a self-proclaimed out and out urbanite, five days of simple living have made me question if that is who I really am.

My biggest treat is going to the local market and buying some sweets. I’ve done it only once so far. I figure that if I have them too often they will stop being a treat. And then what will I be left with?

The best part about being here for me is all the walking/trekking that I get to do. Two, three hours of it everyday and there is no sense of being tired. Completely out of breath when I do the uphill climbs but not at all tired. Loving it!

However, three days straight of Indian meals consisting of roti (a whole wheat tortilla for the benefit of my American readers), daal (lentils) and vegetables cooked Indian style and I was really to kill for pizza. I knew I had to get to Shimla and eat something that wasn’t Indian and also pick up groceries that would get me through the next few days. Now I’m all set with cereal, whole wheat bread, soups, cheese etc. Not to forget a bottle each of wine and rum!

Just outside my room is an apricot tree that’s in the process of blooming. I take a picture of it everyday so I can tell the progressive difference from the day that I arrived until the day that I leave. I expect to post those pictures in about a week.

I must also introduce you to my canine friend, who walks with me every morning shortly after I wake up. We don’t know each other’s names because he doesn’t belong to the people whose farm I’m living in. He just visits me every so often and we either have a one-sided conversation or just walk around. I picked up some treats for him also yesterday as a reward for being such a good friend.

The clouds are still around. I have my fingers crossed. I want all the parched vegetation to have some relief and not be thirsty any longer. Maybe I should do a rain dance or something. I wonder if I could get the steps if I googled it. Anything’s possible.

Tuesday, March 17, 6:35 pm

It still hasn’t rained but there’s a complete cloud cover. I heard rain down in the valley and am hoping that we will also get lucky. I just got back from making kadai paneer for 10 people (the 2 Bahadur’s and their families). If they don’t like the way it tastes, they’re certain to keep me out of the kitchen in the future. Otherwise I’ve decided to make a dish for dinner every night. Join us if you can.

Mesmerized in Mashobra

I’m sitting on the edge of a cliff. I would be intimidated if I thought about how high up I am and that if I stumble over I could be in serious trouble. So I choose not to think about it and focus on the marvels of nature and technology. Here I am in complete solitude and silence, sitting on the edge of a cliff (couldn’t help bringing that up again for effect) and am still connected to the entire world over airwaves. No less than a miracle if you ask me.

I reached the town of Mashobra, which is about an hour away from Shimla (sometimes spelt Simla) last evening. Although I’m passionate about travel, I’m not too crazy about journeys. Which is why I wasn’t particularly looking forward to the 4 ½ hour bus ride from Chandigarh to Shimla followed by an hour to Mashobra by cab. The journey actually ended up being fairly comfortable and I didn’t get impatient or irritable. The bus initially had a request show that was playing on the radio. One of the callers was a street vendor selling pani puri’s (google it, if you don’t know what that is). He was requesting a song for his wife who was perpetually mad at him because every night he would come home late from work. His reason for being late was that after he closed shop at 11 pm, he had a ‘meeting’ to go to. Unfortunately the radio jockey didn’t go into details about the meeting so I’ve been wondering ever since what this post 11 pm meeting must be about!

Mashobra was introduced to me last year by my cousin, Madhu, whose friend has an expanse of absolutely gorgeous land in the area (actually I believe she owns a hill). Thanks to the hospitality of the friend I am now in the midst of mountainous beauty. A portion of the property is used as campgrounds for folks who come to trek in the area. The first group of this year is expected next week. Should be fun for me too. While they freeze their butts out in the tents and use makeshift toilets, I’ll be sleeping comfortably in the cottage bedroom with an attached bath and running hot water.

I don’t think I’ve ever been in such complete silence. I’ve been to very quiet places several times but it’s always been with friends/family. And the people I associate with are usually anything but quiet. So here I am, all by myself, surrounded by silence. I wonder if I will get tired of it at some point.

Well, I’m actually not entirely alone. A little bit away from where I’m staying, is another cottage where the help live, consisting of 2 men both whose names are ‘Bahadur’. The older Bahadur is the boss and has his family with him. The younger one seems like the errand boy and I’m unsure of his marital status and whether his family is also here. Thanks to the two Bahadur’s, I got my meals served in my room, my clothes washed and ironed and escorted when I went out for a trek this morning! They seem a little paranoid that I’ll lose my way and they’ll lose their jobs. I’m sure I’ll manage to shake them off by tomorrow.

Mashobra has been on my mind for the past couple of months and now I’m here. I feel truly special, lucky and blessed to be in such a marvelous place, surrounded by imposing mountains. I feel so small and in a way I also feel so big. I guess it must be because both the Bahadur’s are smaller in size than I am!

Reaching out to the Sky

Patience is not a virtue I possess in abundance. When I returned from New York to Bangalore I was all set for my next adventure. Except that I didn’t know what the adventure would be. There were rumblings of ‘working on a movie’, ‘making a corporate training film’, ‘taking up some consulting/training opportunities’ (zomg!) but they were just rumblings. I didn’t know which of them would materialize and more importantly which of them I really wanted to pursue.

Not knowing where my life was headed was driving me up the wall. Barely any time had passed since I had returned but I needed answers right away. I was waiting for a sign and not doing a great job at it! Shall I go back to New York? Shall I take up a job in Bangalore? Do I want to start a restaurant or an exclusive catering service? Questions that I wasn’t getting an affirmative response to. From myself.

And then one evening while I was having a chat with my friend Aparna (Paul-Jain) who, during the course of our typing, pointed me to this site that made my decision for me. I was going to be a volunteer teacher in the Himalayas! Suddenly New York no longer interested me (for now) and the idea of spending extended time in a beautiful mountainous region, teaching little kids English, living in a little room with minimal comforts, traveling to places that I’ve always wanted to go to and writing the book that I’ve been itching to … it couldn’t be more perfect!

Going back to New York would have been too easy in some ways. The hardest thing would have been to get a job in this economy but other than that I was going to be back in an environment I had lived in and loved. The excitement of exploring something new was missing and even when I was speaking to my friends in the Big Apple about the possibility of my moving back, my heart was someplace else. I’m not saying that I’m never going back to New York – I hope to and I would love for it to be my base city. But right now I’m headed ‘someplace else’.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always loved the mountains. It’s been my favorite place to vacation. When I lived in the US, I was so overwhelmed by the mountains in Colorado and Montana. It’s about time I explore the Himalayan mountain system, which happens to be the planet’s largest, and is home to the world’s highest peaks. My heart is pounding just writing about it!!

A couple of days ago I was reading a cover story of a magazine which said ‘2008 – Thank God its Over!’. Not quite my sentiments. I thought 2008 was one of the most exciting years of my life and I have my postings to prove it! I had the ultimate urban experience in the ultimate urban environment. And now its time to do something completely different. No more unlimited choice of restaurants, theatre, sporting events, bars, nightclubs, waking up to police car sirens, noisy neighbors, annoying tourists. I foresee a lot of silence. It’s going to be so dramatically different. It’s time to reach out to the sky.

Home is Where the Heart is - the Sequel

I know the previous post was supposed to be my last for the year. But it wasn’t. So shoot me!

This one is basically to respond to all of you that reacted to my last post either by leaving a comment, sending me an email, calling or chatting with me online. In this post I will just respond to the comments and that should also take care of the emails that I received.

Naresh – I appreciate the encouragement but I’m not moving back to New York. At least not yet. You are however, still going to lose a friend in Bangalore as I’m not staying here either!

Aparna – I can’t believe you actually put a public comment out there. It was great spending the time with you in New York and briefly in Chicago – even though I’ve decided against moving back (for now), I will still see you in 2009 when I visit.

Madhu – You’re right I was restless towards the end but I think a short visit back would have taken care of that state of mind! Also the fact that I was running out of cash could have had something to do with my restlessness!

Mike – Dude … I honestly had no good reason to move back when I did. My plan was to spend a year or so in New York. I thought I was done and should try something new. I still had my house/car etc back in Bangalore so I hadn’t really gone with the intention of staying for too long. I especially hadn’t counted on falling in love with the city!

Rashi – Its funny how you’ve known me for such a short time and you still know me well enough to say ‘but knowing you, you never know’. So true. The last thing I want to be is predictable! I do appreciate the welcome with open arms and hope to see you guys in 2009.

Sheetal – I don’t think I have an issue with feeling a sense of belonging. I’ve never felt that I didn’t belong in any of the places that I’ve lived in but I’ve also never felt that I belonged in New York as much as I did! As my friend Elsa put it - “it’s love”. I think it is. But sometimes one has to work to obtain one’s love and that’s what I need to do right now!

Susan – That was such a sweet comment. I was truly touched. Who knew that two strangers sitting across from each other at the airport would become good friends and have so much in common.

Uma – I’m at a point where I don’t think I could live in Bangalore for 6 months in a year. I think that I’m pretty much done with this city!

So are you wondering what I’ve decided to do in place of moving to New York? I hope that I’ve perked up your curiosity. I will reveal my plans to you in the New Year. Meanwhile have a safe and enjoyable time on the 31st night/1st morning and I hope that 2009 brings us all peace and a better economy.

Home is Where the Heart is!

Until a couple of years ago I felt that I was going to live in Bangalore for the rest of my life. At the time I hadn’t counted on evolving and having different expectations as time went on. More importantly, I hadn't discovered 'living in New York'!

Two months ago after I returned from my 16 month stint in New York some people asked me whether I thought Bangalore had changed. My response to that was that I didn’t know if Bangalore had changed or not but I sure had!

I feel that Bangalore doesn’t offer me the kind of life that I would like to live. In addition, after living in a little apartment in New York, the size of my penthouse is beginning to embarrass me. I question myself as to why I need to have so much space. If I could have my way, I would sell my apartment and move into a more modest sized one. Unfortunately with the economy going through a time of turmoil, the practical side of me tells me that this is not the time to sell.

It’s been two months since I returned and I’m still unsettled. In one of my previous posts I had mentioned that I felt like a New Yorker the day I moved in. I am however, not feeling like a Bangalorean in spite of having lived here for several years and having felt it previously.

Some of my friends in the US had warned me that I was going back too soon. And although in my heart of hearts I too was afraid of the same, I thought that once I came back I would forget it all and be happy here.

Why is it that Bangalore doesn’t feel like home any longer? What is it that I miss about New York that I would like it to be home at this stage of my life? Here’s a list of things that come to my mind.

- More than anything I miss the energy of that city. I have never felt more alive than when I was in New York.

- I miss the variety of people one gets to see and meet. Walking on the streets, being in the subway in a city made up of Caucasians, African-Americans, Hispanics, South East Asians, South Asians, etc.

- I miss being in the culture capital of the world – Broadway, art exhibits, book launches, movie premiers, writing workshops ….

- Central Park. It was such an integral part of my year – my escape from the hustle and bustle, when I wanted to enjoy the weather and read my book, walking through Strawberry fields, Bethesda fountain, the vibrant change in colors from the lush greens, the purples, yellows, oranges to the bare browns or the snow covered stark white.

- I miss walking to the bank, the grocery store, the post office, the barber shop, the cleaners, the restaurants …. I just miss walking in New York!

- I miss the variety of restaurants, the New York style pizza, the over-hyped Magnolia cup cakes, the best pancakes that I’ve ever had at the W and the Four Seasons, the Martinis, Chinatown, Little Italy, the absence of chain restaurants, the overwhelming presence of Sushi places, Sunday brunches etc.

- I miss the eye candy!

- I miss my Upper West Side neighborhood, the C train, the Red line, SOHO, Greenwich Village, Riverside Park. I even miss Times Square!!!!

I mentioned to a friend in New York over chat yesterday that I was considering moving back. Her response was that I was crazy and I asked what was wrong with that. To which she said ‘Absolutely nothing! It’s completely okay to be crazy!’

I don’t know if I’m actually going to move. Two weeks from today I may wake up and feel wonderful about being here. I do know that I Heart New York and isn’t that where home is supposed to be?

War and Peace

On the night of November 26th I was in Amritsar with my sister and brother-in-law. Although we had spent considerable time at the Golden Temple during the day, I decided to go back later that night. There weren’t too many people at that hour and the experience was completely different from the previous one, when a much larger crowd of devotees and tourists were at this remarkable site. I felt at peace mesmerized by the sight of the temple amidst the calmness of the lake that it sits on. The temple is surrounded by marvels of architecture with entrances on all sides signifying the importance of acceptance and openness. It’s said that one cannot visit the Golden Temple until one receives a bulava or an invitation from the Almighty and I felt truly blessed to have been on His invitee list.

In another part of the country, at exactly the time that I was feeling so good about being alive, terror had begun striking. The streets of South Mumbai were being riddled with bullets, a very uncommon occurrence (at least I don’t ever remember it happening previously but what do I know?). Although I was alarmed when I watched the news later that night in my hotel room, I eventually went to bed dismissing the entire incident as being no more than a gang war.

The morning news was of a completely different nature by which time the terrorists had taken over prestigious hotels in the heart of the city and a building that housed Israeli nationals, having killed many and holding others hostage. The entire experience of watching it on television was surreal. Like a bad action movie, poorly edited and much too long. Except the people in the midst of it were real and not actors. Was this the ultimate reality show in extremely bad taste?

In a world population of approximately 6.7 billion we have a miniscule percentage of terrorists that are creating havoc. Why is it that 99.99999% of ‘us’ are not able to get rid of .00001% of ‘them’? Why are the political agendas stronger than safety agendas? Why is it that we have to spend billions to incorporate security measures when we could spend a lot less to terrorize and finish them? What is it going to take? Isn't this really enough?

Are we going to light a candle, wear white for a day, participate in a protest rally and go back to our seemingly unmemorable lives, struggling to survive, saving to make the next big purchase, wanting a meal in the most talked about restaurant-of-the-week and wondering (fleetingly) if the subway/mall/theatre that we’re in could blow up at any time?

At this point I have no great ideas as to what we can do as individuals. What I do know is that we must not forget that terrorism is a part of our lives until terrorism is eliminated. We must voice our anger, our need for safety, demand the implementation of security measures and very importantly look out for each other as good human beings. When I read about the employees of the Taj and Oberoi who gave up their lives to protect their customers, it completely amazed me. In such a situation one would think that they would have tried to protect themselves first but instead these were unarmed servers, chefs, administrative staff who put the lives of their customers first. It’s only thanks to such heroes that we still have faith in humanity.

The terrorist attacks of November 26th are being called India’s 9/11. Do we need a label for the incident? I’m fine with a label as long as we take it as seriously as 9/11 was taken by the US. As Indians, most of us are cynical about what we should expect from our political system. However, we have to be resilient and ensure that this isn’t ‘just another attack’. Enough IS enough. Make your voices heard. Fight the evil.

Peace must take over.