Shit.

Cannot forget the smell
Faint, at first, then unmistakably foul

Cannot forget the colours
Vibrant. Yellow, orange and brown

Cannot forget the shapes
Blobs, mounds and pretzels

Water is an illusion

Wash my hands
Wash my feet
Wash my face
Wash my shoes
Wash my clothes

Water is magic

Don't smell anymore
Don't see anymore
Don't feel anymore

Water.

Note: One month after fieldwork in Shivajinagar, Mumbai, some images refuse to leave me. 

Change.

So simple. Everywhere. All the time. Obvious. Inevitable.

Yet, it is troubles. Uncomfortable. Unease. Why? Good? Bad? In-between?

Whenever anyone tells me, ‘S/He’s changed so much.’, ‘S/he’s not the same’. I wonder. Isn’t it obvious? Isn’t it the rule? To change? Isn’t change another name for growth?

Every second, I grow, I see new things, I experience, I observe, I react. Hence, I change.

The degree theory; I think maybe like most things even in change is it not just the end product but the ‘how’ and ‘how much’ of change that matters. Fundamentally, I still like to believe that we remain the same. Yeah, we have life changing experiences, people, cultures and places happen to us but at the core I think there are certain things that don’t change.

But then, where does this view leave people who bank on change to be their saviour? Isn’t change the hope for many? To turn over a new leaf?

When I come back home and see my bed in the same place, the Buddha statue sitting on the top shelf, smiling serenely, that picture at the beach on my table, I feel an odd sense of comfort and ease. When something is moved, I dislike it. It makes me uncomfortable, queasy. But sometimes I like that new feeling, the new painting, new sheets.

Pffft.

A friend and I used to very steadfastly maintain that changes and constants aren’t opposites but intertwined.

‘Change, my dear friend,’ he said, ‘is the only constant.’

To that I say, ‘Meh.’ 

*wild, new, unpredictable life*

As the sunlight floods into my room, the cool breeze blowing the curtain into my face, the scary white pigeon comes and coos near the railing and the sight of the little green plant swaying in the wind, defying everything and growing through the cracks in the concrete makes me smile.

The five-ten minute walk to college is pretty exciting itself.  My roomies talk about assignments and field work and I smile as I hear a familiar song, and see the municipal worker humming to herself as she sweeps, next to her a little boy waits for his school bus, face powdered a tiny hanky pinned to his shirt. The smell of incense overpowers me as we pass the temple, at the signal we wait to cross the road, trucks and buses stop dangerously close and their exhaust fumes travel through my respiratory tract.

A cacophony of bird calls greets me as I walk into campus every morning. I’d normally grumble if I have to wake up early and walk in the rain. But it’s beautiful, the keechad, the puddles of water, the leaf litter, the little rivulets of muddy water that crisscross and form patterns on the black tar.

As I approach the mess for breakfast I can smell the poha, and hear the chattering monkeys, the little ones playing and swinging on the rusty iron ladder, eating the fallen purple fruit on the ground. And my friend, the mynah, hops and runs, trying to outrun the worms, pecks at them and fly away to gobble it in peace.

Today I went for my first institutional visit and also travelled in the famous red BEST buses. As we crossed the Vashi creek, I could see little boats and fishing nets, my vision suddenly obscured by a train on the parallel bridge! Uncles going to work with their colourful unmbrellas,  aunties with flowers in their hair, the tinkle of the bell that signals the bus stops...

I’m learning so much both in and outside the classroom. The pink blossoms that form a beautiful bed outside the classroom window, the koel’s call, the line of ants near the window, the campus dogs PJ talks to in Tamil, they add colour to my canvas. 

mumbai mirror work

Whenever someone says “Mumbai”, the first thing I think about it is the chatpata bhel puri, the colourful Falooda and the rain. It’s the city where my Mother grew up; it’s also where I was born. I remember the summer vacations in Bombay, when my only agenda was to gorge on pav bhaji and go to Essel World (their butter popcorn is SO delicious!).

Now, I’m here to study, to do my Masters for the next two years and my basic agenda hasn’t changed much!

For the first time I’m away from home, away from the two people that mean the most to me in the whole wide world! And, I’m really glad that I’ve come to a place like Mumbai..the city is so welcoming and there are so many people for whom the city is home for at least some part of their lives..that one does not feel like an outsider. I’ve been here more than a week and I haven’t felt alone or homesick. Maybe it’s the new course, new life ka josh but I’d like to think that it’s the city and its people that are so endearing.

I’m in love with the Tata Institute campus; it takes me back a decade to Dehradun..the magpie robins navigating the palm fronds, the mynah that loves to run and hop on the driveway and realizes it’s better at flying, the black and blue butterfly that rests on a tree stump, a pair of mating frogs, a huge snail, the water droplets on the green grass and the leaf litter that carpets the tarmac...like my roommate P says, it’s a mini rainforest!

This weekend I went exploring with my friends, sat in a local train after a very long time, it was SO exciting; the crowd, the wooden seats, the paan stains, the smell of sweat, the sound of the train picking up speed, checking the little booklet for the next stop, the smell of samosa and chai, a train journey always heightens my senses. There is an explosion of sounds and smells and colours and I wouldn’t want to miss a thing!

We got off at Victoria Terminus, (that makes an appearance in every Bollywood movie shot in Mumbai) which is so typically British with the Union Jack carved in stone in the ceiling, the two lions guarding the entrance, it’s a majestic structure and somehow symbolic of everything Mumbai is.

We then took a bus to Gateway of India through small cobbled streets and wide tar roads, past the Reserve Bank of India and a pigeon coop to arrive at a place lined with Banyan trees with roots that look like school girl plaits and a line of Horse drawn carriages that take you along Marine Drive.  Little bubbles floated into vision as I looked at the Taj Hotel and the Gateway.  The smell of roasting bhutta, pink candy floss, chana and churmur chaat walas assaulted my senses as I tried to navigate amongst the what looked like the entire population of Mumbai that had ventured out for a fun Sunday. Next was Colaba, with the posh International brands and the roadside jewellery shop, old grandfather clocks and the kholapuris with their characteristic smell. All the smelling made us hungry and we freaked out on brownies and cheesecake at Theobroma cafe/bakery.

We then took a taxi to marine drive, with the wind in our hair and Praveen singing in the background! Just sitting and watching the Arabian Sea, the sunset, the crabs trying to escape the waves and clambering onto the slippery rocks was peaceful! There were people all around us, sitting shoulder to shoulder, one stranger to another, staring at the water, at the hazy buildings in the distance, asking questions and seeking answers...it is perhaps the water, so indefinable itself, that connects everyone who stops by.

The city is like the embroidered red ghagra-choli the little girl at the traffic signal was wearing, and I cannot wait for the mirror work to dazzle me!

Till next weekend!

Ghaas-Phoos

When you are a vegetarian in India you don’t fully realise what the hullabaloo about vegetarianism and turning vegan (fashion statements?!) in the West is about, especially, if you are a tolerant vegetarian and someone who has few reservations about picking from your friend’s chicken sandwich.

I mean, if you go to Goa, you can’t come back without tasting the seafood, right?! :P

(Don’t miss the golden fried prawns!)

But, I’ve come across few tolerant non-veggies…what do they have to tolerate, you ask?

Well, for starters: stop thinking vegetarians starve or that they’re missing out on “life”. When you’re a meat eater you often overlook the wonders that the plant kingdom has to offer!

And, vegetarian food in India is colourful, vibrant and delicious. 

We were talking about all the things that we love about India in class and I said, “FOOD” (yeah, yeah, I was thinking of yummy parathas and lassi, if you must know!)

My friend turned around and said, ‘Food? But, you’re vegetarian!’

OUCH? I can understand where she’s coming from though…she’s from Meghalaya and there are limited options for vegetarians in that part of the country.

It irks me every time people look down upon vegetarians. What is on your plate is a personal matter, whether it’s a lifestyle choice or just the way you’ve been brought up.

The web of different attitudes and values about food is intricate but both Vegetarians and Non-Vegetarians must co-exist. After all, it’s about balance in the food chain! 

And, ah, if you have any doubts about what herbivorous Homo sapiens eat (and enjoy), come home, my mother will banish all those doubts when she places 12 different dishes with *ghaas-phoos*, masala and a little magic from different corners of the country on the table! 

*sunny* Sri Lanka!

This summer was one to remember. And, I’ve been thinking about how to put together everything that I saw, all the happy people I met and the yummy food I ate, when people ask me, “How was Sri Lanka?”

I’ve decided to re-live some of the *crazyfuninterestingamazing* bits through some photographs!

Colombo

Since it was raining most of the first week I was there, we went armed with umbrellas (incase of rain and unwanted male attention!) and explored Colombo. We went to quaint cafes and welcoming boutiques. Barefoot, Coco Veranda, Commons and Paradise Road were some places that I really enjoyed. I really wish we had a place like BAREFOOT (http://www.barefoot.lk/home.htm) in our cities; it has a fabric/handicraft store, a bookshop, a cosy café and an art gallery. I could live there!

My friend also took me to Colombo Univ. which even during vacations is brimming with character: the torn posters & notices, plain tea in steel cups from the canteen and the sludgy grounds all hold a unique charm.

*Sizzle* as the name suggests is a restaurant where everything sizzles, from the main course to desserts! A must have is the blueberry cheesecake (in pic). It’s yummy. And, purple!

I’m vegetarian, so I did not sample all the sea-food that SL is famous for! (Except a tiny bit of prawn)

String hoppers, Kiribath (milk rice- tastes a little like pongal), pol sambol (dry-tangy coconut chutney like side-dish) and lamprais ( rice that is wrapped in banana leaf and baked is a dutch influence) all were new experiences at the table. I enjoyed eating as much as listening to the history behind some of the preparations.

And, Desserts.Mmm-mm. Apart from chocolates and ice-cream everyday, I had rhubarb for the first time and also curd with treacle (as dessert!).

Kandy

The first chance we got we headed out of the city towards the hills. Kandy, was beautiful. The hills, the mist, the Maligawa (Temple of the sacred tooth-relic of Lord Buddha), the lake.

Pinnawala Elephant Orphanage- on the way to Kandy, was where we got to see elephants of all shapes and sizes being bathed. The baby elephants were quite adorable!


Yala National Park- is my current favourite wildlife spot. (It’s competing with the rainforests of the western ghats!)

The view of the park from an observation deck is breath-taking. It’s tree tops and green shrubs that merge into the ocean. You can see the white sea spray, hear the waves and the crickets while you breathe the magical forest air! And, it was extra special because I saw my first wild leopard at Yala! :)

Galle

Reminded me of Pondicherry. An escape from confusion, it has this serene façade. The fort ramparts, the old shop fronts, the wooden gates and the churches made me want to conjure up a pot of paint and a sheet of cardboard so I could capture the colours and the peace.

Bentota Beach

Was the best day of the whole trip! And what made it that?!

We first caught the wrong train.*calm* Got off at the next station. Caught the right train. We stood and chatted about the many different shades of blue that we could see from the train, the dry fish stalls that left a lingering smell in the train for a few minutes, the many angles that the coconut trees made along the coast, Umbrella lovers on rocky beaches and prawan-vadai vendors on the train. I think we were SO caught up in the little thrills that a train journey provides, we forgot to get off the train at Bentota! Yes. We missed the station, even though we were staring at a board that said –"Lihiniya Surf Hotel, Bentota". And, we did the craziest thing ever.

We *jumped *off the train a few minutes later when the train made an unscheduled stop at a clearing! NO platform. I’m short. Yes, I could’ve broken my legs. But I didn’t. And, thinking about it makes my grin and burst into laughter. I think it always will!!! =P

That’s our train-

I think Indians sometimes don’t consider the little island as a holiday destination that is *not-to-be-missed* because they think it is Kerala part-2!

Sri Lanka is similar to some parts of our country, no doubt, but there is something distinctive about it. The monks in their saffron robes, smiling women wearing the kandyan saree waiting at the bus-halt, festivities during Vesak (Buddha poornima) and the beautiful, unparalleled coast-line are reason enough for me to want to go back!

Going Solo

I turned twenty about a month ago. It didn’t feel different or old. I was excited. Not just about the day but the days to come. Because, my parents (cool that they are) gifted their (now responsible) little girl a holiday in Sri Lanka. So, on the night of my birthday instead of partying I packed with much anticipation. Looking forward to two weeks on a little island.

Obviously, I couldn’t sleep. At the airport just before I was about to board the plane, I felt a sudden rush of happiness, and also gratitude. I strapped myself in and noticed a white band on my bare wrist. Perfect! I who meticulously plan and pack, had forgotten my watch. Secretly, I was glad. It was a sign. I was going without an itinerary, wanting to discover each place, and unwrap it like a surprise.

I had to take two flights, first to Chennai and from there to Colombo. On both flights, women who sat next to me, chatted me up; curious and a little surprised that I was travelling alone. At Chennai Airport, the Immigration officer looked at me with beady little eyes, and unsuccessfully hid her suspicions (juvenile delinquent, running away from home?!) after checking with another officer, she reluctantly stamped my passport. I was a little annoyed with so many people assuming I was too young to travel alone.

As I sat reading my book, occasionally glancing at the departure terminal, my mind hovered, as it tuned in and out of conversations around me.

A young couple, most probably Punjabi, newly married, were busy taking pictures, lost in each other and their newfound love, even wilting flowers in a vase seemed to hold their interest. An old man was speaking really loudly into a tiny phone, repeatedly telling his son/daughter that there had been no problem at the airport, afraid that they couldn’t understand. He fidgeted for a while, walking up and down, then, resigned he sat down clutching his bag tightly and stared at the departures screen. A foreigner in salwar- kameez walked past me and flashed a brilliant smile. I smiled back and sudden loud wailing made me turn around. A child had overturned her cup of hot noodles, the father was shouting, and the mother looked pained and embarrassed. I stuffed my book in my bag and thought about the time when I was little, and had spilt boiling tea over myself in a train.

As the boarding call was announced I looked forward to my first holiday alone, across the little strip of water, in the middle of the Indian Ocean, and felt a little old.