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| There's beauty in poverty. Source: Wikimedia Commons |
Anyone can romanticise a sunny day. Only some can write poetry on dank ones.
Be among those few, because the world needs them more.
Be among the few.
Anyone can romanticise a sunny day. Only some can write poetry on dank ones.
Be among those few, because the world needs them more.
Always another way.
There are -
more ways than one
to spread sunny cheer
and some may do it through their speech
elating those around and near
and some may do it through their art
gladdening those far and apart
So worry not
if you make none smile
There's always another way
to go that extra mile.
I don't know why I wrote that - I think it's because I always worry, that because I'm quiet and rarely perceived as the 'nice one', I may not be doing such a great job of spreading joy in this world. And trust me, that's the only goal worth having. It's the only resolution worth making, Nietzsche has convinced me. Reading about his decision to 'beautify the world', I found myself greatly troubled. I'm not funny and I barely say a word, except to the precious few that are closest to me. Am I contributing to people's lives in any way at all? I'm not the one many would approach in their time of need and I'm not the one they'd turn to if they needed cheering up. Then am I living a selfish existence - adding nothing; yet taking from the world?
And that's when it struck me - there is more than one way to spread cheer. It's not easy to light a spark in the hearts of those miles, countries away, and yet, I do believe I achieve that impossible task, sometimes, with a line or two that rings particularly well with the reader. And I do believe, cheering the distant reader isn't any less than humoring the nearby neighbour. That thought comforts me and lessens my unease at being an introvert who is extremely lazy about conversations and people relations.
more ways than one
to spread sunny cheer
and some may do it through their speech
elating those around and near
and some may do it through their art
gladdening those far and apart
So worry not
if you make none smile
There's always another way
to go that extra mile.
I don't know why I wrote that - I think it's because I always worry, that because I'm quiet and rarely perceived as the 'nice one', I may not be doing such a great job of spreading joy in this world. And trust me, that's the only goal worth having. It's the only resolution worth making, Nietzsche has convinced me. Reading about his decision to 'beautify the world', I found myself greatly troubled. I'm not funny and I barely say a word, except to the precious few that are closest to me. Am I contributing to people's lives in any way at all? I'm not the one many would approach in their time of need and I'm not the one they'd turn to if they needed cheering up. Then am I living a selfish existence - adding nothing; yet taking from the world?
And that's when it struck me - there is more than one way to spread cheer. It's not easy to light a spark in the hearts of those miles, countries away, and yet, I do believe I achieve that impossible task, sometimes, with a line or two that rings particularly well with the reader. And I do believe, cheering the distant reader isn't any less than humoring the nearby neighbour. That thought comforts me and lessens my unease at being an introvert who is extremely lazy about conversations and people relations.
A date with the wild
The video above offers a glimpse of my dream trip from The Active Holiday Company - Multi Active Kenya. The 11 day trip includes rafting at River Tana, trekking to Mount Kenya and safaris at Lake Nakuru National Park and Masai Mara Game Reserve. An adrenalin-filled journey through the forests and primitive wilderness of Africa is a long-cherished dream. This relatively untouched continent symbolises nature in all her uncivilised, untamed beauty for me. I remember this time when I had trekked to Tungareshwar temple on the outskirts of Mumbai city with my parents, just after the monsoons. Sitting there atop the mountain, with acres of green forest beneath me, I felt like I was the world and the world was me. Some core element of my being seemed to reach out to that silent wilderness and find that, they fit perfectly together. That feeling of peaceful, detached and expansive perfection is what I seek to magnify and recapture on a visit to the Savannahs of East Africa.
Take me back to where I came from
Primeval nature
Untouched, unaltered
Where wilderness finds free expression
And lions roam with their mightiness unclipped
Where man's invasive hands have been swatted away
And majestic cheetahs have their haughty way
Where dawn's golden rays reach the earth, unhindered
And the world's original splendour
Purifies beast and all.
Now, my idea of travelling has never been to book myself at a four-star resort and the laze the days away by an indoor pool. I like to discover new places all the time, pack in several in a single day and push myself to the point of exhaustion, in my quest for hidden secrets and breathtaking sights and quaint communities. The Active Holiday Company is a tour operator that caters to travellers like me and if you're also the exploring, active kind, you will love the kind of tours they have on offer. There are cycling tours, marathons, polar expeditions, wildlife safaris and aqua adventures to choose from. So let me take you through my dream trip - Multi Active Kenya - Rafting, Trekking and Safari (11 Days).
Here's a quiz you might want to take, before you embark on this journey with me:
1. I'm an outdoors person.
A. Yes B. No C. Maybe
2. I prefer forests and mountains over beaches.
A. Yes B. No C. Maybe
3. I'm comfortable with mountainous terrain and rivers.
A. Yes B. No C. Maybe
4. I can name most wild animals and birds.
A. Yes B. No C. Maybe
5. I enjoy camping.
A. Yes B. No C. Maybe
Answered 'yes' to most of the questions? Then, read on. Else, hop over to http://www.activeholidaycompany.com/ and find something that's more up your street. :)
The diary of a traveller on the Multi Active Kenya trip...
Day 1.
I arrived at Nairobi airport, armed with my rucksack and a truckload of enthusiasm and excitement. A friendly representative from The Active Holiday Company received me at the arrivals lounge and my journey of a lifetime began.
Day 2.
I was up at the unearthly hour at 5 AM but I didn't even need an alarm because I was so excited! I had a scrumptious breakfast with my co-travellers and at 6:45 AM, our driver plus guide took us to the small Kenyan town of Sagana, known for its river rafting camps. It was an hour and a half's drive to River Tana, where I'd be having my first ever white water rafting experience.
We reached the base camp and just like in an airplane, a safety briefing happened with the only difference being that here we had to wear all the gear beforehand, rather than waiting for a mishap to occur. The possibility of slight risk only heightened the adrenalin rushing through me. A ten minute drive later, we were on the water. It was simply incredible being so close to the water and braving the rapids with the sound of the water in my ears and the forest wind sweeping past my face and hair.
I was amazed when our guide said we could swim during the minor rapids! That was one time when I was supremely grateful for never having missed my swimming lessons when I was younger. But nothing prepared us for the 'spasm' - a succession of stunning drops over nearly a kilometre-long stretch. I was scared and I was also exhilarated. I do believe my soul sang out loud when the raft plunged through those rapids and misty white water fell in huge sheets all around me. I was totally famished by the end of the experience and was glad to return to our camp for a delicious barbeque lunch.
Day 3.
I wanted to ask the days to slow down because I'd never had so much fun in my life! But all too soon, it was time to get our trekking kits sorted and then drive to Sirimon Park where we would begin our ascent up the famous Kenyan mountain.
We began with quite an easy and pleasant trek in the forest, which would take us to Old Moses camp. The helpful guide said that this was to help us acclimatize to the altitude and surroundings. Everything was breathtakingly beautiful and all the colours from the blue of the sky to the green of the grass, seemed deeper than ever before.
I woke up to the most spectacular sunrise of my life, up in those lofty, primitive mountains. Later, walking up the Sirimon Track to Likii North Valley, my mind was absolutely blank as I allowed nature to work her magic on me.
That night, we slept in tents set up at Likii North Valley, 3990, high up Mt Kenya. The valley was picture perfect, with its view of the snow-tipped peaks of Teleki and Sendeyo, between which it was nestled. Over a bonfire, our guide told us that they used to serve as vents to the main peaks.
Day 5.
Today, we climbed up to 4300m and my limbs were starting to feel the effects of the trek. But the surroundings and the nightly silence were so rejuvenating that there was no other place I'd have rather been. We left Likii Valley behind and made our way to the broad Mackinder's Valley.
We camped right at the top of the valley, below the Batian and Nelion peaks. The deep blue sky provided a wonderful contrast against the russet coloured mountains towering around us. I wondered if our footfalls disturbed their peace but perhaps, they enjoyed the intermittent company. At night, we camped at the Shiptons camp, which was quite comfortable.
Day 6.
I don't think I've ever woken up this early in my life. Long before the sun had time to peep between the inky clouds of the night sky, we had embarked on our journey to Pt Lenana (4985m), the third highest peak of Mt Kenya. We walked for a good four hours to the summit and then began our descent down Teleki Valley. The valley was picturesque and I paused a few times, to click mental photographs and preserve the scenes in my heart for posterity.
Day 7.
It was time to say goodbye to Mt Kenya, though not to the African hinterland. With a lot of good memories and revitalised spirits, we began our descent down the mountain and returned to our lodge at night.
Day 8.
This was the part I'd been most looking forward to - wildlife safaris to Lake Nakuru National Park and the Masai Mara Game Reserves. After a hectic week of rafting and trekking, we could now sit back and enjoy the feral delights of East Africa. After having breakfast, we drove past the northern part of the Aberdare Mountains and made our way down Rift Valley. On our way, we caught wonderful glimpses of the serene Lake Nakuru.
The previous day's safari had left me completely awed. But what lay ahead was even more awe-inspiring. After breakfast, we left for the Masai Mara Game Reserve, where we would be able to see wild animals in their natural avatar - completely uncensored. Until now, the kinds of phenomena I had only seen on television such as lions roaring, cheetahs chasing their prey, wildebeest migrating and elephants trumpeting so loudly that they send the birds aflutter - all these would now be visible in their unfettered ferocity.
Day 10.
We spent the day roaming around the reserve and driving down secret trails in our quest for the famed members of the Big Five (African lion, Cape buffalo, African elephant, African leopard and black/white rhinoceros). We were also privileged to see the Masai people in their traditional costumes and interact with them briefly. Seeing the quiet happiness of these tribes made me wonder about the correlation between riches and mental satisfaction. Perhaps, we had it all wrong.
Day 11.
We took our last look at wild heart of the African continent and left for Nairobi. I picked up some souvenirs for friends and family back home and with a smile on my face, I bid goodbye to the country that had filled my mind and soul with so much beauty.
Take me for an intrepid tour, Active Holiday Company. And the wildness in my soul shall also roam freely.
All photos in this post are licensed under Creative Commons. This post has been written for The Active Holiday Company's Intrepid tour to Thailand campaign.
Keep learning with Micromax Canvas Tab P666
- Learn to play the keyboard (I have already purchased one);
- Learn advanced French (I know the basics);
- Learn to cook (I love food).
The Micromax Canvas Tab P666 promises seven hours of video playback which bodes well for my dreams to become adept at le francais. I can translate words in real time, listen to the nuances of their pronunciation and sign up for courses online with this fantastic device. Maybe I will even get to go to France and practise my French for real! There, the Micromax Canvas Tab P666 will make it easier for me to click selfies in Parisian streets with its 2 MP front camera.
As for my third and most important New Year resolution, it's high time I learnt to cook! Not for anyone else but for myself. And for someone who adores food (especially baked goods), this skill is a must-have. The Micromax Canvas Tab P666 will be my partner in fulfilling this resolution by allowing me to refer to the recipes of my choice with its 1.2 GHz Intel Atom processor and Intel graphics media accelerator. In fact, I have a feeling I may come up with more New Year resolutions with this tab in hand.
So, to sum up, this is what the Micromax Canvas Tab P666 offers:
- 1.2 GHz Intel Atom Processor
- 1 GB Ram
- Fast and responsive with Intel hyper-threading technology
- 20.32cm WXGA IPS Display
- Intel Graphics Media Accelerator
- 800 x 1260 pixels screen resolution
- Sleek design, 7.9mm
- Smooth glass finish
- 5 MP rear camera
- 2 MP front camera
- 1080p HD video playback and recording
- 3G connectivity
- 4400 mAh battery
- Talk time: 15 hours
- Standby time: 325 hours
- Browsing time: 6 hours
- Android Kitkat 4.4.2
- Memory expandable up to 32 GB
- Intel Burst Performance Technology for Better Performance
- 16M Colour Depth
- Available in magnetic black and puritan white
- 7 hours video playback time
Why men started shaving.
I've often wondered about this. When and how exactly did we evolve to this perception that clean-shaven equals well-groomed? After all, warriors and rulers of yore prided themselves on their flowing beards and twirling moustaches. So, I decided to some research on the subject and here, I present my findings.
If you've seen or read about Ice Age, you know how excruciating that long winter was. It practically redefined the word 'long'. And to add to the woes of those poor Stone-Age men, the ice-cold water would get trapped in their abundant beards (they didn't have razors back then and perhaps, their women liked them that way) and make them all the more susceptible to frost-bite. That was one time the women were thanking their stars for their naturally beard-free faces. Back then, men used seashells like tweezers, as per cave paintings dating back a 100,000 years. Later, the blokes realised that they could use flakes of obsidian and clam shell shards like razors (only difference is, they weren't branded 'Gillette' back then).
Women in those pre-historic ages craved for buttery-smooth skin as much as the women of today. And boy, were they creative. Ingredients like arsenic, quicklime and starch served as the building blocks of the first depilatory creams. It was nothing short of shaving alchemy! The advent of agriculture brought with it, the knowledge of how to use metal, and thereby, metal blades.
We saw how weather conditions forced men to go hair-free in the Stone Age. The Egyptians demonstrated once again, how weather can play spoilsport for beard lovers. The hot climate in the Egyptian empire forced them to bathe several times a day and shave using depilatory creams and pumice stones, so that the sweat trapped in hair wouldn't serve as a breeding ground for pests and diseases. Excavations have revealed the use of rotary blades and circular bronze razors (ah Gillette, you missed another branding opportunity). The Egyptians held cleanliness in high regard and began to see facial hair as a sign that you were either a barbarian, mercenary, criminal or slave (not exactly anyone's ideal image-building exercise). When you do see a pharaoh with a beard, remember that it was false. Yeah, they apparently felt false beards were better and fuller, not to mention disposable.
The next culprit in this story is none other than Alexander the Great. This fabled conqueror was a major fan of hair-free faces. And if he liked shaving, all of Rome liked shaving. Very soon, barber shops became as esteemed as the CCDs of today and shaving began to be associated with wealth and status.
Yes, you guessed it right. The next entity to sign shaving's fan book was the Holy Church. In 1054, the Catholic Church parted ways with the Eastern Orthodox and the Western church leaders felt that shaving was a great way to stand out amidst the Jewish and Muslim clergymen. This became part of the canonical law in 1096 and beards were banned altogether by the Archbishop of Rouen. The women followed suit, inspired by Queen Elizabeth I's penchant for clean-shaven eyebrows (they thought long foreheads were beautiful).
May we have drum rolls for the first sort-of, kind-of razors! French inventor Jean-Jacques Perret invented the world's first safety razor. Much to the chagrin of barbers, he managed this by attaching a wooden guard to a normal razor. Later, the modern Sheffield straight razor included a rotating guard that also served as a handle. Thereafter, many inventors tried to improve upon the design but they ran into various difficulties. Guess who came up with the first modern, double-edged safety razor? His name starts with G.
King C Gillette took eight years to perfect the razor and by 1906, he was selling 300,000 razors a year. The brand's success story continues till date, and now we have everything from electric to multi-blade razors. Hell, women have a line of razors of their own! Think about all this the next time you shave. And you'll know it's not just an everyday act but one of great significance, whose secrets have been passed down through the ages...
Want to go to Paris? Click here.
This post is a part of #WillYouShave activity at BlogAdda in association with Gillette
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| Wikimedia Commons |
Women in those pre-historic ages craved for buttery-smooth skin as much as the women of today. And boy, were they creative. Ingredients like arsenic, quicklime and starch served as the building blocks of the first depilatory creams. It was nothing short of shaving alchemy! The advent of agriculture brought with it, the knowledge of how to use metal, and thereby, metal blades.
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| Wikimedia Commons |
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| Wikimedia Commons |
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| Wikimedia Commons |
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| Wikimedia Commons |
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| Wikimedia Commons |
Want to go to Paris? Click here.
This post is a part of #WillYouShave activity at BlogAdda in association with Gillette
Dream-borne in Melbourne
Everything was wrong with my life when I moved to Melbourne. But everything was right with the city. And who can remain immune to the charms of such sunny perfection? Not even tragedy-hit me. An inspiring story of a woman who lost everything; yet reclaimed her life in the city that welcomed her with open arms.
This image of Melbourne's skyline across Victoria Harbour was all I knew of the city before I packed my bags and turned my back on Mumbai. I remember thinking - why is everything so blue? It looked like a happy place - full of sunshine, smiling faces and bustling cafes. Yet, I was sure the clouds of my despondence would somehow manage to eclipse even a city as bright as this.
The morning after I received the news of my family's death on the Mumbai-Pune expressway, my manager at the IT consultancy firm I worked at, summoned me into his cabin. The wondering eyes of my colleagues fought to catch a glimpse of what they imagined to be a tragedy-stricken face. But their vulturous instincts found nothing. That call from the police control room, telling me that a drunk truck driver had smashed into my parents' car had left me numb. I did have a fleeting feeling of being left out. I'd passed on attending the wedding of our family friend Meera, in favour of a project at work that was nearing its deadline. Maybe I should have stopped being a model employee and gone along instead. At least then, I wouldn't have to be the one hearing those cold words, "There were no survivors." I realised that my boss's lips were moving. "Melbourne is the most livable city in the world, Anoushka. You're bound to love it there." "Melbourne?" Varun sighed. "You haven't been listening to a word I said, have you?" He sighed again. "I want to transfer you to Melbourne. We need someone with your skills there and I believe you need the change of scene as well." Okay, wait. "How long will I have to remain there?" Varun shrugged. "As long as it takes. It's a long project." He seemed to sense my hesitancy. "Come on Anoushka, anyone else would jump at this chance! But I'm keen on sending you there." So this was it. Goodbye to Mumbai and all the fond memories it held for me. Not a permanent farewell perhaps, but nevertheless, one with no potential end in sight. "All right, I'll go," I said. Varun was relieved. "That's great Anoushka! We'll begin the formalities rightaway."
I gathered that I had around a week before I flew over the ocean to a city with immense promise, according to every single person I asked. "Are you kidding me?! Melbourne is the best city ever! I lived there for a year when we were newly wed and you should have seen those Victorian era buildings on Collins Street. They were straight out of a Charlotte Bronte novel!" Pankti, my colleague gushed.
"You're moving to Melbourne? Are you serious? Do you know that it's the world's ultimate sports city? You must go to the National Sports Museum! And go watch a match at the Docklands Stadium if you can!" Sahil, my jogging buddy advised.
"I'm so jealous! Public transport just isn't the same here. Riding those trams with the one you love on a rainy evening - it's just about the most romantic experience one can have. You must try the free Heritage Trams on the city circle route. Oh and the restaurant trams!" Mahi, my cousin shrieked over the phone.
Wasn't there a single thing to dislike about this city? I rather viewed it as a challenge. There had to be something I could use to feed the sadness inside me. The house was silent and watchful, as I swept my belongings into the largest travel bags I could find. I had no idea I had accumulated so much, in the twenty five years that I had lived. I discarded anything that reminded me of mom, dad or Spunky, our dear cocker spaniel. My cell phone was full of messages and missed calls from friends, cousins and people I hadn't spoken to in ages. I switched that off as well. I began to look forward to the 12 hours of solitude I would enjoy, several feet above the sky, as I left behind the city that had been home ever since I was brought into this world.
This was the kind of view I woke up to, as the pilot announced that we were beginning our descent into Melbourne, Victoria, Australia. There didn't seem to be too many Asians on the airplane. I hoped the city wasn't racist. "On holiday?" a friendly voice next to me piped up. It was the youngish gentleman in spectacles who had politely receded behind his book on modern architecture for the entire journey. But it seemed the vow of silence had now been broken in favour of some socialisation. "No. I'm moving here," I replied. I didn't think Melbourne was going to be racist after all. Yet another reason to allow myself to be happy in this city. But how could I? "I'm Mason." I shook his hand, warm unlike my chilly ones. How did he manage that, with the icy-cold air conditioning around us? Mason's blue eyes and light brown hair shone in the Australian sun that now filtered in through the unshuttered windows. "Anoushka." "Like the singer?" I was surprised he knew of Ravi Shankar's talented daughter. "Yeah, even the same spelling," I smiled. "Are you from Melbourne?" Mason nodded. "Yeah. It's a great city." "I've been hearing that everywhere," I said, slightly amused. "Tell me five reasons why you love the city." I've found that enumerating things always lends clarity to one's thoughts. "Five? I could tell you a thousand," Mason laughed. "But all right. Number one - we have our own dance move - the Melbourne shuffle!" He had to be making that up. But Mason actually stood up, and showed me a preview of the famed move! I clapped. "Okay, that's pretty cool. Four more to go." "It's the one place where you can still easily get a vinyl record." "Really?" When I was little, mom and dad loved playing Abba on our vinyl record player. And there was always something comforting about the little scratches and imperfections in tune. I wrote the strangest poems, under the hypnotic lull of those rotating discs. "Third, you can buy flowers at the post office! Not to mention, a lot of other cool stuff as well." "Post offices here must be pretty rich then," I quipped. "Fourth, Melbourne has the most quirkily named free community festival ever." I waited with bated breath. "Moomba!" "Hahaha! You have to be kidding me." Moomba sounded like the first utterance of a baby with its mouth full of cerelac. Mason shook his head. "I'm serious! It's awesome and it means 'let's get together and have fun' in the Aboriginal tongue. And that's exactly what we do!" "Okay, that was four. Still another one to go." People were starting to disembark from the airplane, and suddenly, I wished we'd begun this conversation sooner. "That would be my favourite reason - we have a bay that you can loop around in a single day! Begin at Melbourne and wind through the wine districts of Mornington, then head down to the historic towns of Portsea and Sorrento. Thereon, jump or drive on the boat to Queenscliffe - from there you’ll be back on home ground: Melbourne via Geelong."
That sounded like something I could try during my first weekend in this golden city. I said goodbye to Mason and made my way out as quickly as possible, to avoid the awkwardness of a forced and an extended conversation. He looked like he wanted to say something more and it occurred to me later, that perhaps he'd been looking for a way to stay in touch. The only thing I seemed to be able to stay in touch with, however, were the haunting ghosts of my loving, colourful past. Mom and dad had never been abroad and I couldn't help wondering what they'd have thought of the majestic facade of Flinders Street Station or the peaceful interiors of St Paul's Cathedral. I couldn't help wondering if they might have enjoyed the vibrant cultural scene at Federation Square, National Gallery of Victoria and Melbourne Concert Hall more than me.
My house overlooked Princes Bridge on Yarra River and in the wee hours of the morning, I'd often wake up the gentle splish splash of a boat coursing down the river.
The sound of the breeze and the water calmed the storm that came rushing back, as soon as I left the safe confines of sleep. As images of the gruesome accident returned, I'd focus instead on the moving streams of chic Melbournians making their way to the stunning edifices that lay on the other side of Princes Bridge. One of them housed my new workplace and I was not too pleased at the prospect of being confronted by so many strangers.
Dressed in a tweed coat over my blue pantsuit to combat the cool winter air, I stepped into my new office. Over the course of the day, I heard the words "This is Anoushka and she has joined us from India" so many times that they stopped making sense to me. I saw too many faces; heard too many names to be able to remember even a single one correctly the next day. But I did make one friend - Carla, who was my designated 'buddy'. Carla was friendly and easy to talk to, and I took to her immediately. I even told her about Mason. "Why on earth did you run away like that?!" Her sea green eyes widened in surprise. I sighed. "I don't know. I'm not in the best frame of mind for anything like that, right now." "Then you've come to the right place," Carla beamed. "No one can stay depressed in Melbourne." Over the next few weekends (and a few weekday evenings), she set out to prove exactly that.
Work kept me occupied during the day but my lonely dinners at home brought my spirits back to where I had left them in Bombay. On one such night, I stumbled upon a rib-tickling collection of short episodic videos about Melbourne, with my favourite comic duo Tanmay and Rohan playing host.
I have a special soft corner for penguins and the coming weekend, Carla had promised to take me to see the penguin parade at Phillip Island Nature Park. I learnt that the island contained 32000 little penguins! It might as well be called Penguin Island. But this was only after I watched Tanmay describe the penguins as having a very strange sound, only to realise that he had mistaken penguins for pigeons! That particular night, I did not feel lonely at all.
On Friday night, Carla and I, along with a few folks at work, headed to King Street for 'a wild night of revelry', to quote my friend who seemed to have gone quite insane. From their descriptions, King Street sounded a bit like Paris' Pigalle to me, complete with strip clubs and questionable shops. However, the club that we went to - 'Inflation', turned out to be surprisingly fun. The DJ was belting out some of my favourite rock numbers and the crowd was refreshingly well-behaved. I spent some time dancing with my colleagues and soaking in the cathartic beats of the music. But soon enough, I felt my moroseness returning and I headed to the bar to spend a few moments alone in my own company. "One scotch and soda please." "I'll have the same." I recognised that voice even in the midst of all the music and chatter. "Mason!" He was smiling down at me, his eyes bluer than ever. "Painting the town red already?" "Yeah, my colleagues insisted." We spent three drinks talking about my time in Melbourne so far. It wasn't until I told him that I realised how much the city was starting to grow on me. I didn't think about the accident more than once or twice a day; earlier I couldn't go more than five minutes without being devastated by the memories. "Have you gone ballooning over the vineyards at Yarra Valley?" "Not yet. I'm going to see the penguins tomorrow though!" Mason was delighted, and told me all about the excitement of watching little penguins emerge from the water. "Allow me to take you to Yarra Valley next weekend then." I couldn't possibly say no. Besides, I didn't seem to have a single friend apart from Carla. That was all this would be - a friendship. "I'd like that," I smiled.
I spied my colleagues approaching over the horizon and braced myself for a round of awkward introductions. "Hey! You must be Mason." Clara piped up. I blushed while Mason asked with a laugh in his voice, "You told her about me?" I nodded, wishing I had sent Mason packing a little earlier. "Yeah I recognised you from the deep blue eyes and hair the colour of wheat gleaming in the sun..." sang Clara. She was really going to have it from me. Mason was laughing outright now. "That's flattering..I think. All right, I'll see you next weekend then Anoushka." I loved the way he pronounced my name. And I was so glad he was leaving. "Bye!" I called and spent the next couple hours dodging a gazillion queries from my work mates.
The next morning dawned early and bright and Carla and I set out for Phillip Island. "We'll also take the seal watching cruise," Carla told me excitedly as we coursed along a smooth highway that was a dream to drive on. "But I want to see the penguins first!" Penguins are my first love. Perhaps it began with my favourite cartoon show in my childhood - Pingu. Whatever the reason, that moment when I saw the first one waddle out of the water under the sparkling early-morning rays - it felt like the culmination of a life-long desire. It was so beautiful that I could not take my eyes off from the penguin; not even to click a picture.
We spent the day nestling shy koalas at the Koala Conservation Centre, hand-feeding wallabies, kangaroos and pelicans, waving at a colony of 16000 fur seals at Sea Rocks from our boat and trying to get good photographs of exotic Birds of Paradise. I don't think I'd ever seen so many new and wondrous birds and animals in a single day before. In the evening, completely exhausted from all our adventures, Carla and I lay on the beach, swigging beer and munching on Chiko Rolls (an Australian version of a chicken and vegetable roll that I quickly grew fond of). "That was a good day wasn't it?" Carla asked. I nodded. "You didn't think about..what happened, did you?" I was quiet. Indeed, I hadn't. Lately, the possibility of coping with life even despite all that I had lost, had begun to seem within reach. "What's Melbourne doing to me, Carla?" I asked. "It's working its magic - like it always does."
At night, before letting the beautiful penguins and seals of Phillip Island invade my dreams, I decided to watch another Tanmay-Rohan video in the 'Come alive in Melbourne' series.
Carla must have been pretty exhausted showing me around the city all the time. And I was glad to give her a breather on the weekend before Christmas. At 5 AM on Sunday morning, the alarm clock awoke me from a dream where I was reliving the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra last evening at the Myers Music Bowl. There has been a healing quality to the urgent strumming of the cello and the sweeter, poignant notes of the violin. Every instrument had taken me on a different inward journey but all the routes had led to the same sweet destination - pure joy. I hadn't thought that this place still existed inside me, in spite of everything my heart had sustained. The loss, the despair, the absolute hopelessness - all of it receded in the magical onslaught of the music. Later, I had even spoken to flutist Sarah Beggs to tell her how much her music had touched my soul. Carla and I had ended the night with a walk along Melbourne's famed Hosier Lane, which lived up to its reputation as one of the most artistic lanes in the world. I had been keen on visiting it ever since I saw Tanmay and Rohan go gaga over it.
Precisely at 5:30, Mason called up to tell me he had arrived to pick me up. In panic, I tossed things I thought I'd need into a rucksack and rushed out the front door, ready for an adventurous day of hot air ballooning over Yarra Valley and the Dandenong Ranges. "Do you like old steam engine trains?" Mason asked me, after I had strapped on my safety belt. "I love them." "Then we'll take a ride on the Puffing Billy Steam Railway. It's Australia's oldest steam railway and the ride will take us through lush glades and gullies filled with ferns." "I never thought any city could be so beautiful," I smiled. "And do you find the people beautiful as well?" Mason teased. He certainly fit the description, in his mint green shirt and casual chinos. "They are," I agreed without any embarrassment. Melbourne had been good to me. Suddenly, I realised I had Varun to thank for all this good fortune. I ought to tell him that. All though we'd been in touch, I'd only ever spoken to him about work.
Mason had shown me pictures such as the one above, from his previous trips to Yarra Valley, which he said was his favourite spot in Melbourne. Yet, nothing could prepare me for the panorama of lush green valleys, forests and vineyards, rows and rows of which, defied description. "Hope you're not falling asleep," Mason smiled down at me, as I gazed and gazed at the impossibly beautiful world around me. "Not a chance. I'm a morning person and even if I wasn't, this sight would wake anyone up!" "So, you're going to be staying in Melbourne for a while, are you?" Did he want me to? Butterflies began to dance in my stomach all of a sudden. And I noticed for the first time, how our hands rested right next to each other, just a few inches shy of what I knew would be electrifying contact. "I guess so. This project isn't going to be wrapped up in a hurry," I smiled. We were 2000 feet above the ground and the only sound I could hear was that of my own breath. What I had gone through was still tragic but its hopelessness was somehow diminished by the expansiveness of the sky around me. With such majestic nature by my side, there was nothing I couldn't conquer. In that moment, I really believed it.
After a sumptuous picnic lunch in the eclectic villages of Dandenong Ranges, we went for a ride on the Puffing Billy Steam Railway. Childhood memories of riding on the toy train at Matheran with my family came rushing back and I realised with a jolt, that I was actually happy to think about my family. That overpowering pain that usually accompanied any thought of them - it was missing. "Is something wrong?" Mason asked, as I stared into the distance, hardly able to comprehend how much the city and its delights had helped me heal. I found myself telling him about everything that happened before my arrival in Melbourne. Mason listened silently, gazing out from the open-sided carriage, as we rode from Belgrave to Gembrook. Finally he turned to me, and caressed my cheek - an action that took me quite by surprise. "You're a brave woman, Anoushka." He didn't say much else and it was good. The last thing I wanted was to hear empty consolations and niceties.
The next day, I was scrolling through my timeline on Facebook, suddenly filled with updates from my new Australian friends and I came upon a song that touched my heart for some reason. Perhaps it was the lyrics:
Come in my thoughts
Stomach in knots and then
Steps, grass, gate, door
Oh, you perfect stranger
Or it was the fact that the song took the singer through some lovely spots in Melbourne. It was titled 'From St Kilda to Fitzroy' and Amanda Palmer's lazy voice made me want to try singing it myself.
My heart told me to get up and see what St Kilda was all about and I decided to follow the impulse. I made sure to add the song to my mobile phone playlist and then it was time to say hello to the mid-morning colours and scents outside my door. I saw the smiling facade of Luna Park at St Kilda and walked around, enjoying the laughter and shrieks of the happy children. I heard the 'dings' of trams at Fitzroy -a sound I'd now become used to. And I had lunch at a streetside cafe, the taste of my food mingling with the comforting sounds of the street to create a multi-sensory symphony.
And in that moment, the words of Amanda Palmer's song rung really true:
Anoushka never left Melbourne. Her company offered her a chance to return after the completion of her project, but Anoushka decided to stay on. She eventually married Mason and together, they now run a travel company that allows visitors to discover why Melbourne is indeed the most livable and gorgeously vibrant city in the world.
This post has been written as a part of the 'Come Alive in Melbourne' initiative by Tourism Victoria and Indiblogger.
1. Goodbye, Mumbai
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| Melbourne Docklands and the city skyline from Waterfront City looking across Victoria Harbour (Wikimedia Commons) |
The morning after I received the news of my family's death on the Mumbai-Pune expressway, my manager at the IT consultancy firm I worked at, summoned me into his cabin. The wondering eyes of my colleagues fought to catch a glimpse of what they imagined to be a tragedy-stricken face. But their vulturous instincts found nothing. That call from the police control room, telling me that a drunk truck driver had smashed into my parents' car had left me numb. I did have a fleeting feeling of being left out. I'd passed on attending the wedding of our family friend Meera, in favour of a project at work that was nearing its deadline. Maybe I should have stopped being a model employee and gone along instead. At least then, I wouldn't have to be the one hearing those cold words, "There were no survivors." I realised that my boss's lips were moving. "Melbourne is the most livable city in the world, Anoushka. You're bound to love it there." "Melbourne?" Varun sighed. "You haven't been listening to a word I said, have you?" He sighed again. "I want to transfer you to Melbourne. We need someone with your skills there and I believe you need the change of scene as well." Okay, wait. "How long will I have to remain there?" Varun shrugged. "As long as it takes. It's a long project." He seemed to sense my hesitancy. "Come on Anoushka, anyone else would jump at this chance! But I'm keen on sending you there." So this was it. Goodbye to Mumbai and all the fond memories it held for me. Not a permanent farewell perhaps, but nevertheless, one with no potential end in sight. "All right, I'll go," I said. Varun was relieved. "That's great Anoushka! We'll begin the formalities rightaway."
I gathered that I had around a week before I flew over the ocean to a city with immense promise, according to every single person I asked. "Are you kidding me?! Melbourne is the best city ever! I lived there for a year when we were newly wed and you should have seen those Victorian era buildings on Collins Street. They were straight out of a Charlotte Bronte novel!" Pankti, my colleague gushed.
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| Collins Street (Wikimedia Commons) |
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| Tom Wills statue at the Melbourne Cricket Ground (Wikimedia Commons) |
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| Melbourne is home to the world's largest tram network (Wikimedia Commons) |
2. Hello, Melbourne
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| The Melbourne skyline as viewed from the Rialto Observatory (Wikimedia Commons) |
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| Yarra River running through Melbourne (Wikimedia Commons) |
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| Hamer Hall (Wikimedia Commons) |
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| Princes Bridge (Wikimedia Commons) |
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| Source: Flickr.com (Licensed under Creative Commons) |
3. Goodbye, sadness
Work kept me occupied during the day but my lonely dinners at home brought my spirits back to where I had left them in Bombay. On one such night, I stumbled upon a rib-tickling collection of short episodic videos about Melbourne, with my favourite comic duo Tanmay and Rohan playing host.
I have a special soft corner for penguins and the coming weekend, Carla had promised to take me to see the penguin parade at Phillip Island Nature Park. I learnt that the island contained 32000 little penguins! It might as well be called Penguin Island. But this was only after I watched Tanmay describe the penguins as having a very strange sound, only to realise that he had mistaken penguins for pigeons! That particular night, I did not feel lonely at all.
On Friday night, Carla and I, along with a few folks at work, headed to King Street for 'a wild night of revelry', to quote my friend who seemed to have gone quite insane. From their descriptions, King Street sounded a bit like Paris' Pigalle to me, complete with strip clubs and questionable shops. However, the club that we went to - 'Inflation', turned out to be surprisingly fun. The DJ was belting out some of my favourite rock numbers and the crowd was refreshingly well-behaved. I spent some time dancing with my colleagues and soaking in the cathartic beats of the music. But soon enough, I felt my moroseness returning and I headed to the bar to spend a few moments alone in my own company. "One scotch and soda please." "I'll have the same." I recognised that voice even in the midst of all the music and chatter. "Mason!" He was smiling down at me, his eyes bluer than ever. "Painting the town red already?" "Yeah, my colleagues insisted." We spent three drinks talking about my time in Melbourne so far. It wasn't until I told him that I realised how much the city was starting to grow on me. I didn't think about the accident more than once or twice a day; earlier I couldn't go more than five minutes without being devastated by the memories. "Have you gone ballooning over the vineyards at Yarra Valley?" "Not yet. I'm going to see the penguins tomorrow though!" Mason was delighted, and told me all about the excitement of watching little penguins emerge from the water. "Allow me to take you to Yarra Valley next weekend then." I couldn't possibly say no. Besides, I didn't seem to have a single friend apart from Carla. That was all this would be - a friendship. "I'd like that," I smiled.
_(4).jpg) |
| Melbourne in the night (Wikimedia Commons) |
The next morning dawned early and bright and Carla and I set out for Phillip Island. "We'll also take the seal watching cruise," Carla told me excitedly as we coursed along a smooth highway that was a dream to drive on. "But I want to see the penguins first!" Penguins are my first love. Perhaps it began with my favourite cartoon show in my childhood - Pingu. Whatever the reason, that moment when I saw the first one waddle out of the water under the sparkling early-morning rays - it felt like the culmination of a life-long desire. It was so beautiful that I could not take my eyes off from the penguin; not even to click a picture.
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| Source: http://www.visitmelbourne.com/Regions/Phillip-Island |
At night, before letting the beautiful penguins and seals of Phillip Island invade my dreams, I decided to watch another Tanmay-Rohan video in the 'Come alive in Melbourne' series.
4. Hello, happiness
Carla must have been pretty exhausted showing me around the city all the time. And I was glad to give her a breather on the weekend before Christmas. At 5 AM on Sunday morning, the alarm clock awoke me from a dream where I was reliving the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra last evening at the Myers Music Bowl. There has been a healing quality to the urgent strumming of the cello and the sweeter, poignant notes of the violin. Every instrument had taken me on a different inward journey but all the routes had led to the same sweet destination - pure joy. I hadn't thought that this place still existed inside me, in spite of everything my heart had sustained. The loss, the despair, the absolute hopelessness - all of it receded in the magical onslaught of the music. Later, I had even spoken to flutist Sarah Beggs to tell her how much her music had touched my soul. Carla and I had ended the night with a walk along Melbourne's famed Hosier Lane, which lived up to its reputation as one of the most artistic lanes in the world. I had been keen on visiting it ever since I saw Tanmay and Rohan go gaga over it.
Precisely at 5:30, Mason called up to tell me he had arrived to pick me up. In panic, I tossed things I thought I'd need into a rucksack and rushed out the front door, ready for an adventurous day of hot air ballooning over Yarra Valley and the Dandenong Ranges. "Do you like old steam engine trains?" Mason asked me, after I had strapped on my safety belt. "I love them." "Then we'll take a ride on the Puffing Billy Steam Railway. It's Australia's oldest steam railway and the ride will take us through lush glades and gullies filled with ferns." "I never thought any city could be so beautiful," I smiled. "And do you find the people beautiful as well?" Mason teased. He certainly fit the description, in his mint green shirt and casual chinos. "They are," I agreed without any embarrassment. Melbourne had been good to me. Suddenly, I realised I had Varun to thank for all this good fortune. I ought to tell him that. All though we'd been in touch, I'd only ever spoken to him about work.
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| Source: http://www.visitmelbourne.com/Regions/Yarra-Valley-and-Dandenong-Ranges |
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| Source: http://www.visitmelbourne.com/Regions/Yarra-Valley-and-Dandenong-Ranges |
The next day, I was scrolling through my timeline on Facebook, suddenly filled with updates from my new Australian friends and I came upon a song that touched my heart for some reason. Perhaps it was the lyrics:
Come in my thoughts
Stomach in knots and then
Steps, grass, gate, door
Oh, you perfect stranger
Or it was the fact that the song took the singer through some lovely spots in Melbourne. It was titled 'From St Kilda to Fitzroy' and Amanda Palmer's lazy voice made me want to try singing it myself.
My heart told me to get up and see what St Kilda was all about and I decided to follow the impulse. I made sure to add the song to my mobile phone playlist and then it was time to say hello to the mid-morning colours and scents outside my door. I saw the smiling facade of Luna Park at St Kilda and walked around, enjoying the laughter and shrieks of the happy children. I heard the 'dings' of trams at Fitzroy -a sound I'd now become used to. And I had lunch at a streetside cafe, the taste of my food mingling with the comforting sounds of the street to create a multi-sensory symphony.
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| St Kilda Beach by Sarah Worthy (Licensed under Attribution-ShareAlike)
Licensed under
Attribution-ShareAlike.
|
Then no more talk inside
my head
Delicious feeling like I'm dead
For just a second, shutting up
A fire shock all in my gut
Delicious feeling like I'm dead
For just a second, shutting up
A fire shock all in my gut
In the evening, I made my way to Fitzroy Crossing to see the river flowing there. There was not a single soul in sight and in that solitude and silence, I think I may have found myself again.
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| Fitzroy River (Wikimedia Commons) |
Congratulations, Mohit Somani!
 Which of these places would you want to visit in Melbourne and why? Leave your answer in the comments section below, and the best answer will win a gift/shopping voucher worth Rs 500, courtesy Tourism Victoria and Indiblogger. I'll be accepting answers till 4th Jan, 2015. Do follow my blog so you can stay updated about the winner! All the best, and here's wishing that you get to experience the magic of Melbourne. P.S.: In return for this and a lot of hugs from my side, it would be great if you could view my travelogue and click on the heart button next to 'follow' and 'comment'. Do share if you like it. Also check out Airbnb if you want Rs 1583 off on your first trip to an exotic locale anywhere in India and the world. Thank you! |
This post has been written as a part of the 'Come Alive in Melbourne' initiative by Tourism Victoria and Indiblogger.
Fear nothing.
Mountain Dew has asked to write about the risks I have taken to overcome my fear and claim victory. I could write about overcoming physical fears such as the time when I went for a monsoon trek to Nakhind and found myself on a long, slippery precipice with nothing to hold on to and no option but to advance ahead. My victory would have looked like something like this:
Or I could write about the far more difficult and insidious fears that take hold of us inside our minds and keep us from realising our full potential. Once, I was afraid of talking to people I didn't know. I was afraid of making friends and opening up. I was afraid of making presentations to large audiences. My hands would shiver and my voice would come out like a squeak. I'm sure this sounds familiar to quite a few of you. We've all been prisoners of fears that refused to relinquish their hold on us. But that's the thing - it's always within our power to pry off the claws of even the most persistent fears and break free from them. It may be difficult and it may take time but it's never impossible. Because we are bigger than any of our fears.
I spent my two years at junior college feeding my fears and believing that I would never be free of them. But when I entered graduation and opted for the vibrant course of bachelors in mass media, I decided that enough was enough. I forced myself to talk to every single person in class. I pushed myself to participate in every event I came across. I became part of committees and activities and I never wasted a single moment doing nothing of value. Soon, I found to my surprise that people actually liked me. And they weren't as scary as I had imagined. They weren't demons waiting to devour me, which is what a lot of shy, timid people feel. The chronic fear of approaching strangers and having conversations with them became a thing of the past as I began experimenting with journalism. I began to travel to different places on my own and thus began my journey of self-discovery. I rose above my fears and I realised how silly it had been, to allow myself to be enslaved by mere figments of my imagination. Fears are nothing but that. They feed on our misconceptions and memories of unfortunate events and start creating a pseudo-reality that is far from the truth.
If you're afraid of something, you'll likely be telling yourself that everyday. Your thoughts will resonate the supposed reasons for your fear and their repetition will lull you into unquestioning belief. But all you have to do is arrest their useless whispers and take action to prove them wrong. Get out of the realm of self-defeating thoughts and go do that very thing that scares you most. In the Mountain Dew video, Arya does not climb the mountain in one second. Neither does he accomplish his goal without several challenges along the way. But when you treat every journey from fear to victory as a game that is enjoyable and riddled with exhilaration, the challenges turn into doable milestones rather than insurmountable obstacles. All the great masters have taught us about overcoming fears but it is of course easier said than done. That first step - it'll take everything out of you. But it'll be worth it. So worth it.
'I think fearless is having fears but jumping anyway'. - Taylor Swift
For more on rising above your fears, visit https://www.facebook.com/mountaindewindia.
Want to go to Paris? Click here.
This post has been written as a part of the 'Rise above fear!' initiative by Mountain Dew India and Indiblogger.
Or I could write about the far more difficult and insidious fears that take hold of us inside our minds and keep us from realising our full potential. Once, I was afraid of talking to people I didn't know. I was afraid of making friends and opening up. I was afraid of making presentations to large audiences. My hands would shiver and my voice would come out like a squeak. I'm sure this sounds familiar to quite a few of you. We've all been prisoners of fears that refused to relinquish their hold on us. But that's the thing - it's always within our power to pry off the claws of even the most persistent fears and break free from them. It may be difficult and it may take time but it's never impossible. Because we are bigger than any of our fears.
I spent my two years at junior college feeding my fears and believing that I would never be free of them. But when I entered graduation and opted for the vibrant course of bachelors in mass media, I decided that enough was enough. I forced myself to talk to every single person in class. I pushed myself to participate in every event I came across. I became part of committees and activities and I never wasted a single moment doing nothing of value. Soon, I found to my surprise that people actually liked me. And they weren't as scary as I had imagined. They weren't demons waiting to devour me, which is what a lot of shy, timid people feel. The chronic fear of approaching strangers and having conversations with them became a thing of the past as I began experimenting with journalism. I began to travel to different places on my own and thus began my journey of self-discovery. I rose above my fears and I realised how silly it had been, to allow myself to be enslaved by mere figments of my imagination. Fears are nothing but that. They feed on our misconceptions and memories of unfortunate events and start creating a pseudo-reality that is far from the truth.
If you're afraid of something, you'll likely be telling yourself that everyday. Your thoughts will resonate the supposed reasons for your fear and their repetition will lull you into unquestioning belief. But all you have to do is arrest their useless whispers and take action to prove them wrong. Get out of the realm of self-defeating thoughts and go do that very thing that scares you most. In the Mountain Dew video, Arya does not climb the mountain in one second. Neither does he accomplish his goal without several challenges along the way. But when you treat every journey from fear to victory as a game that is enjoyable and riddled with exhilaration, the challenges turn into doable milestones rather than insurmountable obstacles. All the great masters have taught us about overcoming fears but it is of course easier said than done. That first step - it'll take everything out of you. But it'll be worth it. So worth it.
'I think fearless is having fears but jumping anyway'. - Taylor Swift
For more on rising above your fears, visit https://www.facebook.com/mountaindewindia.
Want to go to Paris? Click here.
This post has been written as a part of the 'Rise above fear!' initiative by Mountain Dew India and Indiblogger.
If no child ever went hungry
If no child ever went hungry
Ever felt the insistent, unyielding pangs
Of twisting, demanding, hunger
If no child ever went to bed, with a hollow stomach
Full of unfulfilled hopes and desires
And dreamt dreams replete with bowls and bowls
Of nourishment, tragically out of reach
If no child's life was ebbed away into silence
Sparks vanquished by the lack
Of something as basic as food?
PM Narendra Modi has unveiled the Swaccha Bharat Abhiyan. What we need now is a Bhook Mukti Abhiyan - a movement to ensure that every morsel of food in the nation reaches its rightful destination. The government's midday meal schemes haven't quite worked miracles. The food is often poor in quality and sometimes even causes food poisoning among unsuspecting kids. Along with the elimination of wastage, we need to focus on two things - complete intolerance for poor quality and malpractices, and freedom from the archaic, irrational school of thought that one can beget any number of children, irrespective of one's economic status and it will always be a good thing. No, it's not always a good thing to bear children. Children come with responsibilities and if these cannot be fulfilled, it is better that the poor take the right birth control measures to avoid the trauma of feeding yet another mouth.
Well-nourished children and educated children go together. Because education teaches us to deliberate before we act and education makes us aware of right and wrong; even if we choose not to heed the advice of our rational minds.
There is also a global perspective to this problem. Developed countries have a surplus of food, while developing and under-developed countries struggle to fulfil the basic needs of their burgeoning populace. Let's take food to where it is required and let's not think about monetary gains while we do so. Let us all develop a social conscience that makes it impossible for us to stomach an innocent child's hunger.
Want to go to Paris? Click here.
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