“Clean” Fridays

Going on Lent has shown me another side of what living life without the consumption of alcohol and/or non-vegetarian food could be like. I never thought my life revolved so much around the two. Not that I’m fond of alcohol or that alcohol is the central aspect of my social life, or even life, for that matter. What I really do care about is food, without a doubt. And I’ve realized that I absolutely refuse to pay large sums of money to consume vegetarian food outside unless I’m eating something that is better than the vegetarian fare I get at home. On a daily basis, we’re vegetarian 95% of the time, so really, I don’t think I’m missing out on much. Bleargh.

Therefore, I’ve been spending time doing things I’ve always wanted to do but didn’t do because my Friday evenings ended up being spent in the company of friends over food and that beer for friends + that occasional rum+iced tea in case I felt like a drink. Have you tried that combination? One small (or whatever portion fancies you) of dark rum dunked into a glass of lemon (only) iced tea. It’s most mind-blowing and refreshing all in one. I will always be grateful to my ex-boss for introducing me to this beauty. Also, it was his way of initiating me into the world of guilt-free consumption of alcohol. :P Which reminds me, I heard the most sad news ever: that the production of Old Monk rum has been stopped indefinitely. I was most heartbroken. I hope they start right back. Till then, I’m left without a choice of poison. I don’t really know if that’s a good thing or not. But I can live.

I’ve spent almost 98% of my life, here, in Bangalore. I’ve passed this lake so, so many times as I’ve grown up over the years. Some of it just hasn’t changed while some of it has, as is usually the case with a lot of things. While I have visited it a couple of times, I haven’t really spent much time at this lake because I don’t really stay close by and it hasn’t been a place I really, really wanted to go to. But over the past few days, I’ve wanted to go for a walk by it and given how gorgeous Bangalore’s spring-summer collection of 2014 is, I figured it would be a good idea to give it a try since I couldn’t really go have mince on toast and my rum iced tea.

It was a beautiful experience. Water has this enigmatic way of magnetizing you. It calls you towards it and also has this sometimes eerie way of telling you to keep away. I say this because I am afraid of water though I really wish I could let go to it and enjoy it for what it is. The lake, per se, isn’t as stinky as it used to be, which means the municipality seems to be doing a pretty okay job at keeping it clean and tidy. There’s a jogger’s lane around the periphery of it which made me feel grossly inadequate and unhealthy what with people (and kids) running everywhere. I reminded myself that I was here for a different reason and that sort of made it okay for me. There are trees aplenty and plants and birds, as well. It takes me back to my childhood days when I would pass it on my way to school every day. I’m always reminded of the army camps that live/work there and, who, I guess, use it for various purposes as well, if not own it. There’s a weird sense of identity you get from that lake, an identity that makes you feel you’re Bangalorean just like how Hyde Park may give one the identity of being a Londonite, I guess?

An evening by a lake is something I’ve never really done, here, in the city. So I’m glad that’s check-marked off my list of things to do, here, in Bangalore. Couple that with hot chips, egg hakka noodles (sigh, when will you be here, Easter?) and episodes of Frasier in bed. That’s a Friday well sorted. Plus I feel like I’m 35+ because I didn’t spend my Friday night out, dancing to (Honey Singh’s) music in a club somewhere after, something that people my age would (still) easily do. Just saying. And here’s what I’ve been listening to on loop. Who said I can’t access chaar botal (four bottles of) vodka while on Lent? ;)

Belonging

My posts seem to be getting more existential over time. Can you blame me?

There are days when I wonder why I’m here, what my purpose is and why I have to run this race which doesn’t appeal to me. Competing mindlessly is not appealing. And this race seems to be just that, perhaps tilting more towards the mindless bit than the competition bit in itself.

But keeping away from the negativity of it all, it’s moments like these that remind me why I’m here; perhaps if not for a race, then just to be blessed to see what beauty really is. Beauty that belongs to the universe and no one else.

I feel humbled every single time. And everything else ceases to matter.

There’s magic. There’s magic everywhere. And I think this is the universe’s way of reminding me that I’m a part of this magic my world thrives on. For that, I’m ever so grateful.

Sun-chaser. That’s who I am.

And always will be. :)

More magic to all of you!

PS, pardon me for the blurry images for they were taken from a moving car, with the wind in my face and eyes, barring the last one where I jumped off my then parked car to click before entering my office. Thank you. :)

To And Fro

If there’s one habit I’m trying to inculcate this year, it is to write more regularly; sometimes because I want to and sometimes because I think it is absolutely necessary to. I guess it’s on the same lines as how important it is for a singer to do their riyaaz every day and for a sportsperson to be physically active on more than just a regular basis. I’m trying to see it like that because, well, I’m no seasoned writer and I have no stories or books to write just yet, but because I love writing too much and I realize there is just so much I’m missing out on because I don’t seem to document them enough.

Of course it would be a tad too insipid and teenager-ish of me to jot down each and every single detail of my day, every day, for you. I’m sure none of us wants that sort of reporting. But I’ve begun realizing how important it is to be able to put down one’s thoughts, feelings, experiences and expressions with as much ease. I find it hard to do so on a regular basis and I’ve got to give somewhere. I’m going to try. I’m going to keep reminding myself. And I’m going to try some more. Wish me luck.

In light of what I just said, I must give my innumerable thanks to power naps. Why? Because, yes, apart from me being a completely random weirdo (which you guessed right), and because I love them dearly, I had so much to tell you about the weekend that passed and since it was so hectic and writing today would just about make my post to the not-so-stale-chunk, that power nap snapped me out of a budding migraine and allowed me to be here. Writing about the last three days tomorrow would just not be okay, especially after all that I just began my post with.

A friend and I were long thinking of visiting one of the city’s most popular parks. Apart from being something one must do in order to refresh one’s soul (and lungs), it’s something that seldom strikes us as a thing we must do for various reasons. We always pass this park when we’re out on weekends especially and we’ve always wanted to just go for a stroll in it but it never happened until this past weekend.

It’s amazing what the combination of a walk, nature, friends, the setting sun, the sound of birds at dusk, rustling leaves and a multitude of childhood memories can make you feel like. There are moments when the experience of all of them put together shuts the world out; where passing traffic out in the distance stops making a difference, as if muted by more beautiful sounds that rustle out your life’s book you’re reading and experiencing all at once. There were people around, but there was no intrusion. There were children but we felt just as young. There were bamboo thickets bustling with crow families having their evening baths in the park’s brooks. There were memories of picnics; school day trips complete with a straw hat, a hanky pinned in a triangle on our pinafore, a tiny green Frooti tetra pack which was too much to finish back then, and of course, a pack of Yummies in mint or chaat masala flavours. There were waves of time lapses where you wondered how far back it was that you were physically a child but still had some bit of that time left in you because you were here, today, and still felt the same sense of awe.

My friend and I were perhaps the only ones who made it for the impromptu toy train ride as the only “adults” unaccompanied by minors. It was strange and it was a ride down memory lane. It was a weird mix of everything; old and new, past and present, past and future, present and future, the twinge of my childhood gone by and the current phase of life I love so much, of reminiscing and creating new memories.

I guess there’s no right time to embrace the moments that have passed. Yes, rounds of beers and old school music do the trick most often, but it’s nice to forget time and let go. It’s lovely to have reality take you back apart from the regular, cliched way of having memories disembark your time machine over peals of laughter and sighs at pub tables and faded (but still sensitive) crushes. There’s no good time to go back. And there isn’t a better time either.

(Coincidentally, it took me some rather sharp whistles from a guard on duty to realize that I was in a playground for kids aged 10 and below. Clearly, I wasn’t looking. Or thinking. For once.)

Experiments

There’s always something about weekends. They always have that element of surprise in them, even if you did spend its entirety in bed doing absolutely nothing, which is just the most legitimate thing to do on a weekend. Or otherwise on any other random day, for that matter. There’s a bit of give and take, but in the end, when you reflect back, it’s almost always in fondness and a certain amount of satisfaction of having felt exactly what you wanted to feel at the end of it, irrespective of what you did to achieve that feeling. Almost always. Unless, of course, you hate your work week that much which makes you go into a nasty weekend withdrawal or unless you didn’t reward yourself with that one thing you must have on weekends, which going by the most favourite trend, are those extra hours of absolute sloth and guiltless sleep.

My Saturday, post a rather nasty scare on V-Day, was one that oscillated between the beauty and perfect ambiance a Jhumpa Lahiri novel mandates (especially on a beautiful weekend) and a few experiments in my most favourite place at home: the kitchen. I don’t know whether it had anything to do with the diaspora or whether I just wanted something new to look forward to for my Saturday evening tea, but I decided to veer into the direction of Gujarati food; a genre(?) that contributes so generously and magnificently to the Indian cuisine.

I have, of course, never ventured into that area because it intimidates me, to very simply put it. As awesome and vibrant as I think Gujarati (and Rajasthani) food is, I keep a safe distance from them because I think they’re too complex for my very meager skills to handle. But I came across khandvi and by the looks of it, it looked pretty approachable. And so I decided to make khandvi. Apart from the (pretty decent) set of dhoklas I made back as a kid with readymade dhokla flour, I think I did just fine. This involves zero fat unless you want to go all vegan on it and say that yoghurt contains fat. But that apart, there really is no use of oil in this dish. While it is so simple in its cast of ingredient characters, this dish requires quite the amount of physical labour. And I think because it was just too darn healthy for me plus the work out that happened while making it, I went a bit overboard with the serving of oil for the seasoning khandvi requires. Health food and me just do not go. It’s a confirmed fact. Amen.

So there it was. In between lots of reading and pondering over just how beautifully well Jhumpa Lahiri writes, I experimented in the kitchen. And khandvi made an entry into our home. And it was all yellow. :)

Keeping in line with just how surprising weekends can turn out to be, or life in general, if you wouldn’t just be such a darn control freak, all I have to say is that this weekend was just as memorable in a beautiful, beautiful, heartwarming way. Sometimes it just isn’t written until you write it. And sometimes it just isn’t real till you read what’s already been written. :)

My Love Story

I love that I can define my love story with pictures because that’s just it with pictures, they’re everything they are and anything you want them to be, as well. I leave the interpretation of my love story to you.

Here’s to lots more feeling and a lot less thinking/talking at least for today.

Here’s wishing your love stories brim with the very best of everything you want.

Big love.

Adrenaline All Through

So, if you haven’t known me and still don’t, here’s something about me you must know: I’m not that into sports. For those of you who’ve had the (immense) pleasure of watching me play and flail my hands around and struggle and then eventually fail, will be testimony to the fact. I love sports and I love watching games even though I might know 0.872347234 of the sports world. But that’s okay because I’m willing to learn and understand and see what a sport is for. I just may not really play it because okay fine I’m very competitive and I’m not a good loser and that automatically categorizes me as a bad sportsperson. So there you have it. Sports and me gel pretty decently, but from a distance. Outdoor sports, i.e.

And keeping that in mind, I never really know what championship/tournament’s going on when and where and with whom and who ranks where on what list. Really. I know nothing. Therefore when I first heard the word ‘Sochi’, I frankly thought it was a person. Yes, you may judge me. Suddenly this ‘Sochi’ started trending and I still didn’t really bother looking it up. Until I realized what it was all about because my brother, who is an avid sports freak, had the games on a couple of days back. I definitely need to be less ignorant. Ah, what would I do without Twitter my brother? :D :*

I write to say that I’ve been hooked, line and sinker. I cannot stop watching these amazing, amazing athletes. I cannot help marvel at them. I cannot help feel that adrenaline. I cannot help cheering them. Of course, I will also do the football-ignorant-blonde(or not) thing and cheer for the hottest footballers when the World Cup starts, but we’ll keep that for later. I cannot help but feel competitiveness effervesce in me. I cannot help slapping the chair and consequently, my thigh, because the former option isn’t feasible anymore.

I only hope to watch many more of these games hope that I haven’t missed out on too many of them. I’m currently addicted to this particular sport/game and I can safely say the same for the brother as well because we wait for it in quite some anticipation.

Speed Skating – Sochi 2014

Sang Hwa Lee from South Korea racing for her Gold – Ladies’ 500m

Michel Mulder (Netherlands) grabbing his Gold – Men’s 500m

There is just so much beauty in sports. I’m no one to comment on what it takes to be a sportsperson, but I sure do know that they’re extremely admirable in every single way. And what do I say about the magnificence that is the human body and mind? Really?

Do watch them for that shot of adrenaline. I think I lose calories just watching them. Speed skating airs 7:30pm IST on Star Sports.

Travel

I’m going to attempt the impossible because I’m crazy and believe that sometimes, it’s good to take a jab at the impossible. Because sometimes it’s good to feel superhuman that way. I don’t even know if that was a joke. Anyway, the Impossible I’m planning to take a bite of is of course something that is extremely dear to me – travel.

How can I sit and write about travel in one sitting? How can I talk about something so innate, so deep, so philosophical, so vast, so enigmatic and so beautiful without prior thought/research or even planning? I don’t know. I’m.just.going.to.do.it because I feel like it. Hop right on and let’s take this journey together, shall we?

Travel is this song to me right now because it hits the spot, completes the picture and makes me feel so alive, all puns intended.

Have you heard this one before? I think it’s brilliant and so refreshing in every sense of the word. It makes me want to throw every caution to the wind, let my hair loose and just dance in a Phoebe sort of way, you know? It’s that breath of fresh air the music scene needed. Really.

Getting back to travel… my first ever memories of travel are that of supremely long train journeys from the southern part of this country to the northern part; from an adopted home to my real home. That equation is different today and I don’t know where I belong, but that’s what it was to me back then. Bangalore was the adopted home. Those train journeys are stories fit for marvelous novels meant for a dreamer, a lover and a poet. Train journeys meant meeting new people, sharing that space with them for numerous hours over which food, games and conversations of anything under the sun, happened. Also, those journeys have been notorious for germinating secret and not so secret love stories. That’s where my memories of travel stem from. Trains. And there’s a reason why the Indian Railways holds such a special place in my heart. Why they started a beautiful story in my being and I’m ever so grateful for that.

Travel, to me, hasn’t been about going places. Travel is more a journey that begins in my head, me heart and my soul. It’s the idea of taking off and exploring new experiences as they occur. It’s about opening those doors and windows just so you can be touched in the lightest, deepest and loveliest way. It’s about learning, understanding and breathing…just breathing and feeling so alive.

Have you ever felt freedom? Freedom in your heart, mind and soul? Freedom that takes you by your hand to places you cannot fathom, only to realize you got there by yourself, on your own, by your own terms. It’s that moment which leaves you breathless in the best possible way. It’s that moment when you take a cycle and head out completely unaware of your destination. It’s that moment when you look up your flight tickets. It’s that moment when you submit your visa papers and die of anticipation. It’s that moment when you feel the thunder of a train’s engine enter your platform. It’s that moment when you huddle over cups of tea at 5am in the middle of nowhere and burn your tongue. It’s that moment when you’re speeding during take off. It’s that moment when your shivering hands open your passport and find your visa inside. It’s just that simple moment when you know you’ve made it, done it and seen it through on your own terms. Or giving snails in tea gardens kisses, as it were. :P

Like I said, more than it ever being about the destination, it’s been about the journey itself because that’s where the magic happens. Perhaps this is why travel is more of a philosophical concept than anything else. Travel is a mixed bundle of free-spiritedness, love, anxiety, freedom and the complete elation of making that move and having arrived. I’m not a fan of traveling alone and don’t believe I need to do it to feel completely “liberated” in that sense. It’s in my head and I could feel as liberated with the most amazing company and feel completely trapped (by my million fears) when traveling alone. It’s just as simple as that. And travel is perhaps one of the (very) few ways in which letting go becomes so easy and doable.

And that’s just about what travel means to me right here, right now, in about…erm…8 paragraphs? Here’s to feeling alive in every sense of the word.

There’s so much to hold on to just by letting go.

London Diaries – 2

I thought I’d write this sooner because every day has new things unfolding and I feel like I’m a bit behind schedule here. But then I remind myself that I am on holiday and that updates can wait a bit. I just feel like there’s so much going on and that I’m missing a bus of sorts because I’m afraid I won’t remember as much as I can. This is where little notebooks come in handy but honestly speaking, I’m not one to stop midway and take a book out and write. I don’t like breaks in an experience because I can do justice to neither my writing nor my experience. So I try and take in as much as I can and then let my mind take its course as and where it pleases. I think that works better for me.

In the meanwhile, I must also say that since I do not have my laptop with me and since I do not enjoy wording blog posts on my phone as much, that there would be delays but that I hope to keep up. Also, the past few days have been pretty full because my ever so busy brother took a few days off for me and wouldn’t that be a shame if I spent those days in front of my laptop? He’s back at work today and so I feel a little less guilty sitting in front of this screen and typing away.

I left off at what could only have been a terrible nightmare of a transit, except that it was 589347584% real. This post is more about pictures because ever since I could, and much to the annoyance of my brother, I’ve been almost rabid, clicking pictures away. And I’m certainly not embarrassed about being such a tourist! Yolo, man! YOLO! So yes, let’s get into this post now because I swear to God, it just gets prettier and I’m very excited to share all this madness with you, my dear reader.

The last update saw me passing out after what could only have been the best take-off ever. And so pass out having declined my post midnight snack (a wrap, for those of you who must know) and alcohol, I did. I’d geared up well and promptly fell into as comfortable a sleep as can be on an economy seat. It wasn’t bad, I promise. And then because my body realized it was time to wake up, wake up I did. And here’s what I found.

A pitch black sky! Darn it, Babs, you’re out of India and you’re certainly not headed to Singapore (I work Singapore time, to contextualize), I exclaimed! And then I did the obvious. I looked down. And there it was. Dubai! And no, I wasn’t hallucinating. I’ve never stepped out of my country before so I’d obviously never seen Dubai, forget recognize it from thousands of meters above at night, that too.

But this sealed the deal. The unmistakable palm-shaped island made me leap with joy. So there, I’d seen it, I wasn’t wrong and I was delighted. Simple things like spotting Dubai from an aircraft make me happy. Lol! Next to Dubai was what I can only deduce to have been Abu Dhabi. But I was too lazy to click it. I was more intrigued by that palm-island thing. So now that the traveler in me was satisfied, I passed out again because there was no early morning cab to catch for work and there certainly was no sunshine outside. Yes, the sun and I share a relationship that’s too deep to talk about. Anyhoo, another bout of now India time madness, I’m sure, woke me up and I looked down to find this pretty city/country. Don’t ask me, I don’t know. However, if you do know, please do tell me.

Maybe this was Muscat. Or Kuwait, for all I know. It was spectacularly lit up, brighter than Dubai and had these very pretty extensions, which I assume were roads or highways into either the desert or the sea, I’m not sure.

There were quite a few extensions such as these and I found them to be pretty fascinating. I love the window seat, I can tell you that much. Window seats are my life on any journey. Now that we’ve cleared that out, Babska found herself asleep again. And the next time she woke up, she was grateful to see this because going back in time and seeing so much darkness does not make her a happy puppy.

I was, as it is very clear, seated towards the west because while the sun was rising, I got this fantastic view. There was the full moon keeping me company right from when I left Bangalore to now. The sun on one side, the moon next to me. And I’ll always be spellbound by the types and numerous colours that exist on this planet. I’m overwhelmed every single time. I had had my quota of sleep and was awake by now. My chin was firmly, but comfortably placed on my hand and my only point of focus was what I could see outside my window.

I was now curious to know where on this planet I was and so I switched on my flight system to get some of those much needed answers.

It was clear I was crossing the area of Brussels, Belgium, Luxembourg at this point and that it wouldn’t be long before I entered UK. It was a plum -55 degrees C outside and I was extremely thankful that I was inside the aircraft under my blanket under my warm clothes. I was being sarcastic about the plum temperature outside, by the way.

Before I knew it, here it was.

Here are images I managed to click of the English Channel through the thickish layer of clouds. I was inching closer and the captain announced that he would begin descending. I didn’t acknowledge my excitement because I was quite encapsulated still.

We were still crossing the channel when the captain began his descent (as seen on the wings). It wouldn’t be long.

And not long, it was. Signs of civilization down yonder made themselves present. And closer to me, they slowly started to become.

That’s the sure and steady river Thames right there. It turns out, after showing the photographs to my brother, that I’d clicked a picture of our home here in London alright. The weird white dome is O2 and we stay opposite that on the other side of the river’s banks. How coincidental!

I’m not sure which stadium this was, but I could imagine a game of Quidditch happen here alright! I had entered the space of witches and wizards! It was goooood!

So after dilly-dallying till we got our command/signal to land, the time to touchdown London had finally arrived.

And touchdown London, I finally did.

Say hello to Heathrow International, I certainly did!

There it was – a dream, an idea that germinated 7 months ago and brewed all along to finally come true!

London, I’d arrived.

Note: All photographs were taken with my cellphone on flight mode, because I’m extremely particular like that.

Teenage Crushing

I’ve been coming home after work every evening to a treat; a movie. I think I’m in a movie phase, alright. I’ve always loved movies and have always dreamed of making one. It still features somewhere on my bucket list and I hope to make it come true someday. Having said that, I must admit that I am, after all, not a movie buff. By buff, I mean, I’m not someone who makes a dash for the theaters at every release. Neither am I someone who can pride herself with knowing it all (not that anybody knows it all). And going by the genius ability I have to remember names and place faces to those names, I remember a whole lot of what I see (and sometimes don’t see). Even things like the colour of the third supporting actress’s slutty maid’s ring finger’s nail paint. I have an exemplary track record that way. Really.

And if you just believed that load, you and I need to talk!

Moving on, it’s been a mix of all that has featured in my list so far. I didn’t have a specific list as such. I just went by movies I’ve been wanting to see but haven’t seen, which are like 973246732456732872347 of them, but that’s another thing altogether. All I’m trying to say is that I don’t think I’ve watched so many movies over the past couple of years as I have these past few days. And before I dive into that, I must, MUST tell you about something movie-related that has been troubling me; in a good way I think.

I have been crushing on this man since…ah, I can’t even remember! I watched Django Unchained a couple of weeks back and I swear I haven’t been able to let go off him. No, I’m not talking about Quentin Tarantino, though we will get back to him in a bit. Here’s who. I fell for him here, in Django.

And here, in Inglorious Basterds.

Yes, the ever so amazing Christoph Waltz! The magnificent man! The great, awesome, supremely talented and ever so handsome Christoph Waltz! I swear he wasn’t much to look at when I first saw him in Django (I watched Django first). And I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen any performance of his before (I’m 0.000005% sure). But I do know that he would have stood out had I seen him earlier.

I love the man. I love his acting. I love his style. I love, love, love his line deliveries. I love his nuances. I love, love, love, love X infinity his language, diction and pronunciation skills. He just had my heart melt all over the floor. A man who speaks flawlessly and in so many languages is non-existent, at least among all the men I know. Sorry guys, he’s just in another league altogether. If you love languages and are anal about the way languages are meant to be spoken, just watch this man, will you? He just shoots the bar wayyyyy up there. And like I tweeted sometime back, his language/enunciation skills earn him a million brownie points!

*sigh*

He plays Dr. King Schultz, a German dentist and bounty hunter for practically all Django Unchained. And all I’m going to say is that Dr. King Schultz is a German dentist (with a wobbly toothed wagon) and bounty hunter you’d always want by your side.

And he plays Col. Hans Landa of the the Schutzstaffel (SS) under Adolf Hitler’s dictatorship in Inglourious Basterds. Even though he is non-Nazi under cover, he’s a Nazi colonel you just do not ever want to mess with.

Here’s a video I leave you with and if that isn’t enough to show you what I see, then listen to what Samuel L Jackson gotta say man!

*sigh*

More in a bit!

 

Thank you

Folks,

Babska’s Journey has touched a 100+ followers. And I’m speechless. Here’s a big shout out to you guys. You are amazing. You make me want to write more and be more crazy. You make me want to go all out and turn this place into a crazy Babska zone even more than it is. You inspire me in ways I cannot explain. Also, it’s the thought of you that makes me want to come back here even when I really don’t think I can. We all have those days or phases where words just do not come out no matter how hard we try. Well, you make me try harder. You make me write, save a draft, abandon it and try again till I’ve either torn my hair out or have something to put up here.

In short, you encourage me to do something I absolutely love doing. You make me want to write more. You’ve helped me express myself and in turn helped me grow as a person and a writer. Expression cannot happen in a vacuum and you remind me of that everyday. And for that, I am grateful because you make me realize that I have to write, even if it’s for my own peace of mind.

Thank you. Thank you for giving me my release. Thank you for the support. Thank you for being here. You are amazing. And even though I may not know you personally, do know that you and I are walking together to places unseen, towards stories untold, waiting to be discovered.

Big love! :)