This weekend’s trip to Seetha Nadi was great fun. Short, of course. 2 back-to-back 12 hour bus journeys would have been back breaking to say the least, but our enthusiasm levels made it bearable.

My camera died in the raft. We got stuck at one point. Water gushed in. Everything got wet including the camera, which stopped functioning after making uncomfortable noises. It served me well through the years (not the SLR, or I would have been heartbroken!) so was rather crushed. Anyway, no pictures from my side.

So instead of doing a travelogue this time around, I decided to write a bit about the folks I met during this trip. I only knew one person when I started off. And another one, via email exchanges.

But one of the fringe benefits of these trips are the interesting people you land up meeting and befriending! Some you will probably never meet again. But with some, the bonds strike instantly and you know that you’ll meet again, sometime, somewhere.

So here’s presenting the seven musketeers, in no particular order.

Apra

A blessing in disguise he turned out to be! He had that one vital quality missing in all of us – the ability to speak in Kannada. For many miserable moments on Friday afternoon, I tried communicating with the bus fella, trying to convey to him that I wanted 8 tickets to Hebri. If we had continued the conversation, we might all have been on a bus to Kerala! Apra stepped in and took over efficiently :) A photographer to boot, he was found in many vertically and horizontally challenged positions after our rafting expedition. I am not sure of the pictures he came up with but we applaud his flexibility.

Ansh

Quiz question: Is it possible for someone to be in Bangalore for 5 years and not be on a single trip anywhere? The answer apparently is yes, as I discovered with Ansh. However, this Delhiite has not wasted any time discovering places outside India. Now, discover India, I say!

Another enthu photographer, Anshu was accompanied by his flashy Olympus camera. He also gave us demonstrations of his cool gadget while we drooled (you know how we women drool over anything that has many buttons!).

G-Gal

She first signed on for the Honnemardu trip, but it didn’t work out. G-Gal was determined to make it for this one and sms’d me from Chennai saying she was coming! Trouble was afoot when we boarded the bus and after about 5 minutes she wailed, “Are we there yet?” And then more trouble when she told me that she would feel more secure if she was belted in. Like in an aeroplane? Aha. G-Gal hadn’t done bus journeys for a while. Nor had she roughed it out in the jungle with basic accommodation and cleansing facilities. However, after this first encounter with living on the wild (and rather basic) side, she promises to go on more trips. We are counting on that G-Gal!

Wernie Boy aka Gypsy aka the Worm (actually, you can call him anything and he’ll respond)

What can I say about Wernie boy? Both G-Gal and I pounced on him the moment he boarded the bus – he is such a pouncable character. He thought we were the ‘evil twins’ after that and kept giving us suspicious looks throughout the bus journey. When he got a chance to stop eating BJ’s head, of course. Werner belongs to that school of thought that believes in speaking, irrespective of whether someone is listening!

Also, very impatient, Wernie Boy kept asking, What’s the plan? What’s the plan? This when it was obvious to everyone that it was raining cats and dogs and pretty much all our options like trekking and walking were impossible given the conditions. I didn’t kill him because I sensed he was genuinely asking the question. And not just acting dumb :>)

BJ

Moving on to the Texan who, when we were about 2 hours from the destination inquired politely if we could take a plane back. The bus journey obviously had proved a little too much for him. However, BJ has been in the country for about 3 weeks and one must say that with his initiation into the India season with the monsoon, I was wondering why he didn’t look more harassed. Even G-Gal managed to look more flustered at times at the lack of luxuries! And then when we were all seated on the raft, all ready to battle the elements, he asks rather curiously: “What river are we on, by the way?” And then a little later: “And we’re still in Karnataka?” Geography lessons for BJ, anyone?

The Prince

But we never quite discovered what he’s the Prince of! This gentleman has done 3 treks in his 4 months in India (Anshul’s jaw dropped to the bus floor at this point!). He’s adapting quite well to the Indian climes and when asked if he liked India and Indians, he said (looking in Wernie’s direction). “Yes, until now!” Poor Wernie. I think he got too much of our verbal bashing!

Ann ‘T’

A common friend introduced us knowing our common love of traveling. Ann mailed me one day asking if I’d like to do something over a weekend and thus plans were hatched. We zeroed in on the rafting plan. She asked if it was okay as she didn’t know how to swim! I said, all the more fun!! Ann T, thankfully turned out to be calmer and more serene than G-Gal and moi, who don’t usually know when to stop talking and blabbering (and laughing loudly!). Can you imagine 3 women talking at the same time? Recipe for disaster, I say!

And that’s me!

No! Yoko Ono didn’t come rafting with us folks - it’s only me!

Last year, end June, I had my first experience with river rafting down Seetha Nadi.

It was so much fun that I’m planning to do it again this weekend. It’s only for a day on Saturday. A 22 kms stretch that promises to be both exhilerating, fun and tiring! We’re looking for another 3-4 three people to join us, so if you’re interested do contact me at anitabora 5 at rediffmail dot com, pronto!

Someone caught in the reflection of a mirror

A couple of weekends ago, one early and not so bright morning Lavannya, Sabir, Vasu, Anu and I packed our photography equipment and went to the Majestic bus station, City Market and Tipu Sultan’s Palace.

We roamed around the busy bus station, the crowded Sunday bazaar (where you can buy almost everything!). Piles and piles of what seems like junk everywhere. At least that’s what it looks like. On closer inspection, it turned out to be useful stuff like nuts, bolts, screw drivers, mirrors, old cameras and stuff you wouldn’t see anywhere else. Vasu even picked up some Tamil movie cassettes at a bargain price!

We then went to Tipu Sultan’s Palace (my first visit). It’s quite a grand name for a smallish structure, but interesting, never the less. I was more fascinated by the temple in the Palace compounds.

The rays of the evening sun filtering through a bare tree. This is in the compound of Tipu Sultan’s Palace

Some pictures from that morning in this Market Scenes album.

Five women.

One got the wine all the way from France. And guzzled it like it was going out of style. We helped too, I must add.

One took a break from few months old baby and guzzled the vodka like that was going out of style.

One got us caramel custard, which we polished off quickly. And had to keep assuring her fiancé that she was only having some girlie fun…

One taught us some really cool Coorg dance steps. We will soon be testing them at some fancy nightclub in town.

And me? I was just happy that I had 4 lovely women for company and conversation.

What happens when you put five women together with a few bottles of good wine?

Ah, we shall, leave that to your imagination.

After hectic email exchanges and discussions, we decided to have a cosy gals only night at my place on Saturday evening. And what ‘absolut’ fun it turned out to be!

Needless, to say, I had an awesome time.

We need to do this more often, ladies! :)

(How I survived French class, “le jour après”, will be the topic for another blog post.)

Kiss me out of the bearded barley
Nightly, beside the green, green grass
Swing, swing, swing the spinning step
You wear those shoes and I will wear that dress

Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight
Lead me out on the moonlit floor
Lift your open hand
Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance
Silver moon’s sparkling
So kiss me

Kiss me down by the broken tree house
Swing me upon its hanging tire
Bring, bring, bring your flowered hat
We’ll take the trail marked on your father’s map
- Lyrics from Kiss me, Sixpence None the Richer

Swamped with work the last few days, and listening to one of my favourite Sixpence songs, I need to take a break and clear my senses. Sometimes I get sentimental. Only sometimes, but this is one of those times and therefore the uncharacteristic post.

It has been a while since I’ve taken a moment to think about the year gone by. Sometimes, I look at life whizzing past me and I know that I should slow down and take a moment to rest. Meditate. Think. Reflect. And do all those serious things :)

What a year it’s been. Like a roller-coaster ride, up and down and up and down again. And yet, the downs never reached the depths it did back around September of 2003.

When I left my job. When I decided to take a break. When I decided that I’d had enough. That I’d been too patient for years and years. That I wasn’t living my life the way I wanted to. That I needed to change some things or else get swallowed in the depths of despair that I’d probably never have the strength to get out of.

When, every moment, I questioned what I’d done wrong.

And then one day I decided to tear away. From a city I’d spent 6 years in. From the familiar faces and sights. And begin life anew. A fresh lease of life as they say. I was unsure, I was a little apprehensive. Despite it all, I was optimistic too.

And what a year it’s been. Landing up in a strange city where I knew just 2 people was difficult. A city, that people scared me about saying, it was so different from Mumbai that I would hate it. Thankfully, what people said didn’t apply to me.

I look around now at all the beautiful people in my life today and I know I have to thank each one of them. All you bright, talented, generous, lovely, sweet, loving, adorable, inspiring (I could go on with the adjectives!) people who make me want to be better and to try harder. You know who all of you are. Bloggers, photographers, classmates (in French class), travel bugs (or those I’ve met on my various escapades), badminton buddies, office mates, colleagues and everyone else I’ve bumped into in this short span of a year.

I have to be strong, I tell myself constantly. But hey, once in a while, in my weaker moments I do wallow in my sentiments. I allow myself to hope again, to feel thankful, to get teary-eyed, to feel loved and to feel blessed that I found life again.

And understand what Alanis Morisette was trying to say in her song, Thank You.

I think to the times that I despaired that I had lost it all. When I’d questioned what I’d done wrong.

And then today, standing at a totally different crossroad in my life, I feel that I must have done something right.

(Dedicated to all the people I’ve had the good fortune of meeting over the past year and who have [mostly unknowingly!] inspired me to become a stronger and happier person. Thank you).

A series of explosions struck London’s Underground mass transit system during the height of morning rush hour. Here are some links on the blasts:

• Wikipedia
• Technorati
• Google News
• BBC UK

Steph has some more links.

To Steph, with whom I had spent some nice times discovering Kerala in Feb 2004. And who I will hopefully get a chance to catch up with again sometime later this year.

And to Ashok H, back in Mumbai, who was one of the earlier bloggers, but shut down his blog and promises to resurrect it soon.

Happy Birthday wishes go out to both of you :)

Unlike friend Anumita, who has made a habit of losing cellphones, my bad habit is losing umbrellas.

I have a very bad relationship with parapluies.

I have simply lost count of the numbers I have lost over the years. They are like the ball pens (where the hell do they go anyway?!).

In the six years I spent in Mumbai, I must have easily lost 3-4 every monsoon. In fact, in my last year in the city, I stubbornly decided not to buy yet another umbrella. So, there I was in the pouring rain, getting drenched to the bone. A small consolation was that when it pours, the umbrella can do precious little to protect. And so, I refused to buy an umbrella.

Even if I did, look at the odds – I’d leave it in the rickshaw, the local train, the office. Hell, I’ve even lost umbrellas which have slipped from my fingers (and I didn’t even notice). How absent minded can one get?

But giving this a little more thought, I have gathered that it’s probably not a case of absent mindedness. It’s a case of some bad karma I have with this very useful but crafty rain shielding device.

I actually love umbrellas. They’re colourful and add a dash of colour in the bleary rain drenched landscape. They come in different shapes and sizes. And different forms. And you can fold them in a dozen different ways. And of course, their usefulness cannot be underestimated.

For example, during a recent trip to Honnemardu, I noticed one of the team members, carrying this huge umbrella. I wondered to myself, “We’re going to get wet in the water anyway, why would we want an umbrella?” But I did realise it’s usefulness much later when we were dying for some dry skin and dry clothes in between the wet spells and Kripa’s nice big umbrella came into really good use. (Kripa, I am taking all my evil thoughts back :-)

Anyway, I finally relented and got myself a cute red and white striped umbrella the other day in Madikeri while on the way to attend this wedding. Of course, it hasn’t gotten opened yet.

I am now waiting for an auspicious moment that the heavens will open up and I will get a chance to use my cute little red parapluie.

But where the hells are the rains in Bangalore, I say?