The firsts!

Sometime back, I was having a conversation with a friend about firsts.. And someone once told me whatever you do for the first time stays with you forever.. 
Remember the time when you got your first bicycle? The first vacation with your friends? First time you got drunk? The first time you cooked? Maybe.. Maybe not.. But the feeling you get after doing something for the first time is unforgettable! Ask your parents about the first time you walked.. Your first day at school.. They WILL get nostalgic, trust me! Maybe they’ll have a picture of the little you standing, holding on to a wall!
What makes life dull is the routine.. Doing the same thing over and over again.. Try doing something different every day.. Something for the first time.. Don’t live a life based on a time table.. Go with the flow once..
It’s ok to bunk college once in a while.. Play hooky from work someday.. Miss your regular bus or train.. Make that journey that you always thought was crazy.. Take that route you always wanted to but you never could.. Eat to your heart’s content someday..
Or if you really wish to try, learn to play a musical instrument, learn a new language, get a hobby or maybe just.. LIVE!
You have a choice to live a life or wait for the end.. Forget the plans and let life take control once.. Give your crazy dreams a go! Take your chances!
So, what did you do for the first time today? 

The Life of a Nomad

I wish to be a nomad,
A vagabond, a traveller,
Take the unknown path,
Rest beneath the tree on the roadside,
And walk again..

I wish to be a nomad,
Make the journey, without a destination,
a journey without success, or failure,
A journey with joy and pain, laughter and tears..

I wish to be a nomad,
Travel through the sun, and storm,
Slow down, stop, fall asleep beneath the blanket of stars,
Feel the rain on my face, feel the wind ruffling my hair,
Stumble, fall, get up and move on..

I wish to be a nomad,
live in he moment, not in the future or past,
feel the sea waves on my feet,
wipe the sweat off my forehead,
And travel..

I wish to be a nomad,
where every moment is the next adventure,
where every moment is a new memory to cherish,
to breath the free air,
And wander till I breath..

The Fish Bowl

Was feeling lonely, sitting alone at home, when I saw the fishes in my fish bowl.. Multicolored, big, small, quick, slow.. Different fishes, but all in the same bowl.. It felt good to see them move around.. Feed them and see them run around, having fun… What purpose do they serve.. Just entertain the owner..?? Nah.. I dunno.. but there has to be some purpose for them..

Its then that my imagination caught up with me.. The world as a fish bowl and people as fishes.. Multicolored, big, small, quick, slow.. Different people, but all in the same world.. But what purpose is their life for.. What have they achieved till the end of their life?? How many people will remember them after their life??

A friend of mine once told me a very interesting story.. "There was a rich man who’s dog died.. And people came from all over the world to offer their condolences.. The man was sad but he also thought that he had a lot of well-wishers.. Then, one day that man died.. And only a handful of people came to offer their condolences.. and you know why.."

It’s just one life that we have.. and it’s either about the moments in your life.. or the life in each moment.. Don’t think what others think about you.. Coz, they really don’t… It’s up to you how you spend your life.. Coz, in the end, we are just fishes in a fish bowl.. Ready to be forgotten and replaced when dead..

The Sixth Sense

I was watching this movie called "The Beaver" the other day in which the lead character was so obsessed with a puppet in his hand that he had to cut his hand off to get rid of the puppet. It triggered off a series of thoughts in my mind - thoughts about me and the camera..

Recently, I was on a train coming back from work and I overheard a couple of guys appreciating the sunset. I could see what they were talking about. It was a very beautiful sight and you had to be there to feel it. But instead of being happy, I was annoyed. Annoyed because I did not have my camera to capture it.

And on watching the movie, I realized what I was actually getting into.

I was not feeling the moment.. I was just capturing it.. I was not looking at it now.. I saw it from the future.. I was not living the moment.. I was just turning it into a memory.. In the quest for pictures, I was loosing the "life" part of the moment..

A thin line separates passion and obsession.. And I was crossing that line.. I was so obsessed with pictures that the camera had become an extension of my body.. I barely left home without it, and if I did, I would keep looking at things and wonder "Damn! This would have made such a beautiful picture." I wandered off on my own not just because of the passion, but because of an obsession.. An obsession to show that I didn't need anyone around me.. So, although I got good pictures when I was on my own, the pictures are all that I had..

Just when I realized this, I set off from home leaving the camera behind, with just a pen and my diary, at 11 in the night.. And as I write this, I sit at a nearby garden, on the slightly wet grass, under a street light..

I realize that I have other senses besides sight.. I SMELL the fragrance of earth, wet by rains.. I HEAR a few people talking and someone was playing the guitar far away.. and a few people flaunting their vehicles by speeding them on the empty streets.. I FEEL the grass, soft beneath my barefeet.. I TASTE the tea at a streetside tea stall..

And I can SEE.. I see a full moon in the sky.. I see the flowers in the garden.. I see everything beautiful around me.. Though this time, I use my eyes and not the viewfinder..

In my obsession, I had forgotten about things that made me happy.. I frowned so hard in concentration that I had forgotten to smile.. I was left so overawed by something that could have made a great picture that I had forgotten to breath..

Its little things that teach a lot.. You can choose to learn or ignore.. There is no such thing as capturing a moment.. You just live a moment..

So, does that mean I give up photography? No.. I still love clicking pictures and it remains a passion.. But I have started learning to live a moment before I could remember it as a memory..

The sixth sense had struck me.. They call it... Common sense.

Eyes of the Beholder

There are many miracles happening in our daily life and we miss them just because we prioritize much minor things. And yet, we travel the world and lavishly spend time and money for witnessing the same miracles in a much more “sophisticated” environment. You actually miss the gold coz you were hunting for iron.

            It happened to me while I was wandering around on Brigade Road, on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. It was crowded as usual and I was searching for something significant among the crowd thinking about the pictures I could get of the beautiful buildings or even of Namma metro. While walking, I saw this guy taking pictures of a street-side beggar. Without throwing a second glance, I kept walking. But something about the first look at the “beggar” forced me to look back. On the second glance, I noticed that he was no beggar at all. He was an artist. He was painting. I was in awe of this person who was actually much more talented than most of the people in the crowd. And yet, he was there, sitting on the ground, working with so much ease as if he were having a cup of coffee sitting at home.

            I went back to have a look at his work and was awed by what I saw. Needless to say, the paintings were beautiful. I sat down next to him to have a bit of a chat. He said he only spoke Kannada. His name, as I figured out with my broken Kannada, was Manju. And he was painting for the past 15 years just like that, sitting on the streets. I got a few pictures of him and of his paintings.

But the most amazing thing about Manju was he was hit by polio on both his hands and legs and he used to paint using only his toes!!! And still, he managed to paint better than most of us could ever do using our hands. He sold his paintings at just Rs. 25 per painting, and there were people who would throw down some cash thinking he is just another beggar. He picked up the cash carefully, but effortlessly, using his toes and put it in a small tethered bag. I observed him and his work for a while, till a small crowd started to gather around us. I took the cue, said a small good-bye which he returned with a smile on his face. I left the place with my mind full of thought about this man.

            We crib about the smallest of problems we face. How much can we learn from this man! He has to fight daily to survive, and he does.

           We might come across so many such people who have to fight, not to earn a living, but to be alive. However, we ignore these people coz they don’t publicize their problems and we do not understand the language of silence.

Life throws challenges on every path. It’s up to you to take it as an obstacle or an opportunity.

"Ek nayi raah, ek dastaan hai zindagi,

Har pal ek naya maqam hai zindagi,

Ladkhadakar uthna seekhaati hai yeh,

Ladkhadakar sambhalneka naam hai zindagi,

Raahein ajnabee, humsafar gair hai yaha,

Har kadam ek naya imtehaan hai zindagi,

Tum chalo to raahein khud hi ban jaati hai,

In raahon par chalne ka naam hai zindagi,

Ek pal pyaas to ek pal jaam hai zindagi,

Har pal ek naya maqam hai zindagi.. "

A Memory Called Bangalore (Bengaluru)

I have been trying to write this for a long time now.. It has been difficult to come back home, knowing that I will be missing a lot of things in Bangalore. All the crazy acts, all the stupidity, the smiles, the tears.. They are all a part of this beautiful memory.. A memory called Bangalore..

The feeling of leaving Bangalore did not sink in till I was alone in the bus, travelling back to Mumbai.. I sat there, on my own, looking at the raindrops sliding down the bus window, but not really paying attention to them.. I was using the windows as a screen to play the slideshow of pictures of the two years gone by.. The window started getting blurred and I realized that it was not the raindrops outside blurring my vision, but the tears in my eyes were.. The feeling of jumping off the bus and running back 'home' was so overwhelming.. I felt like I had just woken up from a beautiful dream.. 

I realized that sometimes, it feels good to keep dreaming 'coz if the dream comes true, you don't have anything to dream about.. 

I was in love with this city which had given me the best years of my life.. 

I learnt a lot from Bangalore.. Everything from the daily chores to new languages, photography to travelling, getting along with the crowd to standing out of it and playing the violin and the guitar.. 

How I miss the tea at 3 AM on the terrace, walking on the streets at 1 am singing at the top of my voice and so many acts of craziness.. 

So many little crazy dreams were fulfilled in these two years.. Jumping off the train at an unknown place, dancing on the streets, travelling in a forklift are just a few... 

And finally, the best of the lot were the friends that I made in Bangalore, responsible for making these two years the best of my life.. I won't like to write down the names coz I am afraid I might miss out someone.. You taught me to say 'yes' to the moment and made me realize that I might not be able to do it again!!!

But all along, I knew at the back of my mind that I had to come back.. Someday.. 

The path was always there.. It was up to me to take it or leave it.. It was just like the time when I had to come to Bangalore.. I was not strong enough to start the journey.. But I got stronger as I started the journey.. 

I will miss this place.. I will miss my friends.. I will miss this memory.. A memory called Bangalore

Old-fashioned

                “An empty mind is a playground for thoughts.”

                While playing a friend's guitar, my mind wanders back to the childhood days.

                Those were the days when a vadapav came for 3 bucks and 3 of them would suffice to treat a groupd of 10! The days when Saturdays and Sundays meant cricket for the entire day and ice golas after that.. The imli ki golis and chatar matars.. The days of summer, diwali and Christmas vacations.. The days when we didn’t need cell-phones to call out friends –Just shout out their names.. And bicycles used to get us to any corner of the town.. Running away on breaking a window while playing cricket.. Going everywhere bare feet..

                Being conservative about pictures coz a roll gives you only 36.. And a long vacation meant 60 photographs of 4X6..

                The days when we laughed more than we cried.. And the laughter was honest.. And bruises and injuries healed in a day.. Dad coming back from work and we expected him to get something for us every day..

                Holding dad’s finger and walking around like we own the place.. No worries, no responsibilities.. The world was a better place.. And I used to think that I didn’t want to grow up.. But life doesn’t work that way..

                Unfortunately, I did grow up.. At 24, what wouldn’t I give to be a 12 year old again..

                Then again.. Flashback.. Bangalore.. Days of learning.. Still feeling like I haven’t grown-up and still be able to take care of myself.. Wandering out on my own, midnight tea, photography, cricket, cooking and eating, washing clothes.. Honest laughter..

                How one small thought triggers a train of memories.. And how I wish that I would still be able to live those memories..

                I wish I could go old-fashioned again.. Be the little me again.. 

The Grass is Greener on my side

It’s that time again when I am stuck at my home, all alone. The time when thoughts chase each other in my mind and my fingers have a job capturing the good ones. Just when one such thought was running by, I managed to catch it and put it into writing..

This time it was loneliness.. It has been a good teacher.. It is while being alone that I learnt to put my thoughts into writing.. It is the “being alone” that has actually allowed the thoughts to run as freely in my mind as the eagles soar in the sky..

I learned to make the kitchen my canvas and the food my masterpiece.. I was on my own when I cooked Gulab Jamuns for the first time (Although it sucked, it didn’t matter).. There were so many other things that I learned to cook.. Just because I was alone..

Being alone has taught me to let my emotions flow.. Through laughter, tears, writing... It is when I am alone that the memories tumble down like an avalanche..  Memories that make me smile, memories that make me cry, memories that remind me of the beautiful life that I’ve had..

Being alone has given me the best of the photographs.. Being alone has taught me to stay busy, restless.. Always on a quest to try something new.. And I obliged..

Being alone has given me the courage to travel.. To go places.. I learned to make journeys, unplanned.. I learned to get off at unknown stations.. Take off on unknown destinations.. Make mistakes.. Learn from them.. 

Being alone has made me realize that the grass is greener on my side.. It’s just that I’d never seen it from the other side.. ;)

The Open Cage

Just read a quote somewhere which said, “…a bird who wouldn't fly out of an open cage…” and wondered, why would that be? And the reality hit me.. It just gets used to a cage so much that it doesn't know what it would be to be free! It doesn't know how to survive in the open skies..

It is called Agoraphobia – the fear of leaving home. 

It is a fear that prevents a prisoner from leaving the walls of the prison. It is the fear of independence!

A fear that prevents people to take the unknown route.. the unexplored path..

It is the feeling that stops people from living their dreams.. And I guess it is not just the bird or the prisoner.. It’s us as well.

We find ourselves so cozy in our little cage that we ignore the open skies above.. Why do we have to be so protective of ourselves?

It is alright to get hurt sometimes.. It is okay to be lost somewhere.. It is fine to be careless at something.. It helps to take the odd risk.. Follow your instincts once.. Make an unplanned journey.. Life was not supposed to be lived as a plan.. Life was just supposed to be.. LIVED!!!!

;)

The First Rain

I woke up to the sound of the first rain on the roof today.. The poetic "pitter-patter" sounded like a symphony to beat the sighs of the harsh summer heat.. It was a realisation that the rain would never have been so welcome had it followed a cold winter.. The summer is a necessity to make me realise how important the rain was.. Just like distance is necessary to make people realise how much they miss someone.. 

The rain - it inspires people to do things.. It means different things to different people.. The smell of earth wet by rains..

To me, rain is to be the naughty kid again and spreading the arms wide open to welcome the rain and get drenched! It means new journeys and flying away to explore the destinations on my "places to visit" list.. It means getting out the guitar and singing songs about the rains.. It means getting the camera out and click more photographs.. To me, rain is to see - the green all around me.. To listen - the wind blowing freely and birds beating their wings dry.. To smell - the earth relieved to have the rains after a dry four months.. to taste - a hot cup of tea and bhajiyas to go with it.. ;) and to feel - the rain drops on my face.. 

It inspires me to write, to pen down my thoughts, no matter how amateur or childish they sound.. To me, the rain inspires happiness! :)

Happy monsoons!!!

Just another desk job

As I sit at my desk on my own, listening to the random jargons being thrown around, I look out of the glass window right in front of me.. a beautiful, warm sunset.. It's evening already.. Birds flying back home.. A light fog that has settled in the air since the onset of winter, making it possible to see just a vague outline of buildings in the distance.. This winter has been really cold by usual Mumbai standards.. 

As I continue looking out of the window, I can see the mountains which form the landscape behind the building.. Mountains which were once lush green during the rains, but now, showing their bald side like a man in his late thirties.. It will go completely bald come summer before it starts going green again in the monsoons...

I can see the Thane creek in the distance.. And a train.. the Mumbai local, taking people like me and many others back home.. Most of them, who hate travelling in the train and dream of driving their own cars back home someday..

Mumbai has seen its share of dreamers.. And it will continue to do so.. Everyone caught up in the rat race where the winner, usually ends up to be a rat..

I continue staring out the window, its getting darker as I write this.. More birds on the cloudless sky like a painter applying finishing touches to his masterpiece.. I can see a partial but vivid reflection of the office lights across the sky like bulbs floating in the air.. 

I keep peeping out, now and again, to watch people working, talking, laughing.. all in the reflection..

And I see myself.. Peeping back at me.. wondering, If I am the part of this masterpiece which is at work or the part of the rat race to reach my dreams.. 

Fernweh

Fernweh - It's the German word for far-sickness or a craving to travel.. Describes exactly what I am feeling at present.. 

It has been a long time since I have been on a vacation on my own.. A new adventure is always around the corner, but I have ignored the turn.. Whatever happened to the detours, the backpack journeys and unknown roads? 

My weekends are spent at a random restaurant or watching a stupid movie.. I feel like something's cutting my wings off.. The cage door is closing fast.. Life is getting too safe to live.. Pubs and restaurants don't impress me.. 

I want to fall down, bruise my knees and elbows, and still go on.. The reckless life, on the footboard of a random train with the wind in my hair, smell of the rain falling on the dry earth.. Get drenched in it.. Have that hot cup of roadside tea.. Shiver in the cold till my teeth chatter.. Sit at a random beach, talking to complete strangers, watch the sunset.. Laugh till I cry.. Or maybe spread my arms wide open after reaching a mountain top and shout out loud.. without any worries, without any fears.. And listen to my heartbeats.. and the silence that shouts along with me.. Just me.. 

Make the wrong turn, go back again.. Lose my way and do it all over again.. 

I want to be high on life.. Make that journey that I always think about.. Without thoughts, without plans.. I don't want to be tied down by the responsibilities, and the worries of the world.. I want to be free.. with an open mind.. Sing at the top of my voice.. dance to my heart's content.. and just be alive once again.. 

It is an outburst, straight from the heart.. a plea, don't put me in a cage.. Don't tell me how to do things.. Let me make my mistakes.. Let me fall, so that I may get back up on my feet.. Don't choke me, don't suffocate me, don't tie me down.. Let me breath the fresh air, unbound.. Let me be the vagabond, impervious to the world.. Let me be the insane myself once before I turn up as the "sane someone" again.. 

I walk alone, I walk alone!

People often ask me why I travel alone and I answer with a silent smile or simply saying that I enjoy it, never bothering to explain...

Today, while sitting at home, I decided to write, to tell the world what travelling alone means to me.. I travel alone coz it gives me a sense of freedom, a sense of being alive.. And Robert Frost's 'The Road not taken' inspired me!

I started travelling alone out of frustration of cancelled plans.. People have their priorities and I understood that.. But I couldn't accept the fact that my plans were cancelled for others' priorities. And one day, I picked up my back pack, packed my stuff and set of just like that.. The first time that I ever travelled alone.. It wasn't too far but when I returned, I had changed.. I was addicted to the travel drug already.. And the journey proved to be an adventure in itself..

 For me, to travel alone is to learn.. Every journey has a new lesson to teach.. Yes, there is always a lingering fear of being vulnerable, but it is this fear that keeps me alert to my surroundings, while walking through the busy streets or through the narrow, abandoned, shady lanes.. It has improved my sense of direction as well, by taking a lot of wrong turns and hitting a lot of dead ends..

Then, there is a feeling of being in a foreign place when I am not a part of a group.. I don't speak my local language, I am not with familiar people and I don't have anyone leading or following me.. There is no fear of getting lost coz the journey means as much as the destination does.. It means that I can explore a lot more, right from the busy market place to the lonely, remote places.. I can travel at my own pace and not be too slow or fast for anyone, resting when I need to and travelling when I am ready.. No one waits for me and I have to wait for no one..
Another reason is the food.. I make my own choices to eat either at a local street food joint or at a luxury restaurant and talk about the food and culture with the people who serve.. Also, I found out that a cup of tea can be a useful conversation starter anywhere..

A solo traveller is a lot more approachable and hence, it is easier to get into a conversation with locals and other tourists alike.. I can have a conversation with people even when we can't speak a common language.. That is the power of communication.. language is just another medium.. I can always switch to sign language.. And a conversation can start anywhere..
When I am travelling alone, I tend to switch off the cell phone, and thus, any contact with the outside world, as it is more of a disturbance than assistance.. There are moments when its very late and I am unable to find my way back to my hotel and there is no one around to ask directions, in which case, I use the GPS.. But whenever possible, I ask for directions from the locals.. I prefer refraining myself from using any of the social networking tools on a vacation as they only hamper the journey..

But most importantly, I travel alone coz I can be what I want to be.. Staying at a place where no one knows me, and it is one of the best feelings ever!

P.S. It's not that I don't like travelling with friends which is a completely different experience.. But since I started travelling alone, I have seen more of the world and less cancelled plans.. 

P.P.S. Title credits - Green Day :D

Agra - For a glimpse of the Taj Mahal

I left Rajasthan on the night of the 24th of August, 2013 after attending a friend's wedding in Ganganagar. It was the first of the 4 destinations planned for the trip - next was Agra. The only thing that flashed in front of my eyes were the pictures of the Taj Mahal. It was a childhood dream to visit the Taj at least once since I first read about its history in my 8th class. The idea of fulfilling a 10 year old dream was an exciting prospect!

I took a train out of Ganganagar to Delhi after enjoying some amazing hospitality at the wedding for the best part of the last 3 days! I didn't have any plans of any sight-seeing at Delhi or for that matter, even staying at Delhi. I would get off at the Hazrat Nizamuddin railway station the following morning and take my first available transport to Agra - preferably a bus. I reached Delhi early morning on 25th of August. It was close to 7 AM and yet, I could feel the heat. I could make out that Delhi or Agra would not provide any respite from the heat. I got a bus to Agra from the Sarai Kale Khan bus stand and I reached Agra by 1 PM. By the time I checked into a hotel at Agra, the temperature had soared and I was sweating profusely.

On reaching the hotel, I freshened, charged the camera batteries and went off for lunch. It was around 3 pm now. There are a lot of cycle rickshaws available to get around short distances. After a quick lunch, I started walking toward the Taj Mahal. It was around 2 kms walk but the way was lined with trees which made it pleasant to walk. On reaching the entrance, I got my tickets, got those plastic bags that are used to cover up your shoes so that you don't "leave your mark" on the Taj landscape and hired a guide. He was a little guy named Deepak and was aptly called "Chhotu" by others.

And then, it was the moment to witness something that I had waited for a long time, to tick off the oldest wish on my wish list. It was time to see the Taj Mahal! As I entered the artistic gate of the Taj Mahal with 22 little minarets, indicating the number of years taken to complete the construction of the Taj, I saw it through the gate growing as I walked toward it (That is an optical illusion you surely won't miss). And as I entered into the main area, the Taj stood before me. Huge, magnificent and I ran out of adjectives to describe the feeling. I got my wishlist out, ticked 'See the Taj Mahal' and sat right opposite to it waiting for the feeling to sink in.

The sun was just about to set and the Taj was bathed in gold. As we went on a tour clicking pictures all the while escaping the never ending crowd, Chhotu walked briskly next to me filling me up with a lot of minute details about the story behind the Taj Mahal. I have heard about the Taj glowing in moonlight on a full moon and I wish I could witness that someday, but that would have to wait. Right now, I was struggling to convince myself that I was there! After a brief walk around the building, we sat down near the northern side and had a small conversation. By 6.30 PM, we had left the place, I paid Chhotu, got myself a little replica of the Taj and went back to my hotel to retire for the day. I was very happy that day and had already decided that I will go back to the Taj early next morning.

I woke up at 5.30 AM the next day, got ready and started walking toward the Taj which was around 4 kms from my hotel. On the way, I saw peacocks in a nearby garden. I reached Taj by around 6.30 AM and luckily, there were very few people and I knew I would get some pretty good pictures this time around. It was good to be there this early and see the Taj in the morning light. I got a few good pictures, got into little conversations with fellow tourists and sat down and admired again!

I stayed there for about 3 hours this time and I still didn't feel like leaving. And I had to tear my eyes away from the Taj when I finally left the place, hoping to return someday.

My return journey to Delhi wasn't very eventful till I got there. I traveled on board the Delhi metro - one of the most convenient modes of public transports I've ever used! I went to my cousin's place for dinner after a lot of searching around and finally, got on the train which, after 36 hours, would drop me to Rajahmundry on the coast of Andhra Pradesh, to attend another wedding. I went to Hyderabad from there to visit another friend and it was a good 2 weeks before I got back home to Mumbai. Yes, it was a beautiful journey and I wished that it didn't end! But visiting the Taj was the best part of the journey!