Knotty Knots

Friendship day slipped by. Yeah, ever since people found out I am turning thirty this year, they are giving me the slip on Friendship day. Raksha Bandhan is coming. I heard a lot about that this year. Guys can finally look me in the eye and discuss ‘rakhi’ designs, now that my third decade is beginning. Both these days stand for a lasting bond between two people. Moreover, the symbol signifying this bond is also similar, a piece of material tied around the wrist. But then, it is impossible to ignore how opposite the bonds being formed here are. While one is long lasting friendship with blurred edges, the other is a concrete pledge of protection between a brother and a sister. In fact, the latter is a lot about protecting from the blurred edges of the first.

Shahrukh Khan immortalized Friendship day in India after ‘Kuch Kuch Hota Hai.’ If you are a girl, I am sure you have been approached by a guy in your lifetime with one of the three questions: “Will you make friendship with me?” “Will you have friendship with me?” “Will you do friendship with me?” Didn’t those words in bold make you squirm back then? For those who are still grappling with these questions, take a would-be-hag’s advice (now that there is no chance that I’ll use it myself) the best answer should be, “Meet me on Raksha Bandhan, I’ll show you what I can make, have and do.” Trust me, nothing scares the average Indian boy more than the ‘rakhi.’ So next time, don’t hesitate to tear your dupatta in full Hindi movie heroine style to tie the piece on your suitor’s wrist. But hey, don’t forget to let him know which tie it is.

I don’t have any brothers. But I still bought ‘rakhis’ for my neighbours and football partners, and ruined some pretty good cases for myself. That happens a lot in India, don’t you think? Flashback hormone ridden High school. Boy meets girl, or in another version, both grow up in the same school. You can see air molecules dance to romantic Bollywood numbers whenever they meet. Wit b-boys and bounces off their tongues whenever they talk. Their eyes twinkle and shimmer when they greet each other. And lo behold, one fateful day, the girl ties a ‘rakhi’ on the boy’s wrist. Its like a bad ending to a good movie. And why would they do that? But you can only realize with jaw dropping disappointment that they don’t know that they have chemistry. And now that the ‘rakhi’ has been tied all possibilities in those directions just got strangled shut.

Not always though. Did I ever mention that I belong to Tezpur? Its a small town in Assam, but if there ever was a romance ridden place on the planet, its Tezpur. The escapades that take place there are unbelievable. Someday I’ll write a piece on that place. I owe my birth place that much. For now, just one story. This girl who was taking private tuitions from a young fellow was getting rather interested in her lessons. The tutor seemed eager too. The girl’s parents, (they were after all Tezpurians) smelled a pretty amorous rat. They promptly made the girl tie a ‘rakhi’ on her tutor’s wrist and then breathed easy. The years passed. The lessons continued. The girl finished her studies. She and her tutor sadly parted ways. But as the girl’s parents now looked for a suitable groom for her, they suddenly came to know that the young tutor now had a steady government job. Suddenly, he became a prospective bachelor with a decent income. They decided to untie the knot that broke their daughter’s heart, to tie another. Those two are a pretty happy couple even now, with beautiful kids and all.

I guess Destiny does intervene when presumptuous human beings are creating ways to stop evolution. So girls and boys, choose the knot wisely: sainya or bhaiya!!

Coorg: The House of Clouds

The rain bugged us all throughout our trip to Coorg. But hospitality reined too. A few adventures were inevitable.

On our way to Madikeri, we stopped for a quick lunch of momos and noodles at Bylakuppe, surprisingly the largest Tibetan settlement in Asia. I was smitten by the absolute brilliance of the architecture of the Golden temple.

And nothing prepared me for the beauty and the peace inside the main temple. Its a huge hall with three golden statues sitting in repose. Pin drop silence is maintained, and I could swear there was a halo around the statues. I mean, I didn’t have to use flash in my camera!

We arrived at our resort amid a drizzle, which never really stopped till we stayed there. As we waited for the formalities to end I started exploring the place. The architecture adopted by the Mahindra resort here is of course Coorgi. They have a delightful reception area, with a sky light that opens on top of a square pond. It dawned on me that I was not responsible for clothes in the wash, for breakfast, lunch or dinner, or cleaning the house for the next few days. Empty mind is a devil’s workshop. Mine became that now. But not quite. “Life me aaraam ho to ideas aate hai,” is better.

Anyway, I took a flight of steps to look around at the scenery. I was coming back towards the square pond when I suddenly thought of this entire place being owned by a rich pre-independence era family. And their daughter, brought up in a modern way, educated in Oxford, is to marry a rich man. I imagined her standing on the top of the stairs frowning into the rain, as she thought of this man – handsome, kind, gregarious. She had said yes to him, albeit a gnawing in her heart. What of that other man? Hadn’t she outright rejected him? A poor, selfless freedom fighter. The only promise he could give her is professing to love her for the rest of his life, which might be cut short if he carried on with his activities. The answer was very clear. She knew the right person to marry. Yet, she frowned into the rain.

Sorry to break your reverie, but that’s how far I got. Coz with a squeal, my son came running at me. I picked him up and said, “Ok, I choose you.” He giggled and kissed my face till I asked him to stop slobbering me.

We just relaxed around that day, discovering that food was as expensive as diamonds there. And the 55 rupees coffee tasted awful. We headed towards town in the evening for dinner. We found a cozy little restaurant called The Coorg Cuisennette. We wasted no time in ordering the famous pandy curry and bamboo shoot curry, and along with them came kodampattu - the cutest rice balls I ever dug my fangs into. So day one was pretty satisfying. Burp! Oops sorry.

Next morning we discovered that I forgot to pack my husband’s jeans. He was now stuck in his three fourths, and no jacket. Coz, he had only brought along a warm corduroy coat which would definitely not look nice without a full length trouser type. Ducking from his dark looks, I donned on my own stuff, complete with matching muffler and leather jacket. He glared at me as I preened in front of the mirror. “From next time, do your own packing,” I hissed, unfazed. Five years of marriage, you see. Honeymoon’s over sonny!

After breakfast, we headed for Abbey falls. Rains are the best time to visit a waterfall, coz they are flourishing with water. After that we reached Bhagamandala, where in stood a three hundred year old temple. Here we could also see the confluence of the three legendary rivers – Cauvery, Kannike and Sujyoti. However, I will just remember the place as the spot where my son fell into cow dung. He has a special talent for these kind of things, and can’t help showing off when an audience is present. We washed him under a tube well, string of appropriate curses ejecting from my mouth with appropriate speed. The rain mocked on.

Farther up ahead, we visited another temple called Tal Cauvery. This is where the Cauvery starts. We were kinda surprised to find no pomp and show here. Photography was banned and there were practically no tourists. Compared to Gangotri, where the Ganges starts, this was really low profile. The rain wasn’t helping either.

Rest of the day was spent splotching in the muddy streets looking at shopping options. I found the market place cute – spices, honey and kokum predominated. The funny thing was there were so many stores selling spices along with shoes. We didn’t get the logic and were too polite to ask. But we made it a point to buy from such a store. Just for kicks!

Next day we reached the Dubaare Elephant Camp after a short boat ride. That was my son’s day. Stripped down to his diaper, he gave the elephants the bath of their lives. He couldn’t stop raving about it even after we came back. We are back in Bangalore now, and the incessant rain is trying hard not to make me miss Coorg. But its never the same.

Rainy Tales

I don’t think there is anyone out there who hasn’t had an incident to remember in the rain. There will be so many stories if we all came up with even one each. I have some pretty nostalgic moments associated.

During my student days in Delhi, I once went to a movie with one of my friends. Coming out of the theatre we realized it was beginning to rain. That was no ordinary rain. It was the first rain that summer, the time being the beginning of June. Of course we danced in it and got drenched. I even broke my sandals while dancing. Its almost a ritual in Delhi to dance and celebrate the first rain, so nobody got scandalized. In fact they joined in. A photographer asked us to give him a few shots, which we being vain creatures did. And what do you know? Next morning, we were in the Hindustan Times, as jubilant pedestrians enjoying the first summer shower. I still have the newspaper. It was quite a cause for jealousy the next day in college.

Hang on. I have one more. This one is mushy too. It was my first official date with my husband. Things started out pretty normal. We met in a café and sipped on cold cappuccinos. I felt absolutely relaxed with him. Which was huge for me. You see, I am normally seen fidgeting around my purse or something with a formidable frown on my face. So I thought, “I can’t love this guy. He is like a friend.” So we kept on chatting till we decided to go to Noida on his bike. On the way it started raining and this guy wouldn’t stop his bike. Soaked to my skin, I swallowed my ego and used his body to shield myself from the cold wind. And which guy wouldn’t enjoy that. By the time we reached Noida, I was pretty mad. I had to go to office for the evening shift. I bought clothes and changed. Grinning impishly this guy kept saying sorry, but he broke my walls. I liked his guts. After we got married, I moved with him to one of the rain capitals. And we still enjoy the rain whenever we have the time to sit together and admire it.

Let me know if you ever had an adventure in the rain. I would love to know your story.