Blue Wednesdays

The hours ran away
Like sand in the wind.
Two ships waited in the yard;
I was stuck there in between.

How far do I go in search
Of something so elusive?
How many sleepless nights
Hunched over black screens?

My Titanic set sail without me
To the country of my dreams,
While I stood on the docks
And waved her goodbye.

Dining at the head of an empty table
Once so full of love and laughter,
I saw the ghosts of bygone days;
Places and people, now forbidden.

Some days are perfect
Like sunshine and rainbows.
Some days the darkness
Will swallow me whole.
But I can get through it
If all I have is a hand to hold.

Maybe, just maybe, the world
Does get a little brighter
Every time you pet a kitten,
Or smile at a stranger;
Every time you paint with pretty colours,
Or every time you hug your lover.

Until then, only until then,
Today is just another Blue Wednesday. 

Dying Fire

The clock struck twelve
And the world rejoiced;
In that one moment, 
I bid you goodbye. 

For two long winters, I held on tight
Three summers; blissful and light
I knew it would end; one day, one night, 
Though I held on with all my might. 

As autumn fled, the fiery blaze
Dimmed its light, retained its warmth. 
I brought the firewood, you brought yourself;
With you, came the cold, hard winds. 

With my empty lighter and broken matchsticks
I tried to breathe life, though you were long gone. 
I never understood why you left me hanging;
I gathered the embers all on my own.

I no longer carry wood to a dead pyre. 
I tried my best, now I'm letting go. 
You know who you are; I pass you the lighter;
It's up to you now to rekindle the fire. 
 

In Memoriam

Her crying was relentless, her voice was shrill, 
Her body was weak but she never stood still
Her eyes were emeralds, staring up with hope
Perched on my shoulder, my girl came home. 

She was my princess, my spoiled child,
The exquisite beauty that stole my heart.

The dark lines ran across her delicate face
Like a painting that dared me to find its equal.

She was mine, and mine alone
And I was hers; that much she knew.
She slept on my bed and kept it warm
Everyday, she welcomed me home. 

Life hasn't been the same without her
Nobody awaits me when I come home
To an empty house, full of her memories
The beautiful moments of her short life.

Mercilessly was she taken from me
Before my eyes she breathed her last. 
Cut me open, it would have hurt less!
She sleeps eternally beneath the dirt. 

She never did anything wrong, yet 
This fatal fate awaited her.
Had she been with someone but me
She may have lived longer than three.

But no, she would have died alone,
A starving kitten out on the streets.
She had warmth and food, and people who cared;
At least she had a place to call home. 

Forgive me, child, I failed to protect you
From all the evil that lurked outdoors
Does it even matter, does anything else?
No one misses you more than I do.

I want to kiss you one more time, 
Feel your warmth and the touch of your fur. 
I want to lay down by your side
With you in my arms, you in my mind. 

Dearest, you maybe far away, but 
Your paw print is forever etched on my skin. 
I'll see you again, just wait for me;
I'll see you on this side of the Rainbow Bridge. 

16th October, 2017.

 

6 Infinity Stone Themed Cocktails For Every Marvel Fan

It only took us two months. The journey was long and tedious. Sacrifices were made. But our hard work has paid off. All six Infinity Drinks are now in our possession. It is up to us to bring balance to the universe.

Check out these simple, yet beautiful cocktails, that taste just as good as they look.

1. Loki's Temptation [Space Stone]

Blue Curacao, Lemon Juice, Coconut Rum

Mesmerizingly blue (just like Tom Hiddleston's eyes), this drink captures everything about the Tesseract; it's beauty and it's power. With it's sweet taste and strong punch, it surely is a temptation; not just to the God of Mischief. 

2. The Psionic [Mind Stone]

White Rum, Pineapple Juice, Lemon Juice

From Loki's Scepter to Vision's forehead, and finally to the Infinity Gauntlet, the mind stone has had quite the journey. This drink can surely open your mind to the wonderful new possibilities that can arise from such a modest combination of ingredients. 

3. Athereal [Reality Stone]

Cranberry Juice, Apple Vodka

This drink may be easy on the eyes, but it sure packs a punch. The sweetness of cranberry and the essence of apple vodka blend perfectly to make a delicious drink that can change your reality. 

4. Morag's Secret [Power Stone]

White Rum, Blue Curacao, Black Currant Juice

This drink won't make you the most powerful being in the Universe, but it will surely make you feel like one. Blue curacao and black currant juice, mixed in the perfect proportion (2:3) gives the magnificent violet colour. Add to it your preferred amount of white rum and soon you'll be challenging your bros to random dance-offs. 

5. Timeless [Time Stone]

Pineapple Juice, Lemon Juice, Vodka, Blue Curacao

The perfect blend of pineapple juice and blue curacao gives this drink that all-powerful, emerald-green colour. Grab this drink for a relaxing afternoon and watch as time slips by. 

6. Vormir's Soul [Soul Stone]

Whiskey, Brandy, Lemon Tea, Cinnamon

Undeniably the most complicated drink on this list, Vormir's Soul features a variety of ingredients, from Darjeeling tea brewed in the traditional Chinese method, to infused cinnamon and other spices. Add to that some whiskey and a dash of brandy, and you'll have yourself a smooth and zesty drink.

My problem with Mother's Day

Today, you will see many posts about how mothers are goddesses - flawless and perfect in every way. They do their assigned jobs without complaint. They take on all the tasks like every mother should. They do everything they are meant to do. A mother not only gives us unconditional love and support, but also cooks food, washes clothes, and keeps the house clean. 
Because who else would do it except her... right?

The best way to beat someone into submission is by glorifying the very thing you want them to do. 

The whole purpose of Mother's Day has somehow become to praise women for doing everything that was forced upon them, and so, to keep them locked up in the endless cycle of enforced gender roles. When you raise 'Mother' to 'Goddess', you are denying her the very basic right to be treated as a human being. 

People have traditionally set up some impossibly high standards of what a mother should be. If any woman does not meet these standards, her motherhood is immediately questioned. Mother's Day is the celebration of motherhood as an idea; as an image. It is over-exaggerated, praised to the high heavens and reinforced over and over again. Mother's Day is about reminding women of this image and urging them to stick to it, because if you don't conform to this image, you have somehow failed as a mother. 

When you say, 'Motherhood completes a woman,' you are robbing a woman of her choice and of her right over her own body, and reducing her to merely a vessel of procreation. Mother's Day is the celebration of women staying in their "rightful" place - within the four walls of a home, and doing the "right" jobs - that of raising children and maintaining the household. 

What we so badly need is for society to stop fetishizing the idea of Motherhood. 

For now, let's celebrate Mother's Day for all the right reasons. Let us celebrate our moms for who they are as a person, not just their motherhood. Let us celebrate their awesomeness - their dreams, ideas, passions and achievements. Let's celebrate their individuality. 

Instead of an idea, let's celebrate a person. 

Happy Mother's Day. 

Call Me By Your Name - Alternate Ending

 

It was winter when he received that unexpected phone call and heard a voice that made his heart race. No one else could say his name like he did.

                “Elio?”

                 “Oliver! Hi! I’ve missed you.”

                “I’ve missed you too.”

Elio’s parents then talked to him. The usual questions. How are you? How are things going on there?  Typical. Then they left Elio to let him speak to Oliver in private.

                “Elio,” Elio whispered. “Elio… Elio… Elio….”

                There was a long silence at the other end.

                “Oliver,” he finally said. Elio blushed. “I haven’t forgotten,” said Oliver. Of course he hadn’t.

                Then he said it. Marriage.

As Elio’s mother and Mafalda lay the table, Elio sat in front of the fireplace and wept. There was nothing he could do to stop the tears. He wanted Oliver to be there, right next to him.

                “Elio?” Mother called.

                He wanted to tell her. Tell her everything.  But he would tell his father later on in the night. He would tell his father and he would weep while he said it. Out of joy. Out of pure, unrestrained joy.

                He asked me to marry him.

He wore a tuxedo. Naturally. It felt strange. Elio had never seen him in something that covered up so much of his luxurious skin. People knew. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was Oliver was waiting for him.

                They left for the States soon, each pursuing his own line of work. They had an apartment and lived like any other married couple. As Elio snuggled closer to Oliver each night, he knew there was nothing to worry about. He wouldn’t pack up and leave one day. He’d be with him forever.

                Every summer they went back to Italy. To the farm. They stayed in the same room. Elio’s room, where the memories of their first encounter was still fresh.  The French windows. The balcony. The peaches. The gate to beach still creaked. The book store. The post office. Every single place they visited over and over again, each time looking back on the very first time they were there.

The years went by. The seats at the dinner table grew by one. Vimini was very intelligent, just like her namesake. Two protective fathers and one brilliant child. Her grandmother laughed thinking of all the things she would put her fathers through.

                The three of them were there when Elio’s father died. They were there when they buried his ashes. They were there all throughout. Elio, Oliver, and their daughter Vimini. 

                One time he had asked Oliver if he remembered what happened on their balcony twenty years ago.  “Of course, I remember, you dummy,” Oliver had said. “We’re married.”

                They sat around the same dinner table; laughing, joking, drinking wine. Elio looked around; at the people he loved most. His husband Oliver. Husband. He’s my husband.

                There was nothing more important than family. Nothing in the whole wide world. Elio smiled. This was heaven.

The Fading Skies: Light Pollution vs The Most Magnificent Sight Known to Humankind.

Look up at the sky. What do you see? Definitely not even half of what our ancestors saw. That sight has been long lost.

Not many notice. Even less care. But how horrifying it is, to look up at the night sky and not see the billions of stars in this vast universe that we are a part of...

We say human race has come far. We explored space and touched other worlds. But what good is any of that if our skies are so polluted, that we cannot even receive the tiniest glimpse of our little corner of the universe? How low have we sunk, that the same stars that our ancestors saw are now hidden from us by a veil? What will our children see? What will our grandchildren see? How will you look up and tell them stories about the Hunter and the Scorpion, if you can't see them anymore?

In our mad quest to bring light to the darkest corners of the world, we have turned ourselves away from the magnificence of the Cosmos. From the stars are we born. We are all made of star-stuff. Now, we have turned away from the very thing that created and nurtured us, and the sights of the heavens have become lost.

"It makes sense to revere the Sun and the stars, for we are their children." ~ Carl Sagan.

We have let light pollution snatch away from us the most brilliant sight we could ever hope to see, and our little speck of dust in the immense emptiness of space has become more isolated than ever. By the lights of our little world, we have lost the beauty of light beyond.

Turn off the lights, put out the lamps, and gaze up in unison at the brilliance of this incredible Cosmos that we are all a part of.

Young Pups Arrested for Drug-related Felony, Sentenced to Rehab, Gets Clean.

Arrow Kombowski (l) and Max Labowski were arrested on charges of drug possession and abuse

FRONT YARD: Two young pups, Max Labowski (4m) and Arrow Kombowski (4m) were arrested here on Saturday morning after they were found covered in a green substance, suspected to be drugs. Eye-witnesses saw the young pups acting suspiciously, and informed the police, which led to their quick arrest.

The young pups were initially aggressive and resisted arrest. An officer lost a nail in the line of duty, but the pups were apprehended. "Losing a nail isn't new to me. I'm just glad to have caught the perps," she said. The pups soon resorted to whining and pleading to be released.

Max Labowski, begging the officers to let him go.

Labowski and Kombowski immediately confessed to their crimes and led the police to the crime scene, where a carpet, covered in the same green substance, was discovered. It is assumed that the crime scene is where the young pups often got together for their enjoyment. "Max was found practically covered in the substance, while Arrow only had small amounts on his body," said the officer who made the arrest.

Max Labowski at the crime scene.

Forensics are on scene, trying to establish the nature of this substance. Narcotics officers speculate that this is a new drug out on the street, targeted at vulnerable youngsters. Labowski and Kombowski are the latest victims of the drug epidemic that is sweeping the nation. "I've been on the force for 2 years... I've never seen anything like this before," said the detective in charge.

At the trial, a three-member jury found them guilty of drug possession and abuse. The young pups were sent to the Back Yard Rehabilitation Center where they are to remain until they got clean. Known to be violent and unpredictable at times, Labowski and Kombowski were escorted to the Rehabilitation Center under maximum security.

Arrow Kombowski at Back Yard Rehabilitation Center

Max Labowski attempts to escape from Back Yard Rehabilitation Center.

While at the center, several futile attempts were made by the pups to escape, which only served to extend their stay. After a grueling procedure that lasted more than half an hour, they were declared clean by the doctors.

Labowski and Kombowski were moved out of the center to The Rooftop, a minimum security facility where doctors kept a close watch on them for fear of a relapse. Most of the reports stated that they were coping well with the rehabilitation and would soon be fit to re-enter society. However, sources say that the young pups could be heard quarreling from time to time, mostly about who's fault it was that got them caught.

Fresh out of the BYRC, the young pups at The Rooftop, a minimum security facility.

Max Labowski and Arrow Kombowski have now been released and they are trying to adjust to normal life. They have been clean for two hours and authorities hope that they will make attempts to stay clean.

Clean for two hours, the pups have a joyful reunion with the officer who helped them leave their life of addiction behind.

Their story has a happy ending. Make sure that yours do to. Don't do drugs.

The Painter - A Short Story

The Painter tiptoed into the living room, carefully avoiding the mahogany coffee table and yet another china vase. He was as quiet as a church mouse as he moved over the carpeted floor, searching for the painting in the dim light of a handheld flashlight.

The baseball bat swung at him out of nowhere, and missed him by a hairline. He grabbed the bat and forced it off the wielder - the middle-aged owner of the house. The two men struggled, delivering punches while knocking off framed photographs from the mantelpiece. The heavier, bulkier house owner got the better of the Painter and shoved him to the floor. He got him in a choke-hold and the Painter struggled to get free.

The Painter strained his head and looked up. The painting he was looking for was hanging right there on the wall - an original painting of a dinner table from 1659, oil on canvas. The Painter was starting to feel light-headed.

He reached out his hand towards the painting, and immediately, a knife in the painting started to twitch. It flew out of the painting, materialized and came to a stop within his palm, just as he gripped tight the strong, steel cutlery. He jabbed the knife backwards into the house-owner's torso, and immediately felt the grip around his neck loosening. He forced his hand over the owner's mouth and slit his throat.

Fresh, warm blood spilled all over the Painter as the man spluttered violently. Soon, he was dead. The dark pool of blood around him grew quietly. The Painter stood up, wiped the blood off the knife using the nearest table cloth and pressed it back into the painting, where it resumed its former position as a part of it, without showing any signs of ever having been removed.

The Painter was about to take the painting off the wall when he heard noises upstairs. "Walter? Walter, are you all right? You told me to call the police, I - " The woman walked into the living room and found her husband's bloodied corpse. She let out a horrifying scream as she fell to the floor, right beside him.

The Painter watched this from outside, through the window. His object of interest was still hanging there on the wall. He could hear the sirens in the distance now. He will just have to try another night.

The investigators were clueless. There were no witnesses, no fingerprints, no DNA evidence and no murder weapon that they could find. The murder seemed almost... supernatural.

In the midst of the search for the killer, hardly anyone noticed the small specks of blood that had been newly added to the 1659 original painting.

Whose great idea was it to compare a woman to a flower?

"A woman is precious and delicate, like a flower. But once you pluck the petals, the flower is worthless."

I am sure that we've all heard some variation of this comparison more times than we'd like to admit. As revolting as it is, it took me too long to understand why this is one of the most sexist and idiotic comparisons out there.

Biologically, a flower is the reproductive organ of the plant.

Let me repeat that louder for  the people in the back.

A flower is the freaking Reproductive Organ of the plant!

So when you compare a woman to a flower, you are reducing her to merely her reproductive organs. That is probably the most moronic thing I've ever heard.

A woman is so much more than that. She is an entire person. She is the whole package. Why is that such a hard concept for society to grasp? She is her own person, with her own dreams, desires and ambitions. She is a human being.

Ladies, you are not an object. You are not a flower or a piece of tape that becomes worthless when someone touches you. You are so much more than that. You are a beautiful individual and you should be proud of that. Lady, you are not a flower, you're the whole damn plant. You are a human being. Don't let anyone treat you any less. Let us end this silence now. Let us stand up and fight - against sexism, misogyny and assholery. Let us fight for our human rights.

Dogs of Sikkim: Travellogue Part 7

As an avid animal lover, I feel the uncontrollable urge to pet any animal that passes even remotely close to me. Such was the case at Tashi View Point.

While everyone else was busy shopping and taking photographs, I had my eyes set on the little brown puppy walking around the place. He was simple adorable. And when I got close enough to him, I crouched down and beckoned him to me. The energetic little puppy came running to me and I was overjoyed. It came to me like I was his long lost owner. He started licking my hand as I tried to pet him, and was jumping around, wagging his tail. Getting this reaction from an animal has to be one of the happiest things in the world.

Our embrace was broken up when my parents told me off for touching a dirty street dog. I stood around for a while, watching the puppy. He seated himself in front of a bench, where two men were eating popcorn. It was quite obvious that he was hungry. But he made no noise. He just sat there, hoping to get a bite to eat. I desperately wished I had kept some food with me.

When the men left the bench, so did the puppy. I noticed a piece of popcorn lying on the seat. I discreetly grabbed it and took it to the puppy a few feet away. He started jumping when he saw me, and when I offered the popcorn, he immediately took it and started playing with it, while trying to eat it.

I was enjoying watching this adorable ball of fur before me when I saw him approach. He was a big dog with yellow fur, and he was coming straight at me. For a second I was scared. I didn't have any food to give the new comer. I was crouching on the floor and so this dog was as tall as me. What if he attacks me? It was too late to get away.

But he just stood there benignly. He motioned with his head that he wanted me to pet him, and so I did. And he looked extremely satisfied. I was relieved. He didn't want food; he just wanted someone to pet him.

That's the thing about cats and dogs. Just like humans have three basic needs (food, shelter and clothing), they too have their own basic needs - food, shelter and petting.

I rubbed the dogs head, and I felt there was bond forming between us -  like we've known each other all our lives and we were now being reunited. I wanted nothing more than to take him home with me.

Just then, they called me; to leave the stray dog alone and to come take some pictures with them. I reluctantly left the dog behind and approached them, only for them to look behind me and let out gasps. The big dog was following me around. Apparently, he was not having enough of me petting him.

Even as I sat down on the bench to take a photo, he wouldn't leave me alone. While everyone else saw this as a menace, it warmed my heart to see him following me around. So we ended up taking the pictures together - me with the dog that refused to go away.

All this makes me think, how much the dogs would have been craving attention to follow me around like this. How much they crave to be loved.

Saying goodbye was the hard part. It was like leaving behind a long lost lover, never to see him again. He watched me descend the steps after I kissed him goodbye. I swear, if he had followed me down the steps, I would have cried.

One think I noticed about the dogs of Sikkim was that every single one of them was incredibly handsome. They all had thick fur (I suppose they would need to, considering the climate) and looked well fed. I assume people took care of them, despite them being street dogs. Just like the people, even the dogs here are decent and friendly (unlike the hostile dogs in my hometown). Man, I love this place!

I think I'll move to Gangtok and adopt a couple of dogs. Yep, seems like a good idea.

Then again, why stop at a couple?

Sightseeing in Gangtok: Travellogue Part 6

Day 3 (1-5-17/ Monday)
Gangtok

We arrived in the city of Gangtok by around 6 pm and we went straight to the hotel. It was almost dusk when we reached our rooms, which was on the top-most floor.

Just one more step, I kept telling myself as I staggered up the seemingly never-ending flight of stairs. And with one massive surge of will, I reached the summit. And what I saw amazed me.

We saw the city below us, touched by the orange rays of the setting sun, and the mountains beyond it, in shades of blue and green. We felt like we were on top of the world, with the valley far beneath us.

We went into our rooms and settled in, only to come out a few minutes later, when it was dark outside.  It did not matter that we had spend half the night at a railway station and the other half on a slow, freezing train compartment. It did not matter that we had spend the better part of the day on a long and tiring car journey. It did not matter that we had just climbed, or rather, crawled, 10 floors to reach our rooms. It did not matter how exhausted we were, because the view made it all worth while.

The hillside was alight with numerous flickering lights in gold and silver. It looked like someone carelessly scattered glitter over a black canvas; like stars over an inky black sky. And we were watching all of this from up above. If only you could have been where I was, seen what I had seen - for what I saw was beyond mere words and pictures.

Gangtok: night view

Day 4 (2-5-17/ Tuesday)

Our ride arrived early in the morning. Our plans for the day ahead included visiting seven different tourist points in and around Gangtok.

The first stop was a handicrafts museum quite near to our hotel, where we saw the arts of weaving, painting and sculpting. With plenty of other locations on our itinerary, we did not linger around much longer.

The second stop was a flower show. In the warm and humid room, there were numerous different types of flowers and  plants, all in full bloom. It was the perfect place for photo shoots, and we didn't hold back. Outside, we stumbled upon some people who lent out traditional Sikkimese dresses - long silk gowns with fancy hats and loud jewelry - at a low price, just to take photographs. Needless to say, one look at the pretty clothes and we spend almost an hour taking photos in different poses. Looking back, the fun we had was one of the major highlights of the entire trip.


Stop #3 was Hanuman tok, a temple on top of a mountain dedicated to The Monkey God. We spend time taking photographs and enjoying the view.

We skipped a couple of stops in between and head for the next point where we could get a decent lunch. Tashi View Point was a nice little place, and we went straight into a restaurant as "some of us" were more than a little hungry.

The restaurant we got into was little more than a crowded, noisy, cramped up room. But we had to make do with what we had. We pulled together a couple of tables and feasted like there was no tomorrow.

Despite the clamorous and restricted ambience of the restaurant, the food was excellent. We ordered thali meals (rice with accompaniments), chowmein (a type of noodles), thukpa (soupy noodles), rotis with curry and a couple of plates of momos (a type of dumpling). The dishes had a strong Chinese and Tibetan influence. The little hotel gave delicious food at reasonable prices and fine service. If you're in Gangtok someday, I suggest you check this place out.




We went up to the view point where did some more shopping and took some photographs. Our next stop was a Buddhist monastery. It was a very calm and peaceful place, and the inside of the temple was adorned with exquisite designs.

By late afternoon, we reached the last spot on the list. The rope way ran between two points in the city. We had to wait a while to get tickets, but the ride was totally worth it.

Gangtok is an incredible city, nothing like anything I'd seen before. The people are friendly, the drivers are decent and the city is beautiful. In just a day, I was in love. The places I grew up in was nothing compared to Sikkim.

It' s decided then. First chance I get, I'm moving to Gangtok.

Local Delicacies: West Bengal: Travelogue Part 5

I did say that the food in West Bengal deserves its own blog post and so here it is...

Perhaps nothing in this entire journey contradicted our expectations like the food. I must admit, we went in there having very wrong assumptions about what their food tastes like. And what we experienced truly left us in awe.

Right from the first cup of tea (the milk came from the cow in the shed behind the house), we knew we were in for a treat (literally). We ate lunch with other family members in the house in Debipur. They served us rice, followed by dal curry. There were many vegetable accompaniments, each one tastier than the last. But the one dish that stood out was the fish. Two large pieces per person was hardly enough. It's soft, white, juicy flesh was simply delicious.

The main course had us stuffed, and when they came to us with desert, how could we turn them away? Our mouths said yes while our stomachs pleaded no. Slowly we had the mango chutney they poured into our plate. It was the perfect combination of sweet and sour. Desert #2 was rice pudding with sugar balls. My mother attempted to say no, owing to lack of space in our tummies but they would have none of it. With the first taste of the pudding, we realized that we had just avoided a big mistake. It was truly scrumptious.

Dinner at the reception was a grand feast. A few snacks like pani puris and a dish of chicken were available before the main course. I tried to count the number of items that were served but, honestly, I lost count. Roti and rice items were accompanied by many vegetable and meat side dishes. Dessert included gulab jamuns and rasagullas, among others.

It was with these tastes lingering in our mouths that we boarded the train to Sikkim, the next part of our journey, where another adventure awaited us. 

Back in Debipur: Travelogue Part 4

Two hours in the cramped up train carriage that took us from Kolkata to Debipur was a fun and exciting journey, and the beautiful view of the fields outside was a good enough reason to not fall asleep in an awkward position.

The sun was beginning to set when we got off at Debipur station, although it was hardly after 5 pm. It was considerably easy to find our next mode of transport; or rather, they found us. In that little town, we stood out like a sore thumb.

A blue toto was waiting for us. These battery-powered three wheelers were a better alternative to auto-rickshaws, considering their efficiency, low cost and the fact that they are environment-friendly. All six of us (with our baggage, mind you) managed to squeeze in and not fall off, all throughout the bumpy and thrilling ride.

The toto came to a stop outside the house where the wedding reception was going to be, and while everyone else went in to get ready for the party, my dad and I headed out to do something before we missed the opportunity - explore the fields.

The sun was setting and it was getting dark. We walked through the mango garden and got to the other side. This time, we stepped down and walked into the fields. And there it was.

Paddy fields: up close and personal

I don't think a lot of people from my generation has seen paddy fields, at least not where I come from. It's a rare sight in Kerala these days; I doubt it even exists. I had to come all the way to West Bengal to see something that was an all too common sight in my parents' childhood.

By then, a man from the house and a couple of boys (from the neighborhood, I assume) joined us, and graciously showed us around the paddy fields, and the adjoining land, where they grew all sorts of fruits and vegetables.

It was getting dark, and the festivities were starting. We came out of the fields and our guide suggested that we take the long way back, just so we can see more of the village. We walked down the little streets, taking in the sights, sounds and smells I knew I would hate to leave behind. The air, unpolluted and unconstrained, the chatter of the chickens, dogs, goats and cows, and fields as far as the eye can see, into which the sun so untimely sunk; all of this carried breathtaking beauty.

It was night time, when we got back to the house. We had seen almost a dozen ponds on our little hike and the heat had made us seriously consider jumping in. And we would have, if we weren't late for a party. We could have stayed here for a week and still not have seen enough or done enough. That's what this village did to me. It showed me what I was missing, living in the city.

We came back to the house and I remembered, to my disappointment, that we would have to leave Debipur in a few hours. After a quick shower and dressing up, we went down to the party.

Later that night, we got into the car with our packed bags and headed for Barddaman Railway Station, but not before bidding adieu to our delightful hosts and all the wonderful people we met in Debipur. These people gave us a home miles away from our own. And we are eternally grateful. As the car pulled out, I made a silent promise -  I would do everything in my power to come back.

A Day in Kolkata: Travelogue Part 3

After lunch with the family in Debipur, our party of six got into a car and rode two hours to the city of Kolkata. Everything was different by day. The city was gorgeous.

Our first stop was The Victoria Memorial, an exquisite work of architecture, built dedicated to Queen Victoria. Unfortunately, we were unable to visit the museum, but we did take a walk around the building, through the lush, green park.

After a lot of walking and quite a few photographs, we were ready to leave. As we set off to our next destination, it was already dusk, and Kolkata was even more beautiful at night.

In this part of the city, there were numerous fly-overs; all of them decorated by the signature white-and-blue lights. It was quite a sight indeed. I only wish I had gotten better photographs.

Kolkata's famous New Market is a bustling street, and the entire day's tiredness left us at the prospect of a whole evening of shopping. We spend a good couple of hours there, strolling from shop to shop in that crowded street, stopping only occasionally to buy something. What's interesting about the shops here, is that any price is negotiable, and, given the right shop and with a neat set of bargaining skills (something I, regretfully, lack), the products are an absolute steal.

We had a light dinner at one of the small restaurants within the market. And when the shopping bags got too heavy and too many in number, we decided to call it a day and head to the hotel we had booked to spend the night.

Originally, we had planned to spend the night at the house in Debipur, but given the long journey between Debipur and Kolkata, we thought it would be better to just stay in the city and see the sights before going back for the wedding reception. Our hotel was a nice little place hidden between apartment buildings in the suburbs outside the city. There, we got air-conditioned rooms, hot showers and complimentary breakfast in bed. Sweet!

Day 2 (30-4-17 / Sunday)
Kolkata

We got up bright and early and stuffed ourselves heartily with hot puris and potato curry delivered right to our doors. Having checked out, we took a cab all the way to Mother House, the Headquarters of The Missionaries of Charity and the final resting place of St. Theresa Of Calcutta.

Sunday Mass was almost over when we got there. The chapel was where the tomb was. The room right next to it had been modified to be a museum, where many articles used by Mother Theresa were on display. We were also allowed a glimpse into her room. It was quite interesting, seeing how modest and humble everything about her was.

 

Another thing we noticed about Mother House was that there were hardly any donation boxes in sight, unlike in most churches and chapels where there is a box kept before every idol. The place was quiet and peaceful, always emanating a positive energy.

Stepping back outside into the busy streets on Kolkata, we got on one of those local yellow cabs in an attempt to find the last few trams that were still running. The cabbie dropped us off at a tram depot, which, on closer examination, revealed nothing more than a run-down place behind locked gates with a couple of old, out-of-service trams inside sheds. Well, we did see tram tracks and, technically, we saw trams (even though it was through the small crack between gates), so, thinking that's all we were going to get, we were about to leave when a local told us that the actual depot was on the other side, and any working tram would be coming out of there.

Not the kind of people to give up, we walked about half a kilometre in the blazing afternoon sun to find a tram. We got all the way to the next junction before calling it quits.

We were both hungry and exhausted. We were convinced that only one tram was still operating, considering the fact that we had not seen a single tram the whole time we were here, and this one tram could be anywhere in the city. Not really wanting to run after it, we got in the nearest air-conditioned restaurant and had a heavy and delicious lunch.

Our bellies full and heads now clear, we stepped out, planning our next move. We had to get back to Debipur in time for the reception and the sooner we got there, the better. We had to get to Howrah Railway Station, to take the train to the little town.

Not wanting to get into another hot and stuffy yellow cab, we called an Uber and waited for the car. Still in disappointment about not being able to board a tram, we stood there on the lookout for our cab.

Just then, we saw it, right before our eyes; a big, blue and white tram riding along on the other side of the road. We could only watch with open mouths at the missed opportunity, as our Uber pulled up before us, and the Tram-that-got-away swept out of sight. Damn. 

Howrah Railway Station was busy and bustling with people. We got our tickets and took the first train out to Debipur. And after a day in this big city, I was glad to be going back to the village.

A Bengali Wedding: Travelogue Part 2

And now, for the main event - The Great Bengali Wedding.

We didn't know what to expect when our hosts called us over and we followed them to the nearby mandir. Maybe they just wanted to show us around, we thought, as we admired the local temple. The language barrier meant they were unable to explain to us what this was all about, so we just stood around, having no clue as to what was going on.

The commotion started soon after. A car pulled up, the bride and the groom stepping out of it. They were dressed in the traditional wedding attire; elaborate silks, huge flower garlands and fancy headdresses. The tip of the groom's mundu and that of the bride's saree were still knotted together. The actual wedding ceremony took place the day before, but the festivities were far from over. The bride and groom were returning to the groom's house after spending the last two days at the bride's. As they walked to the temple, the band started playing. Only then were we informed that we were expected to dance.

Wait, what?

The slightest reluctance on our side was met with reproving looks. It was tradition, they explained; it was part of their rituals. As the ceremony went on before the idol, the women and children were dancing to the beat before them. We watched in amusement the sight before us, until they pulled us onto the dance floor.

And so we danced, quite pathetically, I might add, for it would have been rude not to. But I'll tell you one thing - it was a hell of a lot of fun!

Once it was all over at the temple, everyone headed back to the house. The ceremony continued inside, and we curiously watched from the front row. It lasted about 20 minutes. We thought it was all over when the bride and groom headed upstairs, but we were wrong. They asked us to follow them upstairs and we had a hunch that the surprises weren't over yet.

Upstairs, the bride and groom took their steps towards the bedroom, only to be met with a door bolted from the inside. As the groom's cousin soon explained to us in English (we would have been quite clueless about the ceremonies otherwise), the groom's sisters were inside and they refused to open the door and let the newlyweds in, unless they were paid money. Yet another tradition.

After a lot of laughs and quite a few negotiations, the groom gave them around 2000 rupees, by sliding the notes under the door. Only then did they open the door. Quite an interesting tradition.

Soon, they came back out and sat down on a straw mat on the floor in the upstairs hall, and proceeded to play certain games; all, thankfully, explained to us by the groom's cousin. The bride and groom played with small shells and uncooked rice, joined in by other members of the family. It was a noisy and exciting affair, with people cracking jokes every now and then. If only we could understand them...

And with that, the ceremonies were over for that day, and everyone went down for lunch.

The reception party was held at home the next day. The house was all set to receive guests. The bride's family and relatives arrived well into the night, and were received grandly with fireworks. This was some wedding!

It was an incredibly joyous atmosphere and I felt deeply humbled to have been a part of this. They accepted us outsiders as a part of their family. We were blessed to have been able to see a Bengali wedding up close and personal; as this was a cultural experience like no other. 

A little town called Debipur: Travelogue Part 1

Day 1 (29-4-17 / Saturday)
Kolkata/Debipur

Kolkata. The city evokes different images for different people. For me, it was not a pretty one. All that changed with this one trip.

I wasn't too keen on the visit; not at first. I had some false and damaging ideas about how the city might be. Plenty of movies had imprinted in me a very disturbing image of Kolkata.

As we stepped out of the air-conditioned airport into the hot, stifling night, I didn't know what to expect. I was in a big city, at night, miles from home. We didn't linger around much longer. What lay ahead was a two hour drive to our destination - a little town called Debipur just over 80 km north of Kolkata, where a family was putting us up for the two days we would be there. 

The roads were almost empty in the middle of the night; the huge trucks and lorries ruled the streets. Our little car scurried along amidst the giants in the middle of the night, and by 4 am, we arrived.

At first I thought it was a joke. We were in the middle of nowhere, amidst fields and forests, and we had left urban and suburban areas miles behind. We were in a very rural village when the driver stopped and said, "We have arrived." I prayed that this be a joke. It wasn't.

The old, creaking, wooden door opened and an elderly couple stepped out to welcome us. We greeted our hosts with a smile, although my mind hadn't recovered from the shock. This can't be where we're staying!

We stepped in though the narrow doorway into an open courtyard. If the house looked old outside, it looked practically ancient on the inside. It had cemented floors and wooden window panes. Plastic chairs and tabled were strewn all over the courtyard - the only indicator that this is where the wedding party was going to be. That's the real reason for our trip to Kolkata - my dad's colleague was getting married. And the groom's family were our hosts.

They lead us up a dark stairwell onto the second floor. There was someone sleeping in almost every room. We were given chairs to sit in the small bedroom, and our host went back down to get us some water. Only then did we drop our smiles.

We looked at each other in horror, feeling like we had made a huge mistake coming here. How are we ever going to stay here? This is a mistake, right? They don't expect us to actually...?

What was I expecting? Well... Oh, I don't know... Maybe a little luxury resort away from the crowds of the city; a nice couple of rooms with a beautiful view, air-conditioning and swimming pools. I soon realized what a spoilt brat I had become.

There's nothing wrong with this place, it soon became clear, as the sun rose. It just wasn't what we were expecting. We were a little shocked; that's all. At 5am, the sun was coming up. We went up to the terrace and was amazed by what lay around this house. It was a typical village with trees, huts, fields and ponds, and I couldn't wait to go exploring.

The beauty of the village was revealed to us only after sunrise, and I immediately resented any ill comments I made towards this place. We went down and had a look around. There were cows, goats, chickens and dogs around the house. The people were incredibly warm and welcoming, despite the language barrier. They mostly spoke Bengali and Hindi; very few people could speak or understand English. We only dabbled in Hindi, so communication was difficult. But we got by.

We met the whole family; aunts, uncles, cousins and kids, who were all here for the grand wedding. Our host took us to the smaller house right opposite this one, and only then did we know that this was where we were actually going to be staying. This house, though small, had a spacious upstairs bedroom with attached bathroom and a few large windows overlooking the street outside. From the balcony, we could see a pond and the fields beyond. It was beyond sufficient.

After a quick nap to rid ourselves of tiredness, we came down for breakfast. The food... oh, the food! The food in West Bengal deserves its own blog post [Coming soon].

This incredible little village and its people will always have a place in my heart. Its beauty was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. This rural village, untouched by the advances of the city, was peaceful and serene. And I would jump at an opportunity to go back.

This blog post is just a tip of the iceberg. There's many more to come, so stay tuned for more posts about our epic adventure in the north.

To be continued...