Third time...

Scotland again last month. This time to a place called Argyll and Brute. I had planned to visit a couple of islands which are open only during summer, but again after some gross miscalculation I couldn't see them this time as well :( that aside there wasn't a blip in the overall plan. For a change planned to stay in a wooden house just facing the lake bed, the views were amazing and so was the sound of the ripples. I drove around 1000 miles in 4 days (1173 to be precise) and to say "I loved it" would be a bit of an exaggeration, but it was just fine.

I wouldn’t want to list all the things I did, but the two things that spring up to my mind is the boat trip we had on the final day and luncheon and dinner sessions in different hotels every day. Already made up my mind that we will not be wasting time in cooking and tasting the local delicacies were the order of the day and the place we stayed being a fishing village no points to guessing what the delicacy was ? So the second day everyone was quite hungry and we noticed a huge (and posh) hotel nearby and we just drove in thinking of hogging a lot of stuff and when I walked in I see a post “Indian buffet” available. I was shocked a huge English restaurant in a corner of Scotland with an Indian menu, surely “India Shining” ?

I have never been a fan of boat rides and I think the reason is that I don’t want to give the fishes underneath a chance to take revenge on me for the misfortune I might have caused on their brothers and sisters in all these years, but we got a complimentary discount and Indians do get attracted to discounts like bee to honey :)So here I was sitting in the middle of the lake (with a very strong current) thinking when will the nightmare end and there were my friends who were happily enjoying and showed no signs of retreat. Then one of the girl in the group got up and started dancing on the boat and I was imagining it to be her call to “Mr Yamraj” (Indian god for death). But the nightmare finally ended with a lesson learnt, no more getting onto a boat with dancers.

Overall a trip at the right time to up the ante (read spirits) and reenergise myself for all the useless work ahead !

An early morning start that day,
Fun, laughter and what more to say,
Lots of hope with hand in hand,
My drive to the tip of Scotland.


A drive from five to fifteen twenty,
Passing valleys and lakes a plenty,
To a wooden mansion in scarlet red,
A beautiful lake just facing ahead.


A walk in the moonlight to end my day,
With sparrows chirping as if to say,
Love yourself and others a heart full,
Your life is indeed beautiful !

Kilchrun Castle, Argyll Scotland

Scotland is my favourite place in the UK. I have loved every time I have been there and the love doesn't look to be diminishing either. So this time I spent some days on a cottage facing the lake (not really a place to be spending alone really) but nonetheless no complaints.

The place I stayed turned out to be a fishing village and since it was self catering I had to go out looking for some food stuffs in the next village around 3 to 4 miles from this one. When I was driving there I saw a ruined castle towards my left left all alone in the middle of a lake, its waters seemed to have been painted in red with the reflection of an evening sun.

The next day I insisted we visit the castle and spend some time there. I am not sure what I saw in it, but something made me want to go back and we did. Spent around an hour out there and I was just spellbound by looking at it. I was raving about it in spite of my friends teasing me whats so special in this one. I think I now know why I liked it so much, the sight of it bursting with pride even though it was not exactly in perfect shape.

This is what I wrote sleeping on the grass, facing the Kilchurn castle with a cool breeze brushing my body and a lovely thought embracing my mind.

A ruined castle surrounded by water,
All it's pomp and splendour in tatters,
Yet it stands with it's battered wall,
Attracting the eyes of one and all,
Waiting on the banks for a loved one ?
Bearing the pain that has befallen,
A resolve that seems cannot be broken,
In spite of all that time has taken,
Standing the test of time it towers above,
A story of wait and hope, for a thing called love.

Some days of Cornish delight !

Was back on the road doing what I love the most, travelling. After a long time I felt the timid excitement before the start of a trip and then the nervousness just before you leave thinking that everything goes to plan. This time it was with an altogether different group of people who I have known for only quite some time. It's often said company matters not the place but my experience has taught me not to believe in this theory too much.

After a four hour journey I reached a placed called "Bedruthan Steps" (named after a ghost who used the stack of huge rocks on the beach as stepping stones), a stretch of coastline located in Cornwall. An amazing view of the Atlantic with its water so blue (and to my liking) with not many people around. A perfect start to a long weekend.

For some reason I wanted this to be a relaxing holiday with no room for any kind of activity, but unfortunately didn't turn up that way, though I have no complaints. I had booked a cottage overlooking the sea in a village called Portheleven. After having settled down it was time to burn in the sun and with the kind of weather we have been having no one had any complaints.

So the daily routine was to have a sip of tea, heavy English breakfast, off to the beach for some fun and games and back again for dinner and to end it all some exquisitive songs from the Jagjith Singh and Rafi cuisine. Loved every bit of it.

The last day was quite interesting, where we flew to Isle of Scilly by a copter. In spite of me not being a keen flyer I must admit I quite enjoyed the ride. The Isles of Scilly is a group of islands with breathtaking coast lines and sandy beaches with the water having an almost turquoise color. After hoping into the main St Mary's Island we hopped on to Tressco Island and spent some quality time out there in one of the most isolated beach I have ever been. We were only around 10 to 20 people and such a huge stretch of land and I loved every bit of the time I had to myself.

All in all quite a nice time off and after Scotland, probably the second place I would want to be. And for the record I have already decided I shall be visiting there once more :)

A few hundred miles from Bristol,
No to work and time for a stroll,
Wine, dine and fun with some pals,
In a place they call Cornwall.


What was special of this place I wonder ?
Sandy beaches of Atlantic waters to wander,
The famous Cornish pastries and apple pie,
Couldn't resist them however I tried.


An exquisite place overlooking the sea,
Embracing the mornin with some hot tea,
Bring on the coolers and some sun cream,
Out into the sea we go to play and scream.


Hopping to an island on a chopper ride,
Snoring on the beach facing the sea side,
The last four days we did it all,
In a place they call Cornwall.

This is the way we are

Flash back to 2007. A normal day and I was brimming with confidence. It was India vs Bangladesh in the World cup being played in Trinidad. I thought it will be a cake walk for us since we were one of the favourites (we always are) and Bangladesh really were not a team to be feared. Don't really want to explain in detail we lost and so did our hopes once again. Lots of anger and I decided not to watch a match again.

Fast forward 4 years...

Tomorrow the 2011 world cup kicks off. India and Bangladesh are the co-hosts and the first match India vs Bangladesh. All these years I just managed to keep track of the "Men in Blue" but never watched any of their matches. As days got nearer to the first match I found myself involuntary following the team news, I managed to download the fixture list, found out in which group India played and all their matches and then thinking on the possible wins and potential tricky matches. This is the story of every Indian cricket fan, right back to support them whenever they need it the most and every time they are the favourites. THIS IS THE WAY WE ARE....

I followed a quite a number of interviews and read about every past cricketers reading out their prophecies and dishing out wisdom that no one in the world really cared for. The guys selected for the Indian team did have a lot to say but there was one common rhetoric they wanted to win the world cup for Sachin. It is probably going to be his final world cup and what a fitting tribute it would be to the greatest ever player to yield a bat. From the captain to the seniors to the youngsters everyone wanted to win it for Sachin, they felt it would be a great gift from them to a player who served Indian cricket for more than two decades.

Then there was an interesting interview from a former world cup winner, he mentioned how Indians shouldn't think about winning the world cup for Sachin. They should be thinking as a team, they should be thinking of winning it for themselves. I found it interesting yet not surprising. It's quite difficult to understand an Indian mentality until you have lived as one. Absolutely no wrong in what the gentlemen said but there are certain things (with a little bit of pride here) that sets us apart. Here was the Indian cricket captain (considered to be the most difficult job in India) declaring that it's the team's wish that they win the world cup for Sachin. Not for themselves first, but for someone else.

It's a something all of us Indian's stand for. Love and Respect. In spite of so much diversity and so many manipulating forces both political and communal we still manage to show a lot of love to each other. It doesn't  matter whether we win or not, but what a magnanimous gesture !! And to those who still can't figure this all out, all I want to say is, "THIS IS THE WAY WE ARE".

A quote from a book called Shantharam...

"That's how we keep this crazy place together - with the heart.... India is the heart. It's the heart that keeps us together. There's no place with people, like my people, Lin. There's no heart like the INDIAN HEART"

A year back and here again !

Years and years I yearned to be,

Along with thee, to live and to die.

A Zillion words I had in my mind,

On living a life both here and beyond.

Seems like it was just yesterday,

We dreamt of love and timeless joy.

So cunning indeed are the schemes of time,

With a cruel smile as if to remind,

They were dreams and nothing much.

Every new day is a bitter beginning,

Thoughts just keep knocking my door,

I swear again not to welcome them in,

Then it was that same old feeling again,

What can it be I never want to know?

With all the hatred I could fathom I stood,

All directions I walk, it leads to that place.

With hatred, with fear I open the door,
Then in a flash as if time stood still,
All those memories came gushing in,
Now into my world and what do they do?

Mock at me and chide a little,

So used to it I now have become,

Just about manage a sarcastic laugh,

What a splendid story it has been,

From miles apart yet never away,

Now a breath away yet worlds apart.

Last few talks I now come to hear,

A lengthy silence is all I have.

Last few hours I now come to think,

Time to pass by, is all that I wish.

Last few things I now come to feel,

I pray that none feel it forever.

Good times I sense are just around,

Love and kindness to embrace,

Every end a preface to something new,

As I show those memories the door,

Its a warm and nice feeling thinking,

I gave love the precious of all gifts,

Of never having to say good bye.

My world, My thoughts

I am a self confessed Bibliophilic. I read anything that comes my way from the usual stuffs (read novels, stories, sports literature) to the unusual (read cook books, philosophy, poetry) and is one of those things that makes me feel good all the time. I am happy to have taken refuge in the imaginary world emanating from the realms of those few pages in good or bad times, in exciting or depressing moods. May be the content of a book makes a difference but I am sure even the worst of books could still manage to trigger some food for thought.

It’s the age of the IPADs and kindles and I was just thinking about the relevance of those wonderfully bound, golden coloured pages. Kindle’s good but haven’t brought myself to part with my hard bound beauties yet. When you have a book in hand it’s an experience, it’s as if one shares all his intimate feelings with it, the creases at the ends (though I am quite careful most of the time) and the book expanding at the centre of the page and some words/sentences catching your eye and your hands automatically flipping through it time and again. Its like same two books can never be the same. That’s why I loved the idea of Tom Riddle’s diary in Harry Potter and the Chamber of secrets.

                                                       

I think I have got this habit from my dad, a voracious reader with philosophy, religion and Tamil Literature his forte. I have kind of picked up from him and the habit’s not going to die for a long time to come. We have this huge book shelf at home stacked with all kinds of books, my younger sister’s books on medicine with bare bones/muscles as the cover page (doesn't make good viewing though) and my elder sis’s books on Maths and Physics and mine with Computers and novels. It’s such a lovely sight, one of the best things I like about my room.

My first book was the “Wren and Martin” high school English grammar my dad got me when I was in 2nd Standard. I can still remember the book bound in a black cardboard with a red ribbon around it. It was a gift for coming 2nd in the class. I remember enthusiastically scanning to search the meaning of “noun”, “adjective”, “pronoun” then, not that much hasn’t changed of late, I still look at it for those confusing jargons now J

Just recollecting the books brings back so many memories as if time travel were to be true. Standing next to Gandhi when he tells his dad the truth in “My Experiments with Truth”, sitting next to a dejected Kalam when his first project was a failure in “Wings of Fire”, listening to Atticus Finch when he explains his daughter about civil rights in “To Kill a Mocking Bird”,  running with Forrest Gump when he tries to reach out for his long lost friend in “Forrest Gump”, flying with Harry, Ron and Hermione on their quest for the Horcruxes in “The Harry Potter Series”, Fighting the oaks alongside Frodo in “Lord of the Rings”, Nodding in appreciation when Howard Roark gives his defence in court in “The FountainHead” and so many more.

But what gives me so much joy in a book, is it the content or is it the pictures ? Or is it about the philosophy or is it about the use of language. I think it’s because it helps me build my own world, a self-made world with all my imagination and creativity, a world that none can ever take it away from me, now or ever.

Thanks for the that first “red book” from my dad ages ago, I have just built a beautiful world from it.

The nemesis close by

Whose our enemy ? For most it's the world but I don't think that way. I don't find any fault with anything around me, for me I am my own nemesis :) A simple philosophy helps to take everything around lightly and trust me it works !

I wonder about things I don't want to think but then can't stop thinking. College days when I didn't have a care in the world, may be when I was at home during vacations not bothering about work, or may be a few funny days with some close pals.

These things remain for good or for the worse and along they bring a cycle of thoughts, a  plethora of emotions and ends in a state where you don't know if you are happy or sad...

You bring me my memories,
My memories brings me my smiles,
My smile brings me my world,
My world brings me my hope,
My hope brings me my goals,
My goals brings me my strength,
My strength brings me my success,
My success brings me my life,
My life brings me my love,
My love brings me my joy,
My joy brings me my everything,
My everything brings me my time,
My time brings me my choice,
My choices brings me my pain,
My pain brings me my memories,
My memories bring me you again.