Bikkupedia Unlimited

Wanted: A tech savvy graduate 'Lady Housekeeper'

2009-03-05T14:09:00.009+05:30

Seen in a classified page of a leading national dally was this job advertisement.

A working couple who have moved on to the outskirts of Delhi is looking for a warm and cheerful female housekeeper with at least 15 years experience.

The listed requirements for the job are

- Should be a graduate who knows to google

- Must be fussy about hygiene

- Know to hire and manage servants

- Enjoy shopping

- Can throw a party

- Willing to pamper grown up kids

- Can iron a shirt

- Manage home budget

- Loves cooking

- Enjoys house guest

- Have a great sense of humour

- Adept at opening a bottle of wine

- Handle an emergency

- Good health and fitness a pre-requisite

- Learn new skills

The job however comes with an 'excellent' pay and well appointed room in the family house.

Any takers?

CITY GUIDE - Sun finally sets on Appu Ghar

2008-02-17T19:18:00.023+05:30

There is something about feeling nostalgic which makes you want to turn back the needles of the clock.

This is the feeling I experienced when sitting thousands of kilometers away from Delhi in my in-laws home in Trivandrum, I saw a news flash across a channel saying Appu Ghar’s last day.

As the channel started showing images of one the most popular amusement parks in Delhi, I suddenly found my mind rolling back the years of my childhood, of which Appu Ghar was such a huge part.

The tug in my heart was so huge that I just couldn’t help penning down my thoughts.

Today, Delhi might be bustling with several other and probably even better amusement parks, but for many of us little ones, the big fat Appu in Gate No 9 of Pragati Maidan was the only source of entertainment and fun.

Many times Sunday outings meant one full tiring day at Appu Ghar when my parents would be busy clicking pictures of me on the swings.

Of course a trip to Appu would be a must if any of my cousins would land up from any part of the country.

Today, its unthinkable how would we spend a whole day in the crazy heat of May and June running around the swings.

But when I remember the umpteen photos I have on the swings of Appu Ghar, my gleeful little face in the picture says it all.

Even after I grew up a little beyond the age of playing on the swings, trips to Appu Ghar never stopped. I became a little choosy though.

How can I forget the blinding headache I developed after a ride on My Fair Lady or the horrible vomitings I had after two minutes on Appu Columbus?

So as I grew up, these two rides were banned for me.

I was always a water fan so I clearly remember my excitement when a new water swing called Splash was introduced in Appu Ghar.

If left to me, I would only ride that swing ignoring all the others!

It was much later that a water park came up in Appu Ghar, by then I was too old to visit it!

I remember feeling a little jealous when I was told that Appu Ghar is nothing in comparison to the Essel World of Bombay.

Well, I did go to visit it. But it turned out to be so huge and so complicated for a child like me, I preferred to stay loyal to my good old Appu.

The school picnics to Appu Ghar always used to be big events. But today I really pity the teachers who would take us to.

Groups of unmanageable and overexcited children running all around the complex would have been a nightmare.

For me, Delhi is not the same without Appu Ghar even though I haven’t visited it for several years.

I know that I will never be able to click pictures of my children on the slides of Appu Ghar.

For them of course, there will be many other amusement parks but for me, it will always be Appu Ghar.

Even though my hair has not yet started graying, Delhi today is no more how I grew up in it.

There might be plush multiplexes but there is no Chanakya Cinema today.

There might be a Metro rail taking you to the Delhi University but the Mall road no more looks the same without the hundreds of students waiting on the bus stop … Well, I guess this is what nostalgia is all about.

Ponmudi: Kerala's Golden Crown

2007-10-08T13:44:00.000+05:30

I sat happily humming to myself on my way to work in the morning as the pleasant breeze hit my face and rain splattered the roads all around.

For a change, I didn't even mind the pollution and traffic around me. It was this weather which reminded me of something and prompted me to get over my laziness and finally write after this long break.

The overcast sky, the soft drizzle and the rain kissed trees drifted my thoughts back to a few months when I was standing overlooking an expanse of mountains covered with a green blanket with the sky playing pranks on me.

On the one side of the sky was a full misty stretch overshadowing the plants and making the early morning look like late evening. On the other side was a brightly lit up sky generously sun bathing the plants.

61 kms away from Trivandrum, I was in this quaint little hill station called Ponmudi. Literally meaning a golden crown, Ponmudi was quite a breathtaking sight to behold.

Though just about a 1000 meter above sea level, it had all the ingredients of a typical tourist hub.

We planned this family gathering during our last visit to Trivandrum. Our group reached there after a pleasant one and a half hour drive from Trivandrum.

The signboard at the outset did say 21 hairpin bends but the drive was surprisingly comfortable.

I didn't even need to pop in my usual dose of Avomine to stop me throwing up! The beautiful Kerala countryside hardly gave me time to think of anything else.

The abundance of trees and flowers along with the lovely breeze kept me gazing out of the window of my car.

In between we also crossed the Kallar river which seemed very calm to me but I was warned that the same water gets quite wild at times.

As our destination grew nearer, my spirits were also perking up. And finally when we reached the government guest house where we were supposed to spend the next two days, I was elated.

Apart from the fact that the place looked cosy, I instantly fell in love with the area it overlooked.

To me, Ponmudi only meant the beautiful tea gardens, mountains, trees and flowers all seen from the guest house.

As the mist played hide and seek with the mountains, we kept standing there just gazing at the beauty around us.

Who could believe that we were just about 1000 meters above sea level and could still feast our eyes to something as incredible as this?

The weather-ah, the weather. It was the perfect weather to enjoy a holiday. Neither too cold to be confined to your quilts and nor too hot to flaunt your summer clothes collection.

While the Trivandrum people did start feeling cold in the evening, I and my husband were pleasantly reminded of the Delhi winter onset.

My first impressions of the guest house turned up to be perfect and the place was indeed very homely and comfortable.

The rooms, though not luxurious had all the required amenities. But the real surprise came when we went and peeped out from the huge balconies of each room.

With swift cool breeze blowing across, the balconies overlooked to a postcard kind of scenery. The mountains, blanketed by a deep emerald cover looked almost black as the mist started falling.

Just then slight drizzle started washing all the plants, trees and flowers with its pure water. Nature's bounty had completely me engulfed when I suddenly realised that I'm being called for lunch.

Running towards the lunch room, I saw my husband and his nephew busy taking a thousand snaps of God knows what. I went near thinking it must be a beautiful flower but to my horror discovered that it was actually a garden lizard!

Both the men were completely fascinated by how 'friendly' the lizard was. Well, being right in the nature's lap, the one day in Ponmudi did give the two many other opportunities to go on a photography spree.

My sea fish starved husband just couldn't stop raving about the fried fish served at the meal.

The fried chicken was also an instant hit with the non-veggies in our group as the ladies kept trying to find out the secret behind the perfectly fried chicken and fish.

As far as I was concerned, well I was busy gobbling down the sambhar rice with papad. After the stomach bloating lunch, it was siesta time but none seemed to be in a mood for it.

The gossip session carried on till evening when we finally decided to get out for a walk. The kids were excited to find a small garden with some swings and instantly freed themselves of their mother's grip and ran.

It was now that when it finally struck me that my mobile had not rang since I had arrived in Ponmudi. I took it out only to realise that though the screen flashed Airtel, the connection was actually not good enough to make or receive calls.

Wow, this was a complete holiday, away from the constantly ringing mobiles and the buzzing city! But people back in Delhi had to be informed so we marched to the only shop we could spot within the guest house.

A small provision cum stationary shop which had an STD booth but that was also shut! But the owner kindly offered to give us his mobile to make a call and we did so paying only a small amount.

As I was busy chatting away on the phone, my husband noticed packets of tea displayed. Merchiston tea powder, made from the tea leaves of the Ponmudi hills was available as black tea as well as normal tea.

We bought packets to sample of both and I must say that we thoroughly enjoyed having the lovely tea back in Delhi.

As the coastal people in our group started feeling quite cold, we decided it was time to retreat. Just as we settled back with blankets in our rooms, the menfolk silently slipped away.

They came back armed with a bottle of wine and informed us that they had chilled beer in the beer parlour of the guest house. It had started raining by then and I almost shivered to think of the chilled beer!

With the rain dropping the temperature further, we thoroughly enjoyed the sips of wine we got. Since we had our evening tea quite early, everyone was ravenous by dinner time.

I almost pounced on the fried rice. And the fried rice was probably the tastiest one I have ever eaten. The perfect blend of vegetables and rice, I thoroughly enjoyed having it with lots of papad and raita. The non-veggies were not disappointed at dinner time also.

Sleeping in a blanket in July almost sounded like a dream. But the thin yet warm blanket provided to us was perfect for the weather. When I think of the room now, I can still smell the dampness in the walls and the air.

The night was by no means silent. We could hear rain pouring throughout the night and the wind shaking our windows violently.

Even amidst all this, we had a lovely sleep and woke up late next morning only to be told that we had to rush and pack.

After a memorable day and night in the Golden Crown, we headed back home with a heart full of memories and a camera overflowing with pictures...

FOOD GUIDE - Oh! Calcutta

2007-07-22T19:04:00.000+05:30

For years, I have harboured a myth - there can be nothing more in Bengali food than fish and rice.

And even though I knew I was being stupid, I somehow believed that there's nothing much about that cuisine which the vegetarians can relish.

Well, unfortunately I myself had to shatter all my myths into pieces when I devoured an amazing amount of food at Delhi's latest Bong heaven Oh! Calcutta.

I really would be the last person to know how would an authentic Bengali luchi or dhokar dholna taste, but the only thing I knew for sure was that the food there was simply delicious.

When the opening of this restaurant was announced some months back, it had stirred quite an interest in the Bengali population of my previous office, many of whom made frequent trips to the place.

Frankly, I had never thought of going there. But recently, for my mallu, fish loving husband's sake, I thought of giving that place a shot. After all, the birthday boy had to be pleased.

And only later I realised what I would have missed had I not ventured. From the moment I set my feet into the warm and pleasing restaurant right next to Hotel Park Royal InterContinental I knew I had fallen for it.

The lighting was just perfect, neither too dark nor too bright. The sitting arrangement comfortable.

So if you wanted a cosy romantic dinner, you could opt for a corner sofa or your noisy group of friends could occupy the long centre table. Basically, there is room for everyone.

But the one thing that really stole my heart at Oh! Calcutta was their staff. In a city where warmth and smiles have become rare commodities, this restaurant seemed to have stocked up these two things very well.

The waiters came, stood patiently and took time to explain each and every dish to us who were very obvious first timers to a Bengali joint.

And when the food was served, we almost forgot that we were sitting in a restaurant and paying for the meal. Every item was lovingly served to us till we said stop.

An extra care was taken to ensure that the non-veg food was kept away from the veggies. And the waiters amazingly seemed to hover around and would pop up when any of our plates had some empty space.

I'm sure I ate a trifle more than my appetite thanks to the way the food was served.

So, there was begun bhaja (yes, I love brinjal so much that I honestly didn't care about the others' taste!), aam de bhindi, dhokar dhalna and luchis.

My husband wanted to taste the famous Hilsa so there was smoked the hilsa and mutton curry for him and my father.

The plain deep fried begun bhaja was amazing and so was the slightly sour bhindi overflowing with friend onions.

But the luchis stole the show. Swollen to perfection, and so soft that they would literally break with three fingers.

And the oil. No, the luchis didn't taste as if they were fried in a can full of oil. Believe me, they tasted surprisingly oil free!

Though many might not agree with him but my husband was of the view that the vegetarian fare was much tastier than the non-veg.

But then I really can't comment much on a Keralaite's taste for Bengali fish, even if it is Hilsa. The railway mutton was tasty was what I was told.

Of course, how can a good Bengali meal be over without a good sweet. So we sampled the rusgulla, sandesh and mishti doi.

I was hesitant at the thought of shelling out extra bucks just for a mithi doi which can be picked up for Rs 8 from Mother Dairy.

But I almost hit myself when I licked a small quantity of it from my mother's kulhar (clay glass). Thick, sweet and divine.

With stomach just about to burst, chewing paan, I finally roved my eyes around to observe the crowd.

There were the obviously Bengali couples sitting and relishing smoked hilsa and luchis amongst loud discussions on everything ranging from politics to painting.

And then there was the typical Dilliwala population who would have suddenly decided to become adventurous and move over their butter chicken.

And then there was me, whose myth about Bengali food was finally broken here today. Oh! Calcutta.

Rafting the white water spectacles of Ganges

2007-07-20T11:19:00.000+05:30

It was pure magic. We were floating right in the middle of the holy Ganges, with the white water gushing from all sides. Is it the real me?

I wondered. Considering I am not the dare devil type, it was hard to believe that I could convince myself to jump right in the middle of the busy river.

I guess it was all about the experience. After all, we were cruising through the rapids of the river with life jackets as our only protection.

And then, the sheer magic of the virgin nature around me probably made everything seem possible, even jumping into a river without knowing the S of swimming.

For me, the river rafting trip meant a lot more than just the exciting sport.

Love at first sight

None of us were prepared for what was going to meet our eye after the six hour drive from Delhi. We had spent the 27 kms drive from Rishikesh, (which seemed more like a chase to a no man's land) in excitement and anxiety.

After all, we had not seen any brochures and had done no web search. So, when we set our feet in Camp River Wild, we were taken aback.

Awestruck, we stood overlooking the silvery sand and white water cradled between mountains and wondered where have we landed. It wasn't like standing on the Goa beach along with a host of tourists running, playing, sun tanning or just sitting. This beach was no tourist hub.

In fact, when we arrived, we couldn't even see another human face for at least ten minutes. The silence was overwhelming and just looking at the sheer beauty of the place made us forget everything else ... rafting, rock climbing, rappelling - all was forgotten.

We were only trying to soak into the surroundings, just to adjust our eyes to the beauty and our ears to the humming of mother nature.

And then I knew that this trip is going to give me a lot more than I expected. Yes, it was love at first sight.

Our camp

It was my maiden experience of staying in a tent and so for the other four friends of mine. An exciting experience it surely was to enter into the flimsy looking tent which transforms into a typical luxurious room the moment you open it up.

A comfortable double bed, dressing table and a separate bath area. We really didn't mind the little congested space. Well who needs a hotel when you are comfortably staying literally in the lap of nature?

And as if to remind us where we are, our feet would dig into the sand of the beach whenever we would set our bare feet on the ground.

Back to basics

Guess what was the substitute for tube light and bulbs in the camp? Well, the good old lantern. Yes, it was a trip back in time, a time which none of us have ever known or will ever know.

Okay, I do admit that initially we did miss an air conditioner or even a fan because the afternoon temperature even in the month of March seemed pretty high. But eventually as we freshened up and the day progressed, we didn't seem to mind the absence of any electric instrument.

Strangely, there was nothing more that I was demanding from our life at that time.

Dusk brought with it more moments to cherish. The breathtaking sight which greeted when we stepped into the open air out of our tents is still etched into our memory.

The soft, yellow light emanating from the row of lanterns made the silvery sand look almost golden. And stretching endlessly in front of us was the crystal clear white water of the river which compelled us to just sit, stare and marvel.

We joined the guests staying in all the tents of the camp who were having a cosy singing and dancing session.

Far across the distance, I could hear the sounds of only our voices, our musical instruments. And sometime in between, the cry of a wild animal would interrupt our melodious meet and we all would jump up.

It was amazing and yet a little scary. We were so near and yet so far from civilisation.

The sport

Finally, I'm back to talking about the purpose behind our trip. Our river rafting experience began early morning of the day two. We were already given a brief training session on what all to be careful about while rafting.

So, wearing life jacket, helmet and armed with oars, we were running towards our raft, a bright blue plastic inflated tube like thing. The five of us were supposed to sit on the edges of the raft with our trainer sitting right at the front edge.

For about 15 kms further, our journey was smooth. There were hardly any rapids to interrupt our smooth flow into the river. And we, like obedient kids were following each and every instruction of our trainer.

With the cold, white water splashing all over our faces now and then, our rafting experience was turning out to be good fun. I couldn't believe we were sailing through a huge patch of Ganga river with oars, life jackets and a raft.

And when the rapid came, we were caught off guard. Our steady flow of conversation was suddenly interrupted by our trainer's shout saying whole team get down.

Thanks to the training, we knew what it meant and we all ducked down into the raft. The raft tossed and turned and finally became stable. We got up as per the instruction of the trainer and stared jubilantly at the now calm water. "It is safe to jump into the river now," our trainer told us.

The adventurous ones with me immediately did as told but I hesitated for a long time before venturing. Finally, very slowly, I put one foot into the icy cold water and then the other and then praying hard, I jumped.

For a second I thought I was drowning but suddenly, I felt myself being afloat in the middle of the river. I made the river my bed and opened my eyes wide staring into the horizon.

Lying afloat on the sparkling clean river felt so peaceful. Amidst the gushing of water, I could faintly hear the chirping of the birds and the buzzing of the insects.

Our journey after that was quite a roller coaster ride. The rapids were getting rougher and the trainer kept on saying 'forward all' which meant keep on rowing. By the time we braved four rapids, I was exhausted and felt I couldn't row for anymore.

I was firmly clutching the thick rope lining along the corners of the raft. Despite everybody's protests, I had given up the oar by now was no more rafting.

And then even before I realised, I felt myself slipping into the water. I knew nothing can happen, thanks to the life jackets but still I panicked but almost immediately I was pulled up.

The adrenaline rush kept us going throughout the 30 kms stretch of the river, negotiating rapids, the raft overturning and a lot more.

Our trainer kept telling us tales of the expert rafters and kayakers who regularly negotiate many a rapid to win competitions. Being first timers, we were of course made to raft in some of the lower grades of the rapids.

We did hear sad stories of adventurous people who could never be seen again after being sucked in by the swirling water of the Ganga.

By the time we reached back to our camp, our stomachs were growling for food. After all, rarely do we city bred people exercise our bodies so much.

Halfway through the sumptuous dinner and our eyes could barely remain open and we hit the bed almost immediately.

Though our legs and hands were paining badly the next morning, we didn't skip a game of beach volleyball, a session of rock climbing and rappelling. Well, we did have to pop in pain killers the next day.

With no cell phones catching network there, our holiday was interrupted by nothing which reminded us of our life back in the city. The continuous body exercise left not much room for any thought, worry or conversations.

Goodbye

But when we were bidding farewell to the camp, it wasn't rafting that I was thinking about. For me, it was hard saying goodbye to the paradise I had discovered.

Today, it's been three long years, but the sight of the silvery sand and white water is still fresh in my memory.

Yes, the trip meant a lot more than negotiating the rapids or climbing the rocks. It was indeed pure magic.

FOOD/SHOP GUIDE - Paan - oh! -Tales

2007-06-30T12:29:00.002+05:30

Fancy owning an MF Husain painting and that too free of cost! Shiv Narayan Pandey proudly flaunts his photograph with the famous painter's work gifted to him by Husain himself. Well, who is SN Pandey?

The 85-year-old man is a paanwala, the owner of SN Pandey & Sons, one of the oldest paan shops in Connaught Place. Bang opposite the Shivaji Stadium MCDonald's, this little paan shop tucked away in a corner overflows with anecdotes.

Peer in the shop and you will find yourself staring into an array of black and white photographs lining the wall.

There are photos of all the political stalwarts of the country from the old timers like Dr Rajendra Prasad, Indira Gandhi to president APJ Abdul Kalam.

While some are posing with a young SN Pandey, the others are busy taking paan from him.

So, how does MF Husain's painting come here? "Husain always comes here for paan whenever he is in Delhi. I had once asked him for a painting of his and many years later he brought it and gave me saying I haven't forgotten my promise," says Pandey.

The young boy sitting along with the old man then offers me the speciality of the shop, a saada paan. "We have lots of variety like the banarasi paan, Madhuri and many more. There is no gutka in any of our paan, everything is pure," the enthusiastic chap tells me.

The paan legacy

Prod him a little and out come the old tales from the aging man's mouth. I feel as though i'm turning the chapters of an old book.

"In 1943, I bought six readymade paan for six paisa from Chawri Bazaar and sold them in this corner for double the cost. I continued this everyday till I collected Rs five. With this money, I slowly set up this shop.

I was very poor at that time and I started this business with the minimum money my father had given me," recounts Pandey.

Today, apart from the shop at CP's outer circle, SN Pandey has another paan shop in North Avenue which his elder son runs.

While the main shop is also run by his younger son, SN Pandey insists on coming to the shop for two to three hours a day.

"I come to the shop every day in the evening after eight. I feel happy to check if everything is going fine. I always teach my people to keep good original stuff."

SN Pandey's paan shop has its own share of historical moments. "Dr Rajendra Prasad was from Bihar so he used to like my paan very much.

Dr Zakir Hussain invited me for a Holi sammelan at Rashtrapati Bhavan where people were invited from all over the world.

Even foreigners got to taste our paan. Pandit Nehru always used to take paan from us when he would go to visit Liaquat Ali Khan in Pakistan," the old man recounts.

Just then another grey haired man pops up suddenly from somewhere and says, "I used to come to this shop as a little boy with my father when the paan used to cost 20 paisa. I am the third generation customer of this shop," Pavan Chadha told me gleefully chewing the paan.

"My office is nearby and even today I come here everyday for at least half an hour just to relax," says Chadha wiping his paan stained lips.

While all the first citizens have digged into Pandey's paan in Raisina Hills, our Bollywood stars too have some paan-oh!-tales with this shop.

"Our paan was served at Vyjayanthimala's wedding. Madhuri Dixit has been coming to our shop since she was a little girl. In fact Syed Jaffri has also sat here and made paan himself," Pandey tells me ecstatically showing off all the photographs.

TEENS COLUMN - A Corbettian Encounter

2007-06-27T11:02:00.000+05:30

By Eesha Kunduri

It was around seven on a pleasant Sunday morning, the sky was bright and clear, and the sun sparkled through the woods of the Jim Corbett National Park, an ideal setting for a jeep safari through the wild.

As we got into the jeep, everyone said this was going to be an exciting experience, more so if we happen to sight a tiger.

Someone said, “Tiger? Forget it. We stand absolutely no chance.” “Maybe the person is right”, I told myself for tiger sightings had certainly become rare these days.

We drove through the woodlands, spotting a herd of deer’s graze close by, and a beautiful partridge flap its wings and take to the air. Everything seemed just so admirable and mesmerizing.

The multifarious trees, with their vibrant shades of green and brown completely enchanted me. I suddenly felt so close to nature.

We stopped near a place from where our tour guide felt we could possibly sight the unsightable - the tiger.

We waited for nearly half an hour or so, reminding ourselves time and again that patience is a virtue which has its own reward.

And indeed, sweet were the fruits of patience, for there it was in front of our eyes- reddish brown and ochre, with striations of black - the hitherto invisible, the Panthera tigris.

As I adjusted the lens and position of my camera, the charismatic tiger seemed to tell me, “Look, even your camera cannot do it. Catch me if you can.” I shot the tiger with my hands trembling out of awe and excitement. I then realized what a challenging job wildlife photography is.

We all stood in silence, beholding the unmistakable beauty, grace and majesty of the tiger, in its territory, its own natural habitat. Simply an out of the world experience - mere words can’t describe it!

We were lucky to have sighted one of the most evocative species on earth, in the wild. And this surely added that extra something to a trip. To feel closer to the bounty of nature surrounding us, we went for a walk along the Kosi river, which was a little away from our resort.

As the warm sunshine gilded the watercourse, the latter seemed to “make the netted sunbeam dance, against its sandy shallows” (excerpt from “the Brook” by Alfred Lord Tennyson).

The flowing river seemed to recite aloud,

“I chatter over stony ways,

In little sharps and trebles,

I bubble into eddying bays,

I babble on the pebbles.”

After our brief tryst with the Kosi, we were back again to our resort, the sublime ambiance of which completely enamored our senses.

Located in the Kumeria Reserve Forest, the Corbett Quality Inn Resort had cottages made of wood panel and stones, nestled in a mango orchard. The cottages looked out to a picturesque view of the Kosi River, the orchards and the lush green grass.

The interiors were splendid with fireplaces, wooden ceilings, stone facade, and lightwood furniture. Everything was just so befitting into this ‘conservationists’ heritage’, and ‘bird watchers’ paradise’.

(The writer is a class XII student of Ryan International School, Trans Yamuna)

Ramgarh: The Valley of Joy

2007-06-20T12:19:00.000+05:30

We heard excitedly as the waiter said, "this is today's fresh juice and is made with the apricots plucked from the orchards of the village below." Saying this, he poured the thick, yellow liquid in our glasses.

Fascinated we were as we tasted the lovely juice sitting in the dining hall of the Neemrana Ramgarh Bungalows.

But then, everything about Ramgarh seemed fascinating. Be it the intoxicating silence of the hills, the chilly breeze, the red cheeked pahari children or the beautiful view, just about everything was so out of this world.

The road less travelled

Why Ramgarh? That seemed to be the question on everyone's mind as we were about to depart to the place. After all, we were travelling to Uttaranchal, a state which boasts of being home to some of the most popular hill stations like Nainital, Mussoorie, Almora, Ranikhet.

Well, the only thing that prompted us to make our trip to Ramgarh was the place where we chose to stay. In the photographs we got to see on the Neemrana website, the Ramgarh Bungalows looked like a fairyland. With the seemingly decades old bungalows atop the hills, the place really drew us.

Our journey was surely no fantasy drive. After waiting for one and a half hours on the Anand Vihar bus stand and sitting sweating in the bus for another half an hour, we finally dozed off with a resolve never to step into a Hina Travels bus.

However, when the bus finally started moving, the cool breeze from the window dried the sweat off our face.

Reaching Nainital on a hot June morning was no consolation. After walking almost half a kilometer with our luggage, we finally managed to get a taxi to go to Ramgarh for a price which didn't sound outrageous.

Even in the short 45 minute drive, I couldn't keep myself awake as the Avomine tablet kept lulling me back to sleep. My husband however thoroughly enjoyed the beauty of the unwinding roads up to Ramgarh.

Our retreat

6000 feet above sea level. This is what the little board stuck in front of our room said. A cosy den called English Bungalow was where we were supposed to spend our next two days.

We were already refreshed by now just by inhaling the fresh, unpolluted air of the mountains. And by the time our luggage was settled at the English Bungalow, we were engulfed by a magical feeling.

After all, we were few thousand feet above the scorching Delhi heat and away from the ever-honking cars ... magic it surely was. For us, landing in Ramgarh was like putting an emergency break on an accelerating vehicle.

Just to think that all we had to do at this place was enjoy the fresh breeze, eat and sleep seemed to drive away the all our blues. Supposed to be one of the oldest possessions of the Neemrana Ramgarh property, our room had a heritage feel about it.

The high wooden bed, the fire place and the high ceiling- everything seemingly belonged to another century.

After digging into a heavy breakfast of mouth watering poories subji, milk, cornflakes, eggs and fresh juice, we made ourselves comfortable in the two easy chairs kept right outside our rooms. As the chilly breeze caressed our faces, our mind and body felt miraculously at ease.

Sleeping at such a place felt like a crime. Considering the ambiance and weather, it felt as though we just had no right to waste a single second on sleeping.

So we decided to to look around the place and see the other bungalows. As the place slowly unveiled itself, we kept falling deeper and deeper in love. With British style bungalows built overlooking the hills, the place was truly a paradise.

Fortunately for us, all the rooms weren't occupied so we felt as though the whole place belonged to us. We made ourselves comfortable in two of the rocking chairs kept outside a suite. Red, green, violet, white ... our eyes were being feasted on the flowers of countless varieties.

The wall in the veranda was adorned with an array of butterflies and insects as we continued to cradle in the lap of nature. We found ourselves wondering how would life be living in a place like this?

At least as of now, the concrete structures didn't seem to have invaded the green blanket on the hills. Of course we knew that it wouldn't be the same a few years from now. Already, things are changing ... the beautiful land is being coveted by people from cities like Delhi who probably see a great future in this place.

"Yeh to dev bhoomi hai madam," was what one of the hotel workers told us when we told him that Ramgarh is one of the most beautiful places we had ever seen. Elated, he went on, insisting that this place is so good that's why in these hills are written so many of our ancient mythologies.

Room after room was examined by us, the curious couple from Delhi who seemed so awestruck by everything here.

My husband discovered a huge tree, overlooking a beautiful view of the valley, under which he said would be perfect to sit and meditate. And surprisingly, we did sit, closed our eyes and soaked ourselves in the glory of our surroundings.

The location was perfect and at the same time, we found ourselves marveling at the intelligence of the hoteliers. With the tagline 'Non-hotel Hotels', they somehow know exactly where this concept would work.

The supposedly 'British era' rooms were no luxurious suites. Taking cue from the antique structures of the rooms, the hotelier has customised the furniture accordingly.

So we found ourselves staring at a high wooden bed, antique chandeliers and a full wooden furniture at Ashok Vatika, one of the latest Neemrana Ramgarh Bungalow under construction.

The workers informed us that all this furniture and raw material is being especially purchased from Chandni Chowk in Delhi and some procured foreign countries.

That there is no cell phone network connectivity here except BSNL doesn't seem odd at this place and the absence of a computer at the reception didn't even strike us.

At Ramgarh, being close to nature almost came naturally without any extra effort. So when my husband suggested that we should take a small walk on the hills, I winced at the thought. How can we walk in the middle of the day? But miraculously we did and I found myself enjoying it, forgetting the the strain of the journey.

We returned, fresh and ready to gobble down the entire lunch spread out which included mutton, cabbage, paneer, dal, chapati, rice and the pahari raita made specially after my request ... bliss.

Blessed land

As we spent more and more hours at Ramgarh, we realised that the place is truly blessed, not just by the bounty of nature but also by the good hearted citizens. It was a pleasure talking to each and every person there, whether a part of the hotel or not.

Everyone seemed to have so much time to be polite, to stop and listen, to explain. Life was moving at its own pace here and the people there were in no hurry to speed it up.

So it was hardly surprising when we talked at length to an old lady here without realising that she is the mother of the person who owns this and the 10 other Neemrana properties.

Aman Nath's mother, addressed as mataji by the hotel staff came across as an unassuming, dignified old lady. Managing her 6-year-old granddaughter, the lady chatted away to glory with two people almost quarter of her age.

Never even for a minute was the conversation boring as mataji told us about the Neemrana hotels, the time when she, along with a friend of hers stayed at Ramgarh and stitched curtains for the rooms with their own hands.

And yet, even though she said she was 80 or more than that, there seemed to be no sign of fatigue. Yes, the body looked fragile but the enthusiastic spirit seemed ever active.

We were taken aback when standing in her small two room set in the hotel, she told us that she wishes to embark on a journey to the hills, to discover more about the interiors. Well, probably that's what keeps them going.

Nature's bounty

It was exciting to know that the jam and juice-making unit was located in this Neemrana property. Using the fresh fruits plucked from the Ramgarh village, the jams and juices, apparently were made without any preservatives.

A heady smell of apricots was tingling our noses as we were being guided to the jam making unit. Our guide stopped in front of a small room as we shot a questioning glance to him ... Surely, this room can't be where all the jams and juices of Neemrana are made? Well, apparently it was.

Astound, we looked around. The so called jam making unit consisted of a small area of total three rooms. One compact space, full of shelves was where all the jams and juices were kept lined up for storage. This room led to the main room, where all the preparation was done and finally a wash cum waste room.

We made ourselves comfortable on small stools looking at the jam making procedure. They finely cut the fruits, boiled its pulp with sugar to a certain temperature then poured them into the jam bottles, which were then covered with a layer of wax and let to cool.

It seemed unbelievably too simple to be true. Sensing our surprise, one of the jam makers scooped up some hot jam to a small plate and gave us to taste. Fancy eating a hot jam! But that hot jam indeed was yummy. Equally exciting was to taste the sweet, juicy apricots, fresh from the Ramgarh village orchards.

But days later, sitting in Delhi, as we munched on to those apricots we carried all the way from Ramgarh, the taste somehow seemed to have faded.

After travelling seven hours to Delhi amidst an air full of pollution, honking cars and the ever running city people, the apricots had lost its feel ... Well, we have to go back there again, to taste the fresh fruits, to inhale the fresh air, to taste the lovely fruits, and ... to meet the people.

It reminds me of our last moments in Ramgarh when our car prepared to move out of the hotel, we saw the whole staff, queued up with hands folded to see us off. We had left a family behind and we had to go back to visit them again. Our fairyland is calling us back.

SHOP GUIDE - India's Oldest Toy Shop

2007-06-16T11:42:00.000+05:30

Nothing about Connaught Place is unfamiliar to me. And yet, this amazing place called CP never ceases to spring surprises. But as I had said in my earlier post, even in these 25 long years, I always chance upon something new in this market.

Our latest find in CP was also thanks to my non-Delhiite husband who loves walking around the inner circle. When he told me that CP has the oldest toy shop in the country, I was sure that it must be one tiny shop, tucked away in some corner of the market. Well, not really.

The toy legacy

With a bright red board saying India's Oldest Toy Shop, Ram Chander & Sons stands proudly next to the Odeon theatre. It was impossible to miss the board but still I had managed not to see it for so many years.

And when I finally saw it, I was little curious as I walked in. One look around the shop took me down memory lane, back to the good old days when birthdays always meant how many new toys were added to my cupboard!

Dolls, doll houses, kitchen sets, cars, aeroplanes ... just about every imaginable toy was stacked here. I guided myself to a small stool kept next to a dignified looking, grey-haired man who was busy working on his computer.

I only had to ask, so this is the oldest toy shop in the country? There was no stopping him after that.

The man turned back chapters and chapters of Ram Chander & Sons and his very own life. "Just like people are given injections to prevent TB etc, I was given an injection of toys, " Satish Sundra, the fourth generation owner of Ram Chander & Sons thus begins his conversation.

I was informed that the shop was first set up in 1890 in Ambala Cant, at Kasauli in 1928 and finally in Delhi in 1935. For Sundra, it has always been a question of maintaining a heritage.

"When they started renovating Odeon recently, I was worried because the shop is hidden by the barricades surrounding Odeon. But with God's grace, our loyal customers still make it a point to come to our shop," he said.

"When I took over the shop after my father, people used to come and tell me, arre tu kya janta hai, hum tere dada se mal khareedte the. I used to feel little angry but soon realise how much those words meant. Even now I have customers whose famiies have been coming here for generations."

This shop too had its brush with celebrities. "Begum Pataudi used to come here to buy toys for her children." They also claim the Modi's and the Birlas used to at one time shop for toys here.

With this, I glanced around the shop. Somehow, even after all those years, the shop seemed to have an old world charm. Nothing seemed modern and in sync with the contemporary world here.

There were no glass showcases with toys decoratively displayed or sign saying 'Good to see, nice to hold. Once broken, its considered sold.' I could see children just walking in, digging into piles, taking out their favourite toys and just examining them.

It was a carefree world which would seem fascinating for any child. As if reading my thoughts, the old man started talking again. "I have never got this shop renovated from my father's time. Everything here is as it was all those years back. I feel my shop should be like a child's messy room. Children should not feel scared after entering my shop. So here, nobody is ever stopped from opening anything. A child should always go home smiling."

Testing times

Life was not always easy for Satish Sundra and his family. "My father came to Delhi after he had a split with his brother. So when we came to here, we were not rich. For a long time, this shop was our home since we didn't have money to buy a house." I was engrossed hearing the tales of survival.

"My father died when I was sixteen. The onus of running the shop came on my uneducated mother. But even in these circumstances, she didn't compromise on our education. I studied, graduated from St Stephen's College. But I was never keen on joining the shop. I wanted to get into foreign services. God of course had different plans for me," said Sundra.

The business has had various phases. "Since 1969, we used to import some toys but the government imposed a ban. Things being produced were sub-standard. In 1982, we were producing nothing but garbage. But slowly, because of competition, duties have come down. So a water pool which used to cost Rs 1495 some years back is now available for Rs 495," said Sundra.

Times change, people change

Sundra gets philosophical and calls himself a sentimental old fool. "My regret is that the people's involvement with their children is not high as it was 30 years ago. Today, I see them buying expensive toys but somehow they don't have the time to teach their children how to play. We're going to pay a very heavy price for all this," says Sundra with disappointment.

After these words, I wasn't surprised to see that Ram Chander & Sons has a different way of functioning. The customers here seemed more like family as they chatted away to glory with the shop owners.

The fifth generation, Sundra's son now works along side his father. He might not have renovated the shop, but the seventy-year-old man is adapting with the changing times. "See at the age of seventy, I am now learning how to use a computer," is what he tells me as he sees me off with a grin.

FOOD GUIDE - Mosaic of Choice

2007-06-12T10:22:00.000+05:30

Sometimes I wonder what Delhi would be without Connaught Place. Hard to imagine right? I've been in Delhi since I was born and I still haven't been able to discover this market which has seen the city evolve from a scratch.

Walking across the countless shops and restaurants lining the white walls of the inner and outer circle somehow always pumps up my spirits.

And just because we are so used to dining at the restaurants which have been there forever, there is hardly any attempt to try out new places.

But my husband decided to break the pattern and we headed to a two-month-old restaurant Mosaic.

The food court

I must say, the restaurateur knew what he was doing when he named the restaurant Mosaic. The mosaic of dishes served here are enough to make anyone's taste buds dance.

This place is a must visit for a first timer to India who wants to familiarize oneself with some of the most famous ethnic cuisines.

And for apna desis, well read on … Our Bengalis can dig into the Doi Maach, the Madrasi (sorry, couldn't help talking like a Dilliwalla) can relive the flavour of their Chettinad Chicken, the spice loving Andhraiites can treat themselves to Andhra fish curry … The list is endless.

And before I disappoint our Punjabis, Chicken Butter Masala is very much there on the menu. Dining here is a real culinary trip around the country.

For us, the menu was a breather from the typical shahi paneer and dal makhani stuff (though I must confess that I don't mind being served these two dishes anytime of the day!).

We were slightly disappointed when told that not every dish on the extensive menu can be prepared so it will be better to go for the buffet. We were little angry and not too excited at the prospect.

The waiters seemed to gauge our mood and immediately reassured us that we can order whatever we want. And here is where the problem began — it was a mammoth task to decide what we want to eat from the five, six pager menu.

For me, it was almost like reading a menu in a foreign language since I couldn't make out the difference between a Mochar Ghonto and a Dhokar Dalna.

Thankfully my husband was more enlightened than me and he settled for a Goshtaba, minced mutton balls cooked tender in gravy, served with a mushroom curry and rice.

The waiter came to my rescue and helped me zero down on Mirch Baigan Ka Salan. Yes, I am a brinjal fan and can experiment with any kind of baigan preparation.

Confusion over, it was our time to sit back and scan the place. Mosaic is a cosy restaurant built bang opposite Super Bazar just above a cloth shop.

It is the kind of place where you would want to come for a comfortable, sumptuous and a peaceful meal without any frills and fancy.

The staff is quite warm and helpful (at least till now). We sat comfortably near a window overlooking the bustling life of CP where people just seemed to be running not even walking.

I was quite happy, sitting aimlessly in a restaurant just getting pampered (of course it came at a price).

We didn't have to make our growling stomachs wait for long. I was soon digging into the spicy baingan and chana dal with butter naan.

My husband didn't even look at the vegetarian side as he happily devoured his Goshtaba. He informed me that the mutton was finely cooked and was blending very well with the gravy.

As far as I was concerned, despite the fact that my tongue was facing several spice burns, I was thoroughly enjoying my meal. The chana dal was delicious and the baingan was one of the best i've had in ages.

It was such a lovely desi meal that we were soon craving to hit our beds for an afternoon siesta.

By the time the desserts were served, my stomach was burning and I was yearning to soothe it. I am generally not very experimental when it comes to food but this time I decided to.

So I was keeping my fingers crossed as I put the first spoon into my chikoo mousse. But my apprehensions were sweetly put to rest as the fresh taste of creamy chikoo hit my tongue. My husband' s caramel custard didn't disappoint either.

In no time were our bowls emptied and we sat back and stretched ourselves. What a meal it was.

I was sure that looking at food again that day would be an impossible thought. Thankfully, the digits in our bill weren't shocking either.

As we walked down from Mosaic looking at the countless newspaper clippings stuck on the wall, I also felt like scribbling saying - Forget pizzas and burgers for a day and come here to taste the magic of real Indian cuisine.

SHOP GUIDE - Little Tibet in Delhi

2007-05-30T19:51:00.000+05:30

There are many things that catch your eye while walking down the Tibetan market of Janpath. Red, blue, green yellow, black, white - colours just stare out as you as one look at any of the shops.

Earrings, wall hangings, decorative and collector's items, clothes, footwear … you name it and you have it. Life just seems so vibrant here and it becomes better still if you are feeling rich that day.

With the NDMC renovating the market, and giving it a wonderful facelift, shopping here seems even a more attractive experience. But somehow, this side of the market, which runs along the Imperial Hotel road, seems so aloof from the other, more popular side of Janpath.

With clothes, jewellery, decorative items, bed sheets stacked up everywhere, this one is a haven for the college goers who stop by at any time of the day, bargain fiercely and walk away triumphantly with a skirt, t-shirt or jeans at dirt cheap rates.

But the Tibetan market is different. Here, the prices are more or less fixed and the products on sale like handicraft items, junk jewellery and all seem much more sophisticated.

I had never really explored this side of the Janpath market. And the fact that they have a name Tibetan Market, which separates them from the other side made me wonder.

I was curious. I decided to do something more than merely feasting my eyes on the stuff in the shops.

Suddenly, looking at the bustling market, I somehow wanted a little peek into the lives of these Tibetans who have made this country their home. Little did I know that I had just opened up a chapter full of memories.

Memories galore

I happily walked past noticing the 26 brand new looking showrooms, which were just a few months' back small shops. The little shack like shops were now chic A/C showrooms.

Amongst this row of shops, I chanced on Shop No 12, a small shop which was not closed with any glass doors and just seemed little out of place.

I peered in and somewhere saw a frail, white haired lady busy working on some beads. In the open shelves of the shop were lined up countless brass items.

The little shop was home to plenty utensils, bowls, cups, saucers and decorative items. And in a small glass table were kept tons of different beads. Some were made into earnings, necklaces or were just kept like that.

The lady kept doubtfully looking at me while I was inspecting the shop. I asked her if she would tell me a little bit about the shop and the market. "Lets see how much I can tell, you anyway sit," was the response.

81-year-old Doma was all of 18 when she had first come to India from Tibet. "Along with others, I also used to sit on the footpath with all the stuff I had to sell.

Gradually, Britishers started noticing our stuff and our sale increased. Finally we were provided small shafts in the shops where we could keep everything. But still there were no pucca shops.

I am so happy that they have renovated the market. I would have been happier if they had done it two years back," says the dear old lady. It was only later I discovered that Doma is right now the only member in the market who is still running the shop after all those years.

In all the other shops, the new generations have taken over. This probably explains why Doma's shop still looks distinctive in its own way. It is clear that change is what she is not willing to accept. And considering her age and life, I wouldn't blame her.

"I don't do very good business because I don't get into bargaining and stuff like that. I have fixed a price and sell my stuff at that only," is what the lady tells me. Probably that explains why the shop is not air conditioned.

But the charm of Shop No 12 lies in the antique look it still wears. Somehow modernization has not crept into its walls, products and most importantly the owner. Doma has clearly not changed with the changing needs of people but that seems to be her success mantra.

Home away from home

The skin is different, the eyes speak a distinct language, the accent is quite characteristic. 'Woh toh chinki hain,' - that's probably how any one of us would react looking at these Tibetan shop owners.

But despite these differences, these people insist that they are now proper Indians and more specifically Delhiites. Doma is perhaps the most expressive of all.

"Our faces might resemble Chinese but our hearts are very much Indian. I feel somewhere we have a similarity in mythology and all. It's now so many years that I have been in Delhi and this is home to me."

And for the younger ones who have grown up in Delhi seeing the Tibetan market flourish, Delhi is where they belong to. With perfect Hindi and English and bits and pieces of the foreign languages, these people are linguists in their own rights and have adapted very well to the situation.

They inform me that they built a small community of their own in Laxmi Nagar. Here, they have 26 houses together where they live with their families. To give a homely feel they have also built a Buddhist temple.

Back to business

Originally these shopkeepers might belong to a different country but they are also a part of the rich Indian heritage which so proudly makes its presence felt across the globe.

So while Janpath is a must-visit on the travelogue of a foreign tourist, the goods from these markets are exported worldwide.

"Our clients come to India once in a while, take designs from here, show it in their own countries at fashion shows, shops etc and then do business there. Now, a lot of business is done over the internet too," says D.R. Lama of Shop No 18, which exports specially designed jewellery.

The survival instinct in an alien country has led these shopkeepers to such a thriving business which India can now be proud of. Their products are sourced from all throughout the country and some of them have also set up their factories where they manufacture their own stuff.

'Survival of the fittest,' is that what strikes you now?

GUEST COLUMN - The homely Spring fields of Shimla

2007-05-28T15:10:00.000+05:30

By Swarup Kar Purkayastha

February 2002. As the cab drives through the narrow, winding roads of Shimla, to Springfields Hotel, it removes us from the hustle-bustle of the city and drifts one into a relatively peaceful realm. It is so easy to get lost as the place opens up and takes one in the warmth of its embrace.

Imposing hills climbing high to kiss the sky, even as blankets of dense, white clouds swim in its vast emptiness. The sun is trying to break through the grey, morning mist from behind the hills.

And yet it's not easy to get lost. The world, its smell, touches seep into the atmosphere as the city gets ready to wake up to the call of the day. The cold breeze brushes one's heart, birds chirp and kids queue in for schools.

The cab screeches to a halt at the threshold of the hotel, situated at the outskirt of the city.

I looked out of the window of my car confused as the hotel looks more like a residence. There is no sign of a hotel. No one at the gate. On the other side, there is a cemented path, either side of which is green pastures, leading to a two-storeyed house.

Even before the apprehensions could sink in, a gentleman miraculously surfaces at the gate and greets us, ending all our anxieties. After I was through with the formalities, he escorts us to our room.

My mother and I breathe relief after an overnight journey and confine ourselves to comfort of the room. We stand awe-struck, wondering at the aesthetics of the interiors.

The decors, mainly inherited from the Raja, who used to own the property, and quite a few of them are purchased from various art galleries and antique dealers across the country, bring in traditional and royal touch yet not forgetting the modern aspect.

The paintings, again picked up from various imperial sources, hanging on the wall, create an ambiance of a home.

Not just the interiors, even the exteriors manifest everything that connects to a home. Leave aside the treatment and services of the host, and it's difficult to know that one is actually in a hotel, even as one visits one room after the other.

As we look out of one after another window of different rooms, we sink into the rare treasure of nature, abound by green hills and snow-clad mountain ranges.

To add to the entire experience, the fireplace was lit up. We had a panoramic view of the mountain ranges with our feet firmly resting on the wooden floor. However, all the rooms don't give the same, intoxicating spectacle.

Lahore Connection

The whole retreat takes us down memory lane to a bygone era but not without modern amenities of luxury that any other would provide.

The history of the property can be traced back to the nineteenth century. It used to be a residence of a Muslim aristocrat Mohammad Yahya Khan, who built it as his summer refuge. During the time of the partition, he left for Pakistan.

Raja Dhyan Singh of Sheikhupura, a large erstwhile estate near Lahore, bought it from Yahya Khan for his Himachali queen Chandragupta, his second wife, who needed an escape from the sweltering heat of Lahore.

Later in the year 1987, the prince converted the palace into a heritage hotel. He ran it for five years and then Usha Lexus Hotels and Resorts brought the property in 1992 on a 40-year lease. And since then it is under its care.

As per an official of the hotel three million rupees was spent for the renovation of the hotel.

The tin-roofed, double-storied hotel, has 11 rooms, six on the first floor and five on the ground floor. It has only one family suite which is on the first floor with a common balcony, shared with the adjacent room.

The balcony offers a breathtaking view of the mountain ranges. We were informed that one could also see the Choor Chandani Range which remains covered with ice even during summers. The tariff starts from Rs 3,000 and goes up to Rs 4,600, which is for the family suite.

Light, camera, action

The hotel takes pride in the fact that some of the famous movies are being shot here. In 1997, Kareeb team stayed in the hotel for over a month. In Chori Chori, the hotel was shown as the house of the film's protagonist Ajay Devgan.

The hotel has one restaurant exclusively for its occupants. And according to the need of the client, the restaurant can be converted into a discotheque. It also has a lounge and offers various indoor games.

And to please our taste buds, the menu boasts of a variety. It offers something as simple as khichdi and munghi ka dal, to a wide array of continental dishes. And to top it, tandoori barbeque and non-vegetarian Indian stuff.

And to wind up our trip, we choose the Toy Train. As the train whizzes on the century-old track, through hill after hill, through tunnels at times, the magnificence of nature freezes in front of the eyes.

Today, years later, as I sit back to write about it, Springfields may have been converted into a boutique hotel, giving a distinct theme and character to each room, memories of the trip come rushing back. Something lives on.

(The writer is journalist based in Ahmedabad)

FOOD GUIDE - Oh! My Chicken Biriyani

2007-05-28T10:02:00.000+05:30

The news of Andhra Bhavan soon making way for a five star hotel was little hard to digest. What would happen to my favourite Chicken biriyani?

Only made on Sundays it really is worth a week's wait. Will the canteen which is a beehive of activity during lunch and dinner also face the axe or be relocated to some funny place which would be hard to spell, leave alone reach?

Hope the planners have a place for one of the most-sought after canteen in the capital in the idea of things to follow.

The news however pulled me and my wife to pay a visit to the AP Bhavan this Sunday. I usually get the biriyani packed to be relished either at home or office but this time we decided to sample it here.

My veggie wife ordered her meal and started her gleeful swim in the pool of ghee as I digged into my chicken biriyani which seemed a bit less than my usual packed version.

I was soon through with my first plate and was feeling greedy to have another. My wife seeing my dilemma allowed me to go for one more which i did and finished with little effort. Tripti. That can only be the right word to describe my feeling.

More so due to the disappointing chicken biriyani I had last week at the Swagath in Defence Colony which often serves some lovely non vegetarian food. I did complain.

It seemed more like a chicken fry eaten along with a fried rice. When it comes to biriyani the rice should blend well with the properly cooked meat.

My expectation was very high after the last visit to Swagath when I had the chettinad chicken curry laced with pepper along with the malabar porotta, quite an amazing combo. Bikku was quite impressed with egg appam and vegetable stew.

I had to eat the first egg appam as it came sprinkled with chilly powder. I did sample a fish fry suggested by the staff but found it lacking a tinge of masala and spice which I have grown up eating. Those were the good old day's of Akkamma's (mother's sister) fish curry and fry.

So put your Sundays to good use and hop into AP Bhavan as this value for money deal might soon be a thing of the past.

Peacock dance at the Tiger's den

2007-05-21T09:47:00.000+05:30

There was a special host greeting us on our arrival at Nawab Pataudi's Palace. One of the most beautiful creations of nature, the peacock gave us a spectacular welcome. Their blue-green wings spread wide in a circle, two peacocks were dancing away to glory as our car wound up to the entrance.

Frankly, I had never seen a peacock dance. So, for me, this was one of the most enchanting sight. Well, quite a royal welcome, I thought as I got down from the car.

But the bird turned out to be quite smart and immediately recoiled its feathers even before we could take out our camera. We are sure there will be many more here, we consoled ourselves as we offloaded from the vehicle.

Tiger's Palace

Such was our fascination towards the bird that we did not even bother to examine the place where we were supposed to shell out so much cash just for a day and night stay. So, after the peacock resumed its daily chores, we finally found the time to look around.

The Pataudi Palace is a huge white structure overlooking a large expanse of greenery. The double-storeyed marble like building has a distinct touch of heritage.

The white pillars all around reminded me of Delhi's good old Cannaught Place. Could someone ever had stayed in this huge palace, I wondered! Well, apparently the Pataudi couple now visit the palace rarely was the information provided to us by a maali who was busy pruning the garden.

Before the Neemrana group took over in 2005, the palace was run like a hotel by Nawab Pataudi's family. The lobby of the palace is adorned with beautiful antique chandeliers.

Photographs of Nawab Pataudi with his pretty wife Sharmila Tagore are all around the place. Decked up in the seemingly Nawabi style, Sharmila makes for a beautiful picture even in those black and white frames.

There were also photographs of Patuadi's cricketing days which gives you a glimpse of what the Tiger was all about in his hay days. Interestingly, there were no photographs of Saif and Soha, the star son and daughter, after whom the family is now known.

According to me, the beautiful garden which nestles the palace was the main attraction. It was unbelievable that a place which is just 75 kms away from Delhi could be so peaceful. The well kept garden was bustling with activity when we reached. About 5 to 7 gardeners were busy watering the lawn and pruning the plants.

Apart from the peacocks, the palace was home to many different species of birds. Even in the scorching sunlight, we couldn't resist a small walk in the garden. Flowers were in all bloom and there were all kinds of birds surprising you from the bushes.

We would surely take a longer walk in the evening, we promised ourselves. Little did we know that just one day is not enough for this wonderful place.

Play time

From my school days till now, I have never been able to learn any sport. So when my husband said he wanted to try a hand at snooker, I immediately decided to shift my focus to the TV.

A few hours had to be passed before we could check in to our room. So while my husband burnt his calories in the provided time, I decided to be a couch potato. The TV lounge in the palace was quite a cosy place.

While the billiards board occupied most of the space, a small TV was kept in the corner with comfortable sofas right opposite. But I couldn't concentrate for long on the movie Kashmir ki Kali, in which Sharmila Tagore incidental made her bollywood debut, as I was thoroughly enjoying the game of pool between my husband and a kid from Holland.

The kid of course was much smarter than us as he tried to teach the nuances of the game to my husband. "You also join us," the Dutch boy told me passing on the cue stick. I was just about to plunge when I read a sign saying a damage to the board would cost Rs 40,000 to any guest. Well, I was instantly back to my movie.

We yearned to take a dip into the swimming pool in the middle of a garden but without proper costumes it was not possible. So, we tried to distract ourselves with a game of table tennis. Frankly, I tried very hard to gently hit the ball but whenever I would lift the racket, the little ball would zoom past me. Sports can never be a part of my hobby list, I realised.

Our haven

Ayesha Sultana. Does the name sound familiar? It happens to be the name adopted by Sharmila when she married the Nawab. Sharmila seemed to follow us even when I could'nt give her the attention she deserved in Kashmir Ki Kali. Ayesha Mahal was the room allotted to us.

In terms of size, it wasn't a mahal but for us, this peaceful den was no less than a paradise. Our room was compact with two large single beds. The window had yellow coloured glass which kept our room lit up through out the day.

The high ceiling gave it the perfect ancient touch. Once inside the room, we were in our own small world, oblivious to the happenings around us. The long spells of silence were broken by the occasional cry of a peacock. This was the room which gave us one of the best night's sleep in ages. I was curious to explore Saif Mahal but never got a chance to do that.

This was our second experience at a Neemrana property (also read A date with a 14th Century Fort) and this time too, we found it a gastronomical delight.

The appropriately titled non-hotel hotels of Neemrana are masters at personalising services. So the three meals of the day were served at three different places in the palace. While lunch was a typical tasty North Indian meal, it was the dinner that we found was worth every penny.

Served at the poolside, this was one of our best candle light dinners together. I indulged in the yummy cheese and spinach rolls, according to my husband, the chicken was the best he's had for ages.

Enchanting feathers

My husband was a restless soul at the Palace. The camera forever in his hand, he was constantly on a lookout for the beautiful bird which refused to be captured dancing in the frame.

Peacocks were in abundance at this place (about 50, according to a worker). Surprisingly, there seemed to have been no attempt made to familiarise them with the human face.

A peacock, which would be busy dancing would immediately fly away the moment we went near. So initially, we decided to be silent spectators. Just when the bird thought the human being was away from its territory, its wings instantly spread out.

Delicate and lovely, the dancing peacock was a magnificent sight. We spotted another one right next to it, hastening to join in the dance. I looked up at the sky but there was no rain.

Just then I chanced on a female pea hen standing seemingly unaffected by the dance. Oh ... so this was the wooing time! At least I could not make out any difference between the two dancing beauties since they both looked so out of this world.

So now we knew how so many songs and poems are written on the peacock. I was also itching to take out a pen and paper and document that beautiful sight.

I couldn't understand how can someone have the heart to kill or pluck away its beautiful feathers? I can't imagine it looking good at any other place except the peacock's back.

As the two danced away to impress their lady love, they were quite unaware of the two humans enchanted by their astounding beauty.

Farewell

We rarely feel sad when we head back home after a holiday. But while we left the place, we had a compelling feeling of getting back to Pataudi Palace soon. The peacocks, the garden, the swimming pool, the snooker table ... everything was calling us back. There was so much more to discover, so much more to talk about ... Yes, we will come back.

Trivandrum Diary

2007-05-15T12:20:00.001+05:30

I am smitten. This is my second visit to this exquisite locale, but the magical feeling which engulfs me when the aircraft starts hovering over Kerala still remains. This is truly God's Own Country.

And it is Trivandrum, the capital is where I pay my obeisance to. For me, it is a haven, a place which has become so much a part of me in just two visits.

Green queen

Four and a half hours in the plane is pretty tiring. So, by the time you are told that the flight is preparing for arrival to the Trivandrum airport, all you want to do is get up and run.

But hold on. It was just then that I happened to look down from my window. A poet would have found his muse from the sight which greeted me when I looked out. I was here, little below the clouds and in front of my eyes was this vast green blanket, engulfing a huge territory.

Soft, fresh and welcoming, the lush green layer seemed to call me and I was mentally responding to it. And there was the ocean. From the distance, only a sheet of blue could be seen perfectly complimenting the green blanket.

It was nature at its best. Something I thought we could see only on the Discovery or National Geographic channel. The best part is that the magic doesn't fade even when the flight is about to hit the ground.

True, the marks of civilisation are seen all over, but everything is in the lap of nature. So, all along the strip of land, you can spot trees, plants and water. Wow ... this is a real confluence of nature. This is my second visit and I'm sure I'll feel equally enamoured the third time too.

Homecoming

Be it talking or writing, I tend to get carried away at the mention of Trivandrum. I apologise.

Some introduction is required - Thiruvananthapuram, as it is now called is my sasural (husband's home). Well, I never knew all my talks with my mother about visiting Kerala once would be heard by someone up there and come true so soon... But they did and I visited Kerala not as a tourist but as a coy bride for the first time.

Funny, it may sound, but it felt like a homecoming for me. I was thousands of miles away from my family in a house full of strangers but as I walked into my husband's house with the traditional Kerala lamp in my hand, I felt completely at home. Strange. Probably, that's what God's Own Country is all about.

Water, water, everywhere

The Trivandrum airport is very strategically located. You get a rendezvous with the sea while heading towards the main city from the airport. The waves from Shankhu Mukham beach, which is a stone's throw away from the airport are ever ready to welcome all visitors.

As the cars wound down the beach, the waves lap up almost waving enthusiastically to you. "Come to play with us soon," they seemed to be telling me as I passed through the beach.

And I kept my promise. I had to.

The famous Kovalam beach was where I was first taken to. I was sensible. I didn't expect a Goa here. But I didn't regret.

The Kovalam beach is no water paradise. The white sand and blue water description is not applicable to this place. Unlike the breathtaking beauty of the Goa beaches,it is the greenery here that catches attention.

The coconut trees lining up throughout the coastline are the first thing to catch your attention as you park your car on the beach. I, like a foolish child wanted to run straight into the water. But I was warned. The sea at the Kovalam beach is quite rough and you have to be on your guard constantly while going near the water.

Unfortunately, even for all its popularity, this beach is hardly well kept. As expected, the beach was more frequented by the foreigners who didn't seem to have a fear of water.

And for these firang tourists are built those umpteen shops adorning the beach selling everything from clothes to jewellery. It hardly matters that they sell everything at a triple price. They are after all doing brisk business.

From here, we headed to the Shanghu Mukham beach, which I had seen from the airport. While it is considered a family beach, this place looked much more cleaner and safer than Kovalam.

We culminated our visit with a treat of a variety of eggs and mutton cutlets at the Indian Coffee House right opposite the beach.

Padmanabhaswamy temple

A trip to Trivandrum would have been incomplete without a visit to the Padmanabhaswamy temple. Wearing a yellow chiffon sari, I set out with my sister-in-law and mother-in-law to see Lord Padmanabha who ruled Travancore via the Padmanabha Dasa, meaning "servants of the Lord Padmanabha"(erstwhile royal family).

It took me a while to acclimatise myself to the temple surroundings. Around me, I could only see bare bodied men wearing the mundu (dhoti) and sari clad women scattered all around.

Some were probably tourists but there were many others for whom this visit was a routine. After walking some good distance within, we finally reached the spot where the main deity was seated.

The excessive crowd and heat was getting on to me but the devotees around me seemed hardly bothered. But when I finally got a chance to stand in front of the deity, I realised it was all worth the effort.

In front of me was probably the most majestic statue of a God I had ever seen in my life. All in gold, Swami Padmanabha was reclining royally in his chamber.

The statue was not lifeless - even in the lying posture, the Lord seemed to be talking to his devotees. The glittering golden miracle I witnessed almost seemed unbelievable. I was still reeling under the effect of the sheer size and carving of the statue when we walked out of the place.

All that glitters

Kerala is one place which seems to be blessed with the Midas touch. From the regal Padmanabhaswamy statue to extravagant weddings, gold is so much a part of life for Keralaites.

Here, gold is one of the criterion for gauging the prosperity of a family. As we drove down the roads of the city, I couldn't help noticing huge billboards saying, "instalments available for gold purchase."

But the real feel of the Midas touch can be seen at any of the traditional Nair wedding. Decked up with a minimum of 20 gold chains and two to three dozen bangles, an affluent Nair bride is quite a breathtaking sight.

So, I realised that one of the things that a tourist should not forget during a Kerala visit is to go to a good jewellery shop. Having some of the purest gold in the country, Keralaites also happen to be brilliant jewellery designers.

The multi-coloured stone ornaments or the aesthetically designed pure gold chains, Kerala may be best described as paradise for the accessory freaks.

Watch out for your waist line

Although my sister-in-law lovingly fed me with the best ghee roast dosas I have ever had, dosa is not a speciality of Kerala. This place is a paradise for those food lovers (especially non-vegetarians) who don't mind experimenting.

For starters, everything here is cooked in coconut oil. Hold on. Agreed, it is cholestrol rich food but believe me, you'll miss something if you don't indulge!

I was lucky. Being the pampered bahu, I got to taste some of the best dishes of the place. So be it puttu & Kadala, idiappam & kootu curry, appam & stew or of course dosa - I digged into everything.

Initially, I was served Basmati rice but gradually I also started eating the thick red rice, which is their staple food. The excessive use of green chillies burnt my stomach but there was something to compensate for that too.

There is an abundance of juice shops across the city, serving an assortment of fresh fruit juices, which are so easy on the pocket too.

The desi air

My 10-day stay in Trivandrum steadied my fast paced life for a while. The Capital of the State with hundred per cent literacy seemed so much at ease with their identity. Trivandrum is no mini-America.

It was a relief to forget the existence of Mc Donalds and Pizza Hut for those days. Unfortunately for old fashioned people like me, the Delhi, Mumbai effect is catching up here too. So, on my second visit I chanced upon a newly built Cafe Coffee Day here which seemed to be the hot spot of youngsters ...

Two visits are not enough to know Trivandrum, and I'm sure I'll get our readers much more to chew on after my third visit to the God's Own Country which happens to be my second home.

Tirchendur: From Diana cut 2 Britney's Bald

2007-05-04T13:10:00.000+05:30

Let me make a confession - I have never been too much of a religious traveler. I had always imagined traveling as freaking out on beaches, mountains or deserts.

It is only after traveling with my husband and in-laws that I learnt how exciting temple visits could be. After visiting some of the most sacred spots in South India, I learnt how even today God is the centre of the lives of several people in this country.

What else could explain the swarms of devotees, clad in heavy silk saris, bearing the brunt of the scorching sun all over the Murugan temple at Tirchendur? There was no sight of strain, no tiredness. But I shouldn't be surprised, after all, I'm a part of a country where people believe firmly that their square meal comes with the blessings of the almighty.

The journey

The fact that I had recently learnt that the Murugan temple at Tirchendur was supposed to be my father's family deity made me curious. So, a detour was planned to Tirchendur on our way to Kanyakumari.

The main agenda of the trip was the mundan (hair shaving) of the younger most member of our travel group- the three-year-old daughter of my sister in law.

On our way, we halted at Pallugal, my mother-in-law's family temple. Located amidst a vast belt of greenery, a visit to this temple gave you such a serene feeling.

The next stop was at Nagercoil where we devoured mouth watering ghee roast dosas.

The heavy breakfast kept us asleep for a major part of the journey. From here began our seemingly never ending drive to Tirchendur. The temperature was soaring and the almost non-functional AC in our Qualis kept raising my husband's temper!

I was afraid we might have to get down in between and wait for another cab because Sujith was anytime ready to pick up a fight with our driver.

Thankfully, sleep overtook him ... My sleep quota had finished by then and I was busy observing the Tamil Nadu countryside.

Even as I cribbed about the weather, I saw a group of women, walking down the fields carrying something on their heads with the sun burning bright over them. The sight put a full stop to all my complaints.

The ordeal

Before entering the temple, we stopped at the Tamil Nadu guest house which had a board saying 'Meals Ready'. Strangely enough, there was not even a restaurant at the place!

So, we assumed that Lord Murugan wanted to see us before we fill our stomach. As we walked our way down the temple, we were quite apprehensive thinking what all would we have to go through for getting the little girl's hair shaved.

We didn't know she had a surprise in store for us ... We were walking swiftly, avoiding the sunlight when I saw the temple area giving way to a huge expanse of water.

Frankly, I had no idea that this temple is situated on a sea shore. Seeing the water was what excited the kids who remained surprisingly well behaved for the next half an hour as we promised them a splash at the sea.

A long narrow passage led us to the place where the hair shaving was done. Through this way, I saw shaved men, women, children and old people, all looking happy and contented. My mother in-law told me that shaving off the hair means forgoing a beautiful part of your body so it is considered a great sacrifice for God.

The general practise is that the mundan is done before the temple visit. So we prepared ourselves for the ordeal. By now, the poor mother of the little one was almost in tears.

In no time, I saw my husband sitting on the patra with the girl. From here, the barber took over and within seconds we could see strands of hair all around the place. We were amazed to see the kid sitting patiently on my husband's lap trying to make sense of what was happening to her.

Fortunately, by the time she understood and started getting irritated, our work was through.

Promises had to be kept and we immediately took the kids to the sea. They happily played around and so did we, elated with the relief from the heat and fulfillment of her father's wish of getting her mundan done.

The temple

The structure of Murugan temple reminded me of the photographs I had seen of temples in South India in school. Its slanting triangular structure is so typically South Indian.

Fortunately for me, there was hardly any crowd thanks to the exam season and we got a lovely darshan.

The priests in the temples down South are an intelligent lot. They could easily make out that in our group, I was the ignorant one and they quickly briefed me about the significance of the deity.

When we were walking back to the entrance of the temple, I spotted a long queue of people assembled in the front of a door. I tried to observe them carefully when I realised they were waiting for the free food ... My heart immediately said a prayer as I walked past them.

Shopping time

My sister-in-law had already told me that we can buy some beautiful glass bangles from this place. We came for shopping after eating a stomach full of the Tamilian thali at a nearby restaurant.

With energy restored, we were in full spirits to raid the shops. I was completely fascinated with the variety of bangles available. Red, blue, black, orange, pink ... a collage of colours were seen at these bangle shops. I was quite shocked when I came to know how reasonably priced the bangles were.

I felt like purchasing the whole shop but my mother and sister-in-law didn't give me a chance as they bought enough for me to wear for the next few years. I bought a few Murugan lockets for my father, through whom I had a connection with the temple.

Sitting in the car, on our way to Kanyakumari (also read At India's Cape with Good Hope), I was thinking of all the stories I had to narrate to my parents of this visits.

Amritsar Diary

2007-04-26T21:05:00.000+05:30

As our car zipped through the lanes of Amritsar at 11 in the night, I felt a strange familiarity with the city. After sleeping all the way through our journey in the Shatabdi, we were wide awake when we reached.

Our destination, City Heart Hotel came in no time but I was still wondering why does this city seem familiar. In fact, this was my first visit to Punjab ... However, I turned my attention to the place where our hotel was located.

Built amidst a row of shops, our hotel was a small two storey building which could have been easily mistaken for another shop had it not been for the huge banner.

Just adjoining the building was an ICICI ATM along with a shop selling 'punjabi jutti' which was open even at 11.15 in the night! There were people and vehicles still going down the road ... The scene was a far cry from the deserted city that Delhi becomes at this time and they say big cities have an active night life!.

The signs of commercialisation were written bold and clear all over the place. A place which has such a huge slice in the history of the nation and houses one of the most beautiful temples of this country seemed to have kept its pace with the fast moving time. This did not look like the ancient city that we had imagined.

Here, my brain suddenly propped up this answer - this place is like Chandni Chowk of Delhi. Oh yes, the small but well stocked lanes, always buzzing with people was so much like the famous market of Old Delhi. The only difference here was that standing on the road in the wee hours did not make you feel vulnerable to rape or theft at any point.

I again surveyed the city through the thick glass window of my hotel room next morning. At 7 a.m., the lanes had a life and freshness about them. The fruits and vegetable hawkers already seemed to have done good business.

But there was one shop below which caught my eye - bannered Milk Shop, as place was attracting a lot of crowd. The people who came here to have a glass of milk, lassi or any other milk item seemed like localites who were used to this routine of stopping by this shop and then moving ahead for their daily chores.

I saw groups of men and women heading towards the same direction, which I later learnt was the way towards the Golden Temple. Heads covered with their dupattas and pagadis, the kirpans forever hanging across their shoulders, the walk towards the gurudwara also was a daily ritual I presumed.

The first morning

After snacking on butter toast and drinking the milky tea from the hotel, we set out for our city tour. Our hotel, we learnt was very strategically located. While the Jallianwalla Bagh was just a stone throw away, the Golden Temple was at about a 50 meter distance.

The Temple visit (New Year at the Golden Temple), was quite exhausting as the blazing sun ensured that our energies would be sapped out. But when it comes to my husband, the exploring spirit always rules over so we didn't immediately get back to the hotel.

But before we walked towards Jallianwalla Bagh, we had to find a cyber cafe since there was something important to check. Our assumption was wrong and we had no difficulty in finding out a Internet cafe. After paying Rs 20 for ten minutes in the shady place, we walked towards Jallianwalla Bagh.

Memories of 1919

It didn't occur to us that we were visiting the fateful site of Jallianwalla Bagh exactly after 88 years of the massacre. It was April 13, the Baisakhi day when thousands of people had gathered in this park, unaware that for many it would be the last Baisakhi of their lives.

88 years later, the Bagh is a tourist spot. Be it in the peak summer afternoon or the warm evenings, we always found the place crowded. But it was not just the tourists but several localites also who were there for their daily walk.

We started having goosepimples the moment we walked down the narrow passage leading us to the bagh. An engraving in a stone read - People were fired at from here.

Our minds were busy, trying to get a picture of how those unarmed men and women must have struggled to preserve their precious lives. We walked further down and stood at a spot which gave us a good view of the place.

The soil, which was once wet with the blood of many innocent lives is now bed to so many flowering plants. The once barren ground where dead bodies were strewn across is now a lawn for visitors to walk.

It is hard to imagine that this place, now alive with the sounds of children, men and women was once a ground that saw one of the worst massacres.

But the reminders of April 13, 1919 are all over the place. Right at the entrance is a huge board explaining the massacre. Bang opposite it is a narrow passage which serves as an exhibition space.

Showcased here are pictures of some of the people who became the victims of General Dyer's cruelty, who later came to be known as the Butcher of Amritsar.

The narrow passage leads to a small room which houses a huge painting depicting the massacre.

The fountain built at the entrance of the park was attracting a lot of the crowd and also a group of wasps which were buzzing around the pool to keep itself cool.

A walk around the park and we found little boards across the walls reading 'Bullet Mark.' A walk across the Jallianwalla Bagh seemed like reading a chapter from our history books.

Our chapter culminated with a photography session at the shahidi kuan. The martyr's well, from which 120 bodies were taken out is now a spot where people gather and try to peep deep inside the well, as if the bodies will still be there.

The placard on which is written the details of the tragedy has a collage of signatures and messages. We wondered what kind of a show of patriotism was this to spoil the barely preserved historical site?

The houses built on the boundary of the park now have air conditioners to shield them from the scorching heat. As we slowly made out out of the park, I saw a little girl peering through the window of a house bordering the park ...

Culinary tales

We were really excited to taste the famous Punjabi cuisine. So before we headed to the Wagah border (An evening at the Wagah Border), we ordered a heavy lunch. Though the vegetarian paneer and roti were quite tasty, we still have nightmares about the non veg dishes. The uncooked chicken took a toll on my husband's stomach for the next one week!

The one meal we thoroughly enjoyed in the city was the one at the Brother's Dhaba. Thanks to a localite lady, who we bumped into on the street, we were guided to the place.

The tadka dal makhani and the shahi paneer had a typical taste so different from what is made in the restaurants in Delhi. Considering the amount of butter used, the famous Amritsari kulcha is sinful but surely worth the one-time calorie intake.

But it was the lassi which has stayed on to our taste buds till now. The sweet, creamy beverage gave us all the energy that the heat had taken away.

The food might be delicious but we felt quite uncomfortable with the crude serving of the waiters there. After experiencing the warmth of hospitality in Himachal and Rajasthan, this seemed little difficult for us to digest.

Too hot to shop

I sincerely apologize to the compulsive shoppers because I have no inputs to give them about shopping in Amritsar. Though we had heard from someone that the Punjabi juttis are very nice and affordable there, I had absolutely no intention to try chappal after chappal in 40 plus degrees.

The clothes market of the city was a mini version of the Chandni Chowk market. We were told that papars are a speciality of Amritsar and the number of papar shops confirmed it.

Still, we didn't even try to get into any of the shops. Though the sweet shops had nothing different from Delhi, we bought pinni to taste.

So long

Our Amritsar stay ended on the Vishu morning with we getting a taste of the helpful station staff who helped us get a duplicate ticket since we had lost the original one. There was no red tapism and unnecessary delays ... We happily boarded the Shatabdi back home.

An evening at the Wagah border

2007-04-19T14:38:00.000+05:30

A trip to the Wagah border to see the flag lowering ceremony of India and Pakistan sounded quite exciting.

But when I sat on the stadium overlooking both the borders, it was something else that fascinated me.

Here, sitting on each side of the fence were the kind of people I had probably only seen in the cricket matches.

For us, patriotism is a word so completely restricted to the history books that the sight at Wagah border seemed so out of the world.

As the Indian side of the stadium slowly filled up, a BSF jawan in a war cry kind of tone shouted Bharat Mata ki jai, Hindustan Zindabad, Vande Matram and in the backdrop were old patroitic movie songs like Nannna Munna rahi hoon. To give the jawan company were a 500 odd Indians who were more than eager to shout Bharat Mata Ki Jai.

Then began what seemed like a daily ritual run of Indians to the border gate holding the tri colour flag. In no time, around the jawans gathered clusters of men, women, old and young all fighting for a two minute possession of the national flag.

And I was there, wide eyed and jaws dropping in surprise seeing all this. Was it real patriotism or just an obsession to show love towards India in front of the estranged neighbours? I couldn't quite understand ...

A memorable journey

We were forewarned by the staff of our hotel not to reach the border too early. But getting the first chance to witness the daily ceremony at the only Indo-Pak road crossing, we didn't want to miss a thing.

So we set out from Amritsar at sharp 3.30 in the afternoon. While we could have travelled in a shared auto for the 30 km drive, the heat made us opt for a taxi.

The half hour drive took us through long stretches of the golden wheat fields ready for harvest. As I saw the board for the Attari international railway station, my mind instantly went back to the movie Veer Zara.

That was the closest I had seen of the Wagah border. Thoughts were racing across my mind ... it was on Samjhauta Express, the train bound to this very place to pass over to Pakistan, bombs recently took away so many innocent lives. For me, those things were just a part of the newspapers and television. Never did I know that I'll be here, driving across those very places.

We reached the border at 4.15, after stopping on the way to buy cold drinks since our cabby cautioned us that everything will be too expensive there.

We discovered that we were not the only earlybirds. The place was already quite crowded with scores of people waiting for the entry to begin.

At 4.30, people sprinted across the long stretch of road which led them to the stadium overlooking the border.

Almost everyone seemed so fascinated to look at what lies beyond the barbed wire. These fences would have separated the two countries for decades but the eagerness to know more about each other seems ever increasing.

The spectacle

The closest we have seen of the beating retreat is the January 29 ceremony on TV. But this beating retreat across the border was of a different kind. As I said earlier, the two-hour long wait was not uneventful.

The antics of the enthusiastic citizens kept us in rapt attention even as we struggled hard to keep our heads covered from the scorching sun.

Our neighbours were also busy cheering with the patriotic songs of their country. Suddenly to our amusement, we also heard an English track being played from the Pakistani side but we couldn't make out its patriotic connotation.

Pakistanis, though considerably less in number, seemed to be much more spirited. Somehow, their Pakistan Zindabad sounded much stronger than our Hindustan Zindabad.

As my husband busied himself with clicking picture after picture, my mind wandered along looking at the sets of people sitting across the border ... same dress, same language and same history.

We're all here sitting just a walk across from each other but still the distance is too far to be bridged. A man-made catastrophe which has given nothing but blood shed through all those years ...

Well, there was not much time to sit and think because I suddenly heard the songs being switched off and the Indian guards with long, red pagdi taking their positions at about 6 p.m.

A huge cry and we saw a jawan marching across to the gate. Ditto was the scene with the green uniformed jawans across the border.

Turn by turn, the finest fighters marched towards each other at amazing pace with their leg lifts that could tear any normal limbs apart.For about five minutes, the gates were flung open as the jawans from both the sides displayed their martial skills.

A salute and a hand shake and both were back in their own territories. The half an hour ceremony drew to a close as Indian and Pakistani flags were simultaneously lowered, respectfully folded and brought back.

As they dispersed, the Pakistanis could be seen frantically waving and trying hard to draw attention from the Indian side.

The sun had gone down by this time and at the Indian gate was going on an elaborate photo session as more and more people kept turning up and requesting for some more time to click pictures.

Some jawans were very friendly and it was obvious that they are used to entertaining such requests every day.

It was about this time when a White lady came up to me and struck a conversation. Clad in a cotton salwar kameez, the Irish who was accompanied by a Keralite nun seemed curious about our reaction to the gate closing ceremony.

Comparing it to the clash between North and South Ireland, she asked me if I thought this border dispute could ever be solved ... India seemed to have impressed her as she told me, "This country has something different in every place I go. These three months have been quite a learning experience for me."

I smiled at her thinking how even we are learning new things about this country every day ... Our Wagah border experience was also one of them.

New Year at the Golden Temple

2007-04-17T12:33:00.000+05:30

The spectacles of this huge country are far too undiscovered by its inhabitants (which of course includes us). And as we set out with our unsaid resolve to at least be called well travelled Indians, we stand dumbfounded at all the surprises in store for us.

So, I travel from the tip of the country, admiring the sheer beauty of the goddess at Kanyakumari to standing awestruck in front of a thousand odd devotees, ready to spend their lives in service of a Holy book ...

"This is real India," I told myself as I stood on the steps of the Harmandir Sahib Gurudwara, staring at the devotees, many of whom would be glad to breathe their last in the holy water which cradles the famous Golden Temple of Amritsar.

The marvel

With every step into the temple, I am transported into a world which is so unknown to me ...

The ears are treated to an array of melodious sounds coming somewhere from inside temple ... Is it Gurbani or Shabd Kirtan, we really can't make out but whatever it is, the sounds are soul stirring.

And as we try to go nearer to the music, our eyes dance with joy - nestled comfortably in the water is the beautiful marble structure, so perfectly capped by the sheet of gold.

Peering into the water from the narrow path leading to the main structure, one would think that an artist has so beautifully carved a reflection of the structure in the water... My thoughts immediately go back to the scene in Rang De Basanti shot at this temple.

Somehow, the spectacle doesn't sink in the first time you see it ... with every glance, it becomes more real and you regret not having seen it for so many years of your existence.

And as we stand inside the temple, the every source of music, the peaceful faces of those singing and praying almost mesmerised us. The melody created by their vocal chords and the harmoniums could have even ensured the attention of an atheist.

There was the Guru Granth Sahib, seated lovingly amidst a group of priests doting on it. The second floor of the golden dome was equally fascinating as we sat at the top and tried to get a bird's eye view of the proceedings downstairs.

This is the only part of the temple where photography is not allowed while at all the other parts, clicking of a camera is one of the most heard sounds.

They say, the temple is best viewed when illuminated at night, but we were very happy with our morning visit as the sun kissed domes sparkled into our eyes. Of course, there is no dearth of photographs of the Golden Temple.

But this encounter with the holiest spot of Sikhism on earth can't be captured in a frame or described in a travelogue ...

A New Beginning

Agreed, climate wise, it was not sensible to choose this time for an Amritsar visit. But then, do we always get a chance to spend the New Year at such a revered place? Between 13 and 14 of April, it was Vaisakhi for the Punjabi's, Vishu for the Malayalis, Poila Boisakh for the Bengalis and Puthandu for the Tamilians.

Well, for a while let's forget the regionalities, it was a new year for all of us. It was almost as if something drove us to spend this time of the year at the Golden Temple ... and though we won't deny that the heat took it's toll on us, never did we regret.

The small walk from our Hotel City Heart to the temple seemed never ending as we strove through people, people and more people to reach the temple on the Vaisakhi day ... Phew it was quite an effort by the time we deposited our slippers and soaked our feet in the stream of water at the entrance of the temple.

Even as we happily cleaned off the dirt and enjoyed the cold water, we noticed a devotee filling their bottle with the very same water ... faith is paramount.

But nothing prepared us for the sight inside. Encircling around the pond were swarms of devotees ... there were the Patiala salwar kameez clad women bathing their young ones, some men taking dips, while the others were busy cleaning the floor, dirtied by the feet of fellow devotees and some just sleeping on the floor listening to the hymns as lullabies.

The temple seemed like a bride, dressed up with a thousand ornaments ... The candles lit up all around the pool just took your breath away.

The ambiance seemed to give out a huge, warm invitation and we were there, sitting on the floor staring at this golden magic. We were back again at the same place at the crack of the dawn (it was 3.15 am).

The first Vishu morning after marriage for me was spent at the Golden Temple. It was the earliest time I had ever visited any temple.

Our Vishu morning was culminated with the yummy halwa which is distributed as prasad at the temple (how I wish it was more than a prasad!) This was quite a New Year's day for me ...

Beyond the golden splendour

In school, we had read chapters on India being a secular state but I saw the real meaning of secularism in the Harmandir Sahib gurudwara. From the moment I entered the gurudwara, my eyes couldn't help wander across the different sets of people.

While somewhere I could see nuns in groups, there were the cotton sari clad Bengali women wading their way through. I could also spot the South Indian women carefully covering their heads with pattu sari as they walked through the temple premises. And of course, there were the white ladies, elegantly dressed in salwar kameez.

Heads constantly covered (it is mandatory for entry to a gurudwara), each and everyone of them could be seen bowing down in sheer respect.

And then, there were the Sikh men and women, smiling warmly and welcoming them to their terrain. They were there, running around, distributing chapatis and dal at the langar (free food at the temple) to all and sundry.

The modest attire and the devotional eyes make everyone look alike- there is no rich and poor at the Golden Temple.

Thanks to a guide of a group of foreigners, we came to know that it was Guru Gobind Singh, the tenth Sikh guru who said that there should not be any living guru worshipped in the temple. So it is their holy book, the Guru Granth Sahib, for the service of which a sikh is ready to spend their lives.

Mentally thanking the group of foreigners, I wished the non-Sikhs could have had more access to the history that makes the Golden Temple what it is.

History beckons

My husband says I don't have an eye for detail and I willingly accept that shortcoming of mine. But had it not been for his keen eye, we would have just missed the Sikh museum which is buried somewhere near the entrance of the temple.

The flight of steep steps took us back in time. We were surrounded by paintings depicting Sikhism in different stages of life ...

Here were the sikhs, their steel bodies bearing the brunt of the cruelties by people of so many different eras. The real swords preserved
from the wars still shone ...

But there was one painting which still seemed to attract everyone - showcasing the brunt of Operation Blue Star, the caption ended with the message which read "the Sikhs took their revenge."

All's well

The loss of Sujith's Adidas floaters at the end of our Golden Temple visit, which was hurriedly left at the gate, didn't quite bother us. We knew that we are leaving behind a major part of ourselves at this place ... that's what the Golden Temple is all about.

At India's Cape with Good Hope

2007-04-10T18:31:00.000+05:30

Many years ago, when I would hear about Kanyakumari, it used to fascinate me. My god, you can see a confluence of three oceans here... I used to think, amazed but strangely, it never dawned on me that visiting the place could ever be a possibility.

And then, many years later, I heard a casual reference of Kanyakumari from my husband whose family is settled in Trivandrum. I learnt that Kanyakumari is about three hours away from my in-laws home.

I was excited as I asked Sujith if we could go there. "Yes we can try to," was the casual response. I was surprised to hear no excitement and no awe of the place. It was only later when I learnt that going to Kanyakumari is a routine for these people and they are no tourists there.

Though they often plan a vacation to Kanyakumari, they were little amused by my fascination towards the place.

However, a trip was arranged and it was supposed to be a three night and 2 day visit. Thanks to my mother-in-law's job at the Census Directorate, our stay was arranged at the Central Government Employees Holiday Inn.

Oceans, Shopping and Tranquility

We, my father and mother-in-law and my sister-in-law with her two little daughters reached Kanyakumari towards evening after brief visits to the temples at Pallugal (my mother-in-law's family deity) and Tirchendur (I will write more about this in the posts to come).

As our car approached the road to our Guest House, I saw and heard the waves welcoming me. From a distance, the road we were taking seemed to abruptly end somewhere. But of course, the concrete road gave way to the beach.

First things first, a visit to the beach was an absolute must before settling down. So the car was parked and we walked (I almost rushed) to the beach. Suddenly, there I stood overlooking an expanse of water ... I looked towards my feet and was quiet for a moment. I was standing on the Indian Ocean with the water from the Arabian sea and Bay of Bengal softly caressing my feet.

It was amazing ... the sheer creation of nature. Somewhere in the ocean, I would see the Vivekananda Rock Memorial staring at us. So this where the Swami swam and came?

The others were busy controlling the 3-year-old girl with us who was insisting to wet herself fully in water without anybody's help! I was of no help to them because I was standing speaking to myself, thanking my in laws for bringing me to this place.

And now, we had to see something which makes tourists shell out potfulls of money — the sunset. It was the perfect time as the sun was about to drown. We drove up to the sunset point (which was just a few meters away from our guest house).

We all badly needed to put our legs to rest and sat around the place with cups of tea. The cool breeze blowing across the ocean acted as a tranquilizer to our bodies.

There were clusters of eager people like me who were going to see this sight for the first time. And suddenly I saw everybody looking to one side.

Yes, there it was, the crimson ball gently going down the water. The sight was truly breathtaking ... the water seemed to open it's hands and cradle the sun so comfortably in its fold. Well, this was some view. Immediately, the crowd dispersed but we sat and chatted for sometime and finally got up to retire to our guest house.

For the others with me, it was like homecoming and even I felt so homely at the place. I was still little lost thinking that i'm actually at the land's end of India...

My meticulous in laws instantly chalked out the plans for the rest of our stay. Next day early morning, we would go to see the sunrise, get back to the hotel, freshen up and then visit the Kanyakumari temple, do some window shopping and return back to the hotel by lunch time (which by the way is 1 o clock for them). After that we were supposed to go to a water theme park for the children's sake.

There was no way I would be lazy to get up the next morning. We were up at five and by six we rushed to the sunrise point. It was quite crowded and very badly maintained. But surprisingly, people still thronged to the place and stayed put amidst the garbage lying there.

After all, who would want to miss a sunrise at Kanyakumari? The wait was for quite sometime and in between a crow nicely released itself on my hand! I had to go up to the water to clean it... and to be honest, I really didn't mind since I got a chance to go near the sea again.

We stood there for a long time as the clouds played pranks on us. We overheard some people saying it will be cloudy throughout the day, the sun won't come out ... no point wasting your time.

Many people even started going... I was so crestfallen as I was just about to lose my first opportunity to see the sunrise I heard so much about.

We almost turned back when Sujith suddenly shouted that sun's coming up... His camera instantly started snapping as we all looked to the direction.

The ocean, which had so lovingly put the sun to sleep was sending it back to wake all of us up. It was enchanting and I found it difficult to take my eyes off. I could hear people saying that because of the clouds, it is not as beautiful as it generally looks.

But to me, it really didn't matter ... I got a chance to see some of the most beautiful sunrises and sunsets.

Sometime after I had marvelled at the sunrise, I stood and admired the Kanyakumari Devi, looking so delicate and lovely in the temple, smiling and blessing all her devotees, her famous nose ring illuminating the eyes of the eager onlookers.

I was blessed they told me, since I got an opportunity to see her being bathed and then the arathi. So many times, I thanked whoever is up there of everything that he is giving me.

This place was full of surprises for me, I realised after taking a walk down the market. The well stocked market would stump any traveller. You get all sorts of miscellaneous things, from saris for Rs 80 to shells curtains for Rs 300.

There were shops selling everything for five rupees and wonderful footwear for Rs 70. Shopping was an absolute must but it had to wait till the evening because no one will be able to take the blinding heat.

Kanyakumari, once a part of Kerala, still has a lot of Travancore even after years of being a part of the Tamil Nadu. So, most people could speak Malayalam and the food also had similarities.

With instructions from my mother-in-law, our lunch was also typically malayali with the traditional thoran, sambhar and fish. The only difference was that we were served white rice instead of the typical red rice. I enjoyed the meal but was informed later that the non-veg dishes were tastier.

The water park visit was one of the most exciting experiences of our trip. Spread over a huge area, Baywatch, as it was called, was a beautifully constructed water park. After getting a good discount for the tickets, we decided to visit the wax museum first.

Considering that Baywatch has the first wax museum in India, I felt that it deserves more publicity in the North.

For us, it was the Madame Tussauds of India and we excitedly examined the wax statues. Our hair raised when we saw M.S. Subbulakshmi carved showing tears in her eyes, which often was the case when she used to sing.

The rest of the statues were also quite impressive and I kept wondering why haven't they publicised this one of a kind place.

The kids were getting impatient to get into the water but we decided to sample the other joy rides first. My sis-in-law and mom-in-law were in their enthusiastic best as they got on to all those rides they thought they
could manage.

Here, I have to confess that I was the old lady who didn't dare to get into any fast moving rides fearing I would puke! In between my dear father-in-law treated us to some yummy mango bars.

Now, it was time to get into the water and just then we were told that the waves are going to be started soon in the wave pool. The children were excited as they soaked themselves into water in the almost real looking waves.

But it was the other water rides which made us kids at least for an hour. Doing a big show of bravery, I got into a slide in the kids pool! But I was immediately pulled to the bigger rides by my husband.

Looking at the long, scary slides that would lead us directly into the water, I decided not to try it out. But who am I to decide alone? I was forced to sit into one of the slides with my hubby ... Sliding down we went with me shouting at the top of my voice.

Well, I thoroughly enjoyed it ... But our excitement doubled when we succeeded in forcing our sister to join us. The darling that she is, she not only agreed to accompany me, she also was quite excited! It was great fun as our threesome repeated this till our legs allowed us.

Somewhere down there, we could hear the kids shouting to their mother to come down to the small rides but their mother was kidnapped by us. Mom and dad-in-law were enjoying looking at us and clicking our pictures ... Ah, what an experience it was... Our energies were giving up but the prospect of shopping again rejuvenated us!

We raided the sari and footwear shop. I was strictly commanded to keep my mouth shut as the other ladies with me conversed expertly with the shopkeepers in Tamil.

Kerala House where we had our dinner was an impressive place. The tall ceiling and the ancient feel of it was so soothing. Situated right at the seashore, one could hear the waves lapping up every minute. It was a much awaited Kerala meal for the people with me as we got back to our Guest House contented.

The night there was awesome ... the only sounds to be heard was of the ocean as I and Sujith took a small walk within our guest house. We were supposed to leave early next day but especially for me, a trip was planned to the Vivekananda Rock Memorial.

Why everyone was reluctant for the visit I realised when I got into the boat which took us to the rock. Dilapidated and ancient, the boat was ill-equipped for any contingency.

Carrying about 70 people, I counted exactly 10 available life jackets on the boat. My visit to the rock memorial and the Thiruvallur statue was very ordinary when I compared it to the excitement I felt reaching Kanyakumari.

The one thing which kept crossing my mind throughout the trip was that it will take just a tsunami to destroy all this... what would have happened to all the shopkeepers and the inhabitants of this place on that fateful day when the word tsunami became known throughout the world? Well, one really can't escape the curses of nature ...

Bags packed and smiles intact, we were just getting ready to get into the car, when my husband came and asked me if the little girl had come to our room ... She had not I casually replied and returned back to my phone conversation with mom.

In between I could see people rushing here and there when I kept the phone and rushed outside. The little one was missing I learnt... Just how helpless we are in situations like this...

Everyone, including each and every staff of the guest house was frantically shouting and running around. I stayed back convincing my father-in-law to sit back and relax. I was afraid he will have a heart attack ...

She was found sitting right below her mother's bed sampling every content of her mom's vanity case ...

The little angel was completely unaware of what she had done to our poor hearts ... Thanking God, we were swiftly on our way back home.

A Villa in the Woods

2007-04-08T18:20:00.000+05:30

There is nothing new I can tell about Shimla. The erstwhile British summer Capital and one of the most popular hill stations of the country, this place has no surprises to spring on the discerning traveler.

And yet we decided to go to Shimla... Since we were constantly scolded for going for our honeymoon along with five other people (which included two children), we almost felt pressurised to go for our 'real' honeymoon!

But, why Shimla?

Well, it so happened that during a cleaning process in my husband's office, a visiting card fell on his desk and he by chance looked at it. The card said Woodville, Shimla. Curiosity led to an Internet search and this is what he found - Woodville Palace is one of those beautiful hotels in Shimla which the town can boast about.

But this is not what prompted us to go there. What really inspired this decision was that Swami (Sai Baba) had also stayed there (I wonder he had sent the visiting card to us).

Back home, I was offered, "Let's go to Shimla for three days this week." Not being the instinctive decision maker type, I was apprehensive and skeptical. But promptly, the website was shown to me and I was impressed.

One call to Woodsville and the booking was made. We seemed to have got a nice room at an okay cost. Even after the tickets were bought for the to and fro bus journey, till the last minute I kept wondering, "are we really going?" It was natural, considering the way things were planned.

But in no time, I found myself in the bus comfortably seated right behind the driver's seat. The paranthas lovingly packed by mommy were gobbled down at the Delhi ISBT itself. Rest of the seven hour journey was after all, meant to be spent dozing off.

By the time, we reached Kalka, I started getting jittery and instantly ate the Avomine I had carefully kept in my pocket (I've always hated the ride to the hill stations).

It worked and I peacefully slept straight till I heard some people shouting Shimla, Shimla. As soon as we descended from the bus, we realised we were shivering. The light woollens on our body were doing no good and we wanted to somehow reach our hotel.

Our cab fellow turned out to be a talkative man and we launched our questionnaire. "How is this Woodville Hotel?" I asked. "Arre madam woh to mahal jaisa hai," we were offered. So Internet is reliable, we wondered. But it was still too early to say what our instincts will lead to.

Woodville Palace Hotel, Shimla

The drive through the elevated concrete jungle called Shimla was what really made us greatful for choosing Woodville Palace Hotel to stay. A little further up from the Governor's bunglow was situated this beautiful haven nestled amidst acres of greenery. Very much a part of the city, but still it felt as though we left the bustling city far behind when our car wound up to the entrance.

The reception area was kept warm with the huge heater and the warmth of the people of the hotel was written clear on the faces of the minimalistic morning staff. The room we had asked for was to get free by 12 and we were offered to relax in another room till then.

No advance taken and no background check done, we walked softly through the wooden floor and reached our room. Despite knowing that this wasn't where we were supposed to spend the next couple of days, my dear husband made it loud and clear that we weren't too happy with the room.

We'll talk about that later, let's rest for sometime was my response as I snuggled into the cosy quilt. Sometime later, sitting in the dining hall, devouring the lovely eggs, sandwiches and tea, we admired the tastefully done castle. Looking at some of the pictures put up, we came to know that this place was the palace of the Jubbal royal family and had a colourful historical background.

But everything else had to wait since the most pressing task of the moment was getting into the room we want. The small walk leading to the reception gave us another opportunity to marvel at the beauty Woodville was.

We could choose between two available rooms within our budget, we were told. Rejecting a stylish and modern room on the first floor, we chose an ancient looking place on the ground floor. Our two days can be spent in the sanctity of this room, we told each other happily the moment the hotel staff walked out after dropping our luggage.

Our den was beautiful- two sets of the windows overlooking the beautifully kept garden and the hills overlooking the hotel just melted our hearts. The furnishing was exactly according to our
taste. A huge cosy cot with a bed like sofa right opposite. The dressing table, study table and the big chest were all wooden.

But the two things which gave us the ultimate glee were the tall heater and the larger than life geyser! The bath tub wasn't too big but the heater compensated for all as we excitedly anticipated the elaborate steam bath we could have.

But the Avomine that had saved me and my fellow passengers of my puking session was just not willing to let me do anything else. I was compelled to sleep and so the poor man with me was also forced to postpone his craving for exploration.

The shower after the luxurious nap was blissful. For someone who doesn't even need to walk a kilometer to catch a transport to get to work, the walk to the mall road seemed tiring but relaxing.

Both of us had vague memories of walking down this road as children with our parents. And we went on to check out the places we remembered- "Where is that Chinese shoe shop? Where's Indian Coffee House?" Childhood memories are fond, Aren't they?

No shopping today, I was strictly instructed. So I satisfied myself with window shopping and some phone calls. As the sun went down, Woodville was pulling us back. With no transport allowed on the mall road, we had to depend on our feet to get back as soon as possible.

Home sweet home was how we felt when we got back.

The staff was instructed to call us when the dinner was ready. Meanwhile, it was time to switch on the TV set. Such was the magic of the place that my husband even relented to watch a Shah Rukh Khan movie with me! And we spent about one hour seeing SRK as bhoot in Paheli.

The hotel website isn't wrong when it says Woodville is a gastronomical delight. Each and every meal of the place was a treat to our tastebuds. To add to the flavour of the already tempting meal, the dining space was almost like a private meal hall.

The hotel staff just seemed to disappear when we would start eating. And miraculously appear when we needed something. Our appetite shot up in the cold weather and the wonderful ambiance.

The vegetarian stuff like palak paneer, yellow dal, mushroom curry and much more just melted in the mouth. As far as the non-veg was concerned, it is probably Woodville that prompted Sujith to start eating non-veg again.

Even the simple cheese sandwich tasted yummy in that place. We reprimanded ourselves a thousand times when we decided to have our lunch outside the next day. But considering the walking distance and the absolutely necessary shopping, we didn't have too much choice.

It was time for a brief hotel tour before venturing out to the mall road again the next day. But it was the garden where we got stuck and the tour was forgotten. Taking a small flight of stairs down the garden, we spotted this cottage type looking place called The House of the Rising Sun.

The only source of information there was this worker who was busy painting a placard. We came to know that this is the latest addition to this hotel which was inaugurated by Amitabh Bachchan. The man was too eager to speak about the hotel he obviously loved and told us that this is probably the best located hotel in the town.

We were also told that this is where the movie Black was shot. No wonder the house shown in the movie looked so royal! We understood that we had to end the conversation which could have gone on for hours together.

This time, I was quite excited walking down to the mall. After all, it was the shopping day. We walked past a bunch of school kids walking uphill whose red cheeks reminded us of the pale looking kids back home. Instead of shopping on the mall, we took a road leading us to a local type market.

We still don't know if the rates were actually cheaper but my husband's purse was surely emptied at the shawl shop. This routine was followed religiously and on our way back, we realised that we needed another bag to carry the proof of my extravaganza!

A Tibetan shop was our refuge where we bought a bag and since we had such a huge bag now, I picked up few woolen socks also. I was scolded then for splurging but even now I'm told that I could have bought a few more shawls to gift people!

The hotel still needed some exploration and we couldn't leave it without that. The lobby with comfy sofas had some amazing collection of rare art pieces. On the one hand was the face of an animal hunted by a raja and on the other was a beautiful Maharani Gayatri Devi which was once stolen and then later restored. We thought of having a drink at the Hollywood Retro Bar which has signed photographs of the 1930's stars such as Robert Taylor, Spencer Tracy and many more.

But considering the unnecessary cost involved, we decided against it and climbed up to explore the upper floors. The nights at Woodville were amazingly calm. Even with most of the rooms occupied, as we walked down the garden, it felt as though it was our private space. Sometime in the middle of the night, we could hear tapping on the wooden floor, but that didn't bother us.

But what really struck us about this hotel was the happiness on the faces of each and every hotel staff. At a time when the word contentment is ready to be removed from the dictionary, the
Woodville staff seemed completely out of this world.

At any time of the day, we could stop a staff and they were ready with his stories of the hotel- the stories ranged from their experiences with the pricey Ajay Devgan to the fan friendly Big B. But the most colourful stories were about the hotel owners.

"Every year, some of the hotel staff is taken along with the owner for a vacation," was shared eagerly. The ever-smiling faces dripping with warmth seem obvious when we were told that the staff is given a substantial raise every year. Well, how we wish there were more Woodville in this world!

This information explained us the classy behaviour of the managers.

Settling the bill seemed like a pleasure as we dropped a hefty tip in the box. The concluding part of the journey became a little strenuous as we fell short of cash and a non functional ATM ensured that our BP's rise.

Even after collecting all the change in our wallet, we were Rs 50 short of the full taxi amount. But with God's grace, the cab driver decided to waive the amount and give us our remaining hours of peace. Back in the bus, we talked fondly of Woodville vowing to visit again...

A date with a 14th Century Fort

2007-04-07T14:15:00.000+05:30

To say that we had become sick of our daily routine when we decided to take a break would be an understatement.

The daily chaos of our respective offices had probably got us to a stage of crashing. But to avoid any tussle with our bosses, we decided to keep it for our off day.

One day break it would be, we decided. And the fact that it was the Valentine’s Day eve added the romantic element!

Our decision to explore the Neemrana property at Alwar was the result of my husband’s hours of web search and then finally on instinct.

The Neemrana Fort Palace was already booked and only a suite was available which was to cost something above 6000 per person per night. Well, that sounded little too extravagant.

Our holiday plans almost got shelved when my better half discovered this another Neemrana property near Alwar. Another call to the Nizamuddin office of Neemrana and we found out that there’s a room available at the Hill Fort, Kesroli costing Rs 3,500.

Again extensive Internet research and we found the fort palace quite attractive. The hotel phone lines were not reachable we didn’t want to make any advance booking at the head office.

So after hours of discussion we finally planned to take the plunge and just embark on our journey in the morning, hoping to get the room.

Off we went at sharp 5. The road instructions written in my untidy handwriting in my diary and some unreachable phone numbers were all we were armed with.

To make the beginning even more filmy, heavy rainfall and an overcast sky greeted us when had just about reached Gurgaon. Trying to keep a steady conversation with our cab driver, Sujith was keeping his fingers crossed. The huge blanket type shawl I decided to keep came quite handy as we wrapped ourselves in it.

It was sensible not to stop anywhere but of course the driver had to have his tea break and we stopped at a shady looking place midway. It was freezing outside and that kind of increased our excitement for the trip. We started approaching our destination at around 8.15. The diary instructions did come handy as the ever helpful Rajasthani people guided us to the place.

The Hill Fort, Kesroli

12 kilometers away from the city of Alwar, the drive up to this fort turned heritage hotel seemed like a chase to no man’s land. As the car chased a narrow path in a seemingly thinly populated village we wondered if there can ever be a hotel in such a place.

But there was and we found it standing proudly a few meters away in the road we took. It looked quite dilapidated and a far cry from the beautiful photo we found on the Neemrana website.

It didn’t seem quite as dilapidated when we came to know that it is the oldest heritage hotel in the country. Well, this 14th century fort has surely stood the test of time, we thought.

Our driver was given instructions to wait since we were not even sure of getting a room.

A steep staircase led us to the hotel. There was no well groomed receptionist greeting us at the reception there. Instead a kuta pyjama clad, graceful looking man approached us. Out came the big fat register to check the status of the rooms available. But in the ancient ambiance, the absence of a computer didn’t even strike us.

Yes, a room was available which was to cost us Rs 3,500 for a day and night. The food charges were separate of course. The atmosphere had already enamored us and we were ready to shell out the cash. Payment made, we were ready to check out our room.

A twin bedded Papiha Mahal was what we zeroed down on after rejecting a double bedded Tota Mahal. The name was a little deceptive considering the size of the rooms.

At least the two Mahal’s we saw weren’t too big. But one step into the mahal, and we were transported into a different era. Everything from the walls and the furniture had an ancient touch.

The only sounds to be heard were the chirping of the birds, the cow and the tractor. But there was not too much time to sit and marvel as our stomachs growled for food and we rushed to the breakfast buffet.

With huge cane sofa like chairs, the dining space was quite cosy and comfortable with birds giving us company as they kept descending every five minutes to check if there’s something worth pecking.

We filled ourselves to the brink with break rolls, fruit cake and omelette. Nothing traditional about it, the breakfast like a meal cooked by a loving mother.

A selection of tea leaves from the Neemrana tea gardens were there to choose from. Refreshing, the tea seemed like a perfect end to our hearty breakfast.

This time when we went back to our rooms, it dawned on us that here there is no television set to keep us occupied! So, it was just the two of us and the rustic surrounding for company.

Bath can wait, it was more important to discover the place, we decided. Three of us-- me, him and our camera set out to discover the place.

As we explored the property, we found that we were probably the only Indians staying the place that time. All the rest of the place was occupied by people the goras who seemed to have been enjoying a long vacation there in the Indian countryside.

On our little exploration spree, we finally climbed on to a place that gave us a view which is still etched in our memory. Perched on a slightly balcony of the fort, our eyes were treated to an expanse of a lush green field. On the left side was the village Kesroli whose menfolk were now in the field with their cattle.

For us, fed on a daily diet of an air mixed with every toxic element in the atmosphere, this sight almost seemed like a dream. Cattle was the Maruti 800 here and the tractor the luxurious big car!

Well, what else can one ask for? Of course we know that this is not how the place would look like in two months from now. The lush green field would be replaced by a parched land and there would be an ever present look of thirst in the faces of the happy villagers now. It will surely be easy on our pocket, we were told by the waiter later.

But it was the parrots which caught the fancy of my husband who went wild clicking one after the other. Oh yes, I was also obliged to be in some of the frames with the parrot seemingly sitting over my head!

Not his fault of course, in Delhi, parrots can only be found nicely locked up in their cages being trained to imitate the cruel human conversation. But here, they were freely flying around, unaware of the luxury of the freedom they have.

After the photography session, we retired to our room where the elaborate hot water bath soothed our nerves.

No fuss over dressing, we marched for lunch almost in our night wear. Forget a candlelight dinner, we’ll have an open air lunch was what we decided.

The food shall be served in our favourite balcony, we ordered as we sat marveling at the quiet around us.

It was no ordinary lunch as we devoured our chapattis with broccoli, paneer, potato, chicken roast, baby corn, cabbage and dal. A little rice and curd for our south Indian taste buds and we were sure that we’ve had one of the best meals in a long while. The cream caramel and payasam ended the meal perfectly.

And now, our only thought was how fast can we hit the bed. Time moves surprisingly slow at such places as it was only 2.30 when we drifted into our sweet slumber.

When my eyes opened, I wondered where I was. It was probably the best afternoon nap, I’ve enjoyed in years. The mobile phone told me it has been three hours since I’ve been sleeping.

Wondering if I’ll be able to sleep at night, my husband was woken up. how sleep starved we were, I discovered later in night!

Since Alwar was just next door, we thought we should at least pay a visit once. Moreover, my mother had ordered me to buy a sweet which is the specialty of that place. What sweet it was, it was left to me to discover.

The 12 km journey was not pleasant as the chaotic roads gave us a trailer of what awaits us in Delhi.

The market was all shut but thanks to the eager-to-help people, we discovered the most famous sweet shop.

Kalakand, the sweet was we discovered that the place has a street dedicated to this sweet which is called Kalakand market.

We found out and reached the 60 year old, famous shop. With the suggestions of the unassuming owner, we bought small boxes.

Curious to find out the reason behind closed shops, we probed further and were told, “It is Tuesday, the day when the shopkeepers go to Sadar Bazar in Delhi.”

We longed to get back to the quiet of our fort, after all, it was just a one-night luxury for us! Night time, the fort looked beautiful. Illuminated with lots of small bulbs, it was a lovely sight.

But now, for the first time, we felt the place was too quiet and some company would have been welcome. The firangs, it seemed felt none of this as they happily downed bottles of wine at the dinner table.

The dinner was not something to boast about but soothing it surely was. It’s probably 12 or something, we thought when we reached back to our room, but it was actually just 10 pm.

We settled in our beds and chatted till what seemed like ages, but it was only 11 we discovered. Surprisingly, we again had a dreamless sleep and got up fresh at 8.

We didn’t feel nostalgic about leaving but we were full of sweet memories of the one day we spend at The Hill Fort, Kesroli.

After another photography session, it was the payment time. Some amount was paid in cash and the rest we were to pay by our debit card. I was having a cheerful conversation with a British lady who wanted to know where was Fab India in Delhi, when I overheard the hotel manager saying we can’t accept a debit card because our phone line isn’t working.

Ah, now we know why no one picked up the phone when we called from Delhi. But here was another problem at hand. The American Express card came as a boon as it saved us a 24 km drive to Alwar to find an ATM. The security check they asked for was only our mobile number. Well, talk about trusting a person!

After checking out the well stocked but over priced Neemrana Shop, we were on our way back to Delhi, dreaming of staying in the Neemrana Fort Palace on the next chance we have.

Bikkupedia?

2007-04-06T14:16:00.002+05:30

Bikkupedia will be Bikku & me and the world as we see it.

The places, people, food, our excitements and disappointments.

Read on if you want to be part of our journey ... We promise you it will be exciting by the day.