Just What were u thinking...

The Falling Star

2012-02-03T06:02:00.000-08:00

I was in my hometown - Mysore, a city steeped in history and culture and also a runners’ paradise with parks, lakes and hills. Kukkenahalli Kere(‘Kere’ means lake in Kannada) is amongst the most serene places to run. Early morning is the best time to put on running shoes and hit the road; a blanket of mist covers the trail along with an eerie silence that is broken by the cadence of one’s own footsteps and a few painted storks clacking gracefully to court the females of their species rather early in the day. That’s until the city wakes up and the trail becomes a maze where runners are forced to dodge walkers. A few resting on the cement benches warily scrutinize runners wearing fuel belts and other fancy gadgets and loudly pass glib remarks about whimsical people who willingly subject themselves to pain and laughter. Overall a charming place to live in and run daily. And that’s where I met speedy Gonzales, a 19 year old engineering student named Ponappa.

As usual, my run started with a brief and frustrating struggle to get the satellite signal in my GPS watch. When I reached the park, I stopped for a few moments to find a hiding place for my Gatorade energy drink. I decided to consume fluids only in the third lap of the 4k loop around the lake and saw no need to carry it for 8k. As I emerged from the thorny bush that served as my hiding place, I saw two runners blazing through and decided to catch up and run with them. Their muscular physique and graceful movement led me to conclude that they were from a local sports school but they turned out to be engineering students. Ponappa and Vivek were in their elements running fast and I was breathing hard with my fists clenched but determined to keep up. I told myself that my body was still in recovery after Mumbai Marathon and that it would take time to return to usual running pace. The half-truth had the intended placebo effect and I kept up with the youngsters.

After the first loop was over, Vivek dropped out having pulled a muscle. By now I was intrigued and casually brought up the topic of “best timing” like I was talking about the weather or the picturesque trail. When runners meet for the first time, this question serves as means to break the ice and determines who is higher up in the pecking order. “12k in 39 mins is my best and I am the current University record holder for that distance”, Ponappa proclaimed. The fact that I was running fast and breathing heavily with my mouth wide open, consuming at least a couple of flies every lap, renders redundant usage of the phrase “my jaws dropped”. But it did in a way. Ponappa’s race-time pace was truly beyond my running ability. I had been relegated to play second fiddle and slowed down for my own well-being. I was running with a superstar, somebody who in amateur running circles would have been the cynosure of all. The youngster was of course was oblivious to all that.

Ponappa had never run more than 12k, no doubt due to PT coaches who would have warned him that he would lose his pace if he ran longer distances. When I told him I was planning to run 16k, he surprised me by gamely agreeing to give me company till the end. Like any runner, he hated running alone and seemed to thrive on company. He took on the role of my coach during our run, reminding me to loosen my arms and swing it proportionally and sometimes advising me to change running form once in a while to break the monotony. Overall he was running at a slower pace only for my benefit and seemed to be itching to run at his usual pace. At the last kilometer I gave him the thumbs up sign and he took off like a spring chicken. He was patiently waiting at the finish point and we completed our post run stretches beside the lake. He was curious about my GPS watch and how it calculated the average running pace and I gave him a brief demo of the system. We parted with me promising to catch up with him for a run the next time I visited Mysore. Something tells me I might never see him running again.

If Ponappa had been born in China, he would have been identified by talent spotters the minute he showed potential and enrolled into a government run sports school, a veritable cauldron that produces world class athletes. If he had been in Kenya, he would have run day in and day out with a single minded intensity to become a world beater. From my brief chat with him, I think his future in India has all the makings of a well-known tragedy that athletes of our country have endured for decades. Once his next semester starts, attending lectures and labs exams would supersede running; a few years on, he would settle into one of the multitudes of body-shops in Bangalore, run the rat-race called life and probably take up running as a hobby late in life. He would be just another potential long distance runner that our nation lost to engineering a.k.a ‘making a living’.

Is it worth all the pain?

2012-01-29T06:57:00.000-08:00

      A friend asked me this question when he saw me limping ostentatiously having just finished my first ultra marathon distance of 50k the previous day- “Is it worth all this pain?” “Why that question? Why not just congratulate me and get on with making a living writing code”, I thought. The answer is straightforward. We Indians are obsessed with value in any transaction or activity, be it mileage of our cars or the best value-for-money restaurant nearby. When running marathons, you spend good money and return home walking looking like a Hyderabad auto just ran over your foot; clearly poor return on investment.

   “Absolutely worth every moment of it”, I replied instinctively and without much reasoning. Stupid question I thought. Would you ever ask a woman who just spent loads of money getting the latest pedicure whether it was worth it? Of course not, though I suspect mainly for personal well being sake. I probably came off sounding as a masochist who loved suffering and pain with that answer but that is not true, at least not completely. Seeing that nothing more was forthcoming he offered me the usual platitudes like “You’re an Inspiration”, “Great performance” etc. and we both moved on. But for some reason the question, like some bad memory, rankled me for quite some time.

   A couple of weeks later, the good folks in the HR department of my company organized a talk by Mark Inglis – mountaineer, researcher, wine-maker and motivational speaker. As a rule I steer clear away from motivational speakers who never achieve much in their own lives and remain in business mainly due to their superior oratorical skills. But Inglis is a doer, so I was eager to attend his talk. He had an interesting tale for us, the story of his life.

   Mark Inglis started his life as a mountaineer and ended up having to amputate both his legs due to frost bite after being stuck in a small cave on top of Mount Cook in New Zealand due to an intense blizzard. With his chosen career path no longer a livelihood option, he returned to University to earn a degree in Biochemistry, become a wine-maker and also cycled his way to Silver medal in the Sydney 2000 Paralympics. Twenty years later, he took up mountaineering again, conquered Mount Cook and later become the first double amputee to conquer Mount Everest. Inglis had us mesmerized for more than an hour with his gritty and poignant tale.

   So when he threw the floor open for questions, there was only one question that came to my mind – “Is it worth all the pain?” “Absolutely”, he replied, “When you chase adventure, suffering is an occupational hazard”. The look of pride in his eyes said it all. I might have as well asked Alexander the Great it conquering all those lands served any purpose. I realized that some questions cannot be answered with words alone.

   Now I am going to risk sounding as didactic as one those hollow motivational speakers that I love to hate and tell you what I really think is the reason why people ask that question. Most Indians are so busy surviving and making a living they look forward to very little in life, let alone adventure or sport. So when somebody else chases that dream, it is sometimes regarded as a vain pursuit. This must and hopefully will change once we reach a certain standard of living. And once we get there we might even learn to enjoy suffering, much like what Rafael Nadal said after losing an epic five setter to Djokovic in the Australian Open 2012 finals - "When you are fit and have passion for the game, when you are ready to compete, you are able to suffer and enjoy suffering".

SCMM 2012 - A taste of Mumbai - Part 2

2012-01-19T00:00:00.000-08:00

I finished among the top 50 in India's premier marathon (48th actually but a top 50 finish nevertheless!). The story of my running life is a bit of a fairy tale – an average runner who put in the miles, got good at running, managed to have loads of fun along the way and finally reaped the benefits of those long hours spent on the road. But unlike fairy tales my story does not have an ending, just good days and a few not-so-good ones. The 42.2k run at the Standard Chartered Mumbai marathon-2012 was one of those very good days.

My entire strategy revolved around sticking with Kothandapani, a 54 year old veteran runner from Bangalore, for the entire course of the run and completing the race in 3 hrs and 30 mins. Pani Sir is ex-air force and the sort of person you would see and say “Boy, I wish I were half as fit as he is when I hit 50”. I arrived a bit late at the start point and ended up at the start point with very little warm-up. At the 500m mark, I caught up with Pani Sir who was running with his usual running partner, Bobby Thomas from Bangalore. The three of us maintained a steady pace with Bobby and Pani Sir keeping an eye one their GPS Watches to ensure that we are on track for a 3:30 finish.

It was my first run in Mumbai and I was pleasantly surprised at the support of local people who were handing out home prepared lime juices and biscuits to marathoners – not something you see in other cities in India. My strategy for the run was to use Gu Gels and water for hydration. I carried five gel packs with me and planned to use one every 45 mins. At the 10k mark, we were running comfortably and I used my first gel pack. At the 15k mark, we started running across the beautiful sea link bridge. At the 16k mark, Bobby told us that the pace was too much for him and slowed down. Truthfully the pace was a bit too much for me as well, but I held on with Pani Sir and took to counting my strides – a useless exercise but it helped focus and cut down external factors.

We hit the half marathon point (21.1k) in 1:42 mins. I have learnt that whatever my pace at the beginning, I always slowed down at the end of the race so saving a couple of minutes in the first half of the race seemed fine. At this rate we were all set to finish well within our target time of 3:30. But the marathon is an unpredictable beast – there are always decisions to make and things do go wrong.

At around the 29k mark, both of us had slowed down by at least 10 seconds/km. At the 36k mark, we had to run up a steep 50m road and slowed by around a min. My thoughts running up that hilly road – “What have I gotten myself into”. At the 38k mark, we were running with the Half Marathoners, rather I was running in pain and most of them were walking, shouting and having fun. Weaving around the slower half-marathoners and avoiding outstretched arms of the volunteers was even more taxing. I gave up pretensions of running and began walking. Bad decision, a pain shot up from my heels to my knees and I returned to running. At the 40k mark it got tougher and I kept repeating to myself something my friend Steve told me during one of our runs together – “There will come a point in the race when you think you are down and out, that’s when you gotta commit”.

I finished the marathon in 3 hours 38 minutes and 52 seconds, around half an hour faster than my previous best. At the end of the run I felt no “runners high”, only the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion and a bit of joy at having completed the course. I felt gutted physically which means I gave the run my best effort. Felt even more gutted when we were made to wade through a 10 min long queue like cattle to reach the refreshment/medal counter and found no medical station in sight at Azad Maidan to ice my tired legs. Clearly pain comes first, the joy later.

At the end point with other runners from Hyderabad Running club.

For amateur marathoners, the open-category marathon result is an interesting study- link. Guys like Anik/Pramod who did the first 15k in around 58 mins ended up in 13th and 15th rank respectively while Gary, Steven and Gerald who did 15k in around 1:03 ended up with better positions. Clearly folks who had the better strategy won out at the end of the day, not necessarily the fastest or the strongest.

The elation of my good finish time is yet to sink in. One of those good days indeed. But lessons need to learnt even in a victory – I have realized that it was the lack of sufficient strength of core section that took its toll during the second phase of the run, so I am still a work in progress. At the beginning of the running season, my goal was to run a sub-4 hour full marathon and with that accomplished, new goals beckon. I generally do not use quotes in my blog, but this one by Vince Lombardi, I could not resist –

"If you believe in yourself and have the courage, the determination, the dedication, the competitive drive, and if you are willing to sacrifice the little things in life and pay the price for the things that are worthwhile, it can be done."

P.S: you still here? Oh good. You have reached the end. Thank you for a patient read! Now that you have indicated that you have plenty of time to spare, you might as well read the first part of my story at SCMM 2012 which is mostly about pre-race day preparations and the city of Mumbai - here.

SCMM 2012 - A taste of Mumbai

2012-01-17T11:37:00.000-08:00

    My preparation for the Mecca of Indian long distance running – The Standard Chartered Mumbai Marathon, started three months ago. Interval training, Hill Runs, tempo runs, long runs, slow runs – I had done them all. I secretly hoped to finish the marathon (for the uninitiated it’s 42 long kms) in 3:30(3 hours and 30 mins) and improve on my previous best of 4:07 by around 37 mins! Ambitious to say the least... So as to not pile more pressure on myself, I parroted 3:45 as my supposed target to everybody who asked.

     A week before the marathon, I ran my usual weekend run with folks from the Hyderabad Runners club at the Nagole Forest Trail. The guy with who I was running that morning, Steve Kaplan, said something that ultimately proved immensely helpful for me during the Mumbai Marathon – “There will come a point in the race when you think you are down and out, that’s when you should commit”. Then for emphasis sake he reiterated, “You gotta commit man”. Sound advice that. Though an obstinate muttonhead at times, I, without exception, respect and listen to guys who complete marathons well within 3 hours.

    I had been invited to a pasta lunch by GQIndia Magazine on account of being an over-enthusiastic follower of Ashok Nath’s marathon training program they publish – here (Recommended for anybody who wants to run a marathon). My train to Mumbai was more than an hour late and I turned up at Indigo Deli dressed like a trainwreck to a party whose sponsor generally publishes magazines on how to dress fashionably in high society.

     I chatted with Ashok about my training and he asked me why my training schedule had no cross training (cycling, swimming, Yoga etc.). “Principle of specificity”, I explained like a professor explaining a finer point to student. Meaning if you want to get good at something, do it more often. You cannot become a good runner by cycling every day. His reply to this is something I’ll remember for a very long time. He said, “What if I can promise you a 3 hour marathon finish at the cost of muscular imbalance that would result in you limping for the rest of your life? Professional runners might agree to this since it is a question of livelihood for them, but I think as an amateur runner you should focus on developing an overall physique”. Trust me he was pretty convincing. I’m now ready to switch sides and do a bit of cross training.

At Pasta Party hosted by GQIndia at Colaba Deli

    Ashok also threw in a bit of wisdom for race day. He asked me to soak my legs in salted water for around half an hour and then apply Volini spray on my legs before I go to bed and then apply volini again the next morning before the race. Though skeptical, I tried this out and can confirm that it was definitely helpful. As an amateur marathoner, I am at a stage wherein I’d try anything to cut down a couple of minutes! But be aware that doing this numbs pain during the marathon. But once its effects wear off and if you have overreached yourself during the run, be rest assured that it will hurt. Pain is good at times because it gives you an indication of the limits of your body.

    I asked Ashok his thoughts on my plan to train for a triathlon after Mumbai Marathon. He asked me if I thought I had reached my goals in running and found out the level at which I plateau – i.e. the timing at which improving finish time becomes very difficult. I had not. Yet to decide whether I should continue focus only on running or begin training for a triathlon.

    I headed to the World Trade Center in Cuffe Link to pick up my bib and goodie bag which was mostly filled with medicine for lactating women and items whose expiry date can be counted in hours. I was disappointed to find that my assigned start point was staging Section – D, the last section allotted for Full Marathoners. Tried talking to the organizers to accommodate me in Section - A but I guess they had enough on their plates and asked me to live with it in a not-so-nice manner.

    At the WTC, I met Nitin Jain, my friend from Bangalore who had planned and booked rooms for our stay at Hotel Sealord near CST Railway Station. We took a taxi to our hotel and when our taxi driver pulled over; he gave us a scrutinizing smile and announced “Hmm. Hotel Dreamland” Our hotel seemed to be right beside “Hotel Dreamland” which by look on the face of the taxi driver I could clearly understand was a shady sort of place. “Hum toh yahan daudne aye hain”, I said answering his unasked question. We are here to run. He drove off with a smile still unconvinced while we headed into our hotel- Sealord that is.

    We soon headed out to dinner at Leopold Café where we ran into its local celebrity – Shantaram, a convict from Australia who penned his experiences living in the slums of Mumbai, raked in millions thereafter and had no more reason to live in a Mumbai slum. Ok I admit there’s a bit more to the story than that.

    We came back to our hotel and I headed out to find a medical shop to buy Volini Spray. Someone suggested a shortcut and I ended up right in the midst of a Mumbai Slum. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. The filth, squalor and poverty of the place was in sharp contrast to what I had seen a few mins ago at Colaba. This is the way I end up remembering Mumbai – a city which is just as much about the struggles and aspirations of the have-nots as it is about the extravaganza of the well off. Somehow I did not want to dwell on Mumbai's idiosyncrasies at that point in time; I had a marathon to run the next day.

...continued - here

The Last Battle

2012-01-03T12:55:00.000-08:00

The young prince was dying. He had been sure that in battle he had no equal in the known world, just as he had been sure of victory 18 days ago when he led his vast army into the battleground. How the tide had turned... He was now lying alone in mortal agony beside a forlorn lake with crows and vultures already fighting over him while his brothers and friends had laid down their lives in his defense.

The prince could not move his legs, his thighs had caved in and he could feel no sensation below his navel but pain. Unable to life his mace, he swung his hands weakly at a vulture that got too close. It will need to wait a bit longer, he thought dryly. His thoughts went to his last battle. He was up against a powerful warrior, the one who had killed his brothers. Anger and retribution powered the prince's tired body and soul. The enemy had never fought fair during battle and its warrior saw no reason to change now. The warrior's code was thrown to the winds; the prince was tricked, defeated and left to rot. The warrior who had bested him placed a leg on the prince's head, proclaimed some vow as complete and celebrated in macabre fashion by kicking and dancing on the prince's face. The code of honour that countless warriors lived and died upholding before this war was no longer sacrosanct; "laws of a mythical age" they would soon become.

Hours later, a few of the prince's warriors arrived at the scene. With just a glance they understood what had happened. The price was not yet ready to die. He knew the price of peace for a nation stricken with war was his own death. He was willing to pay it but he would not be denied vengeance for the humiliation meted out to him. He named one of his warriors as Supreme Commander of his now non-existent army and wished them luck one last time.

The final wait for death was unbearable, full of pain, suffering and regret. The prince spent the rest of the night holding death at bay, waiting for his warriors. His men returned just before the first ray, claiming to have burnt down the enemy camp and killed all its soldiers. Battle at night was unheard-of, the game had indeed changed for a world that taught its children that battles should start at sunrise and end at sundown. The prince gave a small smile, his time had come. The crimson sun rose in the distant horizon as Duryodhana, the last of the Kauravas, left the mortal realm.

Running in India - The Public Perception

2011-12-18T10:56:00.000-08:00

There are those who run and those who don’t. It’s been almost two years since I retrieved my dusty trainers from the back corner of my shoe rack, cleaned them and went for my first run. And this single act opened up a new world for me. And that was the day I became a runner. It did not matter that I hardly knew the technical details of the sports - What type of clothes to wear or shoes to buy, whether I should take walking breaks when running and how many kilometers I should run to avoid injury and lose weight. All that knowledge would come later but on that day, I just wanted to run. And that’s all it takes for any person to become a runner. No need to spend money on equipments or enroll in pricey coaching camps to master the sport.

Running has given me this opportunity to change and influence lives of a few people for the better. I have had people who I have never met message me asking how they should go about preparing for their first 10k or half marathon. Once during one of my long runs in Hyderabad, a company watchman decided that he had had enough of watching folks run and joined me for a mile or so running in his uniform and sturdy boots. Forget the health benefits of running for a moment, the joy you get when you run your first mile is something to behold.

Most things in social science can either be explained or blamed on perception. And how society perceives running is going to determine the future of the sport in India. Here are a few of my interactions with society as runner:

The incredulous looks that folks give when they see runners with water belts, GPS watches and fancy gadgets huffing and puffing when common sense dictates that they take a break. The first thing I learnt on taking up running is to ignore these looks and comments like “Why do you have to put themselves under such pain?!”. No one becomes a long distance runner without pushing past perceived limits of pain and endurance.
An overweight constable in Bangalore once warned me that my running shorts was too short and asked me to wear full length track suits during running. I pretended not to understand Kannada and kept running. Some people lack the imagination to think of a world beyond their own.
A few folks from the forest department in KBR Park terming runners as a nuisance to walkers and warning the Hyderabad Runners group that they would arrest all of us if we ran as a group. We raised our voices and aggression to match theirs and dared them to arrest us on our next run there. Of course they backed off and nothing happened on our next run.
The print media in India is currently enamoured with this concept of ignoring all news-worthy stories and focuses mainly on sensationalization of trivialities. And everything is fair game for reporters/journalists without depth and understanding – check articles like this and this. I do hope that such couch potatoes with half-truths and inadequate journalistic skills do not turn the general public away from the sport – but such hope is misplaced. People are influenced by what they read and unfortunately such shallow articles always hurt the sport. This is the most difficult and insidious of the issues that runners have to deal with. I have had relatives and friends read up some random article on the internet and advise me to take up a “normal” hobby like gardening or walking.
I have run quite a few marathons and mostly found lukewarm response from the general public to marathons and other running events. In an international marathon like say New York or London, people come in droves to support runners. Of course the sport is still in its infancy here. In comparison, Mumbai Marathon draws good crowds and public support but whether they come out to cheer runners or drool over Bipasha Basu is anybody’s guess. We are not there yet but someday the crowds will come for marathons. Until then we might have to make do with Bips...
For all the talk about India being a modern society, it is not easy for women to take up running in our country. Even when running in a group, women are subjected to lewd comments and unwanted advice. I recently attended a workshop by an ultra-marathoner/tri-athelete named Anu Vaidyanathan who began her presentation with a question somebody had asked her when training for a triathlon – “Why don’t you go get married?” Unless attitudes change, it is very difficult to ensure women take up long distance running either as hobby or a passion.

One of the first things I learnt in my corporate life - The world does not run on truth, it runs on perceptions. Likewise with the sport of running. And one of the things we can do for running is to be its ambassadors. Let's motivate a few folks to run. Let's tell them the story of how running changed our lives and get them to join the local running club. Let's convince them that if they run today, it does not mean a painful knee replacement surgery down the line. Above all, let's be the change that we want to see in the other person – Let's run...

Redemption – 50k Ultra-marathon at the Bangalore Ultra 2011

2011-11-30T01:29:00.000-08:00

Now why would anybody run an ultra-marathon (in which runners run beyond the regular marathon distance of 42.2k) and willingly put themselves under such pain? When asked this question, I end up providing a simplistic response like “it’s fun”. Mainly because it is not very easy to explain it to a “normal” person (generally people don’t run or those who say- I can walk for a whole day but don’t ask me to run). “It’s not like you’ll win the prize money or anything!! So why bother” they say signaling that any further conversation on my part would serve little purpose. So in this blog entry I will try to analyze the answers to the question – “Why run an ultra”.

Before you read any further, let me warn you that this is a long blog post. So here’s the gist of the entire post:

Bangalore Ultra 2010 - 37.5k category - DNF (Did Not Finish)

Bangalore Ultra 2011 - 50k category - 5 hrs 31 mins.

Overall score => Bharath- 1: Bangalore Ultra-1.

Let me now continue with the Charles Dickens’ version of the post:

The Bangalore Ultra in 2010 humbled and beat me into submission (read sordid story here). I realized that lack of training and preparation was what beat me and decided not to fall short on that account this time round.

On race day, I reached Hessarghatta around 30 mins to start time and headed to the room of my friends who were staying at the ONV hotel near the start point. First shocker of the day: My racer kit was missing. Meaning even if I run the race, my timings would not be recorded. For some reason I remember being calm in that situation as I knew that running chip or no running chip, nothing was going to stop me from hitting the red trail that day. Rajesh or Chief as we like to call him picked up another backup racer kit and we ran to “Runners For Life” Organizer stall with 5 mins to start and programmed the running chip for the 50k run. Ended up at the start line just before flag off with no warm-up to speak of.

Early morning start at Ultra

The 50k and 37.5k categories were flagged off together. I initially ran with the lead group of the 37.5k runners. After around a km or so I realized that they were running too fast and I had to slow down. One of the toughest things for me is to let people overtake me because I am generally competitive when it comes to running, but this time I told myself that it was important to stick to my overall plan of running 50k in 5 hours. The trail was the toughest I had ever run on. I always had to keep an eye on the ground for fear of hitting either roots or getting my foot stuck in some rock. Add in some loose gravel here and there and you have a perfect recipe for a fall. Fortunately I fell only once during the run and knew how to fall to avoid injury.

I stopped at the third aid station and noticed that it was well stocked. I helped myself to a decent treat once in a while at these aid stations – peanut butter and bread, potato chips, oranges, bananas etc. The organizers even had common salt at the aid stations. A few runners take salt tablets once every 15 kms in such ultra-marathons to ensure that the salt level in their body does not drop drastically. But you do not get them in India, ergo substitution with common salt at the aid stations. Since I did not know what to expect for my first 50k run, I ensured that I ate more than required and was well hydrated. Considering my intake during the run, it’s surprising I did not gain weight at the end of the race.

Completing first loop of 12.5k

At around the 8k mark, an American woman cut across the trail and overtook me. Up until that point, only Athreya and Honda San, two accomplished ultra-runners, from the 50k category were ahead of me. Determined not to lose my position, I kept up with her and finally overtook her after two kms. Lizzie turned out to a determined runner as well and I ended up maintaining a decent pace just because I knew she was on my heels.

Before I could complete my first loop I ran across the 12.5k runners. Though I hate to be labeled an elitist, I really do not understand where or how a 12.5k run fits into an ultra-marathon. Is it the money? Most probably... The event organizer - RFL is after all a commercial organization that needs to make money to survive. Is it about encouraging new runners? Nah. I am not sure I would have stuck with the sport if I had started my running career in an event like Bangalore Ultra. Runs like these are, deep down, are about a certain degree of masochism though most would not admit it. We were there to see our rigorous training come to fruition, celebrate our strength and challenge our bodies. In a treacherous trail like this, the newbies are ones most likely to hurt themselves, either due to lack of knowledge or training or both.

Third Loop done. One more to go...

I had slowed down at around the 32k mark. The American runner was long left behind. We had formed a partnership of sorts with one of us leading the way for a certain length of time. But she cramped up at around the 20k mark and asked me to move on. Met a lot of other runners that I interact with on a daily basis on the internet but hardly ever get a chance to meet.

At around the 44k mark, I noticed Bhaskar Sharma overtake me. Though I did not know that point in time, he had just moved into the third place in the 50k category. Being my first run beyond Full Marathon distance of 42k, I don’t think I was in a position to chase down a runner who had been running ultra-marathons years before I had even started running. I was totally spent. The sun had come out and I was reduced to taking walking breaks more often than planned.

Mission accomplished. From left - Steve, Venkat, Me and Ashish

With just a km to go for completion, another runner, Srini, overtook me. I really could not understand where he found the energy from but he started putting in some decent pace. After the race, I caught up with him and only half-jokingly warned against overtaking with such a short distance left as it leaves one heart-broken. He laughed it off. Seeing Srini put in good pace this late in the race, I realized that however good your training level is, the desire to succeed is what drives you in the final miles. You need to run the second part with your heart not your strength because of you have very little of that left anyway. I finished my first ultra-marathon distance of 50k in 5 hours and 31 mins. It was undoubtedly the toughest thing I had ever done in my life. I realized what this race meant for me – Redemption. And it tasted sweet despite all the pain I was in.

The Villager Road Tax

2011-10-05T23:03:00.000-07:00

Loki worked from sun-up to sun-down on the two acre land he had managed to wrestle from his brothers after their father’s death. He had been saving for two years to buy a new motorbike but the rain gods had proven fickle and middle-men who bought his crops stingy and thieving. He was stuck with the rusty bike his father-in-law had given him on the eve of his wedding. His reverie was interrupted by a huge black car coming to a screeching halt trying to avoid a dog on the street. A bulky guy got out of the driver’s seat, checked his car tires, found them satisfactory and drove off leaving the mutilated body of the dog in the middle of the national highway. Sometimes goats and chickens owned by the villagers were victims of the high speed roads. Loki never understood the arrogance of city folks- trampling livestock with their cars and bikes, not in the least bothered about how it affected the livelihood of poor villagers.

Loki considered the recently built national highway a curse. It cut across the middle of the village making even crossing the road a hazard. Once the villagers had got together and paid a private contractor to build a speed bump at both the ends of the village. That helped until a few officials from highway development authority leveled the road again warning the village council against building such barriers. The council denied everything, claimed innocence and feigned outrage at the accusation.

In the initial days after the road was built, villagers accepted any small compensation given to them by errant drivers for harming their livestock. But all this changed when Loki’s friend’s cow got mowed down by an SUV. Yogesh demanded an exorbitant amount and the entire village had gathered to argue with the driver and his wife. The villagers finally managed to extract more than their pound of flesh. Loki knew that the old cow had stopped producing milk a year ago. Yogesh could now buy a new jersey cow with what the driver ended up paying. The village council of course took a cut. The men had a good laugh about the entire incident that evening under the banyan tree. One of them called it the “road tax”.

From that day, Loki stopped scolding his children when they let the chickens and goats out near the highway. He did not have to wait for too long for what he had secretly been hoping for but would not admit even to his wife. A couple in a two wheeler had crashed into a post trying to avoid his goat. Somehow the goat had managed to limp away without much injury. Loki’s first thought was that the couple were grievously injured. He did not want to rush onto the highway to demand payment for his goat only to find the couple dying or in need of help.

Meanwhile a few cyclists had stopped to check on the fallen couple. Why men ride cycles this far instead of using motorbikes, he had no idea. Masochists most likely, he concluded. The cyclists had managed to help the couple with water. Loki saw that the rider, though bleeding was now standing and about to climb on his motorbike and drive away. Fat chance he thought.

Loki managed to stop the couple from speeding away to a hospital and straight away demanded payment for his injured goat. The couple looked speechless and the cyclist decided to speak up for them “Let them first go to the hospital man, the guy is bleeding”. All Loki knew was that if he let the couple go now, he would never see them again; “No, now”, he insisted. He claimed that his livelihood had been ruined due to the loss of his goat. As if on cue, a lot of folks from the village were suddenly with him taking the same line. A few other cyclists and folks from a car had stopped as well and took the side of the couple. The villagers accused the cyclists of rowdyism while the cyclists insisted on taking the couple to a hospital. The cyclists also claimed that the goat was not injured at all. Words were bandied back and forth.

Suddenly before Loki knew, the cyclist who had initially assisted the couple was coming at him angrily. Loki knew that there was no way the villagers would let a city-bred funnily clad cyclist beat him in their own place. One or two of his friends helped as they beat up the angry young man. Soon the rest of the villagers and cyclists managed to break up the brawl. Seeing bloodshed had the desired effect on the injured couple, they offered to pay up, just as Loki knew that they would. In parting, the beaten up cyclist calmly spoke up “One day I hope a car runs you over and there is nobody to help”. Loki pretended to not hear the cyclist. Neither did he care. His dream of a new motorbike had just got a little bit closer...

Almost there - The Mysore Half Marathon 2011

2011-10-04T06:28:00.000-07:00

The clock showed 6:55 a.m., 10 minutes more than the scheduled start time of the Mysore Half Marathon 2011. All the runners were waiting patiently at the start line - The imposing Mysore palace. Okay, the “patiently” part was a lie. We had all warmed up for a 6:45 start but apparently Chief Guest Javagal Srinath does not mess with his 8 hour sleep cycle. We greeted him with a loud ‘boo’ when he finally ambled along to the start line. I was targeting a finish of 1 hr. 40 mins, which meant running faster than 5 min/km for 21 kms. My friend Bala from Bangalore was targeting 1 hr. 45 mins but he gamely agreed to run with me for the entire distance.

The elites simply took off as soon as the start gun went off. Not sure if it was the pace the elites set or our own stupidity, Bala and I decided to give them chase. Big Mistake. We ran the first two kms in around 8 mins, way faster than what I had planned. Any distance runner worth his salt would tell you that you should not run somebody else’s race. And here I was disobeying the most basic tenet of long distance running. I settled into a nice breathing pattern, slowed down and let Bala compete with the elites!

My plan was to finish the first half of the race in 50 mins. But realized that I would get there about a minute or two early at our current pace. The route meandered into Kukkenahalli kere, the best running place in my beautiful hometown. We ran into the elites returning from the midway point. And the three in the lead were blazing. Their coach was on the sidelines and screaming at them to pick up pace. Hah! That is one coach I hope to avoid for the rest of my natural life.

At around the 8k mark, the effects of chasing the elites caught up with Bala and I ran alongside him for the new few kms. My lace came untied twice and I wasted sometime getting it right. My hands were unsteady and my fist and jaw tightly clenched – a clear sign that I was trying too hard. Stopped for water at the 12k mark aid station. With little humidity and cool breeze, I decided that I could manage with only one stop for water. And that certainly helps.


The Celebration Mysore Half Marathon

I checked out my GPS watch and found that I had to run the last 8k in 39 mins to finish within my target of 1 hr. 40 mins. My usual running pace at that point in time was 5 mins/kms meaning 40 mins for 8 km. I just had to run a couple of kms faster. Sounds easier when I put it on paper but the second half had a few up-hills and increased traffic which meant that saving that one minute was not going to be easy. My mom had promised to come to the route to cheer me, but I missed her as well due to my decision to go for glory.

The final push never came. Somebody on the road shouted “Boss you are 28^th… Run faster, so many people have gone ahead”. That brought a smile to my in spite of all the pain/pressure I had put myself in. Finished in 1 hr. 41 mins and Bala finished a couple of mins behind me. Missed my running season target by around 1 minute. Almost there but not there. Story of my running life really.

Soni Mathew finished in 1:09 mins and took 1^st place in men’s division and Kavita Raut in 1:20 took 1^st in the women’s division. As for me, I have time until the Auroville 2012 to reach my season target of 1 hr. 40 mins. With all the arrogance and confidence I can muster, I declare myself good enough for a 1:40 HM in the coming months. Only time will tell!

Why I started running?

2011-09-20T00:30:00.000-07:00

A few days ago I completed the Kaveri Trail Half Marathon in 1 hr 45 mins. During the run, I overtook quite a few slow, tired and struggling 10k runners with a smirk of superiority and disdain. I was running as per a plan and saw these slow runners on the narrow trail as an obstacle. After the race, it was time for introspection and I realized that there was no reason for me to look down upon these slower runners – after all I was once one of them. There is no better lesson in humility than to remember one’s own humble beginning. Let's rewind to around one and a half years and start from there.

It had been four years since moving to Bangalore. Four years since I joined a start-up and realized that programming was something I enjoyed. As the years went by, the time I spent at work increased and so did my waistline. I told myself I was too busy to spare time for exercise. Gradually, I realized what I was all set to become - one more fat slob working in IT and heading into middle age working away my life and health 12 hours a day for six days a week.

It was at this point in time that I saw an article in the newspaper regarding the Bangalore Sunfeast 10k run with Sachin Tendulkar exhorting the people of Bangalore to run. Somewhere it struck a chord. Never having run before, I immediately registered for the 6k majja run believing that a 10k was outside the realm of possibility. The very next day I put on my discarded running shoes and headed out to the park. I told myself that I could walk for a day if required since I had done a couple of treks the previous year. Yeah. A blatant lie if there ever was one! You got to lie to yourself sometimes and if it were a matter of mind such bravado might even have worked, but the body always speaks the truth. I could not run more than two rounds – all of 700 meters. It was simply too tiring.

I kept practicing just because I had already registered for the event and did not want to give up so easily. Come race-day, I ran those 6 kms stopping at every aid station to replenish myself. I struggled and my legs were sore but I managed to cross the finish line. I promised myself that the run was the first step of a long journey.

These days I run almost a half marathon a week. I have lost around 8 kgs since I started running, completed three full marathons, get withdrawal symptoms if I don’t run for more than a few days and am preparing for my first ultra marathon distance of 50k. But I will never forget what those SIX kilometers meant in the grand scheme of things.

The Hyderabad Marathon – The Replacement Pacer

2011-08-30T08:34:00.000-07:00

It was race day. I felt stupid with a floating helium balloon tied to my shirt. The number “4” was written on the balloon in big letters indicating that I was the pacer for folks wishing to complete the marathon in 4 hours. Somebody asked me if my previous best full marathon time we lesser than 3:30 and I truthfully replied that it was more like 5:30. I was supposed to be part coach, part friend, and part mentor at least for four hours apart from being an experienced long distance runner who sets a steady pace. Instead I was anxious and doubt constantly gnawed me.

Me at starting point with balloon

I had always wanted to complete the Hyderabad marathon in 4 hours and during Bib collection asked Steve (one of the organizers) for more information about the 4 hour pacer. The pacer had not turned up and we set about the arduous task for finding a replacement pacer. And they are as rare as a pig in flight. Anybody who can comfortably do a 4:00 hour marathon would rather push harder and aim for a better finish instead of herding newbies. Steve decided that we would have two pacers for the 4:00 hour bus with me running the first half (21 kms) and another fresh-legs runner starting from the midway point till the end.

Ever since I moved to Hyderabad from Bangalore a few months ago, I had started running with more discipline. I put in intense quality workouts instead of just adding more miles. I started running with the “Hyderabad Runners” group and was taken in by the camaraderie and support of its members. Not only did I run with them, I also attended shoe clinics and weekly fitness sessions with them. Somewhere along the line I realized that I could run much faster than what I thought I was capable of. And that’s when I decided that I should run a full marathon within 4 hours. And how I planned to do cut off more than 90 mins from my previous best marathon distance, I had no idea! I just knew I had to do it. I choose the Hal Higdon’s advanced 1 marathon training program and stuck with it. I lost weight and was fitter than I ever was. But I had no pretensions about being able to successfully lead a group of runners along with me at the finish line.

Majority of the runners in the 4 hour bus (group led by pacer) were Tamilians from Bangalore- Suresh Seshadri, Nari, and Vasu and we had a blast during the run. Gopal, Brajesh, Dr. Umesh and Neera Katwal also joined in. My job was to lead the group until the 21k mark in around 1:58 mins. A few kms into the run I could clearly see that Neera was more than capable of a 4 hr FM but was holding back only because it was her first Full Marathon. Around 12 kms into the run, Suresh came down with cramps but was still running if only to give me company for some more time. I took a few breaks here and there but maintained the speed as indicated in the pace band I wore on my wrist. The flyovers soon took their toll on Suresh and he slowed down. I realized I could not slow down for him and neither did he expect me to. We hit the 21k mark in exactly 1 hr 58 mins and Raju was waiting to take over my balloon. Neera and Brajesh were ahead of us and Nari, Vasu and Gopal were a few meters behind me. My job as pacer was done.

Now I was running for myself. Dr. Umesh kept running with me while the others sped ahead with Raju. When I hit the 32k mark, I noticed that I had to run the last 10k within 58 mins for my dream finish. I realized that I had underestimated how tough the route was. I kept chugging uphill after uphill and there was always one more round the corner. Dr. Umesh had fallen back and I was running alone now. Thankfully a few cyclists from the Hyderabad Cycling Club and my friend Madhu from Hyderabad University paced me for a few mins. When I hit the 38k mark, I still had to cover 4 kms in 20 mins. That’s when I realized that my dream of finishing within 4 hours would remain that – a dream. And that’s right about the time when the body does not want to go forward and your spirit is already crushed. I started walking in agony and pain for the first time in the race.

Picture with Elaine at end point. The photographer jumped the trigger before we jumped!

After a km of run/walk, somebody from behind shouted – “Don’t walk. Do a slow jog instead. It keeps the blood flowing” and I did as instructed. A few hundred meters into the run, I understood that there was nothing to feel let down about. All expectations were of my own choosing and I could still be proud of finishing a few minutes outside of the 4 hour mark. Somehow I found the energy to sprint the last hundred meters and overtake that gentleman who had egged me on. Time on my garmin watch showed 4 hr 7 mins and 12 secs, exactly 81 minutes faster than my previous best. The marathon distance is indeed a microcosm of life – full of little joys and disappointments. When you finish one, you realize the person at the end line though temporarily down on energy is a stronger person than the one at the start line a few hours ago.

Badami, Aihole and Pattadakal – A Journey through history- Part 2

2011-04-14T20:06:00.000-07:00

My friends and I had travelled to North Karnataka seeking the cradle of temple architecture of India. Here's part two of my blog on our journey through the ages.

Badami:

Badami was the second capital of the Chalukyas and was founded by Pulikesi-I in 540 AD. Badami is called so because of the colour of rocks is the same as the nut Badami (or Almond). The main temples have been hewn out of sand stone on the precipice of a hill. Cave style is the most difficult form of temple building because there is only one opportunity to get the sculptures right. No second chance to replace a broken statue with another one built elsewhere.


Anantasana - Vishnu on a nagashesha	Shiva Thandava

There are four cave temples, three Hindu and one Jain. The first cave is the oldest and has a stunning sculpture of Shiva with 18 arms in a dancing posture- the apocalyptic Shiva Thandava. The Ardhanarishwara (half-Shiva, half-Parvathi) and the Harihara (half-Vishnu, half-Shiva) are the other main sculptures in cave 1. Caves 2 and 3 are dedicated entirely to Vishnu. Cave 2 has a sculpture of Vishnu sitting on a lotus- The Anantasana, the image that is ubiquitous in every reference to Badami. Cave 4 has images of Digambara Jains, Tirthankaras and Mahavira and goes some way in showing the secular nature of the Chalukyan rulers.

Front view of the Badami caves

These caves also served as shelter houses at lean times and you can also see carvings of board games like Pallanguli(Many-Holes) and HuliMane(Lion House) indicating the presence of young children. There are no palaces in Badami (unlike Hampi) to show that the rulers lived in splendour and research shows that the rulers resided in wooden houses while building these majestic caves temples for the Gods to reside in.

Pattadakal:

Pattadakal is situated on the banks of the Uttara Vahini River and is supposed to be the pinnacle of Chalukyan architecture. It was established in the later stages around 7-8^th century AD. Pattadakal literally means rock of coronation in Kannada. It is also called as Shilapura or the place of sculptures. All the temples here are Shiva temples (unlike Badami and Aihole) and all of them face the East. There is also a Jain temple built later by the Rashtrakuta rulers.

Mallikarjuna (Dravidian) and the Kasi Visvesvara(Aryan)

View of all temples in Pattadakal

Pattadakal is a UNESCO world heritage site and has ten major temples, a co-existence of Dravidian, Aryan and hybrid style of temple building. The textured carvings on the pillars are full of stories of Ramayana, Mahabharata and the DashaAvatars of Vishnu. We could also find a rich trove of stories from Panchatantra carved on the pillars. In 1565 AD, the Bahamani Sultan ransacked the place, but let the temple structures remain intact. I imagine that perhaps the conqueror recognized that such a fusion of art, architecture and skill is rare and deserves its place in history.

P.S: The link to my Picasa web album with pictures from the trip: http://goo.gl/photos/VMBkmg9KcQ

Badami, Aihole and Pattadakal – A Journey through history- Part 1

2011-04-14T09:11:00.000-07:00

Be it a metro dotted with skyscrapers and malls or a dusty little village in the hinterland, you can be sure that you are never too far away from a temple in India. Some of these majestic structures have withstood the ravages of time for centuries and still stand tall and proud. Have you ever wondered when and where our ancestors discovered, honed and perfected their skills in art and architecture thereby permitting us to gaze proudly at these temples today? To answer these questions and also have some fun along the way, I set out to North Karnataka with a few of my friends hoping to travel through the ages into the very beginning of known Indian History.

Badami, Aihole and Pattadakal form the historical trio of places where the art of building temples and rock carvings flourished right from 5^th century AD. Badami is located around 500 kms from Bangalore and is accessible by train and bus. Aihole is around 40 kms from Badami and Pattadakal is midway between them.


Durg Temple

Aihole:

Aihole was the first capital of the Chalukyas and was called Aryapura in its earlier days. It was supposed to have been renamed Aihole after a woman found Parashurama, the Kshatriya(warrior clan) killer, washing his bloody axe in the lake and exclaiming “Ayyo-Hole”(the lake)!! Doubtless we will never know why and when Aryapura became Aihole since in our nation mythology is sometimes indistinguishable from history.

Aihole is supposed to the “Cradle of Indian Architecture” and has around 125 temples and a few caves. At the entrance of the complex is the horse-shoe shaped durg temple. This temple is supposedly the inspiration for the famous Konark temple in Orissa. Aihole has temples for both the main Hindu deities- Vishu, the protector and Shiva, the destroyer. Even though the Chalukyans worshipped Vishnu, prominence was given to Shiva as well indicating presence of both Shaivism(Worship of Shiva) and Vaishnavism(Worship of Vishnu) school of thought.


TriBangi Shiva	HariHara - Vishnu/Shiva

The Tribanghi Shiva, Vijaya Narasimha, Mahishasure Mardhini and Harihara(Half-Vishnu Half-Shiva) are some of the notable sculptures. The Ladkhan temple in the structures dates back to the 5^th century. Interestingly the sculptors were given the freedom to paint a true picture of those times. One sculpture shows an elephant crushing a condemned man to death. Another set of carvings show a couple cozying up before marriage and fighting it out after. Clearly the sculptor must have drunk deeply from the cup of life!

The Traffic Signal

2011-04-01T00:38:00.000-07:00

The traffic signal ahead turns red and I slowly ease my car to a halt, squeezing it in the gap between two other cars. My car window is generally up, mostly to avoid the dust and smoke in the roads of Bangalore. It also helps avoid bothersome hawkers, groping eunuchs and old women with crying babies. But tonight it is down and before I know it, there is a kid beside my car, with a bamboo basket full of what can only be described as plastic junk. He says ‘Anna, 10 rupees only. Will you please buy one?’

My first instinct is to pull up my car window. After years of driving on Bangalore’s roads, I had pretty much become inured to such sights and had taught myself to ignore such things. I generally persuade myself with the usual arguments – ‘Of course the crying baby clinging to her neck is rented’, ‘I don’t want to encourage begging’, ‘This crossing is so busy, this woman makes enough money to manage a savings account in the bank across the street’ etc. But something about the little kid peering expectantly at me stops my hand.

The boy seems to be around 5-6 years old and the first thing I notice is his grotesque lips split till his chin leaving his disfigured for life. There is a misty glaze in his eyes that shouts out that he does not belong to streets. Perhaps he wants to go home. I wish that he has one and somebody to take care of him. But I know there is nobody since the kid would not be hawking toys in the streets at night if somebody really cared about him.

In spite of my refusal, he continues to plead. ‘Please anna, it’s only 10 rupees’. I think that maybe he has a ‘pimp’ who would beat later him until he handed over all the day’s earnings or else maybe he has not yet sold his quota of toys for the day, which could explain what he was doing in the street at 9 in the night. But one thing I know for sure. The kid led a tough life; one that folks like me in air conditioned cars cannot understand or seldom bother to. I empty all the change in my wallet into his outstretched hands and even refuse the plastic toy that he hands me in return.

I know that the kid will probably not get to keep the money. All I could hope to do is give him ‘hope’. I look into his eyes and give him a gentle and reassuring smile as if to say ‘Everything will be fine kiddo’. His response to the smile shatters what little hope I harbor for the little boy. There is none. Perhaps both of us know that my smile serves no purpose and does little to alter his predicament. As if on cue, the traffic signal turns green. He seems ready to burst into tears at any moment. But instead just turns his head away from me and hurries along to the pavement, anxiously waiting for the signal to turn red again.

So who’s got your back?

2011-02-13T07:54:00.000-08:00

In most gangster/cop movies, you have probably heard the line “I’ve got your back”. These are words everybody likes to hear, the feeling of comfort that there is somebody out there who can come through when it really matters. Before I get round to answering that, let me present my take on running 42.195 kms.

The moment I registered for my first full marathon at Auroville, my initial thought was “Now why did I do that!” If I had learnt anything from my previous unfortunate experience at running 37.5k at the ultra marathon (a disaster well-documented in previous blog entry!), it was that I was far from ready for a full marathon. Sometime later I shot off a letter to the Auroville organizers pleading extenuating circumstances and requesting them for a change of category to Half Marathon. “No way” was the unequivocal reply. So I was stuck with a full marathon marathon I really was not sure about doing.

Some how convinced myself to give it a try and run for the joy of running. The night before the marathon in Auroville, a ritualistic initiation into marathon running awaited me. It starts with eating like you haven’t eaten for days and ends with eating some more, all to avoid hitting the dreaded wall. With unlimited pasta and lasagna on offer, I gleefully indulged in the world class fare. The dinner was all about meeting and catching up other masochistic people from all around nation willing to risk limb and knee again and again to earn the sobriquet of “Marathoner”.

My only strategy on race day was run slowly to avoid injury and stick like gum to my running partner. He was running his second marathon and planning to complete in 5 hours; just the ideal pace setter I was looking for! The race started at 5 am in pitch black darkness and we stumbled along until our eyes adjusted to the darkness, hardly aided by the inadequate torch provided by the organizers. This first half of the marathon was most enjoyable and we completed it in around 2:30 hrs, all as per the Plan.

A few kms later, my friend started feeling some pain in his knee and slowed down. I doubled up as his physio, gently stretching his leg muscles with the hope I don’t leave him with a permanent injury due to my inept ministrations. Soon he said he was feeling comfortable and I led both of us at a much reduced pace from then on.

The maximum distance I had done in training was 30k in the “Strides of Hope” event and once we crossed that, I had to fall back on determination and grit to run the rest of the race. At around the 32/33k mark, a long trail of loose sand awaited us. Had not struggled in that stretch during the first loop, but covering that under the sun pretty much blew the winds out of me. We ended up slowing down further.

Until the 35k mark, we hadn’t walked even once, just slowing down once a while when we got tired. This had helped us overtake a few faster runners doing a run-walk-run routine. Ever km from then on was progressively tougher and I was ready to start walking. My friend took the lead and goaded me to get back into running stride. I grudgingly obliged and thankfully we never looked back from there. He encouraged me to keep up with him, just like I had done in the first half of the marathon. We somehow found the strength to sprint the last 200 meters of the marathon. Time taken: 5:30:00. Yeah, I can definitely live with that timing for my first marathon. Couch potato geek to marathoner in 9 months!

At the toughest times, my friend and I motivated, cajoled and pushed each other to complete this marathon. Thank you Nitin Kumar Jain, fellow runner and marathoner, you truly are a fabulous person to run with. So getting back to the first question- “Who’s got your back?”

An Ode to Egypt

2011-01-28T08:12:00.000-08:00

Broken from the shackles of fear,
Behold wondrous Egypt's righteous ire;
Revolution is brewing,
Hope Hosni Mubarak is leaving.

Bandaje Trek

2011-01-15T10:24:00.000-08:00

Every since I started trekking there are few places I wanted to trek in more than Bandaje( Also called/spelt Bandeja, Bandajje etc). And when finally I got a chance to there, there was no backing down in spite of hearing from folks that this is a tough one. When one of my colleagues pointed his hand towards the evening star and said “The uphill climb is like this”, I convinced myself that he was exaggerating. My trek buddies Lenin and Yogesh were game for this as they would be for any crazy trek I had in mind. I also managed to rope in my roommate Subbu promising him an initiation into the world of trekking in this two day sojourn.

The Bandeja Falls

Bandaje is a tiny village around 350 kms from Bangalore and home to plenty of coffee, tea and rubber plantations. We caught a bus to Dharmasala on Friday night and reached there by 6 am next morning. Completed the morning ablutions near the rest rooms beside the temple lake and headed to Bandaje via Ujjire in a jeep( Consider yourself conned if you paid more than 250 bucks!). The trek begins at the home of Narayana Gowda, a pot bellied politician who arranges guides and helps out trekkers with food/water etc. Since only two guides turned up that day and 4-5 groups turned showed up, we had to stay put for an hour or so before starting off.

The first day’s trek is amongst the toughest climbs I have ever done. I felt guilty at having dragged Subbu into this. Even-though I had cajoled him to start running a week or so before the trek ostensibly to toughen up, there was no way I could prep him for this tough an ascent. I stayed with Subbu encouraging him at times but mostly pushed him harder. . Yogesh and Lenin, on the other hand, were in their elements and were leading the trek right from the beginning till Bandaje falls. When you are fit and trekking with others of similar physique, you attitude changes – you put on a facade of a body that never tires and ensure that you are never the one to suggest rest thinking others would consider you the weak link. Bringing up the rear-guard gave me extra time for experimenting and having fun with my SLR camera.

Sunset at the peak

After around 3-4 kms of climbing steep hills, we came across the grasslands. It was already afternoon when we reached there and the sun beat down on us without mercy. I realized that these grasslands would be infested with leeches during rainy season and probably just as tough to cross. This was the toughest part of our trek and I avoided looking Subbu into the eye for some time! A few kms into the grasslands, we glimpsed the Bandaje falls from a distance. It seemed to be very near but I always under-estimate distances from far away and it turned out to a good 2 kms away.

Ballalarayana Durga Fort

We reached the top of the Bandaje falls by around 4.30 p.m and were totally exhausted. Just the right time for a dip in the cold waters. A few folks informed me that a k.m. or two upstream there is a place that bisons and elephants come to quench their thirst. But we were too tired to check it out that day. Took some snaps of the sun going down and ate bread/jam for dinner constantly glancing jealously at the other groups that were cooking maggi for dinner. Then we set up the tent that we had hired at BMC. Unfortunately it had a few holes in it and I suggest you inspect your tents properly before hiring from them. The sky seemed to hold more stars than I had ever seen and we had a good night’s sleep.

Lenin and Yogesh at a 100 year old temple on the way to Sunkasale

Both Lenin and I woke up early for different reasons. Him to catch sight of wild animals and I for the sunrise. The second day’s trek is relatively easy and we headed to the ancient hoyasala fort, Ballalarayana Durga. We had lunch in the dilapated fort, ruins that remind trekkers like me about the once mighty hoyasala empire.

Some nice perspective shots on the way to Sunkasale

We also met Mr. Chandrasekar from the Youth Hostel Association, an enthusiastic trekking group from Bangalore. Best thing I liked about them was that they also cleaned up all plastic and non-degradable stuff on the way, ending up with three or four ruck-sacks of waste stuff. In our group, Lenin took on a similar responsibility. Join this group at yhai_blr_weekends@yahoogroups.com. Totally worth it. The remainder of the trek was pleasant and when we ended up at Sunkasale, we were just in right frame of mind for eating bhajjis and vadas there. You can go to Gottigere to get back to Bangalore. But we ended up spending an additional two hours travelling to Horanadu as KSRTC tickets were only available from there. Had dinner at the famous Annapoorneshwari temple and got into the bus waiting to take us back to Bangalore. Mission Accomplished.

Somewhere on the way up.

P.S: Subbu has now completely recovered from the after effects of his first trek and is eagerly looking forward to the next one...(I hope!)

Who is the Alien now? Nasa finds new life form.

2010-12-02T10:29:00.000-08:00

I just read this article in Gizmodo about NASA finding a new life form here. Let me just summarize it for you: All living beings share the same building blocks or DNA, made up of six components: carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen, phosphorus and sulfur. NASA just found a new form of bacteria whose basic building block is something we have never seen before – Arsenic! Essentially NASA has discovered an alien life form. And boy does this change things... If I am this excited about this discovery, some biologist somewhere, I am sure, is running around the streets naked screaming “Eureka, Eureka”!

To put in perspective this giant leap for mankind, think of this as the most important biological discovery since Darwin showed us that we are all descendant from apes and ultimately from bacteria. And this just categorically answered a question man has been asking for a long time – “Are we alone in this Universe?” We are definitely not alone.

New alien species found!

Religious institutions world over, I am sure, will use this discovery to point to a cosmic creator, “See, I told you. This discovery just proves how untenable the theory of evolution is”. To a certain extent, they are right. The entire basis of evolution is based on the fact that we all evolved from a single life form. Now that there is a different strain of bacteria, does this invalidate or change certain core assumptions made in evolution? I am not a scientist capable of answering these questions but am confident the answers will come soon from people far smarter than I.

Until now scientists are not sure if life originated on earth or reached here through an asteroid from a distant galaxy. So if our ancestors (if we can call bacteria that!) took the first bus available to this planet, where did this alien species come from? Did they come earlier than us from another planet and failed to evolve because of biological constraints? Or does mother earth actually belong to this arsenic based species until a wave of invaders (us in this case) wiped them out. Whatever it is, biology will never be the same again.

“The species that sees the sun die out billions of years later will be as different from us as we are from bacteria” ~ Richard Dawkins. Chew on that.

Vignettes from the Hessarghatta Ultra Marathon

2010-11-17T22:37:00.001-08:00

The toughest marathon in this part of the world was held in Hessarghatta, Bangalore on November 14. Forget the 100k and 50k categories that give this marathon the sobriquet of "Ultra", I had registered in the 37.5k category. My preparation for the marathon was staggered and ranged from a few half marathons to a trek in scenic Kumara Parvatha mountains. Not much but with a weekly mileage of 40-45k I believed I had done enough to get through 37.5k on race day. I reached the starting point just in time for the race and ended up in the front row during flag off. This turned out to be an advantage since at many places the trail gets very narrow allowing only one person to get through and a decent start was vital. The trail was 6.25k in and out meaning every loop was 12.5k. I maintained a steady pace and felt some discomfort in my right knee when I stopped for water at the 6.25k mark. My right knee was troubling me for sometime due to a fall during the previous week's trek but I decided to ignore it and push ahead at the same pace.

A marathon is a gala affair and the most important thing that a runner must do is enjoy the race. And running in a forest trail with the sun just rising in the horizon is pretty much ideal settings to have fun. Add to this the amazing resilience and determination of folks running 100k and 75k for inspiration, there was nothing more I could ask for. Around the 10k mark I struck a conversation with Pankaj Sir who is a regular fixture in RFL long runs. When we ran into the 25k runners starting off, Pankaj stopped by and posed for photos with a group of friends! Unbelievable I thought. Ran ahead to press my advantage, but he soon caught up with me and said "We should always have some fun in life. Right?" and sped ahead. I realized that running is not all about race timings. It’s more about having fun while you are at it.

Start of race 37.5k race

Soon my first loop of 12.5k was done; two more to go. And every time I stopped at the refreshment stall, starting to run again was becoming harder due to my knee. I decided not to stop since getting into my running stride was the only thing that numbed the pain. Very Soon I understood that this I wasn’t going to be able to complete this race. I was pushing hard through sheer grit and determination and the encouragement from fellow runners. Was afraid to stop at the refreshment stall and just grabbed some fruits and ate them while running. I completed 25k in around 2:38 mins and decided to stop in order to avoid aggravating my injury.

I settled in the Medical desk to apply ice-packs and watch the other runners strive, struggle and strive harder due to the blazing sun. You could say I had front row seats. I was there watching Ashok Nath win the 37.5k in blazing sub 3 hour timing demolishing the previous year’s first by more than an hour, Nigel make his way to the starting point with long strides like a football player about to take a penalty kick and Cath and the other 100k runners run loop after loop with grim determination. You need to strive to be an athlete and not just a runner and these folks simply epitomized that ideal.
And it wasn’t just about the winners. It was about ordinary folks making an effort at the extra-ordinary and stories that shall remain for a long time. After the first few 37.5ers finished, the folks from the medical desk brought in a person who seemed to have collapsed just a few steps before the finishing point. Thomas had run 37.45 kms with gusto and seemed all set for a glorious finish in the category when exhaustion overtook him meters before the finish line. He told me that he was gutted at falling short at the finishing point. The ultra is a cruel race that way. But they seem to have carried him over the finish line and the timing chip registered his timing as 4^th in the category. Congrats Thomas. Nobody deserved this finish more than you.


Me running the forest trail

Sometime later another person who seemed to have succumbed to tough course walked into the med desk. There was blood all over her arms and legs but a serene elation in her face that could mean only one thing- She had completed her 50k despite the injury. When I spoke to Vidyatha later to ask her how she managed to continue and she said “The pain is all in the mind”. Now I felt guilty at not having shown the determination to finish the race. Many such stories of determination and resolve came through and I was glad to have been there and soaked it in.

I would like to thank all runners from around the nation and the few outside it for participating and enriching this amazing test of endurance and stamina. Also much thanks to RFL, your organizational skills are truly sublime.

Soon all my friends Nitin, Suraj and Vinod completed their race taking a lot longer than what they had anticipated and we headed for lunch. Later limped back to the parking area, just like most other folks and I slept for the rest of the day once reached home. So will I be back next year? You bet. I have unfinished business…

Solitary trek up Kumara Parvatha - Day 2

2010-11-14T08:56:00.000-08:00

I had trekked up the famous Kumara Parvatha Mountains all alone but had to stay put at Girigadde Bhatt’s house after the cyclone raged on without any sign of easing since noon. Woke up early the next morning to catch the sunrise; the sun stayed behind the clouds and never obliged. Got back for a hot water bath and a little rice upma, both managed to lift my spirits and resolve more than I could imagine. The group from Magadi on the other hand ate like there was no tomorrow. So when they backed out at the forest department checkpost saying that the entrance fees of 115 rupees was too much, I had my suspicions about why they really did it! I was disappointed to see them leave, the companionship I was hoping for vanished in thin air, literally, as I moved further into the mountains.

Just another morning in Kumara Parvatha

I smeared my shoes and socks with salt in good measure to avoid leeches. Just took the salt meant for food, since folks around these places refuse to part with salt for some strange reason I cannot think of. The rocks were slippery due to the previous day’s rain and progress was slow and measured. The only wild animals I saw were red-coloured crabs, wild fowls and snakes that slithered away as soon as they sensed my approach. After an hour’s trek from the police check-post, I reached the place called “Mantap”, a stone-hedge like structure just below the peak. If I had had tents and company, this would have been the ideal place for a campfire and night-stay.

At around 12 noon, I reached the peak. Mission accomplished! Or at least the trekking up part of it. A dangerous downhill trek to Bidahalli APC was all that remained between me, glory and a lot of bragging rights, only I had forgotten the route to get there. A layer of mist had blanketed the peak reducing visibility to around 10 meters and hampered my search more. Soon it was time to decide whether I would spend more time probing for the trail or return to the Bhatt household where I am sure a sumptuous meal would await me. Dark clouds threatened to open up the skies and my survival instincts that I had suppressed until now woke up from slumber urging me to head back the way I came. Fortunately I found the way to Bidahalli before it could do any damage!

Red crab! First for me

The last bus leaving Bidahalli to Somwarpet was at 4 p.m. and I had only 3 and a half hour to tackle 7 kms of treacherous trail and 4 kms of road travel. Sounded like fun. The trail from Kumara Parvatha to Bidahalli is through a dense evergreen forest. I had great difficulty getting down two steeply inclined slopes of around 75 meters due to the rains and the loose gravel and slippery rocks lying around. At a certain location, I had to go across a slimy three meter slope from the side. No way! I thought. I went back for a sturdy stick, used that and a few low hanging branches to jump to the other side.

My euphoria at having crossed the tight spot with the finesse of Tarzen made me overconfident and I slipped the very next step I took. Butt down on a patch of grass. Lucky you would think to fall on grass, only it was home to particularly large specimens of leeches than those I had encountered all day. Every time I fell, I dusted off the leeches, told myself that I did not want to incapacitate myself at this desolate place with no rescue squad waiting in the wings and carried on. So when you do check out the photos of this trip, keep in mind that a lot of real blood and sweat went into getting them to you...


Try getting down this one...

With every passing mile, my joy at having conquered the Kumara Parvatha alone grew and so did my concern that I would miss the last available bus from the tiny village of Bidahalli. I quickened my pace, but there is only so fast you can go in a jungle without injuring yourself. Around a km before check-post on this side of the mountain, I met a bunch of teenagers going into the forest. No water bottles, no gunny bags, just gung ho attitudes. I asked one of them where they were heading and he smugly replied “The Peak, of-course”. “Best of luck”, I said and added “you might die you know”. The smile withered to be replaced with concern while I advised him to avoid the peak and head to the Girigaddhe household through a bypass trail 4 kms from the start. You know you have reached adulthood once you can clearly see that all teenagers are douche-bags. The teens went off into oblivion while I emerged triumphant from it.

The evergreen forests en-route Bidahalli

After reaching the forest check-post, the forest trail ended, but my trial had just begun. I had to cover the next 4 kms in around 30-35 minutes. I don’t know where I energy and resolve came from, but I increased my pace and also started running whenever I encountered an inclined road. And finally managed to catch the bus, full filmi style. There was only one person who conquered the Kumara Parvatha this Diwali, ME. I felt and still feel such a great sense of pride and awe that I think I am going to start referring to myself in third person from now on. “Your highness will now respond to your comments...”

Solitary trek up Kumara Parvatha - Day 1

2010-11-09T12:13:00.000-08:00

I just wanted an adventure and to take some photographs. And a two-day trek in Kumara Parvatha, the 1712m high mountain range south of the Vindhyas seemed just like the right place. After the usual suspects (read friends) dropped out with lame reasons, I found that I was the only willing to make the trip. A tinge of fear at traveling alone and the scent of an exploit I could call mine alone were enough to nudge me into deciding to go it alone.

If you are expecting encounters on the lines of Discovery channel host Austin Stevens kissing the forehead of a King Cobra in this blog, time to move on buddy. What you will find here is the story of a guy looking for adventure, but the lonely trek up the forbidding mountain shows him that in nature’s scheme of things, he is very puny.

Kukke Subramanya Temple

I reached Kukke Subramanya, the temple town located around 280 kms from Bangalore at around 6 a.m. after an 8 hour journey by bus. Freshened up and first visited the temple to deposit money given by friends and family. To think that the mighty Snake God would stop sending his minions to your home for a paltry sum of money is debatable, but a postman just has to do his job. I later visited the mantap where the Naga dosha yagna is performed to bless childless couples with children and cure skin ailments. Visiting any temple in the wee hours is a serene experience and visiting Kukke Subramanya when the early morning fog has just lifted is a sight to behold. Makes you wish you were a theist, almost.

I then started the trek after breakfast at around 8 a.m. The destination for the day was the house of Girigaddhe Bhatt located around 7 kms from the temple complex. Not even a km or two into the trek, I decided to stop to catch my breath and immediately became aware of the sounds of nature- the cadence of the drizzle, the chirping of crickets and this distant gushing of water. Add to this the smell of fresh sand after rains and it will explain the reason why I trek...

Pushpa giri's beauty unfolds

The joy I mentioned above evaporated once I laid my eyes on fresh elephant tracks and dung around a km or so later. The most dangerous animals I could face in Kumara Parvatha are solitary male elephants or bisons. This is the point in time where I started asking myself some uncomfortable questions I had avoided – “What were you thinking? What are you doing in this forest all alone? You are a computer engineer, not John Rambo...” Add with this the constant chore of removing blood sucking leeches from my legs and the questions begun playing in my mind with increasing frequency. Not sure how many elephants were there, but figured out that they were heading away from the trail. Took some pictures and hurriedly put some distance between self and the herd.


My experiments with the SLR. Depth of focus especially

After walking for around 3 hours, I reached the household of Girigaddhe Bhatt, whose small farm house is an oasis for many-a-weary trekkers. The self sustained Bhatt household is sandwiched in the midst of the climb from Kukke to the Kumara Parvatha peak and is 7kms away from any pesky neighbour dropping in for tea at odd hours. Girigaddhe Bhatt, the 53 year old proprietor spends time grazing cows, growing betel nut that generally turns bad due to the heavy rains and feeding the multitude of tired people who end up at his doorstep without warnings. The mildly pot bellied man is at peace with himself and curious about what everyone else does for a living. He calls himself a “Kaadu manushiya”(a man from the wilds) but is more sophisticated in thought and speech than loads of city folks I know!

One the few pictures with me in it

Lunch prepared was simple with sambar, rice, chutney and curd. After a short siesta, one of my friends who knew I was on this perilous journey alone called up Girirgaddhe Bhatt to inquire if I had reached his home safely. Just a short call to see if I was still alive and kicking. Yeah partner; everything’s fine. I never pay much heed to weather reports when I plan for treks/trips since I think they are just reasons not to travel, but this time the cyclone decided to make its presence felt that very afternoon. Any plans of landscape photography I had were totally put to rest. Instead had to satisfy myself with the company of the loud mouthed but amicable folk from Magadi who had just arrived before the sky opened up.


House and farm of Girigaddhe Bhatt

The day ended with heavy showers late into the night while I was battling my own demons in my mind – Will I be able to cover the toughest part of the trek alone or should I tag along with the Magadi folk? The trail is dangerous enough and with such heavy rains will I be able to climb/descend any of the slippery hills that I knew are waiting en-route to the peak. Sometimes all it takes to slay your demons is to go to sleep and look at the world afresh the next morning, which is exactly what I decided to do.

To be continued...

Time to meet again. Bangalore to Alleppey trip.

2010-10-30T22:27:00.000-07:00

When Anand sent another group mail with the heading “Time to meet again”, I was not sure if it would happen. After all, it had been five years out of college and lot of my classmates were either getting married or slogging in the US trying to buy that dream 3 BHK apartment in their hometown. After a week of chit-chat 10 guys were game for a trip to Alleppey, a picturesque town of canals, backwaters and beaches or as some folks like to call it “The Venice of the East”. Just like providence giving from one hand and taking away with another, my leave got rejected after everything had been finalized. Wished the guys luck and got back to mundane stuff like making a living writing code.

Partly in disappointment and partly to make up for this trip I was scheduled to miss, I applied for a week’s holiday during Diwali. With no clear plan in mind, I was hoping I would come up with a killer trip plan by then. Two days before my friends were about to depart, my manager broached the subject of my week long leave. “One week’s leave would be a bit difficult. We have so many things pending before the delivery next week”. Yeah standard IT dialogues. Without batting an eyelid, I bartered the week-long vacation for the one day leave that I really needed. The Alleppey trip was on for me as well.

Early morning fishing at Alleppey

Day 1:

After some frantic last minute ticket booking and hustle-bustle, I got on to the bus to Alleppey at 6 p.m. Friday night and a gruelling 12 hours later, reached the place which is around 600 kms from Bangalore. The skies looked like they were ready to send a shower at the first sign of provocation. Settled into a cosy hotel and ordered Idiappam with vegetable curry for breakfast. By the time I was done, the other guys from Bangalore had reached the railway station and we chilled out at the beach near the station waiting for the Chennai folks to arrive. With three SLR cameras including mine, we were spoilt for choice and set about taking pictures with the serene Arabian Sea in the background.

The majestic house boats of Alleppey

Ram who was entrusted with organizing this trip had booked a 3-bedroom house boat. These large boats rule the backwaters of Kerala and are the lifeline of a town dependent mainly on tourism. As we gazed at these majestic boats, I realized why man left the comforts and land set out to conquer the ocean – Adventure. Our captain was a well built guy with a pot belly that I am sure was acquired through years of consumption of toddy. With the little Malayalam that I knew, I convinced him to let us drive the boat for a short while during a straight stretch of water. It was surreal manning that large boat with the breeze on your face and the sight of the sun disappearing in the horizon.


Me with a house boat in the background

The in-house cook prepared a great lunch. The other guys tore into the fish with gusto while I and two other vegans savoured the vegetarian dishes. There were a few guys in small rowboats selling prawns and fish native to these backwaters. Our captain later led us to his favourite toddy shop. I had no desire to drink that stinky, sloppy coconut milk and decided to skip. This turned out to be a good decision in retrospect, considering the faces of the guys who tried! We ended the day watching movies, chatting and taking a lot of pictures of other boats passing us.

Sunrise at Alleppey

Day 2:

Come next morning, it was time for a traditional ayurvedic kerala massage. I was stripped naked, every pore of my being violated and they had the nerve to charge me for it. Actually the guy doing the massage didn’t seem to have an idea about the concept of nerve centres in the body or loosening up the knots in my body. Kerala massage seems to be all about rubbing in circular motions. Again this is my opinion. If you would rather prefer masochism, go ahead, give it a try.


Entire gang in the house boat. From Top Left: Pradeep, Muhilan, Ram, Me, Vijay, Bas, Anand, Malai and Poochi.

Our next stop was the Kumarakom bird sanctuary, only it did not have any birds in the afternoon and ended up being a nice stroll. Our final destination for the day was the Vagamon hill station, around 100 km from Cochin, a series of hillocks, valleys and cascading waterfalls. It is an ideal place for trekking, especially in the Oct-Dec. The light was fading fast and we set about capturing some great shots in the twilight. Exhausted with the day’s adventures, we ended our day in the picturesque Hotel River Banks in Thodupuzha.

Vagamon Hill Station

Day 3:

Ram and I woke up early to indulge in some more photography in the wee hours. Our final destination of this trip was Thommankuthu, around 74 kms from Cochin and 18 km from Thodupuzha. These wet evergreen forests are a storehouse of medicinal plants and boasts of a fabulous set of waterfalls having seven steps. Maniathadam to Thommankuthu is supposed to be a good trial with plenty of wildlife. But all we could cover was the waterfalls and we had plenty of fun doing it amidst the heavy rains. We left for Cochin in narrow roads flanked by rubber plantations and reckless drivers.

Early morning photography

Every trip has its share of things gone wrong. And we had plenty of those. One lesson learnt was to plan your own trips instead of trusting tour operators. Ours did not book tickets for the Bangalore guys and booked tickets in the wrong train for the Chennai folks. Finally we managed to call our friends and book tickets from Coimbatore to our respective cities and made a mad dash from Cochin to Coimbatore to catch our buses. Pradeep remarked “There is only so much tension I can take in a day” , retreated into his shell performing “Dyanam”(meditation) and further cramping all of us sitting in the back seats of the Tavera jeep.

We reached Coimbatore just in time to catch the bus and were glad to be inside the air conditioned buses after having more than completed our share of misfortunes for the day. But when it rains it pours and fate is not without a sense of humour. Our bus broke down after around 80 kms from Coimbatore. We spent the rest of the night miserably sitting on the floor of another bus we managed to hop on to.

But don’t let our bad luck deter you! Leave your homely comforts, pack your bags and visit God’s own country. There is no way you will endure as much adversity as us. Also there is no way you can have as much fun as we did!

New scenes in avatar extended edition

2010-09-02T22:44:00.000-07:00

James Cameroon's extended edition of Avatar fills in a few blanks in the earlier story. Here are the new scenes in avatar extended edition (in order):

Grace's destroyed school for the Naavi people. The school doors are ridden with bullet holes indicating a violent end. Finally some justification and the history for hype surrounding Grace Augustine.
Some new animals during the initial exploration of Pandora. Nothing you will miss.
Explanation about floating mountains of Hallelujah. Apparently it is due to large deposits of UnObtanium that acts as a superconductor.
Extended scene depicting dinner during Jake's first night with the Naavi people.
A hunting scene where in Jake Scully learns the ropes of being a Naavi hunter. Looks great on 3D.
I also get the feeling that the sex scene between Jake and Neytiri is a bit longer and wierder!
Another extension explains the anger and ferocity with which the humans attack Home Tree. This shows the Naavi retaliating for the destruction of Tree of Voices by killing a few soldiers and Parker ( The Company Man in Pandora) using this to justify killing of the Naavi and giving the go ahead to the eager Colonel Miles. Not sure why this scene was removed from the original in the first place.
The original picture shows Tsutey plunging to his death after being shot during the final battle with humans. This edition shows him landing on the forest floor in a fatal condition.
At the end of the final battle, a near death Tsutey proclaims Jake Scully the leader of the Naavi people after expressing his pride at having fought beside the Turukmakto. He asks Jake to give him a warrior's death by being his last shadow. One more Naavi custom to the fore.

Some more tidbits in a great saga. Definitely worth watching if you are an avatar fan like me. Corollary holds true as well...

Raavan – Mani Ratnam’s Ramayana

2010-06-20T00:15:00.000-07:00

    This was one movie I had to write a review on. Mani Ratnam’s modern day rendition of Ramayana has very little in common to the original epic we are used to hearing but the basic premise remains the same- love, bravery and later betrayal.

Major story line spoilers ahead. I guess this would have been Mani Ratnam’s rough draft of the movie:

    Ram is posted as a police officer in Lalgarh and comes there with Sita. Lalgarh is a strong hold of Raavan, a Robin Hood type character with a tinge of Naxal tendencies. Laxman and his group of motley police officers gang-rape Surpanika, Raavan’s feisty sister who later as commits suicide as per the requirements of the script to stoke Raavan’s evil side. Raavan promptly kidnaps Sita with an intention to kill her, but desists due to a strange fascination with her. An incensed Rama meanwhile teams up with Hanuman and scours the forests for his beloved wife.
    Raavan’s adoration of Sita grows on by ever growing day and he asks her if she would stay with him in the forest. Hanuman meanwhile finds Sita but ends up getting caught. He warns Raavan to surrender Sita and spare all his people a gory death. Not wanting to end up dead, a few others convince the rebel leader to send his brother, Vibeeshan to talks along with Hanuman. Rama now shows himself to be a sneaky character and dispatches Vibeeshan with finesse and a 22 mm revolver.
    With all options of peace dead and buried, a climatic end ensues with Raavan and Ram poised precariously on a burning suspension bridge. Sita begs Raavan to spare Ram’s life and in return promises to stay with forever. Touché! Raavan obliges, but Sita returns to her beloved husband who wants her to take a polygraph test to prove herself. Sita heads back to find Raavan, but her husband tails her and puts an end to the dreaded bandit.

    Add in a few human emotions, songs, exotic locations and you have got yourself an authentic Bollywood script in three paragraphs! BTW I hope Mani notices this blog and invites me to co-author his next movie script. I am sure I could add a few twists here and there.

Abhishek Bachchan seemed ill at ease playing Beera and his portrayal of the rebel was less than convincing. For folks down in the south like me who happen to grow up with tales of rebels like Veerapan and his murderous deeds, the portrayal seemed to lack the anger and attitude required. I wish there had been a fast-forward option to skip his dance sequences where he seemed totally ill-at-ease. Ragini is not a role that a lot of current Bollywood actresses could have done justice to, and I would say Aishwarya has done a decent job. The eyes are meant to emote fear, but Aishwarya tries to do that by breathing hard! Vikram seemed to fit right into the role of police officer who is ready to do anything to get his wife back and then ask her to take a polygraph test once she is back. Only problem he seemed to have was acting in Hindi.

What shines in the movie is Mani Ratnam’s unique storytelling. This is not the run-of-the-mill Karan Johar movie where all the dots are connected. You are left to make some basic assumptions on why certain things are happening the way they are. Rehman’s scores in the movie seem nowhere near his best. The camera work is great and the landscape where the movie was shot is breadth-taking. Overall I think I liked the movie. Shoot me now...

North India Trip – Chandigarh and Delhi

2010-06-13T10:49:00.000-07:00

We had journeyed into the biting cold of rotang and gone until Darcha on our little adventure. Here is what happened earlier on our quest to reach Leh.

Here is what happened on our way back. While returning from Darcha, we were better equipped to stop and enjoy the snow at Rotang. Spent some time there and headed back to the wretched road to reach Manali in around 3 hours. Guruji, our beloved host, suggested that we bathe at the Vasisth temple hot water spring and we had a gala time obliging him. Felt hungry right after the bath and had a great dinner in a hotel in front of the temple.

Himalayas for you

Day7:
We woke up early the next day and headed to manikaran, a hot water spring around 80 kms from Manali. The hot water spring here is hot enough to cook food for lots of people coming to the gurudwara where it is located. The few brave souls who entered the water didn’t linger as the acidic water causes a burning sensation and make you feel giddy if you stay there for a long time. We had a light breakfast at Manikaran and later stopped over for tea at Kasol on our way to Chandigarh. Kasol is infamously known as the local drug den and we could see a few people smoking joints here and there.
On our way down, we hit a major traffic jam and could only go until Bilaspur before light faded. Stopped around 10 kms before Bilaspur city for tea where the dhaba owner came forward with local information regarding that place. I would like to thank all the very helpful people in Himachal Pradesh who generally come forward for help if they realize that you might need it. We stayed at the Bilaspur local fisheries guest house. The respect and salaams make you wish you worked for the government; almost.

Leaving Himachal Pradesh

Day8:
We left for Chandigarh early after thanking the officer in charge of the fisheries. We had to travel until Delhi that day. Until then, I knew Srini to be a rider who didn’t take a lot of risks. But seeing him step on the gas trying to reach Delhi before sunset, I realized he could step it up if the situation demanded.
Chandigarh is a model city where there is no need to ask for directions. There is a board at every junction indicating which part of the city you are in and explaining all routes and directions. The heat did dampen our enthusiasm, but I found that the rock garden in Chandigarh to convey the message that ‘art doesn’t need brushes and canvas or soapstone, even broken household stuff would do’. The master pieces that Nek Chand created in a shack are now the cynosure of the entire city. Reached Delhi at around 9 p.m. and settled into our friend’s place for the night.

At Rock Garden, Chandigarh

Day9:
We started off the day with a visit to Qutb Minar, the earliest and most prominent example of Indo-Islamic architecture. The 72.5m long tower is the world's tallest brick minaret and was completed in 1386 by Firuz Shah Tughluq almost 200 years after work began. I would suggest the audio guide for any first timer there who is interested in the history of the place.

Cousin Srini at Qutb Minar

Very close to the Qutb is the Alai Minar, an unfinished tower that if completed would have been twice as tall and broad as the Qutb Minar. Alauddin Khilji, the driving force behind the Alai Minar died before the first floor was completed and his successors did not deem it necessary to continue work on the tower.

Alai Minar,Qutb Minar in the background

The nearby 7m tall Iron Pillar is one of the world's foremost metallurgical curiosities as it 98% pure wrought iron and a testament to the skill of the ancient Indian blacksmiths. It was built at the time of Chandragupta Vikramaditya and has withstood corrosion for more than 1500 years.

Iron Pillar

We next visited India Gate, one of the largest war memorials in India. It commemorates the 90000 Indian soldiers who lost their lives in World War I fighting for the British Empire. Now it is just a place to hang out with friends and have ice-cream. We bought lots of litchis that served as our lunch. Srini wanted to take a picture with one of the jawans but was asked to ‘bugger off’. Entertaining.

We later visited the Red fort and stayed for the Light and Sounds show which explains the history of the city from Shahjahan’s time to Nehru giving his speech of freedom from the ramparts of this fort. The show gets pretty boring with time and one advantage of having an SLR camera is that things never get boring. Srini used the time to catch up on lost sleep. Later visited Chandini Chowk for shopping and stopped by at Parantha street for dinner. Fabulous kulfis you get there.

Red Fort

Day10:
    Our second day in Delhi and the weather had been great so far. I wanted to visit the Delhi Metro once to find out how the entire system worked. Srini flatly refused to accompany me and told me that he was prepared to wait until the Bangalore metro was up and running. One thing I noticed is that even though the infrastructure in Delhi is way better than most other Indian cities, there are way too many cars on the road. And that’s why the Delhi Metro is such a vital cog in the city’s infrastructure.
    One possible reason to seeing so many cars on the road here is that petrol is cheap here and CNG is cheaper. Enabling your car for CNG fuel ensures that taking your car out is almost as cheap as taking your bike out. And what would you prefer considering Delhi’s extreme climes – car or bike? This seems to have resulted in a strange fetish among Delhi people to own a car that is at least one level more than the neighbour. Strange! In comparison, Bangalore folks don’t care or don’t know who the neighbour is!
    We moved to Srini’s friend Sagar’s apartment for our last day in Delhi. We knew we were in safe hands when the first place he showed us in Delhi was Khan Market. Torn between gazing at the amazing cars and the hep crowds; the cars proved just too irresistible. We later had authentic North Indian chat at Haldiram’s. We were all set to leave the next day, but by that point in time, I was totally in love with our capital city.

P.S: Thanks to the gods of Delhi for the great weather while we were there. You can now revert to the usual.

North India Trip - Himachal Pradesh and beyond

2010-06-13T09:03:00.000-07:00

Once Srini, my cousin and I decided go on a long bike trip in North India, we began the stretched out process of planning for it. We wanted to go as far as possible along the Delhi-Chandigarh-Manali-Leh road and back on Srini’s rusty dependable CBZ.

On the way to Rotang

Here is a sketch of how it went. You can skip this part unless you are planning a similar trip:

Day1 - Start from Bangalore to Delhi (2061 kms) by train.
Day2 - Boring train journey with bad food.
Day3 – Reached Delhi and unpacked the bike. Left for Chandigarh (250 kms) and visited Kurukshetra on the way.
Day4 - Leave for Manali from Chandigarh (350 kms). White water rafting and amazing ride.
Day5 –Leave for Rotang from Manali (50 kms) and stay at Khoskar (70 kms from Manali) for the night.
Day6- Going further into the wilderness. Visited Keylong (110 kms from Manali) and Darcha (145 kms from Khoskar) before returning to Manali.
Day7 – Hot water spring bath at Manikaran (80 kms from Manali) and stayed put at Bilaspur for the night. (Manikaran to Kullu-30 kms and Kullu to Bilaspur-154 kms).
Day8 – Back to Delhi. Visited Rock garden and rose garden in Chandigarh. (Bilaspur to Chandigarh-135 kms and Chandigarh to Delhi-250 kms)
Day9- Qutb Minar, Red fort and India Gate, Lotus temple and Chandini Chowk.
Day10- Travelled in the Delhi Metro. Visited Khan Market and dinner at Haldirams.
Day11- Shopping at Palika Bazaar. Got the bike packed into the train and set off to home in the evening.
Day12 – Another train journey.
Day13 – Reach Bangalore by 7 a.m. Back to usual grind.

Day1/2:
We left Bangalore on 28th May at around 10 p.m on the Sampark Kranti express. Srini had already loaded his bike into the same train that morning for 2200 rupees. After spending the next day planning, sleeping and eating uncooked railway food, the blistering north Indian heat welcomed us into Delhi. We were desperate to get out of the heat; got our bike back and pushed it to a nearby petrol bunk. The first thing that impressed me about our capital was the well connected roads and infrastructure. We hit the karnal road and left for Chandigarh immediately. Stopped at Rasoi dhaba a k.m into Haryana and got our first taste of simply exquisite authentic north Indian cuisine.

In front of a 3 km long tunnel before Kullu

Day3:
After travelling in a car for more than two years, I took some time getting used to bike travel. We reached Chandigarh at around 7 p.m. Srini played the student card well and got a 50% discount at Plaza hotel. One cardinal rule I would add for bike travellers in India is to pretend you are students; gets you the best rates everywhere.

River Beas in full flow

Day4:
We left for Manali at around 8 a.m. You know you have entered Himachal Pradesh when the pleasant breeze of the mountains replaces the heat of the plains. They say that the journey is more important than the destination and we had a gala time on the way to Manali; be it rafting in the cold waters of Beas river and having chilled beer with the owner afterwards or travelling through a 3 k.m. long tunnel just before Kullu. Reached Manali at around 9.30 p.m. and settled into the cosy house of our host – Das Guruji.
Guruji is an 80 year old ayurvedic doctor who still zips around Manali in his Santro. His secret: Wake up on time, sleep on time, eat on time and eat nutritious food. In that case, any software engineer is destined to die early. Guruji seemed glad to have visitors and chatted with us way into the night when all we wanted was sleep.

Normal work day in Manali

Day5:
We have a great sight awaiting us on waking up- snow clad peaks on the road to Leh, our final destination. Our plan to go to Leh hit a serious roadblock when we learnt that all roads to Rotang were closed every Tuesday for repairs. The policeman in charge ignored our pleas that we would not be able to read Keylong/Darcha before end of day. I spent time exploring the nearby hills and working on my photography skills with Srini as my guinea pig. Finally the policemen relented and let us go ahead at around 4 p.m.
The road to Rotang, which is at an altitude of 15000m, was bad with plenty of places where you could puncture the bikes if you drive carelessly. It took us two long hours to reach Rotang and we were too cold and tired to even touch the ice, let alone play with it. Exactly not how I imagined my first visit to an ice clad peak. Those images of people playing in ice faded as we had a tough decision to make- whether to go ahead towards Keylong in the fading light or restart our journey from Manali the next day.

Me at Rotang pass with furry rabbit

Rotang pass

We decided to head forward after some discussion. Around a k.m. into the drive, the roads were replaced by one foot streams caused due to the melting ice and light started fading fast. Srini started vacillating that we should have gone to Simla and the relatively easier Spiti in Kaza valley; I wanted us to go forward in spite of these difficulties as this was to be our adventure to script. It was at these times that both of us pushed each other to our physical limits and I was thankful to have somebody I trusted. We headed forward to Khoskar around 20 kms from Rotang.
A few more kms into this treacherous ride, a few people warned us about a muddy stretch where their 4 wheel drive had almost got stuck. Once we heard this, Srini rode very carefully expecting any slush of water to be quicksand. And our bike almost got stuck at the exact same location they had warned us about. Fortunately the CBZ came through under these exacting conditions and we went forward to the welcoming village of Khoskar for the night. Never were we so glad to see a dhaba or a village or have a cuppa. The untidy little room were rented there probably costs a lot less than what we paid, but we would have paid a lot more for that at that point in time. We were now officially in the midst of an adventure.

On the way to Keylong

Day6:
We woke up in the morning to find that Khoskar was a beautiful little village surrounded by snow clad mountains on all four sides. Took some great pics. We met a Delhi Constable who had come to Khoskar through the Kaza valley all the way from Simla. He advised us to go to the famous Chandrataal lake on that road. He warned us that he had to get the help of a crane to extricate his new alto car from 4 feet deep pit of water where it had got stuck. Both Srini and I made a mental note to avoid that route all together and headed Darcha.
We filled up petrol in Tandi, around 5 kms before Keylong. Ideally for a Leh trip, this would have been the last location to fill up the tank. Darcha is around 35 kms from Keylong. Throughout the way to Darcha, we came across breathtaking valleys and mountains and stopped at regular intervals to take pictures.

The beautiful little town of Keylong

Written on a board in the treacherous way to Leh – “If you are married, divorce speed”. Not that you can ever find smooth roads to accelerate there! Our Himalayan adventure ended at Darcha but both of us looked back at the mountains one last time promising ourselves that we would one day return to complete the journey to Leh.

Liked my blog on the first part you the trip?? Here's what happened next- North India Trip Continues

Kumara Parvatha Trek - Day2

2009-12-16T08:54:00.000-08:00

We started out on saturday morning at Kukke subramanya and trekked all the way to the Mantap( about an hour away from the Kumara Parvatha peak) to spend the night. Here’s what happened on day two of my trek.
We woke up early and could hear, I could have sworn, was a cheetah cub calling out to its mother. Lenin wanted to check it out but I was sure we’d only become breakfast to some cheetah/leopard out to feed her cubs. Now that I look back at the incident, I have managed to convince myself that it was actually some bird because the implications what a feline could have been hunting near mantap are too gory to imagine. To this day, Lenin says that he would have checked it out if he had had a knife. It’s earned him the sobriquet of “Cheetah Hunter” amongst our trekking group.

The would be cheetah hunter - Lenin

We headed towards the peak at around 6.30 in the morning and soon reached what we thought was the KP peak. We learned that it was a false peak named Sahayadri(I think). The next peak was indeed the right one and we finished up our last loaf of bread and chocolates over there and turned right to trek to Bidahalli(near Somwarpet). On the way we met folks who had chosen the opposite route for the trek i.e. from Somwarpet to Kukke. They warned us about a tough trek route ahead. I did likewise. While the trek from Kukke to the KP peak is a scenic one with mountains and streams, the other trail from Bidahalli is thru dense forests and some steep hills and tougher to climb/descend too.

Deep in the jungle

              A long trek always manages to teach you something about yourself. How you react when you are tired, without food and water? How angry you get when something does not go as you had planned? I learnt that not all things can be planned. Just to enjoy what nature throws at you! Also knowing the general direction of your destination helps when you aren’t able to make out the trial. We had a similar experience after descending 2 kms from the KP peak on our way to Bidahalli where the trial seemed to vanish at a steep hill going downward. We wasted around half an hour retracing our steps to ensure we had taken the right route. I think this was the only point in the trek where in we were not sure what to do. We split up – not a great thing to do for a group of three - Yogesh went back to check for alternative trials, I descended the hill and Lenin was in the middle directing the search. Ultimately he found the trial at the bottom of the hill before I did.
      The rest of the trek was done in relative silence as nobody seemed inclined to speak and waste energy unless necessary. But somehow Yogesh’s enthusiasm for taking photos was not dimmed. Walking amidst the huge trees and shrinking streams is a surreal experience that kind of shows you your place in nature’s scheme of things. We reached the forest check post at around 2:15 p.m. and we were ravenous. We had to trek for a further 4 kms to find any signs of human inhabitation. We asked for food at a few places in the village but no luck. Frustrated we trudged on and soon stopped for rest just before the tiny village ended.
      A few minutes later, a boy walked past with what seemed like a cucumber in his hand. Food! I called out to him and talked about mundane stuff like his name, school etc. while planning to get him to part with the cucumber. He seemed a bit apprehensive at first and replied only in monosyllable to our questions. Lenin and Yogesh insisted that my long hair had started to frighten kids and it was time I cut it. I just pretended not to hear them. Yogesh continued to converse with the kid and convinced him to not only give us the cucumber but also get a few more. The boy gave us the cucumber he had and ran back. We were not too sure about seeing him again.

Feeling the pangs of hunger

We used the salt we had bought for the leeches to add taste to the cucumber. By the time we were done, we could see the boy returning with two more of the precious vegetable. He also had the good sense to add in a few guavas. Dear boy, you have more kindness in your heart than all the adults in your village put together. If I ever choose to believe in miracles, I promise to make you my archangel. The boy ran back home with a smile on his face, a more than generous tip and our heartfelt gratitude.

Trek done. Waiting for the Bus

The last bus from Bidahalli is around 3.45 p.m. We got in just in the nick of time. We headed towards Mysore(via Kushalnagara) to my place instead of returning to Bangalore. I know for certain that my mom hid her surprise well on how much I ate that night. Home sweet home after an amazing trek. I promised myself that I would soon trek the route from the other side i.e. Somwarpet to Kumara Parvatha to Kukke. That, I am sure, would be even better …

Some Useful Info:

Bhattar’s phone no: 9448647947. Please call him up in advance to inform about you visit.

List of items that I suggest you plan for if you are a trek organizer: Dry food, glucose, fruit juices, some citric fruits, first aid kit, knives, bread, butter and jam, bananas, chocolate, salt to avoid leeches, torch, emergency whistles, insect repellant, Camera.

You can hire tents in Bangalore at getoffurass or the Bangalore mountaineering club

But like they say the most amazing things in life don’t always need pin-point planning. Get your ass to Kumara Parvatha. I promise you’d have an amazing time there as well.

Liked the second Part?? Here's what happened earlier Kumara Parvatha trek - Day1

Kumara Parvatha Trek - Day1

2009-12-14T10:07:00.000-08:00

Kumara Parvatha(also known as Pushpa giri), situated around 280 kms from Bangalore near Kukke subramanya, is around 5600 feet higher than sea level, a trekker’s paradise and once of the most scenic places I have ever seen. Having never organized a two day trek before, I have no trouble recalling how I managed to botch up quite a few vital ingredients of the trek.

Sunset at the Mantap

What originally started as an eight member trek whittled down to five after rumors of the king cobra and a treacherous trail at Kumara Parvatha went round. Two more withdrew a day before the trek for personal reasons. In spite of an alluring temptation to cancel the trip citing the dropouts, the final three warriors stood resolute: Me, Lenin (my college mate) and Yogesh(my colleague).

            We had booked tickets in the KSRTC bus to Kukke leaving Friday night. I decided against taking out my swift as we were planning to start the climb from Kukke and make the descent on the other side at Bidahalli, Coorg. Come Friday, Yogesh and I had a client deliverable to complete. Pressed for time, we couldn’t hire a tent, buy provisions or supplies satisfactorily – these contributed greatly to our fall later. Have you ever been on a trip where you aren’t sure it’s on until the bus conductor hoots and the driver puts his foot down on the accelerator? Nope. At least hope you understand how I felt!

            Reached Kukke at 4 a.m., rented a room and slept for the next 4 hours. Skipped the customary temple visit in the morning and started the trek immediately after breakfast. The way to the top is very picturesque. The valleys and the peaks proudly let you know why nature is personified as a woman. Our next pit stop was the famous Bhattar’s house situated midway to the peak, around 4 hours from the Kukke. More than the free lodging (for around 50-60 people), delicious meals and other mundane comforts, it’s the willingness to support and help people that sets the Bhattar household apart. This place is an oasis for the weary trekker. Many trekkers camp near the Bhattar house for easy access to food and water. Thank you Mr. Bhattar, you simply rock!

Yogesh trying to build up some energy

       We left the Bhattar household at around 4 p.m., paid the entry fee at the forest department and headed to the Mantap – the place where we planned to stay the night. Mr. Bhattar had kindly lent us mattress after we informed him about our plan and warned us about the strong winds at the Mantap. To all you folks who read blogs and think the Mantap is some sort of Kalyana Mantap that can house around 12 people – brrrr, snap out of it. Take a tent if you want comfort! The Mantap is a shackle, a stone hedge sort of a structure that couldn’t accommodate more than 5-6. And unluckily for us, it was already occupied.

Why nature is personified as a woman



                Our hopes faded when we saw quite a few people already settled at the Mantap. And we had no hope of making it back to Bhattar’s house as darkness descended quickly on the valley. With only a few stars around, rains seemed imminent and sleeping under the moon was not something we were looking forward to. We reached the mantap and made a few enquiries. Fortunately for us, the others were sensible enough to bring tents. We heaved a sigh of relief. The mantap was all ours for the night!

No Kalyana Mantap this!

Bread, jam and butter never tasted better for dinner and the campfire we got going enlivened us in more ways than one. The trekking group from Tyco industries pitched tent beside the mantap and we discussed about other possible treks in Karnataka and Kumara parvatha peak. They informed us about another group that had gone to camp at the peak to catch the sunrise. And thanks for the warning regarding the heavy winds Mr. Bhattar, the gales were a bitch. Dearly held on to the mattress and bed sheet against the howling winds throughout the night.

Liked the first Part?? Here's what happened next kumara parvatha trek Day2

Bangalore to Chitradurga trip

2009-10-25T10:58:00.001-07:00

I had been planning a trip to Chitradurga for almost a year. While returning from Goa, where we had been to last Christmas, my friend showed me the dim outline of a fort and a mountain beyond and said “that fort is awesome, you should plan a one day trip here”. I vowed to myself to answer the beckoning calls of the awe-inspiring fort.

My swift was raring to go and so was I. I only had to persuade four other software engineers that this would be a worthwhile trip. No easy task this! After weeks of politic maneuvering and cajoling, pointing them to other blogs praising Chitradurga, they agreed. My troupe was now ready: Anand, Malai,Sandeep and Rajesh.

Being the only driver in the group, I had my task cut out. Chitradurga is around 230 kms from Bangalore and I had never driven around 500 kms in a day. We left home at around 7 a.m. I usually drive like my life depends on it (which in a city like Bangalore- it does). The speedometer touched 150 kmph in NICE road. My grey beauty zoomed on and we soon hit the Nelamangala stretch where even going at 15 kmph was an achievement. We had breakfast at Kamat( near Tumkur) and reached the fort at around 11.30.

The impregnable fort is designed in the shape of a snake to confuse invaders. The outer walls of fort are surrounded by a large space that would have been filled with water along with a few crocs and poisonous snakes during an attack on the fort. Our guide next led us to the first landmark in the fort: The gun powder grinder - A marvel of ancient engineering this. Young elephants were used to rotate giant wheels which churned gun powder.

This fort seems to be battle ready even today. Secret locations from where defenders could repel and shoot at invaders, giant walls that still bear the marks of Hyder Ali’s cannons - you can imagine how tough it might have been for Hyder’s soldiers to attack this place.

On the way to the top, we were able to see Jothi Raj (a.k.a Kothi Raj – Translation: Monkey Raj) perform some breath-taking stunts on the ramparts and boulders. A stone quarry worker who struggles to make ends meet, he practices rock climbing with a burning passion and desire. If you visit Chitradurga, find some pity in your cruel city hearts and leave this guy a good tip.

We next visited Onake Obava point, where a brave house wife killed Hyder’s guards to thwart a surprise attack and save her homeland using her onake(a pestle - iron pole used to grind rice). I could imagine a husky housewife dispatching soldiers in that narrow entrance in what can only be described as a grim and macabre fashion. Women those days seemed to be made of sterner stuff! Alas, we all know the fate of such brave souls: death. At least they had the decency to name that fort entrance after her.

The final part of the trek included a climb to the top of the fort. More like a crawl in which I held on to dear life on one hand and my sneakers on the other. Three of the guys backed out even before we got started and arguably missed the amazing 360 degree view from above. I realized it would take at least a day cover the entire fort, our guide had conveniently shown us only the most important locations.

We later visited Chandravalli caves – Dark (don’t forget your torch), dank and the smells of bats is pervading. There is a narrow path in the deepest location that leads to the treasury (If you can consider bat barf treasure!). Personally I did not have the heart to make that wretched crawl.

We had lunch in Chitradurga and later headed home to our beloved Bengalooru. I was totally tired by the time we reached home after the hectic drive, rock climb and cave exploration; a pleasant and satisfied tiredness that hits you only during such an amazing trip

Bangalore to Kudremukh trip

2009-10-15T01:39:00.000-07:00

Bangalore to Kudremukh trip

Day 1 – Sravanabelagola and Halebid

Finally urge to blog gets the better of me! So here’s a travel guide sort of a blog about my trip to Kudremukh trip for 3 days along with my friends. The first thing that hits you when plan a trip to Kudremukh is that there are no hotels or affordable places for lodging. Fortunately I managed to find a long-forgotten-distant relative working in the Kudremukh Iron Ore Company and booked rooms in the company guest house. We were all set for the trip!

Left Bangalore via NICE road at around 8 in the morning towards the monstrous nelamangala road traffic. We were a boisterous group of around ten college mates and beer started to flow soon enough in the morning when I informed them that late breakfast was in store due to delayed departure.

First pit stop was Sravanabelagola at around 1 p.m. The colossal nude statue of Gomateshwara is a 57 feet monolith. Majestic is the only word to describe it. I was particularly impressed with the hoyasala architecture of using supporting structures to hold the massive stone walls. The view from above is surely worth the climb.

Had lunch at Hassan and reached Halebid at around 5 p.m. (just in time actually; the temple closes at 6 p.m.). I have been to many temples but Halebid blew my mind the first time I laid eyes on it. The grandeur of the sculptures, thought, vision and hard work that went into building that temple over a period of 150 years is seriously unparalleled. If you are a first time visitor, don’t forget to hire a guide.

The two massive Nandis in front of this multi layered temple, the imaginary creature Makara, the pillars in the dancing hall, combined with the intricate design and attention to detail on each of the sculpted images makes this temple the greatest example of Hoyasala architecture. And O-boy, talk about the planning and vision of the ancient hoyasala kings. In the software industry, we struggle to gather requirements properly and close projects in time!

Left for Kudremukh via kalasa at around 7. Be careful about the route you take as the roads to Kudremukh might be blocked due to landslides. We finally managed to reach the guest house in a totally exhausted and drenched state at midnight.

Day 2 – White Water Rafting and Hanumangundi falls.

Daybreak greeted us with a very heavy downpour and we were well advised by everyone in the guest house to avoid the Kudremukh peak trek altogether. My co-organizer and I didn’t want to let the folks know that we had somehow planned the trip to exactly coincide with the cyclone ravaging the west coast. We decided to go the Balehole for white water rafting.

I chose the first row for rafting and it certainly satiated the thrill seeker in me. Going through the tiger rapids and the rush of adrenalin just before the rapids is not something that can be put into words. Last word: Do it!

We later visited Hanumangundi falls in the evening. The gush of water forms a mesmerizing cadence of a sort. A few brave souls who entered the water and waddled around for sometime were the first ones to see a real leach at work! (On ourselves that is). There are streams for almost every mile between Kudremukh and Hanumangundi falls. We ended up making quite a few stops on the way and also took a few very good snaps at Kadambi falls on the way.

The way to Hanumangundi falls is full of prime grazing lands and we were fortunate enough to see the native fauna: a herd of bison and later glimpsed a few sambars. This place is totally a treat to any connoisseur of nature. Thankfully Kudremukh has not been commercialized and its eco-system destroyed like a few other hill stations!

Day 3 – Trekking at Kudremukh.

Kudremukh is after all known for trekking and no trip over there would be complete with out it. We choose the shortest trek of around 8 kms to Kurinjal peak. We took around half a kg of salt to avoid the leaches and smeared it on our shoes, legs and arms. The leaches attacked with a vengeance and we finally ran short of salt. I now wonder what the leaches feast on when there are no humans around.

The trek route was filled with mist and we could not see anything beyond 20 feet in all directions. Heavy downpours eased visibility and let us see the landscape beyond for a few moments. Nature at it’s pristine best.

The guys finally got tired of removing leaches from their feet and threatened to head back just a km before the Kurinjal peak. I obliged knowing that if I refused and moved forward, any black eye given to me later wouldn’t have been coincidental at all. Back at the tempo traveler, we finally removed all the leaches (or so we thought) and headed to Nature Camp for tea.

We left for Bangalore at around 12, had lunch at Hassan and finally reached home at around 9.30. The trip exceeded all my expectations and we all left with a sense of satisfaction. I should take my Swift the next time I visit Kudremukh. Now that would be some trip!

TRAVEL SUCKS!!! – PART 1

2007-08-29T21:20:00.000-07:00

“Hurry up, man. We are getting late”, screamed Boss (my friend and roomie), as I was struggling to push all my dirty clothes into the bag. After that disastrous weekend spent trying to cook food; both of us had decided to head home for some real home cooked food. If I am writing a blog on this, goes without saying that we got screwed trying to get home; anyway here’s what happened. ---Hurry---

On reaching Majestic Bus Stand, Boss learned that he needed to go to Mysore Bus Stand to catch a bus to Salem. Bidding him goodbye as he left for the other bus stand, I grabbed a bun for dinner and headed to the place where the buses to Coimbatore were usually stationed. Could find buses to every imaginable place in Tamil Nadu, but my own. What’s that saying about every bus but yours arriving on time. Cursed my Manager for the last minute leave approval. ---Frustration---

The bus finally came an hour late. Using my superior negotiation skills, I managed to convince the driver of the Coimbatore Bus to give me the only unreserved seat in the Bus (For a smooth 50 additional bucks of course). Yeah! But FATE deemed otherwise. Soon a lady with a baby tucked away in her arms came to talk to driver. I realized that there’s no way I am going to get that seat over a contender of that sort. The driver gave me a sideways glance as if says “Sorry Mate”. “Atleast a seat in the cabin” I quipped expectantly, he nodded. ---Expectation---

Then came along two college girls with beseeching looks in their eyes(pretension no doubt) . The driver melted, I cursed. “Middle aged men and ladies sentiment!” Deadly combination. I stood no chance at all. He once again gave me a sideways look which pretty much meant this: “Cut from cabin; paste on top of engine”. I then learnt that the bus door would not close. Precariously balanced on the engine I realized that there was nothing between me and the hostile road but a single bar that I clung on to with desperation. As the bus moved forward amidst the heavy rain, I knew there was no way I could sleep that night. “Do not let go of the bar. Die if you do!” my senses screamed. I held on to the bar and dear life, literally. ---Dread---

The engine heated up soon enough, and so did my butt. I thought wistfully “ Fifty bucks for this privilege. Damn! At least ‘ice-cool’ Boss would have things at his end under control.” Little did I know that what I faced was only the tip of the iceberg? Boss was about to face the thing that brought down the titanic!!! ---Hope---

Did Boss really reach Salem that night? Or even the Mysore Bus Stand? Did any of the buses reach Salem that night? For all this and more, kindly bear with me until I tell you the rest of the story in my next blog. ---Intezaar--

P.S: BTW I am suing the Government over employing too many male drivers who drool over woman. Hoping I can convince them to employ some woman instead. Any lawyers interested?

MILLION DOLLAR QUESTION

2007-08-21T02:06:00.000-07:00

Will the left withdraw support to UPA???

The communists score again. And as usual it is an own goal (or in this case a goal against our nation). The civilian nuclear deal has been in public purview for a long time and the leftists’ raising a hue and cry after the deal is done and dusted doesn’t make sense (at least to me). That America is willing to circumvent the NPT to clinch this deal with India shows its desire and sincerity on the matter (at least to a certain extent!).
So will the left withdraw support: Only time will tell!!!

GOOD OLE HOME COOKED FOOD

2007-08-19T13:15:00.000-07:00

Everything was planned. After much debate the dies were cast: I was in charge of the curry and washing of dishes; my friend, nicknamed Boss, was to take care of the rice and sambhar. Our resumes in the cooking front were not something to be scorned at: Boss was not called the master of eggs for nothing and neither was I a dummy at making upma (Khara bath).But this was the first time since moving to Bangalore that we venture outside our comfort zone to do something we crave from the depths of our souls: cook and eat a traditional south Indian meal.
We decide to start early and I was home by 7 p.m. on that fateful Saturday after buying brinjals and potatoes for my beloved curry. As soon as I starting cutting them, other items that I forgot flood my mind and I immediately call up Boss to add them to his list. He swore but acquiesced. By the time Boss was home with one of his colleagues I remembered two more items. “‘Kadale bale’ and ‘Udina bale’”, I say to him, indicating that these are types of dhal. He scowled and began muttering the two words like some dark oath to an outer world power, on his way to the provisions shop.
May be the gods in heavens were surprised at our enterprise and let forth a drizzle (that soon became a torrent) as if to mock at us. Determined men that we were, we went ahead despite the warning from the above. Things went along smooth for the next 20 minutes. Three spoons of oil, dhal and then the vegetables with a sprinkling of salt; the curry was on course. “Was the curry not done in that time?” You might ask in ignorance. Well for starters, it was a slow electric heater. To finish it all, the blow we had not anticipated: a Power blackout. God of Gods Zeus must have himself wielded his scepter to stop our sacred quest.
The next desolate hour was spent swatting mosquitoes in the darkness and hoping the electricity would be back before too late. Unable to bear the agony of the wait, I went to the terrace hoping to catch a glimpse of any of the third floors girls and possibly engage them in a lively conversation about the significance and finer points of using smaller quantities of garam masala in vegetable curry to improve taste. No luck in that front either. Finally we gave in to the pangs of hunger and went to a hotel and ate the usual mini-meals that we despised so very much.
No wait, wait! That’s not the end of the story. After dinner, Boss decided to go with his colleague to cool his nerves and escape the mosquitoes. I couldn’t blame him, poor lad. Firmly believing I was made of sterner stuff, I bought a mosquito coil and trudged back home. My half fried, half boiled curry was still on the heater and hoping I could savage some of it for tomorrow; I poured all the water from a one of the bottles we use for storing water.
Come morning and I woke up with my usual optimistic “Let’s go conquer the world” mantra. Spent a long time in the bath hoping to forget the previous day. Boss was home before long and I opened the lid of the pan to show him my cleverness at saving our curry. The pan was brimming with oil and insects that I wish never to see again as long as I live. In the darkness, I had poured oil to the curry instead of water.
That was the final straw. I decided to go to office (in spite of it being a Sunday) to commiserate with myself. Boss thankfully disposed what was remaining of the curry and then as if remembering something important, turned to me with a flourish and said “Don’t you go anywhere without washing the dishes”. As I was washing the dishes ( the second task of the complete plan), my only feeling was "Life cant get worse than this!!!"

P.S: If anyone really knows how to make good curry, please send me the recipe. I want to try it out next week!?

To be continued...

English! English!

2007-08-17T22:46:00.000-07:00

God! Where would we Indians have been if not for this language??? Sixty years of English in Independent India and me thinks its time for some introspection to determine its status.
Would like to begin with one R.K Narayan’s short stories where he personifies English as a prisoner and independent India as a judge who determines the fate of the language after independence. “Why don’t you go back to your own country” orders the judge. “I have been here for 400 years. This is more my country than yours” quips the prisoner. For good or bad: ENGLISH is here to stay.

Following is the argument (monologue more likely) that I have with one of my sterner uncles

Him (with a touch of philosophy): Youth today don’t know any language properly. Neither are you guys (pointing his stubby finger at me) well versed in your mother tongues nor do you know English beyond a certain point.
I (thought): Why on earth do you care! Let me get on with Jakson* heights I had just reached.
I (said): Purpose of language is communication and if the English generation with a spattering of English and not so perfect mother tongue has ushered in the IT era; then I would more than be satisfied with it.

Him: Satisfied? Would you ever know the pleasure of reading the scriptures or the joy of reading the Vedas in Sanskrit?
I (thought): Why would I even bother reading them. Thank God my parents enrolled me in an English medium school. I really can’t imagine both of arguing about English in Sanskrit.
I (said weakly): There are good translations.

Him: Pah!? I think youth have lost much by not mastering the regional languages.

He then went on to give me a stare indicating the conversion was over. All my conversations with him end in this manner! With him hoping that he’s given me some “gyaan” and with me feeling “What was that all about?”

If given an opportunity these are the agrs that I would have presented him with:
The JOB factor: Unless you talk some fancy English, most companies worth their salt hesitate to hire you. Fluency in English assures, if not guarantees a good job. Why else would most parents insist on English medium school for their wards
Agreed that it’s not the language of the masses, but it’s probably the only true national language of India.
Regarding not being able to read literature in mother tongue and not being proficient and competent enough in the mother tongue; I must admit that my uncle was right. This is not surprising since regional languages have been relegated to second position in most states.

All said and done, The English Juggernaut roles on, oblivious of whether or not blogs like these argue and discuss its significance in modern India. The English may have lost but English certainly rules our nation.

* Jakson heights: Third stage of NFS Underground. For the benefit of those unfortunate souls who haven’t yet played the game.

Into the world of Blog

2007-08-13T22:28:00.000-07:00

Blogging caught my fancy a few days ago. So here I am.. A small step into an endless ocean. Will start the actual blogging as soon as sth fancy strikes me.