...Bhagwaan ke liye hi to hai

Four weeks of continuous pestering and I found myself waiting for a Volvo bus to Shirdi with my buddy Bobin. I guess the motive was to get out of Mumbai...have some good time travelling around over a weekend. I still cant figure out why he chose to have a pilgrimage. But I was up for it nonetheless. I have heard a lot about Shirdi. I think we need more saints like Sai Baba since he caters to people belonging to different religions. So there I was, waiting outside Dominos in Vikhroli. NEETA Volvo was the chosen travel agent. We had already smoked one joint...waiting for the Volvo at 11.30 pm was easier that way. I had a back-up for our return journey. Apparently our bus was late. Two buses passed by giving us the same info.

"Bhaisaab, 11.30 ki Shirdi waali Volvo yehi hai kya?"

"Nahin, woh peeche aa rahi hai"

The third bus was a sleeper, we wanted to get on it anyway but that didnt happen either. God works in unknown ways. We had a back up joint. It was 12.30 already and the bus promised to get there in 45 mins...which meant anything between 1-2 hours. We were left stranded there, with a stray dog whom I named 'Dawg' with us. Bobin took his seat on a nearby motorbike. I was trying to get Dawg interested to do some movement to amuse us. He didnt budge. Dawg preferred to sleep very close to the 1st lane of the highway...which was his prime timepass as well. Everytime a car or autorickshaw passed by, Dawg would be disturbed because there was a fear of being run over; Dawg would get up...move around for a while and again settle at the same position. This manouvre would go on for the whole night. Dawg.

Bobin and I made a healthy diplomatic decision to light up the second joint. This would give us some necessary comfort. An hour later we were on the bus. After settling down inside, we found that the AC regulator in the Volvo wasnt very effective, it was running in full swing. I was prepared for this eventuality...many bus rides in Malaysia with screwed up Aircon controls had taught me this. Bobin was caught unaware...he used his towel to save himself from the extreme weather conditions. The rest of the people inside were also troubled by this. Some were hiding under the curtains. The driver didnt respond to anyone's request...kept driving like a madman. He managed to hit all the potholes between Vikhroli and Shirdi.

It was a great relief to alight from the bus. At 6 am we reached Shirdi. There was a lot of hustle and bustle. The earliest darshan starts at 4 am...so the area around the temple is awake by 3.30 am. We hired a room for an hour for Rs.30 for the morning chores. It was the most beaten hotel room ever. I was not very bothered until I saw the bathroom. The anglo-indian commode didnt have a toilet seat...the indian way it would be. I tried mounting on it...and to my horror..it fell to one side. I jumped away. I wondered how it has been used by people before me. Finally I mount it like a gymnast on parallel bars. Some exercise after a chilling bus ride. I warn Bobin of the commode situation. He manages without a murmur.

The Darshan

The temple complex is surrounded by roads on 3 sides and a small by-lane on the fourth side. There are a lot of shops selling holy merchandize on this lane...sugar balls, nuts, sweets, saffron cloth, coconut etc. The devotee (Bobin and me in this case) has to pay exorbitant price for these items since there is no bargaining with a franchisee of His Holiness. Any attempt to get a better deal comes with a warning of sorts -

"Le lo saab, Bhagwaan ke liye hai."

So we paid Rs.130 for a packet full of such items and marched towards the main temple. Any such shrine in India also is surrounded by other smaller deities with their own little story. There was a DwarakaMai Mandir in the same complex where a lot of people had queued up. Supposedly, it used to be a Darga before something happened and it was converted to a temple. We moved on to the entry gate.

The recent terrorist attacks have made such places a little more sensitive towards security issues. There was a gaurd with a metal detector. He asked us to use the Mobile Cloak Room and not carry it inside the temple. We moved to the Mobile Cloak Room and back. The Mobile Cloak Room was across a 40ft Road. There were a lot of people selling their SaiBaba merchandize again on this street. Also, it was the chosen spot for various travel agents to park their Tata Sumos, Tempos, Trax etc. and look out for passengers. There were frequent instances of 2 Tata Sumos negotiating a U-turn simultaneously on different parts of the same street with other private vehicles waiting to pass through. Welcome to the Indian Traffic Situation. Gutkha-chewing drivers swearing at each other...making the toughest manouvres with the least tolerance...staring at some hot chick...spitting with derisive contempt on the street...yelling at the same time at some prospective customer

"chala..Shingnapur chala.."

Bobin and I were walking barefoot on that street with blobs of spit lying around. After all this, I am sure we can easily cross a field laid with visible landmines with least damage.

The re-entry to the temple complex took us inside a big hall that was designed to provide a roof to a long queue of people waiting for Darshan. That was the first bit of organized effort towards temple maintenance. The queue was long and took us around 1 hour to reach the finish line. The hall had been divided by horizontal rows of steel railing. We had to be careful about the people behind us every moment inside the hall...every turn had a scope for overtaking. Bobin and I strictly gaurded our position. There were frequent attempts by this Uncle behind us..we named him Schumacher. Now Schumacher Uncle had his own strategy. We thought that he had been in the game for a few years now...not ready to retire though. He kept up the pressure when the line was slow moving...and made his moves only when there was a gap ahead of us. He was successful also but we were no novices either. There were others who were following lane discipline and every once in a while we had some Aunty coming with a baby in hand...moving along passing everyone as if she was the Safety Car in the race...a wailing baby made her passage easier. There were a few who didnt want the pressures of this race and just jumped the railings. Two of them were caught and were asked to start afresh by the security gaurd at the end of the line..Mr. Ecclestone.

Bobin and I managed to keep a good position all through but that turned out to be only a race to get the Pole Positions. After this hall, we were guided to a staircase onto first floor where there were a few hairpin curves too. We lost a lot in this phase because of low stamina. Schumacher Uncle stepped on it somewhere before the staircase and we could see him drifting across the finish line...chilling. The last bit also had the most resistance and chaos. The gaurds kept yelling on people who took more time in front of Sri Sai Baba. Every person was allowed a contact time of 2 seconds in front of the statue...

Bobin and I left there quickly in disgust. All this for a 2 second moment with Shirdiwaale Sai Baba. We moved out of there..back on the street with irate gutkha-spitting drivers. I negotiated a deal to go to Shingnapur and back. It was 85 kms away and as per the driver's calculations, it would take around 4 hours for the whole trip. We got on the Sumo. The other seats were taken by 3 Aunties..and a group of 5 people who seemed to be from Haryana but staying around Delhi. We named them - Delhi Thugs (read De-lee). As soon as the journey started and the Delhi Thugs got busy talking about all the big cars that they had seen on Delhi streets. Bee-um-dublu, Mer-si-dis, Lambur-ginis etc. Delhi Thugs went on about all this for the next one and half hours till we reached our destination...after which they paused to get off the car and started all over again.

As soon as our car double-parked in a make-shift parking lot, a man with a saffron tika on his head came by and hung a few saffron lungis by the car window.

"Yeh dhoti pehen neka..aur wahan par nahane ka. Fir hi tum darshan ke liye ja sakte ho. Gaadi main sab saaman chhod do..koi tension nahi hai"

He was also offering a 250 gm packet of mustard oil. All this even before we got off the car. Delhi Thugs were halfway to the temple already...they were fast. Bobin and I decided to disembark. An old man came rushing towards us...searching for my wrist. He had huge strands of saffron thread around his neck. The idea was to tie a bit and then charge me for the service. It was a battle of persuasion. At last, he spoke - "Shani Bhagwaan ka ashirwaad hoga. Apka pariwar sukhi hoga..." I moved away and Bobin said - "nahi chahiye." He left. We won our first battle. I went back into the car to get some water. As soon as I came back out, the man came back to us charging again. The same battle ensued...and this time, I delivered the victory dialogue - Nahi Chahiye. The man left again to find some other car. I had the Mantra to swim across all the Holy Rivers and not be duped by a single Godman.

We didnt take the lungi and free bath offer. Bobin was disinterested to come to Shingnapur in the first place. We were hungry. The only food that we had had since morning was a cup of tea and a Batata Wada. We still moved bravely to the main temple. All along the way, I was greeted by locals and asked to take a bath before entering the temple. At the temple, there were two entrances, one for ladies..and gents who didnt want to wear the lungi...and another for the lungi clad men. I walked around the temple using the former line. There is a big rock at the centre of the temple where people pour the Mustard oil. It is supposed to be a ShivaLing. I offered my prayers and left the place.

We waited for the next 45mins at the car. There were two more instances of the saffron thread man attacking us during this period. The Delhi Thugs were not to be found. I was sure they sat down to have a heavy lunch somewhere...not caring about the fellow passengers. Frustrated, we took another vehicle back to Shirdi. It was an tempo ride back that I enjoyed...no chattering co-passengers...sugarcane fields stretching upto the horizon. We were a little tensed since we were faraway from Shirdi and our bus would leave at 4 pm. We asked our co-passenger...a calm Marathi Manus who was sitting with his family -

"Aur kitna time lagega Shirdi pahunchne mein?"

"Aur dus minute"

We relaxed the next ten minutes only to find that we were nowhere near. I asked him again and he said calmly -

"aur dus minute lagega"

I couldnt help but laugh. I tried hard but I could not come up with a name for my fellow passenger. He was a simple man..working at one of the shops around the temple selling holy merchandize. I asked him how much a plastic bag full of prasad would cost...he said around Rs.50. I told him that I paid Rs.130 for it this morning. He smiled and said -

"Bhagwaan ke liye hi to hai..."

We waited for 30 more minutes to reach Shirdi at around 4.10 pm. The bus had decided to leave at 4.30 pm. We thanked the Lord for saving our day by delaying the bus.

Big Bang Theory

Pune City has funny named places in it. I went to one such place - Pimpale Saudagar. The friends that I visited called the place - The Resort. A Resort it is indeed, for obvious reasons. Bhai had once given me the description of the top floor flat with its terrace opening up to Pune heights. The description did fit in beautifully...albeit a bit smaller in size. But the personalities I met therein were astronomical. They are the caretakers of the Resort now until it withers away into our glorious past.

Chomko and his friend - Derry - decided to drive down to Pune and were kind enuf to let me hitch a ride. At first I met up with BluesMan Tom aka Prem Chopra. We offered our prayers to the Gods and went on a musical trip. BluesMan being a man from the hills has maintained the quorum of his flat to be people from his region. The Yamaha guitar and the desktop with good speakers and a broadband internet connection. It was a good four hour trip with the bluesman. I left for the Resort in the evening.

Due to unforeseen circumstances, we got delayed and the people at the Resort felt all the stages of anxiety...ending in hopelessness. But finally we reached our destination. Chomko is a good driver. KhambaMan was already halfway thru his daily quota at Govind Garden Bar. Chuzukee and Politburo were at the Resort - chilling. We didnt quite settle down there...made our way to Govind Garden. A momentous bonding session ensued. KhambaMan at the head of the Table, me and Chuzukee on the two sides. Politburo beside me. Chomko and Derry taking their place beside Chuzukee. We took our turns to congratulate each other for making it to the table. It was perhaps my first session ever with Politburo. Even the others took notice of this. I named it - Gatbandhan.

We have all matured into pretty seasoned alcoholics...me being the worst of the lot. Chuzukee was giving me company for his own reasons. Chomko being the wine Baron, took responsibility of getting everyone pissed drunk. KhambaMan volunteered even before the event had started. Politburo kept his composure...maybe expecting a new move from the opposition. We spoke about how far we are from College. It was around 4 years...

Everyone of us is like a particle travelling outwards in space...ejected at the moment of culmination of the REC Durgapur life. We took different directions, but were part of the same wavefront. Every event in our lives altering our direction. But we were all still moving outward, faraway from each other every moment. Every such Govind Garden moment is like an explosion. A contraction followed by an expansion...where a few of us manage to converge to a point...spend a moment together..only to comeback to our original positions in the next instant or maybe diverge again. The College life then, KhambaMan and I agreed the next day, was the Big Bang that caused this entire creation. If it hadnt been for the Alma Mater, this would never have happened. And this is just one way of looking at it.

By now I have managed to meet many of the people from my College life. The trip to college - Shani is not doing well. He is not interested to work anymore and seeks solace in a bottle of Bangla 60. There are too many bitter memories of people who are no longer with us. Particles which just vanished/burnt away. KhambaMan also mentioned about the Lost. Chuzukee later told me that Politburo has had his share of outbursts.

KhambaMan has become a premium customer at Govind Garden. His appetite for alcohol has increased several fold. I could see my alcoholic Uncle in him...drinking his daily dose..eating food and sleeping like a baby...waking up next afternoon to some whisky and soda. Food at 3pm and sleep again. In between all this, talking about his likes and dislikes..eventually losing control and sense.

KhambaMan posed the question - What is Life? - and all its variants. Being the smartass that I am, I tried answering it to the best of my capabilities, that is, quoting a lot of facts from wherever...and eventually saying - I dont know. It is then that KhambaMan also said -

A lot of things still remain unexplained. And every now and then all u can do is just look up and heave a sigh,"Kya baat Hai!!"

I was in total agreement.

A sojourn

Riding on an a/c taxi from Changi Airport to my residence I was surprised to see the superway that looked new. On inquiring I found out that the look was changed to promote Singapore tourism. 'New plantations and flowers. This will make people like you to come to Singapore more la.' I was struck with an amazement that lasted a whole one hour. The median had been taken off and colourful flower baskets were laid in its place...giving it a very pleasurable feel in the 10 o'clock sun...probably at any hour of the day. The cars on the road followed strict lane discipline. Every 500 m there was a signboard giving directions, speed limits, time required to reach the prominent destinations nearby...a clear understatement - welcome to Singapore..we are a developed country and we would like you to feel at your comfortable best while you are here. 72 hours earlier I was rushing in a fiat taxi to Mumbai Chhatrapati Shivaji Airport to get the earliest flight to Kolkata. 6 hours prior to that I was drinking from a bottle of bourbon with a mission to accomplish - to the last drop. I was drunk and the 6 am breeze gave me the warning signs of the Mumbai madness that will soon follow as the day proceeds. My taxi was not a/c and at a erroneous traffic signal made the driver bawl out 'Bhenchod, na khud jaate hain...na kisi ko jane dete hain' My sombre self let out a smile thinking about the reaction of my co-passenger. It was my Dad. The man had come to Mumbai 35 years ago and learnt its ways. He sat there unflinchingly...the comment meant nothing to him...the indifference took away my smile. Sushil - the taxi guy - was my father's regular airportman. When you are in Mumbai and have to get around, you need such kind of point men who can answer your calls at any hour. We had called him at 5 am. I saw him rushing down the main road of Vashi and jerk to a stop...and in that quick motion throw out a passenger and his luggage...get back in and pick us up. It took him not more than 23 seconds. We were in time for the Jet Airways flight. The domestic terminal had been recently renovated. Its design will definitely evoke the Shanghai dream among all who plan to see Mumbai there. A quick check in and even quicker take off told me that the bourbon was good. Everything moved fast around me...next thing I remember is staring from the last seat of the airbus to a mega crowd of mostly bengali chatter excited to celebrate Holi in the city of their birth...or something in that effect. I dozed off. Arriving in Kolkata airport has always been a rejuvenating experience. Even the conveyor belt reflects the laziness of the staff...of the taxi unions...of the city. The whole of Kolkata wants to sit back and sip at their cup of tea and filterless Capstan while the world kills itself by running on a mega environmentally unfriendly treadmill. And the airport is a multi-holed veil that fails to mask this image completely. Outside, as the warm and humid Kolkata air played with my sweat pores...the bourbon began to fade. On an ambassador taxi that couldn't do more than a 60 kmph...we were riding through the empty streets streaked in vermillion red and occasional greens and purples and whites. There were people out there willing to take a shot at coloring my solemn face but the driver had warned against rolling down the windows before we left the airport. It was Holi (Dol in bengali) and I was riding my blues. We were on our way to a town 65 km away...and the taxi steadily moved at sixty. It was an old cab and made a lot of creak and whistle. None of the indicators worked and if the driver's hand would be off the steering wheel for 4 seconds...we would be off the road. But it kept riding like a surfboard made out of plywood on a rusted steel surface. There were frequent dents on the road and even if there weren't any...the taxi would have made us felt otherwise. We were on our way to a funeral. There had been a death in the family I had not seen them for more than 3 years...it hardly meant anything to me. I was there for my father but my indifference towards the demise was evident. To me it was a joyride before I got back to my professional lifestyle 3000 miles away. It was important for my father to see the last remains of his elder brother..I could feel that much. And I was willing to go to any length to make that happen...but as it has always been..we are all slaves of time...and I felt helpless like so many times before. We passed through shacks and railway crossings and more shacks and dilapidated buildings and more such and not in that order until my eyes met one of the highlights. I have always been overjoyed at the sight of lush green paddy fields...spreading beyond my horizon. Each square meter of paddy alongwith the hardworking farmers and the shrimps in the thin hand-dug canals and that occasional tree amidst every 30 acres of land said to me in unison - 'Welcome back to the great gangetic plains. Hope you have a safe journey.' I nodded mildly as if acknowledging their message. There were a few songs that I would like to listen at that moment and they moved back and forth in my head...browsing through them...I felt at peace with the lack of my mp3 player because there was music with me. When you are riding on a beat up taxi out on the small towns of rural India...of all the things you are blessed with...there is music somewhere. A lot can go wrong but the music is never over. I glanced through the empty dashboard of the taxi...the beat up knobs and meters. At one of the toll stations that the driver stopped at...he pulled a knob from a row of 7 knobs and the engine died. I was amazed to find this obsolete system still in use...him and the rest around him never felt the need to upgrade and so was evident across the state of Bengal...just the essential. There was a plastic idol of Sri Ramakrishna stuck in the centre of the dashboard. The driver was accompanied with a sidekick. His job was not to speak...just look out on the road and other things on it. Never to complain about anything and learn the way the driver had mastered his skill of driving that tinbox of a car. For all I could see, he was a good student. He had dropped in some jarda at the corner of his mouth when we started from the airport...and all through those 65 odd kms...he kept sucking in satisfaction. At once the driver ordered an agarbatti for Sri Ramakrishna. The sidekick moved in lazy moves to find the box of incense sticks and matches...the driver guided him to the compartment in front left. Out came the box...2 sticks...a strike at the box...2 agarbattis were lit and stuck to the dashboard at some crack. Older agarbattis had left their mild burns on the pleathery surface. 'Atleast pray to the Lord before you that baba...what to teach these young generation,' the driver quipped. The sidekick took the two agarbattis out and moved them around the idol in small circles and stuck it back...disinterestedly went back to his juice of satisfaction and his dull Holi morning. I guess he was thinking about the glass of bhang that he didn't finish before leaving...or maybe he was already stoned. Whatever it was...he didn't choose to bother others with his state. Suddenly my Dad's cell phone rang and the voice at the other end inquired about our current location. He said that the family was moving to the crematorium. They could not wait any longer. It was close to 11.30 am and were still 30 mins away. My Dad couldn't say much to stop them. He was anyway falling short of speech...away from the mild hustle bustle of taxi ride. He was riding his wave of memory with his elder brother I guess. And the lush green plains outside his window were the best screens to project from the celluloids of his memory. When a close one dies...all you care to see at that moment is the body. The Bhagwat Gita talks about the soul being immortal and the body being 'Maya'...but when it comes to the death of a loved one...we want to see the body and not think about Maya...or soul..or Bhagwat Gita..we leave that for 2 weeks after the death..when the sorrow is at a point where we need to choose between it and the pressures and committments of our own lives. I was cursing the lack of upgrade in the entire state...had it been there...it would have increased our chances to get there faster although we were doing a constant 60 given the empty roads. We reached just in time at the crematorium and saw the last of a loved one. There was an air of sadness and stench all around. In a grid of 3x3 there were 9 bodies of the very poor and helpless. My uncle was a well known Vet in the town and so had the precedence over others. All others had to wait. The longer you wait before a dead body..the harder it gets to stop the tears...to stop the images of better times in our minds...to rest the abrupt end of our promised better times. We are so populated as a country that even our dead have to wait in a queue before their last rites.

Basking under the Sun: Convocation 3

Day 2. I wake up at around 10.30 am and see Arun rushing to attend some class. Benzene waits outside. I take the room keys and get back to another 5 mins..before I realise that I can get back to sleep once I leave Durgapur. I have to go to college and see how it looks like...and also inquire about Degrees being handed over to people with authority letters. Before I go to college, I go to Techno for something to munch on...I choose my favourite nutrition during my 4 years...'Bum' and Frooti. I meet Shambu and Kailash...small talk. I move towards college from the path behind Hall 1. That patch hasnt changed. As I near college...I see another change - a fountain in front of the college building. Inside the college building...I am using the best of my corrected 6/6 vision to avoid contact with any professor who can remotely recognise me. The first floor is always emptier, so I take the first staircase to it. Outside IT dept. I meet one of my EE profs and he wishes to talk. We a 10 min conversation of i-dunno-wat but goes on the lines of where-are-you-and-how-have-you-been. I move on...Mech Dept...LG..TR..AM dept..TR..LG...the dept that screwed me...completely. I stand outside the dept looking at the signboard - Electrical Engg Dept. Below it...the doors to my hell...long corridor with the rooms on the left belonging to the demons and the rooms on the right - their workbench. At the end of the corridor- the broken window pane. The white wash still giving a very dull but calm look on the outside...probably signifying the silence before a storm. I see some students coming out of the dept. silently like we used. Somehow, none of us never had anything to say to each other whenever we walked out...there would be something when we walked in..but nothing when we came out. In the LG behind me, SKD teaches another batch of uninterested students. I peep in just for kicks...there are none. My work is done. On my way out I take the ground floor corridor...ask someone from the Academic Section about Authority letters...nobody is informed. I move to jhoops. Haria is already there...his dishevelled look remains constant with the image of jhoops...plate in hand..glass of chai on the side..asking for more...some guys sitting around...but food is prime..where are the other guys?? I see Dhiru...he came early in the morning....some guys from junior batch also have come for the convocation. The college is saving money...conducting the Convocation ceremony of 2 batches of BE and one batch of MCA and some Ph.d students. A big convocation hall belonging to the CPI(M) has been booked somewhere in citycentre. Saif has also come..there must be more people from our batch...guys working in Kolkata plan to come down in the evening. Its nice to meet batchmates that you want to meet after a period of a couple of years. They remind you how fast things are changing and how further away you have moved from your previously known self... The only sad part about such meetings is that they can't last for more than 15 mins. > kaisa hai.. >> main theek hoon...tu bata.. > bas yaar chal raha hai.. >> job shift maara kya..ya waheen hai... > arre abhi nahin yaar...dekhte hain..tu abhi bhi hyderabad main? >> haan...agle mahine shayad Bombay move hai..company relocate kar rahi hai.. > sahi..wahaan pe toh public hai apni.. >> haan..sahi hai...timepass ho jayega... ........... eventually there is nothing more you can talk about....it always veers off to this....its frustrating and at times depressing..but I guess thats all what it is all about... I have such conversations on the phone...on chat...and I had it there with Saif and Dhiru. I settle down...my poch and chai are ready without me asking for it. Jeet hands it over to me. Kya baat hai - I exclaim. Jeet smiles and leaves. Trainee Chhotu is doing the dishes these days...there is a dog around jhoops -Kalu- adopted by Shani after it bit Shani during Holi earlier that year. I go thru the HT City to find the sleaze quotient of Bengal page 3 these days...it is impressive but nothing compared to Bombay times....or Times of India actually. The Gang left for college...none of them seems to be around jhoops arnd 11.30 am...Haria observes. Within moments Kelu and Imtiyaz arrive. Guitar in hand. Shani cannot manage the smirk. He is not at his dias today...he relaxes...probably the after effects of the previous night. He calls me over and gives me an envelope...the package sent by Jitu. Before I manage to see whats inside...I smell MaryJane from shacks of Hoskote and I thank my stars...Haria turns around to see me...he knows that our prayers have been answered. An aura of excitement sweeps thru jhoops...Shani doesnt understand what makes us smile...I ask him to give me 15 mins to explain. We get to work. Kelu and Imtiyaz throw in their supply and look on...I return that. Arun and Alamin walk in..there are murmurs about logging into some strange frequency within the next half hour. I am told about a certain personality...we await his brilliance. This personality has been introduced to me in the previous evening but his talent hasnt come to the fore yet. We are talking about Kush. I ask Alamin about Kush's whereabouts, he nods and starts making frantic calls. He will arrive another half hour. What is it exactly that we are expecting..I ask. Just wait to see... While I am at work....my hands moving like that of a professional poker player..a silent guy watches me..asks - yeh kahaan ka hai? I explain...he is satisfied by the answer. Watches me work without a work...I am done in 10 mins and Shani is ready to understand. The silent guy also wishes to know...I am willing to explain because I like his questions...his way of putting them. Haria is also ready...we are honoured by having the company of Saif. The gang also waits. Within the next 10 mins...everybody is mellowed down. We are back in our own time...the Durgapur Sun at 12 pm...our hunger..the after taste of tea and nicotine...the lazy traffic of Mahatma Gandhi Avenue... The silent guy thanks me...I feel embarrased by his sense of gratitude. Meet Norbu. He is a man of the mountains...there is peace and tranquility in his ways and speech..and a wisdom begeted from the mountain gods. I stand up to deliver a discourse....one of my favourite actions at such moments...I thank Shani, every member of The Gang present for making my trip so special. Norbu is part of the gang. He accompanied us for the rest of our trip. It was a privelege and honour to have his company...and more importantly...know him. Sometime after my discourse...a guy walks in with Shades on..Kush enters. Settles down at the far end leaning to the bamboo...his weight disturbs the ants meandering in the cracks within the concrete stilt...but they are too small compared to us humans to fathom what hit them. People gather around Kush...Aks sits on the other end disinterested. They all ask him his comments about a lot of things...last night..music..kurt kobain..professor...Aks' hair...etc. His answers are....well...I can try and sample one from my memory.. Kush About Haria - Haria is a light brighter than phosphorus sunshine...like rare element inside coke that is tasty and poisonous too. I hate pepsi. That is Kush for you..and now I undertand what they mean when the talk about Kush freqeuncy. We listen to more of Kush and after a while I am bored and I speak to Norbu...learn more about him. Imtiyaz keeps fingering the fretboard. Aks remains disinterested...coming out with his own wisecracks every now and then. Arun keeps tripping on Kush. Alamin keeps laughing. Jeet keeps cooking...Chhotu is on with his training..Shani keeps a watch with an occasional chat with Haria and me and another mouthful of smoke...passing cigarettes around. Saif moves out to see other people in college...Dhiru joins him. Kelu sits silently on the side. More players of the jhoops scene drop by for lunch...more smoke goes around. Its fun to get wasted like this. Haria and I plan to go sit in the Oval sometime late in the afternoon. Anup tells us that he has planned an LC meeting for the evening when Roshan walks in...tells Haria that the arrangements are done. Roshan has planned for a small gig on the Basketball court along with Mic and Speakers...people are told to pass the word around. This is simply amazing...our own gig. Roshan is incredible..I am eternally indebted to him. Firstly for planning the Dgp trip for haria and now this. Impossible. He sits down excitedly...I ask Jeet to fulfill all food-related issues of Roshan asap (which anyway would have occured)..I order Limbu pani for him...I dont know to thank him.. He inspects the chatter around...inspects each person. Roshan and Haria have been playing this little game of categorization for some months now where they study a person's movement/actions/words and then define his intellect level - viz. concept level 1, level 2 and level 3(legend)..with each of the first two levels subdivided into lower limit and upper limit for ease. Within the next half hour I watch in amazement at the expertise that Roshan has gathered...with ease he completes labelling every one of those present there. The Gang is disturbed by this as they donot understand the game and only see Roshan pronouncing the words 'Concept Level 2 Lower limit' or its other variant with a finger pointed at someone. Haria asks them to take it light...not to bother. They agree and Aks makes a crack on Roshan...Roshan looks at him...smiles and says 'View from Top'. The birth of a new label...a new school of thought...and in the near future..a new orkut community. Anup doesn't understand any of the happenings but still keeps laughing..Aks makes a crack at LC and he stops laughing. The Gang is all-active and it is fun to see them at work. Meanwhile Kush has been silenced with some 'ghugni' and chai and Arun sits at one end of jhoops monitoring all the activities..a la Godfather. Haria and I move to Oval...Arun accompanies us but later leaves for basketball..Norbu promises to meet us later in the evening at the gig. There is some cricket match going on in the Oval...we settle down in the topmost step of the stands. It is an interesting match...inter hall I am told. We light up another joint over there...and around that time are met by Elizabeth and Paromita. Pleasantries exchanged and they move on...we were more bothered to finish our joint. Babloo is with us...he has taken off from work for the afternoon. The match is soon over and the field is empty. We go down to lie on a patch of grass. Babloo doesnt understand why we would do so..but joins us anyway. We face the college building for a while and see some profs moving out..discussing about them. Then we face LH and finally the clear blue sky lying flat on our backs.... After an hour of silence...we wake up to get something to eat and get ready for the next biggest part of the trip...LC meeting and our little gig. The moment has all the signs of a memorable evening...but like all things between Haria and me...we could screw this one up too...or it might be straight out bad luck. For reasons best known to me...I am not very hopeful about the next 5 hours..and Haria expresses his skeptism too. We drop the conversation when we are arrive at the library going towards jhoops and Haria spots his HOD...we both decide that it is best in his interests that he doesnt see us in our present condition - shorts, slippers..twigs of grass hanging from wherever..we hide behind a pillar. Another day is saved.. ..we go to the jhoops.

Inside the Den: Convocation Part II

Over the next hour...i meet familiar faces and occasional stares...by now I am comfortably set into the Durgapur evening and the guitar is out...I have an audience...it couldn't ask for more!! The chai keeps running and so does the smoke...the longing for that taste has been satisfied for the moment. We all eagerly await the arrival of Haria.. After countless doses of chai and smoke and exactly two Poch, Shani is ready to close down for the day..its getting dark...and we move to Arun's room - my pad for the 3 day gala. Certain things that i observe on my way towards Hall 5 - - the entrance to the campus near hall 4 has been closed and fortified by the newly built campus wall. - there are signboards in front of every building - the Thela's serving aloo paratha and chola batura are no longer there - the Mess has been redone with better flooring and new Nilkamal Table and chairs - the bathrooms have been redone with better equipment and flooring - the lights in all the wings still dont work - most of the students are glued to their computer screens...LAN wires running in a complex network and multiplayer games being played with vigour.. - Gtalk runs throughout the campus as the next best medium to contact someone after the cellfone - Techno is almost empty....so are the streets where people used to simply loiter during my time.. ......It is depressing to see the campus this way...but I guess this must be better than the ragging scene, the SAM going crowd, getting into fights, watching softcore movies in Bench and Luxor, doing rounds of Bench for no reason, aiming for Teku.....all the things that contributed a lot to my college life... I settle into Arun's room and there I find the most hairiest guy I have ever seen on campus..I am shocked. It is Aks. Super long hair...shoulder length...no shave either...dark pitch black lips and somewhat white teeth within..thin physique and a mild hump...and ultra dirty clothes. A total shocker. I congratulate him for his look...I thought of telling him why...he has made it to the Hall of Fame of Dirtiest people in REC Durgapur (currently NIT Durgapur.) I am told that Tulsi, one of the members of THE GANG* has gone home for personal reasons. He is the prime jester...I miss him anyway. *THE GANG is the current batch of final year students who are practising the arts of getting high, listening to loud rock music, get pissed drunk and feel the Durgapur blues despite all this... I have met three members of THE GANG already viz. Imtiyaz, Arun and Aks aka fugly (fuckin' ugly). More people come into the den...Kelu is shy and manages to say a Hi and settle down in one of the corners beside his best mate - Imtiyaz..they are Nitro partners I am told. Again I am staring at Imtiyaz strumming the guitar...he is one of the best wannabes I have seen yet. He has a girlfriend too...proves my theory on Wannabes. I meet another guy - Benzene - who is partly into the Gang mostly because his room shares a wall with the den...adjusting to the loud noise and supporting with a lot of logistics most of the time. Such people are very important for The Gang. Then a personality walks in, who's discovery is the most prime among all the happenings over the three-day period. Alamin. This guy is simply amazing. He is excited with every move, he has this excitement running all around his face...all bustling with energy...so much that he stammers a bit. Every time I look at him...his face brightens up with attention. Later in the evening I find that Alamin is one of the most active members of THE GANG..and also the most confused. His fervour to arrange for/look after our logistical requirements is simply a sensation in itself. Some more people come in..I recall their names but not their faces. There is news that Hariya has entered the campus...I ask Arun to call Hariya's cell phone for the nth time and find out how long it will take him to get to the Den. By now half of Hall 5 knows who's coming. My eyes meet Alamin's eyes...without a blink he pulls out his cell phone and makes 3 calls...Confirmation: Haria is in the building. I dont know at this moment what amazes me more...Alamin-in-action or Haria's entry. This is a new generation of DGPians we are talking about. Where people across hostels plan for a night out at Sam over Gtalk or Ymsngr or whatever and still are late..where people no longer call up the LH landline..they catch hold of some girl classmate online and the whole wing probably chat with her on the same id...where dumb women are met with Franship statements over orkut and the entire hostel knows about them and hit at will...where even your pretty schoolmates are not spared.. we are talking about a new level of transparency and security and newer fetishes here.. Suddenly there is noise outside the hostel which is louder than within the Den...and THE GANG and I am ready to give Haria a Red Carpet welcome..Alamin is confused how to react to this situation..he finds me looking at him..turns away to his cell phone..Aks is disinterested as usual and sits crouched at the PC inside the den..Imitiyaz is outside with the guitar and teaching Kelu some new tune..Kelu listens..Benzene comments smilingly about Imtiyaz's inability to play..nobody listens..moves to stand in front of his door...Arun is excited too..probably contemplating to say something to mark the ocassion. A dark figure approaches with a bobbing walk with two silhouttes following. The former, Anup...latter, ConceptLevelMan Roshan and the man himself. Loud cheers...some handshakes and hugs..the party is on...the night is live. Again people get busy in settling down and rolling...introductions are made..pleasantries exchanged... > kahan tha...tera fone try kar kar ke thak gaya. >> woh mera battery low tha...light le > itna time Howrah se?? >> woh train ka jhol ho gaya..delay tha. Mera guitar laaya > haan...harmonica bhool gaya. yahan pe bhi kisi ke paas nahin hai >> mereko laga tha tu bhulega is liye main apna laaya.... > kya baat kar raha hai...sahi..sahi >> arre yaar mujhe subah waala flight lena chahiya tha.. > light le abhi..baith..Shani se mila kya? We settle down. The Gang is busy playing music to suit our tastes...to set the mood for the evening..to get it going. There is a lot of energy in the whole scene..a lot of excitement..something that I think I last felt when I was in 2nd year or something like that..unknownst to me and probably all of us in there..there is this expectation that binds us all together..but we dont know what we want to occur.. Joints are passed around and suddenly I find myself sitting in the centre in the room...sharing space with me Haria...facing me and whole lotta crowd..some faces from 2 yrs past..longer hair on most of them.. I donot have a wall to lean on...something that I prefer at such moments..and in my search I just get up and walk out the room...its too smoky i complain...Haria also moves out...a lot of eyes following us..it is getting kind of awkward now..we have our small talk..assesing the situation. I update him about my entry and happenings since..he is excited. We talk about Shani. It seems there is a package/parcel that has been left with Shani..it was sent by Jitu via one of our batchmates Abhik 2 weeks ago...we wonder what it could be. We both pray for it to be what we think it is.. We are standing in the farthest wing of Hall 5 from the mess, first floor...when I see a familiar shadow walking in the ground below, beyond the hall 5 boundary wall. It is Babloo...behind him - Shani. They were called by none other than Alamin while we were talking. This is going to be a very strange night. We wait for them...more noise..hugs..connections...Roshan leaves...we move back into the den. Someone hands over the guitar to me...and one more to Haria. They have already been tuned..something that can never be expected in our case. Haria produces the harmonica...we start our little get together. All along the watchtower - Dave Matthews rendition. More songs follow...fotographs are taken...some videos too...my first public performance with the harmonica. Shani and Babloo are right there with us..sharing the stage...Babloo rolls one of his trademark ultra long joints. 20 mins later..we all are high. More songs follow. Haria says- abey yaar Daaru hota to sahi hota. I nod.. Alamin jumps into action from one corner of the room... Cool hai, Haria...Daaru kya chahiye..main jugadta hoon.. This is Haria's first interaction with Alamin. Haan, jo bhi ho chalega...old monk..whisky. half. Fone calls are made. 30 mins later...some people have moved out..they are done with the evening. Our bottle arrives. Along with some AndaTadka. The smell of Sam food... Eat, drink..music...catching up... At 3.30 am, we call it a day. Its been 21 hours since I have slept. End of Day 1.

An Event called Convocation

Going back to college was never on the top of my to-do list...it didnt even make it to the list....in fact...not going was high on the list. 4 years of the intensive grilling was more than enough to keep me away from those gates...besides there is always that lingering thought about the uncertainty...what if you went back and there is nobody to spend sometime with. After all, the people i met there made it more memorable. We just learnt to enjoy with what the place had to offer. Sometime after a year of my passing out, the CONVOCATION was announced...it first came as a rumor that lasted for around 3 months..then I decided put up a small ploy just to meet the aspirations of the entire batch. It was tried and tested and pretty simple... The so-called BANGUs have always reacted aggressively to rumors. I had once spread a rumor that the exams were going to be postponed because some students seemed to have the paper leaked. It spread like wildfire...like it always does...and the whole of Hall 2 knew this within the next 3 hours. The Bangus were eveready to leave for home on the weekend...they came to my room to check if this was true...the exams started on Monday. I was out drinking that evening. Seeing this many were convinced that the exams were actually getting postponed. That evening saw the most no. of Bangus doing rounds of my room..the exam never got postponed and the revelation came from a drunk teenager...but the rumour worked. This time i tried to use it constructively...I called up some of my Bangu batchmates and told them that if we donot get the degree..there will be trouble when our companies want to send us to onsite..they bought it. Two of them promised to go to college and inquire. After a week, I hear that the entire Bangu community had called up the college relentlessly and 2 weeks later it was official...the CONVOCATION was announced for the 7th of November. And suddenly I get a call from AsExplainedbyaJunkie.... >>Hello.. >haan bol.. >>kya chal raha hai >abey convocation ho raha hai.. >>haan suna maine >main toh ja rahaa hoon.. >>sahi bol... >haan..ConceptLevelMan ne poora plan banaya hai..i m sticking along..woh tickets sab kar dega.. >>acchaa...main dekhta hoon...TL chhutti dega to...pata nahin.. >dekh tu...mereko bata.. ... A day later i spoke to my mom and she said...You must go...after working so hard to become an Engineer, go get the degree!! I said...ya rite.. So it was decided...and to make it all the more special...i booked 21 day peak fare budget airline airtickets to and fro. For the next 20 days...there were innumerable fone calls dissecting the possibilites awaiting us in a land that cannot be described in a blog...only certain events that have taken place on it. We didnt care about the degree...or actually we were incapable to place it in our lives...it was the reason why we went there in the first place...and why were were getting back to it again. I was happy that AsExplainedbyaJunkie would be right there with me...in this strange homecoming of sorts. I didnt know what to expect....and my heart was racing to the boil vapours of colorful dreams with hopes that they would condense into sweet crystals of memory. Fortunately we still had friends back in college...the concerns of logistical requirements were handled. And to my surprise..they were expecting most of us to turn up...and were taking initiatives in spreading the news of the announcement. My trip started with an early morning flight..and the Dum Dum airport at 5.40am looked lazy with the employees waiting to get back home from their night shifts. No change there. Change of tense.. Outside I share a vintage kolkata ambassador taxi with another software guy who has to go to Dhanbad and is rushing to get the Shatabdi..we have small talk. I am in no hurry...he realises and eventually our conversation drops of at some unknown point because i m more interested to look out the window...Morning Calcutta...school going, office going...busy..bustling Calcutta...and i was searching for my sutta and chai...but there was a shatabdi waiting... The Howrah bridge..Hindu hotel...scum and dirt...tin-thoka bus..mini buses..beedis and cigarettes burning...and with them, a big machine running...Howrah Station.. The software guy bails out...we exchange bye-byes...Dadas and boudis running by...teenagers and children tagging along..with the eternal presence of sweaters and monkey caps...and I take a breather of the tensed air of Howrah station...pacing slowly towards a part of the station that used to be the ticket counter...and it still exists in the same way...with majority of the people buying platform tickets.. And I wonder if the Railways department ever wondered about this small occurence, why are so many platform tickets sold and yet the trains are always more crowded...and the only thing that I conclude is the love for the possibilites in our country. I buy express tickets to Durgapur. The next express train is 2 hours later...I walk towards the platform anyway. Streams of people crossing at important junctures...T-sections...L-sections..X-sections..we have them all...there are a lot of people standing at strategic locations to hear the next announcement...I hear some mumble on the microphone and suddenly people start rushing towards platform 8. I rush anyway...and ask one fellow about the details...it is a train that terminates at Burdwan via chord line...I take it. Within the next 5 mins I chart my route back to college.... I sit in a window seat that is against the trains direction...a college student sitting in front of me...Its 9 am in the morning and he is going back home...I wonder what sort of college sends its students back home at 9 in the morning...at the same time I see him staring at my cell phone.. I ask him about the no. of FM channels in Kolkata these days..he says 5.. I tune into one playing Bangla rock...to my fancy..its Fossils with their latest song for Kolkata Police... He asks to see my cellphone...inspects it and is quite happy with the design..then shows me his Nokia XXXX...i nod.. The chord line is supposed to be a shorter way to get to Burdwan frm Howrah but it has this aura of super laziness with stations with absurd names..but I am happy to experience long-sighted glimpses of paddy fields after a year...a contrast to the 200m range of vision of bangalore.... There are daily passengers on this train and their concern is that the train is losing time progressively....there is a verdict...we will be delayed by 30 mins. Finally Burdwan arrives and my anxiety also rises as I near Durgapur... I enquire about the earliest train to Durgapur..it doesnt arrive in another 2 hours..I decide to take a cycle rickshaw to the bustand and onward I go...this bus must have been the most beaten one in the entire bustand or may be it felt so after a year of relatively better roadworks of Bangalore Municipal Corporation. The journey is long and it takes me 2.5 hours to reach anywhere close to Durgapur...and then suddenly I find myself within a familiar sight of GT road...I am 30 mins away...my milestone count is intialised... The bus driver agrees to stop on Gandhi More... What I felt when my feet touched this familiar ground is unexplainable.. I turn and wait for the bus to leave. In front of me, the Hanuman Mandir... 10'o clock - some signboard that was always there..below it...a Taxi stand and pot bellied taxi drivers sleeping in a small shed...its 3 pm and I m starved...somewhere along the way I promise myself that the first morsel of food will come from Shani's...it is a promise in intend to keep and so i start walking..I have AsExplainedbyaJunkie's guitar with me..and a rucksack...and this looks very classy... I cross the ever-important junction...Gandhi More and start plodding towards jhoops...Pathik passes by...some memories go by along with it.. chota gandhi more...the bus stop with no student sitting there...a small surprise...even the tea stall is closed..Buddha's jhopdi on the other side of the road...on the edge of the mini-nilgiri forest...the juice center shack...I walk on. By now I can see the campus...freshly coloured boundary wall...and a setback..!! The entry point at that corner was no more... I can see Shani's jhups...my pace increases....at a certain point I see...Jeet at the stove...some dog lingering about..Shani's cycle parked on the bamboo...and there the man was sitting..his back facing towards me..cigarette smoke emanating... There are two recognizable faces at jhoops too...Arun...and someone grizzly looking guy with a guitar..later I am told..Imtiyaz...I enter.. Arre Boss, tera naam bhadwa hai kya?? Shani turns....explodes....we hug each other....my trip is complete..anything after this goes to Bonus points. I take my preferred seat in front of the Shani's dias...only to learn that these days the cooking is mostly done by Jeet and there is a Trainee-Chhotu undergoing induction for serving..this is Shani's Hotel Management where you learn on the job. Shani only sits and drinks and sometimes does the khata work. But on seeing me...it was as if his face regained the lost lustre of mundane activities...he sprang into action -- Bol, kya banau... I ask for chai, poch and for main course...Lottery...something that only I ordered in the history of Shani's jhups. It is whatever Shani makes of it... We start talking...Arun is quick to check out the guitar in my hand..Imtiyaz looks like he's been struck by a lightening bolt..shabby, dirty..and incomprehensible... The question everybody asks - Haria kab aa raha hai? Pata nahin yaar... .. Joints are quickly rolled and I am quickly reintroduced to the new stalwarts of the jhoops arena..the electrical students are still stuck wid some shitty lecture...couple of mechs have bunked some sessional...meta..chem..civil are also there in the quorum...some electronics are off on sessionals...the IT guys are in their rooms habituated with their afternoon sleep since first year...there are no Compu guys either... As i breath that first puff of Durgapur weed...the taste swirling a million twisters all the way to my lungs and then further on condensing into my blood....i sit speechless for a few moments before my heart asks for seconds. At the same time, my poch and tea are given to me by Jeet who has managed a smile at my return...much to my delight. No words required...no words spoken. Over the next hour...i meet familiar faces and occasional stares...by now I am comfortably set into the Durgapur evening and the guitar is out...I have an audience...it couldn't ask for more!! The chai keeps running and so does the smoke...the longing for that taste has been satisfied for the moment. We all eagerly await the arrival of Haria.. (Continued ...)

It just got better..

It’s a Tuesday and my week has started…came back yesterday from Redang, Malaysia. Total hrs travelled: 10 + 10 -- to n fro The place is just awesome….simply awesome.. Goa comes a close second…ya seriously. It is beyond the regular expectations of an island….white sand…corals…fishes…snorkeling….decent food for most of the time.. And lots of alcohol… .. . Met a Swedish guy while drinking….which goes along with the perennial destiny thing that co-exists…we never meet women at such occasions..and even if there is one…we don’t move…so drop it.. Now Fredrick…the Swedish guy…was a Dylan Fan….and we spoke about His Holiness…divine supremacy over all mortals etc…. And Fredrick took out his cell-fone and started playing his favorite collection of Dylan songs -- starting with …and I remembered of one such night… When I was fairly high…among the best company ever…and there was Matt……a balding 35ish American who believed in the Bard…and we sang infinite songs that night….yes infinite…until the bitch arrived with two dumb Gujjus and spoilt our moment…brought us back to our desperate muff-seeking reality…and nothing could change it… … Coming back to Frederick and my night of drinking….well we got pretty drunk….we spoke about the boss and we shared a common view about the futility of religion…we spoke a lot of crap.. We were pretty drunk…the bartender….oh…I have to tell you about the bartender.. The Bartender -- Basu -- was half Bangladeshi - half Nepali… Basu was the best bartender ever…just like in the movies…he comes over and talks to you when your mind is at that weakest moment of self-indulgence…and Basu comes over and asks casual question about home and heart…and he tells you about his life… Now Basu is the sweetest Nepali I have ever met…he is comprehensible because of his Bangladeshi roots…but he says he more Nepali cos that’s where he spent most of his life before becoming a Bartender.. Basu is happy to meet someone who speaks Bengali but quickly adds that he doesn’t know it very well…cos he spent his infant years there..and his nepali is better..we choose English. He has been to India…worked in Goa for 3 years…worked in smaller pubs and discs….worked in a 5 star too…and he sweetly pushes in the fact that he is an international Bartender's License holder…used to know around 150 different cocktails (mock tails included)..and now 3 yrs in the island has led to his memory loss…and can recall around 80. Among the various concerns that Basu has, one of them is that the decreasing count of his cocktail memory is due to the unavailability of variety of liquor in the Muslim Country of Malaysia…Also the chances of him going to Jail if the Police find him serving to a Muslim crowd….which as I gathered is an offence…and so after each drink that he poured…he meticulously placed the bottle back inside the numerous unmarked cupboards.. Basu is a man of the hills and 3 years on an island….that too on a beach front (the rest of the island is thick un-inhabited forest) has taken its toll and he has see boredom first hand…which simply tells him to move on to someplace else. He works 2 shifts…one as a bartender in the late evenings…and after that as a guard for the night and it is occasionally that he has the luxury of a conversation with a customer. Sometimes there are busy nights….other times..no lone drinkers. Basu is a man of dreams and ambitions too….he tells me that when he is done with the island..he will move to Melbourne, Australia sometime early next year… Why Australia I ask? He gives a smile and tells me his story. It was a time when Basu was working in a bar opposite to the Australian Embassy in Kathmandu…one of the girls working in there used to frequent this pub. Basu used to walk her home everyday and they fell in love. He plans to settle down with his woman. In my conversation with Fredrick regarding arranged marriages in India…Basu was quick to add that he is a Hindu and will marry the girl of his choice…and that too of foreign origins…Basu will be remembered every time I ask for another drink. So coming back to Fredrick again….the bar closes at 12.30 am…and Basu was kind enough to let us be there till 2 am…and poured us as much as we wished for…I was running on cocktails that night…something like screwdrivers…and Fredrick was on Heineken…the goddamn viking had downed 12 cans of beer. I offered to buy Basu a drink….he refused…he was a teetotaller. We finally called it a night at around 3 am….at which point walking straight was a problem…for some reason Fredrick just went ahead and jumped into the swimming pool..i followed suit…I wondered if there was anybody who would object…but the man in the shadows was Basu….as the night guard now…and he didn’t mind. Next day morning was supposed to be another snorkeling trip..and I didn’t want to miss that…we called it a day. Snorkeling was amazing…I managed to a decently sized shark….it reminded me of Sir Steve Irwin….given a chance…the shark would have had his worst encounter with humans if he was around… Lots of corals…sun..sand…stars…fairly fine no. of good women in bikinis…beach volleyball…mp3 player…and a lot of soul. Oh…and there a couple of other Nepali;s I met working on the island…how they got there is another interesting story….and they were bored with the sea… There was this place on the island where you could see blue glowing sand in the dark…it glowed…you could touch it and pick it up….but the glow would last for a few seconds….simply amazing. …..

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