Of Harmandir Sahib, Jalianwala Bagh, Lassi, Kesar da dhaba and Juttis!

Growing up down south, Amritsar has always stood for one thing. From the images in the school textbooks, to the imposing structure in the background of every Guru Nanak calendar I must have seen at people's houses, the Golden Temple has always been intriguing, beautiful and inviting, all at once. Fortunate to have been able to pay a visit this winter, it's a sight I will never forget.

The weather in Amritsar has a certain nip in the air, from the moment you get out of the train and head towards your shelter. We made it in early in the day at about 6 am and had a couple of hours to catch, to freshen up and stuff ourselves with some out-of-the-world Parathas.

We then headed out, to visit the Golden Temple at what we thought was an hour where there would be a lesser rush. Boy, were we mistaken. Anyways, from the parking lot to the temple is probably a 500m-700m walk through streets laced rich with Amritsari Papad, punjabi juttis, tikki stalls and what not. The burst of color is overwhelming and representative of the culture and the nature of the people around. A smile everywhere, cycle-rickshaws cajoling you to hire them for a few feet you may decide not to walk, for 'panji rupiya' (five rupees). You smile and weave your way through the crowd, trying hard not to get hit by one of them.

As you approach the temple complex, be prepared to cover your head with a scarf or dupatta. You are greeted by a large white gate, with a  clock on top. Seems to be British influence, but I couldn't help but notice how several buildings in Amritsar had antique clocks on the top of the structure, be it the Railway station or the temple entrance. A little walk inside and a climb up some steps and you see the first sight of the Golden Temple. And, it left me awe-struck. More than the rich architecture surrounding or the clear water around and the faith with which people were strewn around the place, reading the 'Gurubani', what struck me most, was the peace which the place brings to you in an instant. There is no sense of urgency, commotion, chaos around the place. Everyone knows where to go, what to do and go about silently in prayer doing that, while the loudspeaker behind broadcasts around the world, the holy readings from the Guru Granth Sahib.

Photography is forbidden in the temple, but allowed in the periphery and adjoining complex. The artifical small tank of water surrounding the temple has fishes swimming with frenzy in the direction you throw some food into. Walking around the place, you see a lot of people taking a dip in the water. According to myth, a person inflicted with skin diseases took a dip in the water, saving one finger and every part of his body immersed in the water was healed. The water you'd assume may be dirty from these frequent dips, but is very well maintained and kept clean at all times.

There is a section on the side, where you can get free water in a bowl, given to you by the sevaks. It's interesting to see them clean the bowls afterward. We were told that they don't use any kind of soap or detergent, but use ash to clean the bowls instead.

Then moving on, we see on a side, the Akal Takht - the highest political and governing body of the Sikhs. It is said that the body is so powerful, that the even royalty - Maharaja Ranjit Singh accepted the punishment decreed by them for his sins, which involved seven whiplashes at the main gate of the temple. The Akal Takht building was the primary one destroyed in the Operation Bluestar seige. The destruction for some inexplicable reason, lives on even after the 28 years of the attack.

To enter the main temple, there is a bridge like construction, with people standing patiently in a queue to enter. We made it in, thanks to some contacts and were in the ground floor of the temple, in the blink of an eye. The insides are truly breathtaking. The sheer gold work on the inside, richly complement the intricate pietra dura inlay work on the outsides. There are three storeys with each housing a copy of the Guru Granth Sahib. Beautifully designed interiors with plush, red carpets end to end. It is said the Guru Granth Sahib on the top floor is the handwritten copy and is so housed on the highest platform, so that noone can set foot above it and it remains supreme. As you make your way out, after climbing down the long, winding white marble stairway, there is a point at which you can take a sip of some holy water and exit or choose to sit on the sides, while people around and busy in their reading of the holy book.

Just before you leave, there is a museum (photography forbidden again), where room after room leads you a little bit more into the lives of the community that is the Sikhs. There are paintings of atrocities committed by Shahjahan during his threats of forced conversions. Ample images of how he ordered that their children be chopped off and they be made to wear garlands of these pieces, if they refuse to convert to Islam. An artefact here and there, antique poles used to hold up the walls, some portraits of Maharaja Ranjit Singh (who ordered the temple be adorned with gold) and then you are again led to a room full of extremely graphic images of Sikh fighters who were killed brutally and how they were when they died. So you see a neck slit, a head injury, a bloody eye and I couldn't stop to see any further. The museum to me, could have actually done without this gory imagery, lest the very purpose of the visit is to acquaint you more with the tortures the community has endured and less to do with appreciating and learning more about their ways of life.

We made our way out, to the langar area. The scale of this 'langar' or community dining, is truly unique. A symbol of the openness of the Sikh community, every visitor treated alike, seated in the common area, is fed unlimited helpings of a wholesome vegetarian meal. The fare comprises of rotis, a black dal, some salad, kheer and generally some sabzi, depending on your luck. The day we visited, it was kadhi pakoda. Though, I do hear, paneer makes it to the plates too. The food is apparently cooked by a select group of people, allowed to enter the kitched with a valid ID card and tastes absolutely delectable. Sevaks organize themselves in an assembly line arrangement outside, handing out plates, spoons, a bowl for water, following some inside who take care of serving. Giant kitchen, which uses on an estimate of a news article '1,700 pounds of onions and 132 pounds of garlic, sprinkled with 330 pounds of fiery red chilies', has an 'automatic roti machine which can produce 25,000 rotis/hour' and has in recent times, got the go-ahead to migrate to a solar-powered kitchen, given the scale at which it operates.

After the Golden Temple, we sauntered out to Jalianwala Bagh, the place where hundreds of Indians were killed in the shooting ordered by General Dyer, suspecting a terror assembly, threatening the peace of the English crown. The place has an 'Amar Jyoti', the eternal flame, maintained by Indian Oil and a memorial for the victims. There are also signs all over to show where the shooting happened, the well into which many people jumped in and drowned to their death, feeling they had a chance of survival there rather than trying to run.

Later in the afternoon, we headed out to one of my favorite and very looked forward to parts of the trip - Shopping! I made sure we stopped by for some colorful, bright juttis. Back home, it is tougher finding something in a material that lasts more than 4-5 wears and also, my giant feet ensure I have little luck finding what I want. In Amritsar, there is something for everyone in a jutti shop. As expected, with a budget of two, I managed to squeeze in three in one purchase. From what our local help in Amritsar told us, a trip to the market is incomplete without Gyan Singh's Lassi. It is quite a sight indeed. Elaborate processes through a lassi making machine, finished off with a generous dollop of cream. The Dairy food market DOES thrive here!

The evening was well-spent at Wagah, to end the day with some interesting fare from Kesar da Dhaba. Finding our way down the small winding 'gallis' of the market in Amritsar, a short 'panji rupaya' ride down the alley, through store after store dishing out fresh, hot, delicious mouth-watering gulab jamuns in giant 'kadais', it is a foodie's delight. I of course gave in and dug into some melt-in-mouth jamuns, as I stood by the road watching how the parcelling section at Kesar, threw their half-done ingredients together, in almost mechanical precision, as hordes of people packed some wonderful dinner. The place is absolute value for money, will definitely make you smile as much, with every bite as it will when you open your wallet to pay the bill!

There it was. A day filled with a visit to a beautiful temple, an Indian freedom movement memorial, the Indian border, some shopping and lots of good food! A day well-spent in Amritsar.

Wah Wagah!

In our growing years, we learnt extensively about India's struggle for independence the Indo-Pak tension ensuing, the LoC, the breaches, the well-guarded borders. But seeing, is believing. Wagah Border is one experience you will find no place else. The sheer excitement in the chill November air, the sun setting against the dust kicked up by charged up guards during their rehearsed march, the screams, the national colors, it's a place you forget from which state you came and remember the only fact uniting you with everyone on this side of the gate, the Indian in you.

The gate shut, to be opened with aplomb at sunset

Located about an hour's drive away from Amritsar, at Attari, is where the only road border crossing between Pakistan and India is based. Wagah itself is a village, through which the partition line dividing two nations was drawn in 1947. It is more known for the elaborate pre-sunset daily ceremony at the border, where the gate opens for a couple of minutes, with both sides putting up quite a show.

Maddening excitement at the Indian section

The drive to Wagah, comes to an end with gates guarded with heavy security, people turned out in the tricolor, plastic flags in their hands, screaming, some excited with their cameras all ready to snap up what they might be lucky to see. It is best to try to arrange a VIP entry from any contact one may have, which makes getting in a lot easier. Else, there is much heavier checking and of course a lot of furlongs extra, to tread. We made it in through the VIP entry, though even that well attested letter was checked by atleast four different sets of personnel at various points. No bags allowed inside, though a money purse and a camera are allowed. After the checking, we were made to sit at pre-designated seats flanking the main gate of the ceremony.

Style statement 

One look around and you just can't help but feel the excitement in the air. Across the gate at the Pakistan section, white and green, their flag flying high, the half moon perched up and a little beyond, the guards in black pathani suits. The Pakistani section was divided into two, for men and women and seemed to be less filled as compared to ours. We turned out as though it were a India-Pak match. The normal stalls were filled in minutes and the speakers blared patriotic music, much to peoples' delight, who went mad with frenzy, waving the tricolor and joining in. While waiting, a lot of us walked up to the main security at the gate and requested a click. He agreed with much ease, as it seemed to be a request he had been hearing every day.

The main guard at the gate

Minutes into the ceremony, the guards in pairs, walk up to the border, with much aplomb, salute their peers and take their position on the sides. The same drill is followed on the other side. The various marches are interspersed with the microphone beaming Bharat Mata ki Jai and Vande Mataram on ours, while Pakistan Zindabad and Jeeve Jeeve Pakistan on their side. The gate is then pushed open, the rope is drawn aside and the guards face each other with the most stern look for a few seconds, after which the flags are crossed and hoisted. It is quite a sight to watch, two flags of nations at constant war, hoisted at the same point by men separated by a few inches.

The gates are then shut and people disperse. The VIP exit path takes you across through a corner, a section, where the Pakistani VIPs also must walk past and for those few seconds, you can't help but wonder, how you are standing at an arm's distance from a neighboring country. A series of waves and smiles exchanged across that one single rope and you are politely asked to keep moving by the security forces.

The walk back then begins to resemble a typical Indian mela, with food stalls, people running helter skelter. As you reach the exit, you see how every available guard is approaced by kids and is posing away for photos. Makes you for a moment realise, how human they too are and how tolerant they must be, to be a camera's muse every single evening.

Less than an hour of a ceremony, but absolute celebration in every step. A sight not to be missed.

Where are we heading?

As our communication networks are growing, our worlds are shrinking and possibly so are our patience levels. We just don't know how to wait for anything anymore and inevitably, this has got to be crawling its way into our personal lives as well.


So let's see. When was the last time I 'BOUGHT' a music cd or watched a video on television and tried hard to find out when the music release was, make a beeline to the local music store and pay for that cd, bring it home and plug it in? I do not remember. All I remember now, is free music downloads the day the music releases and I have not paid a dime since at least five years. There used to be some pleasures attached to buying music, borrowing friends' cds, making a personal playlist for a loved one, painstakingly cleaning the cd case and treasuring it. Neither have I used a cd nor bought one in a really long time. Sometimes, I do pick up my case to clean the dust off it and I find someone's gift, a note on top and I still do smile, but this is a pleasure the generation after me will not ever know of.


Then, in the past years, I find myself often shopping and even as ludicrous as it sounds 'window-shopping' on my computer. When I know someone's birthday is coming up, or I need some stationery, or some books, I instinctively know I need to look up flipkart.com or ebay. I do not remember having bought a book, written on the first page inside and giving it to someone in a long long time. The convenience scares me. There used to be a time I used to marvel at jokes I heard on sitcoms about Americans collecting coupons for discounts and going shopping on those days to those places, however far off. I'm heading there, except now I know of promo codes and dicount codes to get the best deals on sites, at a mouse-click's distance. And I'm recommending them out there like a pro. Apparel, footwear even, wherein it would be absolutely impossible to buy a pair without slipping it on, is now a click away and maybe that's good, maybe bad. It's just a whole lot different from what shopping used to mean to me when I was younger.


Social Networking. Yes, I do get to connect with a lot of old friends. I get to see what they're doing in their lives. But I find myself talking less and less to people. It's like I know many of them, but I don't know more about them anymore. We're less connected and a lot more wired nowadays I suppose. When I look at their lives, their updates, their photos, I feel good that I'm well informed, but it beats me if they ever intended that information for me. I mean, do you remember how it felt to wait for your best friend's birthday snaps to get processed and wait to get to school the next day and look at them over the snack break. But I doubt, my children will ever have those little pleasures. They'd perhaps have the pictures uploaded on their pages before they got home and a million likes to go AND it might not even be my smart phone they've used, but their own funky ones.


Our language! I cringe at the sight of words like lv,lf.frndzz,v,wt4me. Where did our English just vanish and what are we putting on our resumes if we can't spell words like friends, life, wait normally on a keyboard we can conveniently chat at speeds stenos boast of. We've created a new language and heavens alone save the examinations such people's children will take and the scores they will make.


I say it permeates our day to day lives in tangible ways as above but in a lot of unseen, intangible ways as well. I feel we've become more impatient because almost everything in life has become convenient nowadays. Yes, we have more time to do a lot of other things, but what are we really heading towards? A life of isolation where we all have our computers and will get strokes if the internet is down for a bit? We send someone a message and we expect a reply that very moment, because we're sure he got it. There's no way in this age or day, my message or email wouldn't be delivered. If he didn't reply, he didn't see it. Paranoia. How can he be ignoring me? How can he not respond? 


Rewind to not so many, but maybe 10 years ago. You were lucky if you had an internet connection with a PC and even luckier if it worked. But do you remember noting down email addresses of people carefully, typing out long emails to them and not receiving replies for hours, days? It seemed alright. They'd look at it when they could and reply and you'd look at it when you could make a connection. And that worked. 


When you sent someone an SMS, you checked the delivery report to see if it said 'Pending' or 'Delivered', check the time of delivery and then mentally sigh with relief because your message made it. Today, you know that you've sent it, he's received it. Even if he's on a call, he got it. And that makes us so impatient because we know it's possible. It's possible to acknowledge receipt, to respond, fight, solve, argue all in an instant. And that's what's going wrong. 


We've become more sensitive than our touch-screens, our brains have begun to work faster than our processors for sometimes the very wrong reasons. We've become more impatient in conversation, in our relationships, in our marriages and we've forgotten how to give somebody that space they truly deserve. To think, to ponder, to gather their thoughts and react. We're forcing the quieter ones to crawl deeper into their shells, the sober ones to find outlets for madness and the already loud ones to cause cacophony. We are heading towards a louder, more clamorous tomorrow, very different from the yesterday we lived  and if we play it wrong, a tomorrow distinctly unhappier than the one we saw yesterday. 

Introverted? Extroverted? Somewhere in the middle?

Can't help but think about which one I am. Introverted or extroverted.

So, I came across two links. One video on the The Power of introverts - Susan Cain and one article in the Times of India - Agony of introverts in a loud nation (By Anand Soondas - 24 June 2012) Both speak about how 30% of the world is introverted. In other words, one out of three people are introverted. So, what about the other two? Are they these loud, clammering extroverted people? Is one of them somewhere in the middle?

I talk a lot and incessantly at that, am loud, full of energy and have a million thoughts, sometimes irrelevant and unconnected to each other in my mind, several straying out in unconnected lines of speech at times, but does that mean I am extroverted? I am married to a man who hates talking, even making restaurant bookings, talking to pharmacists, to the landlord, the house-help; Not that he cannot, he doesn't like to unless forced to. So, is talking less introverted-ness? And just because I do without much trouble, does that make me an extrovert?

I can imagine several people out there who are like me and can talk, but would be extremely out of place and not so at ease when in a room full of twenty-five people you don't know. We are nervous before interviews, skeptical of entering a new bar and not looking cool while placing an order, can get caught off guard by a very well-spoken doctor, prefer to send an email to the facilities guys in the office to fix the printer and can just be the same old shy people we imagine introverts to be. But we can also be the people who start the conversation on a group chat, who make plans to watch movies with friends, pick up the phone and call our support groups, ensure to crack that joke and make asses out of ourselves just to make that friend feel better, can still make presentations to clients with practiced ease.

What's different then? I would imagine the fact that we are completely comfortable in our very own small circles. We are extroverted to our circle of friends. There is this select group of people who see the true and real madness in us and to them we are the most outgoing, loud people they know. But to the people we travel with in the bus, the people who see us alone in cafetarias, the people who see us buy groceries alone and do our laundry by ourselves, we are perhaps quiet and introverted.

We're stuck in between and personally, it's not a bad place to be. It's nice to have my own shell, my own boundaries and to make it better, not be alone within. To know how far to be able to go to peel off the guarded self of my personality and yet know that I'll be still not be the obvious and predictable person to the world.

Point being, it makes me now want to look around for research on a new breed called ambiverts and that's the new word, I'll remember to use in the 'Describe Yourself' section on a form the next time.

Of rubber, concrete, greenery & us - Of Kerala

Come Summer and it's already hard dealing with the fact that you don't get summer vacations like you used to back in school. What makes it worse is names of a million places being flung around your head, when you're amongst people, making you wonder how bad sitting at home in summer actually is.

Anyways, battling all of these absolutely baseless noisy thoughts, we (I!) decided that it was time, we threw in some bags and headed out to some place new. After a lot of deliberation on where to go, how's the weather, how far, who'll drive and after bumping off a lot of candidates (Chikmagalur, Pondicherry, Kodaikanal, Ooty, Coonoor, etc), we seemed to be left with Wayanad. So basically, I really can't remember why we picked Wayanad over other places, but we did and that's where we were to be in, come noon of the last sunday of April, aiming to make complete use of the Labour day weekend.

We were booked in with Banasura Island resort (after one of my Malayali friends insisted that the Banasura property at Thrissur was really good and Wayanad might not be completely off). At Rs.12,000 for a couple for a 2N3D stay, including meals, a boat trip and a head massage, it seemed like a little steep right from the start but maybe worth a shot, anyways.

Saturday night, the operations manager at the resort gave us a call to suggest we leave early since it would be am 8 hr journey. For a distance of about 330 km to the resort, considering we even fought on the way over either of our reckless driving, 8 hours seemed a little too much. However, we anyway were to leave @ 6 am and we consensually decided that was the earliest we could do.

And we're off!

6:15 am, 20 degrees outside in Bangalore, we were off.

Fairly straight forward route we had with us. Bangalore to Mysore via Bidadi, Kengeri, Ramnagaram, Channapatna and Maddur ====> Nanjangud =====> Gundlupet =====> Sultan Batheri =====> Kalpetta ====> Padinjarathera ====> Banasura Sagar Dam =====> Banasura Island Resort

We took the Electronic City route out to the NICE road towards Mysore. Not the best decision  maybe, since we ended up paying an extra toll while we could have taken Bannerghatta Road and hit the NICE road. Well, for next time!

Extremely good roads, up to Bidadi, where on for a couple of kilometers, the roads were a little crowded with village transportation hogging the tar. We stopped just ahead of Maddur, not at the McDonalds, Barista, KFC or the CCDs we saw on the way but at Adigas. A little turn onto the other side of the highway, 25 minutes later and dosas and puris down, we were back on track.

And that's all the spotting I did!

Driving through Mysore was fairly easy with signboards all through, guiding you easily till Nanjangud, where on there is a distinct, well-marked right turn to Sultan Batheri. The roads here on seem to be slightly less convenient to drive on and here's where you start losing speed.

Soon, we were entering the forest area and this was one drive I looked forward to hoping hard to see some elephants, deer, some tryst with wildlife. I was lucky enough to only however spot monkeys and a lone crow. Peak of noon is not the best time to hope to get lucky animal-spotting.

By around 12:00 we were in Batheri and headed towards Kalpetta and then Padinjarathera. Kalpetta could probably be one place it would be better to stop and ask someone for the turn to Padinjarathera, since there wasn't really any board to guide anyone. Once you get to Padinjarathera, there is a steep left turn leading you on to the dam and then to the hotel. The basic problem with the roads starts from about 2km after you cross the dam. There isn't really a road, more so of a path made by several vehicles having passed on it. Mud roads are fine to drive on, the ones with unevenly sized, pointed, sharp jelly stones is what makes you wonder if it's fine to subject your car to that kind of torture. The last 4 km or so makes you drive at a speed of 2-5kmh. As you drive up to the resort, you still don't see the point of this miserable last stretch of a drive till you reach the top. The view, to be absolutely honest is beautiful. The lake with the small islands on one end and the Banasura hill on the other, constantly peak-covered with clouds is a sight to remember. Peek at the watch and it is 2:15 pm - in line with what the manager told us!

The view of Banasura Hill from our room

The aftternoon wasn't much except for the long snooze we had post the Kerala style cooked sumptous (Roti, Dal. Curry, Rice, Sambhar, Pulao, Beans poriyal, Curds, some pepper chicken for my husband, papads and some kheer). We woke up to some hot chai and pakodas served up in our room, which happened to have a nice balcony overlooking the lake and the hill. Special mention to the rooms - which were extremely strictly in line (maybe too much!) with the wilderness friendly, minimalistic interiors concept. Exactly one tube light, one fan and no bulb, in a room with a hard bed, clay tiles and bugs walking on walls.

The Reception and the Naaluketu rooms

Needless to say, after the chai had been drunk and the sun had begun to set it was time to shut the door and rush inside. We then took a walk around the resort and chanced upon the Manager - Binod who we liberally chatted up about the place, the property, the people, etc. Turns out there are about 15 rooms, no televisions except in two rooms, limited staff and the miserable state of roads can be attributed to the fact that there is an NOC which has not been cleared for the construction of the roads. Anyway, long story short, after the extensive gyan about nothing, we began to look forward to dinner which was supposed to be South Indian and Chinese and turned out to be South Indian and something resembling Gobi Manchurian, only by sight. Tired souls have few choices and we decided to eat whatever we could and head up to the room and crash.

The view from the boat ride

Day 2 was to be our sightseeing day. Post breakfast - A surprising mix of cornflakes, toast, poori sagu, puttu and some omelettes, we headed down the treacherous road to the dam. A Rs.15 entry fee (instead of the Rs.80 Jeep ride) to reach the top of the dam and a short walk through the park, we made it to the boating ticket counter. At Rs.450, a little steep for a 15 minute ride, the speed boat promised to take us around the 32 islands in the lake, with a view of the hills and at some point, our resort. After about 30 minutes of waiting (since there was only one boat operational), we were off on our short swift ride. A few good clicks and a lot of wind in our hair later, we made our way back to the park where you seemed to find more adults than children on swings. Needless to say, I decided to join the party and go back to memory land on the swing myself. Not much to see besides all of this, after which we headed back down to the car and made our way out to MeenMutty Waterfalls.

The rocks on the path up to MeenMutty

On the way to the resort but a 3 km detour and we were at the gate of MeenMutty waterfall. A little struggle to park and Rs.20 later we were on the path leading up to the falls. Must say, the soft trek (the way it started off), gave way to a pretty stony, difficult looking path to the falls. Poor footwear and you can be sure to slip off a rock or land into a bunch of thorny bushes on the sides. Few (very few!) clicks later, we were on our way back and to my complete amazement, I saw a bunch of kids and a few teenagers walking to the falls barefoot! Either they do this real often or they have a pretty rude shock in store!

The terribly stony road up

We headed back to resort after I had a little unfortunate bump on the back of my car and managed to push the mud guard all the way in till my husband realised it was scraping off the tyres and fixed it, on the way. We reached in time for lunch, a la carte (no menu though!), versus yesterday's buffet, but the fare remained the same. Just more of it and in many more bowls! Another nap later, we were all set to go for our complimentary massage - Head & Shoulder only. Took about 15-20 minutes and the masseuse seemed to forget that there was a complimentary shower post the massage. Not interested in wasting our energy trying to explain, we had our respective massages and headed back to the room for our showers and waited for our chai and pakodas, which made their way to our room by about 6.

As night began to fall, we packed a little bit of whatever we could and decided to watch a movie on the laptop (Thank heavens for his thinking!). Half of ZNMD later, it was time for dinner and we were downstairs. Similar fare, a different sabzi here and there and some fresh halwa later, it was snooze time again for a long day of driving and roads.

The Wayanad Museum

We were thinking of doing a little sightseeing on the way back. And what was do-able without some painful detours was the Wayanad Heritage Museum and possibly Edakkal Caves. The caves are known to have some beautiful interior stone pictorial writings from the times of 5000 BC. However, there is a 2 km upward trek to reach the caves and I wasn't too up for it. We were to find the deviation to the caves a little before Sultan Batheri and there was a big board to the right with the way to the caves alongwith "Holiday - Mondays and 1st May". So yes, good decision not to have driven down there yesterday and today being 1st May, wasn't going to be possible anyway either.

Vivek with some stone artefacts

A little ahead and we found the deviation on the right to the Wayanad Heritage Museum. Passing by Phantom Rock on the way, we reached Amabalavayal. The Museum has some interesting collections of Stone artefacts apparently indicating some connection to the Indus Valley Civilisation and also maybe going to show how diffusion of their culture happened down south as well. Fairly decent collection for about Rs.20 per head in entry and Rs.25 for the camera. On the way back, we decided to stop at some handicraft store and buy something as a keepsake. There are pretty interesting bamboo and rosewood collectibles and we settled on a small elephant made of rosewood, to store in our shelves and be reminded of the place. Rs.200 (steep), but no bargain, considering we weren't able to communicate a price to the seller.

That done, we were on our way to Mysore, where I suggested we have lunch at this old quaint restaurant Dasprakash. Terrible idea, considering the fact that we were in Mysore on May Day in the peak of noon, searching for the place. Post the lunch, not really worth the effort, I found myself with a really snappy husband driving around Mysore without knowing which way to head to Bangalore and just find the goddamn highway! 25 minutes and a lot of Kannada here and there later, we were on our way out. Terrible amount of traffic considering the public holiday and we got off at Bannerghatta Road post the lovely NICE road stretch by about 7, but took an hour to get home in Koramangala. Long drive, would have been great except the getting lost in Mysore and wasting time at the hotel part. McDonalds would have been a better option I suppose!

All in all, a good break. Except, 700 km and about 38 litres of petrol and 2 days later, I can't help but wonder if it might have made more sense to stay at a place a little more closer to towns like Kalpetta or Sultan Batheri and maybe driven around to more places in Wayanad. Or was it better to find this little place up the hills and relax. If it were a trip intended to sightsee, I'd probably say option 2, but to rejuvenate and relax, the first one would work pretty okay, I'd suppose. 

Till the next trip, the next time we hit the road, the next adventure awaits...

Vicky Donor..Of Dilli, sperm donation and Annu Kapoor!

Rarely comes by a movie with oodles of humour and a subtle message. Same goes for Vicky Donor. Something that starts with a WHO statement on sperm donors, stating that several families are childless due to lack of sperm donors and ends with a couple walking off from an orphanage with an adopted child, is a very discreet way of promoting the idea of adoption, of respectful sperm donation.

And everything in between (Save parts of the second half) are absolutely hilarious, stuffed with stereotypes and jibes at two ethnicities.

Pretty straight forward plot. Vicky Arora (Ayushmaan), the true blue Punjabi Delhi boy seems to attract a lot of unwarranted attention from Annu Kapoor (The owner of an Infertility clinic and sperm bank), who believes Vicky has quality sperm and must donate to save the world (and the business).Vicky resists but relents and once the money starts coming in, becomes quite a regular. Family doesn't know, girlfriend/wife doesn't know and when the truth comes out, all emotional hell breaks loose. All's well in the end however as Annu Kapoor finds out, takes blame and tries to fix all the damage he's caused in his own queer way.

The high point of the movie for me, is in the treatment of the subject of sperm donation. There is absolutely no hesitation in showing how people actually react to the idea. How dates can end up with one tight slap, how wives can just pack up and leave, how mothers think it's a dirty profession and how the donor himself might have reacted when the idea is first thrown at him. Select soft serious ideas such as the legality of the issue, the treatment of the money and the gifts is all carefully wrapped and comically delivered to ensure you understand and remember the message but laugh your heart out. You can't really ever forget Annu Kapoor's obsession with sperm and how every conversation and every sentence has to have a connection to it, his gesture to indicate sperm movement and the hallmark dialogues such as "Eh kaam legal hai, aaj se hi nahi.. Mahabharat ki time se..jananiyon ke jaab baache nai hote the toh rishi muniyon ko bulwa lete the.. baba aulad nai hai... babe ne ki kitta, tathastu kitta....... Hogiya"..Or even "Vadiya vadiya kha te vadiya vadiya phen, load na le asar pade ga sperm pe.."

You almost can't help but sympathise with Annu Kapoor at some point for how he diligently chases Vicky, acting as part-time chauffer, part-time bill payer at restaurant, to convince him to donate sperm.

Annu Kapoor has got to be the most impressive character in the movie, with his seemingly natural comic action in the movie, definitely closely followed by Dolly and Beeji, Vicky's mum and grandmom. The two women come across as typical endearing Punjabi women who will fight over 'Dolly's attache' and Vicky's lack of seriousness, but will bond over their late night regular bar setups agreeing on one thing that Punjabis are the world's best race.

All in all, a must watch, purely for the fun you can have at the cost of blatantly laughing at Punjabi and Bengali stereotypes and the side of Delhi you get to see. Parts of the second half dragging making you believe it's a hindi movie after all, but definitely one you mustn't miss.