Is it a Hotel? Is it a mall? No, its a Hospital!

Recently, I had the slight misfortune of stepping into a hospital for some tests for the Mister. While hospitals in general continue to freak me out reminding me ever so vividly of my month long stint when I was 12 and subsequent visits which have in general been more than worrisome, this time round there were more thoughts than I had expected. How absolutely bizarrely commercial have hospitals become!

Manipal Hospital is among the top hospitals in the city and agreed that it is run by a large Business group but they have taken high-tech and modern a slight notch higher. To start with, at the entrance, there are categories of parking – including a valet parking service. If you find that ludicrous and decide to self park, you find yourself driving towards the parking boom barrier, a self-parking ticket issuing kiosk and fancy rates of course. I did this exact same thing yesterday at the neighborhood mall and found it very bizarre. Gone are the days of that creepy but ever smiling watchman who always managed to find you a spot to park. Once the biggest bane of city life has been taken care of, you step out only to be greeted by a buggy-to take you till the main. Reminiscent of large resorts with such amenities? While it is great for patients, but people make/cut lines for this and it’s a horrible experience to have to jostle for a seat if you were tempted to take the buggy. 

Once you reach, you follow a bunch of smart direction displays and reach in this case the lab, where you need to get the tests done. If you haven’t already registered, you will be asked to pay a deposit and get a smart card to use at the hospital. It feels so much like a loyalty card! We having been here before had a card each to flash, thankfully (!). The scribbly doctor prescription is read and typed into the keyboard by a lady in a wisp saree neatly pinned almost hospitality manager kinds, in the colors of the logo of the hospital. Everyone looks the same, by the way – Same clothes, same hairdo, same half-hearted smile. She continues typing without raising her head. Her screen is replicated on a fancy tablet that you can see on the other side. I was almost tempted to ask for a corner seat because it reminded me of buying movie tickets at the theatre! Once the bill is created, you are sent to the cash counter where you flash your smart card and the other magical card from your wallet which lets you buy stuff instead of cash. Then, you finally saunter down to the sample collection room where expectedly, on a Saturday afternoon as is with any mall or restaurant, there is a huge line of waiting aspirants. You greet the smiling lady at the entrance, give her the bill and then are told that it will be 10-15 minutes to wait. You then scramble around for a place to sit. She calls out name after name and you watch with hopeful eyes and attentive ears for your turn. Several minutes later, you are asked to enter since your “table is ready”. 

After your tests, you walk out and enquire about the reports – And surprise, surprise. They say you can see them online by going to a url printed on fancy posters with instructions on how. You smile, but walk out, to find the buggy to take you back to the Parking. As I reached the payment counter and handed my parking ticket for them to scan and tell me my extravagant Rs. 50 charge for 2 hours of parking, I drove out feeling more confused than ever.

Maybe, I'm ageing but there is no reassurance and concern in the receptionists' eyes anymore. The pathologist doesn't smile and say that this prick will only be a second and it won't hurt. The watchmen and guards are very law-abiding but less personal. Soon, there will be shopping complexes with smart checkout counters and pop-up shopping stalls in the receptions. But no one will recognize us for a next visit. We’re very well served, maybe even healed but we will we soon be served by robots. Will the hospital become more of hospitality than healing?! 

The Time Traveler's Father..

I recently read The Time Traveler's Wife and its one of those books that comes along every few years, where the story stays with you long after you've turned the back cover and put it away. How exciting - How absolutely bloody exhilarating to imagine if it were true. If one could keep going back in time to re-live memories, to re-look at what happened, to be happy again, be joyful again - I couldn't stop wondering, what if I could go back to the happiest time of my life. What if!? I asked Vivek too, what he would do if he could time travel, he gave me the silliest answer but then asked me back and without a blink, I knew if I could, I'd go back to any point in the first twelve years of my life. I'd go back to the time my dad was still around, flesh and blood, carrying me around as a baby, singing me lullabies to sleep; taking me to his board-meetings and letting me sit in the corner if I promised to keep quiet and play with my coloring book; coming late to pick me up from school every day but melting on the one day I cried and said I can't wait like this every day; my first fracture and waking up with a hardened chiclet in my mouth but sleeping safely in his arms (I still remember the dried tear on his face that day); how I slept on his arm every day, even when it was swollen and his worry was not the pain but how it would hurt my head. Its endless - the memories, the moments. What seem like little milestones and little underlines and highlights in the book of life today, were back then as trivial and as natural as can be. I wish I could go back to any time in that part of my life and I wish I could hold you once again.

But even if I can't, there's so much I want to tell you, Papa.

I'm so much like you today. If you were around, I'm sure you'd beam with the pride because even if I'm not perfect, I'm quite a perfect reflection of yourself. It is not rare for people to classify my skin type as wheatish, sometimes even dark, but they have no idea I wear this shade with pride, for this was exactly how you were. I never got Mumma's white Sindhi color and you'll agree she always looked like the better one when the three of us went out! Today, everyone says I look like Mumma, but she and I both know who I've taken after. I silently smile from within every time when someone says I have beautiful hazel eyes, because I get that from you. I have your height, your gummy toothy laugh, huge feet which bring me a lot of grief when I go buy shoes - But still, It is so much of you that it becomes almost impossible to hate these imperfect pieces of me. Forget the looks, there's so much of how I am and how I behave which is how you used to be. I have your horrible temper, your utter lack of patience and just enough regard for schedules that I never reach some place early but always on time. I hate mornings, love the sunsets and absolutely love packing and traveling and seeing new places every now and then like you made sure we did every few months. I'm still a sucker for sweet pongal, Rasam Rice and I still haven't eaten Laddoos like you always made for Ganesh Chaturthi yourself. I love my wheels and I love speed and just the other day I found myself telling someone who said I'm rash that I will accelerate just as long as I know I can control my car. You always said the same thing. The, déjà vus from decades ago don’t end!

I want to tell you that I fight less with Mumma, though we've fought enough for a lifetime after you left. She loves me too and I know that now though I always thought she hated me and you were all I had. I want you to know that after you left, I had a void in my life where I never thought anyone would love me unconditionally, with all my flaws and take care of me like you used to. I fell in love with someone who comes very close though and takes care of me every day - I think at times this is God's way of giving back slowly what he took away a long long time ago.

You know, Just after you left, everyone's behavior changed along with little things. My PTA meetings became very short; Mrs.Jacob who you wrote a stinker to in my diary went from being always angry with me to now being always sympathetic. There was so much pity in everyone's eyes for so long - exactly the stuff you and I both hate, being an object of someone's sympathy. People were extra nice for a while, they tried to be more inclusive, more loving, brought more gifts, tried to visit more often - But it was short-lived. Slowly, everyone went back to living their own lives and we went back to our own even smaller lives. We weren't a nuclear family anymore, we had suddenly been downgraded to a smaller term which wasn't even invented back then. Mumma and I always got a table for four when we wanted a table in the family section and always had to politely tell the waiters that yes, its just the two of us and yes, it is still a family. Nevertheless, school went well - Despite all my crying about Maths, I didn't drop it and continued to choose it till I could and I did quite well, you'd have been happy! I did everything I promised you I would - It is still an interesting story now for anyone who asks how did you know you wanted to be doing what you're doing or why did you do your MBA? I knew from when I was 8 years old, I wanted to be like you. I wanted to be wonderful at business, earn, learn, spend my day productively to be able to be self-sufficient and at times self-indulgent. I didn't become an entrepreneur like I kept telling you though. But I have hope, I might just.

After 18 long years today, the memory of that day is still so fresh. I can almost smell the smoke from the tar, almost see the mangled steel, almost hear the screams around because our doors were stuck and people around couldn’t pull us out of the crash. I'm sorry I asked to spend Christmas when we were on holiday, I'm sorry we didn't return on the 25th like we had always planned. Because then the 26th of December would have been just another day on my calendar. I would spend many 26th Decembers getting over Christmas hangovers like everyone else, I might have bought a small tree at some point in my life, gone on vacation on this day - but I somehow can't. I can't get myself to let this day pass without thinking over and over about how I should've been less greedy for one more day because part of me thinks I ruined every day to come. I hate that I wasn't awake that time so I could tell  you to brake or I wish I could do something, anything at all to stop this from having happened. I hate your last act of selflessness telling me to give up my front seat for the first time ever, because the sun was beating down upon us. It’s great having a eidetic memory to remember dates for History or remember maps for Geography, but it is a curse to remember how everything looked that day or to remember how my uncle's phone number looked on the phone diary because the police needed an emergency contact number to call; I hate that I remember how we shopped for that extra day of holiday in Cochin, how the doctors had to cut through those brand new maroon shorts to dress my wounds. Everything is alive, everything is fresh, everything hurts. Even today.

I went years being a quiet child, rarely bullied because I was somehow the tallest or biggest in class and the bullies wanted my notes so quid pro quo, they never troubled me. I went years being a confused, troubled teenager because it was very hard to cope with the fact that the one person who "takes care of everything" in others' lives wasn't around. From the big things such as going out to earn to the smallest things - fixing the bulbs, cleaning the shower heads, tightening screws on the cooker, oiling the door locks, peeling the mangoes patiently - We were by ourselves suddenly and it was awful to be helpless and clueless but also alone at the same time. But with time, something started changing. I found it easier to do these things - It was not natural at first, but it wasn't a mountain to climb either. It also became easy to make decisions and at times to handle grief. You know once someone tried to break into our house when we were just the two of us, I remember how I woke up and without a trace of fear called the police and spoke to them when the sirens came blaring. I went out at 2 am and showed them where he came from and where he must've escaped. All worry and fear apart, I felt grown up suddenly and I have absolutely no idea where the strength came from. I think it came from you.

So today, when I look back at perhaps how half my life has shaped up, I've learnt that it is always important to tell people how much you love them. If I could only go back to the last time we hugged that morning and how you gave me your gulab jamun at breakfast, I would hold on for a bit longer and tell you how much I love you. The twelve year old me would tell you how important you are to me, how much it means to me when you come home before bedtime so that I can sit and talk to you. I'd tell you how wonderful you are, because you gave me so much love in twelve years that I'd treasure it for a lifetime. I'd tell you that I agree I'm spoilt today, but I'll change tomorrow even though you won't be around to see it. I'd tell you that someday I would realize that people may adore and be extremely kind to a child like me but will always truly love only their own - I'd come to realize that blood runs thicker than water, that laws don't make parental relationships, blood does. I’d tell you that you might not be there to find me a husband (because its already one of your biggest worries even though I’m just 12 that someday I’ll have to leave you!) but I will end up getting lucky in love and will be blissfully married. I'd tell you that I'm never going to look at the sky and stars and pretend you're one of them like the movies try to make you believe, because one day I would come to understand that there is no better way you are alive than you are in me. When I will look at the mirror when I'm 30, I'll look at my flaws and zits and maybe I'll look at a lot of extra grams but when I look past that, I'll be thankful that till the end of my forever, I'll continue to see a bit of you every day and there's no greater gift than that to keep you alive for me.

Table for one, please..

During a recent argument with my other half (well, who's to say better, or bitter - why butter and why bother?), I screamed out in Eureka-ish conclusion and discovery that "If you were an only child, you'd know what I'm saying." So, it got me wondering, in a slight Carrie-Bradshaw, but a slightly lesser SATC way, whether being an only child actually matters. Besides sunsigns, numerology and all other soft sciences known to man, does it change the way we turn out, if we had someone to fight over the last piece of pizza when we were five. 

Game of Thrones almost makes you believe that it is  impossible to not have siblings - No, I'm not talking about Cersei's dysfunctional relationship with her brother but think about it. Even Drogon has Viserion and Rhaegal for company. Even the wolves were 6 in a pack, Nymeria also must've had to fight off Lady for that last piece of meat. Ah, happy times at Winterfell (saving any further GOT driven digressions  for another post).

The biggest myth I've heard about only children is that they're spoilt. Most of my growing up life, if someone asked me what my brother or sister did and I told them I'm the only child, the adults gave me looks of derision (instantly concluding I must be a brat) and the kids gave me looks of awe (I might have caught a couple of them actually say "How lucky"!). I say it is a myth because some of my closest friends are the only children in their immediate families and their characteristics range from slightly delusional & quirky, to very sorted, to extremely kind and caring (The Mother Teresas of friends) and to borderline mafia-esque. It is true. You'd think you can spot an only child as the one who finds it hard to share food, or the grumpy one who cannot understand why the group wants to have Indian when he wants to order pizza. But you can't. Sometimes, the one in the group patiently taking a vote or the one who buys a bag of chips but passes it around the table to finally only munch on two, is also an only child. So, the whole garbage about single children being selfish is out of the window - some are nice, period. So, is the writer of this piece.

If you look at history and news, it is interesting to notice some famous only children and others. Barack Obama has no own siblings, while Donald Trump has enough to warrant a bulk booking of tickets in some places. Hollywood is filled with only child geniuses - Our favorite almost-never-won-an-Oscar Leonardo Di Caprio is an only child, James Bond and Harry Potter both in real life ask for a table for one at many restaurants. I'm not saying it’s a trend, but hey everyone needs evidence thrown in to support an inconclusive thought like the point of this piece.

One of the first pros that pop into my head is the fact that when you grow up with just your parents for family, you bond much easier with people older than you. I spent more time with my aunts than my cousins (also because of the huge age gap between my mum and her sisters, I also refer to some of my cousins as aunts!). It was always easy to go up to an Aunt and talk if I had to and if my mum introduced me to a friend of hers or an older person, I wasn't awkward and shy praying for the earth to swallow me  up; I was actually able to exchange pleasantries and make an entry in their books as a very well-behaved child. This comfort with adults actually helps when you turn into an actual adult. When you need to make conversation with the cashier at the bank, when you need to discuss insurance with an agent, when you need to buy groceries and vegetables, there's sometimes just less stress about the getting on with it.

Then, as children, the only child has borne the burden of all chores in the household - Taking out the trash, turning on your own geyser, putting away your own plates and sometimes everyone else's, having an intelligent say at a restaurant when your vote about menu choices actually count. We've done it when we were 8, we're quite ready to do it when we're alone and 25. I've noticed in most of my friend circles, the only child rarely has trouble making a choice; rarely says "I don't know what to eat" or "I'll have anything, you decide". Nah - The only child most definitely knows how to decide and have his/her own say. You could say, they're more decisive and less horrified at the idea of taking a stand. This sort of cascades into also being able to at times bounce ideas off themselves, finding a solution without having to listen to ten other suggestions, being able to easily travel alone, eat alone and sightsee alone if needed. They sort of get the difference between being lonely and being alone and realize that being alone can be an immensely satisfying and calming time.

Also, only children have a lot of time on their hands compared to those from families that can't fully fit in an auto when everyone's over the age of 12. I've noticed that often even the most fun-loving and carefree only children have very deep thoughts, are pensive and give smaller things more thought than one would imagine. On the plus side, we tend to give most things in the world some weight and somehow develop strong opinions about things. On the flip side, grave situations such as a death in the family, witnessing a crime or somebody in deep trauma may make us withdraw, self-loathe or derail us completely and no one would even know of the storm beneath the surface.

Another pro that doubles up as a con according to me, is the fact that only children give away too much love and trust when they find someone who makes them believe they can love them back. Since we come from families of three or sometimes even two, we find ourselves a lot more attached to friends and extended families who are nice to us. And when we find someone nice enough, sometimes we get carried away. We share secrets, our hearts, our lives. Sometimes, we're too giving, too nice, putting all of ourselves out there because we have the love to share. But sometimes, we trust too much, too fast, putting ourselves right there in the line of a prospective firing squad, waiting to have our hearts broken.

Another good according to me, is that though we love with all our hearts and give parts of ourselves away, once we realize it wasn't worth it, we do not settle for things. Because we sort of started out with fewer blocks and if a block doesn't exactly fit, we move on. We don't stay attached to it because it is what we're stuck with. We remember that we always have options, because the worst that can happen is we'll be alone. There is no comfort of knowing that if the other kids don't play with you, you'll have that sibling. We know we might have to go back to solving the newspaper crossword if we don’t find someone to play with. We know we may need to move on, find newer groups or cultivate a meal-for-one hobby. We equally happily grab the freedom of taking that plunge thinking we'll soar, but after falling for about ten floors if we don't see the point, we eject the parachute. Heck, we are our parachutes. We rescue ourselves.

Through conversations and pausing to think about these things over the last few years have taken me from someone who constantly thought she was shortchanged for not having a sibling, to accepting that being the only child wasn't too bad. I've become wiser, more considerate of some things and people and also added another thing to my guessing game with my mini-me when I meet new people - How old is she, where is she from, you think she's married? Does she have siblings? Most of the closer friends I made, knew that I used to tell myself and everyone, I will have at least four children (okay, that number was eight at some time, but we're all aimless dreamers at some confusing times in our lives!) because I don't want anyone to go through what I did. But you know what, in retrospect, I didn't do too badly. The grown-up me does still feel bad that I don’t have the blood of my blood (Insert subtle Khal Drogo reference) to share many things in my life, but is also thankful for many things I learnt through the process. If I were to have an only child, I'd try my best to make his/her growing up easier, but I'd also save this note for them to read, just so that on a particularly lonely day, they know that solo-flying isn't all that bad and it most definitely gets better.

One Night in a Forest - Our short weekend trip to Kabini

One of the lovely sights during the Safari at Kabini 

Pre-Work and Bookings

So, short on leaves and with limited options, given that several hill stations have already been ticked off, we decided to do some animal spotting – Masinagudi, Bandipur, Kabini came up in most searches and Kabini seemed to be a good option, with the whole river front stay and itineraries designed for a full day’s stay. So Kabini it was and from several blogs and searches, the Government run Jungle Lodges was the more preferred one, perhaps because of permits for safaris or because they’ve done this since forever, before Orange County and Serai came up and so on.

We went on to book online, because that is apparently the only way to do it now. The basic option is the tented cottage, but it was sold out, hence the next category had to be picked which is the room. Above which there are two more categories in the slightly better view/better interiors categories I’d imagine. Our room cost us Rs. 17,500 (After a Rs. 750 discount). This included stay for two people, all meals, two safaris, forest entry fees, all taxes and charges.

Reaching there

The Entry toward Jungle Lodges Kabini

Using Google maps! But in short, you need to take the NICE Road from Bangalore and reach till Mysore. Then turn left at the Mysore bypass and after about 20 kms, you need to turn left on SH 33 towards Manantwadi.

Continue straight and after a while the boards for all the Kabini lodges will start popping up and you can safely follow all of them except Orange County which takes a little detour. You will reach a dead end where the forest gates close for tourist vehicles, where there is a compulsory left and off you go.

The approach is really not bad – from a couple of blogs it seemed to be that the last 5-8 km is bad, but there is a tarred road up until the resort and it is in much better shape than several mainstream roads of Bangalore in fact!

Checking In

You drive into the reception after convincing the guard that you have a booking and at the Reception, your name is checked and a brief introduction to the resort is provided. The basics – where is your room, parking, food, etc. The parking area is pretty large under huge trees, so not much stress there. The rooms are across the resort. We had the Cottage Rooms – in the East Bungalow. Food was to be at the Gol Ghar which is also the location for all group briefings, huddles before safaris, etc.

The Room

The Tented cottage is mighty huge for two people – had two single beds joint to form a double bed, plus a third person cot. The roof is high and the furnishing is quite minimal, basic and vintage Indian. There is a fan in the room but as promised, no A/C or TV. There is a defunct fire place, but somehow adds a little charm to the room. The bathroom is decently spaced out as well and includes a tub and a shower that sprays more everywhere else than in front. There is also a backdoor in the bathroom, which opens out into some lush greenery, but not much else.

The rooms in the East Bungalow are attached closely side by side and if you walk past the rooms, good guess you’ll be able to hear what the occupants are saying. Zero marks for privacy!

There is a water filter at the portico of the Bungalow and ample place to sit outside and drink the chai you can make with the tea maker inside.

Food

• Lunch was decent and included a healthy mixed of boiled and stir fried vegetables. Day one Lunch was Carrot Peas, Jeera Alu, some Channa sabzi, Sambhar, Rasam, Dal, Rice, Pulao, Rotis, Chicken Curry, Mutton Curry and a sweet. Sumptious for the traveler who’s just reached and attacked the buffet.
• Dinner was a little more special (maybe because of the high post Govt. official who was visiting and enjoying his VIP treatment). There was live chicken barbeque, sweet corn soup, Alu Mutter Sabzi, Beetroot, Something resembling Maggi with vegetables, Rice, Sambhar, Rasam, Curds, Gulab Jamuns, Salad. I’m sure I’m missing something, but this is pretty much what stood out.
• Day 2 Breakfast was a healthy mix of Idlis, dosas, upma, omelettes, some baked potatoes, cutlets, toast, sheera and fruits.  
• Before the safaris (in the evening and morning), we got tea/coffee and biscuits
• After the evening safari, we also got Mirchi Pakodas and Tea/Coffee

Snack time

Animal Spottings

Well, this is the whole point of being here, I suppose. The safari starts with a spotting of the Sambhal and the spotted deer.

The Sambhal

We saw so many of them along the way, I can believe the guides might be able to tell them apart in fact. Some good clicks from a close distance later, we spotted a lone elephant, a female elephant just taking a walk. A bit further into the woods, we spotted a couple of beautiful birds – the Kingfisher, the Long-tailed bird, Woodpeckers, Eagles.

We saw so many deer, it stopped being a novelty after a bit!

The lone female elephant, wandering in the forest

The road then opened into a beautiful plain, by the side of the river – where we returned later and spotted a huge congregation of deer and wild boars and elephants.
Interesting to note that the wild boars and deer are mighty friendly with each other, but the boar can come for your throat if you’re wandering on foot. We then heard a sudden call and the guide whizzed us off into another side where we sat and waited and watched hoping a tiger was on the kill – that’s what the call meant apparently. But we had no such luck. A little more driving around to see at least one predator landed us in a part where wild gaurs where grazing. A couple of more langoors on the way and a mongoose and the safari was mostly done. We then headed back to the lodge with the sun setting behind us.

The lazy Gaurs

An animated and fun langoor!

Tip: If you really really just want to see animals, do not do the boat safari – It is better you opt to do to the jeep jungle safari on both occasions allowed.

Why you shouldn't do the Boat-Safari

We did the Jungle safari in the evening and the boat safari in the morning – besides the little ouch of not being able to spot any predator (leopards, panthers, tigers), what really irked me is that the next morning the boat safari turned out to be a giant sham. We were told by the safari guide in the evening that you might be lucky enough to see some predators during the boat safari also and there we were with high expectations. However, just a few 100 metres out on the river, the boatman started having trouble with the people who had laid fishing nets. The nets would oft get stuck in our boat and much time was spent maneouvring around the nets. Worse still, at a point someone threatened to complain to the police if we didn’t turn back and we were forced to turn back. A 6:45-8:30 boat safari reached the shore at 7:40 am. All we saw were a few birds – the same ones over and over again which the boatman had to point out to make the whole situation look less bad. There were some wise ones who opted to do the jungle safari in the morning as well and as luck would have it, at the breakfast table I heard them discussing the leopard they saw. My biggest tip for your stay is – Avoid the boat safari if you haven’t seen any predators and that is the highlight of your trip. You may have better luck if you do the normal jungle safari twice instead of spending time on the boat fighting with the fishermen.

Some birdwatching in the morning safari

The Good and the Bad

Pros:

• Great property and location – Tucked away in a corner, pretty large and lush with greenery, with very good access to the river
• Punctuality with regard to timings of safaris, meals etc – A little too punctual sometimes!
• The staff is courteous and helpful at all times.
• Food – is pretty good and offers a very decent variety of choices for the Indian palate. 
• Clearances – From what I’ve read and heard, they have exclusive permits to go into the forests
• Systematic – there is a plan to everything, food is at fixed hours; Briefings and commencement of Safaris are at fixed hours; There is no running a round
• Provision to buy mineral water, a soft drink, etc for pretty decent prices (a 600 ml pet bottle of Coke was Rs.50).

A beautiful Sunrise as we headed out on our boat safari

Cons:

• The rooms are not exactly paid much attention to – One may argue that staying in a forest, we can’t really expect luxuries, but it would help if the not so modest charges would justify atleast a better furnished room, given that the rooms are pretty large. Eg: the All out in the room exists, but has no liquid. There is a shower, but it is almost like a fountain, spraying all over the bathroom. Fittings are loose in some places and threaten to fall out at the lightest touch.
• Everyone is asked to watch the wildlife movie in the evening – We are expected to assemble at 7:45 for the movie. When you reach at 7:40, the movie has already started. And when you enter, you realize the room is full. The movie hall is not big enough to have all guests watching. Have two shows maybe?
• Coracle rides should probably be allowed at any time if possible – Allowing it in the morning just after the boat safari, just before check out, makes it less desirable to do.
• Boat Safari – Refer my note (rant) above, but they should tell people what it contains so people can make a more informed decision on what to do in the morning.
• During the safaris, all guests are not given enough attention – especially if you’re seated at the back, you will half the time not be able to hear what the guide/driver is pointing at until he stops and gets up and says it like 5 more times. They need to be a bit more considerate, since everyone pays for the same thing and everyone expects the same communication.

Conclusion

All in all, it was a worthwhile trip, a much needed break. Though we didn’t see as many animals, living by the river for a day and soaking in some green really helped!

She never saw, she never could...

She notices what they wear, or the bag those good-looking strangers carry,

But when it comes to who I am, she will just not see. 

Why won't I be like these ideal women, doting, serving, homely and quite shy,

Why do I bother donning my wings, when I should sit at home and dream of the day I'll fly.   

The smile on my face, or the glitter in my eyes that he loved so,

Will forever be shadowed by my repulsive color, oh look at that crow! 

She'd never know what I wanted to be, doesn't want to find out, will never try, 

But will always note how wrong my hair looks, why won't I just grow it, oh why!? 

While I may be what the world loves and finds fun to be around,

I will remain the woman who can't bake that pie crisp and round.

I will never be half of what she needs, though I'm twice of what I'd thought I'd be. 

I will remain those orchids she finds ugly, while weed that she loves is all she will ever need. 

She isn't even the most gifted creature ever made, not even close, 

But what I may lack, will forever be what she sees, even if over us, hell froze.

Got there finally, but took me long enough, to see. 

She saw nothing of what I was, but only how little of her I would ever be. 

I took it down and tucked it in carefully, I was the fool holding up a dreamcatcher, to her blind eye. 

Dear Sanjay Leela Bhansali,

From the trailers and the songs and perhaps from the moment I read about Ram-Leela a year ago, along with of course the SLB tag, it was up there on the list. Ram Leela was a movie to be looked forward to. Something that would almost save this year, which has been at least relatively less bombarded with good movies as compared to last year. We’ve had few gems, Yes. And we were hoping to wrap the year up with some cinematic brilliance in Ram Leela. Error on our part to expect, you say? Perhaps. 

But we came in to be awed. For your movies, an audience like us comes in ready to absorb anything, even over-the-top sequences which we will disregard as unacceptable otherwise. We know we will see rich red and brown silks, incessant warm  candle-lit hues and the two hours will be a sure-shot visual treat. We came in wanting to be overwhelmed, but left being grossly underwhelmed. 

From the moment the sand artist made the elegant necked swan to create the SLB logo, I settled in hoping for similar elegance in the movie. In the first fifteen minutes, after about a 100 gun shots, a scene with a kid un-imaginatively named Goli in this gun-extravangaza, pissing off a roof, Ranveer Singh appearing out of nowhere and breaking into a male item song in absolute garish clothes which he peeled off systematically to all the female hysteria, I started losing hope. It further didn’t help that there was a plethora of filthy ‘Dhoti-geeli kar li’ and likening the heroine’s bust size to 136 (Yes, 136 – this is not a typo) strewn generously throughout the movie. At a point I wondered, if I was watching a Grand Masti sequel by mistake. SLB, you are hallmark to beautiful cinema, please leave the rolling-in-the-mud kind of sleaze-fest to the insignificant others. 

Indeed, you made it clear it would be Goliyon ki Ras-leela, but I wish there was more of Ram-Leela. The pair is together for bits and pieces in the first half and out of each others’ sight in the second half. You talk about love despite distances maybe? But, nowhere in the first half, for me at least, were you able to establish this love. The two couldn’t keep their hands off each other for a scene, did they even find the time to fall in love? To think about each others’ souls and hearts and not vital stats and ‘size’? *facepalm*

Something I was craving to see till the very end was this love story. Romeo and Juliet fell in love at first sight, yes. But, wasn’t that followed up by pure romance? Physical intimacy was a small part of their love, not the only thing they seemed to do when alone! For a man who made Khamoshi, Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam and Devdas which were dripping romance and love, it is unbelievable why you would want to overlook something you are naturally and obviously good at – Capturing emotions of love and making people dream about this kind of consummate love for days afterward. 

Normal lovers exchange everything, I agree. Dirty messages, make sleazy advances at each other behind closed doors. But they also do so much more. They talk about their lives together; they look into each others’ eyes lovingly, without their hands simultaneously having to undress the other all the time. I’ll agree I love how Ram Leela are so real, but I feel there could have been so much more to them than we saw! I wish there was. 

Let us look at some high points of the movie. The music of Ram Leela is so haunting, it stays with you for days afterward. Mor Bani Thanghat sets the tone for the musical extravaganza from the opening credits and every few minutes, a new ride comes up and is an absolute pleasure to the ears. Laal Ishq reminds you of a peaceful yet inexistent state of love. Lahu Munh Lag gaya has the naughty, fun touch of love at first sight.

It is not as if there were no moments of brilliance in the movie. The scene where Dhankorba cuts Leela’s finger and Ram comes to her window at night and leaves that bloody mark from a broken finger on her door. It still gives me goosebumps. Couple of dialogues here and there – Beauty! “Ye toh aisa ho gaya na Ba, ki jaan nikaal bhi di aur zindaa chhod bhi diya”. Beautiful music, combined with absolutely beautifully shot sequences –A fantastic chasing sequences toward the end with the metal pot falling and rolling aimlessly, while Kesar Bhabhi runs for her honor and life alike; Deepika’s introduction scene, where she shoots in the sky, while there is an explosion of color and life with everyone playing Holi around. These little gems are there, individually shining, albeit shadowed and hidden away in the badly meshed chaos of the plot.

I went away, deeply wanting more from the movie. I went away feeling sad, because I felt this could have been so much better. It was in my head at least before I saw it. To-die-for outfits, extremely gorgeous looking actors and fabulous music definitely can enhance a plot. But here, there was such minimal flesh to actually dress-up, it almost seems like a hollowed mannequin beautifully dolled up in a window. It may have been liberating for you to make something so easy-going and loose flowing, but I wish it had something to keep me more engrossed and tied down. I wish I felt Ram and Leela’s pain and less my own at having witnessed this utter mess. 

Lootera.. And how the story of a thief stole my heart..

I know a movie has touched my heart, when long gone after I've seen it, I find myself re-living those scenes in my head - It almost is as if I've brought home a piece of it back with me. It isn't too often that happens and it happened yesterday with Lootera. I stayed away from reading full reviews till I saw it for myself, since I wanted to be unbiased and form my own opinion. And what beauty it turned out to be - such poetry in motion. The first thing I did when I got home, was search for 'The Last Leaf'. I wanted to see what O'Henry wrote of in 1904 and how much inspiration Lootera drew from the story. When I discovered that the only part was the bit about the masterpiece being the leaf (a key part of the movie, not denying), it took me by surprise, that the rest of it was fairly original screenplay. Such subtlety in story-telling, such beautiful cinematography and such beautifully etched out characters as Varun and Pakhi are so rare in cinema nowadays, not to forget a movie that holds its ground without any garish item songs, crass love-making scenes, loud music, cuss words or over the top product placement - the things producers do to milk a movie. 

When I think of penning down my thoughts, I find so many of them running loose and fighting for attention, it almost frightens me if I'll ever get them all in words. 

The storyline for the first half is pretty plain. Boy meets girl, love at first sight. Boy thugs girl's father, he dies. She retreats into a set of lonely sorrowful days. The second half however is what lifts the movie and takes it a whole new level. We know of Bollywood having done some miserable last moments scenes, some woefully funny revenge scenes, but the beauty here is in how each character is treated as a real person with real emotions and not someone twisted and made to look awkward in the end to suit commercial audiences and stereotypical storylines. Pakhi's characteristics and nature till the end of the movie remain consistent with how she is in the first half. You see bits of the first half and picture her acting a certain way if she were real - and she does just that. Harbour a fugitive who she helped the police nab in the first place, yet try her best to keep him away from her when he tries to talk to her - so contradicting, but yet so in line with the person you imagine her to be - the person a broken-hearted, angry, yet in love Pakhi would be. 

There are some scenes in the movie, which completely steal your heart - some as the compelling pre-interval sequence, where you see fleeting scenes of the Kolkata bar with Varun and his mates, Pakhi dressing herself in royal finery, for her engagement with the love of her life, a lost and broken father with the sudden wrinkles of disbelief on his face. Ah, beauty. It almost shows you in an instant, how the very same moment is for three different people with inter-twined lives but has distinctly different emotions for each of them - Guilt, Heartbreak and Mistrust. 

When Varun first sets sight on Pakhi (after their little accident), there is no fancy music playing in the background, to suggest love at first sight, though from just the pace of the scene and the expressions on their faces, you know there was a spark. For cinema to bring that out, without a deliberate attempt to drive home that chemistry is absolutely wonderful. Their interactions, completely normal, slow, but fondness growing with each hour they spend teaching each other painting - is the kind I haven't seen before. They don't sing songs around trees, don't even touch each other till before the interval maybe and yet you feel for the two lovers. You feel their warm emotion in each scene, you feel their longingness to soak in that extra moment. Pakhhi's mischievous satisfaction of wearing his jacket and smoking his cigarette, just to grab that extra whiff of his scent, to almost feel him wrapped around her - what a beautiful kind of romance. 

You also cannot ignore how the sets, the clothes, the environment, the British cutlery, brass vessels, the jewellery, just the entire era has been re-created to lend that extra feel to each dialogue. The fireplace lit wooden floors of Dalhousie - a stark contrast against the hard snow outside - adds just that tinge of vintage romance. The music, apt - vintage string instruments and classical Indian music when talking of angst and pain and louder wind instruments when playing scenes showing the crime and escape of Varun. The music of Lootera has a journey of its own. You can listen to the album and the movie will replay in your head. 

The scene towards the end, where Pakhi tells Varun how his life is in danger and yet at the end has only one question - only one single question, which kept her alive all this while, irrespective of the fact that this is the man who cost her a loving father's embrace. This is the man, who drove her to this state of loneliness and illness, leaving her literally counting her days. She innocently just wants to know if he ever loved her. At that moment, nothing else mattered, but knowing if he ever felt the same. You can't help but shed a tear for the woman, who hated this man for years, yet kept that piece of her heart soft and loving for him - because What if? What if she wasn't a fool, what if she was as loved as she did love. It would be some balm for her bruised soul, a ray of hope for her otherwise graying horizon.

I love movies that treat you as an intelligent audience, that do not spoon feed and tell you in as many words - This is how it ends. Lootera does just that. In the climax, when Pakhi walks out and sees the painted leaf tied to the branch and lets out that laughter - no words, no dialogues, just happiness and release. Memories of how she told Varun she can't  ever paint leaves and how he promised he'd paint a masterpiece someday. Here she was, looking at it - a symbol of hope and of his love for her. A symbol of the  masterpiece she would never forget. I do not know if she lived or died afterward, but what is important is that the leaf brought back a smile which you don't see since half-time of the movie and hope to wake up another day - leaf or not. Varun meets his end and accepts it wide arms - his purpose in life seems to be fulfilled with Pakhi less miserable. 

A lot of people who saw the movie found it slow and boring. I for my part, found it fine paced. It reminded me of reading of such romance in books. There is beauty in each line, in each page. The movie makes you believe in the kind of love you forget in a world like the one we live in. Fast-paced, gadget-ridden, mortgages, office chores, household chores. Where does anyone have the time for romance nowadays? People fire-fight, more than they bring a warm smile to someone's eyes. In an era like this, movies such as Lootera offer an escape - to a more beautiful world, of a more beautiful love, of a better yesterday in a certain sense.