A school in Gola

 This beautiful mud house with the bright blue door is a village school. But where are the children? Not quite sure. It was locked at noon when I visited the hamlet in Gola Block of Ramgarh District on a tuesday.

Hope he children are learning. Barely legible scrawl on the walls spells out that this is a village school. The teacher's name is Geeta. This is followed by messages on organic farming! Go figure.

Nevertheless, as I walked into the near empty roads of the village that afternoon, the white and blue school looked very beautiful.

The Perfect Lunch

Perfect weather, beautiful place, striking people and then just the lunch waiting for us in quiet Rupkona village. The menu - rice, dal, sag, kundru's sabzi, tomato relish. Perfect.

 Luunch at Rupkona village, Rayagada district, Odisha

Janakpur Jaoge?

At last we arrive at Janakpur, Koria District, Chhatisgarh. Even the smallish Ambikarpur, from where we had begun four hours earlier, is gigantic in comparison.

A quick tea later, we hit the dirt road to the Villages for my official field visit. Like everywhere where else in Chhatisgarh, the wide open expanses are a constant source of surprise. The car stops on a sleepy little dirt track, we get off and walk  across fields and up to two mud huts in the middle of nowhere. As we near the huts, we are greeted by a pint sized thin as a reed totally naked boy who goes straight upto Fr. Xaxa and lisps in Sadri 'where did the car come from? I want to go to Jankpur'. Fr. Xaxa points at me and says"madam has come in it".

Half an hour later, when we are returning after our survey of the field and meeting with a few farmers, there is little Kisan ... dressed in his best shirt and shorts with both eyes shining in anticipation of Madam taking him in the car to far away Janakpur.


































Surprising that a tiny town like this even exists today in the jostling India of more than a billion. But apparently a comatose town to one can be a  fabled Shangrila to others.

Alas, with a heavy heart, Madam has to leave.Without him. But Kisan is going to go far, far beyond Janakpur. One day.

Not quite ghost story

The train had slowed down to a very pleasant roll as we were nearing Shalimar Station. It was raining heavily now and all the other passenger in my coach had left at the previous station Santragachi, leaving me all alone in the entire a/c coach. As we passed by Padmapukur Station, ghostly, empty, as the rains came crashed all around,  there it was - the solitary crow on the bench ... now just a blur through the rain specked window. A perfect setting for a ghost story ... where we'd be travelling for ever, the train and me and everytime I'd look out ... the crow would still be there.

PS - That didn't happen. Thank god!

The hills were alive...

...not with the sound of music. More like our wails, our prayers - silent and loud throughout our journey through the Khasi and Jaintia hills. Thank God the bus didn't go via the Garo hills, on our 17 hour road trip from Silchar to Guwahati. Only a day before we had slept comfortably on the night bus and woke up on reaching Silchar early in the morning.

We began our return at 7am from Silchar and made good progress till we reached Ladrymbai. And there we were for another 4 hours, inching through a narrow high road with steep drops on either side. That thin narrow road was now a 4 laner. The lane on the extreme left had coal filled trucks lined up for miles. And the other three were free for all with huge Volvo buses, vans, vannettes, cars of all shapes and sizes, bikes, cycles and what have you. Ever so often, our bus would pull to the extreme right, swerve off the road and onto a miniscule track on the edge (of the aforementioned steep drop downhill) and we'd go tossing in our seats, with bottles and various bags skittering from left to right inside the bus. And after a while another heave ho and we all tilt to the right. And it went on and on and on.

I am NOT making this up. Normally, giving the narrowness of the road and the height and the nonstop winding, even two large trucks or buses crossing each other is perilous. This was nothing short of a death wish.

But we survived. After a four hour delay, the 12 hour ride should have taken 18 hours, but the super man at the wheel sliced off one hour! We landed at Khanapara in Guwahati in 17 hours and headed straight to The Naga Kitchen and tucked into two Naga thalis to quell our quakes and shivers.

We had gone to Silchar for a field visit, to plan out some training for parents of deaf children. My colleague said, "Let's get the trainer by night bus and send her back by night bus". Absolutely. Nothing to see, nothing to fear. True.

All you adrenalin junkies - the bungee jumpers, the sky divers, the tight rope walkers - now try this. I dare you to.

Something new, in Bhopal

I did something entirely new this time, in Bhopal. Something entirely new since I started visiting Bhopal (way back in April 2009). That is a period of 802 days. Once a month visit makes it 30 visits or so in which the pattern never changed. Never wavered even. Airport / station / hotel / meetings / reports / visits ad nauseum (except two half days for a quick and incredibly guilt inducing trips to Sanchi and Bhimbetka).

So what was it? Can you imagine I spent it in company of friends?! And not the squeezing in of one more report, some more planning and yet more telephonic barking at my state teams (after office hours), or vegetating in my room (the faulty TV remote usually means I am stuck watching a crappy channel and too drained to manually change the channels).

Old friends first. My dad's colleague from so very long ago, who have known me since birth. here I was meeting them after a gap of two decades or so...and enjoying their pleasure in meeting me and recounting tales of yore!

New friends next - some one I met only 3 days ago in Kolkata at another friends place. The first thing she said to me was please tell me why are you coming to Bhopal? I mean, this is not the best time to sight see. On work. Oh! Well come visit us. And so I did.

And I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was, well, very pleasant and refreshing! Out out damn guilt.

And as if to share in my happiness, the weather too unwinded dutifully each evening after a hot draining day, by pouring....

Nicely Done, Nagpur

As soon I boarded the night train from Bhopal to Nagpur, I began itching all over. I thought it might be bed bugs (in a train??) and realised that I was having an allergy attack and I spent the 7 hours sitting on the edge of a lower berth in the dark ... thankful it was night and everyone was too busy sleeping instead of watching me in my plight.

Nagpur arrived at 4am and dark, the streets deserted. I got into an auto and asked the driver to take me to an all night pharmacy. Which he did promptly. The two attendants had to be woken up and bleary eyed gave me some medicines. As I paid, the auto driver told me, "I will take you to a government hostpital. The emergency will be open." Dont risk taking medication without asking a doctor. OK, I said. And he did. I wondered if I'd have to leave my suitcase and laptop behind in the auto...The driver solved the problem. He took my suitcase and laptop and shepparded me to a window; "yahan say 5 rupay ka ek slip lijiye". I did. Then he took me to another room where there was an attendant who took my slip and called a young lady who looked like she had just woken up. She gave me an anti-allergen shot and asked the driver if I was going somewhere close by. haan. Dus minute main hotel pahuncha doonga. Ok. And that was indeed that. In 10 minutes I was at the hotel and another 15, snug in my bed, all itches gone and all nicely drowsy by the shot. And did you know, the driver didnot even ask me for more fare for this detour. I very happily paid him more than double of what he had asked, knowing even then, it was a very small way to say thankyou.

Nagpur has been a transit point for the nearly 2 and a half years I have been to-ing and fro-ing Bhopal. All I see is the airport, the station, the cabbie, the auto driver and one hotel where I sometimes spend a night. I dont know anyone. And yet...these extremely brief encounters have been pleasant ones. And after that fateful night...I am overwhelmed. Nagpur & Nagpurians...Nicely Done.

Women at work

"Look -- a lady traffic police", I said, quite amazed.

"Bhubaneswar is full of women traffic police", said my young colleague J (leaving "what - you have never seen one in big bad kolkata", unsaid).

Colour, Bhopal

In Flight demo

Another trip to Bhopal. Which means flying to Nagpur from Kolkata, a cab to Nagpur station, a train to Bhopal and an auto to my hotel in Bhopal. I can now do it blindfolded.

And I thought I had learnt all the tricks and shortcuts and had seen it all. Not quite, as I found out.

I got a seat right in front of the plane on the Kolkata Nagpur flight. As I took my seat, I found the plane abuzz with mosquitoes. More were entering through the open door as other passengers were still boarding. A lady swatted angrily and complained to the airhostess about them. “It happens only in Kolkata,” said the air hostess, catching my eyes and smiling sympathetically. I looked stonily ahead my hackles raised (cant help this bongness). But only momentarily. Indeed there was a thick cloud of mosquitoes. Maybe not a cloud, but definitely a swarm which, heh heh avoided me sensing my solidarity and attacked others.

As the flight took off, and the plane went upwards (to stratospheric heights), the mosquitoes settled and then vanished. But not before a final show. I have never paid much attention to the security drill / demo by the cabin crew (atleast not as much as men do…but that I think has more to do with air hostesses in short skirts) but this time, I did. And what a demo it was. The airhostess slapped (her arms), swatted (her face and neck), stamped her feet all the while demonstrating the usual seat belts, oxygen masks, exits demo!! It was funny. But full points to the lovely lady for not missing a beat even with all the stamping, stomping, slapping and swatting!

At long last - Sanchi photos

My SANCHI photos, 2 months after I visited Sanchi and blogged about. What is afterall 2 months? Meaningless. Afterall, Sanchi has been there for a couple of millenia and espcially now after Bhimbetka!

So, look at the photos, if you will and re-read the post, if you would.

Time Travel - BP to AD: Bhimbetka

The maddening tour continues. Back from Bhopal last night and going to Bhubaneswar tonight. Which means this month, I spend 4 entire days at home. Imagine! On our first day in Bhopal, a sunday, we were able to wrap up things early and visit Bhimbetka.

One hour drive from Bhopal, a right turn and then a narrow, surprisingly well maintained road snaked its way up leaving everyone and everything behind and suddenly...we zoomed back to...well pre-history.

Was it the gigantic odd shaped prehistoric crags (dated BP - "before present"), the strange red, white and blue striations on the rock surface - believed to be under water before the north and south gondowana land collided to give rise to the world structure as we know nos throwing up many mountains ranges, including these rocky crags part of the Vindhyas.

And the cave paintings. Our guide dated these to be from 12,000 years ago - those in white; the ones in red being more recent merely 2000-3000 years ago and ofcourse somewhere in between the legend of the lot later Pandavas, bhim in particular - bhim baithika.

As the guide led us from one rock shelter to another pointing out the paintings - white, red, pale yellow and green....we were lost, transported far far away. Suddenly, the tour had ended and we were right in the front whence we had begun.

And only half an hour had passed and yet we had travelled 12,000 years. And back.

There is so much on Bhimbetka on the net. Archaeological Survey of India & Unesco World heritage site among others. But these pictures don't half capture the magic.

"See madam, the colours are all original, surviving all these years. And yet the C/5 marking that the ASI had inscribed to denote the rock shelter no. 5 has to be renewed ever so often".

Civilisation then, need not mean progress?

PS - Again, a digicam with a chip capable of storing only 3-4 snaps (argh! Dont ask ... long boring story).

The bright idea

On our arrival at Nagpur airport, we took a cab to the staion for our train to Bhopal. Trains have been running late due to fog, our MP NGO partners had informed us. And so they would be taking a bus instead.

We had more than an hour to spare before the train arrived. I looked up the reservation charts to find I was still WL1 which in effect meant, I had to no ticket and no right to board the train. My boss however had a confirmed berth. And she said we'd share. Half a berth is better than no berth for an overnight journey. Yes. Only we were travelling by 3rd A/C and my boss had a confirmed upper birth. That close to the ceiling and both of us sharing? We'll ask some one on a lower berth to change places, she said.

The train arrived only an hour and half late. I boarded the train on a general ticket. Our coupe was all men and one mother with an infant. We asked if one good soul would change place with us. No one refused outright. Its just that they didnot look at us or reply distinctly. Mumbled and looked away. The TT said I could pay the difference and share the upper berth but he couldnt give me another berth simply because there was not a single empty one on the entire train. Ogotta, upper berth.

I stood around glaring at everyone, gnashing my teeth while my super efficient, super energetic boss swung into action. She went up first and spread the beddings. Next she asked me to hand her the laptop, LCD, our biggish handbags, assorted shawls and sweaters etc and as I watched astonished, she made space and sort of curved into a comma and asked to climb up. Which I did. The alternative was to stand in the dark coach for 8 hours.

We were just striking enormously acrobatic poses on the narrow berth one feet from the ceiling when the chappie on the lower berth (the other LB was occupied by the mother and baby) got up and said, "Aap kaisey aisey jayenge?" At this the others too stirred. "Aap please niche aa jaiye aur main UB le loonga".

The others arose and helped us bring down all our stuff one by one. Their collective guilt now had a reprieve thanks to this guy. We repeated the entire process on the LB and it did take us some amount of arranging and re-arranging before we could settle down and eventually fall asleep.

We reached Bhopal relatively refreshed thanks to the chap and I know I should have been more grateful. He was fast asleep as we left and I hadn't thanked him when I had a chance to. Instead I had said, "if only you had the bright idea of changing places 15 minutes earlier"...

Time unravels all - Sanchi, Vidisha & Udaigiri

I had half a day off in Bhopal and debated - Sanchi or Bhimbetka? Sanchi won. Bhimbetka is for another trip, MP being a project state, I have to visit Bhopal frequently. And so Surendra, the driver from MP tourism and I went to Sanchi-Vidisha-Udaigiri.

First stop Sanchi. Chilly but not freezing. Green and beautiful. I made it. Afterall! The great Stupa, the four gateways. Ashoka the Great. 3rd century BC. Devi, Anuradha, Mahendra; Sungas; Here was an Ashoka Pillar with bits of the original smooth chunar sandstone still intact still carrying the famous edict of Ashoka warning against schism in the Buddhist community. (I can't ofcourse read it). The shaft of the pillar intact. The middle broken into two lying under a covered dias and the four lion heads in the archeological musuem, next door. Thanks to a blogger - I forget who - since I had read up so many before the trip - said not to miss the archeological survey of India Museum. Beautifully and painstakingly restored - a photographic record of the restoration is in the museum, Sanchi is a pleasant visit. And ofcourse the curious serenity I find around Buddhist places of worship or temples is here as well.

Outside in the parking were bored drivers, guides jostling each other to grab a foreign tourist party, vendors - wondering no doubt, what could be of so much interest that one thinks nothing of spending huge amounts to travel to Sanchi from great distances, on taxis, on guidebooks, on cameras, on guides and yet haggle about parking fees (I did), shoo away beggars.

Bija Mandal jayengi? Surendra sounded incredibly bored. Aapko pata hai naa, I ask? Haan, Vidisha main, he says. So, onto Vidisha which was once a super prosperous town, mentioned in Kalidasa's Meghdoot. Home town of Devi, Ashoka the great's wife. Really? Impossibly narrow, dirty crowded little town, could be anywhere in India. Garbage demarcating lanes, cross roads. Cows, pigs, dogs. And the seemingly random use of colours - green door here, yellow window there, a woman in a bright pink sari - colours foreigners would find eye catching and dutifully photograph. We went round and round while the roads became narrower and crowded. Finally, even my enthusiasm palled. Chalo. Surendra's relief was short lived. To Heliodorus' pillar, I said.

The pillar, standing sentinel from so long ago, now, in the middle of absolutely no where. No one around. A stray dog and me (embarrassingly touristy in jeans, windcheater, camera, mineral water bottle now containing local tap water filled at my hotel in Bhopal and guide book). The pillar stands in a fenced area with trees. There is a board of the archeological society of India. Surendra must have wondered at my choice of place. And might he be right? A pillar. Except that there is a thrill to think what it might have been around 110 BCE when a Greek ambassador of the Indo-Greek king Antialcidas to the court of the Sunga king Bhagabhadra had it erected. According to some records, he had converted to hinduism (?) since it was dedicated to Vishnu. Having seen the pillars which took about 2-3 minutes, there was well, nothing much to do. And yet, having come here all the way, I could hardly make a hasty exit, could I? So I loitered around for another 5 minutes or so, frequently consulting the MP Tourism brochure before leaving for the last stop (while Surendra kept in turns looking at the pillar and at me, in puzzled amazement).

Udaigiri. Ancient rock cut temples on a dark hill from the Gupta period. The lone caretaker was quite happy to see me, the lone tourist and showed me around. No signs / tablets or whatever they are called - detailing history and information would have been helpful. The climb was painful. The descent excruciating. Thankgod for Surendra. He helped me down, step by painful and vertigo inducing step. Did he wonder what the hell was I doing there? He must have.

There were the obligatory "Sonu loves Pinky" graffitti in hard to reach places. God. Why do people deface these places so? And how do they reach those places and carve out these messages?Panting, gasping (me) and relieved Surendra left Udaigiri for our return back to Bhopal. Just a while back, in Sanchi, what a thrill it was to see slabs inscribed in pali / parakrit? Or was it just plain graffitti? Should I then be so upset with "Sonu love Pinky" modern variety. Who knows? A couple of millenia later, will a future archeological society be constructing guard rails and guided tours on "Sonu Loves Pinky"?! Maybe?!

As I made my way back to Bhopal, I think I got my answer as to who won. Not Sanchi, nor Bhimbetka. But Time - that mighty leveller. Man might make short term gains like in Sanchi but sooner or later, will have to bow done to time!

I found neat info on Sanchi here.

PS - The cam I took from my colleague was out of memory and I couldn't figure out how to erase all the old pictures. I could take only 4. Can you imagine my angst at deciding which 4 to take? And anyhow, am still waiting for my colleague to mail me those pix. In the meanwile, some neat Sanchi pix at Aaravind GJ's.

Kakdip and back...

Had to go to Kakdip yesterday (on work)... and within half an

hour we were able to leave planet polluto behind and
hit the long and not so narrow road...

Drink in the greenery

Reach our destination, meetings, agenda, action plans, good homely
lunch, power cuts without the sweat and grime....and leave

with one last look at the still ponds

Stop by the sunflowers

Wave goodbye to Kakdip bashis


and there she was larger than life...
about to step into a scum filled pond....
to bring us back to reality...



Omnipresent Didi

Dawn at Murguma

Impossible work load, overload in fact. Home-work-home-work monday to saturday and very frequently sunday too. Work took me out of station - last month - to Guwahati twice, Bhubaneswar and Nagpur once each (airport to hotel to meeting to hotel to airport everywhere) and Shantiniketan thrown in (for holi) but alas, with office laptop and deadlines looming large. So I live vicariously, through other's travel for travel's sake. Below are some mindblowing photos of Murguma in Purulia. Murguma means mayurer bari - peacock's home. Photos taken by my cousin B.

Shantiniketan

The names says it all. It really is the abode of peace - at least in my personal experience. Went there last 7 years ago. 'It's not the same any more'. 'Has changed (and for the worse)', etc., comments fly. But there I was coming in from Assam (work) late on Monday night and packed and ready early next morning for Shantiniketan. I was tired. It was going to be HOT. But having said yes to the trip long back, couldn't back out. Atleast I would spend two days in company of friends I rarely get to meet nowadays. But as it turned out...fortune favours the bold! As our Sumo crammed with 8 of us + the driver + assorted bags, one wheelchair to boot...sped out of Kolkata ... the sun sort of didn't rise despite it being nearly 7:00 am. The skies darkened further and a cool breeze made us shiver (we were all of us in our most comfortable, sleeveless, worse for wear Kolkata summer wear). Ah! Kothai jeno brishti porchay.

A short stop at Shaktigarh for a quick breakfast of kochuri, aloor tarkari and ofcourse the famous langcha - took me longer to read the names of all the langcha shops - Langcha Mahal, Langcha Kutir, Langcha dham, langcha stop, langcha bhavan, langcha bhuvan, Langcha godam, Langcha ghar...and ofcourse each had one unique claim to fame - Mithun Chakraborty ate here, Mahanayak Uttam Kumar ate there, here was Abhijeet smiling and there was Subhash Chakraborty in person at Langcha Mahal entourage, guards et al (on our way back).

And then we entered Birbhum. I would have known it even without the mileposts. The scenery changes completely. Flat wide expanse of bare fields like blond brush, ...the dusty dusky green in the distance, beautiful mud huts, red earth and ofcourse, I don't quite know I am filled with glee and there I am sitting at the back of the cramped sumo humming...what else - gram chara oi ranga matir poth!

And then two days of bliss. Soaking in that special variety of shanti that one gets there. Still pools, a few hens, bleating goats there, boys and girls on cycles...the still timeless quality in the air, the sated contentment, winding ranga matir path, everything seems to be posing for a gigantic, real life tableaux and I can't get enough of it.

Despite the physical weariness, mentally, I am fully re-charged.

The Train, the Taj and the Glacier

Good news for Indians, Indophiles, travelers, tourists, adventure sports lovers, trekkers and well why not everyone?

The historic Shimla Kalka Railway
Also known as the Shimla Toy train, it is being examined by a team of experts who will submit their report to UNESCO. The final decision to declare it as a World Heritage Property will be taken up at the next UNESCO general assembly in Quebec in July 2008.



This 104 year old railway covers 96 kms over marvelous rugged terrains and going through 103 tunnels, 969 bridges and has 919 curves of 68 kms! Inclusion in the World heritage site would do wonders for its preservation and conservation for posterity.

This narrow gauge railway was conceived of in 1847, plans for it drawn up in 1887 and work started in 1898 and finished in 1903. However, it was inaugurated only in 1906 and since then has been wowing millions of people (other than providing a convenient means of transport over what would otherwise be rugged mountain terrain).

A sad tale is associated with the construction of this railway, in particular with the Barog station named after the engineer in charge of its construction. He committed suicide after realizing that the two ends of the tunnels didn’t meet. Had it been perfectly aligned, it would have been the longest railway tunnel in the word. His grave lies just 1 km off the station.

If the Shimla toy train makes it to the list, it will join its counterparts - the Darjeeling Himalayan Railway and the Nilgiri Mountain Railway in South India.

My shameful note: I haven’t been on any of them, but will do, soon.

Age old beauty treatment for the Taj
Women have been using face packs of Multani Mitti (also known as Fuller’s Earth) for centuries. Its astringent qualities for cleaning marble have also been documented in the 16th century. ASI has already tried it out on the Taj once before and happy with the results, will be soon giving it a much needed facial. So, hurrah, we get to see Taj in its pristine, marbled glory, soon.



My happy note: Having been to the Taj thrice already, I am really looking forward to seeing it all cleaned up, and this time by moon light!

Exciting times for adventure sports enthusiast: The Siachen Glacier-Saltoro Ridge
A news paper report says that “India is now actively encouraging mountaineering and trekking expeditions to the forbidding glacial heights”. A 16 member Indo-french team has already led an expedition to Mamostong Kangri Peak, 30 kms east of the snout of the Siachen Glacier between July 30 - September 1. A 33 member Army expedition is currently under way. Another expedition of both army and civilians to Rimo Peak overlooking the Aksai Chin has begun on September 6, 2007. So, go conquer!

My happy to be far away and read about other’s exploit note: Go there, do that and I will buy the T-shirt!

Shankarpur Revisited

I had last been to Shankarpur in 1999. Along with Digha, about 10 kms away and neighboring Orissa, this used to be the longest unbroken coastline in the world. Digha was and continues to be West Bengal’s favourite seaside haunt, bursting at the seams with a million hotels and restaurants and what seems like entire West Bengal holidaying there, despite an empty Shankarpur next door with a lovely, virgin beach and handful of tourist – about 10 or 15, perhaps even less. When I recently revisited Shankarpur along with A and R (this was couple of years ago). Nothing seemed to have changed. We still had the place to ourselves except for the handful of tea shacks and fishermen and hotel staff.

The route from Calcutta to Shankarpur though considerably shortened (it took 4 hours instead of the earlier 6) was in patches terrible and our rickety ambassador was in constant fear of coming apart! Also, to enliven things up a bit, the radiator heated up and the hood blew off while we were cruising at full steam ahead, and fell on the windshield completely obscuring our view while we came to a rather shaky halt. Thank god there was no major traffic on the road. Our resourceful driver tied the bonnet to the chassis with a bit of a string and we were ready to go!

The scenic beauty more than made up for the discomfort of the terrible heat and humidity and the mamoth potholes. The foliage grew in wild profusion on either side of the road with none of the symmetry that is so inherent in the deepest of forests in Europe, but no less beautiful. The ash winding road, red earth bordering it was in places completely yellow due to fallen leaves crushed underfoot.

The greenery was broken at intervals by a shrill flash of colour of a house, the bigger the house, (meaning the more prosperous), the more colourful it was. The architecture too got more ambitious: cupolas, turrets, green, red, yellow, blue tiled walls; window grills with fantastic work on them.

More interesting were the small temples by the roadside at regular intervals, indicating the presence of a village. Mostly these were low roofed one room affairs. But that is were the similarity ended. Each and everyone were beautiful and different. One had, I remember catching a glimpse as we whizzed past, large oval platters with Krishna, Subhadra and Balaram's faces painted on them. Another had a life size Shiva, Parvati seated on a bench under a tiled roof, as if waiting for the next bus! In the 200 kms to Shankarpur, we passed nearly 20 such temples, including couple of mosque and one church.

It would be nice to travel the country and photograph these temples. Here's another of my "Things I'd like to do, someday" idea, thought of and filed away. Actually, if I were to be 100% honest, the thinking it up and dreaming about it gives me more pleasure.

It was four hours of delightful rural scenery: A women in a red saree, spreading grains on the road to be husked under the tyres of passing vehicles. In places, coconut replaced the grains. Bullock carts ambling by; cowherds leading their skinny cattle somewhere; kids fishing, locals going on their daily lives just as they had been for generations, completely oblivious to the huge hoardings dotting the place advertising mobile phones, corn flakes and latest gadgets and ignoring the fancy car loads of tourists whizzing past.

At the hotel, we had taken two garden view rooms, a better bargain, we later found out even though the 'garden' was nothing more than a messy green field where the hotel staff hung out their personal laundry! The more dearer Sea view was really the 'Tila' or hillock view studded with jhow trees which blocked any view of the beach that lay just behind it! We were the only tourist in the entire hotel and in fact in the entire area. So we did get some personal attention everywhere we went. In fact the staff at our hotel took to us so much that they had no qualms in wondering around in towels in front of us, bathing under the tap in the courtyard, making no pretence whatsoever of being a three star hotel! By Friday (when we were checking out) they had gotten their act together, sprucing up the places, getting into uniform for the hectic weekends when the hotel would be fully packed.

The Sea was unbelievably beautiful and the fact that we two were the only people bathing in that entire stretch had A extremely surprised. It was like having our own private beach, except the tea stalls and the fishermen and R who sat decorously in one of the tea stalls and broke many hearts. She was such a hit at Shankarpur. Quite a few people asked her if they had seen her someplace!

We took a trip to Digha in the evening. There is a very nice promenade by the sea dotted with souvernir stalls selling the most wonderful trinkets, jewellery and knick-knacks made entirely of sea shells. A new addition are stalls selling all sorts of sea fish that you pick up and they fry. We had to regretfully avoid the large prawns, A having just recovered from Typhoid.

R caused a sensation wherever she went. She thought of nothing to parade about in Digha in silk shirt and black trousers, every strand of hair and make up in place while A and I roamed around like a pair of sun burnt country bumpkins. She caused a jam at the shooting gallery in Digha where she popped balloon after balloon (one can hardly miss at that range). I could have walked past naked and not one person would have batted an eyelid, much to A's dismay.

I was very frightened should any one took too much of a liking to her and so at night, I made her stack a flimsy table against the door of her room and piled it up with glasses and bottles so that should anyone try to enter, the glasses would fall and warn her and give her enough time to ring me up. And I would sail in like a Royal Bengal Tigress! Luckily, nothing happened, no one got hurt except perhaps A's ego. He mentioned quite a few times to whoever would listen that S (me) is very popular in France!!!

After three days of sea, sand and sea food, we returned to Kolkata, but stopping for lunch, not at Sher e Punjab dhaba (much to A's dismay - it would mean a lengthy detour), but at a place called - wait for this - "Sher e Bengal"... obviously Punjabi dhaba food with a good dose of Bengal in it!!

I am told that apart from the odd Film crew (mostly Bengali, but also Mani Ratnam's Yuva) and a handful of tourist, Shankarpur still remains pristine. Thank god for that. And if you do happen to go there and find it the way we did, do make the effort to visit Digha next door: Just to savor the contrast!

Atithi Devo Bhavah

They say that the first impressions are often the strongest. Especially unpleasant ones, no matter how tiny compared to the rest of the good or pleasant impressions. That one tiny bad experience can colour one's judgement, perception (negatively).

On our arrival at the Indira Gandhi International airport, Murphy’s Law struck. We got stuck at the slowest counter at Immigrations. Then our luggage took its time to arrive. Others whizzed past.

We waited feeling dazed, disoriented having traveled across three time zones within 24 hours, jostled and shoved by others who got their luggage and rushed out. I left the trolley for a closer look at the belt, when there was a resounding crash behind me. Both A and I froze. My precious Indonesian fan had been knocked down. Having cradled the large cumbersome thing like a baby from Jakarta, only to have it crash so close to home, was too traumatic for me. I ran, picked it up and then before I knew it, I scowled (too mild a word), snarled was more like it, at the hapless (and I suppose bewildered Chinese co passenger, one of the large China Express group), who cowered. To our relief, it hadn't broken and was intact.

We collected our luggage and passed the Chinese contingent, who by now, were even more confused. Their leader was holding a piece of paper, no doubt with the instructions, which at the moment was making little sense. I can imagine what a contrast IGI must have seemed to them from the efficient order of Changi airport.

Outside, it was hot and dry and ugly and chaotic, traffic was bad, roads were dug up. And to make matters worse, remorse struck.

And just five hours back, we were in Singapore, where everyone, without exception, had been so nice, friendly, cordial. (A told me that was because S’pore is dependent on tourism). Perhaps it was. But they felt so genuinely nice and warm.

Lately, there have been these Atithi Devo Bhavah ads running on television as part of the Incredible India Campaign, Based on the ancient Indian thought “Atithi Devo Bhavah” Our guest is blessed. Our visitor is God”,

It’s simple logic, if someone in a house is rude to you, as a guest, you don’t encourage your friends and relations to go there”.

First impressions are often the strongest. And to the Chinese lady, I (Indian Jane Doe) was mean and bad to her. It was my fault after all, to have left the 4 feet long fan precariously balanced on the trolley. She would after all never know that I have cherished the thought of having my own Indonesian fan (since I first saw one at the age of 12) and finally getting one, what it meant to me. She would not know that we are, in general, a warm and hospitable race. She would never know that I am actually quite nice and non aggressive and helpful. Worse. What if, I was responsible for making her think badly of Indians forever.

A part of me says that as usual, I am blowing things out of proportion. She must now be busy in sightseeing. And yet, like a small itch that refuses to go away. I keep remembering that odd officer at the immigration desk at Changi airport who very curtly (and completely opposite to the warm and friendly Singaporeans) asked me to step back from the monitor and not see what he was typing in. (Also, the fact that he had a layer of foundation, eye brows thickly penciled in and had lipstick on which had smudged and spread over his lips. Yes he did!)

It’s never too late. Atithi Devo Bhavah