To the ten-years-ago self

 [End of October 2010] Your six week stay in London just came to an end. You are on your way back to Singapore and you are not looking forward to it. However you feel quite fortunate to start your career with a cushy job in a cushy place. 

- Little do you know that you will be overcome by lassitude in just a couple of years. A growing dissatisfaction with work will force you to consider alternate career paths. The idea of an MBA or continuing in banking sector sounds safe but rather unappealing. You will apply for a grad program but fail. A growing sense of uncertainty will overwhelm you, and eventually haunt you for most of your 20s. You will waste the next 5-6 years switching career paths and starting from scratch every time.

+ You have started running longer, faster and more often. For the next five years you will run a lot and write about it a lot. After about four years you will hit your (running) peak and achieve some of your running goals. After turning thirty you will start focusing on bodyweight workout and at around thirty two hit the peak of your fitness.

 + The monotony of living in Singapore will force you to travel to nearby countries in South East Asia. It will rekindle your love of mountains and hiking. Most of your happy memories for the time being are going to be associated with it. This is going to play a significant factor in deciding where you want to base yourself next.

- You have gained reputation as a loner. You enjoy spending time alone but at times suffer from bouts of loneliness. Over the next ten years these occasional bouts are going to devolve into an overbearing feeling of loneliness which will torment you constantly. Currently a long run or an intense workout makes you feel better but none of it is going to work out in future. Nothing else will work either - dating, relationships, increased social participation. You will try many a thing to get rid of it but will eventually submit to it and start to learn how to live with it. 

+ Some people you will meet just for a few hours or days will leave strong impressions on you. Especially meeting S and K in Seoul. When you meet them in Seoul, you will have absolutely no idea that you will meet K again on the other side of the world after a couple of years. 

+ Most of your pleasant memories are currently associated with places or things, not people. This is going to change. You will meet some beautiful souls along the way who will bring much needed fondness in your life and memories.

Personal life

- There are two kinds of feelings you are largely unaware of. But they will become an inextricable part of your life. Feelings of regret and loss. 

- You have a tenuous relationship with your parents but nothing of major concern. You harbor an optimism that one day the lingering issues will disappear and you will be able create a strong bond with them. However over the next ten years this relationship is going to degrade in the way you feared but did not expect. It is going to take a severe toll on your mental health. But you will also strengthen certain aspects of your bonds with family in ways you never expected. In the end things will more or less fall in place.

Overall

+ You will quit this job after about three years under and set out traveling. Little can you image you will end up in a place so vastly different and suited to almost everything you would want. You will invest significant time and money in an endeavor of learning a new language. At this point your life will veer to a completely different direction and you will more or less find yourself settled in terms of location and career path.

Buckle up!

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So long 2019

A summary of highlights of 2019 reads pretty optimistic on surface level: this year I did my first muscle-up, set up the website I'd been planning for a while and experimented with organizing meet-ups.

The year actually began on a rather low note and the first few months have few scattered moments worth remembering. It came with a realization of a possibly lifelong struggle to deal with loss and loneliness.

Many months ago I wrote this note which now, ironically, carries a therapeutic overtone:

How does one shake off this ominous feeling of presentiment of an impending doom? The feeling of living under a ramshackle roof where every now and then you can hear another slip or a crack. Every instance stirs up a vision that one day the roof will collapse on you. 

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However, the year also marked some amazing multiple-day hikes in Taiwan, in particular the one to Qilai East Ridge. It is one of the most stunning hikes I have done. And watching Sambar deer in the wild was an amazing experience.

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It also marked a significant jump in my fitness level. Doing a muscle up had been on my list for years and I felt elated the first time I did it. A minor shoulder dislocation hampered the progress but while I am still nursing the injured shoulder, I still try it once in a while to keep the muscle memory intact. 

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While rewarding physically, I miserably failed on the emotional front. Latent feelings of disconnect with people and an inability to forge strong relationships resurfaced. As much as I am aware of their falsehood, I have pretty much resigned to an occasional backsliding into negative emotions.

I can only hope that the next year brings a little more joy. So long 2019.

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The Streets of Taipei [Series: Incomplete blogs]

There was nothing peculiar about that evening when the rain came lashing down. I wouldn't have gone out but I had to. Grudgingly I left home; I walked along the edge of the street barely keeping myself under the shelter of pattering tin sheets.

I am reminded of a random night in Causeway Bay, Hong Kong when I was cornered by a sudden downpour. I vividly remember the almost instant bloom of umbrellas followed by hurried footfalls. It was a weird place - I could never understand how their individuality interfaced with the society. It was loud, it was claustrophobic; yet nobody seemed to have any willingness to talk to each other.

I was in the MRT now, bound to 劍南路站。When it rained, the streets of Taipei looked like stills from a Wong-kar Wai movie. Colorful neon boards jutting out from lackluster buildings reflected off wet roads. Smoke wafting from roadside food-stalls dissolved into the droplets of water dripping off tin sheets. The road was covered with a series of reflections of headlights and streetlamps.

There was a sweet charm in getting lost in the narrow tortuous alleys of this city. The city had pockets of old neighborhoods interlaced with narrow lanes and flanked by dull facades of 公寓. These neighborhoods were the best part of this city. Every morning a swarm of chirpy little breakfast places took birth in random parts of all streets. These breakfast stalls would disappear gradually before afternoon or sometimes evening.

I reached 劍南路站。It had stopped raining and the sky had cleared up. The air smelled of earthy freshness. This place was teeming with swanky malls and upscale showrooms. A mountain guarded the view on the other side. I handed over some stuff to my friend. My next destination was 輔大 located in extreme west part of New Taipei City. I had recently started going to a bouldering gym there.

The neighborhood around 輔大 was pretty much dead in nature. Once you veered away from the highway, all noises disappeared into the stillness that reigned the place. There were no 公寓s, no cozy stalls or night markets. It was a string of large warehouses and small factories - the kind of place that seemed to lack charm.

There were unremarkable turns with badly marked addresses between badly lit, poorly managed warehouses. I took one of those turns, dodging a small pool of water and walked toward a big building with tin walls. The wonky walls of its interior were speckled with motleyed blocks. That was my place.

It was just this little place in middle of nowhere that made me love the entire neighborhood. It was as if the charm of this place was intensified by the lack of it outside. I made numerous trips to this place. I got hooked to it.

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Cycling around Taiwan - 台灣環島 [Series: Incomplete blogs]

At about eight in the morning I left Taipei with a small backpack on my bike. Thirty minutes later, still in Taipei, I bought a helmet and a raincoat. That's all I needed for the trip. Then I cycled all the way out of the city.

I felt the freedom to move at my own pace and stop at my own will, the lightness of being in motion and the dopamine kicks of physical exertion. It was a very liberating feeling living an unrestrained yet minimalist way of life. I set out with keen senses and constant excitement.

That's how actually day one began. It however ended with anti-climactic feelings of physical exhaustion and slight disappointment with a lack of scenery as I was greeted with a string of dull townships and mundane human settlements. I rested in Miaoli (苗栗), a town located in the foothills of western Taiwan.

Sanyi (三義) is one of those towns where you can spend a lot of time doing nothing on a sunny day. The charm in its simplicity had a soothing effect. The old railway station shone proudly in the sunshine. There was just a lady with her kid waiting inside. This was in sharp contrast to the unending row of concrete erections that put me down on day one.

The best part of day one was a small detour along the western coast near Hsinzhu (新竹). I spotted windmills swirling elegantly by the sea against the backdrop of a setting sun. I watched the crisply defined silhouettes of their blades slashing the cerise rays of the sun. Their long shadows spanned the entire width of the highway.

A long, uninterrupted downslope about 5 km in length gets you to Houli (后里) from Sanyi. Floating effortlessly for such a long distance became one of the highlights of this trip.

I slept over in Taichong (台中) and Tainan (台南) - two lovely cities where I found some kind people to host me. The next day I biked to Xinzuoying (新左營) and took a train ride to Taitung (台東). A shitty weather greeted me and after a futile attempt to sleep in an open shelter, I resumed biking again.

The east coast of Taiwan is breath-taking. Every few kilometers there's a sheltered spot which offers stunning views of the ocean and the mountains. 

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HK 2016 | My Tribe | Estrangement

In my maiden trip to HK this year, I happened to experience a more local, and comfortable, side of HK. During earlier trips, HK had been an off-putting experience due to a combination of bad weather, cold people and claustrophobic cityscape. I stayed with a close friend of mine and, on my last day there, met a couple of other good friends with whom I share some good memories of my time in Singapore. There were either long discussions of common friends or passing references to people I barely knew.

These were the people of my tribe - people with similar backgrounds who went on to do further studies and were comfortably settled in their newfound career paths. I forknew a lingering feeling of estrangement as we gathered. Their social fabric was mostly colored with their workplace experiences and their actions leading to a certainty of future. I had little to contribute. I have been trying to dispel the clouds of uncertainty as I grapple with an unprecedented financial crunch. As I have mentioned earlier, the gutsiness to embrace uncertainty has more or less gone (ref: Priorities Backslide). 

Richness of a lifestyle lies not just in soaking in new experiences, but also in using them to create something that reduces disorder (ref: Thinking Dangerously). 

I have done well with the former part but have been struggling with the latter part. 

Creating is much more complex than learning. While learning is an individual experience, creation is typically an outcome of a concerted effort of many.

While in HK, it was for the first time that I spent some time thinking about the amount of planning that must have gone while building this city. It’s intricate network of roads settles harmoniously in little gaps between towering buildings. I’ve never seen a traffic jam here. There’s lots of energy in certain neighborhoods. But it also smacks of an unwelcoming alienation. I still don’t understand the people here, and probably never will. 

I miss certain aspects of my friendships I seem to have lost over the time. I almost never share my experiences of an itinerant lifestyle with anyone. An ever thickening and ever softening financial cushion seems to be the sole driving factor for most people. I had a friend with whom I could discuss the trappings of our lifestyles. He was much more focused, intense and likeable than me. He severed all ties with some of us about a year ago. 

What I want to do in addition to what I mentioned in Priorities Backslide:

• Spend some more time in East Asia.
• Build a social construct to enable implementation of a few of my ideas.
• Earn money

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With an Amei Family 「跟一個阿美家」

During the Chinese New Year break, 2016 I got a chance a spend a day with a family living along the east coast south of Hualien.

If you have traveled along the east coast, you know what I am talking about. There are houses scattered along the coast facing the deep blue Pacific. Not being part of a congested Taiwanese township, they occupy a liberal amount of space. The family I visited lived in one such house in the middle of nowhere. It was a single-story fronted by a large porch and a garden.  There was another garden on its lateral side. On the other side stood the house of their only neighbor.

An infectious openness pervaded the house. A delicate sense of privacy could be detected in few matters. Being CNY, almost all the family members had gathered at one place. I was handed a bike to explore the vicinity. The bike didn't have a lock. It didn't matter.

I came back around three in the afternoon. Soon I joined a group of men sitting out in the porch. They  were friendly, and had little inhibition while expressing themselves or talking to me. They'd pass around a bottle of 小米酒 and munch on nuts while talking. They were loud, they were hilarious. 

Their stories had an elemental freshness; they didn't have many contextual or cultural overtones. Their interaction wasn't delimited by social niceties or shaped by formality. It took little effort to connect to them.

As it got dark, the sea in front us disappeared behind the glow of streetlights. One could still feel the vastness of it as it dissolved cacophony of tiny human settlements into its roaring bosom. The evening and the night involved consumption of copious amounts of alcohol and food. Loud guffaws of laughter occasionally tore into the stillness of the dark. Unconcerned by statutes of an urban society, in the lap of nature, surrounded by people I didn't know a day ago, I don't remember the last time I felt so liberating.

過年時我遇到一位住在東岸的人。他邀請我來他家一起吃飯。

台灣的東岸有幾個零散的面對海的房子。他們不屬於一個擁擠的鄉鎮，而是位於開闊空間。我拜訪的那個大片房子也是這種的。在個大的前廊前面有個菜園。他一邊有另外一個菜園，一邊有唯一鄰居的家。

房子裡瀰漫著開放性。他們平凡的生活裡難以感覺到隱私的元素。因過年而家人都來聚集。我朋友給我一個腳踏車探索鄰區。那台腳踏車不能鎖起來。沒有人在乎。

我三點回來再加入坐在前廊的人。他們又熱情又直言不諱。他們一邊吃小吃，一邊從寶特瓶輪流的和小米酒。他們相當搞笑。他們講的故事有簡易性的感覺，沒有任何以文化為複雜的元素。他們的話題不是以應酬為範圍限制的。雖然我完全不了解他們的背景或是文化，我輕易的跟他們連結。

日落後海洋路燈的光芒後黑暗中消失了。你以驚濤咆哮的聲音與其他聲音的缺席中還是會感覺到海洋的出席。哪一個晚上大家都酗酒宴飲。偶爾哄笑的聲音會撕破黑暗的沉寂。那一晚上我對當時本人生活的情況完全無動於衷。在大自然的懷抱裡，跟前一天完全不認識的人中，我陶醉在剛發現的解放了。

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Days in Laos: Creeping along the Thai Border

Thakkaek:

"Thailand is so close from this city. You just need to cross the river. Have you ever been there?"

"O yes, many times", the boy at the hostel said excitedly, "A lot of people cross the river and sneak into Thailand. It has more jobs."

"Did you enter legally or did you also sneak into Thailand secretly?"

"I don't have passport. I crossed the border on a boat. I worked in Nakhom Phanom in a shop for a couple of months, then I came back."

I wanted to ask him so many questions about the whole process of going back and forth. 

Then we started discussing the situation of drugs and stuff in Laos.

"Most people go to Thailand to sell drugs there."

"What if you are caught?"

"The police will beat you and put you in jail. But if you are caught without drugs, the police will beat you up and send you back to Laos."

Another guy came to us with the room keys. Knackered and spiritless, I left for my room. Our conversation ended there. 

I reached Thakkaek at night after an interminable journey. While having dinner along riverside, I saw Thailand for the first time. It was right there across the river. Its streets were lined with street lamps, and cars zinged on its roads. The sight of the city instantly incited in me an urge to visit there and spend some time in basic luxuries of the place. I quelled my impulsive desire to cross the border and headed to Pakse - a beautiful place nestled in the hills of Bolaven Plateau.

Pakse:

Pakse was an absolute delight. I found a newly built hostel which has marvelous rooms at dirt cheap price. I was the only one staying in the whole hostel. Apart from traveling, I did a lot of reading here. 

It was in Pakse did I realize that I could not enter Thailand overland when I was deported back into Laos. My re-entry back in Laos was smoother than the exit. My exit stamp was repealed and I even got my exit fee back! At this point I was really itching for some city life. 

I found an Indian restaurant with an Indian owner here. For days, I just had Indian food which made my life even more comfortable. The owner came from Chennai but could speak fluent Hindi. He had spent nineteen years in Laos. He had two sons who had been brought up in Laos itself. He seemed to have mingled comfortably with the local populace. His dad had come to Vietnam long ago and opened a restaurant there. He then decided to do the same in Laos.

After having given up on an almost improbable trip, I decided to go to Savannakhet, the nearest border town from Pakse.

Savannakhet:

I originally came to Savannakhet to apply for Thai visa since I was not given a visa on arrival (so much for holding an Indian passport). I realized getting a Thai visa was even less economical than taking a flight to BKK. I liked Savannakhet since it had its name derived from Sanskrit (Suvarna-Khet, meaning golden land). It was an extraordinarily dull city. It had a marvelous riverside which was the highlight of the place.

Savannakhet is probably the second biggest city in Laos after Vientiane. The riverside had a few tourist attractions which I had totally given up on. A few people could speak French due to its history. They formed the richer upper class in the communist Laos. 

I liked going to a cozy, relatively posh cafe near my place owned by a Laotian couple who could speak English and French fluently. They used to remind me of an old man I met in Luang Prabang. He fled to France during the US-Vietnam war where he raised his kids. All his kids stayed in France, but he came back because of his attachment with Laos. He had a small shop in front of his house which served breakfast. His wife and he apparently lived a comfortable life in that beautiful city. His eyes would gleam with pride and a smile drew contours on his face every time he mentioned his children.

In the end I decided to take a flight to Bangkok reluctantly. If there was some part of Thailand I wanted to see, it was the lesser known edge along the Lao-Thai border. But I missed it due to lack of time and money. 

On my last day in Laos, I walked for an hour to the airport with all my luggage. When I reached the airport, I found it was closed. Except for me, there was no one around, not even security! Nothing was locked, I could even take a walk on the runway if I wanted to. I dumped my luggage and roamed around in parts I wouldn't have been allowed to otherwise.

After about three hours, I left Laos!

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An Italian's attempt for Sapara Pokhara in Nepal

It was another of those gilded winter evenings. A bunch of people, mostly Europeans, snuggled onto a pile of cushions in a sheltered nook of a lakeside restaurant in Pokhara. Puffs of smoke and thumps of percussion filled the air. I saw them as I passed by the place walking along the lake.

On my way back I saw one of the them searching for something in the muck that lined the edge of the lake. She was actually picking plastic bags and other toxic stuff out of the mucky bank. Dressed in a hippie outfit, her body adorned with piercings and a prominent tattoo, she carried on unfazed by the stares of people around. She was Belgian. I lent her a helping hand. With a broad smile, she gave me a large empty plastic bag to collect the trash in.

I steered away from the northern end of the lake where she was, and discovered a few more tourists dirtying themselves in a bid to clean the lake. Apparently they all knew each other. A guy approached me, thanked me for the help and said, "You should get some more Nepali friends of yours." He was Italian.
"I am not Nepali, I am from India", I said.
"Can you speak Nepali?"
"No, but everyone here can speak and understand Hindi.", I said pointing at a big crowd of locals watching in curiosity.

All attempts to make the by-standers join us failed miserably. A little kid who knew me asked me,"आपको सफाई का पैसा मिल रहा है क्या ?" ("Are you being paid for cleaning the place?"). Most people took a defensive stance, claiming they never threw trash into the lake. But no one joined.

The Italian guy was the mastermind behind the act. Back in Italy he taught environmental sciences as a profession.
"We will clean the lake, buy some dustbins and put them all along the lakeside. I plan to visit the municipality and talk to them. We can print 'Sapara Pokhara' (clean Pokhara) everywhere. Can you come with us and talk with the people in municipality?", he said in a distinctive Italian accent.
"Sure, but let's do it this week. I am going back to India the next week."

He gathered a big crowd and began talking to them, trying to explain how important it was to keep the lake clean and the environment healthy. As corny as it may sound, most people got defensive and began explaining themselves.

A week later, on my way to Sunauli in India I saw him in the bus again. He had probably given up on the people of Pokhara. I lost him at the border but ran into him again in Gorakhpur after a couple of hours. He was haggling with a ticket agent over a ticket to Varanasi. His notion of Varanasi was a haven of spirituality, religious piety and peace.

He left for Varanasi that night. Phewa Lake in Pokhara is A LOT cleaner than the holy river Ganges in Varanasi. I wonder how he reacted to the ground reality of the holy town and its holier river.

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我眼中的反服貿運動 - Taiwan Sunflower Movement: A Unique Spectacle

這篇文章不討論政府的條約。這就是我眼中的被學生主辦抗議簡述。身為一個外國人我得分享這件事。

This post isn't about the contentious pact between Taiwan and China. It's rather parochial in outlook - it focuses mainly on how the students pulled off a strike that left me impressed. 

If you don't know what I am talking about, read this. 

The strike was primarily organized by students coming from various universities across the country. Marked by elements of ingenuity, technical innovation and efficiency, it was the most evolved form of strike I have ever seen or heard of.

Makeshift tents and the protesters 

OB Vans and makeshift tents lined up 青島東路 (Qingdao East Rd). Bootstrapped stalls holding items of daily use arrayed after the OB vans. The area occupied for the protests ended with a row of portable toilets. All of this was interjected with posters, novelties and knickknacks defending democracy and ridiculing Taiwan's president Ma Jeou.

Inside the gates of Legislative Yuan (LY) was a makeshift tent with medical assistance for the needy. For sake of solidarity, passers-by were requested not to take pics of the place. There was another stall on 濟南路一段 (Jinan Rd) offering counselling and other services to those in need of help with psychological problems. At the end was a stall being set up to provide information and services for getting to Taipei from other cities in the country.

On the left at the entrance of Qingdao East Rd was a stall where students could get help with their school assignments and homework. There was a board listing the subjects one could help with.

Top: Placards advertising the availability of free showers.
Center: 課輔教室 (Supplementary lesson teaching unit)
Bottom: Massage for the needy (not sure if it was free)

There were stages set up for people to give speeches and screens erected for projecting videos. Most of the space on the road was occupied by the protesters who peacefully kept on with their usual chores. The big screens often played a live telecast of the happenings inside Legislative Yuan (LY) using simple P2P mobile apps.

The content played on smaller screens was a miscellany of movies related to historic revolutions, short films expounding terms like democracy and freedom, documentaries on past cover-ups of government or on ancient heroes and so on.

At one of the intersections a stall was set up to charge cell phone batteries. A person who wanted to get his phone charged was given a token number to serve as a unique identity. Huddled in a corner was a bunch of routers. One of the students informed me that they had come from Japan as a token of appreciation after Taiwan offered them help when it was hit by Tsunami.

Top: A FarEastZone Vehicle with outfitted with
routers to make wifi available in the area.
Bottom: The tech team hidden in a nook. 

Free WiFi was available in the whole area. A tech based NGO volunteered to set up a network and take care of the wherewithal needed to establish and maintain proper communication with the people inside LY. The team was hidden from public view and the visitors were not allowed to visit the place. I kind of felt sorry for the programmers there for not getting the much needed social participation.

The protest was not getting the much needed exposure and in some cases was shown in a bad light. A group of protesters then came up with a website of their own - 4am.tw where they put forth their point of view replete with photos, videos and links to other articles.

Pylons and ribbons demarcated the area to be used by pedestrians. At the periphery of the protest area volunteers made sure that the traffic was diverted smoothly. The people liaised with a few hotels who offered free showers to the people staying there. The location was kept undisclosed to the public.

Top: Students protesting
Middle: Students hanging out
Bottom: Free coffee for everyone

Taiwanese people got a few things damn right - even in the wake of an extreme situation like this they were sensible enough not to suspend the basic attributes of safety and cleanliness. And they were smart enough to implement things in an efficient manner. Every small piece of litter was disposed of. The whole area remained packed with people all the time. In spite of the overwhelming crowd there was absolute lack of dirtiness and bedlam. 

Trash cans for each type of garbage.
Cleanliness was one thing NOT ignored during the whole protest

The whole area was abuzz with various kinds of activities and had buoyancy similar to that of a fest. People unleashed their creativity on posters, tee-shirts, banners, little crafts and simple contraptions. 

Jinan Rd primarily served stage-shows, live performances and other art related events in the backdrop of the protest. There were coffee stalls serving free coffee. This road had a lesser footfall than Qingdao East Rd.


I can go on describing the multitude of activities that went on there and how well the whole thing was organized. As much as I was supporting their cause, I also had my own set of reasons to spend most of my time there. The place had a lot of things that kept me ticking - constant buzz, a warm presence of people around, all the basic means to get by and a concourse indulging in expression of their selves in various forms. I loved talking to the people there, and they loved talking to me. My newfound room was dull and depressing. I haven't anyway ever spent a lot of time indoors.

Some of the posters
covering the walls

On my second last visit to the place I saw a woman sitting on a bootstrapped bedding with her son. While talking to me she told me she was a teacher in Taichung, and that she used to come every weekend to Taipei to support the students. Everyone in her school had been discouraged from supporting the protest but she had openly stepped forward and made her stance clear. I asked whether her little son knew about what was going on. She replied, "He knows. He is witnessing history."

That night I was happily given a plastic mattress and a thin blanket after I told them I wanted to sleep there. I found a spot near the entrance to Qingdao East Rd under a tree. There was a bunch of girls just down the footpath who had come from Kaosiung. The protesters tried to continue the activities throughout the night but in a much quieter way. There was a big screen playing some movie a few meters away from me. A few hours into the night the volume was turned down.

Top: People drying their clothes in the open.
Bottom: One of the makeshift shops having the wherewithal for overnight stays

I woke up at five in the morning. I wrapped my bedding and as I began to proceed to a counter to return it, a homeless woman came to me and asked me for the bedding.

A week later, the protest was called off. The event got floppy media coverage from international community but it was an unprecedented event in recent history of Taiwan. What puzzles and amazes me is that the people driving the protest had never seen any form of unrest in the country before. They haven't had any encounter with violence or chaos. Probably that's what gave this whole protest the much refreshing elements of technocratic supremacy and pacific execution.

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A Chronicle of Running

Constant downpour and glum weather had frazzled me badly. I can't stress it enough - I _need_ to be outdoors to keep my spirits up and senses ticking, and that's exactly what I couldn't do in this weather. Fortunately, the sky grudgingly offered some sunshine over the weekend. And I did what I do best - go running outdoors. 

I ran along the riverside for the first time - it's a gorgeous stretch of parks, meadows and lush foliage on one side. The opposite side offers sweeping views of 新北市 and of mountains girding the city. Pumped up, I ran faster and longer than usual with a couple of stops in between and very proudly ended up with sore calves.

I am no great runner, but I can run much faster now than I did nine months ago when I left Singapore. And I made most of my progress in the past two to three months, thanks to the cold weather.

My first run in the post-employment itinerant phase was in Seoul. I participated in a free 10 km running event organized by Seoul Flyers. The location was a well paved riverfront along Han river. It was spring in full bloom, and the entire run was as smooth and calming as morning breeze. It took me an effortless forty five minutes, but later in the day my latent IT band injury resurfaced, and I limped badly for the next two days.

During the three weeks I spent in Laos, I went running just one day. It was different world, and I was more in awe of the place than usual. I spent some of the most intense, and some of the laziest days there. The day I went running in Nong Khiaow I had to constantly dodge vehicles on the road, and when I agreed to put up with that mild annoyance I was chased by a bunch of xenophobic canines. So much for a run.

Thailand was a big flop. I had a presentiment of it being banally touristy, and it came true. I recoiled in Bangkok, and spent time touring lavish malls of Sukhumvit and reading in spare time. Koh Samui was much nicer and it had the much needed space and nature. After weeks of torpidity, I swam in the choppy water and then ran on the beach barefoot. It was nothing less than a transporting experience, and it was one of the few memorable experiences I had in Thailand. This was Lamai beach, I tried running again at Bophut or BangRak beach, but it turned out to be too rocky to run. In spite of all the tawdry commercialization, the beaches in Thailand are heavenly!

Xiamen is a coastal city renowned for its university and its marathon. It's unlike any other city I have been to in China, and its neighborhoods resemble Taiwan more than China. It has a LOOONG stretch of beach that starts from 下大 which has been very efficiently decorated. The concrete pavement is meters away from the water, and sits on an elevated land. That's where I ran. And after a long time did I run for more than an hour. 

All these running drills were sporadic and non-incremental. Then came a phase of two months or more when I hardly ran. A big jump then came in November when I went to Nepal.

Nepal is the only place other than Laos where I spent days in a different state of mind. I spent a month in a mountain town nestled among giant hills. In this one month I tried my best to eradicate all randomness from my schedule, and took incremental steps for my fitness and career both. I used to go running early morning in the biting cold on a fixed path that ran along a scenic lake for a fixed distance. My run ended on top of a small hill that overlooked the lake, the town and a landing spot for para-gliders wafting gracefully in the air. On weekends, I used to hike up a mountain, trying to go as fast as possible. This was the month when my fitness went up a notch. I spent a long time working out, and I was totally enjoying the intensity of my lifestyle.

While I tick 'running 5k in less than 20 mins' off my list, I jot down new goals. I go running in a stadium nearby, and usually it stays as the highlight of the day. Currently my progress is highly incremental in nature, and I guess it will take a while before I hit another plateau. It just compounds the kick I get out of running including the little quanta of joy I feel while writing about it.

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Of Winters and Mediocrity

The last thing I wanted to think about was myself.

I hated white noise, the constant drone of which eerily used to scare me. That's why I loved winters - it cloaked all bits of white noise. The stunned silence enhanced the visual imagery created by puffs of mist seen through glass windows made fuzzy with morning dew.

This trip was a sweet revisit to my past. Those irrational paroxysms of energy were back. I would be woken up again in middle of the night by frisson tingling my nerves, and an urge to do something, anything. The biting winter kept that urge in check. Only this time, it came with the realization of my mediocrity.

My not-so-recent history is largely devoid of interactive elements. There lies no mention of social validation, memorable moments, intimate confessions, pep talks or adolescent curiosity. All I remember is the intensity of things. The last thing I wanted to think about was myself. I sought comfort through vicarious means. This was the comfort I felt in the mild susurrus of people's voices.

Like everyone else, I wanted to escape mediocrity. I spent years in high hopes of accomplishing the same. What was it that made masterminds so smart? Maybe they had different neural pathways in their brains. Maybe they had a higher number of active neurons. Maybe they had an extremely efficient feedback learning system that honed their mental acumen every time they evaluated something. The brain, as they say, is plastic. It can be molded. An immediate about-face of perspectives is possible, and a gradual one can be executed successfully.

I grew up to realize I was merely an aberration, that odd glitch in a smooth graph. I wasn't ahead of the curve, but behind it. We lacked the incisive insight of savants, but filled the void with rich experiences and consumption of knowledge. We deluded ourselves with exaggerated positive self-evaluation, and sought validation from our social circle. That's how we dealt with the harsh truth that our lives were engulfed in ineluctable mediocrity.

There was something soothing in the chattering sound of burning wood. The flickering flames of fire were similar to darkness. There was nothing to focus on - everything was amorphous. That's what made it so comforting.

I loved winters for various reasons. My body responded to physical exertions better and faster. I could think clearly. I gained more from my high BMR and suffered less. I had almost forgotten the uncanny feeling of going for a run before sunrise, and watching my shadow quiver in the thick pellets of fog suspended in air whenever a vehicle whizzed past. I loved watching my fingers go numb by gusts of chilly wind. In moments of such extremities, in kicks of dopamine and thrills of adrenaline, maybe I got a taste of how it felt like not being a mediocre. Maybe.

So much for a middling life. 

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A night in Hualien

"So your brother worked in India? What does he think of it?" I asked her.

"Umm.. nice, but he told me the people are lazy" said she, "...they would stop working many times."

She was trying to recall a word. I made a guess and showed her the Chinese character for the verb "to go on a strike" on my phone. Her face blossomed into a smile as she said "yes yes .. strike. They would do this many times." I was pleasantly surprised to find someone near fluent in English in the town.

"Well he must have worked in public sector. Most people there are lazy. In private sector, people work very hard", I tried to explain.

She was nearing forty. I asked her why she was still unmarried. She muttered something, but midway her explanation her eyes welled up with tears. I felt bad and stupid. I thought of consoling her but found it much easier to pretend I didn't notice anything. I casually veered the conversation to a lighter topic. I took a few pictures insider her shop and said good bye to her. She didn't seem sad any longer. My heart felt lighter. I left. 

It was around half past nine, and I walked through the cross section of the city towards the railway station.

The station opened to a vast open area with a few benches. It was ten in the night. 

"I am in SWAT. It's in police", he said in broken English. He was fit, and displayed impressive agility and skill as he performed tricks on his mini-bike. The conversation soon began to take place in Mandarin. 

"Is it the same as Wei-an?" I asked

"No, Wei-an is high level. It's in Taipei. SWAT is low level."

"Taiwan is very safe. Do you like your job?" I oversimplified my question to fit it in my limited grasp of Mandarin.

"Some people have handguns. We have to stop them", he replied using the same tone of simplicity.

"What do they do with handguns? They don't rob here", I asked, resorting to use of body language for the latter part.

"They smuggle handguns and drugs..they take drugs, handguns for safety... where do you live?"

"I am going to Taipei tomorrow at 6 am. So I will spend the night here at the station."

"Why don't you go to a hotel? Not very expensive."

I said, "I want to see how it's like. And I want to save a little money." I pointed at his mini bike and said, "Can I try?"

As soon as I stood up to get on the bike, everyone around began looking at me. A lazy stray dog who had been lounging around indifferently sprang up with pointed ears to look at the expected antics of a foreigner. It even howled and a couple of its friends came running from across the road wagging their tails to watch what I was up to.
He taught me two simple tricks. I bungled twice. They practiced for a few more minutes and then they left.

It was half past mid-night. I ambled around the station. I walked past the open area into a small park. I looked around. I spotted him again. I walked towards him and said, "Why are you following me? What do you want?"
"I am sorry if I scared you. I want to speak English with a foreigner.", he said in a meek tone.
"Not now. I want to sleep somewhere. And you are scaring me by following me. Go away please." He left.

I was lying on a bench. A group of homeless people had huddled around a bench a few meters away. One of them saw me and, wondering why one of them was left out, walked to me. He was a little startled to discover I was a waiguoren. I told him I needed to take a train early morning. He gave me a thumbs up and left.

I bought a bottle of water and sat on a chair. Eventually I fell asleep for a few hours.

I was woken up by the first rays of the sun. I came out of the station. The mountains behind the station shone in the fresh sunlight. They looked gorgeous. I took a stroll till it was six. At 6:05 I went to a bike rental shop. The guy had been waiting for me.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked.
"I could barely sleep. But it was a little chilly and windy. I love windy nights. So I had fun. These mountains look beautiful"
"Yes, many people come here to travel."
"I would love to live here."
We shared a laugh. He pointed at my backpack "That's your bag."
"Thanks so much. It would have been very difficult to spend the night outdoors with such a heavy bag."
"Bu hui" he said.

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Northern Laos - Mekong and the mountains

Those rivers were more than just masses of flowing water, and those mountains were more than just inanimate limestone erections.

It was beauty in its most rugged form, untouched by placid strokes of nature and unharmed by human civilization. It didn't have the smoothness of those sloping hills covered with rows of pines. It's creation was planned by disorder and shaped by chaos.

I took a boat ride from Nong Khiaow to Muang Ngoi - both sleepy touristy villages snuggled in lush green foothills of giant mountains. I could only watch in awe the towering mountains as our boat paced irregularly on the choppy waters of Nam Ou. The chugging sound of engine echoed in the mountains that flanked the river.

Sunset as seen from Muang Ngoi

Mountains near Nong Khaiow

The landscape did more than just holding you in awe. It piqued your curiosity and triggered your imagination. The mountains were riddled with caves and covered with forests. It insulated from our mundane existence a hidden world full of deep dark secrets. It was a world where sprites dwelled and dervishes danced, where wisents still grazed and humans still hunted. Whatever there was beneath those trees or inside those caves, it was something that could only be seen in figments of your imagination.

Stalwart peaks inVang Vieng, There are numerous caves and creeks inside.

A brook near one of the caves

I kayaked in Nam Song the shores of which serve the town of Vang Vieng. Mountains here weren't as dense as in the north. Vast plains separated the vertical cliffs but their magnificence didn't diminish against the distance. These mountains were riddled with numerous caves, many of them massive. Most caves had a rivulet in proximity where it was possible to swim. At many points the banks of the Nam Song were several feet higher than the water level which tunneled your vision. It was a cloudy day. All I could see was the weak currents of river and cloud capped cliffs.

View from one of the rooms I stayed in, Vang Vieng

When I was in Luang Prabang, I spent all of the evenings walking/sitting along the banks of Mekong. The river sprawled wide in Luang Prabang. Its immutable flow of water made no sound. A few minutes after sunset darkness gobbled up the whole river. Green mountains turned into dark silhouettes. Faint lights from obscure houses on the mountains shone like sequins on a dark cloth. Mellow buffets of wind caressed the water which made the reflection of those lights quiver on the surface. Time came to a standstill. There was nothing to worry about, no past grudges, no future commitments. 

Things were more than just physical things. I was more than just a human being. Those rivers were more than just rivers. Those mountains were more than just mountains.

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Southern Laos - pockets of nothingness while in transit

[Rather than detailing a spectacular view or an unforgettable activity, this is an attempt to share my experience of transiting between two places while traveling in Laos. It's certainly not as glamorous as bountiful descriptions of well known touristy hotspots but it deserves a place somewhere as it occupies a lot of your travel time and more often than not gives you a better toehold on local life.]

The mountains have vanished and the landscape outside is a constant drone of level land. Hot and sunny weather intensifies the humdrum of journey. I am traveling from Thakkaek to Pakse, a distance of two hundred kms which will be covered in eight painstaking hours. Three days ago I had arrived in Vientiane - arguably the dullest country capital in the world, to apply for Chinese visa in the embassy there. In the morning I had decided to move to a cleaner and better hostel; in the next two hours I was sitting in a bus bound to Thakkaek. An hour was enough to check out the flight prices, sketch a new itinerary to visit China and Taiwan, and get out of Vientiane as soon as possible. 

Thakkaek: Skimming the web about this place gives you an idea how unremarkable the place is. It's upshot is lack of cheap and clean places to stay, but the situation turned out to be grimmer than expected. With a few other tourists, I went to this particular guesthouse a little out of the town. Shaking our heads disappointedly we left the place to find something better in the town, only to come back after a couple of hours, tired and battered. The receptionist pointed at us and laughed hard before he let us in. 

The town is situated on the bank of river Mekong, and riverside is a beautiful place to spend evenings and nights. While we were having dinner on the riverside, the city on the other side of the river looked brighter, busier and well constructed. We later realized it's Thailand (Nakhon Phanom to be precise, formerly a part of Lao). For a long stretch Mekong acts as a border between Thailand and Laos. As I expected, intrusion into Thailand from Laos is very common. A local guy sitting at the reception recounted some interesting incidents of the frequent incursion. People carrying cheaply obtained weed wade across the river and slip into Thailand where it's sold at a higher price. Intruders are occasionally caught and sent back to Laos after getting a nasty beating on their patootie and paying a bribe. If they are caught with narcotics, they're (unsurprisingly) jailed. Dissembling as a Thai, the guy himself had worked illegally in Thailand for six months.

Thakkaek acts as a base for the Motorcycle loop and Kong Lor cave. Like Vietnam, traveling from A to B in Laos is expensive and tedious. So I quelled my desire to visit the magnificent cave and decided to go cross over to Thailand the next morning. 

The next morning: I am in a bus bound to Pakse, a big city (by Laotian standard) which acts as a base for exploring Bolaven plateau. Shelving my plan to leave Laos, I decided early morning to cross the border from Pakse after visiting much praised Bolaven plateau. Southern Laos is less craggy than Northern Laos and while a few places might possess staggering beauty, traveling across cities doesn't offer sweeping views of landscapes. So here I am, witnessing a prosaic countryside sitting in a bus driven by a person who is not intent on arriving at the destination at all. He doesn't hesitate to stop at every other bend or shop, and the bus trundles down the road most unwillingly.

Laos is a small country but with ill-equipped and limited transportation, journeys consume a lot of your time. And in my experience, you meet more people during traveling than you meet staying in a hostel. A  vast majority of travelers are European/American students who have graduated. It doesn't happen very often but I feel a quick connection when I meet someone who also quit his/her job to take a break from work. And even less frequent is when you meet someone with whom you can have a conversation that goes deeper than just sharing itineraries and exchanging extended introductions. And it's a delightful detour from the generalized idea of backpacking when it happens. 

Pakse: I get off the tuktuk in Pakse and the first thing I spot is an Indian food restaurant. I have come to believe there exists no place on earth that is touted as a tourist hotspot and doesn't serve Indian food. Traffic lights and coffee shops are signs of a well developed place. Mountains can be seen  struggling for existence far away in the backdrop. There's hardly anything to do in the city itself but it has a certain positive vibe and is a good relief from monotony of Vientiane and unremarkable character of Thakkaek. I have found a good room at a reasonable price. 

It's finally begun to rain after a hot and ridiculously humid day. I am going to give a premature ending to this post to enjoy the weather outside. The loamy odor from the first few droplets wetting the ground is too inviting to resist. 

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My Ivory Tower

I would often wake up in middle of the night purely out of excitement - excitement that had lost its cause in obscurity. The feeling was intense - my heart would throb heavily, my body would be taken over by a feeling of sprightly restlessness and I would feel this strong urge to involve myself in some activity. I almost always read a book or began to write something down on a piece of paper. I would calm down after about thirty minutes or occasionally one hour; my circadian rhythm would get back into action and make me sleepy again.

It was a prelude to my bipolarity spreading out to the extremes; and I am so glad it began on a high note. I knew something was slightly abnormal, but the feeling was good and I just let the chips fall where they may. I didn't have a strong social or philosophical bent of mind. My thought process was unilateral - I just did what I liked to do. 

Most of the time I felt as if a thrill of restive energy had shot through my body. It just wouldn't let up. Every single second I was awake, I was constantly in action. I was always learning something new. 

Languages:

I loved learning new languages. I learnt a bit of French from my dad's book 'French Made Easy'. I learnt how to read Russian (and basic Russian greetings). I polished up whatever Kannada I had learnt during my days in Bangalore and picked up a bunch of other Indian languages reading the multilingual leaflets that came with most of PnG or HUL products. I could only read the text in these languages without comprehending anything, but even doing this bit slaked my desire to a certain extent. 

[Ironically, I couldn't continue with either of these languages later on and learnt some totally different languages.]

Ambidexterity:

I was born left-handed, but could always use my right hand better than a right-handed person can use their left hand. After about three years of practice, I had become fairly ambidextrous. I could write, brush my teeth, bowl and do a few other unnoticeable activities using my right hand. This faculty of using hands also exposed me to certain observations I had never noticed before - i) the right shoulder of right handed people is wider. It is clearly evident in case of bowlers who have to use one hand a lot more; ii) right handed people can't turn their neck as far to the left  as they can to their right, and if you catch them sleeping on their stomach their neck will probably be turned to the right.

Fitness:

I loved running in the dark, but my hometown was too unsafe to run alone quite early in the morning or after sunset, so I would practice stair climbs followed by a fixed number of sit-ups in my home (but I totally sucked at running, and my stamina was comparable to that of a crow-bait). I loved football, so the evenings were reserved for honing my dribbling and juggling skills (I was and still am really good at this, but it didn't make me a good player at all FYI). My fitness was very very low, but I was VERY passionate about it. 

[I have made considerable progress on this front in the last couple of years.]

It was at this point that I cultivated a passion for writing, and my appetite to study the coursework whetted considerably. I felt most emotions in extremes. My hobbies were more like my obsessions. Despite living in a constant edgy state of excitement I was extremely disciplined, and my daily schedule was as predictable as clockwork.

Social flop:

My social life was a dismal bust. My involvement with society and friends plummeted rapidly as my indulgence in my own set of activities increased. I was already an unsocial guy and much to the disappointment of my parents it was getting worse day by day. There was days when I barely felt the need to talk to anyone. I was captivated in my own universe full of delusions and ambitions, fueled by tons of raw energy. I always ribbed social conventions, niceties and use of informal chit chat or formal exchange of greetings. It was perhaps this distaste for societal elements that I made my first conscious attempt to escape mediocrity. I (wrongly) thought I had been successful to a certain extent.

Today:

As I mentioned I was a social flop. I had never imagined this single shortcoming would later overshadow all my skills, all my passions and whatever I stood for. Maybe that's an overstatement. But it certainly has to some extent dwarfed the creative side of mine. If I confess, I never thought I would ever feel the urge to become social and outgoing again. I thought life would continue running on a high note, but that phase turned out to be just an extended crest of the sinusoidal ride I had embarked on. 

Nine years on, occasionally overwhelmed by an overdose of foresightedness, confusion, failures, foundering career, competition, proving yourself, lack of direction and most importantly lack of a social life that I now wish for, I very often pine for those days when all I had was an unusual amount of raw energy, leading a life  which was simplified by lack of social wisdom, my blinkered outlook and unhindered focus on what I wanted to do. With my expectations and reality wide asunder, I sometimes hope I could get back into that state of mind again; that I could go back to my ivory tower again.

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Halong Bay

I came out of the bar on upper deck of the ferry and sat on a bench outside. The ferry had been anchored in the middle of nowhere where limestone cliffs jutted out of water all around. It was dark, and the cliffs had assumed a nebulous appearance against the backdrop of pitch darkness. If you squinted hard at the dark backdrop, some distant cliffs would become faintly visible. The only other things visible around were the glimmering lights from far off ferries and twinkling stars spangled in the sky. The only sounds audible were susurrus of the wind and tinkling of the waves.

It was bitterly cold, and I felt like going back into the bar, just like I had gone fifteen minutes earlier. But the ambiance outside was magical. The wind was strong, and lying down on the terrace under the open sky in total darkness gave the best feeling in the world. But due to lack of a warm covering I sat huddled at a corner of the bench.

The bar was brightly lit which spoilt the whole atmosphere. One of our so-called-tour-guides from UK was dancing buck naked in the bar. Almost everyone was soused. They were playing some card game which involved gulping an alcohol shot following by some kind of silly activity as a result of which a couple of other guys were also teetering on verge of nudity. The music was blaring in the background. The playlist was an airheaded collection of cruddy, smutty songs. Majority of tourists inside were students from the west who were in Vietnam to escape the bone-chilling cold of their respective countries on a very small budget. Some of them were evidently not very comfortable with what was going on, but they had conceded to the so called social order and were participating half-heartedly in an activity that very brutally killed the serene atmosphere of the beautiful place.

A little while back, us guys had been divided in small groups and each group was having good fun in their own way until the so-called-tour-guides came, got our attention and one of them dropped his whatever-was-left-of-whatever-had-been-barely-covering-his-patootie. Whatever followed can not be termed fun in any manner that involves sobriety of even the slightest amount. I didn't want to rain on their parade and remained upstage for whatever time I was there in the bar. The girl sitting beside me was also quite nettled by the antics of so-called-tour-guide but was smart enough to blend in discreetly and chatting to her was the only joyful activity I could afford to find in there.

The morning thereafter we were joined by some more tourists who had taken a longer 2D2N tour and had spent their second night on one of the islands. Almost everyone was terribly drunk. Most of them were here  on the extended 'trippy' leg of their journey that began from Laos. It was exact opposite of what I had been looking forward to; I couldn't have witnessed a starker contrast between my expectations and what the trip turned out to be like. Well, the evening before had been quite good in fact - we had had a good lunch, we had jumped into the cold water and pedaled to small cave a little far in kayaks (having rotten perforated plastic) without a life jacket. And then it was a climatic flop of the trip as the sequence of events veered on a switchback and lost all touch with anything related to Halong Bay in particular and sobriety in general.

That morning I met a guy from UK who was as sorely disappointed as I was, and seeing me sitting aloof in one corner, came to me and asked me if I too was as pissed off as he was. It was nice to find someone sensible in the chaotic herd of drunk apes.

Late morning we jumped on to a small boat to get to the shore and after a five hour bus ride I was back in the backpackers I had stayed in the day I landed in Hanoi. I immediately got a bus ticket and was on my way to Hue an hour later. Thus began my adventure in Vietnam :)

[Vietnam was my first solo trip. The tiny country has got fantastic landscapes, natural wonders and other attractions at every step. It's map is marked with UNESCO Heritage Sites all over. It is a thin strip of land so the beach is never far away. The people are super friendly and I have numerous incidents where someone went out of their way to help me. It the second cheapest place I have seen after Cambodia. The communist propaganda occupies every other billboard. I traveled from Hanoi to Saigon taking one bus after another. It was a (not so) cheap but a bad decision - the buses were always late and very uncomfortable and tiring. Since the buses were always late and I had just six days to explore, all my plans went haywire. But the route offers views of some stunning landscapes and the sea. And I had my own set of small interesting incidents which mitigated the monotony of traveling constantly and occasional boredom. The only place I didn't like there was Saigon or HCMC. It's too hot and crowded compared to the calm and charming Hanoi. People have really weak English - in smaller places it's almost comparable to the situation in China. But the use of Roman script for writing saves a lot of effort.

All in all, Vietnam is one of the more interesting and unique places to visit in South East Asia with some of the friendliest people.]

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Last Days in IIT Kharagpur

People seem to have started counting everything - the number of nights they would be sleeping in their rooms, the number of people left in the wing, department and campus, the number of working days left before they leave, the number of items left to do in their to-do list, the space left in newly bought hard disks, the items remaining in their room and all.

For the last two weeks, I have been spending more than a couple of hours daily night doing nothing but sitting, walking, chatting in GG, in the cool balmy zephyr. Most of this is to spend as much fleeting moments together. The silence and darkness there evoke an eerie assortment of nostalgia and fear. Yes, fear.

Right now, my heart is heavy, and an overweening sense of insecurity about the future creeps into my mind at times.

In retrospect it all seems so glorious that I can't imagine a better life. In hindsight, I realize life will never be as social, jovial and interactive as it has been for the last five years.

Nostalgia would be transient, but the thing that really disturbs me is utter lack of such highly rich social life I enjoyed here. Some will chase money, some a degree, and some a job. A few years hence some would marry and life would be a bitch!

I only wish I could cure my tachyphemia while I was still here (instead, the problem got aggravated!). I also wish I could play in the soccer team here. And I wish I could share things I sometimes wanted to with my friends but didn't get an apt occasion.

I hope that's not the end to the best of times my life has to witness, and that there would be even more euphoric moments and longer expansive phases my life will go through. I hope I will meet as versatile and amazing people I met here. I hope at least one of my friends reaches this blog, and gets evocative after reading this. And in the end, I hope I will meet most, if not all, of my friends again in near future with the same warmth and touch.

It's 12:45 am now, a Saturday, 15th May, 2010.

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Days in Delhi: Some bragging on account of being pissed off

[To the utter delight of those sadists and schadenfreudes, I would like to announce that I am, at this point of time, just too pissed off. And to slake my own sadistic desires, I am engaging myself in pissing you off via this disgruntled epilogue. Thanks to my quicksilver temperament, I actually have no reason to be pissed about. And when I am high, I DO LOVE this bipolar nature of mine.]

Summer of '07: One of the happiest summers of my life marked by some truly exciting adventures which follow-
The first one: I went to meet an asshole batchmate of mine. I was not supposed to alight from the bus there, but I decided I would. And then I decided I wouldn't. And it was at this holy moment that virtues of laziness and procrastination dawned upon me. For the first (and prolly last) time I think to alight from the back door (people board the bus from this door and alight from the front one). Now the driver of the bus and myself are competitively procrastinating. And I win. Yes, he drove off the bus before I could alight. And voila, I experience a fall that fleeces off the skin off my knee, with a lill pout of blood smeared on my shirt and torn pant. Two years hence, I still (very proudly) carry the mark of that gratuitous bravado on my knee.

The second one: My last but one week. For those who don't know, a large area of JNU is covered with dense forest and lush verdure. It didn't take me more than a day to discover some short-cuts through that lovely foliage. We (myself and one of my friends) worked (supposedly) in the day and made our report in the night, and then at around 1-2 am I took that verdant path to my hostel in IIT-Delhi. And then it took about two months to hear about a couple of suicides having taken place there. I very proudly evince the complete lack of fear after hearing this. Two days later, I hear about a couple of murders having taken place there. I get myself a runty Natraj knife and again very proudly evince the complete lack of fear after hearing this. Then one night, I passed through the whole jungle all alone, and was climbing the wall to jump over to the other side. Then it happens- as I hold the bars of the locked gate to climb it, a man in uniform passes by in front of me. We share a (surprised and bummer-where did you come from) glance for a moment or two. And then I find myself ensconsed in the deepest cranny of that jungle for a minute or two. Hoping that man to have gone by now, I emerge out furtively, highly prepared to scuttle back in case of any exigency. Luckily, he is gone. As I jump over the wall, cross the road and walk a few steps, a patrol jeep comes flashing its light. This was one of those rarest of the rare moments - I felt lucky - that I didn't jump in front of them. I then walk a few hundred meters more and reach the closed gates of IIT-D. I must admit that I loved this moment - jumping over this 10 foot high wall near the gate. The jump is followed by a few shambled steps to my room. I had a lovely sleep that night.

The third one: I didn't go to my lab and slept in my sweltering room throughout the day. I wake up at 1600 hrs to find myself soaked in sweat. I have no clue what to do now, and in the next 30 minutes I find myself sitting in a bus bound to Noida (yes, I am crazy). I pass some idle hours roving in Shipra mall. At around 2200 hrs, get a bus bound to Delhi. I don't know where to alight, and keep sitting. I get a bit twitchy to find just me in the whole bus. I alight at the lastest stop. It's 0000 hrs now. I have absolutely no clue at which place I am in Delhi. And I can't find even a single soul to ask about the same. Being clueless, I pick the widest and most lightened road and begin trodding. Then a car stops in front of me. I am a bit jumpy now. I guy calls me out. I approach him. Then he asks one of the most stupidest questions I have ever heard. In the middle of nowhere, at about 0030 hrs, he asked me,"Bhaiya, ye Qutub Minar kahan par hai bata sakte hain?" (Can you tell me where Qutub Minar is?) I almost asked him for a snap of his to enrich my assortment of wierdiest humans on this earth.

PS: This was just an overture. As privy is my nature, all I can say that I have never had such a long tenure of exciting days. Won't disclose much.

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Quirky Crackpots

[This post arises from the stark realization - इस धरती पर ऐसे लोग भी हो सकते हैं | This place is blessed with some awesome, quirky, cranky and freaky people with unsolicited and unavoidable bouts of insanity. And hence this post.]

Some clues to the inordinate insanity pervading this place-

Instance 1:
Me (to Pondy): Abe, pata hai *** kya bol raha tha aaj
Pondy: Kya?
Me: Jaisa wo har sem se pehle bolta hai - yaar, is sem mein bahut load tha. Agle sem mein sab theek chala to pakka do teen bandiyon ko thokunga.

Pondy gets excited over the idea, and approaches Baniya anxiously.

Pondy (to Baniya): Abe sun *** kya bol raha tha
Baniya: Kya?
Pondy: Agle sem mein sab theek chala to pakka do din Baniye ko thokunga.
Baniya faints.

Instance 2:
Baniya (at some treat, expressing how staunch a veg he is): Abe us chammach se mat le... main bahut zyada vegetarian hoon.

Instance 3:
(Eve: Baniya's budday (April 1). His ass has been kicked too sore to walk easily.)
Slv: Aaj 1st April hai na.
Me: Haan. Aaj Baniya paida hua tha.
Slv: Haan, tabhi to nahi aaya class aaj.
Pondy: Haan, abhi to chalna bhi nahi aata hoga use.
(I know this is somewhat lame. But looking at it otherwise, it is crazy, particularly when Pondy says it.)

Instance 4:
This time it's me. The grogginess resulting from the stupor (which itself results from from intolerably boring classes) makes my hearing ability skewed. I begin hearing some beautiful things.
Prof: And we can see the image in scanning ... (waiting for students to complete '...electron microscope')
I hear (barely awake): And we can see her image in stunning ...
(My stupor wades off, senses activate. Before the chorus of students, am all awake. And after the chorus, when reality hits me, am all dejected.)

Instance 5:
(Occasion: Project presentation.)
A prof from the panel: What is the basic principle of lyophilizer?
[Let me tell you, lyophilizer is used to dry things - it sucks moisture.]
My fellow classmate: Sir... it sucks (then forgets what does it suck. So the final answer is - Sir, it sucks!!!)

And then there is the craziest person that came to earth - Gyan. He deserves a separate post for his antics.

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