A whole new world

I am of the opinion that as an outsider you take a closer look at a city than you would as an insider.


21 years in Ahmedabad v/s just 3 years in Pune. I think I can talk more about the later than the former - not a fact that I’m particularly proud about. So last week, with the hope of knowing more about my city, I took a heritage walk in the old city of Ahmedabad.

Organized by the Gujarat government, this walk takes you through the labyrinth corners of the vicinity where the city originated. In these lanes, time stands still and each building narrates the story of the grandeur of the bygone era.

We started with the house of Kavi Dalpatram. This bronze statue sits at the entrance.

The two hour walk takes you through various ‘pols’ – the self-contained neighbourhoods, some of which are virtually small villages. In olden days, these pols were protected by gates and secret passages.

An old woodden door that caught my eye

Today, when you walk through its narrow streets, you cannot help standing in awe before these architectural wonders.

A traditional bird-feeder known as a 'chabutara'


These carved out pieces that adorn every house here bear the influence of various cultures. While the floral pattern is a Persian influence, the presence of angels is very European.

This one bears a chinese influence

And then you enter these Jain temples where gods carved out from wood some 400 years ago still retain their luster and glory!

Some pics taken from outside the temple

Inside a particular house, it looks just like a ‘chal’, only that it’s bigger and grander. Some of these houses still accommodate huge Jain families (some 80-100 people).

In those days, it was a matter of pride for the family members that their girl child is educated. They'd place such small statues on the main door to indicate that.

Amidst these lanes also lies the tomb of the man who built this city – Ahmad Shah. (He was only 20 when he built it!) The intricate designs on the walls that surround it are beautifully carved out.

The city was systematically divided. There was the residential area called pols and the commercial area called ols. The markets of the old city are still the biggest markets in Ahmedabad and here you’ll find every damn thing you have on your list!

A banner with a typo that caught my attention

The walk ended at the Jama Masjid. It was the first time I entered a mosque and the feeling was overwhelming. The huge central area is surrounded by walls where some urdu words are painted.

The central area

The soothing Urdu script

To say that the central dome is a work of beauty would be an understatement. The 500+ pillars within the mosque give rise to an interesting play of shadow and light. I just had to close my eyes and say ‘Allah’ in my heart to feel one with Him.

One of my favourite pics from the day

I wondered, how many people know this facet of Ahmedabad. How many even care to? And as I type this I wonder if it would be fair to even call it the old city. In those couple of hours, what I discovered was a complete new city.

Shaival and me :)

Thanks Shaival for your wonderful company. Thanks Om for helping me out in posting the pictures.
P.S. - You can see some beautiful pictures of Ahmedabad pols here.

Stop to shop

Lord save me from the disastrous shopping trips I end up into. Last afternoon, my parents got a pleasant surprise when I announced, ‘I feel like shopping.’ Their eyes gleamed on hearing this rare expression from the Big B and immediately mom got ready to accompany me for shopping.

Alright, I know I’m a little too choosy when it comes to clothes (more than 4 clothes still have price tags attached to it and more than a dozen shirts that I haven’t touched since ages still usurp my wardrobe space). But then, that’s me. Live with it.

Almost an hour into the shop, and I felt like banging my head against the wall. Why, no I mean, WHY don’t I ever get the kind of clothes I want?? All of them are so tight and dhinchak. Why can’t they just keep simple, normal clothes? Everything has to be so bloody body-fitted. I mean, how do even people breathe in it? Tight jeans and tight t-shirt. Go to a tailor and he wouldn’t even have to take out his measuring tape to know your vital stats! And everything seems to be so loud (probably, it’s my mistake - I went during party season). Everything was glittering – loaded with sequins, stones and God alone knows what all.

Anyways, my point is why does fashion have to come in the way of what you feel comfortable in? Isn’t it ok if I don’t like those clothes? Wouldn’t it be just fine to move around in my jeans and kurta? No, I’m absolutely normal. Just that I detest this whole idea of going with the ‘in’ thing.

End of topic. No more shopping trips for me. In 2007 I mean. Better luck in 2008!

Wish you all a very happy New Year!!! :)

My long lost handwriting

Few days back I appeared for an exam – a written exam! Yeah, the exclamation mark ‘cos it’s not everyday that I write 20+ foolscap pages. There were 4 exams in all – 2 on each day. The first paper I sat down to WRITE gave some good exercise to my fingers. The first paragraph took quite some effort and had different handwriting on every line. Thankfully, I continued with the best sample of the lot.

Everytime I released the static position in which one holds the pen, there was a slight crackling sound in my fingers. It took some effort and some pain in the knuckles to get back to the pen-holding position once again. Three hours and 20+ written pages later I realized what a humungous task writing has become. I don’t remember the last time I wrote a long letter. I haven’t opened my diary since last 10 months! Scrawling my illegible signature; underling sentences in a book; scribbling some lines here are there – these are the only things I remember doing with a pen nowadays. We are so used to keying in data that we’ve even forgotten how our handwriting looks like!

I mean, think about it – aren’t we losing a quintessential part of our identity? Everyone keys in the same-looking characters on the screen. So what happens to a whole stream called handwriting analysis? When you read someone’s hand-written letters, you can actually see that person’s face superimposed on that letter (ya, 70’s film type). Your sweat can drip on a note; your perfume can be absorbed by the fibres of the paper…Can you feel the same when you read a mail?

Mails, chats, sms – communication is becoming shorter and quicker. In the process, writing is becoming an archaic form of communication. The ability to communicate without editing is being lost. I mean, when was the last time you typed even one complete paragraph without pressing the backspace key?

Typing is faster while writing is slow. No wonder I have lost patience for creating a text at a speed slower than I think. At the same time, I love to write and I don’t want my writing skills to decay. I want to continue to write, to pour my feelings on a piece of paper and then read it after years and wonder if it was my tear drop that caused a smudge on that paper…

Death of a different kind…

The blogosphere seems like one vast ocean of knowledge, inspiration, creativity, questions, musings, thoughts, fancies, cribs, scattered emotions, non-sense – every single thing that defines us. At times I’m happy to see that such a thing actually exists and at times I’m simply awed by this unbelievably never-ending process of dissemination!

One of the best parts about blogs is that you are sure to find an expression to some of your deepest thoughts which you could never put into words. I came across this post on Atul’s blog. It’s something that I have been thinking about since long but could never spell out so neatly…

...blogs, like memories, don't die. Or something to that effect. And I believe so. People delete blogs, they stop writing at their blogs, yet blogs themselves don't die. They may be pushed back in the darkest deepest recesses of an inaccessible server somewhere, but they don’t die. At worst, they don't grow - they stagnate for want of nutrition.

Blogs don’t die. Bloggers do. They die two kinds of death, one of which is certain.

Between A and B

A: Isn’t 18 the official age to marry?

B: Not any more… they’ve changed it to 21 years for girls and 23 for guys.

A: Oh, ok

B: It’s so weird…at 18 they think you’re capable of making national decisions but not your personal ones!

A: That's 'cos national decisions don’t f**k you up so badly…

compromise v/s adjustment

When you reach a suitable age, your parents start getting worried about your marriage. They are more worried that you'll have some weird ideas about the kind of life partner you want. So they keep telling you, "Beta, shaadi mein thoda compromise to karna hi padta hai."

I keep saying, "I'm ready to adjust, not compromise."

Many do not differentiate between the two, but there is a stark difference.

Compromise is letting go something of your self in order to create some kind of balance in a relationship. It may become mandatory since the relationship demands it, or more often than not, because of major ego clashes.

Adjustment can be seen as a voluntary act. It's at your own free will. You think of making things better, of creating a perfect blend and hence are ready to alter the degree of one or more of your characteristics. I repeat, you alter, do not shun the characteristic completely, which happens in case of compromise.

In a relationship, two people are like two musical notes. Both the notes are equally important and have a role to play. When one is high, the other ought to be low and vice versa. Only then can they produce music that sounds melodious. Adjustment is all about moulding yourself according to the situation. When you compromise, you are losing on one of the notes and hence taking away the essence of music.

On Writing

"The scariest moment is always just before you start"

Stephen King

Well, Calvin has a different viewpoint...

What stops us from blogging?

The following reasons are based solely on my observation and interpretation. You are free to add some more:

a) Fear. This is perhaps the most common and biggest problem. Blogs being public diaries give you an online face-value. You don't want to end up writing something rubbish. You also have the fear that perhaps your language is not fit enough to be 'published' online or not as good as your creative friends'. I would say - chill. There is only one way to overcome this fear - write, write some more and keep writing to flex those writer's muscles or else they will soon become inactive.

b) Too many ideas at one time. This is another problem with many people, including me :) . I always start with one idea but can never concentrate on it. As a result I have many unfinished works. Finally, I have realized that there is no harm in it but it shouldn't distract you to such a great extent that you do not write anything at all!

c) The perfect blend. You always want to write something which has a perfect flow - a good beginning, middle and an end. But when you sit to write, you cannot write accordingly. It's always that the writer in you clashes with the editor in you. I would suggest - let the creative juices flow. Then put on the editor's hat and give it the final touch.

d) Time. Yes, it’s one of other big reasons which we always produce when someone asks us, 'Hey, haven't seen you update your blog lately?'. I know we all have prior commitments and loads of peripheral work which requires all our attention. But it doesn’t take hours to write something, isn't it? So just log on, write something- one or two lines of how your day has been, some random thoughts, song of the day, some lyrics that kept haunting you, etc etc. These little things will help you stay in the groove.

e) Motivation. Whatever you do, you look for some kind of motivation. In case of blogs, it's the reader's comments. When you see those comments, you know someone out there is reading your blog and hence are motivated to post something more and also experiment a bit with your topics, your language. Comments help you grow as a blogger, which is something not possible with your personal diaries. So, if you read something which is good or wherein you could add something, always leave a comment. Not only does it help you in networking, but it also motivates the other person.

Like I said before, these are solely based on some talks with friends and observation. So, I many or may not be right. The reason I state the ways we can overcome this block is because I think everyone has a story to tell and blogs are a fantastic way to share them. So, keep blogging and hope to see your updated blog soon :)

The best things in life…

Smell of the rain-soaked earth
A long-distance call
Receiving an email from an old friend
Finding a ten rupee note in your washed jeans
Listening to your favourite song on the radio
Finding a pressed flower in your book
Reading funny notes you'd written during lectures
Reading old messages
Singing a stupid song in chorus with friends
A head massage after a long day
A hot shower
Laughing over a stupid joke
Having someone play with your hair
Home-made food
Girls' night out
Watching a classic

Getting your first salary
Sitting under the shade of a tree
Watching the sun set
Walking on the beach
Making maggi at midnight
The smell of coffee
Blushing when friends tease you
Having someone tell you that you're beautiful
Candle-light dinners
Walking hand in hand with the one you love
Realizing that there is so much more in life to be explored….

Who wants to be a Millionaire??

My prophecy has come true! FILMY entertainment channel is actually launching a talent hunt show called "Bathroom Singer"! (Thanks Ritu for the breaking news!) For people who have come in late : http://bhumikaa.blogspot.com/2007/06/on-bathroom-singing.html .The tagline of the show says "Jismein jitna zyaada jhaag hoga woh jeetega". Just incase people have any confusion, they have clearly stated that here 'jhaag' refers to the "entertainment quotient". http://www.indiantelevision.com/headlines/y2k7/july/july21.php

I simply cannot imagine how will they choose the participants. I have all sorts of ideas which I'd rather not mention here ;). And as far as the audience goes, imagine a participant's mother saying "Isse bachpan se hi gaane ka bahut shauk tha. Jabhi bathroom mein jaati thi, zor zor se gaati thi. Padosi bhi pareshan ho jaate the! Lekin mujhe pata tha ki iske talent to ek din zaroor mauka milega aur aaj yeh 'bathroom singer' ke floor, sorry, manch par aa pahunchi hai!"

The weirdness of this venture doesn’t end here. The prize money is an unbelievable Rs. 2.5 million, higher than all the singing talent hunt shows so far!! So who wants to be a millionaire?? I'm sure there are many takers here.

Fresss Vegetables

Last week I decided to go vegetable-shopping to Reliance Fresh with my mother. For people who are not familiar with this place, it is a chain of 'vegetable malls' started by Reliance. So you get all your tomatoes-potatoes, dals, oils, masalas, wafers and everything edible at this place. In short, it's a place where you buy vegetables in an air-conditioned atmosphere and more importantly, you cannot bargain! The prices are clearly written on a board, which is neatly placed on top of the counter. What's the fun?! So you just keep walking with the cart, keep cursing the rising prices of the vegetables and end up buying very little.

The 'vegetable mall' has surely revolutionized the way we look at this whole business of vegetable buying. However, the aunties are still learning to adapt themselves to it. So you see your Kamlaben checking every single bhindi before she puts it in the polythene. Then she puts it on the automatic weighing machine. It reads 106 gms. Naaah, that's not what she's looking for. She removes exactly 2 bhindis. The machine now reads 100 gms. Perfecttt! Her eyes lit up as if she has achieved the impossible!

While Kamlaben enjoys her moments of joy, I see my mother getting irritated by the strange mechanics of vegetable buying that she has been introduced to - the air-conditioned atmosphere, radio mirchi playing in the background, a person announcing the 'Fresss offers' on the mike…She decides that she'd rather buy the remaining vegetables from the vendors who have their carts standing just opposite the mall. So, we head out of this place and walk to the usual sabji-wallas.

The vegetables are neatly arranged on the cart, gleaming fresh with the water that has just been sprinkled on it. You can smell the fresh pudina and the green chillies. The yellow of lemons looks beautiful placed next to the red tomatoes. This time mother feels much more comfortable. She checks every vegetable with her expert hand, throws it on the weighing machine and haggles with the vendor. Her voice is loud and clear, despite the noise of the vehicles honking in the background. The vendor gives in and reduces Rs. 5 on the overall bill. I look at her and smile, giving her the 'I'm loving it!' look. Mother feels happy and we walk away with great satisfaction and two bags full of vegetables.

While She Waits

I'm scared of her. She haunts me everyday. As I climb up the stairs, I can feel her presence. Clad in her white Pakistani pyjama - kurta and head covered with a thick dupatta, she sits on the last fleet of stairs. She watches me as I take deeper breaths while climbing the last few steps. As I move around doing my work upstairs, I feel she is standing behind me, watching me carefully.

I hear some strange noise and look behind. Nobody. But I know it was her. She must be getting some kind of sadistic pleasure in watching me all tensed and sweating. She knows I have this inexplicable fear of being all alone upstairs. It's been years, but still I haven’t been able to overcome this fear.

Climbing down the stairs is the thing I dread the most. There is darkness behind me and in that darkness I know she is following me. I can feel it - she is right behind me. As I try to move ahead faster, she gets closer. It's just a matter of a few steps. My heart beats faster. I don’t want her to snatch me away. Last four steps, three, two, one, ground. She's gone. The moment I touch the ground, she vanishes. Looks like she has no power beyond the fleet of stairs.

I heave a sigh of relief. Once again I have returned safe from her territory. I have been lucky for the past 15 years. But I know, one day she'll take me away with her….

Rim jhim gire saawan

Sulag sulag jaaye mann

Bheege aaj is mausam mein

Lagi kaisi ye agan…

“Find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot, who calls you back when you hang up on him, who will lie under the stars and listen to your heartbeat, or will stay awake just to watch you sleep... wait for the boy who kisses your forehead, who wants to show you off to the world when you are in sweats, who holds your hand in front of his friends, who thinks you're just as pretty without makeup on. One who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares and how lucky his is to have you.... The one who turns to his friends and says, 'that's her.'"