Movie: To THAT line and back.

We starred in movie. Somewhere between between an action adventure and a youth happy movie, it was an experience of a lifetime I'd say.

Cast: Just us, meaning....first years uninvited.

Location: From IGIDR gate to IGIDR Guest House via Bhandardara.

Director: Ahana and Co. and SMIT.

Producers: We dutch.

Music Director: Lakshmi (for me only).

Here is a word I never use: awesome. The trip was quite simply "awesome".

From starting out in a little blue bus called Manjunatha at two in the morning, till the moment I dropped dead in my bed after 22 hours of non-stop fun, it was awesome!

We tried playing antakshari, and got stuck teasing people when they sang, "aaj kal tere mere pyar charche". When someone sang "pencture", all I could think of was how it could happen to our bus. And when the bus grew quieter and the night grew darker, it was a beauty I couldn't quite believe.

I hoped I would sleep on our ride up to Bhandardara. Ah well...so much for hopes. The night ride was just too beautiful for sleep. And of course when you have friends who promise to not 'let' you sleep what does it matter?! And then all of a sudden you see what looks like a dark cloud on the not-yet-morning-sky...you turn to the Arghya who wouldn't let you doze off...and of course; he is sleeping! We want the bus to stop so we can see it better. But we've just stopped a little while back. So Shreyes yells, "Bhaiyya bohut ZOR ki sussu ayi hai"! The bus stops and we jump out and the dark cloud is a hilltop behind clouds. The morning chill, and sparkling dew and every cliche you'd have heard about nature wraps us like a bit of a blanket; saying the trip will be great after all.

We stop at the stop Smit had arranged. Some people go off to see the lake, some people try to lose the dogs that hound us everywhere we go, and some others attend to more important things in 'nature'! There are ready-made toilets and obsessive ladies with toothbrushes and Listerine. There is walking to the edge where a stream is born and walking back dodging doggy droppings. There is a great breakfast of bread and eggs and poha. And tea.

We are then going to the dam. Now here is a surprise; a cement wall creates a beautiful mountain stream...river? We get wet in the dam water, they cross over to the other side, they bathe and there is a LOT of photographing. We dont wanna leave...please?

The bus ride is now to the foot of the fort. We love forts...you see we've been to Shivneri together. We stop at a small eatery. We are all quite crazed by hunger by then. It takes a good two hours for the old man and his wife to cook for us 27 brats. The food is hot, with a mild smell of burnt wood, red in color and delicious in its rustic simplicity.

Oh I forgot to mention the girl gang changing into dry clothes in the bus. Little detail...will be needed later.

We then started to walk towards the fort. "Where's the fort?", I ask. "Up there somewhere!", says one and all. Ok. We'll walk for an hour and a half says Smit. It starts to rain. We are trekking with our umbrellas. A little rain never hurt anybody. What about a lot? We'll cross that bridge when it comes. It came real fast. All that rain and we are crossing the first of many rivers.

"Don't step on the black stones". "Throw your shoes over to the other side". "How many more of these?" "DO NOT RUN".

We walk on. It rains on as well. I'm beginning to feel not-so-happy about this whole adventure. We come to the next river...actually its the same river we keep crossing and re-crossing. Its harder this time. I need to hold Ritesh's hand towards the end. I also need to open my Crocs. It takes a while for everyone to finish crossing. Some fall and some fall again. I ask the question, "Shouldn't we turn back?". No they say. Some even have philosophies about it...journey more important than destination etc. We continue. Even though the crazy rains are sure to make the river uncrossable soon. Some girls are now wanting to walk back with Purna di, who of course knows that we have to do whatever we do 27-together.

So we walk some more. And then, much sooner than expected we meet the river again. I tell Sri, "There is a thin line between stupidity and adventure and this river is that line...I AM NOT CROSSING IT". It turns out I needn't have been that loud. The guide says its impossible. Nobody will do it anyway. We find our way back to the river we'd just crossed. "Can't cross this one!" "CANT!" Its huge, angry and wont let me stand. It sweeps Garima off her feet and she is holding onto someone's arm, swinging for dear life. People are crying and being escorted or carried over to a not-much-safer side.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. Yes, some people had chattering teeth and lose motions and strange insect bites, but nothing compares to that feeling...hoping and wishing and praying that everyone comes out of this safe. Its a strange feeling you know? A kinship that only a shared somewhat-misadventure can give you. New heroes, unlikely friends, and a story no photograph can tell.

So cheers to the time we spent! I'm sure even we can't repeat it.

Living with MY nose!

I sort of remember smells. I guess with barely any normal vision, I needed a heightened 'other' sense. And weirdly enough; my nose won. That and an elephant's memory that remembers all unimportant things, smells included.

The smell of India's world cup victory will therefore always be the musty-old-carpet smell of Seminar Room 1. It came rushing back to me when I was sitting there for a PhD proposal seminar...quite the same sense of anticipation and excitement, I'd say! There is of course the smell of "the-world-is-my-urinal" walk to Amul's ice-cream or CCD. And even typing CCD brings to mind that amazing coffee shop smell. It's almost like I go to the shop for the smell and not the coffee. What about the smell of moss when I walk up the hill to my flat? I'm not sure how I feel about that. But yes, last year when the winds brought to 441 the smell of "chatim" flowers and Lakshmi said it was smell of durga pujo, it was like i was home.

The smell of baking when you cross Glenary's in Darjeeling. The smell of Shivangi's tea just in the moments before it is ready. The smell of biriyanii that ma made for a birthday when I wasn't home...smells for which I just have to close my eyes.

There are smells that all of us know: the new rain, the railway platform, the dirty drain overflowing, johnson's baby cream soap shampoo on a baby!

Then there is the weirdest one, the people smells. The cologne mixed with tobacco, the deodorant whose name I don't know, smell of a sweaty brother, the smell of my grandmom's soft old white sarees.

And finally there is the greatest smell of all: correctly cooked meat.