Strategically Untitled

This post is dedicated to Dev, my friend and pillion on our ride from Sanquelim to Ribandar on Thursday, for carrying an enormous backpack on his back, and a big mattress and pillow on his head/shoulder. Even I had two bags on me and this bike on road would have been one hell of a sight for any onlooker.

Ribandar campus on the banks of river Mondovi is where we would be spending our next 2 months (summer internship) and the thought that came to my mind as we entered the gates of this old campus is - “home”.

When I thought of post graduation from Goa, I wished that it would be from a place like this, and not the ultra modern green campus in Sanquelim. Ribandar is a town in the Ilhas taluk sandwiched between the sea and a river. The campus itself has a Portuguese charm to it and was a hospital converted into a college. The hospital was built on an area which was a cemetery earlier.

After dinner from a food joint on the riverside, we took a ferry across the river. As the ferry headed towards the Chorao islands, we were lost for words as we sipped some cold beverages standing on the front end of the ferry. It was beautiful. Chorao, also known as Ilha dos Fidalgos, is also home to Salim Ali Bird Sanctuary. The island is also called Chudamani or diamond because local legends tell of the islands emerging from diamonds that were thrown away by Yashoda, the mother of Lord Krishna.

We returned after midnight, and rest of the night and early morning was spent exploring the campus. We did everything that a bunch of stupid guys in horror movies would do before getting killed one by one. I played along even though the fact that usually the black guy gets killed first scared me a little. Day being a Friday and the moon being in its fullest added to our enthusiasm. A lot of corridors lead to dead ends and sometimes I felt that there were more doors than it was required. I don’t exactly remember when we slept that night.

The next day was spent shopping and roaming around in the wonderful city of Panjim. Panjim is a fitting capital to a susegad loving state like Goa. On a normal day, it’s never overcrowded and one feels as if the vehicles don’t honk their horns in this place. Sipping coffee from the Nescafe outlet and looking across the street to the casino ships floating on the river in the evening is as close as you can get to tranquility in the middle of any capital city. After having tea and snacks from Nescafe, we returned to the campus and had some fun playing cricket in the basketball court.

Although I didn’t feel like leaving the place on a weekend, I had to return home since my cousins had come to my hometown for the Easter weekend. Dev dropped me at the station at 9.58pm and the train was scheduled to depart at 10. As I ran from the parking lot to the entrance, the parking ticket collector informed me that the train was late by 15mins. The officer at the ticket counter said the train would reach by 10.30. Then there was an announcement that the train would come by 10.45. Netravati Express eventually came just after 11pm. I have travelled in some very crowded train compartments and this one was right up there in the list. 

With a whole night to pass, the only way to spend time was to find someone to talk. Ofcourse I had my set of magazines and books to read as always and there were pdf’s am supposed to finish by this weekend on my lap, but any sort of movement would mean am disturbing the equilibrium of the whole seat and a set of passengers. To my left sat a guy who wanted to go to Andhra by this Mumbai -Trivandrum train. To my right was a lean fellow who looked like a high school student. Upon inquiry, he informed me that he was a final year student in NIT Surathkal returning from Goa after a trip.

This guy told me about the places they saw and the beaches they visited. Apparently he is also placed in Goldman Sachs and has been offered a hefty package. I asked him if he’s excited about it and he replied that he has got a 99.8 percentile in CAT, a call from all IIM’s and would probably join one if he converts. I countered this by informing him that they didn’t visit Palolem and Aarambol which are the best beaches in Goa and that their trip is a waste of time without a dip in the natural jacuzzi at Butterfly island in Palolem. I also told him that the beach is the Indian residence of Jason Bourne in the film The Bourne Supremacy. He asked me who Jason Bourne is. 

Rest of the night was spent trying to leverage my body mass to get a better share of the seat. The problem was that the other 5 occupants of the seat were doing the same. Also the hands and legs dangling from the people sitting in the luggage area on top was a distraction. The wonder kid and his friends got down at Surathkal and this opened up some space for everyone to sit properly. After sometime, I somehow got some space to even stretch myself and free my legs… just as the train screeched to a halt at the Kasaragod station. Home.

Now that I’m in the “wants to blog” part of the amateur blogger’s blogging cycle, I might as well post as many as I want to, now. The only cycle that beats this one is the “I’ve put on weight.. must join gym..*joins* / ..Not worth the effort *stops gymming*” cycle.

I’ve had a lot of food items in this short lifespan. From tulsi  leaves used as ‘touchings’  in undergrad college to that Italian dish which looks like dog’s tongue and whose name I forgot, from poha made by a street vendor in Hinjewadi to medu vada from Chennai’s own Hot Chips, from idlis  the size of dosa at Kundalahalli Gate to rabbit meat from Barbecue Nation, T-Nagar. Being a glutton, I’ve enjoyed most of these. Except maybe poha, which I consider to be poor man’s Aval Nanachathu (beaten rice flake, Kerala version). A strong supporter of the Tibetan cause, I’ve avoided Mainland China also so far. In spite of all these, what I love the most is homemade idli dipped in generously poured hot sambar.

Sambar is in a class of its own. And the best version is made at home. I’m so much in love with sambar that I’m thinking of adding “Can you cook sambar like my amma does?” to the questionnaire while seeing potential brides for an arranged marriage. This would probably be asked right after “What are your hobbies?”. Ideally, making sambar should be the answer for this question and then I wouldn’t have to ask specifically. No, am not being a male chauvinist. I’ve tried my hand at cooking before and failed miserably as my ex-roomies would testify. So I’ll be doing other important chores.

I’m not an expert in the “art of buying vegetables” wherein you pick vegetables meticulously and then weigh it, find that it’s less/more and then pick/drop individual vegetables even more meticulously. So in the vegetable market, as elders do this, I while away my time looking at.. err.. random things. The other day, amma uncharacteristically consulted me as to what vegetables have to be bought and I told her to buy the ones required to prepare sambar since the next day evening I would be heading back to college.

Sambar was hence prepared before amma left for work the next day. I was waiting for lunchtime and was whiling away time downloading random things on torrent. That’s when I got a call from peramma (amma’s elder sister) who invited me for lunch. She said she had prepared a wide range of dishes including beef fry. Yes, the very beef that my Northie friend frowned upon a few days ago in the hostel common room. “How can you Mallus even think about having beef…?”, he asked, sipping whiskey and nibbling the last bits of a KFC chicken piece, parceled from 35km away in Panaji. Beliefs and perspectives, my dear friend. Just like a veggie will not approve of that chicken piece and your Maa would not be as proud as the blenders about that whiskey.

So it was down to either having a sambar feast and inviting the wrath of my peramma or having good beef, which I haven’t had in a long long time. When I was working, a lot of time and even more meeting room real estate was used up to discuss innovation. The only real innovation I could do was to use Excel shortcuts, which I did. And a lot of people, including the boss, didn’t even think within the box to begin with. So, for the first time, out of need than to get brownie points, I improvised. Found a tiffin box, parceled the sambar, and proceeded to go have beef.. and a sumptuous lunch!

Maybe I should go back to “not blogging”, no? :P

That time of the year when you get inspired by random blogs and decide to revive your own little blog. Occasional bloggers like me would indeed know how this cycle works. It’s not really writer’s block of the amateur or anything of that sort, but it’s somewhere between laziness, lack/surplus of topics to write about and a state of detachment that keeps one away from blogging. Enough said about that!

As the header indicates, this post is about my hometown, Kasaragod. Confronted with questions about whereabouts, my cousins who are from this very town usually say that they are from Mangalore. This helps because the geographically challenged would ask further questions otherwise. The same strategy never worked for me because I know very little about Mangalore and am not very comfortable with kannada either. So I’d rather explain the geographical location and details about my hometown than be mistaken as a kannadiga. Forget knowing the language, I can’t even make out between kannada and tulu sometimes.

The place where I spent my “formative” years also has history with kannadigas and bunts (the community which speaks tulu) because Karnataka has a longstanding claim to this land, and wants this district to be merged with Karnataka. Or at least the area north of Chandragiri river, which flows through the Kasaragod town. I’ve read somewhere that there is a Samithi which has been setup to facilitate this merger. So far they have been unsuccessful and am happy. Am not sure if am politically correct, but being a Malayali, I would prefer this place to be a part of Kerala.

Yesterday evening amma dragged me to the temple. The famous Mallikkarjuna Temple that we frequented as kids, especially during festivals for ferris wheel rides and mainly for new sets of toys, was our destination. I was technically just a driver since I did not enter the temple premises. Not because I’ve turned into an atheist (although maybe I would, just a matter of time) but because it was required to remove your shirt while entering. The trade off was between trying to get my prayers heard by the almighty and the effort required to remove and put on a tee. Assuming there is an almighty, I still wasn’t sure what to pray for. Apparently religious tension broke into small scale violence later in the town because someone found it funny to drop a buffalo’s head near the temple premises. Luckily we were back home by then.

Now that’s something I hate about this place. A history of being intolerant to religious differences. Back in 1992, situation was scary during the debacle at Ayodhya. And Kasaragod is probably the only place in Kerala where prohibitory orders are enforced in the first week of December every year. Only 2 days back, there was a skirmish in another part of the town. My brother’s friends were returning after a trip to the Western ghats and were nabbed by police in the town, under the pretext of precautionary arrest. They told the police that they’re engineering college students returning from a bike trip. The police called my brother (him being a localite) for confirmation, but he thought this was an April fool prank played by his pals. So these unlucky chaps had to spend a longer time in the police station although this was sorted out later.

Just like communal tension, much hasn’t changed here in the past 20 years. That’s as long as I can remember. A few new mini-malls, a food court, some new hospitals and some taller buildings, is all that has happened. The area near the beach and railways station has largely remained unchanged. Vidyanagar, the administrative heart of the town, where I live and did my schooling, also has resisted much change. The Industrial Dept. building opposite the Govt. college ground, which provided a vantage point for Rajiv Gandhi’s speech in May 1992, has become less majestic. But that’s because I’ve grown taller maybe. From here, Mr. Gandhi embarked on his last journey to Sriperumbudur. 

The 2km stretch from school to the NH17 where we used to flaunt our shotokan karate uniforms after karate classes in school still remains the same. The shop from which we brought sip ups in bulk and the gutters on the road are still there. Coming back to karate, it didn’t last beyond the 3rd belt. We were told that the karate master had gone to China to learn advanced combat techniques. The fee for karate classes would then be used to buy more sip ups after football in the hot sun.

The mild traffic and the lack of traffic signals (only one) is a delight for a lazy driver like me, and this for me, makes up for the lack of overpriced and comfortable multiplexes. To be honest, I’ve liked most of the towns and cities I’ve been to, although I haven’t been or lived in many. When you realize that people are the same everywhere deep down, it’s easier to like the places they inhabit. For studies and work, I left my habitat many years ago and it’s unlikely that I’ll come back and settle here. Due to the constant threat of communal tension, even my parents might eventually leave the place after retirement and move southwards, to where they are originally from. In spite of all that, Kasaragod would still remain close to my heart and will always be the place I call my “home”.

I’ve been asked the meaning of ‘kolaveri’, or heard people discussing about it since morning. This song has gone viral and so this question will be asked many more times. Here’s my attempt to answer it -

‘Kolaveri’ means an urge to kill. The intent to kill. But in the context of this song, it could mean “Why did you do this?” or “Why are so mad at me” rather than the literal meaning of “Why do you have an urge to kill me?”

And here’s the lyrics of the song, as an add-on.

Yo boys i am singing song

soup song..

flop song..

why this kolaveri kolaveri kolaveri di

why this kolaveri kolaveri kolaveri di

rhythm correct

why this kolaveri kolaveri kolaveri di

maintain please

why this kolaveri……….aaa  di

Distance-la moon-u moon-u

moon-u  color-u  white-u

white background night-u nigth-u

night-u color-u black-u

why this kolaveri kolaveri kolaveri di

why this kolaveri kolaveri kolaveri di

white skin-u girl-u girl-u

girl-u heart-u black-u

eyes-u eyes-u meet-u meet-u

my future dark-u.

why this kolaveri kolaveri kolaveri di

why this kolaveri kolaveri kolaveri di

maama notes eduthuko

apdiye kaila snacks eduthuko

pa pa ppaan- pa pa pa ppan- pa pa pa ppan pa pa ppan

sariyaa vaasi…

super mama ready..

ready onee twooo three four.

whaa wat-a change over mama.

ok mama now tune change-u

kaila glass..

only english..

handula glass-u,

glass-la scotch-u

eyes-u full-aa tear-u

empty life-u

girl-u come-u

life-u reverse gear-u

lovvu lovvu

oh my lovvu,

you showed me bouv-u

cow-u cow-u holi cow-u

i want u hear now-u

God i m dying now-u

she is happy how-u

this song for soup boys-u

we don’t have choice-u

why this kolaveri kolaveri kolaveri di

why this kolaveri kolaveri kolaveri di

why this kolaveri kolaveri kolaveri di

why this kolaveri kolaveri kolaveri di

These are some interesting quotes from around the web, the ones which I haven’t read before. Also posting this for my own further reading pleasure :)

• Half the people you know are below average.
• A conscience is what hurts when all your other parts feel so good.
• All those who believe in psycho kinesis, raise my hand.
• Depression is merely anger without enthusiasm.
• I intend to live forever; so far, so good.
• A conclusion is the place where you got tired of thinking.
• To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism; to steal from many is research.
• If your car could travel at the speed of light, would your headlights work.

I understand that after reading funny quotes a few times, it doesn’t seem as funny as it first seemed to be. That may happen with these quotes as well.