Coaching in Cochin

I would like to believe that I am a people person, but have been proved wrong. I am not.

This to me is news. Always felt that I was open, warm, trusting etc etc and had a genuine curiosity about people but cant then seem to explain the sense of apathy or as my ex boss put it "already always listening" that has seemed to step into me.

As we ambled down the streets of Cochin.. Mr. Original Gulf Returned Mallu friend- "MJ" humbled me by displaying a humblness that i have got accustomed to discarding. At every shop we went to, or to be more honest at the ones we lingered at, he sat and spoke to the person behind the counter.

The man behind the window selling tickets to enter the Dutch Palace, was not the man behind the window selling tickets. The conversation did not begin at

"Can I have 2 tickets please" and end at "thank u" but started by saying hi. ......a pause, a space for a conversation to start and the trascation to limp into the corner.  MJ's world is a world to immerse in, soak in the colours, enjoy the detailing in the pattern of raindrops of a speeding glass pane.

Thrill is not about speed but the intricacies observed while slowing down. While i clicked motion, movement he was riveted by rust and decay... the natural reabsorption of nature.

It was the first time that we were travelling together, and spending so much time. His pace allowed me to be still, soak in Cochin in the back lanes and not linger in the glossy touristy version that i knew till now. Lunch was savoured in a non descript Krishna Cafe, where the guests knew the exact seat that was theirs.

As we ate, we marveled at the nooks and corners that the place offered us. And his child like observation opened my gates. letting a lot of smaller moment s that would have otherwise passed me by..be caught.

to the pause. the amble
the life without a pace

thanks MJ for a day of leisure, came after a while

rewinding

Its one of those days when you are out of sorts, the day after the journey. When one comes back and the rush of experiences of the holiday are vivid, the people and there lives still leaving an impact and one looks desperately for novelty in the daily life and finds none.

that is the beauty of getting out and seeing some of the world. In minutes it shows you the vastness of the world, and the endless ways to live life. Takes a while to limp back to injecting back the pulse of stress, and tension into the veins of the city life.

Take the case of some of the simple people i met in Cochin on day one. 

The kiteseller. I dont know his name, or even if he was the person making the kites. But i watched him sit still as he observed the world go by, patiently letting his wares flutter in the breeze. As i took this snap all he told me was that these kites were ordinary, I would find nicer ones along the road to photograph. There was no sense of urgency, a desire to sell me the kite or cajole from me anything. He knew he was allright, kite sale nothwitstanding. 

Lijjat aunty. She sat in the sun, her tools next to her, the dough whiteneing her hands as she rolled hundrends of these papaddams in a line. Each of them started as a tiny ball, was coaxed into shaped, powdered, stacked, re-rolled and then painstakingly seperated. In the middle of all this, she made coffee for her beedi smoking husband, sweetly spoke to the cat and was not in the least upset by strange women and her invasion. 

The man that impressed me the most was this one. The necklace maker. Have never seen a person so absorbed and intent on his task. A bhuddist monk would have been ashamed at the serenity of his task. Saw him on 2 seperate days, on the same seat, same needle and thread, different flowers same task. Each flower was to be tied into a delicate knot to weave a garland. For someones hair, god. car... who knew. But the depth of meaning he attached to it made me envious. 

As the last open lake lapped against the hull of my house boat. ..............  I wondered if peace and serenity of ones surroundings, makes the mind peaceful, or does one get used to the same. Knew there was no simple generic answer to this one, each person made his heaven or carved his hell irrespective of life. 

But however trivial it may seem, think the environment has a role. Kerala is green, gentle, laid back and peaceful. Delicateness, Greenness thrives as does laziness. As we crossed the border into Tamil Nadu, so thing subtle changed

The swaying greenery was replaced  by barren stretches of nothingness.. a certain indifference or detachment to the surroundings seemed to seep in. It was clear that people simply lived here, the sense of belonging was strangely missing....

Imagine

Imagine there's no Heaven 
It's easy if you try 
No hell below us 
Above us only sky 
Imagine all the people 
Living for today 

Imagine there's no countries 
It isn't hard to do 
Nothing to kill or die for 
And no religion too 
Imagine all the people 
Living life in peace 

You may say that I'm a dreamer 
But I'm not the only one 
I hope someday you'll join us 
And the world will be as one 

Imagine no possessions 
I wonder if you can 
No need for greed or hunger 
A brotherhood of man 
Imagine all the people 
Sharing all the world 

You may say that I'm a dreamer 
But I'm not the only one 
I hope someday you'll join us 
And the world will live as one 

As I begin to commence the long documentation journey towards getting the visa papers ready and moving out of the country for a short time, i pause and wonder the simple joys of having a visa less balanced world where there would be no need to migrate from one place to the other. joy ;-)

train trips

Am taking a train to Mumbai and more than going to Mumbai I am excited about the train journey. It is an instant childhood recall button that I can press. Standing at the train door, watching the fields stream by, marvelling at the odd shapped scarecrows all make me smile.

The most favourite part is to open the door wide open, specially when travelling in the Ac compartment, sitting on the stairs and just letting the wind play havoc with your hair. Can spend hours just observing the world.

One of the oldest games that I play with myself is to wonder what i would do if I slipped off. In my dream world, of course there is no injury sustained, but more of a "rubbing your eyes" and looking around you pretending that you are alice in wonderland. Have gone and imagined the entire cycle, of stumbling across fields money and cell phone less. Going to the next source of light and then hoping like mad that the village has a STD booth...... Calling dad, hoping he picks up (hoping that I remember the number as well) and then the image fades. Each of the possible solution that comes to mind has a zillion issues.

Solution 1 - get him to send me money- how? where? which bank? no atm? no atm card what shall be done?
Solution 2- borrow money for another train ticket - who shall be the kind benefactor? and wonder what I can do for him in return. The idea of making little flat gobar things to plaster on the wall seems abhorant.
Solution 3- Stand on the train tracks and flag a train down - hmm... doubt if trains have a lets give them a lift system ;-(
Solution 4- Talk to the station manager and hope he is a nice kind of bloke....
Solution 5- Reenact scenes from Jab we met and hope a millionaire kind of a guy happens to be ambling along...

Hmmm as u can see my overactive imagination makes for frightfully interesting train journeys.  Manage to be entertained very well with all the people around me. Happily so.

Also its fun to cook up stories of who i am and why I am alone on the train. Stories range from running away from home, to being a refugee, to being a biryani maker in hyderabad. Everyone believes anything at all. To seeing the specimens that appear today.. shall narrate later

someone else is living my life

Mr. Postcard has just come home today. Is finally back from New Zealand, am IT man, working with one of the biggies, he has returned from one more of the upteen "conferences" this one just happens to be in New Zealand ;-) . Last year he landed up in Singapore, Tanzania, Australia, Tasmania and he just happens to mention that (i) he is going to Peru and (ii) that his pic is on the OUTLOOK TRAVELER

I have only one feeling to sum up this.. someone else is living my life, while I am living some second hand version of mine.. See the images on FB and the dorkiest kids of my class seem to have latched on to the not so handsome men, who just happened to live in Swizz alps, and post updates about London rain and crib.. okok am a case of sour grapes and all but that is what is happening ;-)

You ever had those annoying questions, when you were in class 9, that asked you to see what you wanted to be? Well all that I did want was to be was a traveler. That is all. The ability to travel and see the world. not the kind my brother gets to do, the kind where he moves from boardroom to boardroom, as opposed to lugging your backpack on the back, the world strapped to you and no agenda to the day. letting it flow.

The former leaves you drained, where every airplane meal looks the same, you wonder where you are, see alien signboards at the railway station, and then you can be a traveller, where the food still sucks, if you are a vegetarian, but there is so much openness to meeting people.

There was this one time when I was backpacking in Kerala, staying alone in some random off beat place, and when I bumped into this other traveler, Hugh. Together, we went food scouting, found none, but chanced upon a man lazying against a bike. He informed us that there was no food to be got for miles, but if we wanted we could share a meal with his mates, who were the crew of a luxury house boat. Off we went and lo n behold, little me, random man Hugh, and 7/8 randomer Mallu men, were all sitting around a houseboat with an inbuilt jacussi, where i had the best meal of my life. Candle light maggi and fresh pineapples, rocking on the house boat, surrounded by fireflies.

That is why i want to travel. Secretly that is the reason i want to do my MBA. to expand the world.

Best friends number 3, is currently in ivory coast, off to a trip with someone from Norway, someone from Romania, he from india, all travelling within Africa, that is for me magical.. like an enid blyton book..

To travel unhurried and easy
in a land somewhat unknown
with people, of whom atleast one is old
some one new is met, a conversation struck
a meal shared, a story discussed
time to move, comes again,
just a happy memory, remaining to be shared.

Extracts from a song i read.... to living this as a part of my own life!!!

When I was young and unafraid

And dreams were made and used and wasted
There was no ransom to be paid
No song unsung, no wine untasted
But the tigers come at night
With their voices soft as thunder
As they tear your hopes apart
As they turn your dream to shame
He slept a summer by my side
He filled my days with endless wonder
He took my childhood in his stride
But he was gone when autumn came
And still I dream he'll come to me
And we'll live our lives together
But there are dreams that cannot be!
And there are storms we cannot weather
I had a dream my life would be
So different from this hell I'm living
So different now from what it seemed
Now life has killed the dream I dreamed.