aditya kumar's weblog

So if you have been wondering what I’ve been up to all these days, lets just say I have been taking a break. Not the “I-want-to-take-a-break-from-writing” kinds but a real break. The hectic last few days in the office followed by equally hectic travelling. A rush-rush trip to Mumbai and then to Pune (I wasn’t getting nostalgic about the city in the last post for nothing, after all) and now at home in Goa.

A week off and half of it spent in travelling like mad — some of it in Mumbai’s locals that practically drain out ones stamina, in the buses, the autos and in the midst of all this, meeting friends that always complain that I am unable to take out time to meet them up.

Pune has changed in bits but not changed in entirety afterall. Traffic is more than before but so are the McDonalds and the malls. This change is just about happening in every Indian city. Sadly its Pune’s turn now. Why sadly you ask. Oh, Malls aren’t the ideal things to build when the city lacks basic infrastructure and proper roads, isn’t it?

Anyway, so I have been off for sometime and who knows for how much time more. Next update, probably in a few days!

My earliest memory of Pune takes me back to 2001, when I had come to the city for an interview in what was to be my college where I would go on to do my post graduation from. I remember telling a friend on email that in certain aspects, Pune looked like a combination of Mumbai and Delhi. I still stand by my statement — It had some Greenery left that reminded me of Delhi. Then, being a distant cousin of Mumbai, some couture automatically rubs off to Pune.

In the hotel room, the first time I rented out a hotel room that is, while flipping channels I came across Sting’s music video of “When we dance”. I experienced bliss. I loved the song so much that the first thing I did the following morning was to buy Sting’s “Best of” album. The following evening, I kept listening to the album in my walkman while I waited for the train to take me back to Indore.

Back in Indore, I was one of the lucky few in the final semester of BCA, who knew where they’d be leaving for, after graduation was done with. My PG course, though not as good as I would have liked it to be, had given me an assurance, an easiness that spared me those sleepless nights which my other friends were going through (Of course, I have had my share of those before as I had hit a roadblock that could have turned out to be a catastrophe for my career, but that’s another story). So the career blues notwithstanding, I spent the rest of my 3 months in the city studying Numerical Analysis and Java, while, of course, listening to Sting.

Pune, at least the part I was living in, reflected a laid back lifestyle. Prabhat Road, as I later found out, had been a host to Narayana Murthy and Sudha Murthy. It was on these roads, they say, that romance blossomed. Roads, I know, are one of the best places for letting romance grow (Hopelessly romantic, you’d say). Anyway, my college was on Law College Road, the road nearest to Prabhat Road and the same road on which FTII is located. Spotting khadi kurta clad aspiring actors was not that difficult and to bump into Amol Palekar was also not a rare thing to happen.

After the college hours, I used to wander around Deccan and often found myself going to Alka talkies. One of the few halls in the city that, at that time (and for a long time before that too) encouraged Hollywood by showcasing only Hollywood movies, was almost the same distance from my house as was the college. Not only did I love to watch the pretty Nicole Kidman in the musical “Moulin Rouge” — I was equally horrified as Anthony Hopkins revealed cannibalism to me with “Hannibal”. But the freedom that Alka talkies gave me, and I hope still is giving to many like me, was invaluable –The freedom to watch a flick when you want to, to watch it for Rs.30 and to watch it without advance booking. The freedom to watch a movie at just the moment you feel like, without having to think twice about anything.

Today I am out of college, on my own but can I afford that same freedom?

Oh and by the way, I still listen to Sting.

Many people ask me, how do I find so much time to travel. Finding time is not difficult, if you want to. Okay thats not a practical answer. I have a few of rules I follow. First, Jump at every and any opportunity to travel that comes your way. Second, Take at least one long vacation in the year. Long vacation means far away. Say, from Bangalore to Kasauli; or to Kohima (that trip got cancelled, last year, thanks to whats been happening in Assam). Third, never be afraid to travel alone. I realise not everyone can do that, but I do it. Fourth, feel it big. How many times have you travelled, usually a short 2 day trip, and not really felt it? Short trips appear trivial. But if you observe, look closely, look at the people, the land that lays ahead of you, you will experience a thousand different stories. Be open to it all. And then you learn.

You feel your feet are happy when you travel, longing for more.

About my last month’s trip to Goa. The good thing about going to Goa, my ‘home’, with a bunch of friends, is that I have to show them around. I become almost like a tourist guide. Normally, I won’t go and visit any tourist place, say, a cathedral or so-and-so beach. I mean, going to home for 3-4 days — I’d rather spend time at home with family than look around. But guests change that. I go to places I have gone only with guests. It’s like my own, exclusive, pre-decided ‘package-tour’. So last month when I travelled to Goa with my friends, I ended up taking long walks alone on the sea shore, clicking pictures while the gang played ball in the waves. Lots of quality time spent in solitude and the result? — Some of the best pictures I have ever clicked. I think so, neverthless.

Pictures below. Comments, as always, welcome.

House beside the sea, Dona Paula

St. Catherine’s Cathedral, Old Goa

The Cross, The Sky

Classic Goa

The Sun, The Land, The Water, The Sky and a Cosmic nature thats common to all

Panjim Church, Panjim City.

Downtown Panjim.

Now that I have travelled to all the four metros of the country (and lived for 10 years in two of them), I hereby proclaim that Kolkata is the most metropolitan city of all.

You could be surprised but that is what I feel. Of course, like always, you may or may not agree with me.

Let’s go at the beginning. Let’s just ask ourselves, and this is a tricky one, what exactly is a metropolitan city? Is it high rise buildings? Is it the big roads and the transportation that makes a city a metro? Is it the food? Is it the dressing style of the people? Is it People?

I think in the acceptability of various cultures lies the real essence of any metropolitan city. High rise buildings are only a few decades old.

When I went to Kolkata, I had to look at it as a metro. I had expectations but looking at this city, I wanted to go back and check out the meaning of the word “Metropolitan”. I needed to evaluate the city but I was forced to re-evaluate the benchmarks first. Because I feel, over the years, the definition of a Metropolitan city has been messed up with.

In Kolkata, there is a certain openness to everything. Because when a guy from Bangalore walks on chowringhee road, they don’t call him a madrasi like they do in Delhi. Because there they start off their first sentence in Bengali and by noticing your bewildered look, they smile and say it again in Hindi. Because there the UP wallahs and the Biharis are considered partners at work, rather than being treated as outsiders as they put up with the cheap rhetoric of Shiv Sena in Mumbai. In Kolkata, you can have tea for Re.1.50 and then you can have it for Rs.10 as well.

At the same time, I know, Mumbai has a big heart. But Kolkata isn’t that bad too.

Coming to another aspect, and an important one, you can almost feel the pain of Ganguly’s 10 month exile in every man’s heart. I was made to feel a sinner when I confessed that I had almost forgotten Chappell’s obscene gesture to the crowd at the Eden Gardens. It’s fresh in the minds here as if it was yesterday. They have not forgiven the coach over that. They never will, I can tell you that.

The cook who prepared the fine meals for me in the mess I stayed in, never looked much of a talkative guy. Until, while he served me a bowl of rosogollas, I asked if he had ever been to the Eden Gardens. He gave me a look, as if I had asked him one of the stupidiest questions. Well, maybe I just had. Kolkata resident not been to Eden! And then a sudden smile, a glitter in the eyes and the tone of his voice revealed that I had set him off. Eden Gardens, many times! How can you come up with that? Right, stupid me. A gentle loosener to start up with, so to say. Hit for a six alright.

Then on to Saurav Ganguly. Has he ever seen him play? Oh yes sir, sure, he has played near our guest house. A day before the news was confirmed, about Ganguly’s inclusion in the test team. So what did he had to say about the Maharaja being out of the team for such a long time?


“No, the cry is not because a Bengali player was axed from the team. The problem is with the way it happened. Bengali or not, he deserved better”.

No doubt, he did deserve better and maybe he will get to that. I often heard Pradeep Vijaykar on radio. He always said that the people of Kolkata have an immense knowledge of the game. That is just so true — You can almost feel it here. They live for it. They think about it when they walk. They have cups of tea, discussing what went wrong the other day as if they could have changed the way it all went. An average Kolkata resident will be able to match his wits against the best of commentators on ESPN, that is the level of their matured opinions. To call Cricket “just a game” will be dishonoring their respect, knowledge and above all the love for the game.

I have heard they are more passionate about Football. I didn’t get to that. And trust me, I can’t imagine that.

Orissa may be the land of temples and The Holy city of Puri may as well be its “Temple capital”, but my stay there was a terrible story in itself.

According to the Hindu mythology, we are living in the Kalyuga — The material age and the one in which mankind will be the farthest away from God. Ironically, the house of God has not been spared and that is what you get to see in this land of temples.

A kind of place where any conversation with a stranger often leads to some kind of “payment” from your side. Priests eye your wallets and object if you do not “donate” enough in the temples. I had a row with a couple of them, for a few moments I wanted to leave the place there and then. But I asked God, what had gone wrong there, why was this holy land transformed into a “wholesale market” of Gods. Religion, a big and probably, the only, enterprise here.

The only saving grace being the wonderful architecture of the temples. The remenants of a wonderful age, a truly holy past — now in ruins.

…after a long and exhaustive trip from Bhubaneswar and Kolkata.

More on it, soon.