Singapore Diaries

A View of Marina Bay Sands from the Singapore Flyer

A FINE CITY

Anand @Food Republic,Shaw House

Every holiday has that one person who makes it special. Well, our guardian angel was Anand Khandelwal who took on the mantle of our friend-philosopher-tour adviser, much before we even stepped on board our flight. So at the outset a big thankyou to Anand Khandelwal. Take a bow Sir.

These days, before every holiday (which are infrequent) and journeys (which are very frequent), to any new wonder-or-otherwise land, I always end up in a tizzy, with the logistics. There is so much information on the net and then there are friends and foes ever ready to chip in with a "friendly bit of advice". So I am beholden to add to the mele. Here's my tuppenny, a Singapore travelogue. Follow HyperLinks to access more websites. Click on Photos to enlarge

Legend 

🆒         :  Section Separator . (Scroll down to find the 🆒 one which suits you)

✋ 🚩   :  Stop Read this

🔥        :  Hot Tips

👉      :  Important Tips

👪     :  What Katy Did What we did

A break from the Navy and a 16th birthday called for a special holiday. Now my idea of a special holiday may have meant hours on the road to some remote corner of the country(albeit the end of the road had an AC room with cable, WiFi, a comfortable bed and chilled beer). My wife's would have been, to any exotic place in India, better still a village, in the lap of nature with animals and hours of DSLR moments (serious photography stuff - not my pouting/smouldering selfie type). My daughter's idea would be a trip to a Mall? Books? Dystopian/Extended Univ movies? Dunno? Chilling?(I still haven't figured out a teenagers ideal holiday package or what chilling actually entails). So we choose Singapore. Go figure.

Singapore evokes images of a fine city. Ok! That jokes been literally - umm -  flogged - to an inch of it's life. Anyway we had a fine experience in the fine city and did not get fined (or caned) in the process. Nope, that's flatter. Sigh! I guess, I have no future as a stand up. Better stay off humour for the time being and cut to the chase.

A Govt Building enroute Chinatown Pt

Singapore is one of the most tourist friendly destinations that I have been to. Even if you're Indian. Yes, Thailand was great, people were extremely welcoming,  very tourist friendly, awesome street food, relatively cheap, all great till, well - till you took a trip into a shopping mall especially any of the bargain basement shops.  See what I mean? At Singapore,  people are friendly, ya even fellow naturalised kith n kin. Infact, my experience, they go the extra mile. A camera store sold my wife a $50 filter for her camera and we almost ended up with  an expensive lens. All over a 15 minutes of a - Hi! Hello! - to a walk through (window shopping?!?!) customer.  The myriad Bakkawa shops from Chinatown Pt to pagoda street don't mind if you sample and taste their wares. Clear signboards to tell you where you are and what lies ahead. Even the local buses and bus stops carry a name and a reference number. If you loose your way in this ordered world someone will surely help you on your way. Yes, there's a sense of order. Sanitised and sometimes a bit too orderly at times. Like say, its so so so so green, but you'll never see an overgrown disorderly  bush. Even wild flowers have a sense of, trimmed and tended to, symmetry. ✋But beware 💲🔥Singapore is expensive🔥💲. Very expensive. So please don't walk around with a calculator multiplying S$ X 48.9 = ?? Rupees. It will cost, a bit - Ok a lot?

💲🔥 My guardian angels best tip - The City mapper app saved us lots in commuting. This amazing and Brilliant app is available for both Apple  and Android. It takes off from where Google maps left. Point to point, multi modal transportation. Bus MRT walking Cab. All the  combinations/options dumbed down for guys like me. It goes to the extent of telling you which section of the MRT train (Front, center or rear) to occupy. 🔥💲 

Freefalling @Trickeye 

I tell you why the 'Fine' city joke doesn't fly anymore. It is still a phenomenally clean city and I saw more janitors/house keeping personnel than Cops. But there are signs of change. Yes you do see occasional signs of littering and jaywalkers aplenty, and that's not limited to Little India. But beware, it is by no means cool to saunter across the road distributing popcorn graffiti. 

Post a trip to Ladakh, a couple of years back, I was convinced that there were only two types of tourists. Those who fell in love with Ladakh and those who wondered what's the big deal about the crumbling rocks. I must admit that I was getting ahead of myself. I was probably so overwhelmed by the breathtaking vistas and the arid beauty of a land seemingly crafted by God's own hands, that I forgot that it takes all kinds. The Bikers, the hikers and the Campers. The luxury getaway guys. The lonely solitude seeking guys. The family gang. The groupie gang.  The eat only the local food expeditionary. The eat only the familiar (home type) food conservatives.  The carry your  own meals guys. And finally the touch and go P gang (P = Present Sir - like students attending roll call. Yeah XYZ! Been there. Done that. Big deal! What do you mean, how many days?  Liked the place? Does that count!!) Oh, and so many dozen permutations there on. Each one right in anothers wrongs. Perspective. One man's meat -  another man's poison.

If you have the molah, and are nice enough to leave, Singapore caters for all palates. Almost.

Meat or vegetarian! Food, Yup! That's inevitably the centerpiece of my travels.  The point here is that like tourists, travelogues or blogs, come in just as many flavours. So here's the menu card for this one. Read through or scroll thru to the section of your choice(Stop and follow the embedded links):-

🆒    1.  Blah bblah bbla - that's just me rambling, in the beginning and throughout .....

🆒    2.  Planning the trip to Singapore - the research

Arab Street

🆒    3.  Travel Agent / Online Travel Portal / Plan it yourself ??? - the Budget

🆒    4.  How to apply for a Singapore Visa

🆒    5.  Choosing the Hotel / Room Type

🆒    6.  Things to Do

🆒    7.  Places to eat - vegetarians can breathe easy too  

🆒    8.  Tips and Trivia  - Time n Travel 

🆒    9.  Places to shop 

🆒   10. My Place of Stay - Hotel Village, Bugis 

🆒  11.  My Itinerary 

🆒  12.  Getting to Singapore - The Chennai - layover

So the meat, my meat, my perspective,  is here. I admit that a few days does not do justice to any place. But then a tourist has, but, a few days. So this is what we did, in our quota of a few days. And what a blast we had. So Will I return as a tourist? Most definitely yes, but not before I have covered more ground, at home in India and across the yonder.

Maxwells Food Centre

The options for travel, stay and entertainment are many. Your best friend is the internet. Whatever you choose, I suggest you spend a while on researching the place you want to experience. Say a zoo may have many shows, but there may be a show you may want to see or miss, so plan the visit around the show timing. Other than the attraction opening time, it may be ideal to visit the place at a particular time - say, I would recommend the Singapore Flyer in the evening. 

Now I get to the nuts and Bolts part. Refer to the sections below if you want to travel to Singapore or are just plain curious and / or bored. Otherwise Cheerio till my next Blog  

2. Planning the trip to Singapore.

OK so you have chosen the destination. Thats bigger than the"what to cook" dilemma! Good going! Now chose the means to organise your holiday. The local travel agent or an online resource.  Do net in with previous travelers and friends in Singapore and sites like Trip Advisor. The number of things to do in Singapore is mind boggling and all activities may not be to your taste. For example, everybody likes to visit Sentosa. However, to save time, we preferred to do Universal Studios,  SEA Aquarium and Trickeye museum on one day and left out the rest of the Sentosa attractions.

✋ 🚩 Also please remember to 🔥cater for days lost in transit🔥.
👉 A 6 day 5 night trip is actually 5 days/nights  (the travel agents  count Day 1 as the first day  and not each completed 24 Hrs) and it  finally amounts to only 4 full days. The first day is lost in reaching the hotel and checking in and making yourself comfortable. The last day is lost to checking out and transit to the airport. So 6 days = actually 4 days.

Batik clothes at @Arab street

👉 If you add KL to your package, one day (6 hours or so to be precise) is spent in transit between the two cities.

👉 But Day 1 can be gainfully utilized. For example I would recommend an evening/ night activity on the first day. Like the Night safari or Singapore Flyer or Gardens by the Bay.

👉 If you choose a cruise, then drop a similar activity. Say night views off the Marina.

      ✋🔥 I suggest that you keep at least one/two days spare to make up for last minute shopping or for some repeat/missed attraction.
✋ 🚩 Early Check in : Remember Check In Time is usually 2:00pm and Check out 1200pm
✋ 🚩  Late night/Early morning Flights:  If you are saving a bundle by using a late night flight. You may end up paying for a Day extra if you reach your Hotel early. Talk to them directly before hand-they may accommodate you at a nominal charge. Don't land up early at the Hotel and expect a free/discounted early check-in

👉 Plan to do your minor purchases like SIM card on day 1 (ID Proof : passport)

(If you see a jump break at this point : CLICK BELOW ON THE READ MORE>> FOR THE COMPREHENSIVE STEP BY STEP GUIDE TO PLAN YOUR TRIP)

Reminiscing - Under the White Ensign

THIS BAND OF BROTHERS

It's been exactly a month, that I retired from the Indian Navy, and I'm already feeling nostalgic. Part of me is like, in the brig - what do you do with all this time. And part of me is, to tell you the truth, having a chill out time. I mean I never realized that so much can be done, whilst doing nothing.  The perverse  pleasure of going out for leisurely walks when others are scrambling to launch and reach office in time. Actually falling asleep while doing yoga. My canine kiddo is loving her daily perambulations too. Letting your dog sniff every nook and mark every corner (I guess that's her version of Social networking). No hurry to get back within a time frame. Bliss!  Hey I could get used to this! Hmmm! Anyway the sabbatical continues for a month or so, till I step onto the fast lane again. Till then snooze away. 26 years, man,  I've earned this break.

The reactions to my last blog (Au Revoir on Swallowing the Anchor) has left me overwhelmed. Farewells are wonderful. They make the people in your extended universe say the most wonderful things to you. On a serious note. Overwhelmed by the mails, phone calls, texts. Thank you.  The journey has indeed been awesome.

Talking of  journey's and Extended Universe's ( EU's are in vogue, what with Marvel and DC leading the charge - even  Thor  can make money before launch, ably assisted by my fav Hulk. And Bman v Sman move over, Wonder woman rocks. Even the bad guys in the fantasy EU rock, aka Suicide Squad). Nope! This post is not about movies or comic book Heroes. It's about the Extended and Parallel universe (s) that I have inhabited for the last 26 years. It's a tribute to the many who have made my memories beautiful.

At the center of this EU is a Band of Brothers we like to call coursemates.  Concentric and overlapping circles and elipses (and squares and whatever weird geometric and freeform figures you can think of). Some join you around the volatile times when you're just 18 years old, others at 21. Other inhabitants include Squadron types, Ship types, place types, Cadre types, Branch types, gym types - seniors juniors - you-think-of-a-link types. Maybe even a loose nut here and there -  psycho types (the ultra marathoner gang, the cycling to the far corners of the world gang etc - not me for sure), - et all types. Anything for a reason to affiliate and bond, to build a family beyond your family. Not surprisingly, matters of  faith remain strictly restricted to the Flag, the  Country and the Men you command . For the uninitiated, living the Chetwode Motto. (Aptly enunciated here) 

So, as a  tribute, I'll step back in time, ramble some more and play hopscotch with reminiscences. (For those who know of what I say - Guys! Mundane Musings needs to be reborn).

It's a dawgs world : Chaggu the Cadet.
At the Naval Academy cadets are allocated squadron's. These are not merely a home away from home for 3 years. These are the epicenter of your universe. Naturally fierce loyalties and rivalries, spawn forth. The NAVAC of our times was at Goa with just about two Squadrons, Destroyers and Frigates. It was - Us/Me of the - Mighty Destroyers aka Daggers vs the (flimsy excuse called) Frigates aka Falcons (really? You think?)       Chaggu, the puppy, burst forth into our lives in the midst of a fierce war during the dramatics competition. That is, he had a  (ok, well 2 sec) role, in our skit and the foolish Falcons were hell bent on kidnapping him and presenting him as their mascot. What followed were secret maritime operations that can't be put in the public domain. Needless to say, Chaggu was repeatedly kidnapped and rescued. But the daggers prevailed. It ended on a slightly tragic and painful note. Not used to constant change of habitat and stardom he lodged his vehement protest. He bit and pee'd all over yours truly at the grand finale. That he did that on stage in full view of the academy was just another little issue. But there is a silver lining, I got a chance to visit heaven/resort, viz the MI room (as the local medical facilities are known). And in true naval tradition, I,  was sentenced to a full course of anti-rabies shots. This meant  periodic visits to the free world as the main hospital was located in the heart of civilization, away from the walls of the academy.

Fire 🔥 Fire :
One of the eventualities, that every man or woman in the navy, is drilled to an inch of their lives, is to combat  fire, and structural damage. Imagine a fire on a steel building floating out at Sea - I mean really- Float???? (despite all these years I'm still not fully in agreement with Mr Archimedes ). With scores of little compartments made of steel. And zillions of of things that are naturally combustible. I mean they are meant to catch fire at some time. Like Fuel and ammunition among others. (My faith in these drills  was reinforced time and again, especially  as a Midshipman, when we had an accident on board leading to a major fire. This is the first time I saw actual metal on fire). Among the first reactions on sighting a fire is to bellow , with full lung power that you can muster, FIRE FIRE FIRE. This reminds me of an incident during our ab initio courses as  Sub Lieutenants. After a fruitful liberty out-pass, a coursemate and I, returned late into the night. Our steed of metal, a contraption that bore the Number Plate and moniker 'GAS'. An argument on the Indian obsession of 'Kitna deti hai' (Miles to a liter of fuel) hinged on the owner proving that the tank was still half full, ending, with a peek-a-boo with a cigarette lighter. Gas exploded with full gusto. Whether we were ejected or bailed out, I do not remember. It was violent and with a lot of force. But I do remember, that years of  Training (of some other nearby SLts - who shall not be named) kicked in. While GAS stoically burned the shouts of FIRE FIRE FIRE rang across the officers mess. Later we realized that one guy was shouting F F F and another was running behind him shouting - "Stop! Thats bloody 'GAS', not my blanket, not my bucket you F F F". Gas doused in a dignified manner, my claim-for lack of combustible material, and the owners claim - due to proper use of "F" Fighting equipment. Anyway one thing was ensured for the rest of our stay. Parking was never an issue - GAS always got right of way. Many years later GAS got a ceremonial burial at Sea. (Some say it was driven off the Jetty.....But..... That's another story for another time.)

A Penny  Lid for your Thoughts (or a Kick on your Posterior:)
Have you ever wondered why the men and women of the uniform are so stoic? Stand endlessly, face extreme hardships face fire - all without expressing emotions! Training training training, and well, lessons well learnt, sometimes with a 'kick' on the posterior. An anecdote here of a senior (who shall again, not be named) a firebrand and my Training Commander at one of the training schools where I was an 'under trainee' officer. A farewell dinner is usually brought to a close by presenting the departing officer and his wife with mementos. Followed by the Commanding officer speaking  a few (very very kind) words and rounded up with a thank-you speech by the departing officer. Now everything, even spontaneous, has protocols and timing. This senior often gives vent to his poetic side. After thanking the CO for his kind words he wound up with in a lighter vien - "Yaaroon mujhe ye mat pucho ke main yahan kya karta tha! Main Andhoon ke shehar mein aaeena becha karta tha" (Literally, loosely translates to - Friends don't ask me what I did here, In effect it was like selling a looking glass in a town of blind people) (now  those blind men were my clueless kind of trainees or someone else, I'll reserve judgement). So naturally the whole audience broke into a wild applause. Or so I thought, till I realized that it was only me who was cheering at full steam. Imagine the pin drop silence, that could be cut with a knife. Well I got a "NICE",  cup of tea with the incoming and outgoing Training Cdrs and loads of time on the Drill Square to fine tune my "sense of timing."
Then there was this maverick who also went onto wear double brass. Our first encounter. Shortly after I had met with an accident. All banged up, saved by a Helmet. Broken jaw, maxilla busted. He loped over to me, menacingly. Glared fiercely and said -"Yeah! So You're Jairath!" I managed to squeak a puzzled "Yes Sir!" . He glared me down for a minute burst into a smile struck out his hand and beamed through his beard "Bloody chap,  B#$%, Welcome to the headbangers club." This Naval Diver, remained mentally and physically fit despite a near death experience in his younger years. Always quick with joke and a sharp wit, in the most stressful times. His stories range from - kicking his course mate (in jest of course) in full public view at the customary  mess function, on attaining  double brass, and saying - "Its been my life long ambition to kick an admiral - fortunately he's my course mate." Years later when I missed a crucial board, he was the only one, and THE one in fact, to give me the sanest advice. Again I was down and out and he picked me up with his firm hand shake and drawled -"Cheers and congratulations! Look at the brighter side! Baldy, You're free now!"

Me No Speak English :
Travels and ports of call are a part of Naval Life. It happened in Sydney,Australia. A hectic liberty, a visit to Chinatown and Paddy's  Market for some cheap souvenirs. Now Australia is one place where we least expect to see panhandlers. A peer and I were waiting for our transport back to the ship. We noticed a petite young woman, well dressed, walking our way. Any guy, especially a 40 plus, balding guy, weighed down with loads of packages, would be surprised when a woman walks up to you stops in half stride and addresses you. That my friend was a "homely" type with an absolutely-married-man-look added to the unexpectedness of the encounter. What confounded us more was that she stuck out a manicured hand (Yes! Men do notice!!) and said "Can you give me some money". My idea of a beggar was a bedraggled look! An unwashed faced. Not top of the line Nike's and manicured fingers! And she did not look distressed in any way! We were so stunned that a half lit cigarette fell from my lips!  The lady might have had some genuine reasons for her actions, not being judgmental here, but we were dumbfounded! It was like lightning had struck ! After a minute my married-look-man friend recovered and said in a deliberate broken English "Me-me no speak English." I continued to gawk! Speechless! She tried her level best to mime her words but we were too stunned for words! The pantomime continued for what seemed ages! My friend repeating endlessly "No English! No English!" , me nodding my head vigorously and the lady getting more exasperated by the minute. Ultimately she gave up on us and moved on! I think she half reached into her pockets to lend us a few cents! Thankfully.... or maybe embarrassingly, our car drove up to save the penniless from the speechless!

I can go on an on. And perhaps will in my next. But for now let me say that  this Extended Universe shall remain Inviolable. Its difficult to put mere words to terms like course mates or Pal. Like when your wife asks you, (even after 10-15-20-??? years of marriage and in the system) "But how can you tolerate this guy, I mean you obviously don't like him" or "I can't stick him"- the only words that you have "Yes, Ya, I know, Hmmm, But .... He's my coursemate Ya...!" or "We're Squadron Types" or "We're Ship types"    Comprehendo?

As I move on in life all I can say is - "I may be out of touch but you will never be out of my mind". 

Au Revoir on Swallowing the Anchor

Tacking to new Shores

14th of July 1991, Goa. As the train slowly rumbled into Vasco-da-Gama Railway station, 3 young 18 year olds, took in the sights of the sea for the first time. Monsoon seas, swollen and bursting forth with the unbridled energy of youth . Now 15 Sep 17. A/N. Clear blue skies, calm glassy oceans.  The wheel has turned full circle. Feeling just as overwhelmed. Ironic but my last day in whites, was quite in the blues.

Like Hanging up my Second Skin

I have been waiting a while for this moment. It's been building up like a slow moving storm front. Invisible, but all around me. For the past few months,  I have seen a plethora of posts, on Social Media, marking "that" moment.  Posts on "a glorious life well lived", "hanging the uniform for the last time", "done and dusted", "let go Number 1", and so on. Well,  not really every instant, I have to admit the churn rate is low, but then it's human nature to notice, what one wants to notice.  

Now, it's that time for me too. Time to say my final goodbyes. Time to move on. Break open the bubbly. I guess I need to bring out the Thesaurus, or rather speak out, with a twang, a crisp - "Ok Google" . Dish out the poetry. Lay it on thick. Count the myriad "likes" and the comments - "Anchor's aweigh buddy", "we'll remember you", "best of luck", 😄 etcetera etcetera. 

The emotional split is much more than mere words can harness. (Hey, all you folks reading this - that's a hint 😉😉. I need, the after parties, beyond the farewells). I search for words in this tempest in my mind, clutching dearly at the memories that flood my thoughts. I look at how famous people verbalised in such times. Somehow, no quote seems to fit the bill.

The problem with quotations is that they are rarely in context. Take for example -

"Nothing in his life. Became him like the leaving it.." sounds good here?  

Ok I'll do the full quote "A deep repentance. Nothing in his life. Became him like the leaving it." Macbeth Act 1, scene 4, 1–8.  LOL. You don't have to be Shakespeare to answer that. Do you?

Yes it is, an emotional moment.   And there are no regrets. Twentysix years in white is a long time. Some do longer, but I've done my time. Paid my debts. To my country and to myself. Four years as, a cadet, at the Naval Academy and at Sea, and then as a Midshipman in the Fleet and then, on earning my stripes, 22 years plus, as an officer. Long enough for this "way of life" to be embedded in my DNA, my very core. A life well lived. A life of honour, a life with a purpose , every moment, a moment of Pride. Now, I do agree that everyone is unique, and God (or Nature if you please) made us all different, but there is that underlying thread. You cannot touch it, yet, it's so palpable. This is my life, a way of life. But when the time comes, and mind you sooner or later it comes for everyone, you have to move on. The reminiscences remain, the good times, the bittersweet moments but the invisible umbilical cord needs to be cut. Even Billy Joel's - 'Davy', who's, ostensibly,  still in the Navy, And probably will be for life - will need to move on one day. La la la, di da da, La la, di da da da dum; I wish had my very own Pianoman, who'd, Sing me a song. Sing me a song tonight.

The past month has been consumed with waves of nostalgia. As the clock ticked. Each day brought forth a deluge of emotions and memories. Trepidation and anticipation of new adventures beyond the life in whites. Farewell parties and Godspeed messages. After/Noon 15 Sep 2017. What's in a day you say! So many have passed that fairway buoy at the mouth of a channel; onto the great beyond. These Indelible Milestones! Just a date in the calendar? Only a sailor can tell the importance of each light house, a charted reef, a shoal, a star or a navigational mark. For the romantics, the sun arcs across the sky  on it's blazing journey every day, and the stars  and constellations that  light up the night have fanciful names and tell intriguing tales. But then, only a sailor can claim - "my ship", "she runs on these celestial paths".

It has been the best of times and I have seen worst of times. Cities and harbours, bays and anchorages, near and far. From Parades, miles under the keel and showing the Flag, to nature's furies of storms and cyclones, earthquakes and a Tsunami . Every turn of the wheel brought forth new harbours, new dwellings. Not just for me, for my family too. A fresh lick of paint  here and a new school there. A new set of adventures a new set of friends. Waves breaking over the hull leaving frothing memories in its wake. Every moment brought forth a new challenge, a new bonding and reaffirmed a faith, faith in your country, your team and your men. Faith, that the only things that last forever are commitment, human values and professionalism. And, the invisible umbilical cord.

I have a lot to be thankful for. The pillar of my strength, my wife who took each new day as a vagabond, in her stride. Who kept the homefires burning and made each new billet a home.  My daughter who changed schools faster than she probably flipped pages in her Math textbook. My family that extended beyond my parents, sibling, wife, daughter, course mates, friends, various dogs, cats  and creatures that made our life beautiful and interesting. People who I never knew, but could safely entrust my near and dear ones too, just because they were related to me by the colour white. Those who taught me, led me. Those fine men and women who followed me. Those who supported me. Faces, some emblazoned in my memory palace, as anchors, safe harbours and beacons, others a blur. Each one a part of this big family that we call the Indian Navy. Names, names, names. Humans look for names. A family is more than a name, a faceless all encompassing blanket.   The family that made me strong and secure. Who helped me get up each time I felt weak and beaten, who held me back when I was pulling too strong at the rope, who were the wind in my sails. Too many names to spell out. All I can say is thank you. I am, therefore I am. I am, wherefore my extended family, I'll always be indebted. It's been an overwhelming journey.Thankyou

Yet this is just one chapter from a book of life, waiting for me to turn the pages. Just reaching the cusp of middle ages and civvy street beckons. Yet , still, every time I hear the naval band strike up the tunes of  "Jai Bharti", I feel like  stepping out to a march. Just like my first term as a cadet, the adventures have just begun. I pick up the oars again. Shano Varuna . Jai Hind

It all began here - Naval Academy Ist term -I'm second from right - Dec 1991

Naval academy IInd Term - with 10+2 X Flag - Champs -Standing 3rd from left - Early 1992

Naval Academy IVth Term - Mid 1993

Naval Academy VIth Term Destroyer Squadron - Last row 2nd from right - Mid 1994

Naval Academy VIth Term - At the back standing - Early 1994

Parajump Course - Reach for the skies and fall with a thump - Mid 1994

Cadet Training Ship - Me - Forever Hungry - 1994

Sub Courses - Bikers gang - Me third from Left - Jan 1996

Sub Courses - Korula and Me - 'GAS' the super bike - en route Mahabaleshwar

At last my own bike - Jamnagar to Mumbai  Mid 1996 

Cabin of Chaos - The Seas were always kind -  End 1997

Tsunami Relief - Jan 2005

Mother Natures Fury - after the Tsunami - Galle, Sri Lanka The famous cricket stadium - Jan 2005

Kankesanthurai, After the Tsunami - Jan 2005

Mother Nature - At its beautiful best  - Lakshwadweep

2006

Freemantle, Australia - Mid 2013

Jarvis Bay - 2013

Sydney Harbour - 2013

HMAS Kuttabul , Sydney - 2013

Darling Harbour Sydney

Harry's Cafe De Wheels, Woolloomooloo, Sydney

Surabaya 2013

Mitchel Street, Darwin 2014

Mamala Bay Golf Course, Hickam, Ohau, Hawaii

Pearl Harbour -Battleship Memorial - USS Missouri

Mokolii,Chinaman’s Hat, Oahu, Hawaii

In the Belly of the beast - USS Ronald Regan - RIMPAC

In the Eye of a storm - Cyclone Hudhud -Visakhapatnam 2014

All blown away - Hudud 2014

4-8-6         20 years     - 1995 to 2015

2016

My Family my strength

Sambhar on my Jeans

TRAVELS AND TRAVAILS OF THE BALD AND THE BEAUTIFUL 

Sannidhanam Mini Breakfast Thali

   As I write this, myriad fragrances, including Sambhar, waft around me. Smells of Indian Railways. Smell of Sambhar. I'm so fed up, quite literally, that I'm off any sort of South Indian cuisine  - well, at least for a week. Now don't get me wrong. I love Food. And Sambhar-rice ranks right up there, right next to peanut-butter-jelly sandwiches and khichdi with curds.  Soul food. Yes, you guessed right, my eating habits are pretty  eclectic. Eclectic but not repetitive. That's my point. I can't eat the same stuff. Particularly not the same stuff for breakfast, lunch and dinner. And I, definitely, do mind, dollops of it on my jeans. Hmm overstated?! So what! I mind food droppings on my jeans. Period! But we'll get to that part soon.

   The year 2017 has been a year of travel for the bald and the beautiful. That's yours truly and my better half. I know, you put the donkey before the cart. But for health and safety reasons, I, the donkey, am mentioned first. And Indian English demands the correct sequence to be "me and my wife"  not " my wife and me". See -  the donkey  before the cart!

Alipiri Tirupati

   Travelled a lot. Together as Fire and Ice and separately as Hot and Cool. (Here also, the sequence is not relevant. Again for marital health and safety reasons). Travelled Far and Near. Let's see. Lucknow, Delhi, Guruyavur, Kochi, Bangalore, Udaipur, Tirupati, Tirumala, Shri Kalahasti, Sadum, Hyderabad, Port Blair and in and around Visakhapatnam. Many a great circle paths (and before my naval navigators jump up to point out and hair split the anomaly) and as the crow flies and walks. To think of it, not even three-fourths of the year has gone by. Still more travels beckon.

   The main purpose of these travels were varied. Some for work, some for family functions, marriages, some for fun and some for the sheer cussedness of blowing a hole in our monthly budget. The highlight has always been FOOD. Food of all varieties. And officially my wife is vegetarian. I'll, ahem, stand by that, officially. Both of us are pretty adventurous about our gastronomic exploits. My wife's weakness is NOT a requirement of having a least one rice based meal a day. My weakness, age, a stomach which is no longer made of cast iron and need for a spoon. For the latter, I must submit, that, my objections to eating with bare hands, or to be more precise without a spoon, was more about hygiene. It had nothing  to do with any deficiency in fine motor skills or any North Indian haughtiness. Hey I've been eating roti (Indian  flat bread) all my life with my hands. And.... and..... sandwiches. Though, in my wife's, South Indian opinion, I have evolved in the 18 years of marriage. In short I have been kind of, tamed.  

   To put things in perspective,  of now and then. I do remember a 'Mellu' wedding sadhya (feast) at Calicut (pronounced: Kozhikode : with a lot of marbles in your mouth). Well, yes this wedding. In a crowd of about a hundred or thousand or millions (depending on who is telling the tale) eating the sumptuous itsy bitsy, but numerous, malayali delicacies, off a banana leaf, dexterously with bare hands. I did something worse than our man Oliver Twist. I asked for a spoon. Suddenly, there was pin drop silence. The calm before the Tidal wave. And then the Tsunami of whispers grew into an incredulous gasp. Spoon. Punjabi. (For the uninitiated - for all Madrasi's, as the people South of the Vindhyas are referred to, all people north of the the Vindhya mountains are Punjabi's). That my roots can be traced to both sides of the Punjab and I am domicile of Lucknow, a UPite, and was born in Jammu (and grew up around Kannadiga's, Malayali's and  Tamilians) is an altogether different story. Anyway, I scandalised the entire kudumbam (family / clan / khandan), and  that I am alive to tell the tale, is because I was issued a small ladle. But that could at least be used to scoop the liquid curries. (Curry - in Mallu land, any cooked food other than rice bread etc). In my defense - I did not ask for a bowl. 

   Today I am proud to say that of all my North-South-East-West Indian friends, I alone can squat comfortably on the floor and eat with my bare (cleaned and washed) hands. A trifle exaggerated, but then the focal point being - comfortably. Though rasam still gets to me. That tasty preparation is the devil's device to denigrate evolved-equitable-non-prejudiced guys like me  (you get the idea? Not racist? BTW haven't found the antonym of racist - there is a word miscegenist ! But that tends more to amorous than prejudice). Rasams revenge, that's what did the jeans in. My jeans. And to add insult to injury, we are traveling and I lost the keys. So I have no change till we reach back home and am able to break into our luggage.   

View of Tirupati from Tirumala

   This particular trip we landed up early morning at 0530 at Tirupati. Now any morning that does not involve golf should not begin before 10 o'clock. But then that's another story. Any trip to Tirupati and around is a tale begging to be told. The sheer aura the passion that Sri Venkateswara temple evokes is beyond words. And the stories of the devoted (husband, a lamb called me, who has never ever walked barefoot for hours in pouring rain for any other cause, Marital Bliss). But this fable is about Sambhar on my Jeans. Anyway, so we grab a cab. Not an Ola/Uber, but, dunno why, got lured by a smiling and courteous cab driver into his antique ambassador. I love the people here. Anyone who rides an Amby has to have a heart of gold. That wonderful car, that was, maybe, the only car actually designed for India. Anyway breakfast at Tirumala (at a must eat place called Sannidhanam) awesome Dosa Upma Chutney(s) and SAMBHAR. I'll skip further details but must submit that lunch was a South indian buffet with oodles of Sambhar and a few South Indian dishes masquerading as North Indian and (the Lord be merciful) Chinese (at an over hyped avoidable place called Saarangi). Dinner again at Sannidhanam - Sambhar something. Next morning started with Breakfast - Sambhar Upma.  Lunch after Darshan, Annaprasadam (free food from the God's abode) also, mind you, predominantly Sambhar Rice. Snacks at the market around the temple. (In my memory, so overwhelmed  with one predominant flavour, even veg Manchurian nuggets or Samosas tasted of Curry leaves  and Sambhar). Dinner - called Tiffins ( Dosa Sambhar). Roll over to Breakfast on the go, a mini breakfast thali (an assortment of Upma pongal idli vada dosa coconut Chutney peanut Chutney and Sambhar). 

   

   Lunch at my daughter's school ( a nutritious meal of organic red rice, organic vegetable curries and Sambhar). Back to the Hotel and Dinner, biryani with a side dish that looked like some curry but tasted like ...... Sambhar. Complimentary Breakfast - guess ? This and that and, Sambhar. 

   The hotel kicked us out at noon. So we planned a trip to Shri Kalahasti. The architecture is awe inspiring. Shiva Shakti and the story of the staunch devotees of Lord Shiva - Sri (the Spider), Kala (the serpent) and Hasti (the Elephant). The numerous other stories engraved in stone. Each mural each Shiva Lingum a fascinating story in itsef. That is another Blogworthy account, but for now Lunch. My wife and I decided (notice the sequence), that we must savour the local cuisine, as the locals do. The cab driver suggests a local roadside dhaba or  Mess (named something something some God's name, Mess). The "Meals" are served on a Banana leaf (as the) plate. NO SCOPE of a SPOON here. Excellent food. Now, point to note is that, I have become quite proficient in using my hand to eat. But have yet to conquer the final frontier. Liquids. I mean absolute water consistency. The real McCoy Quick Gun Murugun, can fashion his palm into a scoop and, well scoop up the liquid in one fluent dexterous  motion, that will put the legendary wrist spinner Chandrashekhar to shame. (And as some - some not me - North Indians would say -  Lick his hands to the tips of his/her fingers). And it's done so fast that you don't even have time to say GROSS.

   That's when the Adventure happened. No matter how tasty the grub, the local Mess has to optimise, if has to serve unlimited food at 60 bucks a pop. Water the universal solvent comes to the rescue. The meal is served hot. Hot steaming rice is piled  onto the leaf. And in quick succession the veg and other accompaniments  are loaded onto the rice. So before I could say GROSS, some mixture of dal, rasam and Sambhar flowed downstream. My comical efforts to form walls of hot rice failed miserably and it dribbled along the banana leaf onto my lap. And "All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this" pair of jeans. "Out damn spot, Out."    

   Dinner at Tirupati railway station, veg pulao with a liquid that strongly resembles  watered down - Sambhar. And maybe for the one and only time in my life, I skipped breakfast. Breakfast on the train back home. I steadfastly pretended to be fast asleep. No screams of Chai, Idli, Dosai, Vadai - from the vendors could shake the giant. My wifes prods and pokes were rebuffed equally stoically. Vizag beckons, the train has a agenda of its own, delayed by over 2 hours. Playing mind games. Vendors pass pass by redolent of Sambhar. Friends call, fix a movie date. Lunch - "How about a South Indian Thali Meal". (The correct term is meals:pronounced Mills). Noooo. every inch of my body quakes.  Anything but Sambhar. "We will, ahem, freshen up and have food at the Punjabi Dhaba. Never mind the Curry leaves".  

Punjabi Dhaba Vizag - Manna from the heavens

   Ladies and Gentlemen it's not just my jeans that smell of Sambhar, my entire being, my soul, is Sambhar drenched. This will take some washing.

View from our Hotel at Tirupati

Srikalahasti - Unfortunately Camera's not allowed beyond this point

Colourful Markets that dot the temple towns

The carving on the right is a wooden piece due for restoration - more than 50 years old

Verdant Hills