A Road Oft travelled and Zara's last road trip

Zara n Me - Rajahmundry

I'm here at the infamous crossroads. That moment in life, a lifetime till it passes. Not the first to reach this milestone, not the last and not the only one. Lets just say, I travel as much in company, as alone. As light as the shirt on my back. And heavy with the burden of complex emotions, that we humans claim, puts us right up there, on top of the food chain.

The past year has been pretty tough. Illness in the family, uncertainty, separation and bereavement. More uncertainty.  Just adding up flying miles of endless journeys. And the circular motion of it brings you right back to where it all starts.

I've been yearning to break free. Break out. Feel the caress of the wind blowing through my hair. (Stop! This is my,  a bald mans, fantasy - wind blowing through whatever little growth there is, what once were flowing tresses). Maybe it's the right time for a journey Che?  I'm no Ernesto Rafael, and a bike ride would indeed be revolutionary for a guy now used to the creature comforts of an Air Con and the stability of four wheels. In my defence, the weather in my part of the world is hot hotter hottest and grislyly (is that a word?) humid.

As a young man, I  did traverse the length and breadth of this land on bikes, but then AirCon was a luxury and Global Warming never occurred to us. Whatever!! As a family man, Car it is. What about a buddy buddy road trip?  But the problem was that, I was not in a buddy buddy mood with humans. And my Dog Zara, or cat Dosa, for that matter, can't drive.  Though Zara loves the ride and Dosa hates it with equal measure. Romantic? At 46 it doesn't sound romantic. Sounds more like an approaching men-o-pause mid life crisis

SPOILER ALERT : THIS BLOG IS NOT A PHILOSOPHICAL "ZEN AND THE ART OF MOTORCYCLE MAINTENANCE" KIND OF TREATISE. 

For the pedantic, the only thing I know about Zen, is how to spell it, and motorcycle maintenance, however romantic it sounds, is definitely not on the cards.

Life presents opportunities. Sometimes unwanted. Mine came with the end of the school year and board exams of my daughter, and the need to take our Zara to her new family. So yes there was a rider. Quite literally four. My Wife and Zara, and later our daughter. Come to think of it, all our longer car rides have been with the three of us, with some part of our ever proliferating menagerie. But this time was different. It was time for our daughter to bid farewell to boarding school and time for Zara to go to her new home. Poignant. Separation. The last trip as a family, for some time to come. 

Vizag (Visakhapatnam for the uninitiated) to Bengaluru (Bangalore). A distance of more than 1000 Km each way. Down the scenic  East coast of India and then cutting across the deccan via Tirupati to everyone's favourite/cool cool city, Bengaluru. The bulk of our journey was on National Highway 16. (About 700+ Km). Depending on the detours enroute it is about 180-200 Km cutting across from the East Coast and then onto National Highway 75 (about 100-130 Km) for Bangalore.  For those interested in the Distances, Tips, Hotel reviews, Tolls, Journey metrics, Speed etc, please scroll to the end of this blog, after the jump break. Heads up. This is not an off-roader trail. Good to excellent roads. Enough pit stops along the way. Cell phone coverage almost throughout. So trust the lady that speaks out from the Google Maps App. Though, be warned, she does like to take shortcuts and at times leads you through some interesting country roads. And she has an abominable accent. (Though me wonders if it's a setting issue or plain woman power thingie, the lady on my wife's phone has a pretty much Indian accent).

Zara has very little of personal stuff. Mainly a few toys she's pretty possessive about. But we packed for  her like the parents of a bride. The seats were pushed back and lowered. Her mattress was laid out. Then her pet carrier was packed with every thing hers, from brushes to shampoos, to medicines to towels to food/water bowls, et all. Her  trousseau was carefully placed in the car. Then we squeezed in our bags. And an icebox/cooler and other knick knacks.

Surprisingly the Brezza has lots of space out at the back. Later we stuffed in a huge suitcase+small suitcase+bags+++ (ex-teenager-leaving-hostel) and also the teenager with more its n bits that followed in her wake. Of course Zara graciously gave up her bed and moved up front, ridding shotgun on the co-passengers lap, or curled up in his/her footwell. Yes space. My Brezza, was raring to take me on the journeys we had promised each other a year back. In this journey, as a family we have a come a long way. Serious upgrades. From a Bike, to a tank like Premier Padmini, to a WagonR to a "compact" SUV, city slicker ride. Wanderlust. The roads beckon again.

Preparations, primarily, had meant booking Pet friendly accommodation and downloading offline Google Maps for the entire stretch. The onward  journey was split into 4 days (easily doable in 3, or even 2 days if your Zen is trucking)
Day 1 : Vizag - Vijayawada
Day 2 : Vijayawada - Tirupati
Day 3 : Tirupati - The Peepal Grove School
Day 4 : PGS - Bangalore

The return journey was left to unfold at its own pace.

Day 1 : Vizag - Vijayawada (366 Km - 8h)

We were in no hurry. And we took our leisurely time. A break every hour to walk or feed Zara. Little breaks to extend our time with her. Breaks to change around driving duties. It's a miracle that we still managed an average speed of 45+ km per hour in this section.

The road from Vizag to Vijayawada is a four laner. You're pretty much safe on your side of the divider except for the occasional Speedy Gonzales's driving on the wrong side of the road. The traffic is pretty heavy leaving Vizag and in the town's / townships(which were once villages), enroute.

And here's the rub. On a 4 lane highway an ecosystem develops  around it, and at times almost on it. Towns, villages, tea shops and a varied assortment of businesses keep popping up, merrily encroaching at will. A slice of semi-urbanised India, lively and buoyant. Whereas the newer 6 laners are like a barren vastness, punctuated with the occasional Fuel Pumps, lay-byes, or Toll plazas. Otherwise pure nothingness. Air-strips running endlessly from one  toll booth to another. These are wide open spaces which have seemingly barricaded life away . Antiseptic, but a motorists delight? Really? Yes, if zip zap zoom is your fix. If the focus is to cover distances, point to point. I guess everyone has their own high.

Backwaters off Rajahmundry

The highway skirts Rajahmundry town. And just before the Godavari river Google decided to take us on a detour. We took a beautiful route across various bridges and along canals and tributaries that make up the Godavari delta. We loved it, Zara loved it and the country roads were a welcome relief, full of life and bereft of the truckers. On the journey back, we stuck to the highway-NH 16. Google was right, NH 16 was longer, looping in an arc closer to the coast. Lush green, but nothing like the country roads and with lots of traffic and trucks/trailers.

The section between Rajahmundry(on the banks of the Godavari River) and Vijayawada(Krishna River) straddles one of most fertile areas of Andhra Pradesh. The ride is scenic and comfortable, but the traffic density is higher, increasing as we reach the outskirts of Vijayawada, particularly after the airport. The entire section is dotted with Toll booths and every time you shell out you wonder why you're paying, because invariably the worst sections are near the Toll plazas. I almost reached out and asked the booth attendant to pay me for using the road.

We reached our Airbnb lodgings by late afternoon and settled down into a spacious and comfortable room (my wifes misgivings based on the colour scheme - purple - proved wrong) on the second floor of a house, with a big sitout and flowers all around.  Very friendly and hospitable hosts. The three of us crashed out after a "Swiggy" delivered dinner.

Day 2 : Vijayawada - Tirupati (414 Km - 6h 15m)

Breakfast at Vijayawada Homestay

The lady at the Airbnb gave us an awesome home cooked breakfast. And she loved dogs. A one way ticket to our hearts.

The second day is always easier. Nah we were not getting battle hardened. The road got better. Hugely better. Amaravati, which abuts Vijayawada, is slated to be the new capital of the Andhra Pradesh. And it shows on the highway. Massive 6 laners where you can actually floor the pedal, put your car in cruise control and fly. There are lot of hotels/Pit stops/Fuel Pumps between Vizag and Vijayawada. But after Vijayawada it keeps getting more desolate. Yes abundant Fuel pumps etc , but lifeless. Of course the suicidal Gonzales's, driving on the wrong side may appear, but they are rare, and you have enough place to manoeuvre to freedom. Yes the scenery is not as pleasing, but hang on you're about to takeoff. Well mostly. Zara too, was resigned to her fate and slept through.

The most exciting part was the police/Election commision(?) check posts that started popping up  Ostensibly they were looking for people ferrying cash?? I had visions of joining a line of cars and someone ditching a huge bag of cash onto my path. Alas, dreams don't come true with ease. The Pajero will have to wait.

Probably because of the Krishnapatnam port and surrounding industries, traffic increases manyfold near Nellore. About 80 Km beyond Nellore, we have to turn off the NH 16 towards Tirupati. The airstrip changes into a shady and scenic, but, poor mans highway. Bumpy in parts but generally a good drive. The Brezza's comfy shocks helped. Meandering roads back in touching distance of life. Big mobile woolly mammoths (tractor/wagons overloaded with hay from the paddy harvest) jostling for space. We made good time and reached our destination in Tirupati "Nayath Serviced Apartments". Large spacious 1 BHK apartment meant for  a larger family, but for us a Pet friendly haven. Mixed emotions, we would get to meet our daughter tomorrow, but another daughter would be leaving us the next day.

Day 3 : Tirupati - The Peepal Grove School (79 Km - 3h)

Bao Chan

Our daughters school nestles  in a verdant valley, in Chittoor district. The name stems from the concept of buddha gaining enlightenment under a peepal tree. And yes there are a few Peepal trees. We had time to kill and a short distance to cover. It was the last of the board exams and we did not want be a distraction to the young lady. So the aim was to reach late. Tirupati is home to a lot of ancient temples and forts. But we had already covered most of it. Google came to our rescue and ensured that we took as many country roads and back lanes as possible.

Vakula Mata Temple

A short distance outside Tirupati on the Kalpakkam road, in the Peruru village, is the Vakula Maata temple. This temple is part of the Lord Venkateswara lore that is both fascinating and intriguing. The Lady was Lord  Srinivasa's mother. The temple is believed to have been very opulent and studded with ornate jewels. Built in a manner that her visage faces the seven hills, where her son Lord Venkateswara resides. It now stands forlorn and abandoned. Since it is in the foothills the temple has faced pillage and defacement by the various indavers.

Rani mahal
Chandragiri

Rajarajeshwari Temple

Then Google aunty did it again. She tried to link us from NH 140 to NH 71 through a back road that hadn't even been built (was under construction). Go figure. Anyway we looped back on NH 140 and came across Chandragiri Fort. The ramparts of the fort barely exist. Remnants of its walls can be seen stretching across the hills. If planning a visit check AP tourism for the timings of the Museum  (it was closed when we visited) and the Light and Sound show.
  What remains, of this capital of the Vijayanagar Empire, is the Rani mahal which is now a museum and the Rajarajeshwari temple.

Walls of the Chandragiri Fort
snaking their way up the hill

Chandragiri

The highway constructions/expansions are going on in full swing along all the roads between here and beyond, towards Chennai and Bangalore. So Google took us along another country ride, 40 km journey through chittoor district. And we reached in time to greet our board-vanquishing princess. The evening was spent in the throes of teenage expressions of nostalgia and freedom and packing up.

Day 4 : PGS - Bangalore (173 Km - 4h 30m)

 PGS is known for the generous helpings of Red Rice served in the mess. Exotic food for visiting parents. Students, I guess, to put it mildly, would beg to differ.  PGS gave my daughter much more than healthy food and a nurturing education. It has made her more confident and all grown up. But it was time for the last goodbye.

The journey from PGS to bangalore cuts through little towns and villages this time peppered with cops looking for suitcases filled with cash. Still no one dumped a bag in my lap! Sigh!

The Old Lady at her New Home

We reached bangalore without any further incident. Reached Zara's new home. The most difficult part is letting go. There are angels in this world. These angels stepped forward to give our Zara a home. A home where she will be loved and taken care of.  The pain of letting her go will never go. But this had to be done.This is the best home we could have found for her. A family with 4 dogs. Two boxers, one with an amputated leg. An indie and another indie pup who they have recently rescued. She is surrounded by people who love her. Out of respect for their privacy I'm not naming the angels. We will forever be indebted to them. Yes, the most difficult part is letting go.

For years we've traveled from coast to coast with more than a zoo in our bags. All kinds of animals rescued by my wife. Dogs, cats, turtles even  birds. Zara, too, came to us battered and bruised. It was a miracle she survived. But this time was different. She was getting older and the family was moving in different directions. We drew up farcical plans of relocating multiple times so that Zara could stay. Money apart the Vet vetoed the plan. Even if it worked out, such convoluted travel and prolonged quarantines was not something Zara could endure.

Letting go is the most difficult part.

Day 5/6 : Bangalore 

 We stayed at a friend's place. Yes we visited the standard watering holes. The routine breakfast at Koshy's, a teenager driven - K Pop fuelled - korean dinner at The Himalayan. A lunch at some mediterranean joint. Amazing foodie experiences.

  But there is a void. Every 5 min we would check on WhatsApp. How is Zara faring? Zara's new mother - the epitome of patience, feeds us with unlimited news updates, video clips and photos. We stay in Bangalore for two days. To let Zara settle down and then say a final goodbye. But we figure that would be too cruel to her, to back, and then leave her.

Day 7 : Bangalore - Nellore (380Km - 08h 20m)

The Bald & The Beautiful

A break, or should I say heartbreak, at Bangalore and we are off to Vizag. Strange.  For the first time this family road journey does not include the search for a pet friendly lodging. Zara is in a home where people love her. We set off in the general direction of home. No plans, except that we need to get there eventually. Home that too, will, soon be a part of the the shifting sands of our memories. Newer shores beckon.

At the Shell Petrol Pump, 50 Km from Kolar, on NH 75, sumptuous Breakfast at Maiyas (strongly recommend the the Idly, vada and Masala Dosa and Ghee roast Dosa and the Khara bhaat - Oh well everything is good) . The stop incidentally also houses a  Starbucks and an McD. Across the road is the Cafe Coffee Day  that we have stopped at, every time, on our visits to the school. Swirling sands of time. We discover the place also houses Rabbits, Love birds, geese, myriad shops and a smoking room. The mind wanders.

We follow Google maps and it too meanders. Short cuts or the real deal? Scenic villages flash by. A Slice of rural life. Small towns. Country roads. Denver plays on the stereo. Another village goes past. Makes me pause and think that people spend their entire life in one village. Maybe venturing out till the next village. It is me who is moving. That village boy was there yesterday and that man will be there tomorrow too. It that a blessed existence?

Meanwhile the road is crisscrossing and snaking across the swanky new 6 laner morphing out of the rubble that once were untouched mountains, pristine forests, mango groves and lush fields. Another offering to the goddess of progress. A sign of a country, an economy hungry, roaring to unshackle the past. Roads like airport runways. As detached as the concrete and asphalt used to build them. And bowing down to the newness I slip my car into cruise control.

A temple in the Srikalahasti complex

We stop at Srikalahasti. Lost lores of the past. I have written about this temple in my a previous Blog, so I'll not dwell too much on it. One wonders at the architectural prowess of the ancients. The stories that too have been lost in time to transform into rituals embalmed in faith, not to be questioned.

We decided to move onto the highway to home, as if trying to leave bangalore as far behind as possible. We reached Nellore and lucked out in our choice of the Hotel. On the bright side, for the superstitious, that was scratch one. Salt over the shoulder. The hotel sucked, big time. But we were tired. On the road, it really hits you only when you finally stop. Then you just crash. Dinner was instant noodles and Home made Sandwiches, ex-Bangalore.

A video of Zara in her new house. Playing, socialising with the other four legged members of her family. Happy. Sad. Move on. She does this boss-woman thing. The puppy succumbs. Later we hear she has taken charge of the boxer boys. The indie too will succumb. Zara is old, getting older, 10 years, and still a charmer. A little loveable bully.

Day 8 : Nellore - Vijayawada (274 Km - 4h 15m)

Nellore fuelled a desire to move on . Yet tired bones had a late start. The girls refused breakfast at the Hotel. So we hit the road. A pit stop for fuel and a late breakfast.  Breakfast at a Hotel called Sitara. We were hungry and the Dosa tasted good. Normally I like change but one night at the Oyo and I was game for anything semi-decent even if it was an overdose of Dosa.

That benevolence didn't last too long and by the time we reached Vijayawada we were craving for change. So we googled, Zomato(ed) and brainstormed (means I got shouted down) and went for lunch at an arabic joint. "Barkaas Arabic Restaurant". Juicy Mutton Mandi. Which basically means mutton biryani served in a single large plate and every one gets to put their hands in the trough (and me a spoon).  More brainstorming (I was silent by now) and dessert at "Roll Over". (fancy sounding stuff - basically ice cream and chocolate sauce)

Have you ever wondered what to do when you're in a middle of a town and need a clean Public toilet? Simple, visit  a Mall. They are easier to find, air conditioned and google gives directions. Cheap at 40 bucks for parking.

Anandasena

Undavalli

The tossup was whether to press on to Rajahmundry or visit places of interest in Vijayawada.  I am proud to say, I took the call (I was driving at the others too tired to object- hungover from Nellore). So we went to the Undavalli Caves, about 10km from the town. Undavalli Caves  are a monolithic structure carved out of a single sandstone hill. And date back to 4-5 cent A.D. Fascinating carvings by the Vishwakarma Sthapathis, in three stories, exhibiting Hindu, Buddhist and Jain architecture. The centerpiece is a a huge Statue of Lord Vishnu as Ananadasena lying on the snake Sheshnag.   Graffiti exhibiting undying love of unlimited jerks and monkeys also infest the place, and while monkeys forage humans litter at will.

We decided to camp in Vijayawada and meandered looking for a suitable nesting place.
A tired, Oyo scarred, family gleefully accepted the comforts and food of Hotel City Central.

Day 9 : Vijayawada - Vizag (362 Km - 7h 30m)

Even the Gods Travel

The trip to Vizag was uneventful. Busy roads traffic, scenic drive, sums it up. Of course the Police check posts. Andhra was in full election mood. We saw no such checks in Karnataka. To top it all, at Jagdampeta we ran into a  Political rally of sorts. It consisted of numerous  people milling around like headless chicken. Autos overflowing with Tees and flags of a particular bright fluorescent hue. Flags loud crackers, rockets and Flower petals (of the same hue) littered. Moving in both directions, on both sides of the road - bikes autos, humans and cattle. Live-stock Huh?

Dosa

Reach home. Dosa's babysitter opens the door. An eerie silence. For the first time we are not  greeted by the joyful barking of gods own creature. Dosa sulks and skulks and then meows, as if to say where is Zara? Little does she know that she will be gone soon. That this home will also swirl away. Beautiful memories that will haunt us for ever. This move will be different. Very different. Meanwhile Dosa cuddles in my lap, climbs over my shoulder. Purring. Welcome home papa. Is this love or is this love.

For the Number Crunchers

Vizag-Bangalore
NH 16                     715
Cutting across         213
NH 75                 104
Total Journey       1032

Bangalore-Vizag
NH 75                 136
Cutting across         181
NH 16                706.6
Total Journey      1023.6


🏡  Pet Friendly Accommodation : 🐕🐈 Those travelling with Pets please check if the Hotel/Homestay is Pet friendly. We used
👉 Airbnb. Select "Filters". Scroll to "House Rules" select "Pets Allowed"
👉 Google Search "Pet Friendly Hotels at XXXX". Scroll down to Googles own listings of "Hotels". Click and Googles travel page pops up. Select "Filters". In "Amenities" select "Pet Friendly"
✋ Please call/text the Hotel and confirm the "Pet Friendly" Tag is correct. We found a few places did not accept pets, despite being tagged.

🍴  Abundant places to eat enroute. South Indian fare is readily available. Drive into the cities for alternative cuisines.

📱  Good Cell phone coverage along all sections(Both BSNL and Airtel). Airtel 4G coverage was available in most parts. I suggest you download offline maps before hand uninterrupted navigation.

🚘 Trust Google Maps. But do a route review beforehand on your desktop, remember the visible real estate is limited on your cell phone

<< CLICK JUMP BREAK BELOW FOR MORE - HOTELS, TOLL DATA, DISTANCES, AV SPEEDS ETC>>

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

MY WIFE AND OTHER ANIMALS - Part II

Part II - Coming of Age and  a Receding Hairline

........... continued from :
My Wife and Other Animals - (with due apologies to Gerald Durrel & the animals) - Part I

(photography courtesy Arunima Nair)

Gods own country gave us a wet farewell as my Daughter, my dog-Curry, my Wife and I set off towards amchi Mumbai. Our last trip down the same route, to Kochi, had been a tearing rush from point to point in the cauldron of fire, that is the Indian Summer. Our mode of transportation had been an ancient tank like car, the ever dependable Premier Padmini. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Mumbai and road trip later let's talk about Kochi.

The Sea from Vypin

 The moving on of bluebells, our cat, left a void in our lives, but the most traumatised was Curry. After the Calicut pitstop, I moved on ahead to Kochi to arrange for suitable dwellings for the depleted menagerie. We moved to a humble abode at Mundamveli. Humble because our standard of living shifted downwards. Literally Floor-bound. No, I didn't lose my job, its just that we had practically no furniture except, mercifully, beds (and a few Chairs that were wedding gifts). So boxes became tables and out-of-the box furniture arrangements. Ikea - match that. Mundamveli, like all of Fort Kochi area (Cochin as it is also known - Ernakulam mind you is across the channel, we'll get there soon) is as beautiful as rest of Gods own country.
{Explore at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mundamveli }.

The Quintessential Fort Kochi
Chinese Fishing Netts 

  My indomitable wife and spunky daughter adapted with ease. Me - I was at sea, literally. Curry was distraught. I think it is about this time that he started showing an aggressive streak. A mixed bag, as he adored the three of us but heaven help others.  Beautiful and mystical mundamveli may be, but it has long lonely stretches. Here is where the tenacious curry came to the fore. The ever protective mother, my wife, swears to this day that 'her' Curry protected her against the evil designs of random hordes of drunk locals that abounded the area. Okay now let me clarify here, that logically, any statistical sample would not support the "number" of drunks and "number" of days theory. However, since I was mostly away, and for the sake of Marital Harmony,

Curry - The Protector

I will not dispute the  Brandy induced haze/mob/zombie army theory. And I will put it on record, (for the truth and nothing but the truth should prevail) that during my trips away, I was much at peace with Curry protecting my family.

Fort Kochi - Old World Charm

 A canine friend of curry here, was a Dalmatian called "Stupid". Stupid was a sweetheart, with a weak heart, or rather, a weak bladder. I am given to understand that the family has always had dalmatians and for some reason always called them "Stupid". So I don't know if this was Stupid the Second or Stupid the Third. Lets just stay with Stupid. Stupid would wet himself, and the surroundings, copiously, the moment anyone in his radius got angry and raised the decibel. Some found this funny and the name endearing, but well, I didn't. Firstly I'm not into Golden showers, near-miss, or of the canine or any other variety, secondly - Stupid! how can such a loveable gods creature be named that. Really!

Jew Town - Kochi

Other than a bike accident that KO'd me and our "Tank" the aforementioned adorable car slowly deteriorating in the sea breeze, the mundamveli phase passed off without any noticeable incident. Oh! Yeah the "Don hit Cully - pleeeeese don hit Cully, nooo"  incident also a happened. For that you have to read my previous post. { read here : My Wife and other Animals - Part I} 

 In a while we moved from the languid backwaters of Fort Kochi to the hot and happening Tarangini apartments at Ernakulam. This,  has been one of our favourite houses. It ticked all the boxes. It was obviously made by a guy with a tremendous sense of humor, had the best view in town and was centrally located (the icing on the cake being that it was fully furnished). Before I come to our 'Rise' in standard of living and humour I'll speak about the   LOCATION LOCATION LOCATION. (for a very long time I seriously believed that, that was a Quote from the Movie Godfather - but anyway). { Tarangini : Location Map - today }

Bolgati Palace
View from our Balcony - Tarangini Apartments

 Tarangini Apartments are located at the mouth of the channel leading to the Kochi Harbour. Officially Off High court on the Marine Drive. It is located in a prime location in Ernakulam off Broadway and GCDA Shopping complex, next to the then hotspots of the city. Today the city has exploded with swanky new malls and new watering holes, that are symbols of India's growth. The Valarpadam Container Terminus, has ensured a road/bridge network to Bolgati Island and Vypin beyond that . At that time Tarangini Apartments were like the last bastion overlooking the beautiful channel, Bolgati Palace and harbour mouth, proverbially at the roads end. Indeed Tarangini was 'THE' place to be.

The trusted Kochi channel Ferry

Our 'Standard of living' rose considerably as our house was located on on the penultimate, viz the 10th Floor. The enclosed balcony held a panoramic view right upto vast expanse of the Arabian Sea. Soon we shifted our dining table and vast array of plants, that my wife has always had the propensity to collect, seawards, and the balcony became our living space. Trangini brought forth my wife's attempts to colonise our zoo. Bluebells still fresh in our minds and Curry becoming even more possessive, we set up a fish maternity ward. Too small for me to steal and cook. But I swear they were breeding faster than rabbits. Maybe, just maybe, they were being replenished at a fast pace. I still wonder. The place had added benefits. Party Zone, a fantastic set of neighbours and friends at close call and our daughters play school located at the ground floor. This was the place where she went school for the first time and began the process of growing wings that will one day take her on her own journey. I remember the day when she went to kindergarten by bus. My wife tearfully holding onto a stoic and beetroot red, me. The official married-man story is that "we" held onto each other. But anyway thats life.

Poetic - Gibran in our 'Living Space'

 Humour or weird? The apartments were designed with two towers at both ends like a folded hands, Indian Namaste, connected with a long stretch of a lower 4 story (or was it 5? - I forget) complex. The weirdness extended to within! Each floor had a differently designed floor plan and size. The top floor in the towering Namaste having the worst deal.  A kind of two storied house, with a staircase within and a seven-dwarfs like attic sized bedroom, with skylight kind of windows. Yeah and the - more often than not - phenomenon of the lifts breaking down was another bonus. But we loved the house, curry learnt how to navigate lifts and we learnt how to climb 10 flights of stairs without having to break into a sweat (ideal pit stops with friends at various floors and coaxing cajoling the lift mechanic and inducing him with the local favourite - 'braaandie') .

Languid Backwaters

One of our buildings fitness enthusiasts learnt the tenacity of curry the hard way. One day (maybe that was his first and last day at this experiment) he decided that climbing the stairway to heaven and health lay through the 10th floor landing. Curry my wife and I had just returned post a leisurely stroll (a venture timed with the life cycle of the elevators). By the time our adventurer reached our doorstep he was almost wiping the floor with his knees. "Be forewarned", I said,"the dog bites" and turned to unlock our door. However, our exhausted, sweaty, floor wipe, threw caution to the winds, and, as we approached our house door, he stretched his hands out for some support(crazy huh!?) and caught a handful of Curry. I swear, I've never heard a man YELP so loud. Curry defty nipped the offender in his luscious bum. I guess he sprinted down faster than he had ascended. News spread fast. My family was safe again.

Ferry Ride in the new car

The sea weather caught up with our beloved Tank - Premier Padmini - car. One day in the middle of the jam packed "Jo's" Junction we heard a loud explosion that was followed by a louder rattling and screeching sound accompanied with minor coughs and spurts. Quite surprisingly no matter how fast we drove the sounds followed us and grew persistently louder. Everybody including us, tried to locate the source of this commotion, till we all realised, that, it was us. A part of the exhaust manifold and pipe had collapsed and given way. The car was being held together by paint, rust and sheer will power. The purchase of a new Air conditioned car was thrust upon us. The buying decision rested solely on the fact that it was tall enough to house Curry and big enough to hold luggage for a road trip. Thus we set up for another round of adventures in and around Kerala in our brand new Wagon-R. We gave the food and geography of gods own country our abundant attention and were getting fat and content. Pause - I was getting fat, "we" were content. As the hairline receded the time came for us to pack our bags and move again.

Off to Mumbai, the beaches of Marve, Malad. A stop-over at Karwar. Gabbar the gigantic Boxer, the warm hearted hosts Ami and Teddy.  But that my friends is the next story. So long..........

I leave you with photo essay that can help one catch but a glimpse of Gods own country

(photography courtesy Arunima Nair)

A must in Kerala - Houseboat holiday

Backwaters

My receding hairline 

A family game, invented by me, that kept kids engaged for long hours - Plonking
(endlessly splashing water with a long stick)

Curio shop at Jew Town - genuine and manufactured antiques

(photography courtesy Arunima Nair)