Category: Travel

  • 11 memories of 2011

    1. Watching Sachin at Bangalore scoring 100 in a World Cup match in Feb. If I would I have jumped from the stands at that very moment, it would have been a great death. And also at the end of it all we won the cup, the cup which mattered the most on April 2nd.
    2. Sitting comfortably on a slowly moving houseboat in Kerala backwaters. Amazing trip to Kerala followed by loss of my costliest cellphone ever and a wonderful wedding of a wonderful friend.
    3. Silence of the noise party at Palolim Goa, and the story of why it never happened. The most amazing of trips with my bestest friends…
    4. Losing a dear friend. Yesterday night as we drove past Lonavla, Naresh was the only person I could think of. Sachin’s birthday, the online world, DAIICT bakar and watching Katrina Kaif songs will never be the same again.
    5. Sitting on Sam dunes and watching the sun set. Nothing else, just so so peaceful and nice.
    6. Gaining weight, gaining a lot of weight, losing a LOT of weight and then putting some back again. The year when I was struck by Jaundice which led to a month of salary lesser than my maid and no holidays leading to no Ladakh for another year.
    7. Dancing at weddings. Too many weddings this year, although I did plan it well enough with some tours. I guess I danced pretty madly at Katti and Dhari’s wedding, Ankit and Apeksha was relatively sober.
    8. Meeting pretty girls randomly. A Brazilian Chef, few Danish linguistic students, an international affairs student interested in mahabharat, a  playwright, a lawyer with an amazing knowledge of tennis and cricket, a journalist who could have better been a food critic, a marketeer with love for wines and cheese and a few others. But as expected this just resulted in more stories getting added to my database. Swear.
    9. Consolidating the REAL friend-list. Hardly any additions to the new friends category, people who were close kept coming closer. Few who were distanced kept going far away. Very few recalls from the past and accidental meetups with old buddies.
    10. Idlis, dosas, upmas and vada. South Indian was the cuisine of the year, if my countless visits to Matunga’s Madras Cafe with Harsh and other friends is anything to go by. The Hyderabad Chutneys Sambhar was one of the best things I had during the year. Also idlis and dosas gave me company during the most food deprived time of my life, Jaundice.
    11. Sutts and the amazing bakar around it. The chai-sutta breaks at office led to really engaging conversations covering all aspects of life with the office gang (I was a pretty active passive smoker this year). Just that the participants kept going down every month.

    Featured image by Harsh Mehta

  • Rail-pedia

    As I was sitting with my friends on the Raipur station yesterday and waiting for our train (7 hours late) to arrive I saw a passenger train coming before our much delayed “super-fast” train. I said to my friends how come this happened and an Uncleji came from nowhere, “Yeh special passenger hai, Navratri hai na, Mata ke darshan ke liye Dongargarh jaa rahi hai, superfast ke upar preference milegi”. As those words came out from that awkward smelling ghutka infested red mouth of his I realized that there tonnes of knowledge in this country, especially when it comes to the topic of India Railways.

    It starts as a simple thing, by buying the Railway timetable (which I am sure half of these Uncleji’s memorize), but then there is other information which comes only with experience. Topics range from simple delays, food and politics and reaches a different level by touching upon deeper issues like personal hygiene, development and the pluralistic nature of our society.

    I have been through a few of these, have you?

    Consider these:

    Uncleji sitting next to you in the train and reading his newspaper, the train has halted and another train passes by, Uncleji who has multiple explanations of the event:

    “Beta time kitna hua hai..Uncleji 2 baje hai…haan to yeh Gitanjali chodd di humse, superfast hai na” or “Beta yeh signal down kia hai, dusre track par 2 baje repair chaalu hota hai na” or “Beta gaiyya kat gayi hogi, yaha crossing par har saal kat jaati hai” or “Yeh Howrah waali gaadi pehle chodd dete hai, ab beta tum hi batao, is desh main rail mantri kaha se aaye hai, bas do rajyo se Bihar ya Bangal, ab waha ki traino ko to faayda milega hi na” or “beta yaha par engine badalta hai na, abhi yard se aaya nahi hoga, to pahle hi rok di” or “beta yaha hamesha ka natak hai, yeh rok dwete hai, lekin chinta mat karo, bahut jaldi cover karegi”

    Or Uncleji’s gyaan on other tracks:

    “Beta aap kaha se ho…Uncleji Maharashtra se hu, waise kayi jagah raha hu…Maharashtra main originally kaha se ho…ji Yavatmal se lekin waha kabhi raha nahi…arre Yavatmal, waha ki gaadi to Nagpur se kat leti hai, choti line hai, to ho kaha se…ji Jabalpur se…oh Jabalpur se Nagpur fir badi dikkat hai beta, choti line hai. lekin Jabalpur main to Railway ka bada zone hai, bahut accha hua…Uncleji aap kaha se hai?…Beta bas kya bole humaari to poori zindagi kat gayi rail main safar karte karte (I can understand)”

    Or on food:

    “Chai chai chai….arre Chaiwaale, ek chai pilaao, woh dip waali to nahi hai na….nahi ji taazi bana ke laaya hu…thik hai ek de do, beta aap loge…nahi uncle…Uncleji chai peete hue, accha kia beta nhai li, 5 rs lete hai aur poora paani daalte hai, Chai to beta Nandurbaar station par Chowdhary ki milti hai, Chai ho to chowdhary ki, aur Chai ka majja to humaare jamaane main kulhad main tha, mitti ka swaad hi kuch alag hota hai” or “Beta yeh Pantry car ka khaana pahle se Quality main kaafi improve ho gaya hai, Chawal bilkul Dubraj use kar raha hai aajkal…Bhaiya nan-veg main kya hai aaj, anda curry milega…haanji milega…thik hai, Pantry main Ramesh hai? Usse bolna Sharma ji ka order hai, Anda Curry special banaye….Beta humara to humesha ka hai train se, Ramesh apne hi gaav se hai, accha ghar jaisa bana deta hai”

    Or on politics:

    “Bhaisahab kaam to Lalu ne kiya tha Railway main, kayapalat kar di, kya shaandaar system banaya hai, Bihar ko faayda karaya lekin aam aadmi ka khayal rakha hai usne” or “Yaha gaadi delay kara denge, yeh mantriji ki constituency hai na, unka aadesh hai ki har station par rukwaaya jaaye”

    Or on sanitation issues:

    “Beta yeh jo bhi bolo, chai ke bagair pressure banta hi nahi” or “Beta yeh railway ka toilet dekh kar aati nahi, pressure hi nahi banta” or “yeh Bilaspur par cleaning waale aate hai, hum to uske bhi toilet ke liye jaayenge”

    Or on life:
    “Beta aap to accha padh liye, humaari bhi iccha thi khub padhne ki, chalo hum nahi aap sahi” or the final classic one…

    “Beta yeh jeevan kya hai, railgaadi hi to hai!!!”

    Can’t agree more.

    ————————————————————————————————————————————————–

    Just a a slight deviation from the main topic but whenever I think of this I laugh a lot, one of my friend told me that the pay-and-use toilet at Khandwa station was called Bobby Tatti House, in honour of the great Raj Kapoor classic… 🙂

    ————————————————————————————————————————————————–

  • Positive thoughts?

    Life has been a bit off colour lately, as if what happened last month wasn’t enough here I am at home, for the past two weeks, eating boiled food and fruits and sleeping like kumbhakaran throughout the day. In the past few days I have developed love for idlis and extreme hatred for daliya, spinach, hospital and medicines. In a lazy weak format, deprived of all the chutputa food and chutputy bakar in the world here is a man just lying in his room, and bored. And uff, this needle on my hand bugs me.

    Given I sleep so much I am having my fair share of dreams, and they have been mostly horrifying. From playing with my worst fears and flirting with my weirdest nightmares they have ensured that I don’t sleep that soundly. To fight with them, I go on kickstart my own train of thoughts, those lovely memories which have kept me happy over the past few years now.

    So everytime I wake up from a bad thought here is what I do, I close my eyes, take a deep breath and think of:

    Omlettes: Of the lovely ones I had in Goa, or on that Trihun trek (with a chai sipper, choc eater, and great driver), ones which are so videshi with minimal spices and loads of cheese, ones with all the masala tones of green chilies and kanda. World’s best anda bhurji at Andheri station, or that decent one which I used to have at SP mess to help me go through with the food, or the egg biryani be at Raj Palace, or be it at Paradise Hyderabad. And those lovely Gadar Andes I cooked along with Abhishek at Gurgaon with loads of Jeera.

    Indori Food: Well I have talked about it so many times, but aloo ki kachori at lal balti/GSITS, poha/jalebi anywhere, sawariya ki sabudana khichdi, namkeen (double laung), Sarafa ki galiyo main Jaleba, shikanji, vijay chaat house ki batla patties, joshiji ke dahi vade, bhutte ka kis, garadu, gurukripa main bhojan, aur ghar pe mangode aur daal baafle. Did I mention mawa baati, shikanji and ASPI? Indore mahaan hai.

    Lazy trips: With mostly nothing to do apart from changing CDs in car, pepping up the greatest driver in the world by offering him cans of Red Bull, eating dhaba food, enjoying the scenery, talking to other car-mates. Jannat.

    Dosa: I have never tasted Dosas better than Bangalore or Korba’s Indian Coffee House. Both of them stand out. Bangalore’s Vidhyarthi Bhavan being my favorite, enjoyed with Atishay Bhaiyas khilkhilati hasi and Ananda’s coffee gulping on the day when India beat Aussies at Perth post the monkeygate match. Or the World beater Benne Dosa or Paddu served at that small shop on the way to Basvangudi, or staple on treats (just 11 rs back then) of which I had 11 in Davangare once.

    Aloo Parathas: I fell in love with them in Shimla, they were like Sharmila Tagore of Aradhna, young, hot, shiny with all the makkhan on them, I was like Kaka eager to fall in Love and make the haseen galti of munching those daily morning before I started my day. For one and half month everything in Shimla bored us, Aloo Parathas were our only hope. I tasted the ones at Moolchand once, and for me the taste is still there on some part of my tounge.

    Naturals: More than ice cream Natural’s was a remedial place, I used to take hopeless friends there, enjoy the first cup listening to them (grunts which I mostly ignored) and the second talking crap to them (which I enjoyed). There was seldom the third one (with just one exception with whom chances of fourth came up) but I loved the place. 28 Rs. bought them a malai or a tender coconut and more than that peace of their mind. Lokhandwaala one with its shoftu couch was better.

    These were a few positive thoughts, I need more, help me. Maybe I think its just the overdose of spinach and lauki speaking here…

    ————————————————————————————————————————————————–

    If down, how do you get back to thinking positively?

    ————————————————————————————————————————————————–

  • Fear. Indifference. Awkwardness. Fear

    Past 2-3 months…

    It was that kind of a mad night, winter just about knocking on the door, truck flipping on road, tyre busting and finally a bang bang happening. Although I was happy that nothing happened, but something which still happened was enough to create a churn in my mind. And my head went bang bang for a few days. As always I crumbled under this one too, simply because history was behind me. I used to love history lessons back in school though, but this history I am referring to, is bad. I am afraid of history now.

    I don’t think she was stunningly beautiful or anything special, but as I observed her sitting there, I just felt that something. I am a very curious guy. I tried talking to her, but it didn’t work out. I love talking to people though, and I had a chat with her entire family, but not her. Then someone told me she is old, very old, well I left the case then. I hope she is happy doing whatever she is doing because I feel she is doing something really nice. I am very happy that I never talked to her.

    I hate encounters, I love them too, I love to meet people, new ones are good, old ones are better and then there are always the awkward ones. I have become an awkward person in the past few years. I used to be so comfortable for everyone before that. Maybe I was an awkward person even before that. I think I am ok. I think people around me are awkward. I don’t know when it ends. I know I don’t want that stupid awkwardness around me, it should be nice and simple. I love all my friends, and I think I have become really nice and simple around them. I am comfortable, awkwardly.

    I can go to Goa again right now. It’s the best place to be, and just be. I love the way they make omelets. Goa should be famous for omelets than Sea Food. I think most of the foreigners who visit Goa are beggars. I will buy Jenny an omelet if I meet her again. I should tell you that she wasn’t a beggar, she is decently educated. Few of my friends think they are not getting a girl on their life because I am around and I discourage them. I think they were talking about all the time, not just the time in Goa. I think they are all scared to have a girl in their life. I am scared too.

  • The SemiPali Adventure

    Mondays were always like this, f**king boring, although I am not allowed use the F word as I am still in class VIth, it brings out the haaawww from you. So we have a Maths test tomorrow, I don’t know what happened to my school and they kept this routine of a weekly test, Kendriya Vidyalaya is so good they have a unit test, need to study once a month, we need to do it four times a month, although thanks to Gregorian, we sometimes have it five times a month.

    Mr Sharma, we secretly call him DK and laugh behind his back, is different from the rest, just this year they started telling us that other than numbers you can also play with a,b,c in Maths, hey but this guy is new, maybe he doesn’t know Maths at all, otherwise confusing English with Maths is a mistake, atleast something which I would never do. He calls this new thing Algebra, sounds like a Arabic Zebra, but my friends say that if you do this you get very good marks later in boards, and anyway everyone says you have to be good in Maths, they are the only test copies my father is interested in seeing, luckily for me I end up scoring good marks in this.

    So I have a Maths test tomorrow, and I can’t get the hang of it, these f**king (a,b,c)’s, so let me roam around a bit. Maybe Kartik would be studying too, let me bug him, he studies a lot anyway all the time. Kartik lives on the last home of my row, in township we have rows of houses, we even have gali rivalry, people from our row cross into other rows mostly to play cricket, pitthul and kabbadi and racetrip as we don’t have enough boys of our age group here, all are people from Tiny Cottage, those red dress wearing, nose wiping, small looking kids.

    I shouted Kartik’s name standing at his house gate, it may not sound civilized but this is the way we do our things, and he comes out in his trademark wide-assed shorts and a baniyan. By the way Kartik quite wide-assed, literally i.e., people had that observation when he rides his cycle, both the cheeks spread out like a vada-pav. Infact most of our brain works during that time only, we think better when we are on our cycles, we talk about girls in different way nowadays too while riding the cycle, things are changing.

    “So, how is the preparation, bore laga raha hai”
    “Yes Pattu, but I still have lots of course pending”
    “Hmm…, lets roam around a bit, get fresh and come back, you and Sunny always talk about that place right, with a small river and a bridge nearby”
    “SemiPali?”
    “Oh haan, yes that one, lets go there ”
    “Now? You must be out of your mind its around 10kms, no point today, we can go tomorrow”
    “Na na, today chal yaar, this algebra anyway doesn’t make any sense”
    “Ok, let me get ready then”. So Kartik puts on his trousers, wears a rough looking checked shirt, I am wearing a trouser too with some T-shirt. Trousers are in nowadays, my cousins from cities talk about something called a jeans but we don’t like that much, trousers make you look older than your age, and also its much better than half pants, we are in sixth now, so we are anyway allowed to wear trousers, it feels great, also with so many hirsute male legs around, it is a welcome move.

    So we pick up Sunny from his home and progress on our cycles to SemiPali, Sunny by the way is another of my classmate, I don’t interact with him much but Kartik so transitive ways I too, he is a good footballer and is creating a buzz on the township cricket scene too nowadays. SemiPali is a small village next to JamniPali, our township is located in village Jamnipali although it can be noway called a village with beautiful gardens, club, great homes, shopping centres and clubs around.

    Sunny talks about Semipali on the way, about how Kartik and he has been to the area before, how they found out that place, how one of his chachaji sat on a grave and had a cigarette.

    “Grave!!!”

    Yes he said, he told the river had a graveyard nearby, which was rumoured to be extremely old, and its closed now that means no more new burials there, but for me it came as surprise, recently they started Zee Horror show on television which I find very scary and anyway I am very afraid of ghosts and spirits and similar stories. The first episode was killer with the head of Archana Puran Singh served on a plate by a butler, although Butler reminds me of the sweet Butler from Ducktales, wonder what his name is though?

    We ride on this kaccha road outside our township, all Chattisgarh roads are kaccha mostly, and you just have to get out of the township to ride on any of them. As we continue on the road, we find a theatre on the way.

    “Hey, have been here saw Jurrasic Park here, what is it playing now”

    Some dirty stuff, people say its known as Porn or something, its not good for kids and newspapers and posters advertise it as above 18 stuff, I don’t know how being 18 qualifies you to see a movie, although the poster here doesn’t have any good hero-heroine also, who will watch it anyway. Also it seems Jurrasic Park is the only under 18 movie ever played in this theatre, because that’s the only one I saw here with Meenal (chronologically my oldest friend, about her sometime later).

    As we start moving ahead the small shops and business owners give way to lush wide paddy fields (quite a common thing in Chattisgarh) and half chopped teak woods in the way. This area is mostly red-soiled, you can conclude that in two ways- the ghadas made here are Red in Color and during Autumns when the leaves dry and shed off, they all get a reddish tinge on them from dust. They look simply amazing, even the Trees turn Red. Certainly not RedWood though, read in Britannica that they are found in USA. Right now though my Hercules MTB is getting a Red Tinge, lucky Kartik and Sunny, they have a Red Bike.

    As we moved ahead all three of us were pretty excited, both of them talked about the beauty of the place, while I was wondering how I could have missed this place. The road was sparsely populated, just a few cycles once in a while and even a tractor once. The slightly tiring long legs on the BiCycle keep moving though, crawling towards the destination.

    On the way you see small children playing, women moving around with Water in Brass Pots and men sitting and chatting, its almost 5:00 PM and everyone is back from fields. One thing about Chattisgarhi Women though, their skin is has this amazing shine, it shines as though tonnes of Coconut Oil has been poured on it, and when they carry the Brass Pots on their heads, the sheen and the contrast makes the whole imagery brilliant. That Dark Shining Skin reflects confidence and their hardworking character, which I find missing in people from township. I was seeing this movie Shaukeen the other day where even Utpal Dutt was appreciative of Chattisgarhi women, but in a not so goody way. Generally he is good but that time he wasn’t, he was a bit dirty.

    “Aha, so here we are”

    “Pahuch gaye” shouted Kartik while getting off from his Bike in a superb fashion which was possible for only Kartik to do. Jumping off and continue running, it was funny but took a lot of practice. He also had many other tricks up his sleeves on a bicycle of which I had tried at least half, and almost all of them had resulted in a fall, and Dettol being pured over me.

    It was beautiful. It was like well, lets see, a bridge, a leftward turn down a dusty lane, a small river, making the nice kal-kal sound. Smell of wet mud, aha, now thats something.

    “And, there is the kabristan” shouted Sunny. How the hell does one see that in between the scenic beauty. Anyway we rolled our cycle down the lane next to the bridge, took it to the river and gave it wash. It was shining, the sun was about to set and there was a beautiful orange light all around us, the cycles were shining too, although the shine was nothing compared to the skin of those beautiful Chattisgarhi women.

    And it was all so nice, we sat there, and it was all so nice, before…

    He was a silhouette, a sort of a shadow, a lean figure, short in height, he just kept walking, he came from the side of the kabristan. I don’t know what the others were thinking, I thought he was a ghost, a spirit, or something on those lines. He limped slightly, and then he came near Sunny’s cycle, a mid-heighted reddish bike, picked it up and kept walking. He didn’t utter a word, we shouted chased him, but we were so scared, we couldn’t do a thing, it was so weird.

    And he went away, and I sat there, scared and stunned, and suddenly I realised that Kartik and Sunny were running behind him and they were gone.How the hell did they have the guts to chase him. I felt slightly ashamed, or maybe weird that I didn’t support them. All I could manage to do, is cry.

    Yes, I cried!

    And I picked up my bicycle and started going back towards the township, the roads were empty and dark, there was hardly any street lighting on the way back. I felt ashamed that maybe I just left my friends on their own, or I felt that I cheated them, or I was just lost.

    Yes, I was lost!

    I was just going back, I found a drunk fellow on the way back, and there were no Chattisgarhi women with that awesome shining skin. I was crying and cycling back, running away from my first slightly super-natural adventure.

    It was an hour and then I saw light, ya, Mohan talkies was here and I had reached the edge of the township and once I entered I cycled back to my home.

    I had reached, somehow!

    I just ran to my room and sat on my greenish teak wood study table. I couldn’t concentrate, nor did I have the courage to goto Kartik’s home and ask about him.I was scared, and I wanted to read.

    I somehow tried to sleep later at night and just saw the same figure before me. I ran to the bathroom and saw him standing there again. It was so so bad.

    Morning finally came.I possibly had my first night out and somehow cycle to the college. I crossed Kartik, we didn’t say anything and rushed away to the test hall. I couldn’t see Sunny around, but later realised he sits in another exam hall. I couldn’t concentrate, nor could Kartik, I just wanted it to end.

    And it ended, and we met, and I asked?

    “How was the test?”

    Kartik told “ It was Ok!”.We met Sunny sometime later, he said “Hi” and moved on.

    What about the kabristan guy? What about the cycle? What about Semipali again? What about Maths test? How did you come back and how?

    The day ended and I just wanted to go back and sleep, I stepped out into the cycle stand and saw Sunny riding his red cycle. I wondered what had happened. Maybe I shouldn’t discuss this, maybe I was too sleepy!

  • The Story of Indian Railway Cutlet

    Have you ever noticed Bhartiya Railway- “Aapki Sewa main” (Indian Railway- In Your Service) written in small circles on the berths in railway coaches. The only noticeable aspect of this service is their catering, captured in the quintessential Railway breakfast, Cutlets!!!

    Those small patties, covered with bread crumbs, deep fried, cut in various shapes (circular in west, heart shaped in east, other shapes which I have seen include a rhombus, small squares etc.) are part of the morning happenings of any train journey. After experiencing (primarily experiencing the sense of smell) the aromatic railway toilets in morning (usually flooded, soiled and you know what all) and a quick brushing of teeth standing alongside variety of people, many a times with finger (as one forgets the brush 9 times out of 10) the smell of these cutlets is the first welcome thing which invigorates all senses, especially “the smell” which ends all smells. The smell of railway cutlets is unique, much unique than that of soil after first rains, or that of Chanel no.5 . Any other smell which comes closer is that of railway window railings, purely metallic and very very unique. Another smell which was equally unique was that of Duckback raincoats, leathery and nice.

    These cutlets are mostly made of potatoes with a few seasonal veggies, mostly peas, carrots etc. Although the best ones always have that bit of beetroot in them, they always have. They are nicely packed, well wrapped in aluminum foils, in fact there is a bit of sogginess which seeps in along with the crispiness due to the foils which creates a unique taste. One is always served two cutlets with bread butter (2 slices only, never ever more than that). I always make a sort of a sandwich out of the first and then slowly munch of the second one to get lost in its taste. One can’t forget the contribution of ketchup here (cheap version, enriched with Pumpkins for thickness). This tomato ketchup is always packed in those small plastic sachets, bright red in color, it always adds to the flavor of cutlets. Although nowadays one tends to get branded ketchup at times.

    Cutlets taste best with the watery coffee (which is much better than the watery tea). Although if one gets tea of the quality of Chaudhry Chai waala (a famous tea vendor, near Nandurbar station, en route Ahmedabad to Nagpur) one shouldn’t miss that.

    Cutlets compete for stomach-space with Omelets in morning, but in my books there in only one winner when it comes to breakfast on Indian railways. Cutlets also get an enhanced version in Rajdhani or Shatabdi where they are accompanied with fried green peas or a some pieces of French fries at times. But the basic taste remains the same.

    I just hope I keep traveling, enjoying my journeys on Indian Railway and keep enjoying the wonderful moments it brings along.

    Long Live the Indian Railway Cutlet, one of the best breakfast in this country…

  • Kids are the Future, they know it !!!

    Date
    13th May’2002

    Train
    Bangalore-Delhi Rajdhani Express
    AC III Tier

    Passengers
    Pattu (that is me, school nickname), Addu and Niddu

    Travel Purpose
    Journey from Bangalore to Nagpur. Me going back home after more than a month. The time which was spent in Delhi, Nagpur, Chennai and Bangalore giving IITJEE, KCET and DA-IICT entrance, coaching and waiting for trains.

    The Incident
    Now something about the incident, we had a family sitting with us in Train, uncle-aunty and two kids, elder son gave KCET like us and the younger one a school kid, maybe about 10-11 years old.

    The Father-Son duo (the younger son) was sitting facing each other with the train moving in the direction where the Father’s back was, Kid says

    “Dad, you are looking at the past, me at the future”

    That time I could just manage to smile at this, today I think I couldn’t have managed more.

    P.S. – Thought of blogging this after I read about Sur’s incident on the same Railway route.

    P.P.S- Although it’s out of context I would like to mention that this was the first time I was traveling by Rajdhani and the food was awesome.

  • Off to Ooty for weekend

    The last time I visited Ooty I was a kid I think so I don’t remember a bit about the place. But going this weekend on a Team Outing with my mates at workplace will be awesome as I visit the best hill station in Southern India and the adopted land on MithunDa.
    Hope it’s loads of fun.

    Technorati Tags: , ,