Glimpses: An Amateur’s travelogue

There was a time during our final year study leave, when I thought all hope was lost., a time when I had no incentive to live.
It was then that one of my friends came up with a plan. A plan that gave me something to look forward to. My light at the end of the tunnel.
13 people, 21 days, India.


I know it is difficult to compile the experience of a lifetime into just a few sheets of paper. And hence, I donot attempt that.
This here, as the name suggests, is an honest attempt of an amateur at preserving atleast some glimpses of those 21 days of travel, 21 days of knowing India, 21 days of being free.
A backup,  just in case my memory fail.

The incidences mentioned here are not in chronological order, not in alphabetical order, or not in order of preference. These are completely random, just 'coz that is the way i like it. I do hope you will pardon me.

Chapter 1

Shit happens

I was always told it was pretty difficult to hit a moving target. This fact was proved to me beyond any reasonable doubt through an absolutely awesome simulation provided by the Indian Railways. It goes by the name “Sulabh Shouchaalaya”

Steady, Aim,....Shoot..!

(Though those illiterate laymen who are oblivious as to the true function of this ingenious device might call it a toilet.)

When the train is moving, both the shooter, and the target starts swaying. Then, it takes nothing short of an expert marksman  to find his target.
And when he does, as an appreciation to his achievement, the Railways provide him with the ultimate pleasure of witnessing the pieces of his faeces fly off into the railway track below.
What more could one ask for..!

I don’t see why the Government haven’t yet acknowledged the mastermind who developed this supremely hygienic way of shit disposal. A Padma award, perhaps.

Hope Suresh Gopi doesnt see this..!

This experience with the simulation, coupled with the fact thatIndian government also manufactures aeroplanes, makes me scared shitless to walk around without an umbrella.

Chapter 2

The Royal Courtyards

One question had haunted me for long. What do men with lots of money, do in their free time..?

I didn’t know the answer. I couldn’t have guessed either, for I had enough of neither money, nor free time, not to mention excess.
But, now I know. The cities of Agra and Jaipur answered that question for me.
Its that such men, build..!

Yes. They build. Some build fancy palaces for their mistresses, and some build forts around their cities for protection. (Individual preferences, you see.)
But without any exception, they all built, these Kings of ours. And judging by the multitude of monuments scattered all over these cities, I presume they had a hell lot of resources at their disposal, both money and free time.

They had built castles,under ground tunnels, brilliant irrigation systems, strategic military outposts and what not.

A beautiful fairy tale

Its just some fate’s foul play that, of the lot, what people still remember is just a fairy tale, an eternal love story.
One that glorifies a burial place, a most beautiful one at that, I must say,  but still just a burial place afterall, while they easily, brutally, and without any regret whatsoever, forget the brilliant military strategist Raja Man Singh who built the nearly impregnable Amber Fort of Jaipur.






The same could be said of the most brilliant and scientific mind of the time Raja Jai Singh, who built Jantar Mantar, a state of the art astronomical observatory.

Mindblowingly precise..!

Unfair, to say the least.


Anyway, with my doubts cleared, that makes  it one thing less for me to worry about. Now I know what shall I do when I get riches beyond what I can handle.
Now, people, that’s whats  called being prepared.

Chapter 3

Christmas on rails.

We just wanted the last train from Agra, none of these luxuries that awaited us. Fully air conditioned coach, Pushback seats, sliding doors, ample leg spaces, .. It was one of those ‘more-than-what-we-wished-for’ moments.
We had just found our seats when men dressed in black stormed our coach., much like an NSG commando attack or something. The place being Delhi and all, one could never tell.
The red alert situation easened when these commandoes in black started distributing dinner trays among us.

 Jason: Yeh kyaa hei..?
Man in Black: Aapka dinner, Saab.
Jason: Do we have to pay for this..? Free nahi tho hum nahi chaahiye.

That was the longest sentence till now, that Jason had managed to verbalize in hindi. I thought of giving him an applause, but considering the situation we are in, thought better of it, and maintained my composure.
MIB: (Taken aback) Is this your first time on the shataabdi express..? yes, it is free.

On hearing that, one too many of our eyes were near tears with joy.
They came again asking if we were happy with the food, and if we needed anything more.
I could feel a wet trail rolling down my cheek on  hearing that question.
And I knew the feeling was common, when I heard afsal sighing  ”not even my family takes such good care of me.”

Jason: No. We don’t need anything else, Bhaiyya.

That Bhaiyya adjective clearly had a pinch of affection added in it. Jason’s face was so lit up, as if he had found some long lost family member.

Just when we thought everything was over, he came again. This time, with a box full of ice creams.
Jason was like "Is this Christmas or what..?!!"

When all seemed said and done,our bhaiyya in black came again. This time, he had a tray with some currency notes in it. He came over, gave us a million watt smile and said.:
MIB: Bhaiyya, tip please.

The reaction was sudden and unprecedented.. Manu fell asleep, Afsal started talking on the phone, and Jason stared blankly out of the window.
It was then that Irfan sat straight,looked him square in the eye and said
“Nahi chaahiye, bhaiyya..!”

Chapter 4

The three legged goat

Ever since I left Delhi, every time I slept, I was having this weird dream. One with a three legged goat. Sometimes, he is all that I see, and sometimes, he just does a cameo in totally unrelated dreams.
Anyway, he paid me a visit every time I took a nap, though I couldn’t decipher what it meant. But now, as I look back, I realize what it really was about.
There were 3 things in Delhi that took me by surprise.

a) The metro service
My aunt had duly warned me the day I set my foot in delhi. She said “you are gonna fall in love with the metro, boy.” , and fall I did. Efficient, neat, comfortable, fast, and cheap. What more does one need..?



b) Chandni Chowk
To embrace the experience in its totality, one has to travel in the above said metro service to Chawri Bazaar. You disembark from the train, to a metro station that is placed 21 feet below the ground. Then you take multiple escalators to reach the streets. The moment you get out of the metro station, you will find yourselves lost in the past. The late 70s or 80s perhaps. You’ll find the buildings totally dull in colour, the streets writhing with rikshaws, and people smoking hukkas on pavements. The Old Delhi..! The Delhi that Shahjahan himself built.

With the stark contrast between the totally high tech machinery that rules the space directly beneath the ground your very foot rests upon, and the totally ancient structures that stand tall above it, Chandni Chowk makes one wonder whether one had stepped into a time machine instead of a metro coach.

c) Tandoori Raan
It’s a dish served at the famous Karim’s restaurant in Old Delhi. Its basically a full tandooried leg of a goat. Yummy , I must say, and massive. We, me and Abel, had to try hard to finish one, but to no avail.

May his leg rest in peace...

And I strongly believe it’s the owner of that leg who visits me daily in my dreams.
May his leg rest in peace...

Chapter 5
The representatives

It is neither the brilliant architecture, nor the massiveness of it that makes The Parliament impressive. It’s the amount of security that one has to go through before getting in. We all had our passes to sit in the visitors’ gallery for an hour, thanx to my aunt Reena. Even then, we were frisked a number of times amounting to not less than 8 or 9. When we were through all of it, we all felt refreshed, as if we had an all body massage, totally free of cost.
Every eenie meenie things were taken from us. No metal stuff, no wallets, no coins, no pen or pencils,not even a bit of paper was allowed inside. And no, im not exaggerating.
Once inside, we saw Kapil Sibal, Sushama Swaraj, and L K Adwani sitting in the front row, engaged in a heated debate. And much similar to our class rooms, the back benchers were dozing off.
I could feel my rage rising witnessing this display of irresponsibility from our representatives that we have elected. But then the irony struck me. Dozing off in the last benches is what we all ever do. How better could our representatives represent us…?

Chapter 6

Whats your number..?

A city where places doesn’t have names, but numbers instead.

Chandigarh:The planned city

No, this aint the plot of some dystopian movie which portrays a society in which individuality doesn’t exist, where every one and everything are merely numbers. No its not that. But its really close.
This is about Chandigarh- the first planned city of India.
One just needs to look at its map to see what they have created there. A city full of rectangular sectors, numbered from 1 to 57. A sector for reastaurants (sector 35) , one for colleges (sector 17) and so on and so forth.
Totally planned with x% of forest, and y% of water bodies.
And as a man who prefers anarchy over discipline, I personally hated Chandigarh.
Witnessing a man hire a prostitute at 7 in the morning, just added to the yuck factor.

Chapter 7

The Negotiator

In Goa, the usual practice is to pay in advance for the bay sports that you wish to do, at the counters on the shore. Then the boat drivers take you to the sea, helps you have fun, and offers you the option of some added entertainment, at some expense of course. The great Indian backdoor trick, you see.

Nananana.. Banana...

The event was Banana ride. 4 men are taken to the sea in a banana shaped boat, and are thrown off board. Then the crew helps you back on the boat, gives you a ride, and brings you back.

Among this 4 was one Mr.Afsal.B.Rahiman. He had made his name as the best buyer among us. The bargaining king. From the infamous Paalika Bazaar and Karol bagh in delhi, through to Jaipur, there was hardly any market that could’ve missed this boy wonder’s  display of skillful tactics. He would buy three for what I would pay for just one. It was simply a beauty to see him do business.

Okay, back to the story.

The Boy Wonder

Once they were done with the trick, the boat driver asked them
“Do you want to do it again, Boss..? just 100rs extra per person.”

It hardly took 10 seconds for the boy wonder to retort
“we will do it if it is 100 for all 4 of us.”, and gave him that  ‘I-made-you-an-offer-you-cant-refuse’ look.

The driver came near him, and had  a nasty smile, when he asked
“what did you say, Boss..?”
“100 for 4” said the negotiator, unflinching.

The next thing his fellow sailors know, Afsal was off the boat, in the sea.
Floating, thanks to the life jacket, but in the sea nonetheless.
The driver sailed the boat to the shore with the remaining 3, not once looking back.
From the shore, I could see the boat approaching with 3 of our friends, and I could see a tiny figure floating at a distance, like a tiny speck in the vast ocean.
10 minutes, and much persuasion later, 3-4 people from the boat went swimming and fetched him.
But by then, our boy blunder had had a saline stomach wash, stared death square in  its eye, and had learnt his lesson that was due.
“When you don’t have a foothold, don’t bargain.”

Chapter 8

Beyond words

I haven’t mentioned Manali, and Amritsar as it would be an insult to even try to explain the beauty of these places in words.
While Manali had this wallpaper quality images all around, the scenic beauty beyond words,  Amritsar impressed us by the manners of the people there. One cant find a more humble and well behaved lot.
A visit to the Jallian walla bagh made me realize the freedom we enjoy, comes at a price.
And , what we witnessed at the Wagha border, gives me goose bumps every time I think of it.

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I might go for another trip some time in the future, and i might not. Who knows..
But there is just one thing I can be absolutely sure of. There aint gonna be a trip like this again..!


Photo courtesy : Abel Thamby, Ajay Abraham, Jason Zachariah