Author: manuscrypts

  • Lankan Reams – Day 1 – Anuradhapura

    The Negombo beach, which had seemed an undifferentiated black mass at 11 pm – the night before, was actually quite a decent one. Unfortunately, we couldn’t spend a lot of time here, since we had a long journey to what is called the Cultural Triangle. But I still had time to fully and delightfully digest the fact that Muttaappam and Fish Curry was considered part of a legit breakfast in Lanka, at least if we went by the hotel spread, which even otherwise, was quite awesome, with Pittu (Puttu), and string hoppers (Idiappam)

    We started out and saw several kids in uniforms, which was surprising on a Sunday. Turned out it was for Sunday school and apparently, the Lankans call Negombo ‘Little Rome’. We passed a place that sounded just like home – Kochchikade. The skies were absolutely postcard, and they reminded me of the Twitter background. 🙂 There was a lot of construction happening on the roads we passed.

    This seemed to be the second most common kind of elephant here, the first of course, being EGB. After Puttalam, which had a bustling Sunday market, we tested out a unique fruit called wood apple. Knock it on the floor to open it, and we get a sour, tangy, rarely sweet and honestly horrible taste. But many people make a living selling this – apparently the juice is very tasty. Though I encountered it later, the fruit had left a bitter taste in my mouth, and I didn’t dare try the juice.

    Finally after about 3.5 hours, we reached Anuradhapura, and took a full pass for the cultural triangle, costing SL Rs.2825 per head, after the 50% discount for SAARCy countries. On hindsight, it might be better to figure out the individual costs of the places you plan to visit, since most of the biggies (Sigiriya, Tooth Relic Temple, for instance) are not covered. The tickets were bought in the Museum, where a self appointed guide, showed us, among other things, the ‘pee pee’ and ‘poo poo’ systems used by early Buddhist monks. At the end of it all, I felt quite sad for the old woman, jabbering away about a past that few seemed to be interested in.

    Anuradhapura, sacred city and ancient capital, where if you threw the proverbial stone, you’d hit a stupa, and that stone was a freaking relic, mind you! So we saw the Sri Maha Bodhi tree, the oldest angiosperm, which was also the scene of an LTTE massacre about 25 years back. Ruvanveli Mahaseya, white and bright, and very click friendly.

    We then decided to get ourselves us some lunch. The Anuradhapura Resthouse was busy with some VIP, and we finally reached The Grand, which gave us pork, chicken, along with the Lankan version of meals, a vanilla flavoured banana shake, and a distant view of Mihintale, which would be later in the day.

    After lunch, we zipped through Thuparamaya Dagoba, Jetavanaramaya – made of over 90 million bricks, Abhayagiri Dagoba, the Moonstone (where another family watched us closely), and the Twin Ponds. The stupas were slowly causing a stupor and we decided to move on to Mihintale.

    This was only about half an hour away, and is absolutely the place to go to if you’re afraid of heights. In fact, it is a good initiation ceremony for Sigiriya. The climb to Aradana Gala, where the novice invited the gods to come down and listen to the sermon of Mihinda, consists mostly of steps built into the rock face in ancient times, and is at such a height that you can believe the gods are at shouting distance. Spectacular view, which is difficult to capture when you’re praying to the above gods to let you hang on longer!!

    We started off to Habarana, which was our halt for the night. Chaaya Village proved to be the most awesome resort in our vacation. A special thanks to our tour guys who offered to upgrade us to this place when they got a good discount. Even the pics at their own site don’t do them full justice. There’s an excellent story about Habarana itself, all of which you can catch here.

    The other thing you can catch later is Day 3. In case you missed Day 0, its here.

  • Lankan Reams – Day 0 – SriLankan Airlines and Negombo

    ..and now its tradition to have my vacations flagged off by a Partha Jha wordplay. 🙂 He didn’t disappoint this time either, and rewarded my cryptic goodbye with this.

    The road trip to our offsite airport wasn’t really adventurous, despite our driver’s best slow moving efforts. He wished us a happy journey though, that was a nice touch. In spite of the mildly irritating form factor, migration proved to be a simple business.

    The SriLankan Airlines thankfully provided more avenues for cheap fun. If Air Deccan had a poor cousin, this one would be it. They did serve a ‘standard’ meal, and we use the word ‘standard’ loosely here, and I scared D by hinting that the mounds of potato would give us a loosie in the sky, or worse, during the vacation.

    But I’m being mean, sorry, they weren’t really bad, though the craft did need some upholstery maintenance. I felt bad for the staff, and could understand their sad expression, which was mostly thanks to a raucous beer crowd, whose in-flight entertainment consisted of shooting pictures of themselves with free Carlsberg, with many retakes, all freshly canned. It also gave us a free nostalgia trip – buses to and from Kerala. There was this other guy in front of us with a hoodie – he kept looking up, I think he was apprehensive of leaks, couldn’t really blame him.

    We arrived safely, mostly because D doesn’t let me speak during flights. Wait a second, I now realise she mostly doesn’t let me speak. Hmm. Currency change was a breeze, because we had been warned by our tour organiser that the newly symbolic Rupee would be difficult to convert, and so we’d carried $.

    Meanwhile, our guide was waiting for us, and I identified parts of my name from several others. He took us to the parking lot, which had a retro feel to it. For instance, ours was a full fledged Toyota which could seat about a dozen people, and reminded me of the ‘kidnap’ cars Amjad Khan used in 80s Bollywood.

    On the way to Negombo, where we were to stay the night, it was  like a surreal India – Hutch saying ‘Hi’ alongside a Samsung Corby, and an Airtel fighting for attention. That reminded me of the Uniconnect card I got, thanks to booking through Cleartrip. Sorry Cleartrip, we both did what was expected of us, no controversy here. 😉

    The Camelot Beach Hotel at Negombo was neat enough, and though we sensed a fish smell near the reception, the long corridor was free of it. The room was quite good, and once we had cracked the plug point secrets, all was well. Meanwhile, instead of a television, we had a radio with good old fashioned knobs, and we rocked ourselves to sleep listening to the roar of the sea and “I’m gonna live forever“.

    More pics here, and coming soon Part 2 🙂

  • Race Trace

    Anything is possible when you are young. Then you get older and the thing about getting older is that you don’t need everything to be possible anymore, you just need some things to be certain.

    For some reason, this line from Brick Lane (movie) stayed with me. Age might be a number, but we are alive for a finite time frame, and therefore it has its own significance. I think, more than age itself, it is to do with motivation. There does seem to be some relationship between age and motivation levels. Of course that’s quite a generic and simplistic statement, since there are many subjective factors that play important roles.

    At different stages we’ve different short term purposes. What these then also manage to give are specific motivations. From getting good grades to the bigger car to the fancy vacation and everything in between. Sometimes they serve as motivation and sometimes as means to the motivation. To reach somewhere or to remain somewhere. Sometimes we run the world’s race, sometimes we run our own.  In both cases, there is a certain amount of hard work that goes into the race. We can bring luck into this context, but I wouldn’t still like to trivialise the effect of one’s efforts. Like I wrote a while back, in the context of my friend R, it is difficult to grudge a person his success when you realise the toil that has gone into it. I read this excellent speech delivered by Yahoo co-founder Jerry Yang delivered about a year back, which dwells on efforts and doing what you love.

    But I’ve also seen that sometimes the efforts are made and the results don’t show. Maybe it has to do with the direction or the efforts themselves or maybe its to do with perseverance. What does one, them motivate the self with? I’ve also noticed, from experience,  that when one resets one’s ‘race’, and tries to figure out a purpose outside the parameters of routine and conditioning, motivation is quite a tough job.  A bit like trying to find an answer to a question you don’t clearly know. Motivation is after all, dependent on the purpose. Thankfully, there’s something else that Hugh MacLeod has captured beautifully.

    unfulfilled potential

    The mind can will itself to be free of others’ expectations, but can it hold its own against the ego, which has expectations of the self. The fear – if that goes, what motivation exists? Except for the need ‘for some things to be certain.’ And that somehow is existing, and not living?

    until next time, track shuffle?

  • Plan B

    Actually it was quite a Plan A, since we’ve been hearing good things about this place for a couple of weeks now. (She insists I heard it from her first) And when pork and beef are involved, we usually have less of planning and more of execution.

    Plan B is on the ground floor of the same building as Hae Kum Gang, on Castle Street. Here’s a map to help you get there. As always, remember that Castle Street is a one way, and you cannot enter it from the Brigade Road side. Parking is relatively a simple task.

    Plan B has quite an attitude, and you can sense it as soon as you enter.  A lot of it is to do with the decor and those cool posters, and some of it is reflected in the nomenclature in the menu too. I was impressed enough to click a few snaps. (click to enlarge)

    I thought the branding behind the bar was done on a manhole cover, but I can’t be sure. The snap, unfortunately, didn’t turn out good. The place has a buzz about it, and its got less to do with Knopfler, REM or Axl Rose and more to do with the bright ambiance, and the people.

    This is the menu that ensured we got there. We were in a bit of dilemma on whether to start with pork or beef, but since pigging was the theme of the visit, Chilli Fried Pork it was. The soy sauce didn’t make its presence felt much, that was a good thing because the chillies could dominate. Excellent dish, I only wished it had been brought sizzling hot, we got it almost lukewarm.

    Meanwhile, we’d also (uncharacteristically) ordered a couple of interesting drinks. D ordered a Ruddy Mary (l) and I asked for a Diesel. (r) The Ruddy Mary has tomato juice mixed with beer with a dash of lime. Diesel is a mix of lager and cola. Interesting mixes, but in both cases, we felt the beer flavor proved to be too dominant. The drinks might have had more of a distinct character if the other flavours played a stronger role. But a good experiment, nevertheless.

    In the main course, beef and pork shared points, and chicken, perhaps for the first time in this blog’s history, was completely ignored. D ordered a Grilled Pepper Beef Steak, which she was quite happy with. The rice seemed buttered and different from the regular kind, and went very well with the steak. The sauce had permeated the meat, and though it acted tough with the knife, chewing wasn’t a problem. Even though it was well done, I think a steak knife was warranted. Also, the pepper sauce was a little too subtle. But despite that, the dish is worth a shot.

    I asked for a ‘Pigs in a Thermal Blanket’, a cryptic crossword kind of name for cured, spicy pork in a burger bun. Spicy it was, and the mayonnaise provided with it complemented it brilliantly. Those with a thing for greasy food will love this one. I did. In both dishes, the fried potato was a stand out item. Thanks to all of the above, we were quite stuffed, and asked for the bill, declining dessert.

    And then that Chocolate Mousse neon repeatedly winked at me. D promised to share, and we ended up ordering one. It was quite decent, nothing spectacular, but that’s more because of my preference for really strong chocolate than anything else.

    The service is prompt and generally excellent, and the owner does the rounds, adding to the casual and pleasant ambiance. Unfortunately, when he got to our table to chat, the pig and its greasiness prevented me from even offering a handshake.

    The meal cost us just less than Rs.1050, including a 5% service charge. I’d highly recommend a visit – for some awesome pork and beef, some neat experiments with beer, and a wonderful ambiance.

    Plan B, #20, Castle Street, Ashok Nagar. Ph: 9739902745

    Menu and photos at Plan B

  • Collective bargain

    “The way they speak about dinosaurs now, a few years later, that’s how they will talk about the mill workers”, says a character in City of Gold, a Hindi film by Mahesh Manjrekar, adapted from a play by Jayant Pawar. Its based on the Great Bombay Textile Strike. A decent movie, with some great performances and with its share of stark realty, though parts of the second half had a Bollywood melodrama hangover. I guess the response at the multiplexes (many of which are ironically what the mills gave way to) wasn’t really great either. But it was a story that had to be told.

    The subject has interested me earlier too. To be precise, in 2005, my last official trip to Mumbai. The office was at Peninsula Center, and when I looked out through the windows, I could see a few chimneys. I wondered enough to come back and read up a bit. I was curious because amidst the RGV underworld flicks and the contemporary images I had of Mumbai, this seemed to be a part of history that had never figured in conversations. A legacy that seemed to be buried in the collective consciousness.

    A single movie might not really be enough to cover the individual lives that were affected, though it does try to portray a microcosm. But as the line in Frost/Nixon goes “You know the first and greatest sin of the deception of television is that it simplifies; it diminishes great, complex ideas, stretches of time; whole careers become reduced to a single snapshot.”

    Though it is said in a different setting, and context, the connect I sensed was legacy. How a person is perceived by a later generation. Artists have their paintings, actors/directors/crew have their movies, politicians, sportsmen/women have their auto/biography/memoirs, authors have their books, musicians have their music, they have a better chance at being remembered by a larger number of people, long after they’re gone, a better chance than us, the commons. A  collective’s legacy would be the place and time they lived in  – the larger picture, their collective actions, the people who became popular, the events that shaped the future. What happens if a collective chooses not to remember, or chooses to remember only parts? Who does it matter to then?

    until next time, decadent chronicles