Tag: Andaman

Relative..reality

For some strange reason, I’ve read Pankaj Mishra’s books in reverse order..well, almost. I read The Romantics first, a long time before, and it remains a book I’m very attached to. Its a good book, but I’ve never figured out the exact reason for this strange bond, in spite of making a rare exception and reading it a second time. Maybe it was the time I first read it (a stage of life) or its characters or its title, someday I hope to know, it will tell me a bit more about myself, perhaps. But meanwhile, from The Romantics, I was lured straight to ‘Temptations of the West‘. A few months later, I read ‘An End to Suffering‘, which served as a kind of introduction to Buddhism for me, as Mishra mapped it on to his own spiritual evolution. I finally completed his first book, ‘Butter Chicken in Ludhiana: Travels in small town India’ more recently. Though its title would indicate so, calling it a travelogue would be a gross injustice, as it also manages to recreate the India of the 90’s. So, yes, it is a travelogue, but like many of its ilk, it works in space and time. No, this is not really a review. 🙂

I’m quite glad that I read his books in the order I did. If I read it earlier, I might have been irritated by the cynicism in the book. But having read his later books, I felt almost as though I was with him, as his thoughts and personality evolved. The book gives you loads of nostalgia triggers – from Baba Sehgal’s ‘Main bhi Madonna’ (i still remember the Magnasound casette cover :D) to mentions of Nonie and Mamta Kulkarni, it draws upon tiny incidents of those forgotten days.

Many of you may not be able to associate at all with those three people mentioned above, for me, they bring back an era, their importance is relative. I even wondered whether, in future, we will have nostalgia townships, like we have the amusement parks now. The 70s, 80s, 90s re-created in terms of people, music, movies, fashion and all the elements of pop culture that can be attributed to an era. So, when you have those nostalgia pangs, you can call a few friends and take a vacation to bring back a period in your life. 🙂

A common theme struck me as I ‘moved’ through the book’s pages. Mishra mentions Murshidabad looking towards Calcutta in hope, for job prospects and a better life in general. In many people’s perception, Kolkata is perhaps the worst of the metros on those terms. He writes about the ‘immense cultural vacuum of North india’, and ‘looking towards Bengal for instruction’, and the decline of Allahabad and Benaras. But I realised that for me, those two places were perhaps teeming with culture and history. Again, in Murshidabad, he talks to a person who considers the Babri Masjid as just another mosque, while a nation still burns at regular intervals – the repercussions of an act long ago. The common theme is the relative nature of these things – they means different things to different people, all relative versions of the same thing equally real, when considered from each point of view.

I remember thinking about progress during my Andaman visit. I saw it in its current state, and can visualise it in the years to come, as tourism becomes a larger factor in the scheme of things, and the changes it will invariably bring in, into a way of life. To quote from the book we’ve been discussing

Civilisation, however, is on the move, and as E.M.Cioran remarks, nothing more characterises the civilised man than the zeal to impose his discontents on those so far exempt from them.

When the tourist money flows into the system, it will help the locals afford many things that they perhaps didn’t have access to. But even those who do not wish to change might be sucked into this new way of life because it would be a question of survival. Were they better off and happier before all this happens to them? I don’t know, because after all, even happiness is so relative now.

Objectivity – based on observable phenomena and uninfluenced by emotions or personal prejudices, and not the result of any judgments made by a conscious entity. But everything is relative. Things not seen from one’s own perspective don’t seem to matter, and objectivity’s definition would suggest “no one’s perspective”. Maybe that’s why we don’t care for it much anymore?

until next time, time, space and relativism

March 10, 2010
Progress report

One of the most memorable parts of the Andaman trip was the conversation I had with D, on the day we went aimlessly walking on the promenade. The conversation also seemed to understand the mood and was in its own way, aimless. As i wrote in one of the posts, I am fascinated by night lights, especially by the sea shore. It reminds me of Cochin, and sends waves of nostalgia at me.

The entire trip had also made me wonder about human ‘progress’ and the motivation behind it. In a few minutes, the conversation that began there navigated itself to individual motivations. The comparisons with the Leh trip that I’d made a couple of hours before at Corbyn were still fresh in my mind. I had set expectations for this trip even before i started out – expectations not based on any previous trip to Andaman, but on previous vacations. I thought loudly on what these expectations were – the beauty of the place? the feelings the place and people evoked in us? a getaway from the daily grind? A new setting and a scope for ‘discovery’? Comfortable stay, good food? Probably any or all of these. Anyway the expectations were set.

And then D brought up one unacknowledged aspect – our projection of how wonderful the trip was, best characterised by the photos we share on FB and other private albums. (earlier, family gatherings and conversations) Isn’t that an expectation in itself – a proof of good times? Sometimes for ourselves, sometimes for others. I thought that was a good place to start understanding our motivation.

From childhood, when we had richer cousins/friends flaunting their better toys, or showing us snaps of places they’d been to, or talking about the wonderful food they’ve eaten, a kind of motivation existed – to match better that at some point in the future. A driving force that dictated the choices made in life, which justified the ‘sacrifices’ made. Study hard to get better grades, to get a better job, to make more money and to finally get all the things that the cousins/friends had, even if it was a couple of decades late, all the stuff that can be a justification for what is (in a sense) euphemistically called the rat race. And then to look back at the proof of achievement and let out an audible sigh of accomplishment.

The problem arises perhaps not from being a rat even at the end of the race, but probably the realisation that a personal motivation got subverted into a generic rat race, which then became a motivation in itself. The rest of the life story would depend on the stance towards the original motivation. In many cases, the race stops, the baggage is dropped and a path of ‘self discovery’ is started.

In my personal map, this is the place where I see a ‘You are here’ sign. I would’ve been happy with this, if I hadn’t realised that it has the same ending as the rat race. The path is different, and because there are no obvious indicators like the rat race, I have to evolve my own set of indicators. But the desired end is the same, simplistically put, personal growth, with previously decided benchmarks. The consolation offered is that it was reached on one’s own terms. I wonder, is it really one’s own terms if the destination is no different?

Ayn Rand said “Man’s ego is the fountainhead of human progress”. Human progress, not just from a humankind perspective – the places and things he builds, but a deeply personal one too, as the ‘ego’ would indicate. I was conscious of this when I shared the Andaman photos, conscious that somewhere, someone was setting a benchmark and the beginning of a race, just like I had, and continue to do, even outside the rat race. And I wonder whether I’ve really replaced one rat race with another in my case. And I still continue to wonder about ‘progress’.

until next time, progress cards with my own signature :]

November 25, 2009
Andamanned – Part 3 – Blair wich

Part 1 and Part 2

We caught the return ferry at 3 pm, and this time, we got the non a/c seats. Arrgh, and as if that wasn’t enough, there were some noisy seat related quarrels, which thankfully didn’t involve us, so it was like watching a serial you couldn’t avoid. At about 4.30 the boat docked, and I wondered if this was some fast boat. I decided to check before getting out, only to be told that this was Neil Island and Port Blair was another one and a half hours away!! After fretting inside the boiler accommodation for 2.5 hours, we discovered the freedom on the deck (the sun had set by then).

The Port Blair view was fantastic, with the roaming beam from the light house and the glittering lights from the coast. We landed at only about 7 and were taken to the Citi King Palace hotel. The surroundings scared us, but the room was good enough, and the owner, extremely helpful. He had already got us tickets for our trip the next day, and arranged a taxi for our use. We had dinner at The Lighthouse Residency, another place which we had read a lot about, and turned out to be only about a 10 mins walk away from our hotel. Slightly disappointing food, but the place did offer a spectacular view.

The next day’s main trip was supposed to be to an island called Jolly Buoy, but we discovered that it has been closed after the tsunami, and our tickets were for Red Skin island. We had breakfast at Ananda, who also packed us a biriyani lunch. Plastic is banned there, and we were checked for plastic (they are replaced with jute bags) The boat names seemed to indicate a subtle tussle between the internet giants. I allowed myself a smile, it was let through.

After Havelock, Red Skin’s attractions – the glass bottomed boat and snorkeling was quite a come down. D beat me hands down in terms of expectations. While I had imagined a fiber glass boat, D had dreamt about a submarine like thing which would be completely under water, the reality was this.

Later, we also realized we hadn’t brought a towel, so I was forced to do a Salman in the water as my spare tee was kept as a towel. No, no packs, hell, remember we even forgot to pack a damn towel. Bloody double whammy- glass bottom and topless!!

We got back by around 2 and did a little trip to Wandoor, where D bagged her second naariyal paani, and we discovered more topless entities, and their roots.

We went back to the hotel, and thanks to the ickiness induced by the salt water + heat combination, were forced to take a bath. We rested a bit and left for Corbyn’s cove at 4. Corbyn is about 20 mins from town, and is unfortunately an example of the extent to which we can dirty a nice beach. But strangely, despite that, I felt very peaceful there. It could’ve been many things. The time, it was about 5 by the time we left – sunset time. It could’ve been the large (in terms of numbers, cheapos) Indian families, floating in the water almost fully dressed, and busy clicking away with their analog cameras. I’m not being condescending, mind you, it had a nostalgic effect.

I was suddenly reminded that just like the beaches at Havelock, my days on Andaman were numbered. I also realized that I was unconsciously comparing this trip to Leh, and this beach to the ones at Havelock, and even comparing the pictures I’d been taking so far. I was also looking at Ross Island across the water, and ruing that I chose Jolly Buoy over Ross Island, even though we had a decent time there. The families I mentioned earlier were enjoying the moment completely, they probably weren’t even going to Havelock, and would know about the pictures they’d taken only after they were developed. I had read about Japanese bunkers at Corbyn’s cove, but even if they were, they’d been turned into waste bins!!

On our way back to town, I could see sides of the road being dug up, and I wondered how long it would be before the Jap bunkers on the roadside would be removed! For the second time in the trip, I wondered about progress.

To be Continued…..

November 10, 2009
Andamanned – Part 2 – Nagaron ke beach main

My sarcasm regarding the airport welcome, it seemed, wasn’t totally lost on the resort staff, as two people waited on/for us at Havelock. In about 20 mins, we were at Island Vinnie’s, on beach #5 (alias Vijay Nagar beach). On the way we passed Beach #3 (alias Govind Nagar, which also serves as a market place for Havelock). Havelock, I’d say is Goa without the overdose of tourism. Coincidentally, I was reading Michener’s ’Chesapeake’, and was at the part where the coming of the white man destroyed the paradise the Indians had. Later, when I would remark (sometimes) on the lack of options in Havelock (compared to Goa), I’d also wonder about ’progress’, and how its positives and negatives are such a subjective thing, as is the answer to the question ’where to draw the line’ when it comes to change and progress.

Meanwhile, though the watch claimed 5.30 pm IST, it was already dark. Obviously nature cares two hoots about IST, not unlike the Indian nature. My body, however, seemed to understand the new time very well. I was famished, and we had an early dinner at the newly opened ‘Full Moon café’ at Vinnie’s.

Though some of the menu items had still not made their debut in the kitchen, there were enough options. And it felt almost like home, because Vinnie played ‘The Prestige’ by popular vote. Dinner watching a movie. We disappeared towards the middle of the movie. No one applauded, thankfully. D wanted to get up in time for the sunrise. She was told that it was at 4.45 AM. The early bird might get the worm, but on my sleep I was firm. All vacation days are like Sundays, I get to see the sun at a time of my choosing. Hmmph. She did get some awesome snaps though.

We’d planned a snorkeling trip at Elephant Beach, so my snoring stopped at about 6.30 (!!) and we set out at 7.30. We got there to find out that the Navy guys wanted to do some shooting there, with real guns, so snorkeling was not allowed on that day. I remembered the Army guys playing spoilsport in Leh. I wanted to argue with them that they had a vast sea and many uninhabited islands to do target practice, and that I had my own shooting plans, but the gun silenced me. Talk about Navy Blues, thankfully, our resort staff took us to a nearby place which they said was equally good. Unfortunately, though, D betrayed her fishy star sign. She gulped before we got into the water, during the time we were underwater, and after we got back into the boat, when we were given samosas. No, actually, underwater, she behaved like the South African cricket team. She choked, but thankfully only after we did a fair bit of snorkeling.

We got back in about four hours and spent an hour on the resort beach, where you could go a long distance into the water and would still be only waist deep in water. We had read about the Red Snapper restaurant and decided to go there for lunch. Its five minutes away from Vinnie’s and worth a visit. The Goan fish curry and the full Bluefin Trevally with Chinese sauce are highly recommended.

We got back and I napped (my default mode during vacations) a bit before going to the famous beach #7 (alias Radha Nagar), about 9km from Vinnie’s. I think the hype set stellar expectations, and I found it to be less impressive than say, Palolem, in Goa. Forget Goa, the beach at the resort was way better, I thought. But I managed to film “A Snail’s pace” there, and D managed to get the naariyal paani, which had been eluding her all this while. At just Rs.10. We had hired an auto for the entire trip, and the journey, especially the return, on winding roads, with glimpses of the village life, gave me quite a sense of peace. At a price, of course, Rs. 500, for the to and fro journey, and a wait of an hour and a half.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uyvkAUOtzbU

When Vinnie got to know our travails, starting from the ferry fiasco, he offered to knock 50% off from the ‘Meet and Greet’ package, and give us a complimentary trip the next day to see the mangroves. We accepted the latter and enjoyed it, more thanks to David who took us to Wilson Island, an amazing little place.

We had a largely forgettable lunch at Seashells, and finally, it was time to say goodbye to our little hut.

To be continued….

November 5, 2009
Andamanned – Part 1 – The Chennai conditioning

I could say “No man is an island, yet Andaman is” or I could say “No man is an island, nor is Andaman, it is a group of islands”. Bwahaha. Forgive me, all that time in the water must’ve diluted the brevity of this twit. Either that, or the brewed stuff that was also consumed occasionally. Really cheap stuff, that’s apparently made in AP – light Gult stuff that won’t make you feel guilty.

As per the status message across platforms, I was off to Havelock, away from keys, I wouldn’t get bored, though I wouldn’t be surfing, because I’d be watching surf, and waves (of the non-Google kind). Ironically, the first notable event was meeting a fellow Twitterer. 6AM finds me groggy, if awake, flight or no flight. Anyway, since my display picture across networks is an initial, I’m usually saddled with the responsibility of initiating conversations with people I recognise. I remembered this person because of his awesome puns (like this gem), so it was good fun to suddenly turn and ask him ‘Are you Partha?’, and to see him looking at me curiously. If he wasn’t Partha, I was prepared to give the 6AM excuse. But he handled it pretty well when I introduced myself as the handle he knows on Twitter. So, at the high altitudes where birds usually tweet each other, two Twitterers ended up having a normal chat. It turned out that he was off to AP, and as his profile states, he is into ‘consumer research to help sell beer’. Beery eyed and bleary eyed, we landed in Chennai.

Chennai usually gives me a warm welcome, okay, that’s an understatement, it’s a bloody hot one. So its kind of insulting to insinuate that Chennai gave me a cold, but my sinuses are proof that the Chennai airport, which seemed to be making a desperate attempt to get rid of the ‘bloody hot’ (no, that doesn’t make it anti Channel V) tag, was on freezer mode, almost did. Every time I found a relatively warm corner, it did a Sub Zero (from Mortal Kombat) move on me. It didn’t help that our flight was delayed. On the board, the time never changed to the new time. From an earlier adventure, I had my doubts and I finally asked the KF Help Desk what time the flight was expected.

“You can go for the security check, sir”, she said, “the flight will take off in less than half an hour”

“So, why don’t you change the status on that board”

“If there is a delay, we don’t change it, sir”

It was only about 9.45 (during vacations, sleep-wake patterns are deferred by about 2.30 hours), so I didn’t trust myself to have heard correctly. Anyway, it was a welcome break from the real time status updates on Twitter and FB. So, we made the flight, and though we didn’t expect a meal on the flight, we actually got breakfast. The only disclaimer is that when they announced ‘alpaahar’, they really meant it literally. After they served the meal, I thought I’d ask the air hostess for the main course, but D played spoilsport again. Oh, okay, I couldn’t be mean to anyone who gives me a chocolate mousse anyway. 😀

Andaman didn’t quite hit it off with us in the beginning. I was quite worried. After our sulk with Goa, we’d planned Andaman last year, but that’s when D reacted violently to the idea. I was afraid if there was some jinx involved. There was a driver from our resort at Havelock, he was holding a placard that displayed the resort name, the snag was that he was looking for a single foreigner, and I failed on both counts. Obviously D was partly to blame. After all the passengers had left, we were left looking at each other, and he finally took us to the ferry. Mis-communication, we were told, but fortunately, we didn’t miss the ferry to Havelock, they had tickets. There are only 2-3 that ply daily, and even boats worked like a well oiled machinery only when palms were greased. The rishwat ka rishta with the mainland, I was touched. Apparently, getting tickets was a real pain, and that was what had prevented Havelock from becoming like Goa.

The boat had a a/c and non a/c options (within the latter, there were even a couple of 7 seater rooms, with what seemed like lounge chairs). We couldn’t see outside from the a/c section (which was at a lower level) but realized its worth only on the return trip. Moreover, we could move around the deck with no restrictions. A vast ocean, dark, angry, choppy, an awesome contrast to the equally vast, light blue, calm sky. The journey takes two and a half hours, and somewhere in between, D wondered if she should try these instructions on me.

To be continued……

November 3, 2009