Ego and WeGo

Lessons from the drunken Master

Mumbai is known for its three seasons – Hot, Hotter and Hottest. Who can vouch for it better than a sales person, braving the mean bambaiyya streets at all seasons! The weather was pumping the mercury real high and the humid breeze mixed with dust was sapping out all my energy. However that summer Friday was having something exciting waiting for me at the end of the day just before the beginning of another cozy slothy weekend.

The newest client of my company had its event in the evening at a five star hotel where I was heading towards. I finished my other calls of the day early and I was the first to be there at the venue apart from a few event coordinators and my senior who was busy doing a tango with a phone in his right ear, hearing a mic test through his left, watching the carpenters through his right eye and a reserved left eye to watch for the clients entry.

All of us finally settled together to have a brief of the event. My eyes couldn’t miss this person of a goliath stature with a pair of thin rim spectacles doing a balancing tightrope act on the edge of his nose. He had a grim expression on his face as he closely scrutinized a piece of paper with writings in blue scarred by edits in red. Just when I was observing things around, He saw me rushing to my events team to erect a branding signage that had given way. My glance returned to the gentle giant since by now I thought that he was the Vice President from my client’s side. My doubts were clarified when he introduced himself as Pablo, the compere of the evening. He gave his Goan aloha smile as though he cast off the grim-faced expression “Mask” effortlessly.

The client team made a grand entry led by the marketing manager who had just escaped from Shakespeare’s play – Taming of the Shrew. Following her was the Vice President of marketing, who had a rectangular pale face and almost similar shaped PDA phone with a wireless earphone blinking a bright blue light. He looked like a taxiing aircraft ready to take off at the drop of a towel. The Lady manager da’ marketing made her first fully loaded attack on poor Pablo and his script.

The red marks on his script increased courtesy the editing scissors of the client. He came to me and gave me a look that clearly showed that his script was turned inside out and he was certainly not having a good feeling about it. The frown on his face was like that of a dull student who just received his report card with many failed subjects, with the prominent and ruthless red marks. He sprayed his cinnamon flavoured mouth-freshner, waiting to blurt out the remade script, and in the due course of the event managed to deliver a splendid performance by holding the show and the attention of the audience together.

The conference ended with people rushing to the bar counter for their share of drinks like children running to the sandwich seller during their slim lunch break. Pablo managed to get his fair share and sat to enjoy with his drinks, while I sat with my usual mocktail sans liquor. I met up with most of the guests who were the top technology decision makers from various large companies based in Mumbai. Pablo, was trying to flirt and “tame” the shrew by being courteous to her asking whether she had dined, but he withdrew at her cold stares. He winked at me as I smiled watching that scene. He asked me for my feedback on his presentation while appreciating me for being a young and proactive member of a nice events and media company that could garner the business of a large client .

Pablo remarked “Nagesh, do you see this lady here with her bosses and the way she is fighting with her sales people who are volunteering at the desk? She almost made a royal mess of the show. You would have certainly seen some of the guests simply walk out of the show. “Its their ego that has spoilt things without which the show may have been better” . I could see a bit of frustration in his speech which was not just because his script was messed up, but as he claimed the show could have been better like the many others he compered.

He further said “I liked the way you were working with your events folks without a worry that your arrow shirt would get a stain. This attitude of yours will see you go places higher”. Anybody likes a good praise, with me as no exception. Just when I was about to be carried away, Pablo warned me, “Nagesh, don’t be like them ever… They have Ego.. in your case there is a small difference.. its WEgo. Both of you manage to get your work done , but in your case everyone is happy and content and the surroundings is full of celebrations! Where as in their case of Ego, its only frustration” Just that W mattered a lot indeed. Thanks to Pablo and the extra pegs that made him open up a lovely conversation, I had an important message about modifying my weaknesses just by a letter and turning things around for everyone’s happiness and success.

My faith in learning and getting from simple things and people around me in all forms, got strengthened further. Despite Pablo being drunk, he had a message for me that came out through our conversation.

After that day, I smile wider at my every colleague and take pride in being their man Friday at times when they need my help. That’s when I remember my friend Pablo.

Garaj Baras - Notes from a rain-soaked day

It was a day after i cleared the dust from Hawking's "A Brief History of Time", to sink into an experience of feeling how miniscular and insignificant we are in this mysterious conspiracy which we have conveniently named "The Universe". Perhaps the day after that, was when Mama Nature had scheduled her practical exercise to prove me the same point with a milder version of her boundless power.

After seeing through the exercise, I am tempted to write my observations which i hope, describe Her session with me!

The Gray Day (July 24,2005)

Six months back i had enthusiastically laid my hands on an original edition of the Stephen Hawking best seller, with my biting conscience resisting the temptating calls of the pirate seller who was giving it away at one fourth the price without bargain in the streets of Fort, Mumbai.

Each progressing word of the book gave me an out-of-body experience and took me farther and farther away from the surface of the earth. I was feeling myself shrink smaller with the book gently unfolding the limitless expanse of the Universe with its innumerable unanswered riddles.

Back to the world that we know as real (which by then was an imaginary projection), the skies were getting darker, challenging the reducing lumens of the sunlight that passed through the mounting clouds. Despite being near-twilight at 12 noon, The clouds were as stingy as much as they were dark, since they did not even spare a single drop of rain! Meanwhile news started pouring that the far off suburbs and places like Thane and Panvel is where the action was happening with the fear of floods in few places.

I got myself prepared for the next day at work when my client had called for a meeting, I finished my day at work at normal time without even seeing a single drop of rain and cursing myself for carrying the extra weight of the umbrella, which was dry as its owner :-). The day ended peacefully.. Perhaps it was what they call the silence before the storm

The May Day ( July 25, 2005)

I woke up with enthusiasm, which i used to don during my days as a sales person, smiling brightly at the mirror. I had a client meeting, which is very rare in my present case where in most of the things happen over phone and email. I dressed carefully in a bright white arrow shirt with a brown Allen Solly trouser. The only dark spot in the shirt was the flauntable arrow logo on the right cuff. I was tempted to wear a neck-tie but the folks at my office would think its my birthday and demand a treat.

I reached office guarding my white shirt with a windcheater which bore my company logo. At two thirty, i took my eyes off my computer to look out towards the window. It felt as though some divine hands had dimmed the lamps outside, casting an uncanny gray ambience over the central garden green. It was darker than usual, felt as though it was past 7 PM, but my watch argued otherwise. The rain started its onslaught by 2.30 and from the confines of the office, it felt as though it was yet another ordinary heavy rain of Mumbai which could be easily scaled with the courtesy of my windsheater and umbrella together.

The Voyage begins

(Well begun is half done?? Well, we were almost done for)

At 3 PM, Boss and I left office in a cab, thinking that train may be a problem. At Dadar, the storm cloud bursted its with-held bladders on our helpless cab which was flapping its windshield wiper in desperation. The inside of the glass was fogged with the driver trusting his gut-feel of the mean streets, and by the faint glow of the tail lamps that filtered through the frosted windshield.

Every ten minutes we asked the driver where we had reached... Prabhadevi.. Dadar...Shivaji park...Mahim..Every reply saw us getting disappointed over the fact that we would be late for the meeting. Little did we know that our appointment was fixed for another terribly demanding client... The weather.
We tried to reach the client, but darn!! his phone was sounding busy. We finally got stuck up at the Mahim causeway signal. I dared to ask the cabbie how far the highway was and he bleeped "Ek aadha kilometer sahab". Its then i realized that the water from the sea face was appearing to cross the Hutments of the fisherfolk and creeping into the busy streets. The wayside palms bent beyond their usual 90 degrees, as though they were bowing down to a noble woman approaching dressed in a strange grey garb. The scene was highlighted with a heavy confetti of wind-dispersed raindrops.

The water levels on the road rose higher and finally i could feel the waves hitting the bottom sheet of the cab, under my feet. A couple of apathetic heavy vehicles created a strong wavepool in which i could feel my cab almost drifting.

As a citizen of a democratic nation, the cabbie utilized his fundamental right to abuse the government for forcing his cab to run on CNG engine which is the first to succumb to the rains. His predictions were true and the car finally stalled at the causeway. He begged us to pay a flat higher rate to compensate his day and asked us to jump the divider.

I told boss that we had no other option but to get drenched. Luckily i had many plastic bags in which i could safely confine my most precious digital camera, which i was hoping to carry to my friends house to capture a function, and my ardhaangini.. my phone.

Moment of truth:The moment i stepped out of the cab, we got drenched to the bone in five seconds flat, as though my arrow shirt topped with the windcheater and the trousers, were no clothes at all. The raindrops felt like bullets, not that i had braved any of them to know the experience, but it hurt hard on the face. We somehow jumped over the divider and saved ourselves from knee deep water to land in ankle depth. We quickly decided that the highway route would be the best since the interior roads would have been flooded with open manholes at large.

As we dashed out towards the highway, we were racing against a crowd moving in the opposite direction. A papaya tree gave up its vows to the ground it stood and crashed just a couple of steps ahead of us. After pushing hard against the wind and the cheek-piercing rain-shrapnels.

We took a five second refuge under the shade of the foot-over bridge whose roof could not stop the horizontal raindrops. We decided to walk to the highway towards Bandra and all the way till Sion to catch a train from there. We thought the rain was seeming heavy there because of the seasiude and were still hopeful that the trains were running on the central side.

The flyover crossing the highway served as a partial shelter to stranded people, mainly two wheel riders, who were already tormented by wearing soaked helmets to save themselves from the sadist cops. We did not stay under the bridge for too long. Despite our age difference, my boss and I felt like two school boys enjoying getting themselves drenched after bunking their classrooms. But by the time we reached the next signal we could be certified as aquatic. Near the kala-nagar signal we caught hold of a Rickshaw and asked him to take us to Sion, He agreen reluctantly but after seeing an ocean at bandra kurla complex he took a U-turn.

We saw many people taking the flooded side footpath of the road which also had open manholes, We saw a lady tripping but thankfully she was safe. WE took the center of the road and carefully followed the vehicles ahead of us.

We passed through Dharavi towards Sion. My boss was not willing to believe that we were passing through Asia's largest slum since the Road side was looking like a full fledged leather mall, save that it was all part submerged, with the tanned hides of jackets, purses, shoes and belts lapping up the storm water. At a distance i pointed to the Sion station which appeared hazy behind the showers.

When we reached the station, boss was looking at the indicator, just when i pointed the platform to him and we both started laughing like madmen. The water level over the tracks had come up to the level of the platform and was flowing towards kurla at a pace much faster than the stalled trains.

Just when we were walking towards the next signal, a car brushed by us and its owner offered us a lift till chembur which was quite close to my home and meant few Km's nearer to boss as well. THrough the traffic our car went slowly. the car was luxurious with the FM radio stations busy playing item numbers and old movie songs in a contrasting combo, but nothing about the real world! Perhaps the radio compere had kept the auto playlist in control and fled home, I thought.

Some of the driest places, everard nagar, priyadarshini were all submerged and looking they were resting on a shiny red muddy surface. with few abandoned cars floating towards the side gutters. We somehow reached the Kurla signal flyover where we parted with our host. Vehicles were not moving beyond since there was a sudden increase in water levels here and what we saw was the Red Sea!! We walked slowly through the flood. My Arrow shirt was going through a natural wash cycle of the raindrops while my allen solly trousers and bata leathers were beating the flood waters. Despite forcing my boss to come to my house, he decided to put his efforts or call me later. We parted at the next signal.

7 PM, The fading sunshine made me realize how chaotic it was without electricity anywhere, with a vehicle breathing its last gasp every 50 meters.

"Is this my Locale or has its address changed??"

As i crossed the Amar Mahal Signal I saw many vehicles getting "amar" before reaching their "mahals". Shoppers stop.. sumaria.. Gautier and the small grocer's shop, the rains were equally merciless to all. They did not even have the opportunity to move their stocks.

Finally i was relieved to reach the entrance of the area where i stay, only to see a giant tree collapsed to make my home feel farther away. The next morning after the skies had relatively cleared i was horrified to see a dead man under that. I felt that he would have been there when i walked past on my way back, when perhaps he lay unconscious ..maybe gasping... but with his heart still beating.. coming to a grinding halt to its rhythmic ritual of 30 plus years in that person's chest.

The water got deeper as i finally entered my lane.. In the near-darkness, I was horrified to see my groundfloor neighbor's abandoned homes filled with water till the waist. There was not a soul to be seen on the street or in the building balcony. Soon i did glimpse candle lights through the rain which was now forceful as the waterfalls i had bathed at the Malshej ghats.

This was the first time that i was thankful that my home was on the third floor. I walked in pitch darkness with light from the screen of my mobile phone. Mom was glad to see me home, we were hosting our ground floor neighbour who had to abandon her car and come to our home with her son. I was glad that my sister decided to stay at her office who took all their employees later to a nice guest house in Malabar Hill. My niece was playful as usual, undettered by the absence of electricity and her mom's electrifying voice (hehe sister bashing as usual). We were worried about Dad but he was home by midnight with an experience more tiresome than what i went through.

But i thanked God that despite releasing his wrath on us he did take special care of my family and rendered us safe. This situation made me feel as though the roof of my house was removed and extended to cover whole of mumbai, which made me pray hard for everyone. But unfortunately some had to leave unexpectedly, with the rains as a sudden reason.

Switched on the radio which was busy with its digital item number playlists with thin slices of situation of mumbai which made no sense. All India radio Mumbai was busy with experts debating on what happened in the union strike in Gurgaon. The PRO of Railways was optimistic to start the services in no time, however the "no time" is not yet due.

The cribs can be endless... but it was a different experience to start the chapter on "space and time" in The book - A Brief history of time, in dim candlelight, with all the other modes of information and entertainment reduced to dead solids.

The air was aloud with the sound of the raindrops accelerated by the wind, and was heavy with dampness. Soon got accustomed to it which finally put me to sleep, where the darkness of the room shook hands with the jet blacks of my sound slumber.

Regards,

Nagesh

How Infosys was born - a reminiscence by Sudha Murthy

A perfect love story and a great source of inspiration Check the story in the link below:

Sudha Murthy is my Favorite writer

How infosys was born - a reminiscence by Sudha Murthy

Malshej Ghat in Monsoon

Visit my blog on a wondrous weekend at Malshej Ghat.
at
http://nagpai.blogspot.com

Photos here

Cheers!
Nagesh

Malshej Miles and Glowing Smiles :-)

The Plot builds up

(Click here for "Maalshej Guts - The Movie" Photographs from paradise)

It was another week of mounting excitement for a walk amidst natural glimpses (not the usual bird watching) that was greening my head. Thereafter my main agenda of talks with my friends was trekking. The first experience of Vangani this season, was highly encouraging and I asked my team whether they were willing to tread again! The members were not certain initially whether they would have an off on Saturday when we were planning for the outing.

We had an email ring amongst us where in people were arguing between Trek, Movie, lunch, esselworld and well, others stated that they had some “Special” appointments over the weekends. I was somewhat disappointed when we were not able to freeze on an outing. That’s when I decided that I would go solo to Matheran.

That’s when my “intelligence agenct” in ex-office told me that a group from the ex- sister -concern, whose members were very close to me, were planning an outing. To their surprise (hopefully pleasant?? ) I inquired and got myself a berth for a wondrous trip to Malshej.

Friday night fury

I was almost disappointed when my client called for a meeting on Saturday. I told my boss that I had a personal commitment which I had to oblige (Like a good subordinate I revealed it to him the same evening). My way with words and fate helped me escape the clutches of a Saturday meeting.

After being cleared by my professional boss I had to face my domestic boss, not my wife, meri to shaadi bhi nahin hui hai, still safe and scot-free. It was my mom saying “tera character phisla jaa raha hai, you don’t stay at home in weekends, you are roaming like the wind, look at your niece you don’t even play with her (niece smiles and shies off to her momma) You don’t go to the temple and are going away from God and religion, And when I tell you anything you don’t respect it”

I smiled and asked her whether she could pack me a loaf of buttered bread…. She agreed and packed apples and chocolate too .. now that’s my momma!!

Saturday Morning Raga

Saturday as usual my alarm failed, but my mom was accurate and she struck more than six times at six o’clock. I was half awake when she reminded me that it was time. Quickly bundled myself and reached Bhandup station well before time. The best thing to do was admire nature and her creations sitting on platform one. But I found my creative imagination getting stressed with not many faces to see.. except…Thaaaat one.. that unforgettable face which passed me from the women’s first class!! Ahhhh She was the first good omen of the great day ahead. While she sped towards VT on the train, I walked in the opposite direction towards the ticket counter where I was supposed to meet Prafull and Sudhir.

The Fineart of "FACT" Fabrication

Soon the team was together, with the girls disclosing a very ancient fine art that they had written. The fine art of bluffing.

Alibi # 1 : For girls with conservative parents ( some of them commissioners of culture police) : Statement : “I told my dad that I was going for a magazine launch” . The only magazine we found there later was in the form of torn pages with the wada pav wallah. She did innaugrate one such Magazine to eat peanuts packed in it.. So effectively she did not lie.


Alibi # 2: A lady with an injured toe who cant be allowed for a rough trek … “Mama I am going to esselworld and I promise not to sit in the dangerous rides”. Ahem .. madam .. slight change in plan.. We are going to Water Kingdom!! No, not the plastic one but of real solid rock and pure non chlorine water!!! She ain’t lying again!

These great girls have lately resolved to write a book of bahaanas (soon to be a bestseller) to help other aspirants. However I am sure their parents are also maintaining a log of bahaanas and their corresponding connotations (soon to be a bestseller too).

Sometimes wind and sometimes rain

The weather got humid and the sun started playing hide and seek, threatening to ruin our outing. We finally reached the venue with our Ooh aah Wows echoing the valley as our vehicle sped past to the top. There we were catching the first glimpse of the vertical rocks. Just when I was wondering how are we gonna climb till there, I saw that there were plenty of waterfalls by the road side with some of them already occupied.

The beauty of the place was that we could see the clouds playing close by us and the temperature was cool. All we could see was different shades of green and grey, as though the other colours had disappeared from the spectrum. Prafull and I took the first splash and all of us were soon wet and brrr brrr shivering like a nokia phone on vibes.

We sent our vehicle down, back towards the base and decided that we would take a nice long walk and test all the waterfalls on the way.

On our way back we had our primate cousins who were closely supervising the passerbys for some goodies. One of them was lucky since he got a big bottle of bisleri thrown at him by a “good Samaritan” from our team in a valiant act of self defence ;-).

Studio Paradiso

The beauty of the place filled my heart with creativity and I managed to take few snaps with a different angle. Prafull and the rest of them were great volunteers. Few oblivious visitors were also a part of the picture frame, psst psst without their knowledge as you may see in the photo..

This was one of the days when everything went perfectly fine, Murphy’s law was defied big time. The weather further welcomed us with her cooling raindrops whose taste blended well with that of appam and foreign chocolates.

We were reminded by our group member that her “Magazine launch” was coming towards the end while the other member wondered that its too early to reach home from Esselworld. We finally added some more bahaanas to the list to save their days and we all set off towards our homes.


On our way back we raised a toast of Paani kam chai which Prafull also splashed me with due to reasons unknown. We promised that we will unite once again for another memorable day.......AMEN!

Regards,

Nagesh

An Ode to Her Music

Salutations at Thy Lotus Feet,
Oh Goddess of divine music.
Melodies and Dance together meet,
and cast a spell of Pure Magic

Your Magical tunes although,

ain't just mere illusion.

The North east west and south,

find here a harmonic fusion.

May your lilting music flow
to far flung solitary lands
Irrigating lush green oases
amidst frigid desert sands

An admirer of the art manifest

Has no more words to say

may your music heal one and all

Is what I will ever Pray.

........Pied Paiper

Fortify your PC

Protection and Prevention

Tired of slowdowns and those chilling PC Freezes just when your favorite chat friend is online or when you have to send your critical report to boss?? Tired of blaming murphy's laws (everything that can go wrong will go wrong at the wrong time)?? To help you tilt the odds towards your side and prevent unfortunate uncertainities, here are certain beginners tips which may prove helpful

There are three armors that need to be clad on your PC to keep it in the pink of its heath

A) Antivirus - (AVG or Avast) with regular updates
b) Spyware detection and protection: (Spybot - Search and destroy) with regular updates
c) Firewall - (zone alarm)


A) Antivirus.. The bare essential:

Avast as well as AVG have free home editions with unlimited updates. After installing any of these, its important that we keep the software updated with the latest virus definitions that are posted by these companies. You will find many PCs with Norton which still get infected, the reason : the live update is not run to keep the updates up-to date.

The updates can be done through the program itself. While AVG has an option of scheduling, Avast home edition has an option of downloading the updates as and when they are available that too automatically without the user having to bother to do it. The beauty of Avast is that the packets of updates are smaller in size and are sent almost on a daily basis to ensure that your PC is ahead and protected from the numerous viruses that are written daily. The updates happen whenever the user connects to the net and an Audio visual prompt is displayed when the update completes. Avast also has the capacity of blocking attempted hacking, however we will need a firewall to ensure total protection from this.

Avast user interface however takes sometime to get friendly. It asks for a serial number when you run it for the first time by rightclicking on the tray icon. The serial number can be obtained free of cost by filling a form on their website and by giving your valid mail address.

Important STEPs for Avast Antivirus :

0) Download the setup of Home edition from Avast.com

1) Disconnect the LAN Cable (for lan and Lan internet users)

2) Uninstall the older Antivirus from Add Remove programs in Windows control panel

3) Install the Avast AV program using the downloaded setup file

4) Fetch the serial number of the program by filling a form on Avast.com

5) right click on the tray icon or start the program from Start button>> program files

6) Enter the serial number and set the Resident Protection option to "high"

Everytime you logon after this, you will see a small spherical icon in the system tray and a message telling you that the database has been updated.

b) Spyware prevention and removal:

S

pywares are slightly different from viruses in the way they work. Spywares are one of the main reasons for slow down of your net speed. Spwares are implanted by various websites and miscreants for various reasons, the main motive being, sending your usage information which could include your passwords to a particular source.

Few spyware enable a miscreant to take control of your PC resources, thats when you see your PC getting slow with connection speed dropping drastically. While antivirus softwares do stop few Spywares, there are few elusive ones that escape its dragnet.

Spybot search and destroy not only helps to scan and remove the spyware already on the PC, but also innoculates the PC against further breaches. The software also doesnt conflict with the antivirus software which runs on the PC.

The software can be downloaded from http://security.kolla.de . Install the software and update it with the net connection on. The first update may take longer upto 15 minutes. Thereafter you may check for updates every fortnight.

Run the program regularly and remove the spyware which are shown.

c) Firewall (Zone Alarm) : Prevention is better than cure

Zone alarm is undisputable when it comes to prevention against unauthorized intrusions. The best part is that this fabulour program comes to you free of cost with the advanced features available for a period of 15 days before which, most of the times the company launches a new product upgrade.

Zone alarm prevents the intrusion of viral programs and hackers from outside who may exploit a vulnerability in your pc and try to access your valuable data and resources. Zone Alarm also stops programs in your PC to access the net without your permission. Eg. Adobe Acrobat and real player have a software which tries to access the net and consume bandwidth.

In the beginning the program needs to "learn" about the legitimate programs in your PC. eg. It will ask "MSNMSGR wants to access internet do you wisht to allow?" when you try to run MSN Messenger. There is an option in this prompt which says "Remember option" . Next time MSN messenger tries to access it will allow directly.

If at any given time it creates a problem which cant be ascertained by you, go to the icon which appears in the Tray, right click and select quit.

Antivirus with regular updates, Spyware prevention along with Zone alarm will ensure that your PC survives even the worst epidemic!

Happy protection!

Nagesh

Vangani Travelog

Check out

http://nagpai.blogspot.com

This is a log of a nice weekend trek that I had.

here are the photos too!!

PHOTOZ

Vangani Vagabonds

Game plan:

The plan was being formed over the past week like a brewing cauldron over the fire. Until the three chefs decided to unite over the weekend and make it boil over into a sumptuous experience. Although everyone was invited, it was the names of just these three wanderers that was written on the greens of Vangani, the starting point of the Sahyadris.

Here is how it started, Kunal and Raj MSNed me about a weekend plan to Matheran, which i topped with a proposition for a nice walk from Neral to Matheran rather than taking a cab or a train, where we could catch some scenic natural beauty and waterfalls where we could bathe in aqua pura before the mineral water companies could bottle it at the downstream(hehe and you thought that bottled water was untouched and contained only pesticides).

Destination Declared:

With the idea of trek being readily accepted, i was quick to present an alternate destination which is ideal for a one day tread, wherein we could keep the sunday to ourself and probably go for an oil massage if we found the slopes too tiring. I suggested Vangani, which is almost unexplored and has maiden natural beauty with very less footfalls. On clearer seasons Vangani is a star gazer's dream destination, since its skies give clear details of the visible cosmos, undisturbed by the glare of the bright city lights.

The risk however was that i had forgotten the trail to the waterfall where i had been about six years back with my sister's group and i had seen this place as absolutely rural. Nevertheless the three of us were willing to make this an exploratory trip with a promise to come back with a larger group after understanding the trails of this place.

Raj and i agreed to meet-up at 6 AM at Dadar station from where we would board a Karjat local. Kunal was scheduled to board the train at Thane.

The D-Day:

The dawn of Saturday gave me a shocking realization.. i had fallen asleep, the last night, trying to set the alarm in my cell phone only to be awakened by my buzzing body clock which woke me half hour late from schedule. I immediately messaged Raj. Quickly had my bath, stuffed things into my backpack and set off while trying to reach Raj on his cell. The cell was ringing and unanswered. It happened that Raj and i are such great friends that we got simultaneously late by about half hour and he was answering another "call" when he missed mine over his cell. He called me immediately after the other "call" relieved him and we met at Ghatkopar Station.

We were all set on a Karjat Fast. Kunal played kho-kho in the train from Thane and took two stations to get to the compartment Raj and i were in. During the journey over a packet of Lays we caught up with many things in our personal and professional life. I was getting tensed since till Badlapur the beautiful rural landscapes were far from visible. Finally the scene changed as though someone right clicked and changed the wallpaper theme from Urban Chaotica to Rural Exotica. The clouds over the skies grew darker and yes!!! it began to drizzle even before we could sing "Allah paani de".

As we disembarked from the almost hour long train sojourn, we could see the inviting hills at a distance which looked enticing wearing veils of grey cloudy chiffon covering their high held faces, like a beautiful damsels looking at strangers who have just come to her heavenly home.

Start with Wadi Paav byte (this ain't a typo)

When we came out of the station towards a direction shown by the newspaper vendor, we were invited by a couple of autorickshaw drivers asking "Dab-dabba? Dab-dabba?" (waterfall?). We were determined to walk down to the place which took us about half hour. All of us were famished since we had not troubled our Moms/wives/girlfriends for an early breakfast (i did not even try.. hehe. Mom was upset and had an argument with me the previous night, since i was going slightly away from her caring protection to an unknown place with known mischevious colleagues. But sweetheart Mom packed a full pack of chaklis and wafers and served me a very early tea).

As our stomachs started gurgling with hunger, we found a tiny stall with a man wearing a glove of besan (chickpea flour) paste, frying mashed potatoes coated with the same which was served pattied between . Hold on this ain't no continental dish, its our very own Batata Wada!! When we ordered for three we noticed that it was a winzipped, microminiaturized version of a Wada Pav. The vendor coyishly pointed to a school behind and said that the size was customized for the children there. Thats how we enjoyed our Wadi (not wada) Pau and strolled further.

Shower

A couple of directions from courteous villagers proved useful and soon we could see three waterfalls hidden in the greens of the hillock. We had a great bath there with the force of water pounding us to give a soothing massage. Raj almost got a Love bite from a native ( read crab in water). We climbed to the crest of the waterfall and lied down on the rocks over which there was a stream-lined flow of water. The sound of flowing water tickled our ears.

Trek

I had heard of a place called Nakhind which is supposed to be the starting of Sahyadris and western ghats. Surprisingly the locals did not know much of that place, however they showed us the way towards the hills where they knew that a tribal village existed. The hills looked pretty lonesome. The tar road came to an abrupt end and the trail started off into the paddy fields. At a distance we could see a waterfall which was much larger than where we bathed, much more hostile and unapproachable. The water from that was stopped and held by a manmade reservoir for irrigation. The flowing water was very clear. A farmer showed us the way going up the hill which was shrouded by wild shrubs and snakepits.

The trail started getting steeper and slippery, with Raj mastering the fine-art of mud-slipping on the way. Our heartbeats were as loud as the loudest sound there which came from the waterfall about a kilometer away. We had our own doubts about that place till we spotted footprints in the mud and an emptied biscuit wrapper that read "TIGER" in the middle of the jungle trail. Soon we could see the waterfall below us, and the reservoir dam was reduced to a tiny rectangle.

Spirits of the slopes (here is where the mystery starts)

Few paces ahead we saw a man dressed in white shirt and three boys. All of them carried sticks. The faint look on the man's face reminded me of stories of mysterious spirit wanderers of the forest, who sometimes serve as guardians and waypointers. However sometimes they are tempted to take other wanderers to their mysterious abodes and make them a part of their league.

We asked him what was lying ahead on the path "A village of tribals" he replied. We asked him from where they had come "Yaheen neeche se" ( from down there) he said pointing towards the way down. I asked "Vangani gaon?" . He nodded. My attention drew towards the far off peaks with a flat profile. The man said that those were natural caves, the trails to there were not as friendly as the foot-trail that we were treading, but we could easily scale it.

"We are going towards the same place and you may join us if you want... dont worry its an easy climb and I have also wandered on the ridge of the hill all over the place.. join us". I could not take my eyes off the peaks and the caves till Raj said that we couldn't since he had a cricket match the next day and wanted to play it (a)LIVE!

Village in the Clouds

After a forty five minute climb, with the other wanderers still around, we were pleased to hear chuckles in the approaching plateau which were soon claimed by their cute faces that came in sight. A whole set of energetic kids dotted a beautiful paddy terrace on top of the hill. It was one of the most beautiful villages i have ever seen, beyond my dreams. We followed the wanderers beyond the village and then watched them negotiate the slopes further till they disappeared and became one with the woods. Few seconds later we could see the man still inviting us, far away on the hill waving his staff at us. His voice could be heard clearly, We waved back and they were gone for good, perhaps to their abode without their guests.

We returned back to the village where the children were still shouting and waving at us. With permission from their parents i called them all for a photo session. Their scanty clothes and undernoursihment touched us deep, despite which they were full of happiness and content unlike the cry babies in the city. After the photos, i gave the eldest child a packet of wafers and watched them all smile. I told them to share it without fighting. I was deeply moved to see the kids line up in a disciplined fashion in front of their elder who would distribute the packet amongst them. The kids saw us till the beginning of the return path with their waving hands and chuckles, which soon merged with that of the waterfall. The descent was faster and soon we found ourselves waiting to get ourselves to the nearest source for lunch.

The walk in the clouds at the station unexplored proved to be very fulfilling to our senses and spirits. We resolved to visit the place again and move further towards the caves. As we returned, the sky cleared a bit and i could see another peak named Chanderi, which takes a two day trek to explore.

We reached the Station where Raj played music on his cell phone that sounded as loud as the announcement speaker. The crowd there was entertained for the next half hour when we waited for the Karjat-VT up Local. My gaze was still fixed at the far off peak till a girl on the platform was flattered thinking that i was watching her. Before she could pick up the wrong sign, I plugged my music player to my ears and waited for the red and yellow worm that turned into a train as it drew close to the station and took us home in its belly.

Hope another day at Vangani Returns soon with more friends sharing the privilege.

Sincerely,

Nagesh Pai

The Unforgiving Boss

At the Head office

Braving the heat, humidity, dust and grime of a typical midsummer Mumbai, I was relieved to enter the cool air-conditioned fortress “Om Sagar”, which served as the Head office to my ex-company. Quick as breeze, with a “daakiya daak laya rhythm” I flew across many cubicles of my colleagues who formed a Mexican wave of greets as I passed their dens. Quite a warm welcome that a sales person gets when he comes on a not so frequent visit to the head office, far away from the party time (noise to few) of the city sales office.

I was glad to see all of them like a child sliding his fingers over all the whites in a piano octave, like the green coconut palms waving past me in a train taking me to my long separated hometown, like the standing paddy turf bowing to gusts of pollinating breeze gently caressing them.

As I was swinging past with joy, I came across the cubicle of my friend who was a senior correspondent of one of the reputed publications of the company. His reportage was well regarded as a genuine source by lot many faithful readers of the magazine and of course by the highly placed marketing managers of leading IT companies regarding whose coverage in the magazine was very much sought after. As a good friend he used to provide me with tips from the industry which I used for generating sales. His reference was highly effective in breaking ice with new and otherwise unapproachable clients.

This time around the cheerful expression of his face was evicted by a gloomy frown with a tinge of frustration. He asked me “ Nagesh, can you spare a minute? Lets go to the café. Have something confidential to share”. “Sure” I replied hoping that it nothing more serious than the hot summer that kept him disturbed.

“I have decided to quit the company” began my colleague stating it upfront and bold. “Have you got a better offer elsewhere?” I asked with glee.. “No Nagesh, I am starting something on my own and wish to ask whether you want to be a part of it” He further explained what he was intending to do. I appreciated his enterprising decision but regretted my participation stating that I still had to gain experience and it was too early in my career to take such a bold step.. I was playing safe but after due calculations. He ended by saying..

”I am tired of working under someone. Its high time I do something on my own and earn for myself rather than generate profit for others” .

The last statement due to some reason started playing in my head again and again like a needle-stuck-gramaphone. While it was an enterprising move that my friend was trying to make, was he doing it out of passion or out of sheer frustration? Well maybe a fine combination of both.. But would he succeed or land up from the frying pan straight to the voracious flames? I wished him good luck and proceeded back to my paths with the extra luggage of my friends last statement…

“I am tired of working under someone”

I had known the editor, his boss to be a nice man, was he being a tyrant? Nah .. couldn’t be. Maybe saturation in his career and its worries had caught him imprisoned. The kit-baggage with these questions in my mind was waiting to be answered on another occasion which wasn’t far off.

Day with Anand (Answers)

It was another day o’ dust, sweat and grime minus the central AC of Om Sagar or my cozy cubicle at the Sales office. I was out on the punishing Andheri-kurla road where pedestrians, stray animals ( wild as well as tamed, some of them on wheels) and vehicles fight for their square feet share of the cratered tar + concrete, to jiggle and if possible wriggle their way through, while still remembering their destination by the time they take their next step into chaos.

Finally after overcoming every hurdle on the road and getting a thorough inhalation of vehicular exhaust, I reached Anand's office. Anand and his brother Gurpreet managed one of Mumbai's largest Web-hosting business and were faithful advertisers in my company's magazine from its day one issue. After cooling down with a glass of water with a cup of tea waiting to cool (Anand never lets his visitors go without serving them tea), our discussions started and led to me asking for more than usual business for a special issue which was due in the coming months. Anand was a good negotiator and startled me saying that he may not be present in the next issue which meant it would be his first break in 3 years!!! He then allowed me to release my witheld breath by saying that he will not be able to spend high for the next month, although he will be present in his usual quarter page advertisement.

In his self-made stature he remarked

"Nagesh, I may be having a great rapport with you, but my boss will not allow me to spend even a penny more".

I had known Anand as the proprietor of the company, now who was he reporting to off late?? How could he entrust his entire self made and established business to someone so easily?? Before I could think of disguising my question and ask him.. He read the query in my expression and said "You must be wondering who my boss is? Relax, I still own this business but I am Self-Employed.. I am employed... by whom?? Well you will be scared if I even tell you about what a tyrant he is."

Anand continued " Nagesh, you work for a nice company where if you dont meet your targets they dont ask for your head. Well my boss doesnt take any prisoners, He is the most ruthless superior you may ever see in your worst nightmares. Whenever my decisions lead to the right results i get rewarded. But when I fail, I dont get cajoled but I get the lashes straight till I bleed"

Anand's words kept me hooked as he disclosed

" My boss is My Business"

" People may think that i dont have anyone to report to. But like I said, My business is an absolutely unforgiving boss who never keeps accounts to be settled for later. Whenever I take the right path and succeed, He rewards me with profits a large part of which I feed him back. But sometimes even with genuine intentions if things go wrong and give unfavorable results, he punishes me with the worst ever punishment.. losses, some of which takes long enough to recover and endangers your sustenance. But despite all of this I have to report to him and Hence I am sorry Nagesh I cant spend more with you at this time when I am at a greater chance of being punished".

I smiled back at him with a genuine smile which may have perhaps raised surprise in his head, since salesmen can't don a genuine smile when refused. But what i had gotten from him was a big principle of business which perhaps no B School would teach me.

Flash-back Om Sagar.. I was wondering if my correspondent friend would quit the current job because he did not want to report to anyone, whether he would be able to cope up with the Ruthlessness of a new boss - Mr. My-own-Business. The only quality that would drive anyone to the brighter side of this boss was sheer passion, which was at its highest levels in Anand, which I prayed that my correspondent friend should have.

Passion for your goal is the only language that can help him negotiate with "the unforgiving boss". Pursuit of passion would surely see him shining in his new venture. But an act driven by escapism would surely land him in the boiling cauldrons of his unforgiving Boss - would -be.

Hats off to Anand who answered my predicament and gave me a lesson for lifetime. Sincere Prayers for my correspondent friend for his endeavors! And a big thanks to you for reading such a long blog :-)

Sincerely,

Nagesh

Announcement - Monsoon Trek

Agenda: Weekend walk in the woods

Day: Saturday and/or Sunday 9th and 10th July

Places under consideration: Vangani (Karjat route) or Neral - Matheran

Pirates on board till now: Kunal, Raj and Nagesh

About Vangani:

Vangani is known to be a trekker and a stargazer's paradise which leads to the starting ridges of the Sahyadris. I had been there long back for a one day trek to a nearby waterfall there. it was a good one hour walk from the station, but it was an easy one day trek.

There are two good places i have seen on the net which can approached from Vangani - Nakhind and Chander. Great maiden trekking treads to explore here which has not yet been vandalized by many footfalls. But the route will need to be understood from the villagers there.

In any case we must be prepared for an overnight in the rare occssion of things getting late. The woods can captivate you like the worlds best illusionist.


Option 2: Neral to matheran:

An offroad route from Neral to matheran will be nice and green during this time of the year. During my scouts hike in school, I recollect seeing the entire trail till Jumapatti station lined up with waterfalls.

This is a more known route, although we dont have a detailed road map, but it is well within civilization. Not sure whether this could be made into a one day trip.

Venturing into the unknown is the best adventure specially when we know that its not ferocious. Would be great if you can add your comments to this blog by clicking on the comments link below.

In both cases we will need to take the first train to Karjat

Add your inputs since we need to freeze on this soon. As of now Kunal Raj and i are sure to tread come what may.

Cheers!
Nagesh

Triple traits of a Woman

The Three Traits of a Woman - Uncle Gokhale speaks again

July 1998, Pen, Maharashtra

Arrival at Pen:

If you have read my last blog you would be conviced as to why i am in love with this place. The monsoon of 98 with a great training at IPCL Nagothane, and a great place to retreat after a long day at the plant, made those 10 days memorable. Apart from the occassion, what made the experience unforgettable was the magic of Pen - the house where we stayed and its owner Uncle Gokhale, who was the dad of my father's colleague. Many more trinklets and glistens formed the fine brocade of this magical place. It was also a different experience for a pampered and protected kid like me to stay away from the luxuries of a well provided, "automated" home.

Mounted on a rumbling n' wobbling four wheel box o' jagged tin ( God knows whether the fifth wheel existed in the drivers hands), which is locally called Maharashtra ST bus, we chug-chugged from Mumbai. After getting down we carefully followed the detailed directions noted by my dad and found ourselves far away from the bustling Goa highway into the quiet enclosure of old Pen where the trumpets of the great marathas can still be heard looking at some of the old "Waadas" and the old Shiva temple up the hillock.

Gokhale Uncle

We were welcomed by our elderly host, Mr. Gokhale, who assured us that his home was a peaceful and comfortable place to stay. We felt quite protected in his octogenerian company, despite feeling slightly insecure about the heavy rain falling on the age old mangalore tiled roof. He helped us quickly unwind. He told us that there had been few students of a nearby engineering college, who stayed as paying guest with him for a long time except for one who got bogged by drinking habit and had apparently put up some obscene posters in his rented room.

I could see Mr. Gokhale getting more talkative with growing enthusiasm which was a direct reflection of how lonely he had been staying all by himself long after the last paying guest had left him.... long after his wife passed away... long after he retired from the film editing lab where he glared at every frame of movie with his expert eyes, much before the burning light of the arclamps projected its image on an awaiting white screen. As he started talking more and more we could see the experiences he had been through and the many cycles of various seasons, some changing as per the nature's pattern and the others rather uncertain.

Uncle Gokhale pointed to the inner room and said " tum log yaahaan pe soneka.. chadar chatayi rakha hua hai.. laga ke so janeka Bhe**hod". The last word came naturally with an absolutely smooth allignment with the rest of the sentence. Kaushal my colleague who was a non-swearer till that point in life, wondered why uncle used a gaali for no mistake done!!! I was reminded of my Dad's description of few elders who use abuses like Ashtottara, which is a set of endearing names to God almighty.. I could feel the same music in his abuse, except that Kaushal took time to appreciate Hard rock music, which was clear from his question "Uncle ne humlog ko gaali kyon diya".

For the next two days Kaushal and mine sentences to each other ended with that word, while trying to imitate the smoothness in uncle's tone.. we could not :-). Saints as we were at that time when we never used any abuse, it was quite a try when no one else was hearing.

After our dinner, uncle said that there were many boys who stayed there but he never allowed a single girl to stay there.. I thought that with a small house as that it would be an obvious reason not to allow a girl to stay there. But before i could freeze my apprehensions, Mr. Gokhale vented out saying:

" Ek chatt ke neeche hazaar ladke reh sakte hain ... lekin do ladkiyaan kabhi nahin.. Kyonkin aurat ka teen gun hota hain" (teen and gun are hindi words not to be pronounced as in english, but what uncle meant was a more lethal weapon than a gun in english) .

I did not wonder too much as to why he was being so unfair to womankind because i myself was a MCP those days, much more than what i am today. Overcome with sleep after a sumptuous dinner and an equally filling long talk, I nodded at that statement thinking that it was one of the dialogues of his film and retired to bed in total darkness of not just the night, but in the darkness of my ignorance about where uncle Gokhale came from when he made that statement.

Next morning he spoke about his sons and their family, about the arrogance of his daughter-in-laws. One of whom had a love marriage with his younger son who was not even having a firm employment then. His older son's wife was arrogant and quite believed in staying separately. It was apparent by now that Uncle had seen the worst of women in them who were the reasons for him to stay away.. far away from urban civilizations in his own world where he experimented with herbs and ayurveda, where he carefully stored his collection of old film posters of those for which he did the editing, where he lived with the fond memories of his passionate and hard struggled past. He once again ended up saying "Aurat ka teen gun hota hain".. this time my eye brows went higher, the way it does when you see a catchy advertisement for the second time delving deeper into what it is trying to convey.

I heard this sentence a couple of more times before i finally blew the whistle asking "Uncle yeh teen gun hain kya??". He burst out laughing and asked "Tereko aurat ke teen gun nahin maloom? Kaisa aadmi hain tu bhi?" I told him that i honestly did not know about it. He then then repeated the phrase like a mantra.

"Aurat ka teen Gun hota hain"

Ater a pause he repeated and continued " Yeh teen gun ke wajah se saadaran si aurat Indira Gandhi ban jaati hai.. yeh teen gun se .....sirf yeh teen gun se woh apna raj chalati hai is duniya pe"

"Sabse Pehla gun: Shringaar" A lady expresses Shringaar through her beauty, through the way she carries herself, the way she decorates herself and makes her presence felt aloud. She grabs attention and then she robs unsuspecting sights and hearts.... she conquers. The charm of beautiful women like Madhubala was still present in the fading posters from uncle's collection of those movies he edited. Cleopatra unlike the hype was not known to be a particularly good looking woman, she had some odd features. What made her alluring was her sense of Shringaar. People go out of the way and ways fall apart when the lady in red calls for her shots, no matter however "strong hearted" a man may be. The way a woman carries herself can get her big tasks done by others without throwing her weight. I must confess here that i have been an unsuspecting victim to this weapon too and many among ye readers after raising your eyebrows will recollect a time when you have been vulnerable (men) or when you have used this deadly weapon (women) :-).... She dresses to kill and she rules.

"Doosra gun: Rodan" . I recollected Munshi Premchand's words which may be translated as "A woman's tears is the highest calorific fuel to keep masculine anger at its highest temperature". The toughest masculine carborandum-hearts have melted like butter on a frying pan at the first trickle of a feminine tear droplet. Tears may arrive as an indication of deep pain but have the immense capacity to mobilize action.

"Teesra Gun: Matsarya" .. Before uncle could tell me more about jealousy, i was reminded of the famous story of Goddess Parvati being jealous of her sister River Goddess Ganges residing in her husband, Lord Shiva's hair locks. She devised a fine conspiracy after that to ensure that Ganges was sent back to earth. However her Jealosy served a higher purpose of relieving the thirsts and sins of thousands of seekers in the downstream of Ganges. But I stood bewildered at the amount of action and change that Jealosy can drive.

Its amazing that these three forces are neatly concealed since they appear as signs of weakness or as means of getting attention. It is these notions that makes these forces unbeatable.

Mr. Gokhale's story was an eye-opener which showed clearly that men and women are not created equal, as women are more equipped with these three forces. As a matter of fact every woman is well armed to use these three forces for either rocking the cradle or ruling the world.

.... "yehi teen gunon se woh apna hukum chalati hai.... aur saadi si ladki Indira Gandhi ban Jaati hai"

The Little Green Woman

The Little Green Woman from Innerspace

Outset:

The monsoon of 1998 saw me excited upon a spectacular journey, a nice getaway that every tormented prisoner of Chaos City longs for. Thanks to my close college-mate, Sridhar, Kaushal and I got a berth for an exciting offsite training at the IPCL plant at a distant place, Nagothane. The three of us were quite a group

Accomodation at Pen:

While Sridhar had a direct bus from his outskirts residence leading to the plant location, Kaushal and I had to stay at a nearby town called "Pen" ( n pronounced with the stronger syllable), which is famous for its plaster sculptors who supply the whole world with plaster statues of Lord Ganesh. Thanks to my father's colleague, we got ourselves an accomodation in the innermost precincts of Pen, which was a stronghold of Maratha warriors of yore, whose presence could still be felt through the family temples and the large residences named "Waadas" prefixed with the family names (eg. Daataarwaada). The Waadas and the fragrance of the place were frozen in time ever since the last Maratha warrior raised his war cry, save the falling plaster and structural deterioration of the buildings, inspite of which the structures stood tall and sturdy.

The clouds and the left-overs of the sunshine that it spared through, ensured that the grays matched with that of the old town.

When we asked for the residence of Mr. Gokhale, our host, we were pointed to an old, ramshackle tumbledowned home. It was made of mud with a roof of burnt-red Mangalore tiles. The central portion of the structure had already given way, succumbimg to the forces of nature and neglect. We came to know later that this demolished part of the house partitioned the two occupant families of the house like a no-man's land between conflicting countries. The courtyard was a fine red paste of mud, the blend of which told us aloud that the place was well rain-fed. The dripping droplets from the trees above did its bit to keep the dampness of the place alive, despite the strong showers having left the place about an hour back.

Our host was very courteous well in his eighties, and had lots of stories to tell us about ayurveda and the silver screens of yest years where he served as a technical person. The posters of the old movies which he proudly showed with his name in the fineprint, with the innocence of a child showing his high grades, were all faded. But in the glimmer of his faint eyes, the colours of Madhubala's costumes showed with its full lustre, just like it did on the silver screen on one of the first eastman colour movies that he edited.

After his wife's demise, Mr. Gokhale stayed all alone by himself in this house but for a companion whom he called "the Laxmi" of the home. I discovered this "Laxmi" later, a small mole rat, when she was having her share of the khichdi that I cooked with chef Kaushal's directions, thankfully she did that after we were done with our share. She was harmless as Uncle Gokhale had told us, she came uninvited and left at her own will, but paid regular visits. The house was lit by three bulbs, one flickering tubelight and had bare minimum possessions like a primus original kerosene stove and a couple of vessels for cooking and heating bath water. We were about to crib for a fan before the onset of the night that blew a cold breeze with torrential rains over the place. We sought refuge under our blankets.

The Dark Damp Night.

At the end of the first long day Kaushal and I were done with our dinner and so was "Laxmi". We were also done washing the utensils and the clothes which took over two days and nights to dry in the damp weather. The one's which dried anyways became wet when we wore it and set off in the windy rains.

The last lamp in the house was finally switched off and Kaushal immediately dropped asleep. While I somehow made it to the bed in the pitch dark, I was lost in the darkness even after settling in the bed. I could feel just my eyelids flickering with not a pixel illuminated on my retina to prove that I still had the ability to see. Goodness!! had i turned blind!!?? or do such dark places actually exist on earth!!?? My eye lids continued to blink with an experience of total blindness less the sixth sense of a blind man.

The next morning, Mr. Gokhale gave us a small surprise and said that he is leaving for Mumbai to collect his pension and the house would remain in our charge. He asked us to religiously light a lamp or an agarbatti in the place near the kitchen where he had the photographs of few Gods and his departed grandmother who had taught him ayurveda. He gave us some medicines to take care of ourselves, and a mysterious powder which was supposed to have the effect of sanjivini.. the elixir of life kind of drug. I later on found that the same medicine had cured my tonsils without operation, long back when Mr. Gokhale's son had sent me during my troubled days.

The Damp night Returns.. She Came with her torch.

The night repeated with her mysterious darkness, tranquilizing Kaushal almost as fast as the lights went off. Once again I marvelled at the immense darkness of the place till I had the encounter which was waiting few moments ahead.

Just when my eyelids were almost done with their routine flicker and were about to close like the falling curtains of a concluded opera show, they swung wide open to a spectacle! This time they did not flicker...my eyelids were held wide open.... for the entire room was filled with a green haze that was bright enough to light every detail of the room, just like the zero watt bulb of the room in the brown-out low voltage.

For the first few minutes I could not trace the source of the light, until a tiny green lantern came flying across the room and hovered for a brief instant over my head with her full lustre in which i could now see my own nose. She proved to me that i did not turn blind after the lights went out and that my faculties of vision still remained active. I realized that the room and I were haunted, as much as I was enchanted, by this glow-worm who had just graduated to become a firefly. Her tail had the faint green steady light which was unlikely of the bright strobelight flashes of the fully grown firefly. She settled on the wall like the night lamp on duty, while her green glow into sweet slumber.

I was beginning to believe that it was a dream until the next night she returned to redeem me from the blinding darkness of the night, giving me company till I fell asleep, giving me rays of green hope even under the grey clad skies and the burnt mangalore tiled roof.

The night after, she never came, but by then my heart was full of her beauty and lustre and I was pretty much convinced that it was the darkness of the night .... nay not loss of sight which defined the black canvas on which my imagination drew green images.

Sincerely..

Nagesh Pai