Right from the time I exited the самолёт (समल्योत = aircraft) to the time I arrived home (90 minutes), I must have received 12 Thankyou’s and 5 Sorry’s, approximately. Quickly I panicked to restore my North American ‘polite’ avatar which I had, after intensely painful efforts, buried for over 3 months. This avatar had a nasty habit of sneaking up in unexpected places when I was in India or even Russia – leading to embarrassing situations – usually causing me to apologise for being ‘polite’ in the American way, which again was met with glares and a sympathetic ‘oh, the poor boy is Americanized’ look.

I was walking in the very crowded Moscow metro when the tip of my wrist brushed against the tip of a woman’s handbag who whizzed ahead of me. Like any normal person in Toronto would, I thought she was rude for not apologising to me but nevertheless I said by reflex, “I’m sorry, извиненте!” (इझविनीच)
The huge lady turned around, stopped and giving me a look said, “что?” (श्तो = what?)
I laughed inside my head, said “ничего” (निचीवो = nothing) to her and left.

I spent many hours explaining to both, Americans and Indians, what the American ‘polite’ manners mean. The Americans don’t understand why Indians never seem to thank or apologise (one survey even put Mumbai as least polite city in the world – imagine!) and the Indians don’t understand why critical words like Sorry and Thankyou are treated like commodity and used hundred times a day. Well, cultural differences are so beautiful and I discovered that in spite of living in India for first 25 years of my life, I could not, after just 2 years in Canada, switch to a different culture in an instant. Predictably, it will take me some time to get used to thanking and apologising hundred times a day here too.

Moscow from the sky

My Аэрофлот (ऐरोफ्लोट Aeroflot) flight flew from Mumbai to Moscow, change plane, Moscow to Toronto. Aeroflot served me BEEF in my Hindu meal (will make a post with pictures on my travel blog), they are known to flatly refuse to serve plain Water (which is what Indians drink), served a drink called “chai” which they think is tea (well it is Russian tea), their flight was 4 (FOUR) hours late and their seats are designed for discomfort. Yet, I flew them because I had to go to Moscow and the ticket cost was too good to be true. I discovered that the airhostess had a bias against, well, Russians and non-Russian-looking-but-Russian-speaking people like me on one side compared to other non-Russian-looking-and-no-Russian-speaking people on the other. boooo. Nevertheless I found this international discrimination less insulting than what happens in Mumbai between different ethnic groups ironically belonging to the same country…

As the flight landed, I was deeply touched to see the passengers clap as a ‘thank you’ to the pilot.
“Nyet nyet” my neighbor said wisely, “They clap to thank God that the plane has finally landed. It’s Aeroflot, Russian airline!”

View from my window

I was finally glad to be home. Toronto looks beautiful, wrapped in a blanket of snow and occasionally glittering with a scarlet glow from the rays of the sun. I tried to sleep, but I was still tuned to IST. Still I tried to get into my bed and catch some sleep something that was difficult to get without the familiar barking of street dogs…

Since it’s new year’s eve, I can talk about myself..

Time doesn’t stop, right?. I vividly remember welcoming 2008 in a pub in Israel paying $10 cover and welcoming 2007 serving food at a party in Toronto earning $15 an hour. But the best things in life cannot be bought or sold. This year I am going to spend time with my family, at home. Aai made traditional Puran Polis and ours is probably the only family having this delightful food on a ‘western’ new year’s eve.. hehehh…

The Thatte’s. LtoR: Shrikant, Prachi, Manju, Priyank. At Chamundi Hills, Mysore, December 2008.

So What did you do in 2008? Most bloggers will blog about this, and I will too. For me, this was a very educative and travel-filled year. I visited 7 countries: Israel, Canada, USA, Peru, Russia, India and Bhutan (in that order) and I was never so close to my target of traveling to 11 countries by 2011. I also studied, worked, played Sitar, biked and did the usual interesting stuff.

You might know that I was officially homeless for past 4 months (although I lived in so many homes), so I am excited to go back and resume everything in Toronto. There is going to be lots of snow around and I am itching to skate on ice and wear layers of jackets that make me look like a young Sumo fighter.

Going out on 31^st December is difficult, noisy, expensive and mostly frustrating. Also, it’s just another day in the calendar, no? I say this as I deal with a bunch of emails and text messages sent in an impersonal style.

I depart tomorrow, Mumbai to Toronto stopping en-route at Moscow. Do visit my Travel Blog since all travel stuff will be written there.

Happy 2009 to whoever is reading this. And may all your wishes come true.
cheers,
Priyank

This incident goes back to December 18, 2003 at 03:15. The picture above shows the windows of my room (my parents place in Mumbai.)

My bed is about 3 meters away from the window. I left windows open at night but there was a window grill that kept us safe (or so we thought.) I’m a light sleeper, and wake up even if a needle drops! That night, some strange sounds ruffled my sleep. There are many sounds at night and I dismissed this disturbance too. But my eyes opened for a split second, and I glanced at the window.

The sight gave me the shock of my life.

The metal grill on the window had disappeared! The window looked like a big hole in the wall.

[Now let me explain. The windows are fitted with metal grills that have 3 screws fastened into the wooden frame on two holding sides. It is easy to unscrew them, remove the grill and enter the house. I've done this myself once when I forgot the keys. And now someone had done just that!]

So, I heard some noises, woke up in the middle of the night, saw my window opened and found a stranger next to my bed. What the heck was going on?

The intruder peered over my mosquito curtain (मच्छरदाणी) to see if I was awake. I froze. I shut my eyes so hard that they almost came out from the other side of my head. Have you heard the phrase “..was so scared, could hear his heart beat” or “…was so shocked that he couldn’t speak”? Ha! I experienced it! The intruder then scanned my desk, but found only thick volumes of Coulson & Richardson’s Chemical Engineering, which were probably the most expensive items in our house, but he didn’t know. He then went to the bedroom, where mom was asleep, via living room. I heard a familiar noise of the cupboard being opened.

After I told my heart to stop pounding and stop getting scared over an intruder, I started thinking (still lying in bed.) I had seen a wooden stick lying around and I got up and grabbed it. Probably useless since I couldn’t physically challenge that guy who was armed with god knows what. …He peered over the mosquito curtain to see if I was awake. I froze. I shut my eyes so hard that they almost came out from the other side of my hea…I went to the living room and opened the door of our apartment. It’s noiseless, and I can be quiet as a cat. I rang the neighbors’ doorbell. The lady (काकू) yelled from inside – “Who the hell is at the door at this hour?” (अीतक्या रात्री-अपरात्री कोण अालंय?) If I spoke, the thief would hear. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t get help. So I said, “its Priyank.”

thudd… thump… I heard noises from the bedroom, the thief probably heard me. Now I knew he would emerge from my parent’s bedroom, enter the living room, go to my room and escape from the window. Armed with a stick, I came back into the living room too. I saw him. Something mysterious got over me then. I screamed and hit him. With a force I never experienced ever, I hit his forearm.

The stick broke into two, the thief let out a frightening painful cry, but still somehow escaped, empty handed.

By now, mom woke up, the neighbors arrived, and then the usual stuff…

: : :
Last night I casually glanced at the window and this whole incident flashed in front of my eyes. Pretty interesting, huh!

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That reminded me of a story.

::::

When you are 13 or 14 years old, you think that ‘nagging you’ is the sole purpose of your parents, isn’t it?

On one such day, years ago, I was getting ready for school and it was already late. I was wearing my socks carelessly (as usual):

Dad (exclaimed): अरे जरा लक्ष दे!     Hey, pay some attention!
Me (irritated): काय झालं?     What’s wrong? – (To myself: ‘He is so annoying.’)
Dad: मोजे उल्टे घालतोएस     You are wearing your socks inside out. – (I looked. Indeed the stitches were on the outside.)
Me (dismissively): जाऊ दे ना, कोण बघतय!     Oh forget it, no one’s gonna notice anyway!
…
Dad: कुणी कशाला बघितलं पाहिजे, तु स्वतः नाही बघणार का?     Why bother about anyone else noticing, won’t YOU notice it yourself?

Translation obviously not strong enough.

At that time I must have dismissed it as yet another ‘dad-talk.’ But in no time I learnt the immense value of this statement. I learnt the importance of setting high self standards regardless of other people’s low expectations. Doing things not to impress others, but to impress myself. I can write a long essay on this, but hey that’s not the intent of this post. So, picking up the cue ‘focus on other people, not on yourself’ from Randy Pausch’s ‘Last Lecture’, I simply wanted to say:

“Happy Birthday Dad!”
wait, that’s not all,
“Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad ”

Just in case you wondered who the awesomemost parents in the world were.

“Oh …, I guess Fall is really here…!,” both of us exclaimed as I took the leaf off him and blew it away. It flew again for some distance and fell on the ground after what seemed like a brief but thoroughly enjoyable flight.

Red Maple Leaf

We looked at the landscape around and indeed it was covered with random yellow, red, golden leaves. Dominated by maple leaves but filled with such a diverse variety of leaves, so many shapes and sizes and colors, yet living together and yielding to the weather as a cohort. It seems so natural for nature to co-exist.

The green trees look colorfully dressed, like a forest on fire – yellow, golden, red, but it doesn’t matter. In a few weeks all of them will disappear leaving nothing but naked branches at the mercy of cold winds and snow.

So many things changed around me in last few weeks but I was too busy to notice.

::::

I had a strange dream last night. It was in the middle of nowhere. I was digging a trench. It was very deep. I spent hours and days digging this gigantic hole in the ground. To give you an idea of how deep the ditch was, imagine four elephants stacked on top of each other. The fourth one could barely reach the surface. Yes it was that deep and yes I was measuring the depth using elephants even in my dream (how geeky!)

I don’t know why I was digging.

As soon as the digging was over, I started filling it up. With bricks. Layer after layer arranged in a neat manner. I was building prototype of a city. So I started making little roads, houses, palaces, temples, gardens etc. In no time I created a model of a well planned city inside the big ditch. Being inside the earth, it was secret and sortof protected. The city looked very systematic and very beautiful, just the way I liked it – I loved my work.

No sooner had I finished admiring the work than I started throwing big stones on top of my beloved city from the surface above. One by one the buildings crashed, arches collapsed and gardens were filled with rubble. In no time, I had completely destroyed my entire city. For some reason, I thought that that was the natural thing to do.

Then I sat there, crying over the loss of my creation. (To clarify: I was crying over the destroyed city and not because I was the one who destroyed it.)

And then I woke up.

::::

A hundred more leaves must have fallen and mixed with the earth as I finish typing this post I have several useful interpretations of this dream, but if you do too, I would gladly welcome any insights.

cheers,
Priyank.

I get that question sometimes and it always used to bother me. But I don’t get annoyed anymore. Instead, I quote the following story:

::::

A photographer was invited to a dinner and he took along some photographs to show the hostess. She looked at the photos and commented, “These are very good! You must have a good camera!“

He didn’t make any comment at that time, but as he was leaving to go home he said, “That was a really delicious meal. You must have some very good pots!“

::::

Lance Armstrong, in his book It’s Not About the Bike, wrote a whole page describing some neat features of his cutting-edge bike. That description alone would make a bike enthusiast like me quiver. But he concluded it saying (paraphrased) – “But at the end, it’s not about the bike!“


::::

I worked for 3 years as a project planner. People’s standard question was: “Do you need to know Primavera and Microsoft Projects to become a planner?” (those are the two leading project management software.) I wish I could say “Yes”. A planner, like Isaac Asimov’s Hari Seldon, accumulates current data, examines macro/micro factors and uses historical behavior to predict the future. I wish it was as simple as clicking some “Tools > Plan Now!” button.

::::

I thought of the following people while I was composing this post. They (I think) get lots of comments about their ‘art’. Care to tell me:

° Nita, Prax, Bob – If online research is one mouse click away, why don’t we find blogs that are comprehensively researched as yours? Do you think that research is an art and online resources are mere tools? Taking it one step further, how much do you think have certain tools helped you become a journalist, stock market specialist and an astrophysicist respectively?
° Rambodoc – How much of today’s medical marvel is attributed to the surgeon’s instruments? (I desisted from using the word ‘tool’ – some readily available fodder for your twists that would occur anyway )
° Shantanu – About software tools and Dilbert’s talent! You are also welcome to add a story about chefs and foods!

::::

For a long time, I thought that I needed a brand new Sitar from Kolkata and only then I could play some awesome music. Fortunately, few months back I met some guru who plays the Sarod. He picked up my Sitar and played something beautiful casually.
“Wow! I didn’t know you played the Sitar too!” I said.
“No, ofcourse I don’t…. But I know the basics of music! “

I regret not meeting him before. But hey, its never too late


::::

To end this non-travel post, I leave you with a quote from J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

If you are a wizard you will be able to channel your magic through almost any instrument. The best results, however, must always come where there is a strongest affinity between wizard and wand… An initial attraction, and then a mutual quest for experience, the wand learning from the wizard, the wizard from the wand.

::::
Question to the reader: I think that it doesn’t really matter what tool you choose to express your talent. If you are not the right person (by birth or by training), the tool won’t make you one. What do you think? Any stories?

Okay, first, stop ogling at my sexy legs.

I don’t fancy myself lying on the rail tracks on my birthday, but these were abandoned ones, in the Niagara Peninsula, somewhere near Crystal Beach, about 150 km from hometown Toronto and as you can probably see, I was cycling. Phew! After 27 years I can finally manage writing a long and almost meaningful sentence in a foreign language.

I promise to tell you what I was upto if you don’t ask ‘that’ question.

How OLD are you Puku?
aargh…. 27. It’s written on my ‘About me’ page.

What did you do on your birthday?
Biked. Biked a lot. On the bike trails, on the prohibited freeway, on the train, on the bus, from Lake Erie to Niagara Falls to Lake Ontario. In Canada and USA. Restaurants and bars, a drink here a hug there. The usual stuff that old people do, y’know.

What are your birthday resolution(s)?
Still making one.

ugh, when was your birthday?
August fifth according to the Gregorian Calendar, August seventh (i.e. Sixth day of new moon in the holy month of Shravan) according to Hindu Calendar
(I know, I am comprehensive and smart ass)

I’m back to the blogging world after a healthy hiatus. Don’t miss this million dollar opportunity to wish me Happy Birthday, sing along and bring me presents. Thank you very much.

Presenting…
[drums][more drums]
!Tada!
A brand new look of my website. [yay!]
Ok I know, unless you are a first time visitor, that you have probably guessed it already. This is what I call “Version 4.8″ and I hope you like it.

Oh by the way, I also got a MacBook, you know, an Apple Laptop. I got up on Wednesday morning and while biking to work I was mulling over how nothing exciting has happened in the last 2 days. So I decided to make it exciting and what else could be more exciting than spending money on a cute little thing? Clearly, I sound quite excited, but I definitely am excited, and will be until I get the credit card bill. Apple gave away an iPod Touch free with this purchase, so I have more toys to play with. This coincides with the abrupt demise of my older laptop and confirms my final departure from the world of Windows OS. Exciting!

Anyway, back to the website. Thanks everyone who gave me elaborate feedback on how bad the previous version sucked. I’ll dedicate my next glass of Cranberry juice to you (since I gave up on beer). Cheers!

So, does something look different here? Is it better to navigate? Faster? What do you think? Notice a bug? Comments and criticism welcome (but please don’t say something obvious like – “wow the new look is nice!”, I know that already..;) (talk about smartassedness).) I will be tweaking for the next few days.

I had a Sitar gig last night and by the time it ended, it was past midnight and it was also raining. I stood outside the Queen subway station, waiting for the streetcar (tram) for almost 20 minutes, not quite enjoying the drizzle. My Sitar was tucked away safely under some large window frame.

3 moderately drunk white boys arrived at the streetcar stop and looked curiously at my Sitar bag. It was well past midnight on Friday, so I wasn’t surprised at all.

“Hey, what is that?”
“Its a Sitar”, I said non-enthusiastically. I get this question often.
“Woooowh! I never thought I would see a Sitar for real!”

And then they spent next 5 minutes asking me questions about the instrument. I was surprised that they knew so much already. I promised to show them how it looked like once we were in the streetcar.

“You must play it too”, he said
“HUH ??”, sounded like a crazy idea to me.
“Yea man, and I will pass my hat around. You can get your bus money back!” (he took off his hat to show me how)

So we got into the streetcar, full of sweet party people (drunk people are usually fun). The guys couldn’t wait to see how a sitar looked and they oohed and aahed when i took it out of the bag. Most of what I played wasn’t legible since it was quite noisy around but I think they liked it anyway. After I was done, there was some clapping and the guy took his hat off and passed it around.

Nobody put any money in it, haha.

The guy was disappointed more than me. I guess he didn’t want me to be a musician who doesn’t get tips after he plays. Then the sweetest thing happened. His buddy put in a dollar. And they passed the hat to me.

“Here!, Great show!”

And folks, that’s how I earned my first dollar on the street playing music.

I have fond memories of the grass forest on the outskirts of my little suburban town (Dombivli). Many evenings were spent there – playing amidst itchy vegetation, mud, dirt, all varieties of insects, bugs and other yucky stuff. I’ll write about my adventures with bugs, earthworms, frogs, wild flowers and such other amazing creations of nature in some other post because this post is dedicated to the one and only चतुर (Chatur, meaning ‘clever’).

Chatur

Photo: Dhanashri Avalaskar

Chatur is called Dragonfly in English. Wikipedia says this: “Dragonflies typically eat mosquitoes, midges, and other small insects like flies, bees, and butterflies. They are therefore valued as predators, since they help control populations of harmful insects. Dragonflies do not normally bite or sting humans, though they will bite in order to escape, if grasped by the abdomen.”

The sport
One of our favorite ‘sports’ during monsoon was catching the Chatur. We usually caught the chatur and released it after displaying our conquest to mates. It was the coolest thing to do and scores were discussed next day at school. Catching a chatur is an art that requires an amazing combination of patience, precision, alertness and timing. A chatur will typically hover over a blade of grass for barely a second and then move on to the next. At the same time the chatur is quite sensitive to any motion in the surroundings, so an extraordinary amount of patience and steadiness is required while approaching it.

There are two ways to catch a chatur. The most common method is to grab the end of the chatur‘s long and tiny tail. The tail is used as a rudder so the chatur vibrates and turns it unexpectedly. After studying these movements for a while it becomes easy to read patterns. The other method – the one that I strongly disapprove – is to catch the chatur by its wings. I think this method is easy but barbaric because it could potentially break the little guy’s wings, render them useless and thus lead to the chatur‘s death. As a rule, we never could let any chatur die.

The Blue Chatur
On one such evening I was chasing a particular chatur when my attention was distracted by something blue and brilliant, fluttering inches away from my hand. It was possibly the most beautiful chatur I had seen lately. I left my current perusal and went after this little blue guy instead. After a bit of chasing I finally caught my prize!

I was holding the blue chatur‘s tail between my thumb and index finger while placing it gently on the palm of my other hand. It made some attempts in vain to flutter away. My friends gathered around excitedly and I narrated them a long (and probably fake) tale about how I caught it.

I was going to violate an unwritten rule of the grass forest –

“मी घरी घेउन जाणार आणि ह्याला पाळणार” (I will take it home and keep it as a pet), I announced.

My buddies didn’t care. In fact, they agreed because suddenly it was a treasured possession of our gang and it would be good to display the blue chatur at school tomorrow. The other gang at school has been bragging about their catch in some other secret grass forest lately and we had to beat them.

Suggestions poured in about how to keep the chatur safe overnight. I could either tie its tail to a string and fasten it to a window railing or put it in a box. I chose to put it in a large match box since I thought that was less brutal. Then I inserted a twig of tender grass for the insect’s dinner (I didn’t know that it was a non-vegetarian). Content with the hospitality, I put the box away in my school bag and went to bed looking forward eagerly to the next day. I was soooo excited about my new pet that I woke up in the middle of the night to check if it was doing okay. It was, I loved my new pet!

I rushed to the school after checking that the chatur was still safe inside the box. I and my buddies decided to talk this thing up and create suspense among the classmates before we showed them the real thing. The plan was working well so far – everyone in the class was looking forward to seeing the mysterious blue dragon fly. Dude this was going to be awesome!!

No sooner than the recess bell rang, everyone gathered around me. Very ceremoniously and taking extra extra extra care I started opening the box gently while telling everyone how it was impossible to catch this rare species, how it bit me, blah blah (ah, I am was such a drama queen). I finally opened the box… viola!!

There were screams of excitement from my peers! Lots of wow’s, compliments and admiration. My buddies were proud of ‘our’ catch but…

….but I was choking; I felt like someone ripped my heart out of my body and there was just a void there. My eyes were wet and I started shivering…

My beautiful new pet was lying in the box,..
Lifeless.

And that was the last time I caught a चतुर.