The U-turn

 

NOTE: NO PHOTOS IN THIS BLOG; ALL PICTURES ARE ADVERTISEMENTS.

Genre - Fiction

Sub-genre - Humour

Length of blog - 2600 words

“Let’s get this pardy started”, there was the thick US accent again.

Xrini heard his nemesis better this time. It was clear as daylight – the US foreign accent. They were already dancing, and the party had started at seven. He saw Sofia laugh at the accent. This dark-skinned Indian guy was a U.S.A return and he was hitting on Sofia, the same girl Xrini was eyeing.

“Don’t drink too much”, Shane had advised Xrini as they had entered the club, “If you stick around, you might get lucky tonight”

The evening had started as D’s birthday celebration and after the bill was paid - way past closing time - the party shifted to another place for the afterparty. And the girl Xrini was interested in, was there too. In fact, Xrini was pretty sure, it was her place which they had landed at.

“Is this her place?”, Xrini pointed out Sofia from the bunch of girls that trotted in and out of one of the rooms.

He refused to believe it was Sofia’s place. He wondered how she could afford to stay in Bandra – one of the most expensive places in Bombay. Maybe she did not stay alone, maybe she had roomies, or maybe her folks were away for the weekend.

“Is this your room?”, he asked one of the girls as she walked past.

“Nah this is Sofia’s”, she said and ducked into the room.

Xrini looked around, all the guys seemed to be waiting for something to happen. Xrini knocked on the door lightly. A head popped out.

“Hey, we are all waiting out here, would you’ll care to join us”, he was speaking above the head, to make sure his voice entered the room.

He trotted to Shane and said, “A tad louder music would help.”

Slowly but steadily, they had started grooving as a group.

“So how do you afford to stay alone here”, Xrini tried to make conversation with Sofia.

They had brushed together while dancing.

Sofia’s shoulders had come up; as if in a dance move. And hands raised upwards she moved away. Two to three times of trying to catch her eye again, did not work. Xrini stepped away towards his whisky glass.

He saw the US return guy shoulder his way towards Sofia. He saw her move away – rolling her eyes. Xrini smiled to himself. Xrini then tried to dance towards her but did not get close. She seemed to be in the centre surrounded by her girlies and then the handful of guys dancing around them; to woo them girls. At one point, he got close to within speaking distance and then his competitor seemed to reach her side before him.

A number ended; someone turned on the kitchen light for snacks. Sofia went into the kitchen, the US-return guy followed. When Sofia returned to the group, the music had softened. She said something to her girl gang with a downwards flick of the wrist, the girls giggled. Xrini had noticed it too - the US-guy’s swing of his wrists - like a gay person.

“Hey, I was speaking to you back there”, the dark-skinned guy spoke with a thick US-accent. But his voice sounded a very thin. The short moustache, dark-skin, thin voice, US-accent and the coordinated twitch in the wrist did make him look a bit gay.

Sofia ducked into her girl-gang and continued to dance.

“So how do you afford to stay alone, I was asking earlier”, Xrini said, as soon as she passed him on the way to the kitchen.

He was right in his assumption that the hostess would be interested in anyone who would enter her kitchen and had strategically placed himself.

“Who told you that I am single?”, she turned and started to walk towards D who was perched with a couple of guys smoking at the window and continued, “Have you been telling people about my breakup?”

D waved her off. Xrini who had followed her, heard his question which was wrongly interpreted, stepped in, “I meant, alone… as in live alone in Bandra.”

The swaying US-return guy ducked and did a jig in front of Sofia. She continued to stare at D then turned around and started to walk into kitchen.

Xrini tried to continue the conversation as she brushed passed him, “Bandra being expensive, my POV. But then again relationships do breakup based on miscommunications. Hope your breakup was coz of the same reason, you’ll can patch it up tomorrow.”

She looked at Xrini and gave a timid smile. Again, the US-return guy who had raced in front of her, tried to guide Sofia towards the dance group.

“Well, I am a beautician”, Sofia turned towards Xrini avoiding the dancing US-return guy but continued to stare at his antics.

“What’s his problem?” Xrini said.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Xrini was now addressing the US-return next to Sofia.

He said something which was lost in the music and his sing-song voice.

“Look here, you seem to be thinking that you are impressing these girls, but let me tell you…”, Xrini bent towards the US-return guy and continued in his ear, “…they are laughing at your gay demeanour.”

The guy took a step back, lost a little interest as he processed what he had heard. Then turned towards group in the centre of the room and carried on dancing, with a lesser zest though.

              “So, you are a faygala”, Xrini said turning towards Sofia.

              “Oh! What’s that?”, Sofia said.

              “You haven’t seen the movie, ‘You don’t mess with the Zohan’?”, Xrini said.

              “No time ya”, Sofia said.

              “How about catching a movie tomorrow evening”, Xrini said.

              “Oh, I dunno, I’m busy. I’m always busy doing something. This house would need cleaning. I guess it’s the toll of trying to manage everything alone”, she said that and trailed off into the kitchen.

              A few more drinks and Shane stepped up, “Let’s make a move.”

Soon the party started to breakup and a few goodbyes later, three of them started towards the metro station.

“National College Metro station”, the fresh placard said.

The DN Nagar metro was recently joined to Mankhurd via BKC. Shane and his girlfriend would alight at Kurla, while Xrini, at Chembur. Lucy booked the tickets on the Metro-One app.

“Good news, I guess”, Lucy said.

“What do you mean?” Xrini said.

“You and Sofia, hmm”, Lucy smiled and continued, “You both were talking pretty seriously. No smiles were involved.”

“Dunno, I asked her for a movie”, Xrini continued, “She just had a breakup, so everything is grey”

“Next stop Bandra. Alight here for Western railway”, the announcement was made by the metro train.

“These Bandra girls are fast”, Shane said.

“I was thinking of staying over and help with the cleaning”, Xrini said.

“Yeh, but here you are going home with us”, Shane said.

“But that would be too soon. I gave her my number and made my intentions clear”, Xrini said.

“Hmmp”, Shane grunted.

“I don’t want a one-nighter, I am in for the long run – she would’ve got that by my words and actions”, Xrini said.

“Wow, so very gentlemanly”, Lucy said.

She fluttered her eyes at Xrini and laughed. And then as if exhausted by the gesture, landed her head on Shane’s shoulder.

“And everyone out there knows she is single”, Shane said.

“Next stop MMRDA”, the speaker blared.

“She has my number”, Xrini said.

“You think D is jumping her right now?” Shane said and smiled at Xrini.

“And who was that US-return guy”, Xrini said.

“He was a cousin of one of the girlies at the party”, Lucy continued, “What a funny accent he had.”

“It was his pansy voice that made the authentic US-accent sound gay”, Shane said.

“Next stop BKC, alight here for Aqua-line”, the speaker said.

“You know she’s a hairdresser, that how she can afford to stay there”, Xrini said after a long silence.

“And did you tell her what you do?” Lucy was all in to get the full scoop.

“Well, I told her I was a Labour worker and that I would like to celebrate my Labour Day holiday on Monday with her”, Xrini said.

“Bah! You work in IT, how come you are a Labour Worker”, Shane said.

Shane was Xrini’s best friend and knew almost everything about him. Shane stayed in Thane near D’s place. D had joined the company where Xrini worked a month ago. Since, Xrini had met D at his place in Thane a couple of times, he was invited last night for D’s birthday-bash – club hopping in Bandra.

“Go to your phone”, Xrini said.

Shane smiled but did not oblige. Lucy, who was on the phone looked up.

“On your older computers – on the monitor’s right hand bottom corner you would’ve seen two small blinking computers…”, Xrini said.

“Right, we have been hearing this dialogue umpteen times”, Shane said.

“Well then, my point being, the network does depend on a physical cable, hence the Labour Law applicability of manual work done. Unlike app coders, who do not know where in the ‘Cloud’ they are working. Hence, IT-Network guys should be allowed to be part of Labour law practises”, Xrini said.

“And what to do you mean by that – ‘labour law practises’?”, Shane said.

“Dunno much, but let’s start with a public holiday declared on 1^st May – tell me in today’s day and age, who gets that week-off? 40 percent of people in the world, get the holiday - excluding Indians. Imagine the world’s 40 percent excluding the most populous country”, Xrini continued, “Coz here in Maharashtra, they celebrate it as Maharashtra Day and the rest of India has lost it in translation”.

“In the US they have a separate day – ‘Labor Day’.” He made air-quotes with two fingers as Xrini ended his rant.

“If you give this kinda jazz, Sofia will run away from you”, Lucy said.

All laughed. The silence was broken by the announcement, “Next station Kurla Terminal. Alight here for Central Railway. Alight here for Harbour Railway”

“Ok we get off here. Be alert, your stop is in three stops away”, Shane said.

As they were getting off, Shane started swaying his hips in a Mr. Bean type of way, “Wonder whether D is getting his birthday gift from Sofia right now.”

Xrini gave a fake smile through the closed glass doors of the Metro. He imagined D’s huge face puffed-up and sweaty. Xrini looked around and saw that the carriage was almost empty, except for a handful of people scattered in the compartment. He got off his seat and sat in front of a TV screen. It would distract him from D’s face.

An advertisement was on, where the Prime Minister of India was showcasing his newest idea - a universal modular battery. Usable across any type of EVs. Swappable at all charging points.

“Just remove the battery from your EV and swap it out for a charged one from a charging point nearby”, the advertisement went on, “Made to fit all vehicles. 2-wheelers, 4 wheelers.”

“About time”, Xrini said under his breath.

He thought how this was already implemented in Nigeria a decade ago and Honda had implemented it in India in 2023, but on a private level. Dunno which standard power-outlet India would decide to use? But at least some kind of progress would be made. Businesses would crop-up which would help to turn the existing fossil-fuelled vehicles into EVs. Maybe, he could swap out his petrol tank from his petrol bike and fit a new modular-chassis for the proposed modular-batteries. The electric-motor would be fitted on the wheels…

“Next station BSNL”, the metro announced.

Xrini opened his eyes. He had fallen asleep. The TV monitor played a Bollywood song. Had he dreamed about the universal battery? No time to think. He had missed his stop. The station was rolling in - Xrini jumped out of his seat and exited the door.

He knew he would go down to the concourse level and then catch the metro going in the opposite direction, he would be back at Chembur in no time. He was lucky as he saw the Chembur-headed train standing on the platform as he was coming up the escalator on the other side. He jumped the last few steps and entered the train - in the nick of time - he entered, and the automatic metro-train door had closed behind him.

He sat down to catch his breath. He opened his phone to check the m-indicator map. There were a couple of stations before he reached Chembur. Satisfied, he pocketed his cellphone. The train started to slow down for the next stop.

“You have reached the last stop. Kindly alight here”, the announcer said.

He saw all the people were getting down. Xrini got up from his seat and started to follow them. Why was the train ending its journey? He tried to get to the last passenger, to get directions. But he was slow, the last passenger disappeared down the stairway in a hurry. Xrini looked for some signs on why the metro was stopping short. He looked towards the driver side - he was two carriages away – maybe there was a guard there to provide an explanation.

He saw past the train’s first compartment – the horizon was dark, but in the dim brightness of dawn, he could see the end of the tracks, behind which sparks were flying. Did the girders in front of the train collapse?  Why was no one else panicking? Were the rest of the people smart enough to get off this elevated platform. His walk had slowed down as he stared into the dim brightness and contemplated an exit down the stairway behind him.

There were no announcements too. Didn’t he just a few minutes ago pass this way when he had missed his stop? And now this return-train could not get back to Chembur?

Xrini’s mind reeled from the flash of thoughts running in his brain. The train lights went off and it started to move forward towards the darkness. Was it rolling towards its impending doom? Xrini started to move forward subconsciously with the train and opened his mouth to shout when his eye fell on the reflection of the metro’s glossy exterior.

“DRUNK-MAN”, the reflection of the station read.

Mankhurd- he smiled at himself. He stood there looking at the station name, scratching his head. How had he reached the end of the line?  He looked on, as the train stopped in the distance, the lights came on, a bleak sun started to break the morning sky. It showed Xrini, the surrounding creek faraway. Xrini looked on as he made out shapes of men at work on cranes welding - sparks flying as they continued their work. The metro line over the creek from Mankhurd to Vashi was under construction. Mainland Bombay was being connected to New-Bombay.

Xrini boarded the next train to Dahisar-East, he smiled at his misadventure. He couldn’t wait to tell Sofia about it. He surmised, he had overslept the last stop, the train went into the yard, changed tracks and was on its way to Dahisar-East. He had woken up before Chembur at BSNL.

Then instead of taking a bit of time to think, he had jumped across and caught the opposite line back to Mankhurd - the end of the line.

“Next stop Chembur”, The announcer said.

He alighted the air-conditioned metro and as the foul smell hit him, he wondered whether Sofia would call him or not.

 

--- THE END ---

 

 

 

Recipe- Avocado Chicken Cake

Recipe- Avocado Chicken Cake

Guest Writer name - Written as narrated by Ancey Gonsalves 

Genre - Non-Fiction

Sub-genre - Motivational

Length of recipe- 2 hours

Ingredients:

Part 1: Filling

Paneer / Chicken	200 gms.
Vegetables (Cabbage / Carrots / Bell-peppers / Corn)	2 cups
Onions / Spring onions	2 nos. (medium). Optional.

Method:

• - Apply ginger + garlic paste to the chicken.
• - Boil the marinated chicken with salt + pepper + lime juice + minimal water until shred-able (2 whistles in the pressure-cooker)
• - Strain the chicken and keep for cooling.
• - Chicken stock can be used later while grinding the frosting.
• - Shred the chicken using gloves.
• - Julienne the mix veggies + (optional) onions finely chopped.

• 
  

• Part 2: Chutney frosting

• Chutney Frosting/ Avocado Frosting	Indian chutneys are usually spicy dips. However, here the consistency matches only. The spiciness is not present, as Avocado is used, instead of green chillies.
  Avocados	2 nos.
  Hung curd	100 gms.
  Coriander leaves	1/2 bundle
  Mint Leaves	¼ bundle. Optional.
  Chillies (Light Green)	2 nos.
  Garlic	2 cloves
  Lime Juice	1 nos.
  Salt	Minimal

  Method:

  • - De-seed and de-skin the Avocado.
  • - Hang the curd overnight.
  • - Blend Avocado with hung curd and hung curd, coriander leaves, mint leaves, chilies, garlic. Blend to dip consistency.
  • - Use the stock-water to help while blending.

Assembling the Avocado Chicken Cake:

• - Take a firm base.
• - Make 8 sandwiches.
• - Each sandwich to be stuffed with the veg/non-veg filling.
• - Stack the sandwiches into two columns side-by-side on the firm base.
• - Coat the rectangular formation with frosting via a spatula.
• - Use coriander leaves to form decorative patterns (Or any other décor can be implemented).
• - Write name with chocolate piping.

-=--=-

THE END

Do reply with your feedback.

Guess the Worker

 

NOTE: NO PHOTOS IN THIS BLOG; ALL PICTURES ARE ADVERTISEMENTS.

Genre - Fiction

Sub-genre - Motivational

Length of blog - 1600 words

 

PART ONE: The Outsourced One

                Veknat joined the company after his graduation. He had taken it up after a relative referred him to the post of photocopier. Despite not knowing why he was having the same job title as the photocopier machine he operated, Veknat had taken it up, on the insistence of his relative that the organisation was a world-class one which took care of its employees and their growth. And, grow he did. His hard work paid off into a desk job, followed by promotion into the facilities administration team.

                A few years later he was onto the organisations core production environments - gaining experience and becoming skilled in the area, dealing with distributors and the technical aspects of designing the product rollouts across the globe. After a decade of working on linkages of global delivery across shipping lines etc., Veknat was pulled towards the last mile rollouts. There was a significant change in government policy which changed the last mile delivery. The entire company was abuzz with this new arm which could better the already great profits.

                Veknat applied and got through the hands-on trainings and performing with flying colours, Venkat got the hike and position in the new department. The only small drawback Venkat could see was that it was on a partner payroll.

                A handful of years down the line, the partner company was ejected from the main organization. The uniforms remained the same. They were allowed to take their tools home. The pay was hiked and yet he was now subcontracted - outsourced to a third-party vendor. Veknat comforted himself by looking at his paycheck and in the knowledge that this industry was an evergreen one.

                In a few months he was fired.

                His manager stated, “You are too expensive for the company”

 

PART TWO: The Scam

Veknat was flabbergasted, how did he get into such a spot where he delivered the company’s product so well that he had cut himself out of the company. He was with a mortgage, which could be taken care of by his wife’s income, but what about their daily sustenance. They started living hand-to-mouth.

He made a few phone calls to competitors but no luck. He looked at the aspect of joining as a fresher in another trade.

“But what about my rich experience in this field”, he asked his wife.

“Yes, I too was thrown out the same way last year”, Joey said.

Veknat had got Joey’s number from another colleague.

“Meet me at the corner tea shop tomorrow at 10”, Joey continued into the phone, “Come in uniform and bring your toolbox.”

Veknat was excited to get a job. He had excitedly told his wife and with a hop in his step reached the corner tea shop. Soon Joey arrived on a bicycle in the same crisp uniform.

“Why are we in uniform? Are we doing consultant work for our company”, Veknat said after pleasantries.

“No”, Joey replied. His head high as if smelling his tea from afar. He motioned Veknat to bring his ear near his mouth.

Joey did not whisper into Veknat’s ear, neither did he shout, but mildly said,” We are going to scam people.”

Veknat pulled back as if he was bit on his ear. But before he could say anything Joey continued.

“We do the same servicing job on people’s appliances, the only difference being we approach them rather than they approach us.”

Veknat followed Joey into his first scam. He was calm and as instructed by Joey was only to observe Joey’s style. The rest would be easy - servicing the intricate last mile devices. They entered an apartment building under false pretense.

No one suspected them, coz of their uniform.

Then some random loitering to “filter out someone to scam”, as Joey had put it. He seemed to know what he was doing. Then they climbed the stairs, avoiding the elevator and Joey pointed at a door.

“TV is on, not too many shoes in the shoe rack”, Joey explained.

The doorbell was rung.

Joey quickly took out a bottle of ethyl alcohol and doused his hand with it. The door was opened by a man. Three more sets of eyes peered at them from inside.

“We are from here to do some routine checks. Kindly open the door”, Joey said.

They both entered. Joey, in a flash, was in the kitchen, fidgeting with the appliance. He lit a match and showed the owner of the appliance how it was giving out flames at unwanted places.

The fires extinguished by a small cloth; a deal broken for servicing the device. And on completion they were paid well, thanked and at the tea shop before noon. They had even handwritten the bill on company’s receipt book – which was part of their standard company toolbox.

“The ethyl alcohol is just to give the residents a push towards the servicing”, Joey said.

“Yes, I guessed as much, the poor souls will never know they were scammed”, Veknat said.

“The fire works make them come to their senses about equipment safety et al; we are doing them a favour ya”, Joey said.

“Yes, especially if they are lazy about gas safety. And looking at the gas company’s service engineer shortage, they would’ve been relieved for doctor’s visit”, Veknat said.

Joey winked at him, “Just see that you know how to vamoose fast enough if they find something fishy.”

“Like ask for ID?” Veknat said.

“Yes, or if one of us had just scammed them earlier”, Joey said and let out a laugh.

“So, we can divide the area and conquer. Keep in touch. You can use my bicycle when you feel like making some money”, Joey said.

They both went their separate ways.

 

PART THREE: Not always a scamster!

It was not until Sheely herself wanted someone to fix her pipes; did she realise how hard a job it was.

“Not to fix your pipes – but a singular pipe”, Jailesh said.

“Yes whatever”, Sheely murmured into the phone.

A frown coming to her face, Jailesh wouldn’t understand her predicament, even if he did, he would not be able to help her from Germany. As soon as she knew their relationship would be a long-distance one, she had learned to drive. Jailesh too had ‘chipped in’ by buying her an electric scooter.

They were waiting to get married first, then Jailesh could service her pipes as much as he wanted. She knew he was trying to get her in a lighter moody by joking, but he was not helping her situation. They both said their byes, and the video call was cut.

She dialed the gas company helpline, “Hello, I smell gas.”

“Please switch off all outlets and open all the windows, mam”, someone guided her.

“Yes, all that was yesterday, and no imminent danger, but how can I get it fixed though?” Sheely said.

“Mam, I see you have taken steps and done the needful the contain the situation, however, since one individual household has a problem the household appliances repairs are not supported by the gas company, I cannot help you any further.” the other voice continued, “This is for a single apartment, right?”

“Yes, but I need my appliance fixed, else how will I cook and eat, it’s kinda an emergency, as I do not know whom to contact. I tried to contact the phone number on the installation bill; it is unreachable. I even went to the address on it and the address seemed to be a fake one. There is no such building on that entire street – I went up and down the street at least a handful of times asking around - the landmark opposite it is present, yet opposite that landmark is an open playground since eons it seems. This entire operation seems fishy”, Sheely was ranting.

“Please contact our appliance distributors for further assistance. This line is for gas emergencies only. Since there is no immediate assistance needed, I will hang up”, the line was cut.

Sheely laughed at her reflection on the blank phone screen.

“Why would a company which installed the entire housing complex’s gas pipeline, and the adjoining appliances give out an address which does not exist?”, Sheely WhatsApp-ed Jailesh.

“… Typing”, her phone said.

“It’s only your hot water geyser which is affected”, Jailesh replied.

“I know but someone should be able to repair it, right?”, Sheely continued typing, “I called the gas company and lied about gas leakage, but due to no imminent danger, they were not interested in the fake address of the install company”

“Let me try to go to the gas company in some time”, Sheely typed.

“Try it, but I guess they would say the same thing”, Jailesh replied.

Sheely picked up her bag and walked out of her gate. It was a 10-minute walk to the nearest bus stop to the gas company’s headquarters.

She rounded a corner, and her eyes caught the familiar sky-blue uniform on a bicycle. It was the gas man. She seemed to remember seeing these guys pass by her neighbourhood. Sheely waved to the man on the cycle.

Her eyes squinted to read the logo on his shirt, “—CL”

The breast pocket turned away, she could only see CL, was he HPCL or BPCL or MPCL, she did not care, the “burning gas” symbol was good enough for her.

“My gas geyser has conked off, gives a gas smell but does not light up. I tried to reach your office on LBS road, but no luck. Can you help me”, Sheely said.

“Mam you can leave out going to our office, I can help you”, Veknat smiled broadly, “Lead the way to your apartment.”

His first day and he did not have to scam!

--- THE END ---

Guides

 

Guides

NOTE: NO PHOTOS IN THIS BLOG; ALL PICTURES ARE ADVERTISEMENTS.

Genre - Fiction

Sub-genre - Road-trip

Length of blog - 2400 words

Chapter One: In-between Rock Caves and Hard Fort.

                Jay and Lakeisha had taken off for the weekend. This time too, an early Friday evening getaway had made them reach their destination by dinnertime. They checked-in to their pre-booked hotel room and went off to bed. Their tummies full, cuddling led to a make-out session.

                Next morning, they were at Ellora Caves, which was around 15-minute drive, north from their hotel. They parked and had breakfast followed by exploration of the caves. And by lunch had circled back to the parking-lot.

                “That was fast”, Lakeisha said.

                “Yeah the similarity of the caves did help”, Jay said.

                “I liked how the group of Southeast-Asians were actually praying in one of the Buddhist temples”, Lakeisha continued, “By the way, look what I found in the garden at the entrance.”

                She held a throwaway water bottle to Jay’s face.

                “A cherry tomato”, Jay continued, “I’m sure the well-kept garden did not have a vegetable patch. It probably fell out of a foreigner’s tiffin.”

                “We’ll be sure once it grows in our garden”, Lakeisha said.

                Jay had mounted some pots on one vertical wall of their apartment's balcony, under Lakeisha’s guidance.

                “Do you need a guide?”, a stranger who had approached them said.

                They both shook their heads in unison.

                “How about some guide books – here is one of Khajuraho”, the stranger said.

                He held forward a picturesque book of sculptures which were in various stages of copulation.

                “Hey, do we look like perverts”, Jay said.

                This made the guide lose interest in them.

                “I think yesterday night’s episode, can categorize us as perverts”, Lakeisha said.

                “That guy doesn’t need to know that”, Jay continued, “Plus don’t we keep away from guides.”

                It had been a passing topic which led to a tacit decision between them to ‘explore’ more and use tour-guides less.

                They had lunch at an eatery close to their hotel, followed by a quick refreshing nap.

                “Where next?”, Lakiesha said, “Do we have the stamina to climb a fort?”

                “Let’s take baby steps and see where we land up”, Jay said.

                Daulatabad fort was again a 15 minute drive southwards from their hotel.

                “Honey, you are going in the wrong direction”, Lakeisha said”, Daulatabad fort is in the opposite direction.

                “Yes, a short detour to see Aurangzeb’s grave”, Jay said.

                In half an hours’ time they were back on track - heading towards Daulatabad fort.

A grave next to his teacher was Aurangzeb’s burial wishes; hence the humble grave, in a common graveyard of a shanty town.

“What a tiny place and those tour-guides were shoving photos of the grave in our hands.”, Lakiesha said.

“Yeah, it’s their livelihood. It’s a small place, yeah, so everything looks gloomy. I too felt a little bad and tipped the parking attendant well”, Jay said.

Their attention turned towards a structure atop a hill. Soon they were greeted by a compound wall on their right. A parking-lot appeared.

 

Chapter two: The hard to capture fort.

 

“So, what’s the plan? Do we enter, daylight will be gone soon?”, Lakeisha said.

“Yes, we enter, and the strategy of this visit is, that we go right up to the top of the fort first” Jay said.

He had paid the entrance fee and was moving into the fort. They paid little attention to the huge doorway, elongated entrance, followed by a courtyard.

“Once we get to the top, we will get an idea of the fort’s layout and surroundings,” Jay continued”, “A view from the top.”

Jay winked.

                “Aha and we can catch the sunset as well”, Lakeisha said.

                The sun was hidden behind the fort. The fort’s shadow covered the courtyard in a warm evening except for the singular tower, which still caught the sunrays halfway up. The tower was not open for public viewing and the stairs were blocked.

                “For safety reasons, I guess”, Jay said.

                The tower did not match the surroundings. The rest of the courtyard was littered with rooms of various needs-of-past. A few amateur painters were trying to capture the fort in their painting with their easels.

                “Oh! So that is how to capture a fort nowadays”, Jay said.

The courtyard landed onto the foothill of the fort, which they climbed. A small bridge rose into the innards of the fort.

                “Wow, a moat”, Lakeisha said.

                They entered the dark viscera of the hill.

                Paths wound upwards, they held each other’s hands and stepped forward into the bleak light of their cellphone’s inbuilt flash. A few wrong turns, and weird curves later they reached a clearing. At the other end of the clearing, another door, another flight of stairs and finally they reached a bright open livable space four floors up. It had a verandah with short border walls due to which it felt like a bungalow.

                “This would look plush when decorated”, Lakeisha said.

                A few tourists loitered around. The view was unobstructed all around, except for the sunset in the west. Lakeisha saw Jay on a higher plinth. She saw the stairs leading there and followed him. On reaching up, Jay was nowhere to be seen.

                “Jay”, she said.

                A couple of calls and still Jay did not reply. She realized she was almost at the summit; the plinth overlooked the spacious quarters below and encircled it. The huge verandah had no cover. The only way on top was to circle around the roof of this floor from the outside of the hill.

Lakeisha stepped out and saw the tiny rooftops of a village in the south. She looked closer to the bottom of the hill and saw a few more ruins. She looked towards the west and saw her husband waving out to her. A short climb and she was now seeing the sunset.

The summit had a couple of caves.

“Smoking zone”, Jay said.

They spent a few moments there before Lakeisha said.

“Once the sun goes down the way down would be even more difficult.”

They retraced their steps towards the living quarters. They seemed to be the only people there. Jay walked towards the east verandah parapet.

“Look at the size of that cannon”, Jay said, as he pointed downwards.

Lakeisha saw the huge cannon on a cylindrical building.

“Remember how when we sketch a fort, we draw these cylindrical structures at all the four corners?” Lakeisha said.

“It’s 16 foot in length, the cannon”, a stranger next to them said, “Come this way.”

He led them towards the north, and they circled downwards along the path which led towards the cannon. At the base of the cannon he stopped. Lakeisha overtook both of them and climbed the few stairs to the flat circular top which held the cannon.

                “This cannon can fire all around almost 360 degrees except exactly behind”, the stranger said.

                “It would take many men to turn the cannon to aim it”, Jay said.

                “Look at the panoramic view”, Lakeisha said.

                She did a short twirl, her ghagra-top obediently followed.

                “This hill was thus chosen by…” the stranger’s voice trailed off as he walked down the steps with Jay.

                Lakeisha knuckled the wrought iron cannon, which did not flinch. She followed the duo back down the steps. She saw them standing over a hollow pit, in discussion.

                “Look at this”, Jay continued, “Once the cannon was aimed, all the men cleared the area, except for one who would light the fuse. He would light the fuse and run down the stairs and dunk his face into this pit- which would be filled with water.”

                Jay actioned it all.

                He did a running action down the stairs, half bent to show the pool dunk, covered both his ears with both palms and his mouth was puffed to act out the breath-holding part.

                “To save his eardrums from the huge sound this cannon made”, Jay said releasing his breath.

Lakeisha looked at the now dry pit. It was waste height and was cut out of the rock, the size of a large, deep wash basin.

                They walked back up the path towards the living area. While curving the north edge and Lakeisha walked off the path to check out the mountain wall - it was steep.

                “We can see the moat below”, she said.

                Jay followed her.

                “Yes, there is only one entrance over the moat, the other three sides are steep cliffs. And the moat used to be filled with crocodiles and poisonous snakes”, the stranger said aloud.

                “Who is this crocodile guy?”, Lakesha asked Jay under her breath.

                “Heh, a guide I suppose”, Jay continued, “Lets go with the flow.”

                As they passed the quarters the stranger said, “It’s my duty to usher all the guests out at closing time. I had finished up here when you two came down from the caves at the top.”

                “We were catching the sunset”, Lakeisha said.

                “Let’s continue to exit, I’ll give you a tour on the way out”, the man continued, “The caves at the very top are second century BC. And these are the living quarters. As we go down the stairs, we can be sure that this is where the last stand would be taken before reaching the living quarters above.”

                They reached the small verandah on the lower floor. Jay and Lakeisha started to head towards the other end which had a similar opening to exit.

                “On this floor was the last battleground, “the guide said.

 “As you can see this side falls into the steep moat. So the fort-holders knew they had to push their opponents down that-a-way.”

Jay and Lakeisha looked around the single-room sized space. They turned towards exit.

“Look here”, The guide said. He was set on showing them the fort in detail.

Jay was almost halfway through the doorway, when he saw the guide’s hand through a small opening near the door. He bent and put his head in the decent sized hole.

“A person could fit through the hole”, Lakeisha said.

“But they wouldn’t survive”, the guide said.

His hands made a swinging motion from above his head.

“The attackers head would be chopped off as he would try to enter or look from the hole beside the doorway.”

“There would’ve been a door then”, Jay said.

He had hopped back to where the guide was and was inspecting the hole from the verandah.

                “It’s the perfect height for the executioner”, Jay said. He too did the head chopping movement.

                “And then the head would be kicked into the chute there”, the guide said.

                Another opening in the wall – this one the size of a door- it was next to the hole in the wall. A similar setup was on the opposite wall which they had just come down from.

                “Hey, these openings in the wall are open dummy doors. An unknown person would be bound to walk or run into them, only to find themselves falling down a chute”, Jay said.

                He and Lakeisha walked back to the other wall and saw the similar three holes, first the doorway to stairs, followed by a hole in the wall, and third the dummy door to death.

                “I was wondering why there would be a chute, when another step left would anyways send the enemy down the cliff”, Lakeisha continued, “its all there to deceive the enemy into thinking he is entering a doorway.

                Lakeisha answered her own question. They were all moving in the wrong direction, upwards.

                “Let’s go downwards”, the guide said.

                They exited the last stance floor. Onto the dark alleyway.

                “Stay on the right”, they were guided down a short slow slope. A small opening in the wall gave a dim glow. The spy hole gave a view of the dim courtyard below.

                As the ground flattened, the guide said, “Stay left.”

                They again felt the rock wall on their left. It was pitch-black now. A few paces, and they could see the sunset glow in a westward opening. The guide stood in their way.

                “Don’t go towards the light, it’s a sure fall”, he said.        

                Jay and Lakeisha froze. Both holding each other to not to let the other move.

                “On our right towards the courtyard is the correct way to exit.

                Someone’s mobile flashlight shown towards the right. Both waited for the guide to move first.

                “We came hugging the left wall, and if we hug the right wall, we will keep going in circles”, the guide continued, “It’s a loop – make the enemy charge at their own men in the blackness. This area is always pitch dark.”

                Jay and Lakeisha made a loop in the dark. They noticed the right-wall had a small slit of an opening to reach the slope upwards.

“This could easily be missed”, Jay said. He shone his mobile flashlight up the slit in the wall.

“Let’s move down”, the guide said.

                They exited over the bridge.

                “The original entrance is via there”, the guide pointed downwards towards an opening on a lower level.

                “And a bridge connected from there”, he continued to point towards the opposite wall of the moat.

                The lower level lay in ruins, probably because of the multiple tries at forced entry. The bridge that they all stood on was a metal one, put up there by the ASI.

                Past the bridge down a gentle slope, they found themselves in the courtyard. The guide described the various dilapidated buildings as granary, temple, mosque, barracks, stables, etc. They all looked the same in their dull state. No daylight remained as they crossed the singular tower.

                “The tower was built by the one of the wannabe-conquerors, who laid siege and wanted to see the ongoings in the fort’s living space four-floors up”, the guide said.

                They were at the main gate now.

                The corridor and the insides of the room which housed the main gate – all had hiding spaces for an imminent ambush, the guide explained. The way to parking-lot curved left – so that the enemy would be slowed down. The huge main gate which was spiked and curved inwards too - so that elephants couldn’t charge straight into them to break them down.

                “That was wonderful!”, Lakeisha said.

                She turned around to see Jay palm the guide a big note.

                “That was Sachin, he works for the Archeological Survey of India”. 

--- THE END ---

 

               

 

 

 

 

 

 

               

 

 

               

               

Hampi – A fictional tragedy!

 

Hampi – A fictional tragedy!

NOTE: NO PHOTOS IN THIS BLOG; ALL PICTURES ARE ADVERTISEMENTS.

Genre - Fiction

Sub-genre - Road-trip

Length of blog - 2300 words

Iossif was a travel writer, and as per his tradition, he had got a hold of his travel buddy and as per plan they were on their way to Hampi. Misha had just bought a new car around a month back and was excited about the 1600 km round trip road journey. Iossif on the contrary was flaccid, he considered himself an impassive person in the navigator seat, the name of the seat just a keepsake now that the driver was ever resourceful with google maps et al. The last leg of the road, a 300km freeway to Bangalore was straight and sturdy. Misha, was all praise for 6-lane road.

“What’s there in Hampi?” was one of the conversations that started and ended quite abruptly; both the travellers not wanting to break the suspense.

“Take the left and you have reached your destination”, the female voice on the app said. The landscape had turned hilly. The type of hills they had both seen for the first time. There were rocks of various sizes but cube-shaped. And the cuboids were placed one on top of the other, as if on purpose. Iossif and Misha had started to notice the terrain changes quite a few miles back. They found a state department owned tourism center and decided that this was their resting place for the day. Through the trees from their room they could see a nearby ruin partially. Ruins is what Hampi is famous for.

 “Look”, Iossif said as he pointed towards the ruins, “They used the same rocks to build them”

“Here’s what Google says,” Misha read, “Hampi was a temple town and is recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage site with ruins from 1343 to 1565 AD. Hampi was the rich capital of the Vijayanagara Empire when it was at its peak during 14th century “

“Haha, I smell treasure” Iossif said.

They had a few hours of daylight with them and they decided to scout the area. Back into the car they headed for the main temple area. In today’s day, Hampi continues to be famous for its temples. Lots of ruins passed them, an entrance with remains of a wall, a stone bull, etc., all with neatly marked signboards in various languages along the winding road. They had reached the main entrance, the car parked they entered the main temple with stone walls; pilgrims were in various stages of prayer in the huge campus. A stone altar with wheels the size of a fully-grown man stood in front of the temple entrance. This altar-cum-chariot being as tall as a single storey building would have to be pulled by thousands of pilgrims if it had to go anywhere.

“It could’ve easily been used as a tank”, Iossif sail aloud.

They noticed the entire block of temples, inclusive of the tourist bazaar was a vegetarian area, in respect of the holy grounds. They had traversed the entire settlement and reached the banks of the Tungabadhra river. The river ebbed, its flow controlled by a dam a couple of kilometers upstream. A motorized coracle lazily crossed the river.

“How do they know which side is port and which side is starboard”, Misha said staring at the round boat.

“It would not be able to carry more than a handful of people”, Iossif contnued, “And oh, yet look at it ferrying bikes too!”

 The opposite bank led to mini-Hampi.

“We’ll go there the last two days,” Iossif heard Misha say.

He nodded back, his friend captured a few pictures in the sunset on his cellphone.

“The smell from the gutter will not be caught in the photos, you know”, Iossif said.

Misha smiled back. They retreated knowing not to get on each other’s nerves. Back at the hotel they had dinner over a couple of beers and decided their next day’s itinerary.

“A funny thing happened, when you were freshening up before dinner and I had gone to the store nearby”, Iossif said.

“Hmmmm”, his friend responded as he sipped on his drink.

“I started a conversation about treasure with the store keeper”, Iossif said.

“I can imagine you, with the all kinds of signs being made by you to overcome the language barrier,” Misha laughed.

“I asked him if any treasure can be found around”, Iossif continued, “The man pointed at the full moon and said that it was a good time and we may come across a few local ruffians doing the same too.”

They headed for their room and immediately noticed their entire lobby was full of people. A posse of family members were to be their noisy neighbours. And thanks to them they were up early to continue their trip. The first half of the day they visited the ruins they had passed last evening. A mixture of temples, army quarters, the main palace, a queen’s bath of which now the foundation remained, elephant stables, granary ruins, an octagonal bath, watch towers, etc. All made from the same cuboid rocks.

“Ram had used these rocks to construct the bridge to Sri Lanka”, Misha was referring to the mythological story of Ramayana.

 “So the rocks were there before Ram or did he use his powers to convert entire hills into pyramids of cubes”, Iossif said.

They had earlier visited the temples with details of monkey men - the monkey-men who had helped Ram construct the bridge to enter Sri Lanka to save his wife Sita from Ravana. One temple had carvings where each monkey-man had a different kind of armour, readying for war. The temples in solid stone were proof of a religion set in this Indian subcontinent. Iossif felt himself doubting his own beliefs.

Their next stop, the official museum gave them more of an idea of the life during the Devarayas. Krishnadevaraya, the most popular amongst the dynasty awoke before dawn, rode his horses hard, exercised with weapons and conducted his daily managerial tasks all before lunch.

“Let’s have lunch after this”, Misha said.

They stared at painting by Domingo Paes, a Portuguese traveller who had captured the Hampi marketplace in its heyday.

“Look at those sacks filled with precious stones”, Iossif said.

He pointed to one corner of the overcrowded painting. A setting with merchants on mammoths, horses along with their masters having negotiations with pointed capped foreigners. The grandeur of the ancient city’s past glory not left to imagination.

“I have never seen so many people in a single painting”, Iossif continued over the lunch table, “It could’ve been passed off as a recent photo of any railway station in Mumbai.”

They had settled for the first eatery that they could find and gobbled down the simple meal. The next stop was to be the place they had just seen in the painting. They drove eastwards to the next cluster of ruins which farther along would meet the Tungabadhra again. Car parked they readied themselves to enter the painting. Battery operated elongated versions of golf carts plied tourists along the entire bazaar of which only ruins remained today. The bazaar itself as long as a football field, ended in a temple. Adjacent were a few more temples.

An arch nearby known as “King’s balance”, where they weighed heavy stuff from the bazaar. A two-storeyed building was a part of this area, which too was made from the same cube-shaped blocks of rocks.

“So the temples were built in honour of Ram who had used Hampi’s rocks”, Iossif continued, “I wonder why they didn’t construct any toilets though, I wonder where they pooed”

“It was bushier 500 years ago”, Misha said.

A visit of the satellite ruins got them to a sunset by the riverside. Here another coracle ferried tourists to a fourth set of ruins. They sat along the bank to enjoy the sunset. Iossif made a few mental notes for his write-up. An unfinished bridge lay across the river. It seemed to have been lost in translation, a couple of dumper trucks without tyres, an almost complete uphill slope on the other side, which suggested the work held up from a couple of years at least.

 Misha pointed to the tallest hill across the bank and said, “We’ll catch the sunset from there tomorrow.”

They left for their hotel where they were greeted by the throng of their neighbour’s family. Iossif hovered around the lobby, the children played, women chattered, it was as if the entire family tree was on tour. A middle aged man came up to him.

“Yep, we all come here every year, a good outing for everyone”, he said with a heavy southern Indian accent.

“Oh, Hampi is beautifu…”, Iossif was cut short.

“badagboodoogbadagboodoogbadagboodoogbadagboodoog, karnataka… badagboodoogbadagboodoogbadagboodoogbadagboodoog, Hampi” the man said in the local language.

Iossif guessed the language was Kannada, though he couldn’t tell the difference. Thankfully the man translated what he had just spoken into English.

“If you have eyes you can see Karnataka, but if you have legs you can see Hampi”, the man continued, “Old Karnataka state saying.”

“These are your children?” Iossif said.

“Yes those two over there and those are my elder brother’s kids…” the man’s voice drifted away as Iossif got lost into his own train of thoughts.

 Iossif knew he would use “ye old Karnataka state saying” in his story. He was prone to these random inputs from random people. He didn’t know why - probably he had a very approachable face - he had come to terms with such experiences, where he would be shown how to bring about the twist in his story writing by total strangers. He liked it. And it was probably why people said, “You journey to find yourself.”

He made a couple of entries in his notebook before bed. The next day, they headed out to the fourth set of ruins. The coracle ride was slow and Iossif watched the water as it threatened to enter the wok-shaped vessel.

“God knows why they can’t complete this bridge”, Iossif said over the noise of the motor.

Misha who was in conversation with another fellow passenger, turned and responded, “This guy is a local and he says the bridge was almost near completion when the Tungabhadra overflowed and destroyed the bridge.”

The rest of the boat ride was completed in silence. Iossif wondered if everyone understood what they had spoken in English and were respecting the wrath of the nature or was it just coincidence.

The fourth set of ruins were connected to mini-Hampi by a handful of kilometers of road. But alas their car was on the other side and Misha did not want to leave his new car unattended overnight. So they completed their tour of Gagan Mahal, a residence to one of the ancient lords and his kin as soon as they could and journeyed back over the river.

A few inquiries with lots of actions in the coracle got them the confirmation of the land route they needed. They would have to traverse through Annegundi, a city 10 kms downstream, where there was a bridge to get to the other side by car. They did it by 5 pm. It had been a bumpy and slow three-hour journey. And yet the car ride was worth it, Mini-Hampi had a Goa vibe. There were gulleys with memorabilia sold all along it. Foreigners strolled with knapsacks, non-vegetarian cuisine along with alcoholic beverages were hoarded across the area. A cool breeze flew over the lush green paddy fields, coconut palms completed the montage. And of course, there were also bikes on hire. Iossif and Misha bargained themselves a bike and headed for the tall hill to witness the sunset.

Atop the hill was a temple; not a ruin but famous anyways. 1500 steps were laid out to the top for ease of access to crowds of tourists, by now all of whom had gotten used to the ‘cubes’ of rocks. The sun highlighted each set of ruins as it withdrew westwards into the horizon. They had a bird’s eye view of the entire surrounding area. A few 4-pillared ruins could be seen on the short adjacent hilltops which had probably been used as lookout posts.

Iossif tried to follow their route from the main temple to where they were right now. Opposite the main temple across the river closest to them was mini-Hampi. Mini-Hampi an island formed by the river splitting and meeting back again around it. Further downstream were ruins number three and four. The pillars of the ancient bridge could be seen. And then it struck Iossif, he knew how he would end his story. The ancient people were a tough lot, they had a ruler who promoted fair trade and got them all to live in a civilized society; yet fell short. They built palaces, markets, outposts, granaries and gardens, yet they did not build toilets. The outposts and barrack settlements were few compared to the wealth they had accumulated. They may have flourished for another century if they had concentrated more on fortifications rather building temples. The ancient bridge and the newly perished bridge a testimony to the tragic end to the capital city of an empire by over flooding of a river.

 

===THE END===