Paris - Toute Seule

My sporadic blogging has become far more sporadic in the last few months; read - I was too busy/ too lazy/ too uninspired to write anything. However, I am now back from my annual holiday and the blogger in me has woken up :)

I have a tick on my checklist of something new, somewhere new for 2017- Solo Tripping in Paris. Yes, solo tripping - what people are nowadays doing at the age of 21 and 22 and don't consider a big deal; I did it at 31 and it was a very big deal for me. Why Paris, you ask - Amsterdam topped the list of recommendations I received from very many when I started planning my trip. Paris, however was non negotiable for me. The connection is special and the trip was long overdue.

Let me take you back to 1998 and 13 year old me in a corner classroom in school in my first ever French class. It was not my subject of choice - who wanted to study one more subject pfft! I was bullied into it by a family friend who is a teacher herself - French is a far better subject to score marks in, she said and I was sold! New words, more rules of grammar, trying pronunciations came flowing into my world and before I knew it, it was my subject of choice in college and then I landed at Alliance Francaise to study the language some more. It was there that my love for France and the French language grew. We studied not just the language but the culture, the history, the monuments - I remember a time I started making spelling mistakes in my English paper because I would spell the word in French. So Paris it had to be - because in a way, I had already visited it.

So I took a trip to the US to attend my cousin's wedding and was to stop in Paris for 3 days towards the end of April. I landed into a freezing Paris (spring, they called it), super excited about all the fun to be had on this trip and to show off my French - well one of two happened! I got my bags and made my way to the train platform to head to my hostel. Diversity at its very best, we had Chinese, Americans, South Africans, Indians and so many more all looking around clueless, asking each other for help and then passing on information to fellow lost souls. Traveling in any new city especially outside of your own country is a task - it takes a while to get used their system and your senses are on hyper alert mode for a while. An hour of dragging my heavy stroller through Gare du Nord to change trains, getting lost and having walked to the wrong platform twice, I arrived in Montmartre; the artsy district of Paris which is also a hill - Yay for me and my heavy stroller which I, huffed and puffed and dragged uphill. Montmartre, oh Montmartre; you are so pretty. From the many many cafes, bars & restaurants that lace the small streets to the  Moulin Rouge standing very "in your face" and grabbing everyone's attention to the gorgeous Sacre Coeur; Montmartre is a city in a city with its own personality.  Every itinerary for every day was pretty much set even before I landed in Paris - I am not a spontaneous traveler, I tried to be but I failed.

Street Art in Montmartre  *PC - Priya Pillai

*PC - Priya Pillai

Sacre Coeur *PC - Priya Pillai

One of the original windmills in Montmartre *PC - Priya Pillai

I was in a country whose native language I have studied so I didn't anticipate any problems through my trip and I didn't have any issue through most of my travel except one. I got a SIM card with data for my phone so I would have Google maps and enough data to post on Instagram :P But within 2 hours of purchasing this, the internet stopped working. So I dragged myself back to the shop only to find the staff had changed and now I had to explain my perils to the very stern looking French gentleman. The "Bonjour Monsieur" came quite easily and it stopped there. As I begun explaining my peril of internet data not working, I could see the man slowly step away from the counter - It was possibly fear or irritation; I couldn't really tell - I was concentrating hard on translating English to French and then conjugating verbs and putting them in the correct tenses in my head and then spitting them out. By the time I was done, the gentleman didn't take half a minute to try and make sense of my conversation and replied "Je ne comprends pas" (I do not understand). So I gave it a go one more time, this time with gestures; pointing at my phone and the Safari icon and then waving my hand in the air saying "Not working"; he was clearly disinterested this time; paying more attention to the poster on the wall behind me. When I finished my sentence a minute later, the man had a blank look on his face and he didn't even need to say that he didn't understand. I admitted defeat and vowed to come back much stronger (in French)the next time around. The argument was not worth the little money I had paid for the data or worth wasting a gorgeous Parisian evening.

My agenda in Paris was very simple - sleep, eat, walk and repeat. The 'sleep' bit I got just enough of but no complaints about that. The 'walk' bit I did enough and more - I would clock an average of 11/ 12 km a day. Now the 'eat' bit, oh I tried so much and still didn't try it all. I realized I ate every time my eyes came across something tempting which was almost every hour - croissants, baguettes, fresh charcuterie, cheese (oh the cheese!), fresh fruit tarts, macaroons and crepes (o la la) and happily, the calorie calculator was left back in India. I also realized then that the concept of the Knight in Shining Armour does exist. My Knight was the man with the crepes cart who appeared out of I don't know where at Place de la Concorde - It was windy and drizzling and I was freezing my ass off. Just as I started looking for a coffee shop to tuck into, I saw him; the steam from the stove on his cart drawing me closer and closer. The chocolate banana crepe he made was a life saver and for those few moments, I forgot about the cold and rain.

*PC - Priya Pillai

Nutella & banana crepes *PC - Priya Pillai

Fresh Fruit Tart *PC - Priya Pillai

The highlight of the 'eat' bit of my trip was the Wine and Cheese lunch I had at O Chateau, a wine bar in Paris which offers wine tasting packages. The package I had was to sample 5 wines from different regions of France combined with cheese, charcuterie and bread. I have been to Sula in Nashik and done a wine tasting there. We typically get a little bit of every wine that just about allows you to taste it. This was a totally different scene. As the group of 10 strangers sat down at the table, we were poured a glass of champagne - yes not a sample, a glass and I was thinking it's possibly because it is the first drink; it won't continue. I was proven wrong and how! As I just about finished my first glass of champagne, the sommelier came around and topped off my glass - that's right people; 2nd glass of champagne. This trend continue for every wine we had after that; because (and I quote my sommelier) "why waste an open bottle!". So there we were; 2 hours of the lunch - 8.5 glasses of wine and tons of bread, charcuterie and cheese later, we finished our happy conversation, wondering how we would carry on with our day.

Wine & Cheese Lunch at O Chateau *PC - Priya Pillai

*PC - Priya Pillai

*PC - Priya Pillai

*PC - Priya Pillai

My travel log for the three days included checking out the Louvre, walking the 2 km stretch of Champs Elysees, checking out the Eiffel Tower during the day as well as at night and climbing to the top of the Arc de Triomphe among other things. Touristy things in Paris, check.

This was a super start to my solo tripping journey and I am gonna ignore the few small things that went wrong. Paris was everything I had read about and more. Three days wasn't enough, France has a whole lot more :)

At the Louvre *PC - Priya Pillai

Climbing up the Arc de Triomphe *PC - Priya Pillai

Arc de Triomphe *PC - Priya Pillai

Notre Dame *PC - Priya Pillai

Eiffel Tower *PC - Priya Pillai

That Wonderland called A&N - Ramble 2: Dive!

Havelock Island was destination no 2 on my trip. It was definitely the most awaited part of my trip - my diving courses. Havelock island is just a small piece of paradise. Coconut trees everywhere, the salty air, beautiful beaches - all the marks of a great vacation already. I had signed up to dive with Dive India and I highly recommend them to anyone who wants to try diving at the Andamans in the future.

Now I think I am a water baby and it is beach over mountains any day for me. But being a water baby in a pool and being one in the ocean - very different things. The ocean is a completely different ball game. Day 0 in training has you filling out forms, watching a few videos and undergoing a snorkelling session to learn basic breathing etc. I easily drank a litre of sea water in that lesson itself. The first and most important lesson they teach and keep repeating is stay calm and breathe continuously. Trust me, it's not the easiest to do. Consciously breathing through the mouth takes time to master because the nose just flies into action all the time, even if it takes in sea water. Day 1 into training and at above shoulder level water, as we learned basic skills, I struggled to stay underwater as the fear of not being able to breathe was constantly playing on my mind. It took some time and a lot of patience from my instructor but it happened finally and we slowly moved towards our first dive spot. Now skills and lessons aside, it was an experience like no other. The ocean is another world in itself and you are a visitor which means you don't do anything to disrupt the life there. People say watching an aquarium calms you down, so imagine this. Schools of fishes swimming along, taking notice of you and then swimming away. A few curious ones come close and the even more curious ones leave a few bites on your legs (harmless though). I saw a whole bunch of fish whose names I never knew. Among the ones I knew, there were clownfish (Nemo), blue tangs (Dory), sting rays, Angel fish, lion fish, crabs, lobsters, eels, star fish and crazy types of coral from fan coral to stag horn coral to anemone (Nemo's home). I was lucky to see a turtle swim by, swim alongside a school of barracuda and spot two white tipped reef sharks. My deepest dive was 26 meters i.e. about 85 feet.

Descending into Dixon's Pinnacle, Havelock Island

Picture Courtesy - Dive India

On top of the reef at Dixon's Pinnacle (20 m below the surface)

Picture courtesy - Dive India

The happy bunch heading back to shore

Picture Courtesy - Dive India

One of the requisites for me to complete my Advanced Open Water certification was the dive I was dreading the most - a night dive. Now a night dive in the Andamans begins at 6 pm. I know you will wonder what's night about that but the sun goes done by 5:15 pm so 6 pm there is like 9 pm in Mumbai. I am not a big fan of darkness, in fact I am a highly claustrophobic so I need to see, feel and know space around me. I don't know how I convinced myself to not chicken out of it but I did. Per my course, I had to be in the water at a depth exceeding 6 meters for at least 20 minutes. As I put on my gear and entered the water, my instructor kept reminding - the ocean is a different playground at night so be careful and aware. With my gear on and hand held torch, I stepped into the water to discover a different set of species that emerge and active at nightfall. Sea urchins out of their holes, snakes slithering around and most fish happily tucked in their lairs. Now coz of my hand held torch my vision was only limited to as far as the torch went and mostly straight ahead of me. However, I was very well aware of the fact that there were more swimming behind and alongside me than in front and that fact was proven when I saw the long tail fin of a sting ray pass by me just about a foot away from the corner of my eye. Little panic build up and I proceed further. A few more poisonous fish were spotted and something inside me says you need to head back. Then suddenly came a school of fish that we couldn't identify immediately (but did later as a type of Indian Threadfin). While most fish keep safe distance from you, these guys seemed to be very attracted to the torch light and started getting too close for comfort. In seconds, we were surrounded by these fishes, each one being about 20 - 25 cm long. I could feel them swimming up close and brushing against my arms and feet and two of them got super up close to my face. Not wanting to attract any larger predators because of this school, we turned back and started heading towards our start point. The nasty buggers tried following us for a while before they headed back. The last part of our dive and the last straw for me was to sit of the ocean bed, torches turned off and to move our arms around to see the bio luminescent plankton. If you have seen Life of Pi and remember the scene where he watches the water glow (picture below), I got to witness something similar on a smaller scale of course but equally magnificent. But once seen, the darkness began to bother me a lot more and m torch was back on and I signalled my instructor that I was ready to head out. Never again a night dive, I told her - I plan to keep my word.

Scene showing bio luminescence from Life of Pi. 

Picture courtesy - indeepwaterblog.wordpress.com

The physical act of diving is extremely strenuous by itself and you need to know how to swim decently well. Don't believe your dive school if they say things like you can dive if you can swim comfortably for 10 ft and float for 10 mins. All this is easier done in the pool than the ocean. The ocean tests your stamina all the time and believe me you get so drained swimming a lap which could very well just be 15 ft in the ocean. My first dive was scary and fun. Scary coz we were taught so much and there is so much to take care of under water  besides just having the fear of being under water - your breathing, keeping your buoyancy at neutral, not using your hands to swim, correct posture for your legs, ensuring your ears pop are among the many many things one needs to constantly remember.  My later dives also introduced me to ocean currents and also taught me to stay steady while moving against them. I did well sometimes, failed miserably a few other times and kept getting dragged away. I got hit on the leg by my buddy's scuba tank, on the head by the fins of my buddy and scrapped my knees dozen of times through my dives. Rough, choppy water is a scary idea and takes one back to Hollywood movies of being stranded at sea. Try moving in one direction and the ocean throws a crazy wave at you and you end up paces away from where you even begin. My heart was constantly racing through each of my dives. I knew I was getting enough air and yet had the feeling of going breathless. I was very aware of the fact that I had water all around me with no shoreline visible and no railing to swim and hold on to. You need to constantly tell yourself that you are fine. Of course, I did have some Hollywood moments (again) as well wondering when the shark would come out of nowhere  and grab my leg. Thank god that didn't happen. The deep blue and extremely gorgeous ocean has a surprise for you with every dive. 

I had some severe struggles with the breathing, mask filling with water, extreme ear pain, few too many scraps and many others but the experience of each dive was worth it all. I am going to say it again the experience under water is like no other, though an hour in the ocean through each dive would feel like and go by like minutes. But don't take only my word for it - try it for yourself, dive!

That Wonderland called A&N - Ramble 1: That some place new

My last few vacations have been about doing something interesting or going some place interesting - I am glad I got to do both with this year's vacation. 

I chose to come to the Andaman and Nicobar islands located to the south east of the Indian mainland (for the geographically challenged). Most people I know asked me why this place. I have two answers to that - one, that I had heard it is extremely pretty and mostly untouched by modern civilization and two, I had registered to learn to dive here with a local SCUBA school. Now Andaman and Nicobar islands for me was as much a mystery as it probably is for many of you. I learned about it in school geography, marked it on a map for my exams, knew the capital was Port Blair etc. 

My little of reading in the last few months got me a little more up to speed with the place. For one, Andaman and Nicobar islands consist of 500+ islands of which just about 20 are open to tourists/ civilians. Some of the remaining are inhabited by tribes completely untouched by the 21st century and live a traditional way of life. Some tribes have also shown extreme aggression when approached by urban man and thereby it was decided to keep the islands only to them. Some of the islands form the Indian military's tri command centre - army, navy and air force due to its location and the remaining some are covered by dense forests and are supposedly uninhabited. 

I got a detailed history lesson when I was there but let me give you some highlights:
- There is evidence of some occupation by Indian rulers from different dynasties in the early 16th & 17th century and possibly prior
- The Andamanese people are among the many tribes who make the original inhabitants of this cluster of island
- The mid to late 18th century saw the colonization of the island by the Danish East India company who later sold rights to the islands to the British towards the end of the 18th century. 
- Merchant ships from Europe that passed through these waters making their way up to Calcutta faced a lot of difficulties around these parts; One being the tribe here which was extremely aggressive so if any ship stopped here to load fresh water or got caught here due to unpredictable weather, these tribes more often than not killed the crew. Two, there was also a danger from Malay pirates (very similar to the Somalian pirates of our times) who roamed these waters and plundered passing ships. The merchants congregation then wrote to the Queen seeking British help and security as they believed this was also part of the British colony.
- Around 1789, the British conducted a survey to seek the best place to set up a base in these islands ultimately choosing Chatham island, now Port Blair. It is believed that they soon abandoned that settlement as they could not adjust to the unpredictable weather and new types of diseases that arose.
- Some 60 years later, they relooked at the islands to build a now more permanent settlement and soon after also began work on the infamous Cellular Jail in Port Blair.
- Viper island, a few kms off the Port Blair coast served as the first prison for convicts in the Andaman islands. The Cellular jail was built after this.
- Interesting fact: All British jails which were put in place in remote locations to hold prisoners of war, convicts etc was always headed by a Doctor so he could look after the medical well being of prisoners and staff there. His second in command would be an engineer who would look after the upkeep of the place.
- Port Blair (earlier called Port Cornwallis, after Admiral Cornwallis of the British Navy) is named after Lt. Archibald Blair, one of the member of the two person commission sent here by the British to survey the place and choose a suitable site to build a base.
- In 1942, the islands were briefly taken over by the Japanese. This invasion was at first welcomed by the Indians living and working for the British troops there but later proved to be a mistake as the Japanese turned out to be far more cruel than the British.

Leaving all the facts aside, it makes for a gorgeous tourist destination. The flight from Mumbai is about 4 hours. As one lands into Port Blair, it is one of the few airports I have seen that has jungles on either side as the flight slowly descends out of the clouds. Make sure you grab a window seat and admire the spectacle of distinct color palettes as the flight is getting ready to land. The aqua blue sea, shimmering white beach and dark green tree cover is one of the most beautiful sights I had seen in a very long time and in India - such a happy feeling. As you get closer to the runway, the surroundings change to include a few buildings and homes - the markings of a city. However, Port Blair is not a city; at least not like the Mumbai, Delhi, Bangalore, Chennai we are used to. One can at best call it a small town with an airport. Small hotels for tourists to stay at before they head off to the islands which serve decent food and offer a comfortable stay. You know what impressed me the most about the place - cleanliness. My god, how spic and span it was. The only "trash" I saw were fallen leaves, flowers and fruit and possibly bird droppings. People here like to keep the city clean, my driver says to me; it is a matter of pride for us. Well, send some of them to teach the rest of us I say; we badly need it. 

Cellular Jail courtyard, Port Blair. PC - Priya Pillai

Cellular Jail, Port Blair. PC - Priya Pillai

Port Blair has a fair bit to see and also serves as a stop for tourists who want to head out to the islands. However, if you do have a day, there is Ross Island which is a boat ride across and shows remains of the time the Japanese took over this island during WWII. There is also the North Bay island which has the lighthouse which features on the 20 rupee note. Also there is the very famous/ infamous Cellular Jail. Many of us know it as Kala Paani jail. History has seen a big chunk of our freedom fighters being sent here. No, you wouldn't know most of them but they were here; living in abysmal conditions, made to work in inhuman conditions, beaten and tortured daily and mainly trying to get their spirit broken. The most famous inmate here (at least that I knew of) was Vinayak Damodar Savarkar or Swatantra Veer Savarkar as our history books would call him. The place is no longer how it used to be with several wings been destroyed over time. Let me tell you this though, it is eerie as ever. Even with a few hundred tourists around the spot, when you step into one of the open prison cells; you will get chills down your spine. Imagine if those doors were closed and locked you inside with that little window. Scary! Many would compare it to Alcatraz in SF and in many ways it was. This gigantic fortress with water surrounding it on most sides - it was rumoured to be one of those "can't break out off" jails. There are a few museums around that dole out details of the history of the place and its place in the history of India. My personal recommendation is the newly opened Kala Paani museum on the outskirts of the city. It has only opened a month ago and it is generally unknown to most people so much so that Trip Advisor does not feature it. It is a treasure house of information about the islands, its people and its place in history. Extremely informative and if you are lucky, the owner himself gives you a tour detailing out the research he conducted.

 Kala Paani Museum. PC - Priya Pillai

Japanese printed Indian currency during invasion. PC - Priya Pillai

Port Blair is fairly cosmopolitan with a high no of immigrants from West Bengal, Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh and Kerala. Hindi is the most commonly spoken language here followed by Bengali, Tamil and then local dialects. The Nicobar islands, I am told have more pronounced dialects. People are generally quite friendly with tourists as tourism seems to be the popular industry here. We landed on a Sunday and as luck would have it apart from the Sunday bazaar, all shops remain closed. Tourist spots too shut by 4:30 pm everyday. Not surprising though as the sun rises here by 5 am and sets by 5 pm. The island people begin their day by 6:30 am and wrap up by 4:30 pm. I was left wondering what to do when it is pitch dark at 5:30 pm. 

My next stop from here was the beautiful (and much awaited) Havelock island. My plan was to spend the next 8 days there and complete my Open Water as well as Advanced Diving course. Excited much!

The 30s Tamasha

Even before I delve into this post, I will confirm my stand that age is still a number for me. However the whole "getting older" cycle is showing me (and some of my friends) some signs of how life is slowly taking a different path. Being 30 and single is at the moment, a damn good phase of my life. I have the choice to design my life the way I want. However, the last few months I have seen some very obvious changes in my lifestyle and strangely many of my friends echo the same. Wondering if this is my start to ranting as a crabby old lady, hmmm but anyway; I know many others who echo these sentiments.

My sleep is extremely important for me - Not taking away the fact that it always was, however now I deliberately run away from late nights. I have no qualms making excuses to skip a dinner or late night movie esp on a weekday. I will still head out on a Friday or Saturday night but bring up a plan on a weekday and I go *facepalm* "no way Jose".

I have my choice of music that I want to listen to and I am easily awkward to the point of being hopelessly bored in a place that plays new age pop. It is embarrassing enough to try and Shazam the song and then read the details and figure "Damnnnn, who is Nikyee Heaton ???". Similarly I love the feeling of showing off my Michael Jackson knowledge and (don't judge me) boy band knowledge to those 90s born kids who never had a boy band poster in the bedroom and drooled over it (Fine, guilty again!)

I choose comfort above all. Be it my wardrobe or shoes, comfort triumphs all. Stylish comes a close second but now I see myself eyeing those 5 inch heels and going "I waaaaannnnnttttt but damn how my legs will kill me".

I have started to ensure I have a complete blood and the works check up done every 6 months and so. I also have taught myself to understand what all those numbers in those reports mean. I know that's no biggie, most people know that but it's a new one for me. Similarly I care a bit more about staying fit; I consciously try and avoid the junk that I love so much. I just realised its been two months since I had Joey's pizza *sob sob*

Although, there are a few things I have picked up when I was closing in on the 29/30 age mark which I am quite happy about. I have started to enjoy heading out and doing things on my own - watching plays for example. I like the solitude of my own company sometimes. I have picked up a cause that I feel very strongly about and am trying to do my bit. 

So what do you think, age or just laziness 😁 My brain keeps swinging between the two; I think it's usually an amalgamation of the two. 

You know how people make such a big deal about the whole "turning 30" bit; take it from me it is still just a number. Being happy in your own space triumphs all other feelings. Of course, sometimes the higher the number, the better it is - be it in a salary package or a bottle of wine 😜

Tatksang Monastery and the "behind the scenes" of that trek

It's been 6 months since our trip to that beautiful mountain kingdom of Bhutan and now ask anyone I know, I shamelessly promote tourism to that country. One thing I tried to do when I started on my trip was to maintain a diary of my day to day experiences in Bhutan - I feel bad to say that I failed miserably. The detailed posts only lasted 3 days and the rest were notes and scribbles of thing I found very interesting. This morning, I found that diary hidden and forgotten among some HR books and in that was a detailed description of the most amazing day I had in Bhutan - the climb to the Tatksang Monastery. While I gave the essence of it in my Bhutan post a few months ago, I definitely feel the need to put down the details of this particular day; so here we go.

As we arrived into Paro the previous evening, we were already mesmerized by the pristine beauty of this country. The stories of green mountains, rolling fog, beautiful trees from the fairy tales seemed very real here. 7:45 am, the next day and we were ready to go; this was the part we were looking forward to - the climb to the Tatksang Monastery. The Tatksang Monastery or Tiger's Nest Monastery as it is popularly known is built along a cliff in the Upper Paro valley. The story I was told goes: Guru Rinpoche arrived on this cliff on the back of a flying Tigeress from Tibet and meditated here for 3 years, 3 months, 3 weeks and 3 days in a cave, thus anointing the spot to build a monastery there. He is considered the Protector Saint of Bhutan and according to some, is believed to have introduced Buddhism to the region.  

A little after 8 am and we found ourselves at the car park at the base of the mountain. Our guide + driver Kinzang had come prepared with sticks to help us hike. This trail is like no other - Cut through the mountains just enough to be a path, it is rugged, rocky and if it rains, the mud turns to slush, turning the trail into a slippery slide. The trail does not start off easy; right from the base, it is rough. Your eyes need to be focused on the path ahead; you never know when one stray root or stone can knock you down. Heaven forbid, if you tumble a few steps far too left, you will find yourself rolling down the side of the valley. Having said that, everyone attempting the climb was very enthusiastic at the start. About a km into the climb and my sister decides that she cannot continue. No amount of pushing and prodding from me or Kinzang helped. She decided to head back down to the base and wait while we returned. 

My climb wasn't any easier. For one, I climbed a few kms ahead and threw up all my breakfast at the side of the mountain. For another, the mountains gave me a damn good reality check of my fitness level; the result - extremely unfit. I stopped every few kms to let my body relax and recuperate. The trek has two major stops before you reach the monastery; commonly called view point 1 & 2. The climb to the first view point was tough, very tough. After about 3/4th of the journey to the first view point, the monastery shows itself from across the valley, hidden slightly in the fog. What kept me going, apart from my determined desire to see the monastery were the people along the route. Believe me, you do find people who are more or less in your situation - huffing, puffing, stopping every few minutes. The encouragement I received was tremendous. Random strangers pushing you to keep going and you, in turn encouraging the other tired souls. The guides also keep you entertained with stories and legends from the place - how you need to make a trip to the monastery 3 times to have a deep desire fulfilled, how these mountains have also been the death place of tourists who have gone over the edge while taking pictures. 

The first view point arrives and I am so mighty proud of myself, am almost celebrating with a victory dance; although I know I still have a long way to go. The Monastery is now clearly visible, a valley away. As we were reaching there, my guide gets a call from the tourist office at the base that my sister has asked for a horse and will be arriving at the first view point in a while. As horses are allowed only up to this point, we had to wait before before we proceeded. Meanwhile, Kinzang told me of how all Bhutanese people including the Royal family make it to the monastery on foot. No horses or other preferential treatment for anyone. There are also a group of people who make the trip every week or sometimes twice a week carrying food supplies to the monks living there. Yep, my mind was officially blown. Carrying my own weight there was bad enough for me, now imagine doing that with a 50 kg bag of rice on your bag. Respect! My sister arrived 45 minutes later and meanwhile, I soaked in every bit of fresh mountain air that my lungs could take. The serenity is unbeatable. The chattering noises from the tourists resting here only lasts a while and the silence takes over again. 

As we continued onward, I could distinctly feel the air getting thinner making it harder and harder to breathe. My legs were no longer the problem. The nose and forehead has started throbbing, all signs of high altitude and cold weather. The energy to carry on was there but breathlessness became a concern for me. They say this can be taken care of by having altitude sickness medicine before you start your trip to such places. My sister had had some and I didn't and maybe that's why I felt this much more than her. A few short and deep breaths helped me make it every 100 steps. View point 2 was my short term goal -  On making it there, I would decide if I wanted to continue 350 steps down and 350 steps up to the monastery or I would be content with the view from there. A bite of an energy bar and some huffing and puffing later, view point 2 had arrived. The monastery was closer and in full view but still a valley across. The view is magical. Gleaming and glittering in the sunlight, it was beckoning everyone towards it. A little break to relax and take pictures and Kinzang had started egging us to move quickly. 

It was nearly 12 pm and the monastery shuts at 1 for lunch; which meant we would need to wait for an hour if we reached late. How I climbed down those rickety, half broken stone steps and back up again, I don't know but we made it. At 12:30 pm, we were at the monastery door. It is when you arrive at the spot that you fully realize the brilliance behind the construction of the place. Standing so precariously on the side of the cliff, it is almost floating in the air. I kept wondering how they managed to construct in the first place almost centuries ago and again recently about a decade or so ago, when the monastery caught fire and some parts had to be rebuilt. We quickly went from room to room and spent a few seconds in quiet reflection. All my thoughts were all and only in gratitude. I took a few seconds to peek down from one of their balcony area; you only see a never ending valley. The 4 hour trek up culminated in 30 minutes of seeing the monastery and it was time to head back down. Heading down is intense pressure on your knees and ankles but takes you far lesser time than climbing up. There are quite a few shortcut, very steep ones for the climb up mind you; that we avoided earlier and we happily took on the way down. 

Two hours flat and we were back where we started. You couldn't rub the smiles off our faces as hard as you tried. I knew my legs were going to give the minute I reached home but for now there was no pain. It was now time of an well deserved meal and more deserved rest. People visit the monastery for many reasons and to have many desires fulfilled; for me it was to see the sheer beauty of this place. For that and only that reason, I am always ready to go back to Bhutan.

Feeling Grateful; Thank You 2015

2015 has been an eventful year for me, to be honest maybe a little more bad than good and so I am happy to say goodbye to the year. Don't get me wrong, I am also very thankful for this year - I learned a lot about myself this year and for that I owe 2015 a big one.

While a certain big life event didn't go down as planned, I watched as my family and I struggled to understand why this happened. We handled it our own way which was sometimes good and many times not. It's funny how we put on a brave face for those around and think no one will notice how it is bothering you. I tried that too, who wants to show that he/ she is hurt and troubled but my parents showed me strength and support that I couldn't imagine. Same stands for my extended family too For that among all the other million things that they gave me, I am so grateful.

This year, I managed to keep to one of my personal fundas of "visiting one new country" and ticked off Bhutan from my bucket list. It was one of my most memorable trips and I believe it will stay so for a long time.It was 10 days away from my laptop and with minimal internet and only being around nature in the most pristine state that I had probably seen it. I understood the idea of being happy regardless of how much you have from the Bhutanese and I am grateful to them for that.

As my sister and I made our way through Bhutan, I rediscovered my travel buddy in her. We were doing a trip together, just the two of us after 2012. We squabble, yell, laugh, eat, drink, argue, gossip and do so much together. Yes, there are times we do not want to see each other's face but we never stop planning our next trip. For that and all the memories coming up, I am very grateful.

2015 was the year when I stepped into the so called dreaded 30s. When I was still in school, I remember thinking of people who were 30 to be well, old for one and just belong to another planet I guess. Everyone around also puts you in the spotlight as the birthday approaches - when are you going to get married, what are you planning to do with your life etc - so many questions come flying your way. I am not one to care for age, it always was and continues to be a number for me. Let me tell you, it's been 3.5 months since the 30s came around; it feels no different. As I looked back over the 20s that I have left behind, I am grateful for the wonderful memories and the awesome people I have met - you know who you are.

This year has shown me what a massive support system I have in my bunch of friends. They may not be in the same city, hell they may not even be in the same country but they are always there. No, we do not talk everyday or every week and that's fine but when things were down, they were with me every step of the way. So very grateful for them!

So, in all yes the year has been bitter-sweet but the lessons are massive and here to stay. As we step into 2016, I am not sure of any resolutions I want to take up yet but one thing is for sure I am hoping for health, happiness, laughter, fun, madness, success, travel and so much more for all these beautiful people in my life.

Bhutan Diaries: Snippets from the Land of the Thunder Dragon

My annual holiday for 2015 has happened and so has one more tick on my wishlist of items. This was a vacation I had on my mind for a long, long time - I read up like crazy about it, hunted through every article on TripAdvisor, hounded every person who I knew had visited the place n got info; yes we get crazy like that and at last it was time to go - The land of happiness, Bhutan was calling. So a flight to Bagdogra and then a 5 hour drive got us to the border town of Phuentsholing and then began our adventure. One of the biggest advantages for Indians travelling here is that there is no visa needed - you enter with your passport or election card. We managed 5 cities/ towns in 10 days: Paro, Thimphu, Punakha, Bumthang and Phobjikha.

The border gate from Phuentsholing - Photo Credit: Pooja Pillai

So why is a country that borders India such a mystery and so intriguing ? Maybe because until a few years ago, very little was known about the country and its people; maybe because there is still an semi active monarchy which is loved and revered by the people, maybe because they take a lot of care with regard to modernization of the country while holding on to their tradition and more importantly preserving the environment making so damn pretty. We got to experience all of this first hand and there is no disappointment through any bit of the trip and these are my highlights:

- The whole country is pretty, period. No arguments, no however, nothing - everywhere you look, your eyes will first catch a vast patch of green, then perhaps a bit of mountain and then whatever else is there.
- The people are among some of the nicest I have come across - The men don't ogle at women walking on the street, people are willing to help you in case of anything and they genuinely want you to have a good time in their  country. They are also probably some of the only few left who genuinely adore Indians and India. They get a lot of help in terms of resources, food even military support from India. They do a damn good job of using it I have to say; wonder what stops us (stupid question, know the answer).
- Bhutan has a monarchy and the king and queen are adored by the public. I didn't hear one person say anything against them or complain about them. In fact, they were more than eager to tell us of all the wonderful things the royal couple does for the public - how they visit remote, far away villages and check on people, how they are accessible to the general public in case of any trouble, how they create and offer so many opportunities regarding education and jobs for their people. Working for the government is an extremely prestigious job there... imagine that!
- The food there is different from most others - cheese and chillies are the core ingredients in most of their dishes. Most Bhutanese enjoy raw chillies with their food. You can be a little daring and try that as well - really helps with the cold weather.
- The Bhutanese stick to their national dress; Gho for the men and Kira for the women. They are expected to wear this at all government offices and jobs. Once in a while, you will come across someone not following the dress code.
- I saw no beggars on the street, no jokes.
- There are no traffic signals in any city or town - again, no jokes
- The country is covered with prayer flags. Lundaar as it called in Dzongkha literally translated means wind flags. They say that flags are a way to spread good wishes and prayers - when someone puts up a flag in his/ her premises, the wind carries blessings and wishes to all those in the path of the wind and the owner in turn gets wishes in return.

Photo Credit: Pooja Pillai

The highlight of this trip for me (and therefore I will elaborate on this), that one place I was most looking forward to visit was Taktsang Lhakhang or the Tiger's Nest Monastery in Paro. Nestled high up in the mountains, it seems to be in another world by itself. We were advised to start early to avoid the harsh sun. A little past 8 am and we were at the base all ready to begin. The souvenirs stalls were still setting up and we saw a few others arriving at the parking lot too. We grabbed our walking sticks and set off - we were a party of 3; our driver cum guide Kinzang, my sister and I. The trail is rugged to begin with - it doesn't fool by being nice and easy at the start. I don't know what I should call it - a road, a trail, some what of a path ?? Simply put, it seems like some amount of rock was cut away from the mountain so people can walk up vs climb up. The road is muddy, uneven, rocky, winding and has different levels of incline - God help you if you are like me and shirked away from working out and building up stamina before your trip. 25 minutes into our walk and my sister had already started showing signs of turning back. I pushed her to continue but about half a km later, she decided to turn back and wait for me in the parking lot. No amount of senti worked so I continued with the guide (She did however meet us at the first view point later; she took a horse to reach there).

As we walked up further, we are in full range of the sun and it was bright and hot that day. Slowly the jackets came off and sweat start to appear. My energy levels were dropping and I had to slow down - I could feel my stomach churn and within minutes, my breakfast and tea was out at the side of the mountain. I think I was more embarrassed than sick at the point. However, the beauty of this place and this trek was that people around you seemed to understand the exertion your body is going through. As they walked by, some offered advice - sit down, relax, take it easy; some offered support - don't be worried, these things happen, you will make it, don't stop, it will be worth it; and some offered water. All gestures appreciated of course. Let me not get into the entire story but it took me 4 hours to reach up there and it was totally totally worth it. The view is extraordinary, the monastery fills you up with such peace and the pride you feel for yourself having made it so far is unbeatable.

Taktsang Lakhang - Photo Credit: Pooja Pillai

This country for me defined peace and tranquility; even in the capital city of Thimphu, where we saw "crowd" per say. Fair warning though - when and if you visit Phuentsholing, you will think you are still in India - the crowd is crazy, there are beggars in the streets, dirty roads etc so do not include that in your Bhutan experience. But step out of this city, a few kms into the country and a strange calmness comes over you and it stays with you throughout. One of the best things for me was the fact that I had no network on my phone through most of my trip and while, we had a Bhutanese SIM; we stuck to basic calling facilities. I managed well without internet and whatsapp and Facebook - I loved getting WiFi intermittently. I read a fair amount, wrote a bit and more than anything soaked in every breath of clean air my lungs could take in.

I now go around recommending Bhutan to any person who is half interested and I am going to do the same here. Bhutan should be on every person's list, at least before it becomes too crowded and commercial. It is a destination like no other and the experience leaves you wanting more - I know I want to go back; there's a lot left to be explored.

I am a 'didi' now

Such a long time since I put pen to paper, so to speak. Truth be told, writer's block hit me bad. I think I began functioning like a machine, doing my daily tasks as they came along, living out my social life as if it were a compulsion and "enjoying the moment" was not part of any of these. I feel bad that I let the last few months go by like that. But all is not lost. One good thing that I did in the last few months was sign myself up for a very interesting project. To give you a bit of background, I have been toying with the idea of signing up with an NGO for a few years now. So many NGOs out there taking up so many worthy causes and while each of them interested me; be it animal welfare or environmental conservation or even education, none of them really called out to me like this particular one.

It is called the Lighthouse Project and it is an initiative that connects educated urban youth with children from under resourced communities through one on one mentoring thus giving both parties an opportunities to explore a world outside their own. This initiative called out to me as it goes beyond just stepping into the class and teaching but works at showing kids the practicality of what they learn and how to use it. We get to share our experiences and all the training we went through with these kids and contribute our bit in their all round development. Look them up - www.lighthouseproject.in

I got a chance to meet my mentee a few days ago and it was better than I expected. I was pulled back into the world of a 9th grader - of cribbing about homework, school teachers and classroom "rivalry". Her stories were non stop - "that girl is my 'enemy', you shouldn't talk to her also didi"; "that boy is my best friend, sometimes he copies from me"; "i hate maths" - and in my mind I do a double back flip and praise the lord, I don't need to help her with that because you know math... yuccckkk.

However, I also saw another side of her; one that wanted to go beyond the school and the studies, one that was so curious of how an office works; how she loves playing football and she is the goal keeper for her school team; her three repetitions of her understanding of what I do for a living;   - all these conversations were in whispers while our project coordinators were briefing us. Yep, I wasn't one of those who talked when class was on; it was a flashback to college for me. I saw her get excited to learn about colleges, career options, learn about different countries and learn to speak super English as she put it. She was extremely insistent on me visiting her class as well and as I walked in, she points out to the first bench and says "Didi, I sit here; because I keep on talking na" - big grin!

The past Saturday marked day one of the start of us learning together. I already find myself constantly looking for interesting projects that we could do together; looking up suggestions how best to help her and more than often, thinking of ways of spending time together so she doesn't get bored in the first 10 minutes. Scary to feel the burden of responsibilities of a teacher without actually being one; wonder if our teachers from school & college felt it as much too. I can foresee some interesting incidents in the upcoming months; can't wait!

I walked into the school and I am greeted by her big, big smile - "I was waiting for you only didi" and thus it begins! 

Jump !

It's been a while since an idea/ event has registered so strongly in my mind that I needed to pen it down. Having recently returned from a massive five week vacation to the US and London (yes, i know so many of you are cursing me for the five week vacation); I managed to do one thing that was on my bucket list for the longest time - Skydive.

I do not consider myself to be an adventure sports junkie - I do not need to jump off a aircraft or go wreck diving or bungee jumping but I do have a few activities on my bucket list and Skydiving was definitely one of them. To let you in on a little secret (and my family will agree), I get petrified of climbing up on a stool at home to remove stuff kept in higher shelves and cupboards - my feet tremble and I have the constant feeling of falling and cracking my skull. So how skydiving landed on my list I don't know and I can't explain but I only knew I had to do it once.

The planning for this started at almost the same time as the planning for the trip itself. I looked up every place I was visiting and researched sky diving centres there. I finally settled on the idea of doing this at my last destination in the US & my last big adventure in the vacation there, so Miami was the chosen one and The Miami Sky Diving centre was best one I found. I kid you not I must have visited their website at least 20 times in 3 days to read reviews people posted, videos of tandem dives, prices, the whole shebang. Once I was convinced, I began persuading my sister to do a dive too. Once in a lifetime experience I said and what's the worst that can happen - you die .. Of course we discussed a whole lot of worse scenarios but yeah a little convincing later she was on board too. Now the difficult part - telling my parents who were going to be with us in Miami. I thought and thought about it and then decided not to tell them; atleast not at that moment. We made the appointment for the tandem dive - where an instructor dives with you, paid the advance and then a few weeks before we were to leave, we broke the news. They laughed, thought we were kidding, realized we weren't but luckily no drama. My mother seemed quite kicked by the idea actually.

Fast forward to the day of the dive. My sister and I made our way to the airport - a long cab ride away from Downtown Miami. There is no feeling of anxiety or fright or happiness even; it's a little early in the morning and we are still sleepy. We are made to sign a whole bunch of forms which basically say "dude, this is entirely your idea and we are only here to help... so if things go south up there (literally); your family (and you, if you survive somehow) can't sue us. Thank you very much - enjoy your dive". My sister actually reads through each point and comes up with questions; me, I sign blindly. So the instructors/ tandem divers are here and we are getting geared up and we head to the aircraft.I believe that your instructor is super super important esp if this is your first dive since you go in with no expectation. As brave as you are, nerves start to set in and you need someone to talk you through. My instructor has been skydiving for 33 years and done over 8500 jumps. It's just like any office job he says 9 - 5 types (yeah right). The aircraft is a little box, and I am not exaggerating. It correctly fit 5 people - the pilot, my sister, I and our tandem instructors. Superbly uncomfortable with minimal place to stretch your legs and I am 5 ft nothing - I wonder how the taller people manage. My instructor has already given me a low down on what needs to be done once we are out of the aircraft - hands crossed across the chest, head back, back arched.. Sure sure it's simple. As the aircraft takes off, the excitement builds, it's finally happening. My instructor chats away non stop, asking all kinds of questions - where are you form, so where all are you travelling to, do you have family here, tell me about India, the weather in Miami etc.

By the time I finished answering his questions and posing for random pictures on his go pro (for the insurance guys, he says and laughs), we are at 10000 ft and my sister's tandem instructor has thrown open the aircraft door. When the wind hits your face, is when you know - damn this is happening. My sister was closer to the door therefore was the first to jump; one awkward smile to each other and the next moment she was gone. Holy hell - this is really happening. So I inch closer to the door, the wind hitting my face harder and i listen to my instructor telling me to put my legs out of the aircraft. I do and before I know it - I am free falling. Not a moment to think he gave me and I am glad he didn't. As we free fall and I scream, my instructor screams with me - its adds to the fun he says. Let me just say, the free fall of 25-30 seconds seems to be much much longer. So many thoughts crossing my mind - will the parachute open, will I crash into the ground below, haven't I reached 5000 ft yet, damn I am way up high, wow what a view and so much more and of course my instructor kept his chattering up with ohh look you can see the beach from here (yeah, like I was going to look at the beach as I plummet to the ground). Suddenly I feel a tug and the free fall has dropped speed and now I am gliding with the wind. Praise the lord, the parachute has opened - arms wide open and safety glasses off, I finally start appreciating the scenery so to speak. I finally look ahead straight and see the beach, look around and the instructor tells you those are the Keys. My instructor suddenly asks, you want to try some stunts - Hell yeah and two somersaults later my head is reeling & my heart is racing but I am thinking holy hell, somersaults in the air - awesome. I look down below and I can see my sister gliding closer to the ground and ready to make a landing. We prepare to land too and 2 minutes later I can see the ground inching closer. Feet up he shouts, we are supposed to land on our ass. Not the smoothest landing but injury free and I am glad.

An unforgettable 4-5 minutes of my life has now ended and I am grinning. All that we thought of and imagined all these months and we are done - the experience is ours to hold on to. The rush is unbeatable, I can't explain it. Was it scary, hell to the yes but was it worth it - totally and more.My recommendation for your bucket list - go jump ! 

My latest read - Remember the Time

In the last few weeks, I have been invading Flipkart and bookstores more often than usual and overstocking my bookshelf. I am not a single genre person; I have tried most with an exception to sci-fi which hasn't yet caught my fantasy. Autobiographies & biographies have become a favorite in the last few years although I can't credit myself for having read too many.

My latest acquisition was something I was particularly excited about and from the time it was delivered to time, I took about 5 - 6 hours and lapped it all up. It is the latest book of on my absolute favorite artists - MJ; called Remember The Time.

His life has always interested me and I have tried to read all I could find about him. This latest book, written by his body guards is an interesting read for one main reason - I don't see them glorifying Michael Jackson for the mega star that he was. The real experiences they had as they protected him during the final two odd years of his life reads as honest and at some points even bitter. He was beyond the regular description of famous, he was a living legend. His music appealed to every section of section and his story of hard work and success right from the Jackson 5 to his solo career making generated interested in all the tabloids. Unfortunately many remember him more for the controversies that surrounded him starting from the late 80s and early 90s.

The book is very easy reading; It is almost like they are sitting across the room and narrating the story to you between sips of chai. It is a long story and yes they give out a lot of details which may make you believe that the book loses paces in some chapters. It is a different perspective (according to me at least) as most of the usual pieces/ books on him focus on the court cases against him on the child molestation counts and all the crazy stuff the media rumored him to be be involved in - sleeping in a special chamber to maintain his youth etc. This book shows a very harsh reality of his final years; where he struggled financially and on the personal front as well. It explains so much of his paranoia - you wouldn't imagine these scenes occurring in the life of a man loved by billions across the world. It talks about how he didn't have a home of his own and was continuously on the move to get away from the glare of the paparazzi; how his life focused only on his children and making music for himself because that made him happy; how they saw him make mistakes in trusting the wrong people as they led him down the wrong path and they couldn't say or do anything. The writers i.e. his body guards continuously reiterate how he always wanted to be left alone with his family.

The book on the whole, leaves you sad; I have to admit (at least I was sad) but there are also glimpses of the small joys in life - beyond the money and the fame. More than anything, there is the realization that actors, singers, artists etc are all human at the end of the day - Their lives, fortunately or unfortunately are no different from us regular people. RIP Michael Jackson !

Ready, set, go !!

The last few months I have been trying to become more and more regular at the gym. I am still not regular; I do one week well and then I say I deserve some time off and take the next week off :P One of the new years resolutions every year is obviously to stay healthy and work out regularly but one very important on the list for 2013 was to run a marathon. Now what I had managed to do was sign for the Mumbai Marathon 2014; but it didn't fit my "2013" resolutions. So one weekend in early November; I came across a marathon hat was happening in Mumbai called Pinkathon. The idea behind this run was to promote awareness about breast cancer and it was an all womens' run. It sounded perfect and I signed up without thinking about it too much. I got my confirmation email for the payment and the distance - 5 km.

5 km... sounded simple and I was already on a fairly regular workout schedule so 5 km run - no big deal. See that's called stupidity, major stupidity. I decided that I must obviously improve my run time and pace besides the regular gym workout so I cut off cardio in the gym and decided to start running on the streets. The next day, my alarm rang at 6 am and I jumped out of bed all excited to begin. Tracks on, shoes on and I head out. a brisk walk to start off for 2 mins and I slowly break into a jog. I breeze past the regular morning walkers on the road and in my mind I smirk. But my jog was not a jog; I ran and 45 secs later I was huffing and puffing at the side of the road. So now the same walkers were walking past me with a smile that said " geez amateurs !". My smirk had obviously disappeared; maybe my mind had too... I could feel a throbbing in my brain, my heart, my legs, my ribs..  I could almost hear the 'thud, thud, thud'. Lesson learned - research is needed and I am no Mickey Mehta. So it begins - the countless searches on Google; how to run 5 km in one month, how to run 5 km in 6 weeks, dummies guide to waking up early to work out (yes, i found that too) - these are bookmarked on my laptop. A timetable to record running time was made in MS Word, printed and pasted on my wardrobe, where I religiously recorded my run time.I slowly started building stamina. The run time began increasing from 3 minutes to 6 minutes to 11 minutes till I could manage about 15 - 18 minutes at a go. Now seasoned runners, I know you may think ' Pfft 15 - 18 minutes, whatever !!' but I m proud. The pride you feel when you run and are not huffing and dying at the end - Unmatchable. The day of the run was a night away and excitement was building.

5 30 am is assembly time at the BKC grounds in Mumbai where we first start off with Zumba. It was awesome to see women from all walks of life, all ages groups, all parts of the city come together for this cause. Each one surely had their own agenda too to prove to themselves maybe, their families perhaps - I could feel the anticipation and excitement. I saw little girls all geared up to run; with no clue about the marathon but for them it was like just another sports day. I saw women probably over 60 years, all clad in their sweaters and Nike shoes catching each beat of the Zumba workout and all pepped up to run; some had signed up for the 10 km run - Impressed !

Now I have to say when the 5 km run started, you have no choice but to walk the first 500-600 meters coz the group is still all huddled together and people are getting warmed up. Then all those days of early morning waking and running and keeping track of time pushes every muscles in your body to begin your run. It feels perfect. Pleasant and somewhat chilled Mumbai air in your face, the clear roads of BKC (cordoned off by the organizers for the run) and hundreds of fellow runners each one pushing the other to run. As I run and run, I look at each corner and turn of the road thinking so 'we turn back from here and head back'; 'maybe here we turn back', ' I hope here we turn and head back' .. Dude, 5 km is long. Now I did my research (via Google maps) to understand what 5 km was. From home to JW Marriott and back, home to my school n back; didn't seem so long.. ho jayega no problem !! Whole different story when you actually run.

As we began to turn back to the start point, something inside kicks starts inside you and pushes you to run. Each time I stopped to walk, that inner voice yelled and said "Come one lazy bum, move it.. think of all the days you sacrificed sleep and went for a run". Apart from this cheerleader (/??), there were a whole guys standing along the end hooting and cheering us to run. Yep the finish line was approaching. I broke in my final run determined to stop only once I cross the line. About a 100 meters away and I see the line, clearer than anything around - a whole bunch of people screaming and shouting, the dhol walas at the finish were getting louder and louder ( yes there were dhol walas ). But my inspiration suddenly leaped multifold when I saw Milind Soman stand at the finish line clapping and cheering. A few steps away and I thrust whatever energy I had left and pushed myself through the finish line.

I was there, it was done... Over ... Completed !! I can't describe the joy I felt and can you imagine how much it grew when Milind came around giving us high-fives !! *gleee*

As the day turns !

She sits straight, her lean frame not quite filling the chair. The mirror looks larger than life. A typical woman's dresser this is - a few skin creams, hair brushes and combs neatly sorted into a tall wicker basket, a few exotic bottles of perfume stand proud; Chanel, Christian Dior, Estee Lauder. They look to distract her, those glistening bottles with mystical coloured liquids with aromas which will fill up the room. Today however, they do not catch her eye. She digs into her dresser drawer and pulls out an pouch. Black cowhide leather with a silver zipper and a metal brand logo on the zip hook; The intertwined LV is not unknown - Louis Vuitton. She scrambles through its contents and pulls out a golden tube clearly marked concealer. She dabs on little dots starting under her eyes and moves on to different sections of her face. A few times of dabbing with the make up pad and the skin is clear. A cover layer of foundation - one tone lighter than skin colour they say, and her skin is perfect. A dash of kohl to brighten up her eyes and some bright gloss on her lips. She is now content with her face.

She shuffles through her wardrobe and picks out her straight legged jeans; figure hugging one may add. They feel snug - good choice. A full sleeve black tee makes it way out next. The thought of facing hot Indian summer does cross her mind but no bother. Now dressed to take on the day, she makes her way to the living room where her little daughter is happily munching on her toast, smudges of strawberry jam smeared on her face, fingers and some on the table too. The little one smiles wide revealing a gap in a mouth where there should have been two front teeth. "Look Mamma, she says; I am all dressed today and waiting for you. You are late today". The little one's naughty smile is hard to ignore, "yes baby, Mamma is late... and you are a good girl. Hurry and finish eating; it's time for school." The little one runs into her arms and while she is being lifted, her mamma groans; "what happened mamma" and her mamma smiles and replies "you are becoming a big girl darling, mamma is not strong to carry you". The drive to school was filled with the little one's chatter - from singing to a popular film song to stories about school and friends. She glances from time to time at the little one through the Oakley sunglasses and absentmindedly responds to her questions. Once she is dropped off, her day begins.She heads out to the local super market to pick up ingredients for the day's menu. She looks through the veggies sections hunting for the freshest produce. Chicken for her little one who loves it so much is next on her list. A few other items are dropped into the shopping cart and its off to the cash counter. On her way back as she stops at the signal, she looks at the little children begging on the road and her mind rushes back to her little one. How would that little one manage without her, she wonders and then immediately brushes that thought off. She is uneasy as she drives back, she struggles at every signal to adjust herself in her seat. As she steps of her car, carrying her grocery bags, the scarf stays around her neck and sunglasses on her face. "She thinks she is some celebrity", the neighbours snicker behind her back.

She gets through her day; cleaning her home, getting the meals ready etc. She has help but she wants to do it herself. She needs the distraction she thinks, the mind needs to be occupied. The minutes and hours on the clock seem to be flying by and the little one comes skipping home. The until now silent house is filled with laughter again. The world seems different again, with music and dancing and giggles. She always looks forward to all the time she has with her little one. As the skies grow dark, she feeds her little one and puts her to bed while narrating stories of princes and princesses and happiness in a land far far away.

Her mind's uneasiness begins to surge again. The feeling is not unfamiliar; it is a daily occurrence. The knot in her stomach grows heavier. As she washes the makeup off her face, the marks are visible now. The bruises have changed colour under the layer of makeup and through the day; a tinge of purple now. Smiling hurts her but she had to. As she changes into her night clothes, the burn mark on her right hand from her hand being held under hot water is evident. Tears fill up her eyes as she looks at it and remembers how she struggles to carry her little one. Her back reveals vertical lines, the leather belt has left signs from last night and some nights prior to that. She shudders as her eyes fall on the grandfather clock. It is almost 9 pm. He will be home anytime; she worries, I wonder what his mood will be like; will his eyes be burning with rage like last night.. Will he be drunk like last night when he lashed at me with his belt and then simply passed out on the bed ... I wonder what will irk him today, the items at the dinner table today or the clothes I am wearing or just the look of my face. What ordinary household item will turn into a tool of torture for me ? What about me angers him to a point beyond sensibility where beating me seems like the only option ... I cannot scream else my little one will wake; she does not need to see this. The tears don't stop as she replays every scenario from last night, the bruises never stop hurting, she struggles to breathe. She wants to find a corner to hide but it never helps; she wants it to stop but it never does.

As her mind continues to imagine what fresh hell is going to fall upon her tonight, the door bell rings... he's here !!