Annapurna Circuit- The last 2 days

At the start of our Annapurna Circuit Trek, our affable guide, R K Gurung, gave us a lot of useful tips on how to make the climb less strenuous. We all knew, however, that the final two days would test our endurance to the limit. Fast forward, 5 days later, and we found ourselves at Yak Khyrkha, the destination before we reach Thorong Phedi- from where we would summit the Thorong-la pass at 5400 metres. 

 Thorong Phedi or High Camp?

At Yak Khyrkha, there are no mobile networks, no functional Wi-fi services (which are available at almost all camps en route to Thorong-la) and no telephones. Let your loved ones know that you will not be able to contact them for the next two-three days, said Aising, one of the other guides.  Quite noticeably, concerned faces replaced tired ones. Located at around 4100 metres above sea level, Yak Khyrkha is not really a place you’d want to spend more than a night. There’s precious little to do and the mind starts getting restless- let’s get on with it, it says incessantly. Patience is tested aplenty and why not, after all we’d trekked nearly 80kms in the past 4 days. We had climbed, descended, climbed, descended, encountered good weather, bad weather, biting cold and what not! We were itching to complete the trek!

A debate sparked during the late hours of the evening- should we trek to Thorong Phedi and camp there tomorrow? Or should we go even higher to Thorong High Camp? After a heated discussion, the guide decided that we should camp at Thorong Phedi which was at 4500 metres. The Thorong High Camp which was 400 metres higher was my preferred choice and I was not happy about the decision. I did communicate my unhappiness to the Gurung, but the decision had already been made.

The Trail To Thorong Phedi 

The trek from Yak Khykha to Thorong Phedi was mostly uneventful except for one particular stretch notorious for frequent landslides. This stretch of nearly 3km needed to be crossed quickly yet diligently. With a steady incline, this was not an easy climb. In about an hour and a half, we crossed this hazardous path. By early evening, we reached Thorong Phedi. By now, some of the trekkers were either too tired, or indifferent to climb the summit the next day. The two male trekkers, Sathya and I, decided that we would indeed trek the summit while the others opted to ride on mules.

The Treacherous Trail

The Treacherous Trail

The night at Thorong Phedi was cold. Really cold. The guides were worried that if the sky didn’t clear, trekking the summit would prove very difficult. After an early meal, a light one at that, we hit the sack. In order to summit from 4500 metres to 5400 metres- a climb of 900 metres, 5 hours was required. We needed to cross Thorong-la on or before 930am. Beyond that, the gusty winds would make our climb even more difficult and uncertain.

The Summit

At 330am, Sathya and I woke up, got our gear on, and made our way to the dining room of our Tea House. Hot Soup was prepared for us by the kitchen staff of the tea house. Other groups gathered as well. The next few hours, particularly for me, were going to test my will power and physical endurance way more than thought. The temperature outside was measured at -16 degrees. Our camel packs would freeze, we were told, hence thermoflasks were filled with hot water. With only half litre thermoflasks in our sacks, we would need to drink the water  one sip at a time lest we run out of it too soon.

Ready for the Summit

After wishing our fellow trekkers all the very best, and being given an applause by the staff of the Tea House for making it so far, at 4am, we started our ascent. The first 200 metres were literally vertical with an incline of nearly 75 degrees. It was all rock with some trail. We took our time in finishing this bit. As we crossed the first hurdle, our camel packs had frozen. A small cup of hot water proved equal to a lease of life. We cannot stop, have to keep moving, Aising, our other guide told us. The weather has been good so far but we cannot take that for granted. He egged us on as we proceeded upwards.

En Route to the Summit

With R K Gurung

The next part of the trek was all about distance and less about height. As we climbed and climbed, the altitude started to get to us as the oxygen levels reduced significantly. The cold, too, was relentless. Snowy mountain peaks surrounded us - above, below, to the left, to the right. There was only snow till where the eyes could see.  The gorgeous monotony was broken when Aising directed my attention to my left. Look at that, he pointed out. As I turned to look, I saw fresh pugmarks on the snow. A snow leopard was here not so long back. Probably a few minutes before we came here. My heart raced! Would we be lucky enough to see the ghost of the Himalayas? The elusive yet majestic Snow Leopard? Aising smiled back and said, it has already gone far ahead and shows itself only it wants to be seen. We moved on.The reducing oxygen levels coupled with the steady incline and the snow made me weary with each step. I was stopping nearly every 5 minutes for to get my breath back. With water being scarce, there was no other option than to take frequent breaks much to the chagrin of the guides accompanying us. We were slowing down, and for now reaching Thorong-la by 930am seemed farfetched. Something else was happening! For the first time in the entire trek, I was feeling the weight of my rucksack. The rucksack, which weighed 12kgs, now felt like 120kgs on my shoulders.

The Rucksack

Throughout the entire course of the trek, the Sherpas, the brave and fearless residents of the Himalayas, volunteered to carry my rucksack. It is common practice for trekkers to give their rucksacks (weighing anything from 10kgs to 15kgs) to Sherpas while the trekkers themselves carry only a day-pack. Whilst others on the trek gladly gave them theirs, I decided to carry my rucksack. This trek wasn’t only about conquering the mountains, it was about how far I could push myself and carrying my own rucksack was an integral part of that plan. My fellow trekkers advised me against it saying that it was ridiculous to carry your own pack because that’s what the Sherpas were there for. That’s what they were being paid for, I was told. I was very clear that I would carry my own load. I did, however, promise them that if at any point in time I felt like the load was too much to carry, I would promptly hand it over to one of the Sherpas. For the first time during the entire trek, I was tempted to do so. 

My Rucksack

With another 3 hours to go, a friendly sight was presented to us in the form of our other trekkers. Seated on their mules, they passed us by with claps and encouraging words that boosted our energy.

The Sathya Factor

The last hour will soon be upon us, as will be the steep climb, we were told by Aising. By now, I was absolutely exhausted. There was no water, too. We could see people crossing us but I for one was completely drained. My breaks were literally by the minute. I stopped looking up or looking forward. All I could do was look down and take one small step at a time. One hour seemed like eternity. My fingers were stiff after clasping my trekking pole tightly for nearly 4 hours. My feet were sore as climbing in snow is an arduous task. For every step I took, I was cheered on by one man, my fellow trekker Sathya. As a first time trekker, he demonstrated incredible resolve in trekking the Annapurna Circuit. He had exceeded all our expectations and most importantly, he was always positive.

My Partner-in-crime, Sathya

Finally, when I was just about a 50 metres away, I fell to my knees. I could barely move. Out of breath, out of water, and completely out of energy, and although I could see him flailing his arms and screaming that we had made it, Sathya's voice was distant. Can't go any further, I said to myself. Having come this far, with only 50 metres to go, giving up was not an option. 

Silencing the voice within

With one last push, I rose to my feet, dug my Trekking pole into the snow and moved forward. I counted 50 steps. At the 50^th Step, I could see my friend with a broad smile coming towards me. I threw my stick in the air and gave him a bear hug.  And while doing so, for the first time since many years, I broke down. I had done it and I had done it on my terms! Throughout my life, I have always considered myself physically weak. A voice within me always mocked me for my lack of strength and endurance. Weakling, it kept needling me. It had lessened significantly after my first Himalayan Trek (Hampta Pass) and had nearly vanished after Devil’s circuit. This trek was the knockout punch that silenced that inner voice forever.

Made It!!!

Hot water was served at the Pass. I sipped it slowly as I saw happy faces around me. The feeling of achievement was writ largely on every face that passed me. I made it a point to shake hands with nearly everyone I saw. Within half an hour, it was time to descend. The descent was going to take us nearly 7 hours. Whilst many claim that the ascent is the most gruelling part of the trek, there are a good number who say that the descent cannot and should not be underestimated. 

The Descent

As we began our descent, a strange feeling began to creep in. I began experiencing a shooting pain in my head. AMS or Acute Mountain Sickness is something I had successfully managed to evade throughout the entire ascent without any medication, however, it found its way into me during our descent. This was a result of ascending and descending high altitudes within a short span of time with fluctuating oxygen levels. After an hour of descending, I decided to handover my rucksack to Aising. He gladly carried it for me as I decided to take my time descending. My vision was blurry hence I had to take each step slowly.  Instead of being my usual chatty self, I became very quiet. All of Sathya’s efforts to converse were met with monosyllables.

The Nod and The Embrace

Finally, after a couple of hours of descent, my head was clear again. From then on, I was racing downward.  Triumphantly, I reached our base camp where the other trekkers were waiting for us. So, how was it, I was asked by one of the trekkers. I just smiled and plonked myself on a chair and said, exhilarating! From here on, it was easy and even though we had another 2 hours of descent, it was mostly the plains. We were to camp at a very famous Hindu Temple town called Muktinath. After praying to the deity, it was time to head to our hotel. As we finished dinner, R K Gurung came upto me and said, I have a lot of respect for you! Not many Indian trekkers carry their own rucksacks.  I acknowledged his compliment with a nod of my head and embraced him for his wonderful leadership skills in navigating the group successfully past Thorong-La Pass. 

The Brave and The Strong

Without a shred of doubt, the real heroes of all Himalayan treks are the Sherpas. Without their support, guidance, and tremendous physical strength and endurance, we would not be able to trek the mighty Himalayas. Take a bow, Team R K Gurung and Aising. I slept very well that night as I began to think about my next trek. 2019. Mount Kilimanjaro.

Hampta Pass with Chandrataal: My First Himalayan Trek

There are dozens of treks in the Himalayas. Treks are generally categorized as Technical and Non-technical while difficulty levels vary from Easy to Hard. As a first time trekker in the Himalayas, I was advised by a dear friend to try The Hampta Pass with Chandratal.  The Hampta Pass Trek is an enchanting journey through the Northern part of Himachal Pradesh. It begins from Manali and traverses across Spiti. Said to be a part of the Pir Panjal range of the Himalayas, the trek offers some stunning landscapes and sometimes treacherous paths through hard and soft snow alongside the mighty River Beas. It is a non-technical, Easy to Moderate Trek that usually spans across six days including one day reserved purely for altitude acclimatization.  Seemed reasonable enough, I figured. I had been to cold places before, but trekking over six days is a completely different ball game, as I was about to find out.

Our trek was organised by Kailash Rath- a company that specializes in Himalayan adventures. They took great care in ensuring we had everything we needed to proceed for the trek. Their guides were exceptionally trained. I will talk a bit more about them towards the end of the article. Let’s get started with the actual trekking experience, shall we? 

Day One: Base Camp: Rumsu: After a brief drive from Patlikuhal, I arrived at Rumsu – the base camp. This was where Kailash Rath had set-up its operations. After completing paperwork, I started to mingle with other trekkers. Most of Day One was spent in acclimatization. Since many of us were first time trekkers, we needed to gradually acclimatize ourselves to higher altitudes. A brisk two-hour walk uphill carrying our rucksacks gave us some idea of what we were in for.

The rest of the day was spent getting to know other members of the group. The organizers made the day interesting with some Rappelling. In the evening, there was a two hour long orientation session by the founders of Kailash Rath. This was an important session as we were advised of the threats and challenges that the trek presented along with techniques and tricks to overcome them. 

Day 2: Trek from Hampta Dam to Chikka:
We departed soon after breakfast. Before embarking on the trek, we needed to drive from Rumsu Base camp to Hampta Dam. This took us around 3 hours. Our trek started once we reached Hampta Dam. 

The trek to Chikka took us eight hours. Our group, consisting of 25 members and 2 guides, took its time to come to terms with the demands of the journey. The landscape across the entire trek was extremely scenic with meadows, melted glaciers, pristine streams and shrubs dotting our path.  Little tents that served up hot tea and Maggi popped up every now and then. Satiate yourselves as much as you want to as from tomorrow onwards you won’t get to see any of these tents, we were advised by the guides. Having hot Maggi on the mountains is an experience I will always cherish. The ascent was relatively easy as it steep only in parts. The path, too, was devoid of any hazardous stretches although it did get a bit rocky towards the end of the day. Towards the last hour of the trek, we came across the first strip of hard snow. Using techniques taught to us by the guides, we navigated this strip without any incidents. Our trek ended soon after we crossed a stream with ice cold water, barefoot.

Once we reached the Chikka Camp, a few of us, including myself, experienced Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS) in the form of a splitting headache. Our guides and a couple of more experienced trekkers in the group advised us to hydrate ourselves immediately by drinking at least 2 litres of water and some salts. The organizers always made sure we were well fed with some great food prepared for us at every camp. They took great pains in preparing freshly cooked dal, rice, roti and subzi followed by a hot dessert such as Kheer. This was indeed commendable and most appreciated by the entire group. Although the headache had subsided considerably, as a precautionary measure, I took a Disprin before going to bed. It worked wonders.


As the day at Chikka drew to a close, the group found itself in an unenviable situation. Nearly 12 members appeared reluctant to continue the trek. The guides did caution them that today was probably the easiest part of the trek. Things would turn a lot more extreme once we went higher up. The twelve were a group that had come together from Mumbai, and if they did decide to discontinue the trek, they would do so together. Just before we went to bed, we were informed of their decision. They would go back! There was an uneasy silence as we slept that night.

Check out pics of Day 1 & 2 Here : https://www.facebook.com/jaideep.jedi/media_set?set=a.10155086399275589.1073741848.655755588&type=3 

Day 3: Trek from Chikka to Balu Ka Ghera: We were up as early as 5am. The trek to our next camp Balu Ka Ghera needed to be completed before 2.30pm, we were told. The weather up in the mountains can change by the hour, we were told. As dutiful cadets, we were ready by 6am. There was one big difference, though. This time, there were two groups that stood, instead of one. 

The first was a group of thirteen, the ones who would press forward, the ones who would brace the challenges that the next few days had to offer. The second was a dejected bunch of twelve who had decided to return to Rumsu Base camp. Some were bruised, body and ego, others happy that they made it this far. Like good mates, we lined up and one-by-one wished the other group all the very best in their return journey to Rumsu. Minutes later, we were off.

The journey to Balu Ka Ghera meant that we would ascend and ascend for nearly 6 hours. The route would get tougher and the air, thinner. As we climbed, we noticed the gradual change in the landscape. Lush meadows were replaced with desolate fields and sparse vegetation. Snow, hard and soft, greeted us more frequently than we had expected. The guides gave us ample opportunities to perfect the various techniques of walking on snow. For me, it was the first time in my life that i had seen so much snow, leave alone trek on it. The mountain ranges surrounding us grew more intimidating as we climbed. Our spirit as a group remained intact as we successfully negotiated rocky climbs, and slippery snow

By 2pm we reached Balu Ka Ghera. As we plonked ourselves into our respective tents, a hailstorm lashed out at us. Soon, there were gusty winds, and then, just the sound of the river flowing beside our camp. The guides were right; the weather here did change by the hour. We spent most of our time chatting with each other. Topics ranged from the trek so far, to group bonding, to Bollywood, to travel, to our respective professions, and last but not the least, relationships. An extended round of Uno added to some great group bonding as the day came to a close. Our cook at the camp dished out some amazing dinner. Hot rotis with alu mutter sabzi/curry vanished in a matter of seconds. By 8pm, we were asked to fall-in for instructions for Day 4, the toughest of all days. 




Day 4: Balu Ka Ghera to Hampta to Shiaguru  We were up at 4am. Yes, that's how early we woke up! After some hot tea and good breakfast, the guides repeated their instructions. This would be the toughest part of the trek. There have been many who had just given up and returned. There were a few treacherous passes that we would encounter but there was no need to worry if we just went by the instructions of the guides, we were told. 

With boundless enthusiasm and strong group camaraderie, we started. We would ascend to a top height of 14300 feet. The weather, despite a few idiosyncrasies, had been on our side thus far. It remained to be seen if it would continue to do so. The icy, snowy patches now completely dominated the landscape with little or no green patches anywhere in sight. There were barely any signs of life apart from the odd horses that passed through carrying equipment of descending trekkers.

At our first break, nearly 2 hours after we began our trek, we began to realize just how tough this was going to be. Some of us had a headache while others vomited. After some good rest, we resumed. Our steps grew heavier, and each stretch took longer to cross. Walking on hard snow required adherence to technique, patience and deliberation. One wrong step could send us sliding back several 100s of meters downhill, as we were about to find out. Hard snow, soft snow, clean snow, dirty snow, shitty snow, you name it, we experienced it. The air grew thinner. With our 10-kg rucksacks, some of us started to struggle. The important part was that we kept going. We kept encouraging each other. Almost there, we kept telling ourselves.

At one point in time, one of our fellow trekkers took a wrong step. As we watched in shock, she tumbled downhill, and in a matter of seconds, she was several meters away from us. And she wasn't stopping! One of the guides, daringly, flung himself on to the ice towards her and caught her. As they both slid downwards together, the guide deftly swivelled himself ahead of her so that he could control the slide and eventually stop it. Just ahead of them were some boulders and had he not stopped in time, both would have crashed into them. Not a pretty thought. Though not life-threatening, this member could have sustained some nasty injuries had it not been for the guide's timely act of courage. At 14000 feet, you do not want any form of injury, however minor; believe me when I tell you this. The group heaved a huge sigh of relief when we heard her shout 'I'm okay. I'm alright!!!'. Although, this entire incident occurred in a matter of seconds, we kept replaying it in our heads for the rest of the trek. 

The final 500 odd meters really sucked the juice out of us. A squall looked around the corner and we simply had to commence our descent before it unleashed its fury upon us.  Each step grew tougher. The cold was getting to us as well. Finally, after a pretty intense 45 minutes of non-stop climbing, we made it to the top. Many of us couldn't think of celebrating as were completely drained of energy. Devoid of both, energy and enthusiasm, we needed to rest before descending. No selfies, no photographs, nothing. Our guides urged us on, constantly reminding us that the squall was almost here, that we needed to move on. Then, one of the team members pulled out a jar of Nutella. I cannot begin to tell you how Important that particular moment was. The jar was passed on for everyone to take a spoonful. Nutella, apart from being an instant mood elevator, provided us with a much-needed rush of sugar. The squall was now threatening to turn into a full blown storm. The winds grew gustier. Grey clouds gathered from nowhere. We needed to descend, NOW!!!

During the briefing session at Rumsu, we were told that the descent can, and will, be more treacherous than the ascent. Our route downhill included crossing a lot of slippery snow. That on its own wasn't the problem. The problem was that several hundred metres below us was the River Beas. One wrong step and we would tumble straight into the river. We commenced our descent, desperate to avoid the storm. We knew we were safe when we were greeted by snowfall. Unpredictable, indeed! Treading each step gingerly, we managed to descend without any untoward incidents. Although we were physically exhausted, we egged each other on.

When we were about a kilometre away from our next campsite, Shiaguru, we had one task to complete. Between us and the camp was a massive sheet of snow at nearly 60 degrees inclination at certain points. it stretched over 200 metres of which approximately 140-150 metres was steep. The recommended way down was to slide. Sounded like fun, but there was some amount of danger involved. If we didn't stop in time, sharp rocks would greet us at the bottom. As always, the guides were there to make sure nothing went wrong. We slid downwards in twos. By the time it was my turn, most of the others had already crossed safely. My partner took his position as one of the guides began explaining basic techniques on how to control the speed of your slide. As I clumsily tried to get behind my partner, I slipped and the next thing we knew, we were sliding. We gained good momentum and were even airborne for a second when we hit what appeared to be a 'speed-breaker'. The slide of 140 meters lasted all of 10 seconds. That means we slid faster than Usain Bolt runs. I have been in roller-coasters before, but nothing, absolutely nothing, matched up to the fun I had on this slide. It was exhilarating. All the tiredness vanished in a matter of just 10 seconds. 

The group was in very high spirits after we completed this part of the trek. We could see our camp. About an hour later, we made it to Shiaguru. It was time to rejoice. The weather, however, had other plans. We were warned that Shiaguru would be the coldest place that we would camp at with night temperatures plummeting to a low as -7 degrees. We heeded their warnings very seriously. As an individual, I needed 4 layers, including a layer of thermals to stay warm. After a good dinner, the guides applauded us for our tenacity and camaraderie. We, in turn, appreciated them for their guidance, and courage. Luckily, the weather didn't go below -2 degrees however the night at Shiaguru was one of the most uncomfortable nights in my living memory. It was cold, rainy, and extremely windy. We were freezing despite multiple layers. Thus ended Day 4 of our trek.

Check out pics of Say 3 & 4 here: https://www.facebook.com/jaideep.jedi/media_set?set=a.10155095437045589.655755588&type=3 

Day 5: Trek from Shiaguru to Chhatru, Drive to Chandratal: After what was the most torrid night on the trek, we were up by 6am. A lot of us were sleep deprived. During another group session of Uno the previous evening, I had wished for something different for breakfast the next day. Chowmein would be good, I said to the group. To my most pleasant surprise, when the cook opened the breakfast box, there was Chowmein. How cool was that!!! In the biting cold, all of us greedily gobbled down plates full of hot chowmein. Our treat didn't end there, though; the cook surprised us again by serving us freshly made, steaming hot Gulab Jamoons. We considered this a reward for making it to Shiaguru. 

As usual, the guides instructed us to fall-in for the last set of instructions. "Today is the last day of your trek", one of the guides started off. "All of you have done very well to get here and it is commendable to see the group camaraderie. As your guides, we too have had a lot of fun." Cat calls, beaming smiles and high fives began to spread as we were visibly thrilled with such words of encouragement. We were then told that we needed to reach Chhatru, our final campsite by 230pm. From there, it would be a four hour drive to Chandrataal. We were game.

The final day of the trek involved descending rocky patches, some lush green meadows followed by one last slope of snow. We began the trek by crossing a stream. Nothing really to gloat about, except that at 630am, water flowing straight from a glacier tends to be unimaginably cold. Think about it as the equivalent of wading through ice. We formed one big human chain and waded through the waters pretty effortlessly. After drying ourselves, like belligerent troopers, we kept at it. 

As we descended, we spotted a car in the distance - our first in 5 days. We rolled out eyes at the thought of returning to city life. A couple of hours later, more familiar sights greeted us. Sheep, Goats, meadows, green fields, vegetation now dotted our path. All of a sudden it seemed as though we had never trekked the mountains in the first place, that's how far off they seemed.  The final slope of snow was navigated, which was slightly tricky and very long, was navigated patiently and gingerly by the group. At 12 noon, we made it to Chhatru. We were two and a half hours ahead of our scheduled arrival time. We had nailed this last stretch like professionals.

Upon arrival, we were greeted by some very familiar faces. Cheers, claps and whistles!! It was the group of 12 that had left us at Chikka. They drove from Rumsu Base camp to Chhatru to join us for the visit to Chandrataal. We were very happy to see them. We again shook hands soccer-team style. A few hugs and a quick lunch followed as readied ourselves for the 4-hour long drive to Chandratal.

Chandrataal: This destination is known to attract thousands of tourists every year. it was a pristine lake formed in the shape of a crescent therefore leading to be christened Chandrataal (shaped like the Moon). The drive was long, the roads were terrible and the overall experience was exasperating. Not surprisingly, after nearly 5 days of active trekking, the group found it much tougher to be holed up inside a car for nearly 5 hours. The road to Chandrataal has the dubious distinction of being amongst the worst and most dangerous roads in India. We were tossed up and down in our cars like vegetables in a wok. Enough said, once we reached the top, the lake in itself was breathtakingly beautiful. 

As I waded into the shallow waters of Chandratal, it was a poignant moment for me as I felt terrible about how we humans have devastated our beautiful planet by just being here. Thanks to these mountains, lakes like Chandratal were spared. All of a sudden, the deadly, inhospitable roads began to make sense. We spent all of 30 minutes at Chandrataal. The guides instructed us to fall in for one last time. "This is your last fall-in; your trip ends here. We will return to Chhatru, get a good night's sleep and depart early morning to Manali. It's been a pleasure being with each and every one of you." 

The return drive was equally long and bad. By the time we reached Chhatru, we had trekked for 5 hours in the morning and driven 9 hours to visit a lake where we spent just half-an-hour. Somehow, the group felt that the visit to Chandratal was not something that should have been done the same day. For the first and only time, we didn't like it. The night, however, passed peacefully. All of us slept soundly.

Day 6: Return from Chhatru to Manali:  We had to depart at 6am to avoid traffic. Our route included passing through the world-famous Rohtang Pass. Being peak season time, it would be packed like sardines. We were not looking forward to it. The traffic along the way was appalling. And that's putting it mildly!!! In a matter of minutes, all you could smell around you was diesel exhaust fumes. The closer we were to Manali, the worse the traffic jams became. Nearly 7 hours later, we reached Manali bus stand. Hugs were given, hands shook, good words were exchanged, as we prepared to embark on our respective return journeys. From here on, each of us had to find out way back to our respective cities. The guides left us to return to Rumsu and prepare for their next assignment.  IT felt as though we’d known each other for ages. The friends you make when you trek will last you a lifetime, the organizers told us during our briefing. We began to believe that might well be the case. At Manali, after a delicious lunch at Chopsticks - a Chinese restaurant, two of us departed from the group and made our way to the bus stand. 

Check out pics from Day 5 & 6 here: https://www.facebook.com/jaideep.jedi/media_set?set=a.10155104644460589.1073741852.655755588&type=3

As we boarded our bus, we reminisced the last six days fondly. Each moment vividly replayed itself in front of us. It was my first trek into the Himalayas and I was extremely proud of doing it with this bunch. Till we meet again, May The Force Be With You, Always!

Never try too hard to please!

I am single! And I am loving every moment of it. Do I miss companionship? Of course, I do! It is but natural to seek companionship and intimacy and I am no different from the rest of you. At the seasoned age of 39 (well, not really but I’ll turn 39 in less than a month so what the heck!), I have had the good fortune of being in some wonderful relationships. I have grown thanks to the lessons learnt and now, in hindsight, I am truly grateful to all these relationships that did not result in permanency.

This gratitude, however, has developed over a period of time. It wasn’t there during those break-ups. At those sensitive junctures of life, more often than not, I was filled with a feeling of emptiness. In some cases, it was relief but mostly, like others, I too went through the common five phases of a break-up i.e Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and finally Acceptance. Today, the reason I decided to pen down my thoughts is primarily because I found out the number one reason I felt what I felt at that time. And the reason was that I tried too hard! Way too hard! Mind you, this doesn’t imply that I was overbearing in ANY of my relationships; Nope, that never happened. But I did take a lot of decisions keeping in mind the happiness and needs of my partner, rather than doing what I felt was right. A lot of this was internal. It was a constant struggle to try and become what you perceived your partner wanted you to become rather than seek acceptance for who you are. In the process, I lost myself, not once but many times. Each time, it was a different set of changes that I chose to undergo so I never could take an objective view of the situation, and notice recurring patterns.

There’s something about trying too hard that remains hidden over the course of a relationship. In the beginning you just fail to see it because you feel that your efforts will bring a smile on your partner’s face and that smile is all that matters. Before long you start to realize that the sheer effort you put into pleasing your partner becomes the norm rather than the exception and then you start trying even harder. One can argue that I should have drawn the line well in advance but it is difficult to implement. And when one is smitten by their partner, it becomes practically impossible to observe your actions. Then, all of a sudden, it hits you like a thunderbolt! You start behaving erratically because of the constant internal debate that rages on during every moment of your consciousness. It causes sleepless nights, erratic behavior, anger and dissatisfaction. Finally, one day, it explodes in your face. Believe me when I tell you that none of this has anything to do with your companion. For all you know, he/she would never have asked for you to put in so much effort. It is all to do with you and only you! It is your choice, and your feeling of inadequacy that more often than not leads to such situations. All of this comes from one root cause: Self-worth; or rather the lack of it!

Self-worth stems from being comfortable in your own skin without being delusional. It is often mistaken for many negative traits: Rigidity, Selfishness, Conceit, Arrogance and what not. It isn’t any of these. Self-worth is part of the larger picture which is painted by Self-love. Self-love isn’t easy. It is tough on you. Whilst it encourages you to remain comfortable in your own zone, it is constantly pushing you to expand that zone. It is a constant dialogue between You and You. Self-love, at its heights, embraces any form of change no matter how disruptive without throwing you off balance. This is because it has instilled within you a never-wavering confidence that says ‘I am bigger than any of the challenges my life throws at me’. People with a high sense of self-love often find themselves radically different from the rest of the world. This is because they don’t seek ratification or approval from society for their actions. In other words, they don’t try too hard to please people around them. They either attract fierce loyalists or condescending conformists.  The common society disses their way of life yet secretly admires them. What they don’t understand, acknowledge or embrace is that Self-love didn’t happen overnight! It happened over several scorching days and stormy nights. People on the outside see only the end result. It’s like watching a top sportsperson in action. The audience only sees them for those moments seldom realizing the sweat and toil that went into becoming a champion. People with Self-love are their own champions. They give from a position of strength and immense gratitude which in turn has a lasting influence on whomever they touch. They may not be the most successful people in the world but that doesn’t matter to them. What matters is that they are led by an innate need to improve themselves for their own reasons.

Self-preservation is often confused with Self-love. The two are different. The former is only interested in the well-being of oneself while the latter is interested in growth. Self-Preservation is only interested in receiving. Self-love demands a healthy balance between giving and receiving. Only then can growth happen. In your own sphere of personal relationships, the balance between giving and receiving can only take place when you don’t try too hard. It is something we must all strive for. 

I would like to believe that I have embarked on my own journey to discover Self-love. Have you? 

Now I can go in peace

In the entire 38 years of my life, I have very little memory of 'living' with Dad.  The divorce in the early 80's between Mom and Dad happened at a time when I was too young to comprehend the gravity of such events.

It wasn't until the year 2008 till an opportunity presented itself for a small albeit important family reunion of sorts. I remember the entire episode vividly and down to the last word. Dad had recently undergone a Heart bypass surgery and his live-in partner had to leave town for a few days to attend to some personal matters. The Doctors had made it clear that at any cost he was not to stay alone. Such situations had presented themselves before and on most occasions, he would stay with one of his Brothers i.e one of my Uncles. This time something was amiss. He had mentioned to me sometime back that he didn't to be a burden on anyone so he had decided not to stay with anyone. He was happier alone. The feeling of discomfort was very evident on his face. I didn't bother asking him if anything went wrong between him and his siblings simply because it wasn't my question to ask. Dad and I had that kind of relationship. We were always there for each other but we lived our own lives and didn't pry into each other's. I did ask him a question, though. And it took him totally by surprise.

"Why don't you stay with us (Mom and Me) until she comes back?", I asked him as directly as I could. He looked at me. Then he looked away without uttering a word. I repeated my question, "Dad, why don't you stay with us?" He looked at me again and this time he spoke, " No, No, No, I can't do that. What will Sheila think? It's been far too long. I don't know how it will turnout". I said, " There's nothing of that sort. Just come!" . He wouldn't have any of it. Then, reluctantly and hesitantly, he said " Why don't you speak to her once? Don't tell her you're here with me." , I smiled and waved my hand sideways, " No Dad, I will dial the number, you talk to her". He froze for a second and then vehemently refused. " It's much too awkward for me, Olly. If she says no, I won't be able to handle it". " She won't, I can assure you of that",  I confidently replied. "How do you know? Have you already spoken to her about this?" He asked. The hope of an affirmative reply was very evident in his tone. " Nope, how could I ask her when it's you who needs to. I'm dialing her number now, talk to her". He sat next to me nervously as he heard the phone ring. "Hi, bolo!" was Mom's typical response whenever she answered my call. " Yo Mumzee, I'm sitting here with Dad! He wants to have a word with you", I placed the phone on Dad's palm. " Hello, Sheila?" he said softly. It was the first time I heard him speak so softly. Over the years, Mom and Dad had maintained a very cordial relationship. We had celebrated all birthdays, auspicious events together despite they being divorced. He was particularly worried about Mom after my Grandmom had passed away. She was, after all, Mom's pillar of support. After her demise, he made it a point to check on her every now and then. Sometimes he would drop by with fruits (he was brilliant in choosing the best fruits), sometimes sweets, sometimes just like that.But rarely did he speak so softly.

"Hi Shravan, how's it going?" She replied in her usual chirpy yet commanding voice. "I'm good, how are you?', he replied. She said she was fine and went straight to the point as only she could, " You wanted to have a word with me?" she enquired. "Umm, well, yes! I did. Olly and I were chatting. As you know, I might have to stay alone for a few days but my Doctor has said I shouldn't...".Before he could complete his sentence, Mom interrupted " Shravan, come home and stay with us as long as you please". He went quiet. He was too stunned to react. I gave him a victorious smirk. " Are you sure, Sheila", he asked in disbelief. " She said, "When do you want to come?", was her answer. " I'll come tomorrow morning, and thanks so much!!!"

I told him I'd pick him up in the morning and left with a grin on my face. I knew my Mom better than anyone else, and she knew him as well as she had 3 decades ago. AS I left, at the door, he asked me," I hope I'm not going to be a burden on you two".  I said " See you tomorrow morning, Dad"

The next morning, he was ready. I've always known Dad to be very punctual. He was dressed in his usual Lacoste T-shirt and casual trousers. Not a crease on either. He had his bag packed along with a small handbag. "My medicines," he said patting the side of the bag. The drive was very short as he lived only minutes away from our place. As we took the elevator, he seemed a little nervous but he composed himself. It had been nearly 25-years since they lived under the same roof. Surely, this was a moment for both of them to be nervous. If Mom was nervous, she never showed it. The previous evening, she and I discussed what we needed to be in place for him. She seemed fully aware of what was in store for us and seemed least hassled or worried.

When we entered our home, she gave a big smile accompanied by a very friendly "Hi". I think that moment was priceless. He smiled back and said "Hi" but the relief was more than abundant on his face. He was home. He knew it. We ushered him into his room and saw to it that everything was in place. We left him to unwind in 'his room' . Shortly, he emerged from the room and joined us in the living room where Mom and I were having a casual chat. He joined in and we continued chatting for hours.

The next three days, we would laugh together at some of the ridiculous things each of us experienced. He would frequently invade our DVD library and ask about movies. He would take charge of a lot of things including giving tips on how to cook only to be admonished out of the kitchen. I remember him being very appreciative of the food he had and even more so because Mom would cook especially for him. And she did it happily.  They did talk abut certain incidents that widened the rift between them but they did so as mature adults. Mom was particularly dismissive of many of these incidents. Too much water has flown under the bridge, she would say. He felt guilty and often wondered why he wasn't so mature.

Three days flew past. He grew more and more relaxed, He would often enter the kitchen and make tea for Mom in the evening, sit and cut onions at the table, iron his clothes and volunteer to iron my t-shirts as well. He would hum some of his favourite songs by Rafi and Kishore. He would always take his plate into the kitchen and wash it himself much to the chagrin of Mom and Me. He would come out of the kitchen and grin widely saying, " I'm used to cleaning my own plate".  On the eve of the third day, late in the evening, after a phone call that he received, presumably from his partner, he came out to the living room and sat with us. "I'll be going back tomorrow!". Mom and I looked at each other and then looked at him. She smiled," Okay".  We continued to chat till it was 10pm- his bed time.

The next morning, he came out of his room.As always, he was dressed in his trademark attire - A lacoste t-shirt, casual trousers, usually beige, and neatly ironed. His bag had been packed along with the handbag. The three of us took the elevator down to the parking lot and as he sat in the car, Mom said " You know you're welcome to come and stay at anytime". He smiled and gave her a hug. No tears, no melodrama, no fancy words. Just a hug. He sat in the car and waved out to her and said ' Thanks a lot, Sheila! I'll always remember that." We drove out of our apartment complex. The journey was ,again, short. As we walked into his apartment, I placed his bag in his room. It was time for me to go to work. As I was about to leave, I asked him " Dad, why don't you move in with us? It was so much fun having you around!" He smiled and said, " Olly, I only needed these three days with Sheila and You. Now I can go in peace." I never really comprehended what he meant to say. Little did I know that just a few months later, he suffered a stroke which sent him into a coma and eventually took his life. Had I known, I would've probably forced him to stay back. But that is the glorious yet tragic uncertainty of Life. I know he lives on in our hearts but those three days will always remain the most cherished memories I had with him. 

All hail Simba -The King of the Jungle

'Rule Number 1: If a Lion wants to kill you, then it doesn't matter if you're inside a tent, he'll find his way in. The tents are strong but they wont withstand a Lion attack', said Saad Bin Jung in his typical nonchalant way during our Day 1 briefing. His company - Africa Under Canvas, is dedicated to providing travelers the ultimate experience of Africa and its wilderness. But what do I do if a Lion does come close enough to my tent for me to freak out?, I asked him rather anxiously.   'Stay in the tent no matter what happens. Don't do anything stupid and keep your movements to the bare minimum. If you're lucky, he'll just walk away!!!' , were his clear instructions. Right! Got that! Shouldn't be too difficult to follow such clear instructions. When I checked into my tent, I noticed a long but blunt blade was kept by the bed. A weapon, I guessed. Not sure how useful it would be but I sure as hell wasn't dying to find out.

Except for the first night, my four nights at the Ndutu Plains of the Serengeti were rather peaceful. The first night was all about acclimatising myself to the wild and weird noises of the Jungle. Insects, Birds, Hyenas; make no mistake, the Jungle is teeming with life throughout the night. I had a hard time falling asleep as the slightest brush against my tent would have me clutching my blunt weapon. Could it be a Lion, after all they are known to be active during the night? Could it be a Hyena? A Zebra, maybe? Wilderbeest?

By the time it was morning, I was convinced that half of the Serengeti had paid me a visit. My fellow campers were quite amused but not surprised by my pithy narration. I felt deprived of an adventure when Saad's son, Shaaz, summarily dismissed the entire experience by saying ' Relax dude, there weren't any Lions, Hyenas or any other animal at the campsite last night. It was only wind'. If this was what wind could do to me, then I shudder to think what a REAL visit from a wild animal could do!!! And I didn't have to wait long before that happened.

 After spending four nights at the Ndutu Plains, it was time to move camp to the Grasslands of Seronara. Dramatically different from the plains, the Seronara region of the Serengeti is popular for Leopard sightings and of course, Lions. At the briefing, it was reiterated to us that the grasslands form a perfect setting for ambush attacks and that we were never to go to or come from our tents unaccompanied. We were also reminded that just a couple of weeks ago, at this very camp, a pride of Lions surrounded the campers in the night while they were dining out in the open. The camp was to be disbanded the next morning so the crew started dismantling some of the tents the previous night. The dinner tent was one of them. It was, apparently, one of the scariest moments in their lives as the Lions closed in one by one from different directions.  They were chased away by the Guides who managed to sprint across and into the cars. Lions don't like the revving of engines and tend to run away when they hear it. The Guides chased them far enough for the camp to be safe for the rest of the night. As a safety measure, however, the cars were parked right in front of the tents. If the Lions returned, the cars would be just a few steps away.

Since then, there were no visits from Lions that would become a hot topic of discussion until that night. At around twilight, while being accompanied to my tent I asked one of the locals if there had been any Lion sightings near our camp in the past day or two. He gave a gentle smile and said,'This his Jungle, he come, he go when he wants!' As I sat alone in my tent, I looked around as the Moon slowly but surely made its presence felt. I said to myself, yup, this is his forest alright. We are the visitors, and hopefully, it'll stay that way.  I couldn't help thinking about how we humans have decimated life on this planet.

 At dinner there were some entertaining conversations with Saad, Shaaz, and some of the other campers. Saad is a very knowledgeable man who has great experiences to share. From being a prodigal talent which led him to make a memorable cricketing debut against fast-bowling greats like Malcolm Marshall, to his battle against a life-threatening illness, to his drastically different tryst with destiny as a  Wildlife conservationist, to his blue-blooded family lineage, Saad can keep you both engrossed and entertained for hours. A couple of hours later, I tucked myself into bed after a sumptuous meal (Potato and Peas curry! Indian breads! Rice! What else can one ask for!!!). I was recollecting the events of the day as I fell into deep slumber.

At approximately 1.30am, I was woken up by a deep-throated growl. It was emanating just a few feet away from my tent.At first, I decided to disregard it. A few seconds later,the growl returned. This time it was louder and closer. I didn't dare move or make a noise. I knew  by now that this most certainly wasn't the wind. We weren't alone. Something was out there and it was quite big.  I held my duvet tightly. Surely, this wasn't what I thought it was. Maybe it was a Leopard. After all, this camp-site was known more for Leopards than Lions. Leopards are shy creatures. Lions are not! I consoled myself by believing that my 'Leopard' would go away. The growl returned, and this time it was followed up by some pretty intense heaving. Nope, definitely not a Leopard. It had to be The King of the Jungle. And judging from the loudness, he was probably less than six feet away.  The deep-throated growls returned along with some more heaving. Beads of sweat started  to form on my bald pate. Does he know we are here? What is he going to do? Is he going to make his next move against us? Is he alone? Is he calling his other pride members?  I couldn't see him as the tent's window was rolled down on the outside. The fear was killing me as much as the suspense. The fear of not being able to see what is going to happen next. A part of me wanted to just run out and get into one of the cars. Stay put!!! and DON'T MOVE!!!, I decided. The growling didn't stop, Neither did the heaving.

For a full two hours, the King of the Jungle made himself comfortable just outside our tents. Morbid thoughts crossed my head. Would I meet my end here? Will he go for my throat? Will I be able to outsmart him? All the mantras I had ever learnt throughout my life were being chanted repeatedly. It was amazing how I remembered them in the first place and it didn't matter if the order of the verses were jumbled up. I somehow had to stay calm. The growling and heaving was getting louder and louder but there were no screams or reactions that I could hear from the other tents. They all knew he was here and they remained dead silent. And then, it was quiet. The growling stopped, as did the heaving. I refused to believe that he had left. What if he had not? I decided that for the rest of the night, I would continue to remain as still as I could.

I don't know when I fell asleep again but I was woken up by the intense need to empty my bladder. It was still quiet. No growling, no heaving. I lay motionless in bed for a while just to be doubly certain , and then I crawled very slowly to front of my tent and unzipped it. My toilet was about 5 feet away in another tent, and although the two tents were covered by a large sheet of canvas making them look like a single tent, stepping out would make me vulnerable. I peered out to scan for any signs of activity. Nothing! He was gone!!  I tip-toed into the toilet and let out a huge sigh of relief. After all, my bladder had been full for over 4 hours now.  I crawled back into bed and fell asleep again. A few hours later I awakened hearing voices outside my tent, I knew that the guides had gathered to discuss what had transpired in the night. And amidst them was Saad and Shaaz. As soon as he saw me he quickly moved towards me and asked if I was okay. I nodded affirmatively. And then he asked me if I heard the Lion last night. I turned to him, and the look on my face said it all.

Later on, at breakfast it was revealed and confirmed that the King Of The Jungle had sauntered solo into our camp site. He made himself comfortable just outside the tent which housed Saad, Shaaz, and Ali-Saad's business partner. He was just two feet away from entry of their tent. While Saad managed to get a glimpse of the large male Lion, Ali woke up startled when he heard the growl for the first time . He quietly reached for his air-gun in case things got out of hand. During the course of the meal, it was revealed to us that Lion growled and the heaved to call for the rest of the pride to join him Thankfully, none of the other Lions came. Saad, Shaaz and Ali admitted that this encounter could have ended far worse when compared to the pride that encircled the camp a couple of weeks ago because this was happening just two feet away from them! And six feet from me.

I'm sure that this incident will stay afresh in our minds as long as we live. The King probably knew that we meant him no harm. It could easily have gone out of hand had one of us lost our cool and done something rash in a rush of adrenalin. It's the closest I've ever been to the possibility that I might not survive the night. I'm glad I did and I will forever be grateful to him for his magnanimity or whatever it was that led him to spare our lives. All hail, Simba - the undisputed King of The Jungle!!

Don't get Distracted

Recently, I saw a movie named Kill The Messenger. It is the story of Gary Webb, an honest journalist who came upon a story involving the Central Intelligence Agency’s involvement in widespread distribution of drugs sourced from Nicaragua. These drugs were traded for arms and weapons that the US Government was sending in order to fuel a civil war. The drugs were in turn, being sold to certain sections of the public. Webb’s story shook the CIA’s very foundations. Despite, threats to his family, coercion and blackmail, Webb went ahead and published his article which quite obviously took the entire United States of America by storm. But the pressure that was put on his employer by the CIA and various Government officials meant that there was an apology issued by the Newspaper that he worked for apologizing for the factual inaccuracies in Webb’s report. After he resigned from his job, not surprisingly, nobody offered him employment. The worst part in all of this is that Webb was found dead in his apartment with two bullet shots in his head. The police ruled it as suicide. Funny, isn’t it? How can a man shoot himself once and in the head and survive to shoot himself again?

Webb’s story wasn’t the end of this. It resulted in widespread demand for answers and even for the CIA’s main man to step down. Further investigation confirmed that the CIA was indeed responsible for the distribution and the sale of narcotics in the state of California. The entire investigative report was published for the public to read BUT, guess what happened. The report was given scant importance. Do you know why??? Because, the entire nation was lapping up juicy details of the Clinton-Lewinsky affair. The entire 51 states of the USA were busy reading about Clinton’s semen staining the sheets. The entire country was keen on knowing where Lewinsky is at the moment. And were gushing about how well Hillary Clinton took this so called ‘tragedy’. Was it really so important that a major racket involving the Country’s foremost Intelligence Agency being busted was given a small column in the 4^th or 5^th page of every daily???

This is exactly what is happening in our country too. The media is screaming their throats hoarse that India is becoming an intolerant country but not focusing on other more important issues. One or two stray incidents are given so much national coverage that issues that need Public attention get sidelined and sometimes even dismissed. We are a nation of 1.3 billion people. That’s 1/6^th of the world’s population. Much as this may sound harsh, stray incidents will happen. But to create and paint a nation-wide picture that we are an intolerant country seems like something is amiss. And do these victims need justice? Of course they do. If the media is going to help them get the justice they deserve, then great. But that’s not what the media does. Let me ask you a question. How does one rape make it to the news and another doesn’t? How does one hate crime make it while another doesn’t? Because, that’s what the media really does. It identifies and selects which incidents will capture public attention and TRP ratings and focus only on those and side-by-side, which incidents will take the nation’s attention away from more important events. By sensationalizing such stories, isn’t it obvious that something big is escaping our much-needed attention??? We need to wake up and really read the smaller articles that get covered. There is always a hidden agenda when minor incidents get covered and sensationalized. Read that newspaper more carefully for clues. Today, the ‘trending’ topic is intolerance. Just like after the Nirbhaya Incident, the trending word was rape. A few months ago it was about Religious Conversion. A few years ago it was hate crimes against lovers and the Khap Panchayats. Neither of these issues has gone away. They remain as much rampant as they always were. They are not trendy enough at the moment and hence don’t get covered as much. Heinous crimes are not to be trivialized but neither are they to be sensationalized to the extent where it threatens to cause deep-rooted hatred between us. Collectively, we need to take a rational stand against criminals. If we can, we should use our strength of numbers to show our unity to our so called leaders, and not to destroy one another.

My honest submission to you is this. Don’t get distracted. Don’t feed thoughts of mistrust and negativity against one community or another based on what you see or hear. If they say half-baked information is dangerous, then manipulative misinformation is nothing short of suicide. It is the collective suicide of intellect, compassion, tolerance and intelligence. 

Palmgrove and it's timelessness

It had been more than a year now. Considering that this place was frequented by me as much as twice or thrice a week, one year can feel like a lifetime. Besides, the last chat I had with my brother wasn’t a very good one. ‘Rubbish!!! Highly disappointing!!! Not going back there again!!’ were his exact words. ‘No way!!!’. I retorted stoically, ‘Palmgrove can’t disappoint’, I reiterated. He didn’t budge. But then my brother is like that- quick to disassociate himself and write-off places or people irrespective of how long or deep an association may run. My bonds, however, run very deep with Palmgrove. In fact, they run so deep that I do not remember the first time I visited the place. Must’ve been in the very early Eighties, and although I may not remember that first experience, it doesn’t really matter because every time we either visited the place or packed food from there, my expression remained the same- sheer delight.

Think about it for a second and let’s assume my first visit to Palmgrove in the year 1983.Now come all the way to 2009 (which was the year I left Chennai). That’s a sum total of 26 years. Now let’s translate that into weeks. 26 times 52 is 1000 plus weeks. 1352 weeks to be exact. Even if I were to remove  100 weeks of non-attendance that still leaves me with 1252 weeks. That’s 1252 visits to Palmgrove!!!  And mind you, I’m not the only one. Although since 2009, my visits to Palmgrove were reduced to 3-4 times a year because they were dependent on my visits to Chennai., I know of families who still indulge in the fine art of gluttony week upon week, month on month, year on year. It is also not uncommon to experience a noisy bunch of oldies thoroughly indulging in a medley of dosas, idlies and vadas after their morning walk. After all, they’ve earned it.

Back to the present. An opportunity presented itself to make a short trip to Chennai (which is always welcome) and predictably so, I rubbed my hands in glee. Not only did it give me a chance to get some important work done, it also gave me with a chance to visit Palmgrove once again. This time, however, the reason to visit wasn’t to relive the experiences of the past. This visit was to check if the place still had it in itself to recreate the magic. There is a big difference between the two. As I walked into the timeless Menaka Restaurant, I was greeted enthusiastically by a familiar set of faces. They’ve seen me grow up here, of course, they’d be happy to see me again. But that moment was enough for me to conclude that this place cannot be affected by change. It was , indeed, timeless.  My old favourite waiter Ajay, hobbled to my table. As usual, he knew my order. One ‘plate’ idlies with one vada and at least 3-4 bowls of sambhar. Extra ghee on the side, please. Followed by a Ghee Roast.  Waiting, waiting, waiting. About 10 minutes later, I was served two steaming hot idlies and a crunchy vada. Perfect!!! Wonder what my brother was complaining about?? Tradition demands that Palmgrove idlies be eaten the way I’ve always eaten them- mashed finely along with chutney and loads of sambhar. The resultant combination appears more like a porridge than idlies. Now add some hot ghee on top and you are on your way to culinary nirvana. To further accentuate the taste, add a bite of the crunchy vada to each morsel of the mashed idli porridge. For me, this was a redefining moment. Palmgrove had not changed. Not one bit.

Next up was the ghee roast. Plated in the shape of a cone, the dosa was simply outstanding. Now here’s a dosa which can be eaten plain. And it had it’s own unique flavouring and right ‘bite’ to it. Dunking the dosa in sambhar was the best way to savour it and that’s exactly what I did. The dosa absorbs the sambhar rather carelessly leaving certain portions still crisp while other parts soak in its unique flavor. Bravo, bravo!!! Bliss!!! Time now for the final act .  A strong filter coffee served fresh and consumed in a leisure manner. There, you are set to face anything that the world throws at you.

As a token of gratitude, I gave them all movie ticket vouchers that I had won the previous night at an event. I was tickled to see animated discussions among the old, greying and balding waiters as to which film they should watch. I smiled to myself and continued to enjoy my coffee entertaining a rather pleasing thought -  It’s quite comforting to know no matter how good or bad things get, there is always that one place in our lives that we can go to time and again to experience gratification. In my life, that place is Palmgrove. No question about it :)