Thump thump...

*Thump Thump…*

Extreme fidgeting, relocating seats to get a better view

*Thump Thump…*

Do I look pretty? Should I just wait here? Damn I forgot the rose and chocolates. *Thump Thump…*

I waited at the arrival lounge of the CS Domestic Terminal for his flight to land. Hadn’t much opportunities in the past where he landed and I could come and get him. The novelty of the pickup and drop before and after a journey remain a romanticized concept in my head. After all, who doesn’t want to know or feel like they were missed – even if for a day!

I was excited. He was coming home after an overnight trip to Delhi. Yes, I see him every day. Yes, I speak to him every day. Yes, I know where he is every day. For me that didn’t mean his entry and exit didn’t make a difference or I would shrug and go ‘meh… its just a trip!’  For me it was beyond important. If he wasn’t a part of my day, clearly the day had changed. And THAT is what I wanted to convey to him even though his flight landed at 11:17pm late night.

I got home post work, met the mother, had dinner, and got increasingly restless like a child before Christmas eve. Dressed up and left for the airport, armed with a book in case an impending delay was going to stand in the way of my happiness. I knew I was making a fuss over something miniscule; but he knew me and he knew my fussing. I got there and parked myself right in front of the arrival gate. The view was marred by a few annoying kids left to run amok and climb the railings. I waited, occasionally glancing at the monitor to see the flight status (the website said an early landing was expected). Once it blinked ‘LANDED’, I got up and made my way to the arrival gate, closer. THAT’S WHEN IT HAPPENED.

My heart was pounding. This was as unexpected and involuntary as my snapping at folks who inched closer to the gate only to be pushed behind by security who included me in his unruly bunch to discipline. My impatience was mounting and the heart raced faster. There was a 20min gap before I even saw him emerge. In the interim he called and I lied I couldn’t make it and apologized for it. I thought about my anxiousness and was happy that even after 2.5 years together, the heart still raced to see him. There was no stagnancy and there was no mundane emotion. It was pure and involuntary and I felt good experiencing it after such a bloody long time.

He came; I hugged him and giggled. He was tired and worn out with barely a few hours of sleep tucked in between 2 tiresome days. It didn’t matter – his appearance or his lack of reciprocation. He hugged me, we kissed and that’s what meant the world to me. I thought we would hop in a cab and head straight home. Instead, he made room for a drink at Starbucks where we waited for an Uber cab. On the ride home, he passed out with my hand on his head. I dropped him home and with a kiss goodnight headed back to my place. I was content. It was barely an hour or two but it was quality for me and I did the best I could to make his day worthwhile.

I hope for no more such separations.

I pray for always feeling like it’s the 1^st time we are meeting.

I dream of happy moments such as this.

I plan new surprises for many such moments!

BiKronicles 4: Lavasa Valley City

Happy Deepawali

This time Diwali was a scramble about town. When you are a couple you have much in common or rather end up having much in common. This is good. Then come those occasional uncompromised-able uncommon factors, which I think are fun cuz THAT makes us individuals. Diwali is lights, sweets and full stop at 10:30pm as per mister Abeer. Diwali is “woooow” “oh my god oh my god” *whaaaam* *BOOM* #nomnom “do I look fat” “haven’t I lost any weight” “where is your traditional avatar” and the likes as per et moi.

This time we played it slow and all loved up. I found a dress and wore it. There were no loud crackers and no severe abuse of the arteries. I decided to play it mellow too on the condition that we AT LEAST fuse up a few phuljhadis which we did :D These sparklers were also to cheer us up for the ridiculous struggle and failing to plan our Diwali weekend (or so we thought at the time). Every resort, beach property, hotel, home stay and everything that all websites and travelogues could offer had gone up fpr grabs like it was the last vacation on this god forsaken planet. Long weekend √ Family festival √ Firecrackers √ Mumbai √ Getaway options and offers √ - Who wouldn’t run outta town the 1^st blip they got. So we decided to stand our ground on the leave and take off.

We chose Lavasa valley city as our new exploration and decided to follow it up with Khadakwasla Lake the same day or the next. NH47 our standard route and an early start at near dawn i.e. 6am was the kickstart of the weekend. Not surprisingly, cracker echoes were still ringing into the pre-sunrise sky. We were glad to escape the heavyset smog and evident gunpowder pollution. Following the route and now covering it in lesser time than we used to, we took a turn at the Wakad circle and headed right. The road was pebble-like and had tons of gravel for a while. The locals and petrol station warned us of that. But after a few kms it was smooth as butter and absolutely scenic. By now we were used to scenic routes but when green valleys and plateau like visuals were replaced by reservoirs, unending and winding lakes and huge dams, we just had to pause for a break. What strikes at 1^st is the sustenance of the area. The locals look like they are well maintained, have ample job opportunities created by those who paved the Lavasa valley city and dams and have their own produce and resources tended to. The good thing is that there are still miles of untouched and un-hawked zones on the driveway to the valley city. That’s why it’s imperative to stock up on chai and water any chance one gets.

We noticed many bikers this particular weekend. Especially the Dukes and KTM riders (more like racers), a whole lot of Royal Enfield groups probably on one of their breakfast rides and also a stray few Harleys. All the key scenic points were stacked with bikers and each one was checking out the other. Abeer and I were the stray lone ones not part of any groups. However, the thrill of overtaking or riding along with one of the passing groups, even if briefly, is something I am always prepared for. We reached Lavasa valley after what seemed like an ascent, a descent followed by another steep ascent overlooking Temghar Lake. Temghar Lake starts with a humble scenic water body and quickly expands into a winding massive water body that provides resources (water, hydroelectricity, harvesting etc.) for 1000s of kms of land and forest area. Lavasa city is built on one of the banks of a hilly region overlooking Temghar lake and has its own Dasve Dam bridge that connects the waterfront from one end to the next. It’s a brilliant concept based on a European design and always draws a ‘mini EU in India’ comparison. There are ample places to eat and explore despite them being WIP. We lunched at the All American Diner where there was an offer for a few course meals at fixed price. We were starving and foodies that we are, offers always cheer us up. Therefore, we did indulged.

Temghar Lake Dam

A quick ride around the entire property across the riverfront, a bit of a walk and the day just sped by. Lavasa appears to have been made rather clean and ecofriendly. Again it was quiet and the crowd was scanty. The same cannot be guaranteed on a crowded day or event. The properties looked promising and rather inviting but I was clear I wasn’t looking for a community. I was looking for my own lone cabin by the lake. We left for Pune and had an eventful rest of the weekend by ourselves. It usually involves lovely meals, some real us time together and of course a good watering hole. This weekend we checked out a new joint and an old all-too-familiar brewery – Flambos and Irish Village. Khadakwasla was saved for another day given that we woke up rather late and didn’t quite feel like copping another long ride.

Beer samplers at Irish Village

All in all it was a gorgeous weekend. Lovely sights with simplicity being the order of the weekend. In addition, our bebe and beauty –RoyalEnfield Classic Tan 500cc series (I call her Limited Edition) <3.

For a top-of-the-hill view of Lavasa Valley visit the following clips I shot on Instagram: http://instagram.com/p/ujwkWivrWa/?modal=true and another video taken from the middle of Dasve Dam http://instagram.com/p/uhpcYFPrVn/?modal=true

 

 

BiKronicles 3: Nashik-Daman and Diu (Wining and Dining)

It’s been > a week since our epic trip to Nashik and Daman and Diu. A complete tangent ball game from our otherwise smooth rides. I was prepared and then not-so-prepared for this trip.

The ironic Monday after the week came with an anchoring feeling. Sinking would mean I could swim back up. This was heavy and leaded. The feeling was slightly eased by changing my shift from 6am-2pm and celebrating Eid-al-adha with my truly. I was glad I worked my ass off prior to the long weekend cuz that meant no anxiety attacks this workweek.

The trip was perfect until the evening before when an evil and honestly useless custom plagued me. Dry day on 02 Oct when we had planned to visit vineyards and thrive under vino-isk magic. Abeer eased my nerves; said, “Let’s just go and see what we can do!” to which I added “Lets buy wine and go to vine country!” Both extremely wise and useful decisions. Having gotten a steal at our choice hotel IBIS, I was pinched about paying more than double the difference to change our dates of travel. Glad I was talked out of it and lured with spirit (literally speaking). After having packed off the cats to foster care, which was a huge adventure in itself, I took off on the bike – this time new and revised gear and better prepared. Riding in the morning has a serene ‘leave this world behind’ sort of theme. There is literally nothing to interrupt you. Even if you need breakfast, you are seriously lucky if you find something of choice in the same route of travel at 6:30am. Starbucks, Powai it was. This was also the 1^st trip where the much coveted, hunted and finally acquired Cramster saddle bags made its debut on our bebe’s booty. The bags just slide over the seat, do not interfere with the pillion footing or support and have easy to reach into pockets for quick bites and water bottles. The 48ltr capacity was perfect for packing in 3 days’ worth of whatever we needed and it had room. Abeer joked that I could use 1.5 parts of the bag. I was good and used only 1. J 

Abeer's idea of a flattering pic of me!

The road was relatively smooth with the occasional ‘excavations’ caused by cargo wielding transport. The potholes and speed breakers were the kind that can send you straight up before you even realize what hit you or vice versa. Road condition is something that prompts me to be Abeer’s absolutely 100% fail-safe vision. Even if he is busy sightseeing whilst hitting the 100 speed mark, I ensure that I’m watching the road. There is also the selfish motive that prompts me to watch out for me more cuz the rider will be safer than the pillion who might slip off, fly or just fall off due to obstacle+speed making merry. We tried hard to ignore the near 40°C weather and rode on. The route was scenic and divine and we stopped to get a few clicks inspired by the scores of Instagram handles that glorified biking in all its panache and had us hooked. Maharashtra is truly scenic and beautiful. There is untouched rawness, which I believe is maintained partially by the locals who aren’t plagued by greed and destruction.

Once at Nashik, we reached IBIS, made a smooth check in and were met by the most ergonomically designed hotel room. Perfect use of space with comfort and no short-change on any aspect. I never tend to believe any and every ‘review’ posted on multitude travel sites. People are fussy and imagine the presidential suite at the 4 seasons in regular hotels at meagre shillings. Take a hike buddy. People forget that the room is to rest, shower, and get out of… not LIVE IN. Aaaaaaaarrrrgh. Moving on. We doused ourselves in AC coolness, showered and moved to Sula Vineyards. FYI all other vineyards were shut even for basic dine in or tours. Sula remained faithfully open and that’s where I felt comfort revisit me; that I didn’t cancel/change the travel plans. There was no wine serving or tasting. But there were wine infused dishes on the property’s French kitchen aptly named ‘Soleil’. Although named after its ingredients it was the likeness of coq au vin and lovely prawn bisque followed by fish steak and salsa.

My love and his love (Nexus 5)
in a frame at Sula!

Lazed and passed out like 2 tabbys under heavy quilts and loaded on wine from mid noon to the next morning. We were THAT tired. Well rested, hungry as hell (read pestering front desk for when breakfast service will start); we sauntered down ready for our next pit stop. THIS was something we weren’t prepared for. The route from Nashik to Daman was a dirt road that touches NH8 – calculated at a decent 2.5-3hrs at constant speed. We took >6hrs, thanks to long winding inner roads and near missable exits. I was on GPS and even diverted us once to what was understood as a ‘shortcut’ to NH8. Boy was I wrong. It was riddled with gravel, stones, and sticky clay like mud that made the bike skid. Add to that the heat and high cliffs and no human soul in sight. This was ideally asking for trouble and we wasted 30mins in diverting and then backtracking. After this, the tempers and the heat took turns to soar. Abeer was of course the diffuser for both. He calmed me down and occasionally gave me a sound hearing, which involved a verbal dismissal or a nice speedy dash over a rough breaker (the latter I did not appreciate).

Absolute slices of heaven enroute to Daman via interior roads

I kept reminding myself to focus on the route and the scene because THIS was something we would not get to see too often. There was absolute pastel color beauty everywhere. The kind you see in nature paintings capturing ideal settings: a brook or stream, lakes and ponds, sunrise and sunsets, shades of brown from the tree trunk to the surrounding soil, a quaint lil poetry bridge (very romantic), water flowing musically over rocks and shiny pebbles, valleys of colorful flowers in patches… I may sound like I’m losing it but it sincerely was such. Interior Maharashtra is likened to an uncorrupted virgin in mind, body and soul. We periodically whizzed past tiny near insignificant villages and then the occasional large village townships as I would call it. The latter if cemented and founded with bricks to define housing and living structures. Everybody walked. Vehicles were a rarity and 2 wheelers a probable life saver here. The locals were friendly and always appeared blank on conversing as the Marathi dialect I belted out was nowhere close to what they spoke. Surprisingly Gujarati was a winner when all else failed. I constantly wondered what this place would be like in the rains and the answer will be visually astounding if I ever do return for an encore. There were structured and manmade roads but no light installations or provisions that made me realize that unless you know the terrain like the back of your hand, DO NOT travel or explore post sunset. It is indeed asking for trouble as there were many detours and routes; the main road itself a narrow 2-way for traffic which whooshed by and rattled you for a few seconds.

A good 3hrs into the ride and I was tired and hurting all over. The heat wasn’t helping and distractions were few to none. We barely communicated and used music to calm the nerves – EDM. Locals were helpful in pointing out the route but it was all guesswork. One said NH was 5kms away and in typical Indian fashion, “Haan haan seedha jaao mill jayega” (yes yes keep going straight and you’ll get it). Another said the same except he calculated 10-11kms and made it sound like it was around the next bend. India… Lol. Ultimately, after all the riding we touched NH8 and it felt exactly like Andy Dufresne (Tim Robbins) meeting Ellis "Red" Redding (Morgan Freeman) in Zihuatanejo. There on the roads and highways could put Maharashtra to shame. We cruised an easy and smooth 120 without so much as a break or a glitch. The speed breakers also break speed but without the risk of hitting and turtling if not caught in time.

The Daman Fort that encapsulates all Govt. buildings
and heritage sites.

Daman is THAT part of Gujarat that is no longer a part of Gujarat. It is quaint and little and has a stark contrast to architecture and crowd across the Daman Ganga river. We stayed put on the Devka beach part of town and explored it on the bike. Point to note was that we stuck out from the crowd and that drew a lot of attention. When we stepped out of the hotel we were followed with barely a foot’s worth of distance. Abeer didn’t want to compromise our safety and I didn’t think that in worse situations he would be able to defend us against half the drunken population of Maharashtra and Gujarat who had driven down here for the long weekend (read dry days). So we took the bike around, ate seafood and drank beer in a few upscale places, stayed away from dimly lit and isolated spots and returned back to our abode, Hotel Gurukripa (I recommend). It’s a decent place to stay with all the amenities, good breakfast and reasonably priced. My sights were set on The Deltin, Nani Daman. Someday baby someday.

Next morning we drove down to Jampore beach at 6am to watch the sunrise and that other part of town. It was very domesticated, beautiful smooth roads, administration and policing, housing, shelter, and a whole little Daman community tucked away. Our exhaust rattle must’ve woken most of them up but we just cruised along. People usually kept to themselves but when approached they wholeheartedly helped and spoke at length. Suddenly I felt safe and wanted to explore. A quick semi-continental breakfast, packing in and leaving we cruised through Moti Daman’s architectural and historic offerings of a fort, lighthouse and churches and went on our way. We touched Mumbai in a stupendous 3hrs. Nonstop at a speed of 120 and not once did I feel rattled or unsafe. The roads were THAT good. Once in Mumbai, smoke, smog, heat, anger, impatience and general annoyance settled in a matter of minutes. I dread this feeling ALWAYS.

Came home, cleaned up and unpacked and thanked our stars we had a whole Sunday to recover from this mini adventure of ours. I just hope our life (Abeer and mine) are always full of these <3.

Us 2 and our bebe at the Daman Fort and Lighthouse.

 

I do

Such powerful words, I do.

It’s a declaration, a promise, a solemnity, a commitment, a secret, a decision, a communication, a signature, a word (or 2)… Just 2 fragile yet very powerful words change your life. For the best or for something new and beautiful to start and experience; at your own discretion and your own judgement.

I was blessed to attend 3 weddings in 2 months (would’ve been 5 if not for a folly). Usually a recluse from such events, I decided to stop avoiding them and go to celebrate my friends and their newfound love path. I attended my 1^st north Indian (UP) style wedding, my 1^st Goan AND Catholic ceremony and then a South Indian Shetty wedding. All were beautiful, very different and I was glad I made the trip to them all. First was an impromptu drop and must-visit to a UP style wedding. It was a dear friend’s sister’s nuptials. Very grand and in true north style spared no expense and glory in celebrating it. Well… at least someone was celebrating the girl child and her heart's desires. I wasn’t able to stay long but the friend ensured I didn’t miss a glimpse of the bride and her husband as they walked from the dressing room to the grand display that awaited them. Then came the Goan catholic wedding for a friend (no longer just so-n-so’s brother). We shared a special unlikely friendship and I decided to take the odd hour flights and do the dance and song solo. It was worth it except I missed my man a lot. The whole ceremony and celebration was traditional yet with a modern kick to it. I enjoyed every bit of it. The last 1 was another very dear friend whom I have managed to keep in touch with over 4yrs since I met him in Capoeira class. Ours was and remains and unlikely friendship that has an annual meeting or 2 (if he flies down) and we share all our updates over 1 meal. This time he dropped the bomb that he was getting married. A mirror image in life and thinking to my Abeer; this guy was extremely stand up and a thorough gentleman. I was happy for him and incidentally managed to make it to his wedding and reception.

The 1s I missed and really wished to have attended in person were my friends (1 former boss) Reny and Vanessa. The latter’s was a plan that went kaput and I am still seething with rage over the 1s responsible. Anyways… The common thread that tied all of these was unlike the general image of Indian weddings: loud and coerced. All my friends married their sweethearts of their choices (nothing arranged). All had traditional weddings keeping their communities and rituals in mind but nothing was over the top. If anything, they were grand in their celebration of the couple rather than the money spent on everything. I love that. Where the couple is and remains in focus for good reason. At the church, I expected a long sermon of extracts of the bible. What I witnessed was a priest who knew the couple as young babies and now grown graceful adults, who knew their inherent natures and who pointed this out aptly at the ceremony. This was refreshingly beautiful and I listened intently to how a tailor made ceremony for the duo was conducted. At the Shetty wedding, the ceremony lasted for but an hour and it was full of humor and smiles. The groom’s parents took a backseat while his older married sister and her husband aided the ceremony and ensured all went well. And even though I did not attend Reny and Vanessa’s weddings, from the pictures and the people I know I can closely imagine their nuptials and the what it must have meant to them and their families.

These restore my faith in the institution itself. I never shied away from it even though my parent’s didn't set an ideal example. But then again they did separate and find peace for themselves – a painful decision they made. There are marriages where a couple may live till death did them apart but as a relief – sad. My personal thoughts have been more to build a life with someone, make it complete, a home, maybe pets, maybe children. The pets and children are HUGE life churners and it’s something I would do only in partnership with my better half and not alone. Hence, the ‘maybes’. But I never lost hope in the institution of marriage. It’s but a ceremony to celebrate and solemnize your love. I think of it as very unique and individualistic. One is free to make a marriage of their own barred by society standards (unless you are a slave to societal standards).  The truth is on the surface everyone pretends to live by the ‘blind’ rules. If you peek inside there are secrets to families and wedded bliss that you weren't aware of.

This I cannot share with my cynical beau. He is convinced that the way to a good life is a bachelor’s life. Which is neither wrong nor right. But just like media and society flame stories of the evil mother-in-law vs. daughter-in-law, boss vs. reportees there are the equally gregarious gags and quips on the husband-wife relationship. Where the husband is the emotional fool who fell into a trap that expires at the end of his natural life. I laugh too. But I also find it ridiculous when a wife is the poster-child for ‘entrapment’. Any life decision is purely your own or with the 1s you love. If you suffer, you suffer together, if you’re happy… well the general outcome is happiness together. Even though my witty half periodically announces his allergy to this phase of life, I turn away for not wanting to be influenced by it. I am not a cynic in love and enjoy a comfortable hopeless romantic tag. Just last month I went about planning a 1yr anniversary like it was 25yrs together. I knew it was over the top but in mind it was what I wanted to share with Abeer and there was no rule defining what was too much or too less. I know that for the rest of my life I will celebrate love with grandeur and gratitude because it’s the 1 thing we take for granted in its presence and then pine for it in its absence. This worries some of my friends who think I will burn badly (irreparably) if things were to fall kaput. I think that if I am with a man whose lack of belief in the institution of marriage hasn't phased me then surely I am in love enough to have faith that what lies ahead will also be good. I really wonder how I would celebrate 25yrs of togetherness. Hmmm!

Recently Abeer and I ‘lived’ together for 2 months. It gave me a whole new perspective to living with him. We did stay like it was make shift for 2 mnths and there were days where admittedly I wanted to bash him up or I felt hurt badly. There were some serious ups and downs, yet most days made me realize that on a bigger scale he was the 1 for me and I pined for him to walk in through the main door and go to bed at night with me… and yes the furball Elsa. I loved it. I’m addicted to it and now I ‘pine for it’. Here’s congratulations to all my friends who found and celebrated their love with a ceremonial union, to those looking – it’s out there… and to my cynical oh-so-funny beau Abeer… I love you more each day and that puzzles me <3