Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Nightly ghoom (in desperation)

Just returned (close to midnight) fatigued and disappointed after - there's no better way to put this - a failed outing aimed at sighting a tiger/leopard.
Where?...to a nearby ravine (छिनकुआँ, in Gethia itself) that is presently popular for its feline inhabitants that show up now and then, though doing no harm. Last such sighting was just yesterday evening (as the village folks claim). I thought to give it a try late tonight.
We - me and baby brother - set away by 2245, with nothing but a torch at hands. We were there by 2300. The ravine isn't too wide, but in length it extends across the entire mountain, either side of the road. With neither of us having experience about the cattle track that led into it, I found it better if we just sat on one side of the road and wait in anticipation of something. The ravine forces the road to bend inwards sharply, cutting it out of sight from much of the village. There are no houses here, so we were to peace, and dark.

My intention was to listen for the jungle noises - sound gives more information than a single focused beam of light on such occasions. With time and increasing focus, the sounds came by our ears louder and more sustained: sweet serenade of an owl whistling away far atop the mountain, shrill cries of crickets and cicadas from all directions that soon merged with the ambient noise, occasional rustle of the smaller animals or insects, trucks moving up the ribbon-like hill roads. That formed much of the rush. There was a moment of scuffle as something moved in the bushes below, but that turned out only a civet (which, too, only Shiv could manage to locate). We walked back, me feeling like being inside a planetarium - darkness all around with a dazzling nightsky overhead.

The British colonists in 1900s would've called such an outing in search of wildlife as a 'ghoom' (coming from Hindi word घूमना/ghoomna that means roaming about). But theirs were different: they pushed deeper into the forests; they mostly did so during the daytime, or if during the nights then it'd be atop a tree (मचान); either had a support crew at their heels or would come well prepared.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Protocol for handling fledglings - II

Me and baby brother walking along one of the lakes that make up Sattal, and coming across this kingfisher hatcling / fledgeling. It was helpless, scared, noisy, and we couldn't help but imagine the fate of this bird by the evening - making for nutrition to a fox or a raven. It tried, but gave up resisting our presence, and we stood within a couple of feet, observing it; or maybe it just didn't have instinct to sense our presence once we ceased any movement. By initial instinct, I though that having it at a higher point would help and proceeded to cover it with my shirt, but in the process of picking it up, a second instinct made it seem pointless, for it'd fall down again, maybe hurting itself even worse. We left it there, just helping it to one side of that 3-foot wide track.

Seriously need to know the protocol for handling fledglings fallen down their nest, vulnerable and visible to everything out there, with no mother or nest in nearby proximity. There should be an instructable for this!
Rather than airing those almost-farcical measures to take during earthquakes (like ducking under a nearby table is a highly evolved understanding), they should've put their heads into this.

UPDATE: There's plenty of help available. But it basically confirms that one is helpless in a situation that I detailed above.
  • http://www.messingerwoods.org/babybirds.htm
  • http://www.allaboutbirds.org/faq#q-my-son-brought-1
  • http://www.valleywildlifecare.org/HELP__I_found_a_baby_bird_.html

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Far flung thoughts

Here's predicting the future: within an year from now, I should be in Poland, on invitation from Deepak & Ania for their wedding. The wedding, as of now, would also be a long-awaited reunion amongst us friends - on the condition that all of them actually show up.

There will be nothing much in my itinerary other than lounging in Poland, cycling in the Tatras, eating from Soviet-era restaurants, having dark chocolate, confirming if Polish girls actually fall for guys with no other qualification but fluency in English (as Deepak saidpromised), and trying to pick up a conversation with criminals on the loose. Cutting across Europe would be a bother, considering that the only friend who can take me around would be busy with his wedding, and that what another friend recently spent in doing so will have me selling my kidneys before leaving India.

Perhaps I might also:
- Visit Germany to buy a teapot
- Visit England to meet Jeremy Clarkson

Can already smell the Polish air...mmmm
Maybe a if-you-are-working-then-sponsor-me charity campaign would help take the very first step: getting the tickets.

Hello, I just called to say...

- What's love got to do with it
- Foot loose
- I just called to say
- Time after Time
- Running with the night
- Hello

- Purple Rain
- Let's Go Crazy
- Girls just want to have fun
- Don't rush the good things
- Captain Coke
- Dancing in the dark

These tracks don't fall into any sets, but for one - the nominations for Grammy in 1985, my year of birth. Leaving 3 of these aside, I didn't fall for the rest. Maybe such banal releases account for the banal childhood...coincidence?
We should invent some fictional science of 'song-strology' much like astrology or palmistry, and have our childhoods explained by the configuration of songs released in our year of birth.

Friday, June 12, 2009

Sangla now online

A Sweet Dawn, Sangla
Wrapped up with Sangla gallery as well during the day/night.
This trip was conceived in 1/2 minute flat, mainly because of finding all seats booked on the buses to Rishikesh on that particular day [when we had to take off], and went mighty well by that consideration. Me, Deepak T, Ania S were the team for this one.
These were 4 days spent thinking a lot of things, meeting nice people, and having odd nightly concoctions. First trip that had hygiene considerations attached, ugh. But had it not been for that spacious bathroom, and that hot water, and that roll of toilet paper, and that pack of kleenex, and that antibacterial spray....

Here's the trek listing.
Here's my image gallery (a consolidated one).

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Dodi Tal now online



The grand Dodital Trek image gallery is now online! This 4-day trip turned out worth a thousand anecdotes.

Here's some archival fodder detailing the awesome night that we trekked without rest, starting from Dodital, right uptil Gangori; a distance of 34km (and 47km for me for the entire day)
The atmosphere is quiet and thick with shadows. The silence has intensified the void. Dark mountains bulk all around us, and if not for our dim torch lights, we couldn't be certain if we were trudging ahead on our own discretion or had the darkness taken us in for prisoners.
These extremities of Uttarkashi - the roads that form its nerves - are like a bad mutation. They get no blood, for there are no settlements along them for many kilometers; many kilometers of stretches that you thought were populated, lie barren in the night. Me and Saurabh seem to have internalised this emptiness - walking on sans any emotion, not even fear.


Here's the trek listing
Here's my image gallery

Smart Truckers get a Challan

Truck drivers have a genius method of avoiding legal hassles: get a challan (fine, or a ticket). Here's the equation:
The worst part about breaking a rule is that you get a challan, and the best part about having a challan is that you can't be issued one twice; so a challan is akin to the cloak of invincibility.
Because challans are valid throughout a state (which makes you invincible over a large region), and because the fine is a fraction at the state borders than those inside cities, having a challan issued right upon entering a state is an awesome strategy. Now the truck can carry load beyond their allowed capacity, break traffic rules, tread on one-way roads, yet no harm can come upon them. The truckers generally put theirs up on their windshields, so that the police needn't bother them even for a confirmation of it.

The truckers thank Kiran Bedi for initiating this proposal. It's a matter of celebration for them because it frees them from the torments of the police, and reduces their chances of arrest (which, earlier, led to many truckers ending up languishing in the jail as there's usually nobody to bail them). I can see people angry over this fact, but I'd personally have a trucker being a traffic irritant than see hordes of them facing false arrests and having their vehicles impounded. As far as the question of reckless driving (when in possession of a challan) goes, I've seen them careful about others' lives; they ain't a terror.

[Thanks to Deepak for the trail, and a trucker regularly doing Haldwani-Almora stretch for the enlightenment]

Stereotyping terror (like thats any news)

My facial hair configuration these days more closely matches that of the average crowd in Muslim-dominated area around Jama Masjid. Yes, its that cool. I hadn't yet faced any issues this far, besides the odd banter from friends and relatives alike about being a Muslim - I can guess how they got to it. But seeing the same retard inference mechanism work with the police of our state is what makes me feel dismal.

'twas just yesterday when I decided to leave for Gethia. Having only an hour at hand, things happen in great haste. Soon I am at the station, fatigue apparent, disheveled look. As I enter, this policeman at the gates eyes me, and instructs me not to proceed any further without a luggage check. He starts off on a rude note, quizzing me about my background, while rummaging through my items much like an irresponsible child, recklessly (and needlessly) scattering them about on his table.
Where I thought I'd got myself into a bit of trouble was when I replied to being a student, continuation to my old tradition that doesn't seem to peel away. Upon asking for a student ID proof, I realised that I couldn't produce any, and felt a tinge of nervousness. However I continued with handing over my driver's license which, too, wasn't in a very good shape. But what happened in its follow-up is what was shocking: he eyes the license, reads my name, and immediately loses his interest in my profile, asking me to wrap up my items and not bother showing the larger rucksack.

Perplexed, what I could imagine was that I qualified at being a non-muslim, which made things easy.
Had I been in a situation where Hindus, instead of Muslims, were being (wrongly) targeted for terror, I think I'd have botched it up pretty bad and landed in jail. And never would've had the change to blog this :|

Friday, June 05, 2009

Civil Services inductees await the Autum of Love

For those elite few selected into India's Civil Services (UPSC), their 4-month mandatory training a.k.a. "foundation course" begins last week of August, at the IAS training academy in Mussoorie. Many of the recruits enter the premises unaware of _a_ fact, and the associated stratagem; but by the time they're out, its a serious consideration. Love takes over.

It's a fact that nobody gets a posting into the state which they hail from (eg an Orrisan would never get the Orrissa Cadre). But because of the deep-rooted desire to work from the place they'd called 'home' - just like we all do - there's a need to explore loopholes. And yes, they do exist. One, in particular, is a well-known secret - Cadre Based Marriages.

One of the only two ways one can get into their own state cadre is if their spouse already is a part of it. The other is if when the officer gets married to another officer - regardless of cadre - and appeals to either's state govt. to induct them into the cadre.

The first option has the least complications (in formal sense), but is based on statistics and close monitoring of future events. It's like fixing. Undertaking a project of this sort requires 3 stages:
I. Building good relations with a great percentage of your colleagues of the opposite sex,
II. impatiently waiting for the final results - who gets which cadre
III. immediately fixing up with somebody who's going to be in your home state


The second option is more convenient, but distressing in the long run because of all the amount of paperwork and informal pleas to politicians and bureaucrats involved. But this option also allows pursuit of the opposite gender of the same caste/religion - which some old-world folks find morally/idealistically correct. However, it might allow true love to proliferate. Requires a single stage:
I. Finding an appropriate mate during your months of training and marrying her ASAP

Is this rightfully right, or ridiculously right, or woefully wrong?

Tuesday, June 02, 2009

Pashto Speak

Alien life-forms trying to communicate with us. But before that, we'll digress to some awesome lemonade that deserves a mention... Modinagar Special Shikanji (Lemonade) is quite special; so special that its gone viral - just like those Peruvian flute bands in South Park. First is their awesome choice of spices, and then there's the huge 5-ft high, 3-ft wide tumbler that holds crushed ice, and also acts the essential central structure to their whole setup. Just mix up everything, and there you have it; beats every neighborhood banta-wallah.

So while at one of these lemonade vendors, a tall, lanky, old, disheveled, goofy-looking, taliban clergy-like guy was trying to enquire something. His tone was too low to decode, which was irritating; but from the reactions of the vendor, one could make out that he was undecipherable - and irritating - either way. Being our conditioned social response, I engaged in their frivolous communication by doing hearty gestures, which made me seem accessible. Endearingly, the old man came close and opened with a couple of lines. I didn't get him; it was an alien language, not even Urdu. From his gestures, it seemed he was making fun of the vendor who was making fun of him in the first place. "सिर्फ हिंदी समझ आता है|", I chirped, and he made some sense of it and jovially backed away.

In the meanwhile two boys in their mid-teens also came by for the lemonade. Average built, a lean figure, nattily dressed, but their features were dazzling, and their skin as fair as it gets - can swear that had they been in my school, a majority of the guys would've graduated with an inferiority complex. Their speak was also beyond my understanding, but the vendor understood them. "Afghanis", he later mentioned - like they were nothing new to him. India must be a hot destination with the Pashto folks.