CAMPers' Day Out

This is going to be my first travelogue, if I dare call it so. In any case, this is the best you can get from me in that category, a lousy traveler that I am. Under normal circumstances, a 1-day journey calls for 2 days’ rest in my case and under sub/super normal circumstances, it can only get worse.

I have an innate dislike for early rising (refer previous posts on this blog) and travelling by road. Considering these facts, I consider it remarkable that I participated in this picnic which called for us to start at an ungodly hour of 7.30 am. Those of you who are sighing and rolling their eyes at this statement may kindly note that since I am writing this I reserve the rights to call it godly, ungodly or demonly. You have no choice but to read it.

The tour coordinator had given us enough prior notification that we would be starting at 7.30 am IST. He probably didn’t anticipate that there are smart chappies among us capable of interpreting it as Indian Stretchable Time. After all it’s a day to relax, so let’s as well start it with some stretching exercises. We finally set out at 8am. Before leaving Udupi we loaded our vehicle with breakfast and lunch to be devoured enroute.

We started from scratch…I mean to say that our first destination was the ruins of the Tulu dynasty at Barkur. The moment we stepped out of the bus, ‘Tulunadu’ was renamed by a colleague of mine as ‘podinadu’ (land of dust). Some neo-historians observed that it was the dust that drove the Tulu kings away…or did they vanish into dust??? Along this dusty road..ehm…I mean path,  we walked upto ‘Katthala basadi” which, I was told, means ‘dark temple’.

This was nothing like the picture I had in mind about remains of an ancient dynasty. First of all, it didn’t look ancient with the well-kept compound wall around it. Secondly, it didn’t look like a dynasty. The locale of the temple barely measured to an acre and I had gone there carrying mental images of Harappa and Mohenjodaro.

I must confess that I am being over-critical here. Actually, for want of time, we had limited ourselves to just one of the many sites of historical importance. We had apparently decided to forego an ancient fort and some other spots of interest. We could read the details of these on a board which also carried the names of some big shots like Tipu and Hyder Ali. So the story has a lot more to do than with the Tulu kings. This kathala basadi, as I mentioned earlier, had the relics of a twin temples datable   to the 12^th century. It was called the dark temple as the inner sanctum sanctorum was so designed that no light enters it especially so when you circumambulate the deity. This was now open to exploration by the public and we all bravely ventured in to the dark sanctum emerging bright  enough. Though the interior walls of the temples are adorned with beautiful patterns and designs, the exterior walls were plane. Well..... not plane anymore, as this was also the apt plane for some Ravi to manifest his love for some Ramya as could be well- read from the inscriptions on the temple walls. Nothing uncharacteristic of the present day youth.

The spot was perfect for a group of 29 to have their breakfast and that is exactly what we did. Leaf idlis were served to the eager-to-eat teachers by the eager-to-please students. Saw the heights of gurupuja, ….must be the sudden influence of ancient culture.

After breakfast and a few more photographs, we bade our byes to what was left of the Tulu kings and resumed our journey. The road trip to Murudeshwar was uneventful apart for the short tea/pee break. Entering UK (read ‘Uttara Kannada’), we had Suvarna River and Western Ghats keeping us constant company until Suvarna joined the Arabian sea. 

We reached Murudeshwar at 12 noon. We alighted into the scorching heat and waged our war on the sun armed with sunshades, caps and umbrellas.Three things catch your eye at this place. The beautiful sea which borders the temple avenue on 3 sides, the 20-storeyed gopuram guarded by statues of 1 elephant each on either side, and the massive and awe-inspiring statue of Murudeshwar, that is, Lord Shiva. Now I’ll tell you about these in the reverse order.

            

 This 123-ft tall statue is the second largest of Shiva statue in the world and can be seen from a great distance. In fact, you get to see it while travelling along the Konkan line as Shivji hanging up in the sky. The gopuram, a 237 ft high edifice with 20 storeys has 1 life-size elephant (statue) on each side. My personal observation was that only the size was elephant-like, proportions were not so perfect at least by the standards of Indian elephants. These seemed to me to be slightly horizontally enhanced out of proportion. But then, I am no expert at the vital statistics of elephants. I may as well be wrong.

 But in spite of all the attempts they had taken to make it look grand and divine, I felt something amiss. Something somewhere was fishy, and I am not referring to the fishermen folk and their fishing boats beside the temple. I sensed an underlying artificiality about the whole business, as if it is coming down to nothing but business. A means to attract tourists under the pretext of religion and divinity.  I don’t intend sound like an atheist or an agnostic. I am a believer to the core, only a different kind. I don’t associate God to temples or rituals; but I do look upon temples as places of cultural and historical significance.

We anyway proceeded in the 10m long queue and got the ‘darsan’ of the main deity and got absolved of all our sins. Now we can open a fresh account. Everyone was soon taking photographs of the Gopuram trying to fit all the 20 storeys and the models below into the frame. We found it funny to see a batch of Sabarimala pilgrims leisurely posing at different spots and clicking snaps. “ At this rate, when will they ever reach Sabarimala?” wondered someone.

My apprehensions regarding the not-so-sacred intensions behind the temple were reinforced at the base of the gopuram where we all got excited knowing that we could actually go up to the top. Soon, we got to know that we wouldn’t climbing the stairs (of course that would be a difficult deal), but will be taken up by means of an elevator. Did I ever imagine going up a temple gopuram in a lift @ Rs. 10/- per head!! Well, my sins in this front remain intact. 

But the view from above ( by the way, we were taken only up to the 18^th floor which is actually a good deal for Rs. 10.) was worth much more than Rs. 10/- spent and I really enjoyed it. But why do that under the pretext of a gopuram?  To lend it an air religious sanctification? I don’t know and I am not fit to comment either. Maybe it’s all my ignorance speaking.

Hitting the earth, next we climbed up about 50 steps (no elevators this time) to get a closer look at the statue and saw a dog slumbering peacefully on Shivji’s lap, who, by the way, had his mount Nandi and some of the prominet figures among the bhootagana scattered in the vicinity. We clicked more pics, amassing evidence for our tryst with the Mahadeva. It was too hot and sunny for any of us to give our best wide-eyed-smiles for the photos. Sun was showing absolutely no mercy on us and I held fast on to my umbrella.

Now comes the best part. We then proceeded to the beach. As we waited for the remaining few to join us, it was shopping spree for the ladies. Some were attracted by the fancy ornaments on sale while I got myself a jute bag after a good share of bargaining, even promising the bag-wallah to bring back more customers. He was glaring at me later as I passed him without giving him so much as a glance. The best part of our time at Murudeshwar beach was the slices of pineapple that we ate seasoned with some magic masala (salt and chilly powder they say, but I am not so sure….. it tasted much better than that). I don’t know what did the trick, the juicy pineapple itself or the secret seasoning or the salty beach air laden with dust or the vendor’s dirty hands. The result was absolute gastronomic delight…pure bliss!!! ( Sorry, no pics of that part. We were all too busy...you know why !)

Soon, we embarked on our voyage in the Arabian Sea. We boarded a boat and took a short trip in the sea. We watched in awe the adventurous lot speeding on water crafters, I heaving a sigh of relief for not having to do that. We circumnavigated the land mass jutting into the sea on which the temple and the mega Murudeshwar were stationed. In a way, we were making a ‘pradakshinam’ of Shiva, an incomplete one at that too since the temple complex had water only on 3 sides. And that’s how it is meant to be while going around Shiva, as we aren’t supposed to cross the imaginary Ganga flowing on His left having spurted from his head. Well, for all my maverick views on religious practices, I was truly charmed by this, especially so, since it happened inadvertently. On reflection, was the temple and the deity so designed and installed so that the geography would allow the bhakthjan a perfect circumambulation by sea? Praiseworthy, I must say. 

Having completed the voyage, it was time to get back to the bus. The only thing that I missed was having my favourite sugar candy, one pink and one yellow on each hand, I couldn’t find any of those on the beach. Mmm… maybe better luck next time. It was 3.30 pm by this time and we soon hurried to the spot we had planned to have our lunch from. A shady spot overlooking the Someshwar beach was where the picnic lunch of pulav and kurma was served; again by our most respectful students. Many were practicing yogic eating. I borrow this phrase from a colleague for want of a better word to describe deep breathing accompanying the eating to take in the aroma of fried fish emanating from the lunch basket of another picnic team. Not that there was anything wrong with our lunch, especially the gaajar ka halwa.

  

We sat there under a banyan tree, also known as the Bodhi tree sitting under which Buddha attained enlightenment.Well, it was a moment for enlightenment for me too. This was the day, I got introduced to the fruit of the banyan tree. My first experiment with it was of course to investigate the edibility of the fruit and was dejected at the negative results. 

After the post lunch photo session, we proceeded to the Someshwar beach where the prime objective of the trip was going to be met. With so many sports enthusiasts amongst us a cricket match on the beach was nothing unprecedented. I chose to be the sole cheer girl missing not a moment of the exciting game catching many a funny glimpse of fast dismissals and run outs and ‘no ball with 6 runs’ , more drops than catches and overthrows....needless to mention, some fantastic batting, bowling and fielding.  I even saw the umpire batting in between. Where would you get to see that !  The match saw the grace, stamina and agility of many being tested and all proving to be well above the mark.

While the other female members of the group opted for a leisurely stroll scaling the coast line studying crabs and collecting shells, I went for the drier option, giving 1/3^rd each of my attention to the cricket, volley ball and frisbee games going on simultaneously before me. Besides, I had the added responsibility of guarding all our worldly possessions from a pack of stray dogs who almost outnumbered us.

                          

The setting sun looked so elegant, making it hard to believe that it was the same one baking us earlier in the day. The sunset was spectacular and perfectly timed by the little daughters of a colleague……6,5,4,3,2,1 and gone was the sun. I don’t know how they managed it with such millisecond precision. Well done Girls!! You’re on your way to becoming great rocket scientists.

While those who had their annual bath long overdue ( it’s December……high time certainly) went for a semi-skinny dip, I sat staring at the beautiful crescent moon that replaced the sun. I’ve never had enough of the enigmatic sea or twilight sky and this day was no different. The hues on the horizon were way beyond the words of a poet or the strokes of an artist. Although science has done its best to explain the phenomena of sea breeze, blue sky , tides and red sunset….I wondered will it ever explain all the marvelous patterns on the sky, the intricate designs on the sea shells ….all the wonders of nature. For a moment, I felt so trivial and powerless, being reduced to a trifling point in the infinitum of eternity.

Time to head back. We boarded the bus for our return journey. By the way, I am not going to tell you that I had forgotten my umbrella on the beach which was fetched by 2 of the most benevolent souls of our team. The trip back home, the last stretch, saw our students singing and dancing to their favourite bollywood numbers  mashallah, DKBose, Dhoom machale, crazy kiya re, Sheela ki jawaani and many more. It was nice to see them shed their inhibitions and having fun, giving in to the overruling passion. Don’t forget that the bumpy movements of the bus had a lot to contribute to their rhythmic movements but not entirely. Finally there was a string dedicated songs for all the students and teachers present in the bus.

Back home at 9.30pm, I had a mental recap of the episodes of the entire day. Soon it occurred to me that what we did, had and experienced the entire day was a mini version, a representative of the Indian life and culture. Starting from the initial tardiness to dusty roads and ancient culture and armorous messages on historical monuments ….from shared meals to gurubhakthi, the quality time with family…..from chai party to religious observations and looted bhakthi, bargaining with street vendors and eating at street stalls, from enlightenment under the bodhi vriksh to sea bathing and stray dogs to cricket matches and of course Sheela ki jawani.

What better version of Indian life on CAMPer’s Day Out !

Photo courtesy: 
Dr. Unnikrishnan V.K. 
Mr.Ajeetkumar Patil
 Ms.Archana Hegde

On Adapting to Adaptors

A few months back (or was it years?), I had posted an article on anomia where you can’t recall the names of objects or individuals. Now it’s the time to write about misnomers where the names of things (and in many cases people) don’t suit them at all. I don’t intend to discuss the ill-matched names of individuals as I am not interested in turning friends to foes. Besides, the memory space of my PC would not permit such a long word document.

So, let me stick to the inanimate world. The immediate cause for this article is a petty incident. One evening, I found that my laptop which I had placed on a low chair for charging had fallen off along with the adaptor.

And I thought that to err is human, to forgive is divine and to revenge is devilish.  Well, evidently my laptop didn’t believe in this or preferred to be devilish and turned vindictive on me. Can’t say it stopped functioning, it only refused to get charged. And so it turned out that the vengeful Hamlet was not my laptop but its adaptor. Apparently, it didn’t take easily the fall that befell it, proving to be a misfit for the term adaptor.

I wonder who named the adaptor so, if it can’t even survive a fall from a 1-foot-high chair. It doesn’t show any sign of adaptability, always cribbing and sulking at the drop of a hat….even a drop from a chair. Or does the name indicate that it makes the user get adapted to all its pranks and whims and fancies

I know it has been termed so as it connects electrical equipment to a power supply or for connecting different pieces of electrical and electronic equipment together. That means it gets others well-adapted. In that case, it should be called adaptator (I have already communicated this to the lexicographers at Oxford).

I came to realise the extent of its mal-adaptability when I went shopping for a new one – the fall proved to be quite a pinch in my pocket. There were so many features to be considered- brand, model, make, voltage, wattage and so on and so forth. If one of this a mismatch,…phew ….goes the adaptor’s adaptability. Hey…even I am a better adaptor than that. I don’t stop functioning on falling from a 1-foot-high chair. I survive that almost daily.

All of us are great adaptors. Man has proved himself suitable to survive in the wildest jungles, highest mountains, deepest trenches, darkest mines and hottest deserts. He has already shown his adaptability in the space ships with zero gravity. But seldom do we realise this potential of ours. More often than not, we prove ourselves to be great adaptors even unawarely without giving it a thought. Life evolves into a string of adaptations, happiness depending on how well and how easily you adapt.

I feel the human race has been blessed with a humungous share of this quality a greater part of it in the mind which then drives the body. This leads us through the thick and thin of life, moments of crisis, hours of despair. Though the darkness of the tunnel is initially eerie, you soon find your way, certainly if not easily. And the light at the end of it may blind you for a while but you soon adapt to it as well. 

After all  what are the adaptators called sunglasses for!! 

Picture Courtesy:

1. http://www.norsonic.dk/index.php?sideID=2227&ledd2=1044&ledd1=104 
2. http://swittersb.wordpress.com/2012/07/08/the-light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel-fetch/

Food for Thought

                                  
    
                                   



We all know that the 3 basic needs of any human being are food, clothing and shelter. Technically, air for life sustenance comes even before it. But, often I forget about air – and focus on the other 3, ehm… mostly food. It was a great revelation for me when, amidst a group discussion during my college days, a teacher mentioned that food is something you have for nourishment and sustenance and that we eat to live and not live to eat. I think I had learned this some time during my primary education, but had quite conveniently chosen to forget that basic definition of food which assumed various dimensions in my mind enhancing my corporeal dimensions.
 
 There are many jokes running in the family and among friends about my interest in food. It is always assumed by anyone who knows me that my permanent activity is self-nourishment unless specified otherwise. My dad refers to my diet as “see-food diet”, implying that I eat everything I see.

I must have inherited this penchant for food from my mom who, (as told by my grandparents), as a kid had once asked her uncle if the sevai in the temple would have chutney along with it. Only the uncle was talking about ‘nadaswara sevai’ (classical instrumental music of south India).

?????

                                                                               

                                                                                            

Later in life, I realised that I am not such a great exception in this field. There are many more like me or even worse. For instance, there was this room-mate of mine during my P.G. days who once woke me up at 2 a.m. and said she desperately wanted to have chilly chicken puffs and black forest cake.

                                                         

                        

  There is another friend of mine around whom it’s difficult to be when she is savouring any of her favourites like shawarma. She actually moans, caught in throes of ecstasy, while having these delicacies that the picture may be misconstrued for something else.

Now, moving to the other extreme, there is another class of people following the “see food diet” in that they just see the food and not eat it. Not because they are dying for size 0, but they have never felt the need to eat. Eating is tedious ritual for them. I have actually been told by a friend that she failed to understand how people accomplished this task of eating thrice a day…..!!!! And I still fail to understand how she can even think so.

I take great pride in the fact that my tolerance window for food is very wide. As kids, my sister and I were trained by our mom to respect food and not to fuss over or criticise any kind of food. She never allowed any kind of individual likes/dislikes to affect her menu. Her oft-repeated words were “you’ll eat whatever I make; of course, you can choose not to eat at all in which case the same item (warmed up) will continue to appear on the dining table until it gets over”. So we were always eating whatever she cooked. Oh!! What an easy life she had! Actually, the fact that she was a pretty good cook also helped. I am certifying this for more than one reason. You shouldn’t be left with the feeling that we had a tortured or discontented childhood; nothing could be farther from truth. But most importantly, my mom is going to read this post and it would be in my best interest to keep her happy in view of my impending visit to her.

Thanks to my mom, the reverence for food is so deeply rooted in my mind that wasting even a grain is like committing a sin. But later on, we got to hear from the health and nutrition experts that you shouldn’t consume food to prevent it from going waste as that would only add to your waist which is anyway a waste.

I have been taking the middle path for some time, trying not to add to the waist or to the waste. The prospect of wasting food haunts you especially when one thinks of the hungry emaciated kids in many parts of the world. My sister recently quoted from ‘The Big Bang Tele series” wherein a young guy enters, his arms loaded with pizza, and remarks to his roommate: “Hi! Hope you’re hungry” to which the latter replies-“A friendly sentiment in this country- a cruel taunt in Sudan”.

Now that’s really food for thought…..

Picture Courtesy:

1. http://beaconholidays.com.au/beacons/useritineraryOperation.do?method=userItineraryInfo&itineraryDto.itineraryId=261
2. http://random-thoughts-jotted.blogspot.in/2010/02/see-food-diet.html
3. http://cosmokitchen.blogspot.in/2012/05/sevai.html
4. http://sangeethamegham.blogspot.in/2011/12/nadaswaram-recital-of-wedding-songs.html
5. http://www.chocolatemaking.in/blackforest-cake.html
6. http://tiki.oneworld.net/food/food_home.html
7. http://www.yipscookiesandmore.com/puffs
8. http://www.designmom.com/2012/02/french-kids-eat-everything/
9. http://pufflist.blogspot.in/2010/05/kutis-harlem.html
10. http://sadhillnews.com/2011/05/12/2-million-elementary-school-food-surveillance-program/food-surveillance-food-face-faces-with-food-school-lunch-sad-hill-news001

Just Once More...

Sometimes in life, quite unexpectedly, we meet some people who remain in our lives as an everlasting memory. The interaction with the person may not have lasted long, but the impact of it has. Their faces, we might forget but not their words or deeds. Often you wish you could meet that person once more, just once more.

I can relate an episode with someone, an old lady named Janaki Amma, whom I met in the train while travelling from Palakkad to Calicut. She embarked from and disembarked at some stations in between. This was at least 15 years back and she must have been around 75 years then and I am not sure if she is still around.

From the moment she got into the train, she was entertaining and enlightening us with her light, yet wise words spanning varied topics. I cannot recall the entire conversation as such, but I do remember a few highlights, like when she referred to the refrigerator as a ‘kemudruma’- ie., responsible for lack of health, wealth, wisdom and righteousness. She spoke of how people these days, even her own family, are reluctant to share any of their home-made delicacies with friends or neighbours as the refrigerator allows them to preserve it for themselves. The refrigerator, she said, not just makes us selfish but unhealthy too as old food contributes a tamasic diet thus making people dull and depressing. She felt that love and bonding comes from sharing, but the neo-kemudruma makes a lesser man of a man. A new perspective for us, the not-so-wise souls.

One of the fellow passengers was a young advocate to whom Janaki Amma said that lawyers are the cause of most of the troubles and animosities among people. Most of the disputes which would otherwise have been more or less amicably resolved after a little bit of tongue-lashing are now becoming a mega series of court sessions, red-tapism and a lot of ill feeling, thanks to the intrusion of the lawyers who seem to be the only party benefitting from these tiffs.

She went on to narrate a particular land dispute between 2 brothers in her village that ended with the land being bought by an outsider at a very cheap rate (no one likes to buy disputed land) so that they could meet the expenses of the court case. The interesting fact, she added, was that the buyer was the lawyer himself. I have to mention that throughout this entire anti-lawyer lecture she was giving to the lawyer girl, there was no personal ill feeling transpired.

Yet another matter that I remember her saying is a Malayalam quote that translates to “when four ones come, all four will become one”. For those of us who didn’t understand, she elaborated that the year 1936, in which the Temple Entry Proclamation was made in Kerala, is denoted in the Malayalam Calendar as Kollavarsham 1111. Thus when four 1-s came, all four castes-brahmins, kshatriyas, vaisyas and sudras- became one with the temple entry proclamation allowing people of all castes into the temples. I don’t know, if she had quoted somebody else’s words or if it was her own observation. Anyway, I have never come across such an interesting coincidence any time before or after this incident.

I was just a school girl then, and was too young to actually absorb the essence and significance of her words. I wish I could meet her one more time to experience once more her insight and acumen, to take in once again those words of wisdom, honed by age and experience

Eves' Eve

It’s funny how objectives, methodologies, results and conclusions emerge and evolve during the course of 3-hour outing.

That was a Sunday and I was least inclined to get out of the house when my friend and co-dweller invited me to accompany her to buy rice from her favourite store in the town. I felt it was my moral duty to help her meet a primary need. She lured me by offering to go to a nearby temple as well and anyway, as she said I’d just have to sit behind her on her 2-wheeler.

As the evening approached, she modified her plan expressing the desire to go to the beach and see the sunset and then proceed to the temple. The sea always attracts me, but since a trip to the beach implies a package deal for me with peanuts, candy, popcorn, sand, saltwater and smell of dried fish, I was not game for going to the temple after the beach. So plan is modified- temple out, beach in. Anyway, we had gone that temple a few days back and beach has been on the agenda for quite some days. She added that since we are anyway going to town, she’d buy me the ice-cream she had promised me ages back. So objectives of the trip has now become-beach, rice, ice-cream.

 

Since we got a little late starting from home, she had to drive really fast so as to not miss the sunset. We were literally racing against the sun. This time it was as if time and tide waited for us and we could enjoy the sunset at low tide. 30 minutes and a sugar candy later, we left the beach. That was when she suggested that we could go to Big Bazaar chaat stall and have some bhelpuri or sevpuri. I was more than ready for this as she assured me that this wouldn’t affect her rice shopping as that could be done on the way back, and we don’t know when will be the next time when we come this side of the town. In any case how long would it take to have a paanipuri after all?

From the moment we entered the Big Bazaar, my eyes were on the chaat stall, but her eyes had strayed upwards where on the first floor she spotted the toys’ section with an array of soft toys. Her decision was quick: “ I am buying a teddy bear”.

“For whom?”- I asked.

“For myself. I’ve always wanted a teddy, but never had one.”

Hmm…talk of new objectives evolving!!

Since the chaat stall was overcrowded, we decided to check out the new products in the utensils/toiletries section and ended up buying some totally useless items like toilet soap, rice remaining long-forgotten. After silencing our growling tummies at chaatwaalah, up we went to the toys’ section.

The salesman in that section would be more than familiar with the tantrums of the kids while buying toys; their indecisiveness and stubbornness. But little must he have been prepared for the fuss we adults made in choosing a teddy. There were several choices to be made with several parameters playing:

1.     Species- do you need a bear, panda, rabbit, monkey, dog, frog, goat, elephant, catterpillar or crocodile (imagine hugging a crocodile to sleep….ugh!!!)

2.     Colour-black, white, brown, green(agh…), pink (cho chweet!!), blue (cool) and so on. Familiar arguments like “white is nice but gets dirty fast” ensued.

3.     Size- small, medium, large, very large etc.

4.     Features- shape of nose, location of eyes, length of tail etc.

5.     Texture- shouldn’t be too soft, neither too hard….and of course

6.     Price

Several permutations and combinations of these parameters were examined. Each toy was held, smelled, hugged, caressed and tossed to assess its quality. With 2 of us involved, the confusion doubled. Actually, I didn’t have any strong views as she was buying it; all I was concerned about was the size as I knew I would be the one sitting behind the bike holding it.

Another 45 minutes passed (rice still forgotten), trying out all the 200 toys displayed. 5 kids had come, made their choices and gone, while we ‘aunties’ were still hugging each animal to get ‘the feel’. As stuffed toys were on 25% discount that day, she was determined to take one home.

Finally a decision was made in favour of a 2-feet tall brown teddy bear. It was carried to the cash counter like a VIP amidst other trivial items like soap. When the cashier did not give us the announced discount, a new drama followed with specialists and super specialists in teddy and discounts being summoned. They repeatedly manoeuvred the bar code reader into our teddy’s bottom (I felt like suing them for sexual harassment), and performed some magic on the PC and barcode reader before finally granting the discount.

Soon, we were heading to our next destination, the ice-cream parlour, me sitting behind her hugging the teddy, the size of a 2-year old kid. Needless to say, as we sped, we got second glances from many.

On reaching there, we seated the teddy comfortably on a couch, got our ice-creams and joined him on the couch on either sides smiling to ourselves while the onlookers were presumably laughing at us silently.

It was only when we were leaving the ice-cream parlour that we remembered the original purpose of our coming to town.3 of us next went to the special provision store only to discover that it was closed for the day. Since she had to buy a few more articles, we decided to try another supermarket close by and soon we were searching the racks there, the teddy on her hip (she carries it whenever she is not driving). Here again people were giving us special smiles- some amused and some sympathetic. Having got some of the items, but not her special brand of rice, we proceeded to the billing section where billing and paying was fast, but the cashier took a lot of time giving us the change as he was busy caressing our teddy.

Time to head back home. At our building we found at least 6 people outside which is unusual at that hour. Some cosmic power must be playing to make sure that our embarrassment is by no means left incomplete. While the adults greeted us with strange looks, a little boy came running to us to welcome the new inmate of the building.

Hitting home, we realised that we had planned the evening for rice and temple and are back after an eventful evening with neither achieved but much more.