Happy Mother's Day!

Every child thinks, his or her mother is the most beautiful woman in the world. Poor Aishwarya; she will have to wait. Every mother believes that there is no one else like her kid. She is so right; the outcome of such a laborious – both literally and figuratively – task truly has to be the best.

They say the ones close to you are your greatest critics. Well, in my case it’s my mother. No matter what I achieve, she is always measured in her praises. Recently, when I kept saying no, to her calls to have lunch, she yelled, “Look at you! You weakling”! I retorted, “I may be thin, but I am not weak, you know, yesterday I pushed my motorcycle for 8 kms. You call that weak?”

Oh by the way, the other day, while returning home my motorcycle ran out of fuel and it was 8 km before I could find a petrol pump. I was bragging about that to her. “Well,” she said coolly, “You eat more and you will be able to push your motorcycle farther.” Stony silence at my end, while a smile at hers.

Life is a journey, not a destination. The moment you think you have arrived, you will see new avenues. Take them. Because, the day you don’t see a road ahead, it means only one thing. Metaphorically the dead-end; categorically death! I am beginning to sound dark, am I losing my spark? Okay, to light up let’s get back to the original topic – my mom.

Time and again, I tell my mom to quit her job. I am earning enough to take care. But she won’t listen. She is well over fifty and not too healthy either. However, she carries on relentlessly while setting a new example everyday. She recently showed me an appreciation letter she received at work.

Mom, my laziness notwithstanding, I’d want to follow your footsteps. It’s so difficult for me, though. Sometimes I feel like hating you. But then better sense quickly prevails and I reaffirm my belief – Mommy, I love you! :-)

Pune is my IPL team, but India is my country!

The IPL has caught the nation’s imagination, big time, albeit for more wrong reasons than right. By the recent turn of events one can easily conclude that cricket is no longer just a sport. It’s business. Period. Business can be both ethical and otherwise; and as long as it is raking in the moolah and not too many get offended; it’s good. It’s a different story altogether once the unethical bits are leaked out to public. Then, it can get bad, for some.

Regardless of whatever happens now, there is one question that I ponder over. In fact this is a viewpoint of one of my friends. His question was, “Isn’t the IPL dividing us further?” I think the answer to that is an emphatic YES! I agree; there are players from every culture or ethnicity playing for the IPL teams. Cheerleaders from different countries are dancing to Indian tunes. On the face of it, it’s painting a very nice global picture. But the masses, the common Indians who pay money to watch the game; they are cheering for different teams.

There could be a counter-argument to my premise here. Ranji trophy has been going on for ages. Regionalism has not come into cricket via IPL. But honestly, how many people are bothered about Ranji results? How many people stay glued to the TV sets when a Ranji match is on? Or for that matter, how many television channels broadcast live Ranji matches? Few!!!

I am a Punekar. However throughout the last three IPLs, I’ve been rooting fervently for the MUMBAI INDIANS. Thank goodness, at least they have INDIANS in their team name. But, I’ve been supporting them not for that reason alone. The bigger reason is that my favourite cricketer, Sachin Tendulkar - who calls himself an INDIAN, first - plays for that team. I was one of millions who prayed for his recovery after he sustained that hand injury. I was pleased to see him play the final, and equally disappointed when his team lost.

While this entire cricket extravaganza was taking place, two new teams quietly joined the fray. Next year, we are going to have 10 teams fighting it out to be India’s best T20 side. The two new teams are Kochi and Pune. I am a Malayali, born and brought up in Pune. My natural allegiance would be towards my city, Pune. However my parents would be backing Kochi. There you go; we have a divide right within my family. I also wonder if me or my parents would be praying for any other teams’ players if Kochi or Pune make it to the final. And I just can’t imagine what would happen at my place, if Kochi and Pune play the final. :-)

Having said all that, this competition is good for Indian cricket. It will definitely strengthen the Indian squad. So long as it is healthy, the better. My heartfelt wish is that this lovely country of ours, which prides itself on being united despite the diversity, doesn’t fall prey to yet another kind of regionalism. IPL induced regionalism.

We need our Tiger in our Woods!

I recently saw a campaign by Aircel. It says there are only 1411 tigers remaining in our country. The magnificent beast which we proudly claim to be our national animal is approaching extinction. We need to act.

One of my friends has a funny trait. Almost every night he imagines making love to different women. He has admitted that he more often than not gets wet dreams. Well, testosterone charged male, you’d say. I wish our tigers too were so high up on their libido. For every cub born two or more are killed. We need to stop this.

We all know the reason behind this diminishing number of tigers. We humans poach them. We want their hides, their teeth, their claws or we simply want our mantelpieces to showcase a tiger’s head as a testament to our so called bravery.

My brother-in-law recently told me that a single bullet costs about 36 rupees. Let’s put it to some better use. There are so many other uncivilized beasts in our society that cause us much more harm than a tiger would. Let’s save the bullets, to use against them.

Me and my friends had been to the Pench national park last year and just as we were about to start the tour we were given sweets by the forest guards. We wondered why and they told us that it was a momentous day and they were sharing their joy. That day a tigress had given birth to 4 cubs. I can’t describe the looks on the guards’ faces.

Let’s stop buying anything that is even remotely related to the anatomy of a tiger. Let’s read up, talk, listen and do whatever possible to know what those things are and spread the awareness. Let’s restore our national pride. Let’s save our tiger!

Chip going bananas!

The chip could store. And how! No matter how much effort was put in, it simply wouldn't let anyone erase it's memory. The machine - inside which this chip is installed - has been repaired. The hinges are working fine. It moves like it did when it was new. The new tasks never seem to overwhelm it. It is only a matter of time before it reaches its full potential.

The chip however, is the cause of concern. Not because, it is wearing out. On the contrary, it is just getting stronger. Its data has simply become like an etching on stone. Now, unless this useless data is deleted there won't be room for new. Something needs to be done and done quickly. But replacing the chip would be too drastic a step. The machine will take longer than ever, to relearn whatever it has learnt till now.

Could an additional chip do the trick in the interim? It could store the newer insurmountable but useful amount of data the machine receives everyday. Could it accept so much that the older chip just gives in to the influx and makes space? The machine does stand a chance. New chip needed; badly.

Daaru hain nasha hain!

There is a strange sensation between the teeth. The tongue feels warm, and there is a constant urge to bite. The tongue is safely withdrawn inside the teeth and the molars grind against each other. Every now and then the jaws open a bit and allow the tongue to explore the insides of all 32. The lips have gone dry. The eyes shut for a while and open again. There is a feeling of warmth and there is thirst. You want to laugh and at the slightest joke you would be in splits. There's a burp or two and suddenly you feel hungry. You swallow, you yawn and you keep looking around. This is exactly how I felt after drinking a bottle of kingfisher strong. Cheers!

Get Shorty!

“Hey lets go to café coffee day”! I said. Pat came a reply, “No we are planning to go to CCD.” What the hell, what’s the difference, I thought. I am not the one to hold back my thoughts so I questioned using the same. “CCD is better than your café whatever!” my knowledgeable friend tells me.

Such is the impact of using short forms these days. People tend to become unaware of the actual meaning. “SMS generation!” as Anupam Kher says in Rang De Basanti about today’s youth. Indeed true! SMSes have had a very big role to play in today’s youth being so obsessed with abbreviations.

School was more puritanical in terms of English. We were strictly prohibited from using abbreviations while writing. May be that’s why I received a shock of my life in my 11th standard, when a professor told us to use “betn” as a short for “between”. And what followed hence is for all us to see.

Get the message across quickly seems to be the mantra nowadays. Why not? In this fast paced world nobody has the time. Communicating is more about making the listener understand what you have said rather than being too showy with words. Yes, an ostentatious display of vocabulary may impress a few but it could be at the cost of being misunderstood or being not understood at all.

Using simple words is the way to go and shortening them seems to be even cooler. This is especially true during instant messaging. But there also, people can inadvertently type something they would really not mean. Take for instance, a person typing the following line in the message window. “Hey, can u cum here, fast”? “No, I think I will take some time”. Perfectly innocent looking sentences, right? But, read between the lines and you can see a different picture. Just recently one of my friends asked me, “Am I that beautiful? I don’t really think I am.” I replied “BLITEOTB”. Go figure!

Improve!!!

We keep talking about improving ourselves. Human tendency is to want more and this makes him/her go to any extent to get it. But the question always remains. HOW? How can you say that you have improved yourself? Do you compare yourself with your peers and see where you are lagging and then try to overcome the shortcomings? Or do you idolize certain people and try to be like them? Or further do you ask your closest, about what you need to do to get there? We all tend to do one of these things. But how many times do we ask our own self?

Sometime ago I read somewhere that the best competition you can enter in your life is, where you compete against yourself. I guess it’s a sure shot way of improving oneself. At this moment, say we decide to better ourselves. I think we can assess ourselves by asking questions to ourselves. Be a little practical too and set achievable goals. Then work towards it and by the time you reach the time you set as a deadline you will yourself realize how much you have bettered.

I guess the best thing would be when – your parents say “WE ARE PROUD OF OUR CHILD” or your siblings say “WE ARE PROUD OF OUR SIBLING” or your spouse says “I AM PROUD OF MY SPOUSE” or your friends say “WE ARE PROUD OF OUR FRIEND”. You would have achieved a great deal even if one of these says so. But your life will be fulfilled if ALL say so.

But never forget to say - I am PROUD of myself. :-)

Thank Almighty!

I think of things I got to do. Then there are thoughts about writing something. I seem to have hit a writer’s block. So the first thing to be done is to demand the block to get out of my way. I think it is moving oh so slowly because writing down your thoughts is one thing but creating thoughts in order to write them down is completely another.

Anyway, now that I have started writing let me tell you about an incident that happened during my school days. I was in class 7 and my parents had just bought me a new bicycle. Needless to say, it was then my most prized possession. The very next day I said goodbye to my school-bus and pedaled my way to school. Boy, it was blissful. Many other friends had their own bicycles and there was nothing in terms of envy, around. But as they say in Hindi, “KISIKI NAZAR LAG GAYI” on my cycle.

My neighbor who was also my classmate and who also had a bicycle had damaged his cycle’s lock. So in school we used to lock our cycles together using my wire lock. After returning from school, he used to carry his cycle all the way to the 3rd floor of his building till his house. One day he carried my wire lock along and my cycle was left unlocked in the parking. Then I guess, within half an hour my precious cycle was stolen.

I was distraught to say the least and even though my classmate ferried me double-seat to school and back, I hurled abuses at him for being careless about my cycle. Days passed but my grief wouldn’t subside. On one particular weekend I was alone at home. I went to the room where we had our little temple with idols and pictures of deities. For the next one hour I wept and pleaded to God to somehow retrieve to me what I had lost. It was only when I thought I had no tears left that I stopped weeping.

The next day another neighbor much younger to me and who studied in my school said, “Bhaiya, I saw a cycle very similar to yours in school. It’s locked with a green padlock.” I smiled and thanked him for the info, but in my mind rubbished off any hopes of getting back my cycle. Nevertheless, the next day I carried the purchase receipt of my cycle with me to school. It bore the cycle’s unique manufacturing number.

I walked into the school gate and glanced left to the cycle parking lot. Something caught my eye and I walked towards it. I saw the green padlock my little neighbor had mentioned about. It was of course locking a chain wound around the rear wheel of a bicycle. MY BICYCLE, I thought. I took out the receipt and checked the number. Yes, it was the same. Of all places I had found my cycle in my own school. I called some of my friends and everyone confirmed. That afternoon me and my friends rushed to the cycle parking after school and found who the new owner was. I took down his address and that very evening I and my parents were at his place.

The place was a slum of sorts and the boy’s parents were not returning my cycle. Their argument was that someone had sold them the cycle and they even produced a paper receipt with a revenue stamp affixed. We then threatened them with police action for purchasing a stolen cycle. Now they mellowed down and with some convincing and about 200 rupees my cycle was back with me.

God had heard and my joy knew no bounds as I rode back home on my cycle with my parent’s following in an auto-rickshaw. I also remember getting a bloody lip just before I reached home, but I was too happy to care. Nah, I didn’t get into a brawl or something. I had just bent down to kiss my cycle’s handle while riding when I hit a speed breaker and bruised my lip. After reaching home I thanked my little neighbor first and then most importantly thanked God. From then on, every day even I started carrying my cycle daily to the 3rd floor till my house.

Kalyug???

My mom has a habit of putting the newspaper next to my pillow right up in the morning. I don't think it was deliberate but today morning's front page scared the shit out of me. ASSAM BLASTS - MORE THAN 60 KILLED. This time 3 terrorist organizations seemed to have worked in collaboration.

It's KALYUG I said, when Mom asked me what the hell is going on in India. She replied, in KALYUG fire is gonna be the wrecker in chief. I nodded in agreement and then said we just need to live on with this, because god knows when and where we might die. Yes, live life to the fullest, she said.

But isn't this a self imposed KALYUG? At least the kind of incidents that are happening in Mumbai and some other parts of Maharashtra. In school we used to say a pledge where 3 words stood out. UNITY IN DIVERSITY. Well, in my opinion it is no longer true. The politicians have managed to scatter us so "diversely" that it's nearly impossible to unite. I could sense the fear in mom when she asked me recently, "Are we south indians gonna be the next target?" Words fail me.

It's a shame that we are forced to turn a blind-eye towards the injustice that's happening. But it’s a fact, and let’s face it. WE ARE POWERLESS.

Right now I could think of only one song although the context may be contested. HAR PAL YAHAAN JEE BHAR JIYO, JO HAIN SAMAA KAL HO NA HO.

I got a little sketchy!

There are two things which you need, when you decide to make a portrait. One of course is time and the other is mood. You might argue that one also needs to have the gift to be able to draw. I would say, oh come on, that is so obvious. One wouldn’t want to do something outrageous with the pencil. I think I am quite decent when it comes to drawing and hence give it a shot whenever I can.

So finally after an eternity of sorts, I got into the mood and had ample time. I opened my laptop and browsed through some pictures. I found the one I wanted and I was away. First was the outline of the face. Then the hair, and next were the eyebrows. Now come the toughest part. Eyes. I kept the eraser handy. (Boy, I wish I do a portrait without lifting the pencil).

Nevertheless, the eyes were done in about 10 minutes. The nose and the mouth completed the picture and some finishing strokes produced a draft version. This then went through further modifications after some criticism from Mom and sister. I hope the final version looks alright. See for yourself.

Has it LEFT your WRITE hand?

It has been such a long time since I have HANDWRITTEN something. Feels good to hold a pen again, but somehow my handwriting does not look as good as it used to be. I used to be one of the best in my class as far as drawing and handwriting was concerned. I think I still draw as well, but the quality of my handwriting has certainly taken a nosedive.

Pens and Pencils just ruled my life during school. Fountain pens were a rage then, until ball-pens took over. Then came college where REYNOLDS pens hung in my pockets. They came cheap and with the pocket money I used to get, I could only envy people who flaunted Pierre cardins, Parkers et al.

My pens served their purposes although their use started declining when I started studying computers. Most of our practical assignments were computer print-outs. But yeah, for our theory exams pens answered the questions. Pencils drew the diagrams in some papers.

College got over, and professional life started. Pens were still used but mostly for filling up forms, signing rent agreements, sometimes for writing pseudo-code or ideas while programming or simply for doodling while attending boring training sessions.

Now, with the advent of these online forms and stuff, the pen’s use is further decreased. No wonder that, I have to make a conscious effort to write with a pen. Take for instance, this post which I wrote with a pen first and then typed in on my PC.

Number 23

I recently saw a movie THE NUMBER 23. It is a psycho thriller and it shows how people can get obsessed about a number and make their lives hell.

The examples quoted in the movie were interesting. How certain dates which are historically important add up to 23; how the earth is inclined at 23.5 degrees; how the tropic of cancer and capricorn are at 23 degrees North and South respectively; how there are 46 chromosomes in the human body – 23 from each parent; how there are 23 axioms in mathematics; how the digits of 23 when used in a division like 2/3 leads to 0.666; 666 being devils number.

It’s just a number as the female lead in the movie kept saying. But it sure made everyone else in that movie insane. After watching the movie, I did some math of my own and came up with the following.

1. My initials P and G are 16th and 7th letters of the English alphabet. 16+7=23.

2. My pet name has 5 letters. My first name has 8 letters. My last name has 10 letters. All add up to 23.

3. If I remove the dots from my blog link it has 23 letters. (pacificlotusblogspotcom). Count them to confirm. :-D

4. My year of birth is 1982 and birth month is March (3rd month). 1+9+8+2+3 = 23

5. I was born on a 23rd.

I am also getting obsessed! :-)

Hmm...still thinking!

The other day, I saw a video having an American standup comedian. This guy started off like this; THE MAN I FIND STRANGEST ON THIS PLANET IS OUR PRESIDENT BUSH! I MEAN, WE HAVE A PRESIDENT, WHO’S EYES ARE AS IF HE IS ALWAYS DIRECTLY LOOKING INTO THE SUN… Later he said this; IMAGINE OUR PRESIDENT GETTING INTO A MONICA LEWINSKY KINDA SCANDAL. HE’LL BE PUT ON THE STAND AND INTERROGATED; HE’LL SAY “AHEM! WHAT WAS THAT THOSE GUYS TOLD ME TO SAY HERE?”

The entire video lasted for about 4 minutes, and every second was hilarious and of course insulting to Mr. Bush. I was left wondering at the fearlessness this guy showed, in deriding the world’s most powerful man. What would happen if someone tried that on the PM or some other powerful politician of India? Would there be no protests by the parties? Would it be business as usual?? I doubt it.

There are plenty of issues that need to be looked at. But our NETAs would spring into action only when they are mocked at. We are a nation of more than a billion, but still we talk at great lengths when we win a gold medal at the Olympics. Why is this happening? The citizens are paying their taxes alright, but how much of this is used for bettering the pathetic infrastructure we have; let alone having a budget allocated to create potential Olympic winners. Talk about this and you will get no answers; tease a minister and the police will be at your a**.

Every day when I travel I am continued to be amazed. Amazed at the commuting problems that never seem to end; Trains are never on time. They are getting more crowded. Roads are pathetic. Just some days back my friend told me about a motorcyclist falling down badly, after riding over a pothole thinking it’s not too deep. I see the Pune railway station and the first word that comes to my mind and mouth is YUCK. I don’t know the actual figure but supposedly 36 crore rupees were allocated to Pune railway authorities to make the station a WORLD CLASS one. The money is still resting in the bank accounts (which one; I am not sure).

We need to change. Is someone listening?

Why so serious?

They think he isn’t good enough. They still have him as a friend. As we all know, we wouldn’t befriend anyone we dislike. But if you can keep belittling him and gain sadistic pleasure out of that, then he is good company. Don’t we all like to be pleased? We do. It goes on. They shower advices on him, asking to better himself. He keeps smiling, inwardly thinking it’s not possible. They know his predicament, and enjoy it thoroughly. The advices still keep coming. Amidst all this, they never let go of a chance to take his case. He smiles, sometimes frowns, shows disgust etc. But every reaction of his brings more pleasure to them. Wow, isn’t he good company?

Suddenly, he thinks of changing. He listens to them. He starts to act on their ADVICES. Over a period of time, they see a difference in him. He is getting better. It’s taking time, but times are changing. Now what happens to them? Do they start to like him? I don’t know. But, he is no longer a complete object of ridicule. There are fewer laughs. Now they think he is becoming like them. So all this while they were thinking that they were good. He still considers them as friend. He likes them. But now is he good company? He is no longer giving the pleasure. One day the advices stop. There is no more laughter. Life becomes serious.

Now would you like him? Is he responsible for the seriousness that has crept in?
I don’t blame anyone for this. Everyone needs a good laugh, but should that be at the expense of others? But again, can there be fun without having a scapegoat? I am looking for answers!

Paris tour - Disneyland

Located on the outskirts of Paris, Disneyland sure was the most thrilling experience I ever had in my life. We reached there in a Volkswagen Golf, so it added to the fun. It sure is a great car. After reaching Disneyland, 59 Euros was the price of a ticket and we spent an entire day there. Amongst the many rides we went on, I’d never forget the Aerosmith Rock n Roller Coaster. It took off at may be 200 kmph and went through all sorts of loops and dives. We all had become kids there and you can’t blame us, given the atmosphere we were in. Can’t really write much on this. Here are some pictures.


A castle built to host shows etc.



Replica of a ship of the Pirates of the Carribean - Movie from Walt Disney Corp.


The Hollywood hill. Looks like the real one. eh? ;-)

Paris tour - The Louvre

We alighted at the Concorde metro station. The weather again was good, and the traffic was yet to pick up. After asking directions, we walked for about 15 minutes and reached the gates of a huge park. Most part of the ground was sandy. It was spotlessly clean though. We took some photographs and admired the various sculptures placed there. We then walked ahead and came to a much greener part of the park. This was a tulip garden. The lawns looked beautiful and even more did the different kinds of tulips cultivated there. It was really silent there, except for the birds chirping. Again, the sculptures around there were magnificent.

After enjoying the sight, sound and smell of the tulip garden, we crossed a duck pond and went over to see a tall erect structure. This was an Obelisk. History says that it was presented to the French by the Egyptians. The inscriptions and symbols on that Obelisk cleared any doubts that I had. The Arc du Triumph was visible at a distance. It is said, that when Napoleon Bonaparte won his battles, his army would enter the city through that Arc. The road that lay between us and the Arc is the famed Champs Elysees. We thought of going there later in the day.

We turned back and walked towards the Tulip garden and then crossed a street and stood in front of a gigantic building. It wasn’t its height but the length that amazed me. We were witnessing the world’s largest art museum THE LOUVRE. We entered a glass pyramid in front of the Louvre. This served as the entrance. We bought tickets and then began our journey through the history of art.

For the next five and a half hours, we saw arguably the most aesthetic things man has ever made. Still we could cover just about 20 percent of the Louvre. People say, it takes about a week to completely tour the Louvre. We saw Spanish paintings first then some sculptures. Then we moved on to the French art galleries. There was so much to see; each work of art in a class of its own. We were relentlessly clicking away with our cameras. We also saw some art students getting lectures from a professor. Some of them were sketching the portraits they saw there. I marveled at their wonderful ability.

We next went to the Italian section. The paintings continued to impress me. But, what stunned me the most were the paintings made on the ceilings. Complete to every single detail, it left me and I’m sure many others there in a daze. We then came to a grand hall, which was extremely crowded. We entered it to discover that it was where the great Leonardo Da Vinci’s work of art was on display. Mona Lisa stared us in the eye. There was security fence kept there about 15 feet from the painting. It’s about a 4 by 3 feet big portrait of a (I don’t know if I can call her beautiful) lady. Cameras kept flashing. People just didn’t seem to get enough of Mona. Well, in my opinion it’s just another painting. Run of the mill, I’d say. I thought the other paintings in the Louvre were much better. Nevertheless, we too clicked quite a few of her pictures.

We then saw some more of Da Vinci’s work, and moved ahead. We saw the Egyptian sculptures, some Persian work of art, and so on. We then came to the English art gallery. Here we saw the coronation crown and other precious jewels of the Queen. I was stunned for a second, as I stood in front of things worth millions. We then toured the chambers of Napoleon. It was regal. On one of the ceilings hung a chandelier, which was easily the biggest I’ve ever seen.

We wrapped up our visit, with a trip to Babylonia. This was a section where paintings and historical notes were preserved. All of them, referred to Babylon; a city which was believed to be heaven on earth, the most prosperous one which every king wanted to have.

There was a lot more to be seen, but we ran out of time. With a hope of revisiting it sometime in future, we left the Louvre. It was exhausting, but well worth it. We then went to Champs Elysees, had some snack at a side walk café and just strolled around to see shops of some of the biggest brands in the world. No wonder it’s touted as the most expensive street in the world. Shopper’s paradise; provided you have that much to spend. One of our friends we made in France picked us up from there. We did some more sight seeing around Paris. It was almost midnight when we reached our hostel. We immediately fell asleep, and we had to as the next morning we had planned to visit DISNEYLAND.

Paris tour - Eiffel tower

1400 hrs; the weather was sunny and Paris looked beautiful. We started our tour of Paris, with the map held firmly. There was a chill in the air, as you would expect in European countries, but it felt refreshing. There’s hardly any pollution. Just then I smelt a stench in the air, which brought me back to earth. We were just passing a fish market. The stench was bearable now. Psst... I love fish; especially the edible ones. My manager also is a non-vegetarian so we both stood there looking at the varied species of fishes and other sea creatures. After gulping the imaginary dishes, we carried on walking.

The Eiffel tower was in sight. I was getting excited, and my feet started moving faster. After crossing many buildings and streets, we arrived at the lawns next to the tower. Trust me friends; it is an absolutely amazing piece of engineering marvel. A steel structure that’s humongous which will leave you in awe. I took some photos. My joy knew no bounds when my manager said, about going to the tower top. He readily went ahead and stood in a queue to buy tickets to the top.

Meanwhile, I went to a stall nearby and bought a hotdog. I was a little tired; hence I sat down on a bench right under the tower and started eating. People of all kinds were present there; each one of them eager to reach the top. I was quietly munching at the hotdog, when I heard a female voice. “Do you speak English?” it asked. I looked up and nodded.

In front of me stood a tall, slim white girl, who handed me a letter. It read that she was from Bosnia her father was suffering from leukemia and needed help. I got up and said, “I don’t have much money!” and I searched my trouser pockets. I did find some money, but it certainly was not enough to cure her father’s cancer, if that was true by the way. I gave it to her. I almost felt her lean towards me. It was nothing else but anger. Forget THANK YOU, she instead cussed me in Bosnian or god knows which language and walked off. I looked around, and sat back again to finish my hotdog.

My jaws hurt, as I wondered why the bread was so hard. I was dying to eat some Indian food. Nevertheless, we got the tickets and we waited for the elevator to arrive. It did and a good number of people got in. Next, it started the ascent which wasn’t the normal straight up, but rather a steep climb. This is to accommodate with the shape of the tower. There are 4 such elevators in each of the tower’s foot. Anyway, we reached the 1st floor, and even from there the city looked sensational. We were at quite a height. We took some more snaps and had to be careful with our cameras slipping away with the gale that was blowing. We circled around to do a complete sight seeing.

We were still not satisfied. We next bought tickets to the absolute top of the tower and reached there. I just couldn’t believe my eyes with the view from up there. You just got to be there to experience it. We clicked away with our cameras, this time more careful with the wind getting stronger. Again we circled around and came next to a glass room. Inside that room stood 3 men absolutely motionless. I pressed my nose against the glass and watched. Only after a close look did I realize that these were wax statues of Sir Eiffel.

It was almost a couple of hours that we had spent on this tower. Our tummies had started complaining and we willy-nilly started our descent back to ground. Once down, we made plans for the next day. We decided to visit the Louvre. For those who don’t know; it is the world’s largest art museum. We walked back to our hostel after having dinner and slept soundly. Mona Lisa was waiting for us and we had to see her next morning.

A "NICE" Experience - Train to Paris

It was about 5.30 am, when I handed over the keys of my room and checked out of Novotel hotel in Nice. My manager stood next to the cab we had summoned and after we both got in, the cabbie sped his Renault towards the Nice Railway Station. After a 20 minute drive, we reached the station. I was startled at the exorbitant fare that was charged. It was a ripping 35 Euros (roughly 2240 INR). Anyway our train was to depart in about 15 minutes hence we didn’t bother too much. I was bubbling with joy at the prospect of reaching Paris, which was our destination. The announcement was made and we boarded our train. This was a double-decker TGV. Train Grande Vitesse is what the French call it.

We had window seats on the top deck. After settling into our seats, I just looked around. Tell you what; the interiors were magnificent. I was compelled to take some snaps of them. I got up to take a stroll along the gangway. I walked a few paces and turned back. The seats were really good and on one of them sat a cute girl. She had a beautiful smile and was talking something in French to her mother. I just could not take my eyes off her, and she looked at me and smiled. I asked her mother if I could take a picture of her daughter. She readily agreed. The moment I focused my camera on her, this little SIX YEAR OLD held the back of her left hand under her chin, rested the right hand horizontally and smiled straight into the lens. What a pose! I thanked her and her mom, patted her head and walked back to my seat.

I bought some refreshments as we approached Marseille. The TGV seemed just like our desi express trains until now. I was later told that from Nice to Marseille the tracks don’t handle high speeds. After a 5 min halt in Marseille the train started again. I hoped and prayed for the train to pick up some speed. Slowly, the train gathered momentum and after about 5 minutes, the TGV was hurtling at a speed which I had never traveled before. 300 plus kmph; I was told later. The amazing thing about this was near zero turbulence. A cup of coke kept on the foldable tray next to my seat, stayed undisturbed. 900 kms and five and a half hours later we alighted at the Paris railway station. The little 6 year old girl smiled again as she disappeared into the Parisian crowd.

We stopped at the nearest enquiry counter. It was really pleasing to see the lady over there, help us although her English was broken. She guided us to the Metro station, handed us the Paris tour map and wished us a pleasant stay in Paris. We then reached the metro station and boarded the train to reach Voluntaires, where we had done our reservation in a youth hostel. A ten minute walk from the metro station took us to Aloha hostel. After making the payment, we dumped our luggage into the luggage room. After resting for a while we started our tour of Paris on foot.

The little 6 year old. :-)

A "NICE" Experience - Monaco

After 4 days of training in Nice, I and my manager were extremely thrilled. Thrilled - for two reasons - first, we had a good feedback from the participants. They thought we were adept at training and had helped them learn quite a lot about our software. Secondly, one of our participants (lets call him A) had agreed to take us on a guided tour of Monaco. Monaco is a principality in South France, bordering Italy.

We went back to our hotel rooms, freshened up and were ready to leave for Monaco. At about 6.30 PM I, my manager and two other Irish participants who stayed at the same hotel as us waited for A to pick us up. Shortly, we all were comfortably seated into A’s Saab. Tell you what; it’s an awesome car. 25000 Euros is what it cost him. It took us about 15 minutes to get out of the traffic in Nice. Once we reached the freeway A stepped on the gas and that’s when I realized the power of Saab. Soon we were zipping along the picturesque South France freeway, to our destination; Monaco.

Half an hour later we were in Monaco. The parking was 5 floors below ground level. Excellent space management I must say. We got back on GROUND by taking an elevator. Then we started our tour de Monaco - on foot. The Mediterranean looked majestic from a fort like structure we were standing on. To the right of the sea was a bay with the famous Monaco yacht-yard. They were in all sizes. All of them looked magnificent. I was told; they belonged to some of the richest people in the world. Monaco citizens don’t have to pay income tax. So the rich use it as an investment hub. The weather was cool, and we continued walking until we reached the Monaco formula one circuit. The feeling of stepping on to that tarmac was exhilarating; a dream come true. There was more to come.

We then walked on further, and saw a palace. It belonged to the prince of Monaco. Then we carried on walking until we reached one of the posh localities of Monaco. A 5 star hotel, a grand casino and some real posh stores stood there. I stood there mesmerized. Amidst that I heard A call out my name. I looked towards him and he pointed me to something.

What I saw next, will remain etched in my memory forever. A shining black 4-seater car with an emblem one would die to even see on TV. I went ahead and touched that car. The emblem of course, was a prancing horse and the car was a FERRARI. That’s my dream car. Goodness gracious me! I was literally ogling at that beauty. I took at least 6 different photos of that splendid automobile. If that wasn’t enough I next saw an Aston Martin parked there, then a BMW convertible, Porsche Carrera, Mercedez Benz limo et al. I have never seen a more expensive car parking.

We also went inside the Casino. No, we didn’t put any bets there, but just the mere interiors of that place were stunning. Lit up, as if electricity was free, it was resplendence at its very best. We loitered around and then moved out, and continued our sight seeing of Monaco.

I didn’t want to get out of that place, but had no choice. After having dinner at a roadside café, we moved into A’s Saab and started back to our hotel. The next morning we had to start another trip; a trip to the fashion city; Paris.

A "NICE" visa

10 A.M. The French Consulate, Nariman Point Mumbai. I am waiting in the queue for getting my French visa. Token 17 is flashed on a screen and I walk towards counter no. 3. Seated inside the counter, protected by thick sound-proof (may be even bullet proof) glass, is an Indian guy in his late twenties. He has a microphone and an ear-piece attached to his head. He asks me to pick up a telephone receiver placed outside the counter. He starts asking me questions, as he reads through the visa application form and the other documents. After the usual questions like where are you headed, how long will you be there, who is paying for your stay etc. he asks me the flight I am going to take. I reply, “I am flying by Emirates, from Mumbai, we reach Dubai, then take a connecting flight to Nice (France) with a stopover in Rome.” “What are you talking sir?” he asks me with a frown. “What?” I question back. He continues,”Here I have a ticket copy which says you are going by Air France”.

I now start getting the heebie-jeebies. Let me tell you; the visa can be declined on this ground. “Wait, I can explain that.” I protest. “The ticket copy that you have is an older one. The flight has been changed and now I will be going by the Emirates flight. I have a print-out of the new ticket with me; I will show it to you.” He looks at me for a second and then says, “Alright, show it to me!” I immediately start searching my bag, kept on the floor. Front pocket - nothing found, middle portion - nope not there. Where the hell is the print-out? I start getting all sorts of negative thoughts now. About a minute has passed now and I am still searching.

I then hear a knock at the glass window above. The guy looks as if he is going into conniptions. “Pick up the receiver!” He motions me from inside. I do as he says. “Listen! You move away from the counter and keep searching. You cannot waste our time like this.” He yells on the microphone. I feel embarrassed to the hilt, but keep a straight face. I move back and take a seat. Now I can hear my own breath. Yes. I am worried. Well, I wait for the next applicant to settle her interview. She comes out clean. The interviewer was at his smiling best when the opposite gender was there. But to be honest, she did have all her documents intact. She leaves the counter and then the interviewer looks again at me. I look up at him. His smile instantly disappears. He nods his head and I walk back to the counter.

“Can you get the ticket copy now?” he asks. “I can get a print-out. I have it in my email. I’ll need to find a cyber café somewhere. Till what time, is this office open?” I can’t believe I am asking such a question in a Visa consulate. “You take your own time sir.” There is a lot of sarcasm in his tone, but I don’t care. I tell him that I need about an hour. By now, the interviewer seems to have cooled down. He tells me to give my finger prints and takes my picture. He then tells me to hurry up and get the new ticket copy. Somewhat relieved, the next moment, I am scampering out of that building, looking for a cyber café.

I am down at the gate of the consulate building. I walk for some distance. Nothing, even remotely similar to a cyber café, is in sight. All I see are towering commercial buildings looking down at me, as if to say, “Hee hee lil fella, what are you gonna do now?” I ask a passerby if he knows about any cyber café. He says I’d have to go as far as Churchgate to find one. Heck! That place is a good half an hour walk from here. I turn back towards the consulate building and think of calling my cab, when I see something. Right across the street, adjacent to the consulate building is a shop with a board saying XEROX. I just walk towards it with a glimmer of hope. I ask the shopkeeper, if he knows of any cyber café close by. He points his hand towards the interior of shop. Whoa! There is a little board inside with the word INTERNET under an arrow sign. I rush inside and find just 2 computers. Lady luck is with me as only one of them is occupied. I immediately log into one, and open my email inbox. I get the email I want. I take a print; make a couple of photocopies and with a very distinctive smile on my face, run back to the consulate.

Within half an hour, my passport is in my hands, with the first ever visa stamp. In a week’s time I’ll be boarding my first ever international flight. I am elated to say the least. As I walk back out from the office, one of the peons congratulates me. She is kinda kind. I remember, her telling me not to worry and things will be fine, when I was running to get the ticket printout. Well, it sure is fine and I snuggle into my cab to get back to Pune.