The Cake Story

For the love of baking.
Its like making love. 

Lots of foreplay goes in when you beat eggs, add sugar, pour in the melted butter, gently fold flour and add some cream.
And then you can dip your fingers in the batter and taste it to know how well the ingredients have mixed... if it does not taste good enough add some more vanilla. When the cake is in the oven and it rises, the aroma fills your senses like an aphrodisiac.... To know that the cake is perfecto...insert a fork in the middle... if it comes out clean your cake is done...

#foodgasm #excerpts #formymuse

A Tribute To Artisans

Their hands are lofty,

Soaked in clay;

That’s  the only game,

They know to play.

The hands that labour,

Through needles and pins;

Intricate patterns come to life,

Like a peacock fluttering its wings.

Passing thoughts and messages,

Through the craft they mould;

Handing down legacy,

As stories unfold.

Masters of their craft,

With limited scope;

Lets acknowledge their efforts,

And give them a little hope.

Endlessly transforming,

Clays into mugs,

Threads woven to rugs.

Their work reflect their soul,

Many more stories,

Yet to be told.

Mirror of their thoughts,

Masters of their imagination;

A world without thme,

Would be an empty illustration.

Encourage their labour of love,

And the beauty of imperfections.

Known by many names,

Artisans they are,

We hope, beauty in their silence remains.

And the link to the videohttps://goo.gl/photos/H67PjMe3FdF4ZtME8

 

CHAPTER – V - UNKNOWN (AS OF NOW)

Two months ago exactly around this time we were together… walking amidst slushes… and for me letting the feeling to sink in that we were together….

I did not know if I was happy and excited or nervous.

And there are chapters to write about the things that have happened in between these sixty days.

Sixth sense is precise…but yet I keep my fingers crossed. Because it’s you..

I remember our return journey…

We were undecided, whether to hop on to the train where we had an A/C II Tier tickets booked or hitch- hike with our friends…

But we got practical and decided to hitch-hike till midway and then hop on to the train.

The return from Ziro to Nirjuli was an annoying one for me… I, for starters like to have a bath before wearing a set of fresh clothes. But we were running short of time. So I changed without a shower and breakfast. The journey was dusty… famished to the bones… yet we knew we would be in time to catch the train.

We reached Nirjuli around three in the afternoon. And our train was at nine at night.

I looked at my Monk and said, “Let’s go to Itanagar.”

He looked at me quite clueless-ly. This was his first visit to the North East and I was the one who had travelled widely on these exotic terrains.

We took a cab and proceeded towards Itanagar which was roughly twenty odd minutes. I almost wanted to ask the driver to stop the car when I saw a wine shop, and he asked me “Why?”

“I need some beer”, I told him.

“Beer?” he asked as he raised his eyebrows and continued, “Why do you need beer now?”

“I have a craving for some beer. I want to have a good bath, chill down my system before I head home to my regular routine”, I said.

“Why do you need beer? We will have some good sex”, he replied.

I looked onto him questioningly.

He thought for a while and said, “See we have spent such amazing days together. Early morning sex followed by lots of cuddling and spooning… a huge breakfast… nice baths… long walks… Apong…music… more Apong and more music …some food and the sleeping right next to you feeling your warmth and falling asleep and snoring afterwards”.

I smiled. Yes! I had the time of my life… I don’t know what that meant to him or what that means to him now. But these are the moments I will always cherish.

So yes… after twenty minutes or so we reached Itanagar and checked into the Hotel I always did when I visited this place twice a month for my sales targets. It swanky… spacious and super clean.

By the time I was happy with my extended and luxurious warm shower, I knew he had asked one of the waiters to get some Budweisers and smokes.

As I applied a body moisturizer, he switched off the A/C. I grabbed the remote from his hands and put the A/C on again.

“I am feeling cold’, he said.

“But we are paying twenty two hundred fucking bucks for four hours. We must make the best use of it”, I replied.

He looked quite disappointed and said, “What about me?”

I pointed towards the chair across the bed, near the dressing table and told him, “You can make yourself comfortable there”, as I lay on the bed, with the pillows as a head rest and looking at him to say something.

He arranged the coffee table neatly, poured the beer on to the glasses, pushed my glass a bit and took his and sat on the chair I had pointed towards.

We did a “Cheers” and sipped on to the beer.

After a while I asked him, “Why are you so far?”

“Because you wanted to”, he replied.

Without saying anything, I took the remote and switched off the A/C.

“That was not necessary”, he said.

And after the beer was over, he said, “let me take a shower”.

“Lets go together”, I said.

“No! I want a shower on my own”, he said, as he tried to kiss me.

I pushed him apart and said, “Go”.

That is the way things are between us – The Monk and The Mistress… the way he terms it.

With the Monk, its not about being without clothes on or off… its so much deeper than that… we share our inner most secrets…fears… insecurities and we know the time is not right.

He is the one I want to get old and wrinkled.

And when we hopped on to the train… we were reading some spiritual writings together. I do not remember anyone with whom I have read chapters together and discussing thereafter.

“I want to kiss you”, he said as we were about to sleep. I was on the lower berth and he was on the upper.

“Now?”, I asked him.

“Now”, he replied.

“I never stopped you”, I said and we kissed for a long time, no having a care in world or for the life of mine who was looking.

I do not know when sleep set in….

I am an early riser. I was looking out of the window onto the dawn when my phone beeped.

“Good Morning!”

“I love you”, he messaged me.

I read them and replied, “I love you too. Why don’t you come down?”

And now after two months, my Monk is either always “busy”, “tired”, “sleepy” or is in his “zone”.

I feel neglected… I feel disappointed.

At the same time I know he talks less… finds it difficult to express and I believe he is seriously busy… tired…sleepy or is in his zone…

But to look on to the better side of things… on one Diwali he had messaged me “Happy Diwali”… this was after a gap of almost a year and half when we had a misunderstanding… but this time around he made it a point to call me up and wish me a “Very Happy Diwali Nans!”

I love you my Monk… you will never guess or know how much… but I am happy with these feelings… though at times it pains a lot.

FOR THE LOVE OF CHEESE

For the love of cheese... its one comfort food I can have and not count the cals.

This reminds me of my first boyfriend smile emoticon
That was so long ago. I was 16 and he was 27! Our relationship which lasted for three years was more like a father-daughter... I was jumpy and babyish and he was the calm thoughtful and sensible one. At times I'd fret and fume when I compared my relationship with the ones my friends had... they would go out on bikes to Shillong... attend wild parties.... but Mr. Leo was a no bike no party person. He was more into cars. He did take me out on long drives but that was far and in-between. My friends on the other hand always told me I was luckier because I always got the chance to go on drives in different cars!!!

He was affectionate and he shortened my name to Naan... and from Naan to Butter Naan... and finally I was Butter!!! I used to hate it and make grumpy faces.... 

"I love cheese", I told him once.
"I can't call you cheesy Naan... it gives altogether a different meaning", he replied without smiling.

We broke up when he started double timing me.
I was in tears.

The day his marriage got fixed he reached out to me. This was five years after we broke up.
"I am settling down", he said.
"So?", I asked him. I had moved on in life and meeting him again opened my wounds.
"Do not ever try to talk to me. Ignore me forever", he said.
I wanted to slap him. But because I truly loved him and because he was older than me I changed my mind.
"What do you think? I have a lot self respect and I would not like to play with it. You have shattered me", I said.
"What do you mean by shattered? Did I make you pregnant? For that matter we never got physical, to begin with in the first place", he said.
"Go", is all I told him.
"What?", he asked.
"Get lost", I said and I could feel tears filling up my eyes.

Its a different story that I got married to a family where he is a family friend.

Once he tried breaking the ice.... told me, "At least you can smile if nothing else", he almost pleaded.

I smiled and said "But I am not cheesy. And you asked me to ignore you about ten years ago. This much I can do for you right?"

   

RANTS – Because I have to get it out of my system Chapter – IV

A lot of things happened in a short time. I got a job which was not for me in the first place. There was a query if I knew anybody who would be willing to work as a counselor for an institute. I thought and re-thought and decided to apply for the job myself. There was a call from the Bosses’ Boss one day; we spoke for a very long time and the next day I was informed I got the job! So that “long telephone chat” was apparently my interview!

So there I was; back in the “work mode” after seven years. It felt good. At the same time I was edgy, nervous and doubted if I would be able to deliver.

The day I actually walked into the office and met my Boss, I just told him one thing, “I need four days off. Technically it’s only two days as because 25^th is Eid and 27^th is a Sunday. If this is acceptable then I am joining. I do not like lying. I could have easily made up a story for my missed days but let’s be clear and open from day one.”

“Where are you going? Why do you need the leaves?” my Boss asked me, as he sipped his cup of tea.

“Ziro. I am going for the music fest. Everything has been planned and I don’t want to back out at the last moment and ditch my friends”, I replied very assertively.

He thought for a while, walked out of his room to the pantry, which is also the “smoking zone”. He lit a cigarette and looked at me. I was standing near the door.

He extended the packet of cigarettes to me and said, “Do you smoke? You want to have one now”?

“No, I don’t want one right now”, I said and also added a “Thanks”.

I was waiting for an answer. He took such a long time for that.

“Okay!” he said. “You can go. I appreciate your frankness. But do not switch off your phone and internet.”

So that was it. I was happy. No! I was super thrilled.

But my happiness was short lived. One week on to the job and I had a major accident.

It was the regular early morning mad rush. I was making breakfast and I don’t know why and how it happened. I spilled some very hot water on myself, which I wanted to throw it in the basin. Think I lost my balance and the water from the saucepan churned like a wave and fell on me.

The pain was bad. More than the pain I could see the skin coming out and the sight was ghastly. I immediately took off my chain from my neck and my tee too. I had burnt myself badly. Things were horrible from neck down. All I could wear for the next few days was very light cotton stoles to cover me minimum.

My doctor when examined me said, I was taking this matter too lightly. My burns were what he termed as “second degree burns”. It wasn’t burns actually. It was scalding.

And after working from home for a week, I had to go to office one day. It was important and Bosses’ Boss also requested me to come to office for about an hour or so. I was picked up from home and dropped back too. 

But for the first time in my life I stepped out of my home without wearing a bra! It felt awkward. I was wearing a very loose top and covered myself with a sole. Yet I felt everyone knew I was braless and that made me dreadfully uncomfortable!

I told him the day this mishap happened, “Guess what, I spilled some hot water on myself and things are bad neck down. Its painful. And it looks quite horrifying”.

He was shocked.

“Please look after yourself nicely. I wish I was there to comfort you”, he told me.

Much later he told me, “ I don’t need the skin, I need your soul Nans”.

A few days later he asked me, “Nans, can you make it?”

“Why not?”, I replied.

We still had three weeks in hand and by then my wounds would heal completely.

Its altogether a different story that the ugly scars are still there.

RANTS – Because I have to get it out of my system Chapter – III

I like to plan everything well in advance. Especially if it means I am travelling. It all started from a casual conversation and it got serious and saw the living day lights.

Both of us are music lovers. Both of us wanted to meet and see each other at least for once… it was one long overdue.

I wanted to go to Dharamsala; do Vipassana in His Holiness The Dalai Lama’s Monastery. He said he was game for it too. But man proposes and God disposes. One thing led to the other and it all narrowed down to Ziro… the Ziro Festival of Music (ZFM).

Planning began much earlier. It was the hot and humid month of July. We were in-sync.

In the mean time I did a bit of networking and called up people who had been to the ZFM earlier and if not the Fest, they were hard core travelers like me who knew the terrain well as well as what the scene would be like.

I had been to Ziro earlier but that was all related to work and I never paid attention then… all I wanted to achieve was my shampoos, sun-screens, body lotions and lip and nail colours get off the godown shelf before they hit the best before/expiry date. That would save my ass and my targets would have been complete. But yes Ziro was a beautiful place. This is all I could recall about Ziro.

By the first week of September we were all set. My networking backfired because the people I relied on were all trippy guys who talked more and did less. Not that I blame them. It’s all okay!

And in the meantime the three months I had in my hands I wanted to tone down myself. I had not seriously worked out for a while now. It’s bad…. Laziness just got the upper hand. I was de-motivated to “yoga” alone and my uphill walks almost came to a halt thanks to the incessant monsoons.

To make things look good one day I sent Monk a text, “I have put on so much of weight and I hate myself’

“I like it a little curvy”, he replied.

I rushed to have a good look of myself in the mirror… I was not happy. I opened my photo albums in Facebook and looked at the pictures we took the first time we had met… it was somewhere around Oct 2010. I looked fatter and uglier than what I looked now. So that was satisfying. At least for my senses if nothing else.

RANTS – Because I have to get it out of my system - Chapter II

I do not see any traces of myself in all that you do. It’s completely alright. I do understand what limitations are. Unlike my own self – when I went out of my way to tell the world what it is like to be a part of you; no matter how short-lived it was. As long as it lasted it was the most beautiful phase of my life. 

I found me. I was nervous at first. I hardly remembered a time in the recent past when I was “me”. It took a while to let that feeling sink in. And I slowly and steadily I began to enjoy my existence. I had forgotten what it was to be like me.

And did I ever thank you for that? No? Seriously? I didn’t?

It took us such a long time to make this moment happen. And I think the whole Universe transpired to allow us this fleeting togetherness … it was very much needed.

I stumbled upon something very interesting yesterday and it goes like this – “there will always be a reason why you meet people. Either you need them to change your life or you are the one that will change theirs.” – Author Unknown.

We both have been through hell and high waters in our own separate lives. You have known it all and so do I. There have been times when we were not even in talking terms. I laugh now. That was such a childish thing to do. Now when I look back, yes, it did hurt me when we were not communicating at all. I missed you badly. It took a while but gradually I got over it. It wasn’t easy. But I managed to accept the fact we’d never talk again, leave seeing each other, that seemed next to impossible.

I clearly remember the message you sent me after a hiatus… was it after a year and half?

“Happy Diwali Nans”

That was the first message I read the next morning after Diwali. I checked the message and the sender's name twice to be sure it was you.

I felt vulnerable as I replied you back “A very Happy Diwali to you too”; and after all these years I still feel that way when it comes to you.

So we were back talking. Our conversations were short. Basic. Sometimes there were long intervals of silences.

But as of now I fear this silence. It’s my insecurity? Yes it is! 

I took me a long time to put back together a very damaged me… from a very agonizing relationship. It still scares me every time I think about it. Think those damages were yet to heal when we met after five long years of wait.

And as those five days after five years of wait, were nearing an end I secretly whispered a prayer to God, “Dear God, please don’t make the Monk stone cold once we part ways and return to our own respective lives”.

 

RANTS – Because I have to get it out of my system

This is going to be a very confusing write – up/ blog/ feelings …. Whatever you may decide to name it by the time you reach to the end of this whole thing its absobloodylutely okay!

AS OF NOW

It’s not been easy for me… to get you out of my head… my system and in totality. To be honest I seriously do not want to let that feeling go. I love to hold on to those moments. Which mean so much to me. But on the practicality it is so difficult to function normally, to get back to my regular routine and carry on with the life of mine the way it is and the way it was… I hope for a change… a better one… but then you see, life is such you have to wait… to anticipate… its never like a transaction you did inside an ATM counter. Blame me… for my restlessness… my impatience… there are times and instances when I seek answers and results “Right here …Right now…”

This is perhaps one of the reasons why I intimidate people.

But you are different. With you I tend to lose a track of time … about where I am… about the situation and surroundings I am in.

With you…at least to know that you are there… forget the geographic locations… the miles… just that you are there in my friends list in Facebook…. In Whastapp…and in Instagram too makes me feel close to you…especially when you “like” something I just posted. There is a strong urge to get back to you immediately… to message you because I know you are “online”…. But I restrict myself.

I don’t want to suffocate you… and I have told you this over and times again… but as you know me “in my own times… the I, Me, Myself” times I end up sending you messages which later I feel I should not have sent you. It’s so very me… I don’t wanna sound clingy. I never have been one… especially when I have grown up on my own having lost my family when I was just learning about life. And maybe it’s one of the reasons why I bother you so much… I cannot let you go… I mean I cannot let go the feelings… the ones I share with you. It means so much to me. You give me the wings to fly and explore my own soul.

I wish I was a poet… a lyricist and a vocalist. I’d sing and dedicate all of them to you. But here I am now. Just an ordinary mortal. Who have been through a lot... been there and done that. Who learnt the hard ways of life just by fluke ….

But why on the earth I am telling you this!

Sometimes I feel you really do not care and there are times when I feel you do but you are scared to let out those feelings because you have never been in love truly… at least for a decade now?

I have this uncanny fear… I have been to the moon and back and that is what precisely scares the hell out of me…

Sorry state of my life … its messy… my heart… my head… my brains… my soul and everything else that encompasses me… but I embrace that mess with all my might… because at the end of the day that is one and the sole reason which keeps me going.

 

The Land of Country Music, Guitarists and Football Lovers

                                           Chapter I -  On the way home

I don’t know when I fell asleep. The screeching brakes of the car woke me up. My left arm felt numb. I don’t know how long I had held on to the handle right up there on the left side of the car hood. I had held I quite tightly, blame the roads – the zig-zags and the death traps…

As I opened my eyes all I could see was dense fog. The driver was maneuvering the curves slowly and for the first time we spoke.

I looked into him and asked, “Where are we”?

“About to reach Umium Lake”, he replied.

I sat up straight, stretched my arms, rotated my head in clock and anti-clock wise direction and looked at the watch. It was close to 01:45 hours. The Baul music was still ear-piercing. Not that I am saying this with disregard. I was wondering how could I have dozed off with such loud music blaring from the car stereo and my earphones glued to my ears still playing rock classics!

I had been travelling close to twenty hours now. I’d home in another three hours. The nearer I was reaching home the urge to get out of this travel schedule, to cozy up in my own bed in  my ultra faded and over worn tees soared… and I knew I’d not move an inch for the next day. I’d hibernate for a day.

My mind is always full of thoughts. I did not hear what the driver was telling me. Its only when he nudged me I looked at him and asked, “What”?

“”Why don’t you go back to sleep”? , he said.

I looked behind me. The two women with an acutely irksome nasal voice were finally asleep. The two men travelling with them were asleep too snoring away. They were my co-travellers since 18:00 hours. And I must tell you they made my journey quite horrifying. Firstly they reached the taxi stand late; secondly they spent about forty five minutes in the railway station trying to get a refund for a missed train; thirdly they had nauseating body odor and fourthly in that terrible nasal tone of theirs they were singing songs!

I looked at the driver and said, “They all are finally shut” and we both laughed cheekily!

“No, I am not sleeping. It gets quite monotonous for the driver to keep steering when everyone shuts eye, especially the one sitting in front. This is what I do when I drive. So let me be awake”, as I told him checking my phone for yet one more time if there were any notifications.

And we got talking, about his life and mine, until at one point I felt I almost hallucinated… sleep was coming back and my eye lids felt heavy.

 

THE JOURNEY OF MY LIFE - ZIRO

How strange it seemed when I secretly wished this journey of mine should have never ended. I came back leaving a part of me there. My happy part!

It was not my maiden visit. I was in Ziro a few years ago when I had sales target to achieve. At that time I did not pay much attention to the place or the journey as my mind was occupied with so many things. But this time around things were different.

I was restless, my palms sweaty. I wanted the wheels of the train to get rolling as soon as possible. My friend sitting on the opposite berth was observing my uneasiness and finally asked me why was I not calm. I did not have an answer. Now when I think about it, I feel it’s because I wanted to get out of my home town badly, to be somewhere where I’d see only unknown faces, my phone would stop buzzing and also getting the 3g connectivity would be next to impossible.

And as we moved finally I felt better. The whole train was full of travelers like me, going to the Ziro Festival of Music. The excitement in every pair of eye was so evident. We all wanted to be there and set our souls free.

Sleep never seems easy inside a moving train. I woke up every time the train halted, be it at a station or in the middle of nowhere waiting for a clearance.  As I peeped outside, it was almost dawn. There was a slight drizzle too. We were in Harmoti, which meant we would be in Naharlagun in about forty five minutes or so.

The train reached Naharlagun right on dot. As we got down from the train it started raining quite heavily. The ones who had not made their Inner Line Permits were in a queue to get the needful done. I saw many artists disembarking and wrapping their guitars, drum sets in huge sheets of plastic. I badly wanted a cup of tea, but to my utter disappointment there wasn’t a single tea stall in and around this quaint little station.

We took a taxi to the town which is about fifteen minutes from the station.  Went straight to the Sumo Counter to book our seats. We did get the seats but the next Sumo to go to Ziro was a ten thirty, which meant we had close to two and half hours in hand. We put our backpack in the Sumo counter and walked around looking for a place to eat. The breakfast was the longest I had in my life! We had a lot of time at our disposal.

The Sumo started right on dot and soon we were ascending the hills. The road was curvy, rocky and the higher we went worse it became. The rains had made it slushier. The Subansiri River flowing below looked muddy with strong rapids. At a few places there were landslides too. It should have taken about three hours to reach Ziro, but the condition of the road, the slush and our driver getting down to help another Sumo driver whose car had a break down made the entire journey close to five and half hours.

Mr. Tam who was hosting us kept calling me to keep a track. At one point I felt I had completely lost it. I just wanted to get down from the Sumo and start walking.

But things did not take such a bad turn. We reached Ziro at three thirty in the afternoon and Mr. Tam came to receive us. As we hopped in his car, the first thing we asked him, “How far is your home from the Fest Site”?

“Oh! Don’t you people worry! It’s just a kilometer”!

That was perhaps the best thing we heard during this back breaking ride!

So there we were, in Hong Village. We followed Mr. Tam’s footsteps and finally reached his home. I was super thrilled to realize that I’d be staying the next three days in a stilt house made of bamboo and wood. It was small. But neat and clean. What could more one ask for? It was a typical Apatani home with a huge fire place in the middle of the living room, which they use it to warm water, smoke meat and keep the house warm.

Mr. Tam seemed more eager than us. He asked us to freshen up as quickly as we could so that he could drive us to the Fest Site. And like obedient children we exactly did as he told us.

There was a sense of euphoria in the site. The party was just about to begin and would get bigger and better. Once we were given our fest blue bands, we were inside. We looked around the stalls, checked the food and other stalls selling memorabilia.

The ZFM (Ziro Festival of Music) officially kicked off by seven and the first band Dayglocrazie was a bit disappointing. Not only me, I heard people standing close to me sipping their beers saying the kick off should have been with a peppy band, not with someone who was singing such mushy mushy songs. But after that Yesterdrive and later followed by Omak Komut Collective took matters in their able and responsible hands and they literally set the Fest on fire and the audience into frenzy.

And I knew this was the beginning of some serious tripping on good music.

The next two days that followed, we saw some of the finest and most talented people performing in front of us, from one in the afternoon till about ten at night.

MenWhoPause, Barmer Boys, Takar Nabam, Neel & The Lighbulbs, Tetseo Sisters, Run, It’s the Kid, North, Side Effect, Alisha Batth and my favourite Prateek Kuhad were  the most awesomest (only if the dictionary permits me to use such a word!).

Disappointment came when on the third day of the fest (which was my high point) we saw a huge white chart paper with this written and I quote, “Dualist Inquiry CANCELLED L P.S. He could not make it because he was injured.”

I was a sore miffed. Felt like a rejected lover. But then there were too many things that made up for that one disappointment. I was around with friends with whom I could be me and feel good and secure. Then there where the newer set of friends, we talked, laughed, sipped Apong and clicked selfies, exchanged numbers, added each other in Facebook, Instagram and WhatsApp too. We devoured on Apong (which is a local wine made from fermented rice and millet seeds). Out of all the Apongs the Apong made by the Adi tribe is the one to die for. Its sweet. It keeps you warm and gives you a happy high. The Adi Apong was served to us in slim bamboo hollows with bamboo leaves used as a cover.

The best thing about the ZFM was off course the music. But also it was about people I was with, the ones I connected after years that mattered a lot.

It’s a week now that I am back home. But I am still hung over. About everything that is Ziro. The green and golden paddy fields, the sunshine, the clear blue skies, the clouds, the rains, the fog, the slush, the long walks along the paddy fields and pine trees, the music, the happy and unknown faces, the familiar strangers. I came back home full of wonderful memories. I don’t know if I will go to Ziro again. Just feel that the excitement would not be as it was this time.

I told my host I can stay in Ziro for the rest of my life happily working in paddy fields, drinking Adi Apong, walking around not having a care about meeting deadlines and con calls!

Thank you Ziro Festival of Music, Ziro, Hong Village, Mr. Tam (my host) and most importantly Bobby Hano the organizer!

Its truly the “Journey of your Life”!

 

The Goa Chronicles

My first big holiday!

Goa – this tiny little state on the western coast of India is perhaps the most sought after holiday destination worldwide.

I have stopped counting now the number of times I have been there. Holidays for me always end up being in Goa. I have visited the place in different seasons and each season had a new story to tell.

My earliest recollection of Goa goes back to the time when I was a little girl. I must have been five or six years old. And it was a big holiday that my dad had planned. It was winters. School was closed and we had not taken a vacation for a long time. Yes, we did go to Shillong once a fortnight, but that I never considered it as a vacation because firstly it was my maternal grandparents home and secondly it was just 100 kms  from our home, roughly a three hours drive.

So where was I??? Yes! It was my first big holiday and the first time I’d travel by an airplane! I was thrilled.

We flew from Guwahati to Calcutta and we stayed there for three days. We checked in Carlton, a very old hotel, which my dad said, he used to stay there when he was of my age whenever he came to Cal. Carlton I remember fondly because this is the place where I first saw a television set! It had huge rooms and bathrooms. There was no room service and all meals were to be eaten in the dining hall only. Another interesting thing about the hotel was there was a fixed menu for all the guests. And you had to eat that only. Yes, the soups were amazing; I still faintly remember the taste. The serving dishes, dinner plates and soup bowls were very delicate porcelain with beautiful designs. The caramel custards served after dinner made me feel more at home because it tasted the same as the ones my mother or my grandmother made.

Opposite to the Calrton was the Oberoi Grand and on the left side of it was a movie hall, Roxy I think the name was. That our room was on the left hand side of the hotel too, it was quite noisy at times.

Cal seemed such a big city to me. I was amazed to see even the footpaths broader than some of our car passing lanes back home. Cal was a fun short stay, I rode on trams, visited one of my granny who lived in an old apartment called Lindsay Mansion in Lindsay Street. There were no lifts. We had to walk up six floors and the corridors were dark and cold. There were pigeons flying in these corridors. Similar to this mansion, we visited another family friend who stayed in a pent house in an apartment in Esplanade. The wooden stairs which led to this terrace penthouse was rickety and I remember crawling up like a cat instead of walking on my two legs.

And then our next leg of journey began. We almost missed our train to Bombay thanks to the nasty Cal traffic. Being stuck for about an hour in the traffic our driver rightly suggested that we cross the Hooghly River by ferry and reach Howrah station. And it was so chaotic. I had never been in a situation like that earlier. My mom was literally dragging me by my arms and at one point I threw up and next I remember  getting a tight slap from her!

After this epic marathon of sorts we finally were in the Gitanjali Express on our way to Bombay.

Bombay seemed bigger than Cal to me. The skyscrapers made my neck ache as I kept tilting my head to look up how tall these buildings were from the rear windshield as we drove in my uncle’s car from the Victoria Terminus Station to Pali Hills, Bandra.

Bombay was fun. I was with two of my favourite cousins. I realized they were not joking and meant business when they used to tell me, “Rishi Kapoor stays opposite to our home. You can see him if you look out of the kitchen window. Vinod Khanna stays on the 1^st floor of our building.”

And then the time came when we boarded a night bus to Goa. I never know at that time that this petite little place would end up being my favourite place in this entire world and I would keep coming back again and again.

Goa has a very different kind of a charm. The freshness in the air, the bright sun or the heavy rains, the saltiness in the atmosphere, the coconut trees dancing in the sea breeze, the smiling faces of people, old Portuguese houses, homemade sausages,  sea food, bougainvilleas blooming in bright pinks, oranges, whites and reds, the hills filled with greenery, rivers meeting the seas and the aromatic spices. You just tent to lose track of time and your daily routine once you are there. It makes one laid back so easily.

For a long time my Goa vacations were up in North only. Starting from my first vacation, when we stayed in Dona Paula at a lovely place called Prainnha Resorts by the Sea. The rooms overlooked the Arabian Sea. The resort had its own private beach and what more could one ask for.

And year after year… not literally but when I was doing my post graduation, I went there a couple of time with friends. We again were in North Goa, close to Calangute.

My first holiday with my husband was again Goa. It wasn’t a planned decision. We were in Bangalore at his sister’s place and on a weekend we took a train to Goa. We were again somewhere between Calangute and Baga. We stayed in a guest house run by an old Goanese couple, Mr. & Mrs. Ruberio. We rented a bike like all travelers do and went on exploring places. We sat by the beach post sunset, counting waves, sipping beer and eating.

And then the time came when I took my daughter to Goa for the first time. Much before going I looked up for places to stay. This time around I was being a well planned Goa traveler because I had a two year old going as well. I did a random search for Priannha Resorst on Google and boy! Yes! It was there! It had a website and reservations could be done online. So I sent them a mail and wrote that as a five year old and on my first visit to Goa, I had stayed there and now after all these years and with a daughter, I want her Goa sojourn to start from this very resort. They responded very warmly and so that was it… I felt like homecoming. I knew the roads, I know the resort and I knew the private beach. As we reached, I saw it had changed immensely. There were so many rooms now; there was a swimming pool too. It was beautiful. But I had such wonderful memories of my own visit to this very place earlier, it made the stay all the better.

My daughter loved it to bits. I remember telling her as we were walking out of the airport to the cab, “Look … we are home”! Yes Goa feels like home to me. I wonder if I was a fisherman or a Portuguese woman in my earlier life!

I do not do the usual touristy things when I am there. Just spend most of the time by the waters, or sipping beer and reading a good book or exploring newer places, unnamed secluded beaches and new food joints and shacks.

Another time I took a couple to Goa. They were first timers. It was the monsoons and no matter how many times I had been there, I was never there earlier during monsoons.

I thought we had had enough of Panjim, Dona Paula, Calangute, Baga, Candolim, Anjuna. So this time we moved further ahead and decided to stay in Morjim.

Morjim was almost closed when we went. Due to heavy rains, the tourist dwindles. We took up a service apartment and the beach was just a few steps away from our apartment. It was quiet, tranquil and the rains made it all the more beautiful. It was a total bliss. The tides were high most of the time. The sound of two giant waves crashing against each other on a high tide is like a roaring thunder. This is what I wanted. For me I have had too much of noise and crowd in Goa. I was immensely enjoying this state of nirvana. But the couple friend of ours and their super mischievous seven year old lad got a trifle bored after two days. They wanted trance music, psychedelic and neon lights, they wanted to be amongst swarm of strange people shaking their legs and booty and sipping port wine and cashew fenny. The husband wanted some weed too. So that was it. I ended my tranquil and nirvana like state of bliss in which I was cocooned and we packed our bags and came to Baga.

I wouldn’t say I do not like it. I like to see people on the beach, the hawkers, the life guards, the newlyweds. (See in India you can make out newlyweds, especially if they are from Northern India. The brides wear red and white bangles called “chura” for a year in both their hands up till her elbows). So you get to see bikini clad chura wearing brides, you see people wearing formal trousers, shirt and leather shoes and walking on beaches, there are women wearing stilettos to the beach… and then there are those who dons the “I Love Goa” tee with matching shorts, a straw hat and a waist pouch! And there are the overtly romantic pairs displaying a whole lot of PDA, there are the ones who guzzles beer like a fish out of water… the list is an endless one.

You can spend your whole time observing these and weaving stories in your mind about them. It is one of my favourite way to kill time when I am in Baga sitting in St. Anthony’s Karaoke Bar & Restaurant. My best place to hang out in Baga was the Fisherman’s Nook, the last shack on the Baga beach. I loved the guy who used to attend to me. Not only because he was friendly and smart but the amazing tattoos he had on both his forearms!

I discovered South Goa when Sanjive and Michelle had moved there last year. During summers I was in Delhi for a couple of days with a cousin of mine, when Sanjive suggested that I should visit them too. So for one more time I was in Goa again, yet this time around I would be in unfamiliar territories and places. My first stop in South Goa was Palolem. As I looked out to the sea, sitting in Silver Star, I wonder what I was doing all these years up in North Goa!

I never knew I had much more in store for me. As greedy as I am I went to Goa again in December and I was there right in time to celebrate Christmas and New Years.

As I went further and deeper in South Goa, I discovered Agonda beach. It’s quite, there are hardly any Indian tourist, especially the noisy ones, the water is clear, the restaurants excellent and the rooms cheap. I do not know how many beers I have drank there but yes, after I reached back home I realized all my clothes are tighter and I am one size bigger now.

Paradise beach which is about fifteen minutes drive from Agonda is a little treasure if you allow me to put it that way. This beach is nestled amongst hundreds of coconut trees and you have to walk down close to hundred steps to reach the spot. But its worth all the walking. It’s truly a paradise. The only hitch is when you have to walk up the stairs again… but I have considered it to be a cardio exercise for over eating so much!

I was in love with it until I discovered another beach, which stole my heart away and like a reckless and unfaithful lover my affection towards Paradise beach dwindled when I discovered Talpona.

Talpona is quieter, secluded, barely anybody around and the beach is the cleanest. I decided to spend two nights in Talpona. I took up a shack in Ordo Saunsar. The rooms are beautifully and tastefully made with cozy bed and the roofless bathrooms are one of a kind.

The beach hardly had any people. You could literally run around naked without worrying if someone saw you. The times I have spent on the Talpona beach I counted a max of ten people. That’s it. And then my mind went back to Baga and Calangute. I wondered how over crowded it must be there especially on a New Year’s Day and look where I am! Alone in my solitude and meeting a few likeminded people and in total peace with myself.  

After my stay in Talpona, even Agonda felt noisy. So you can imagine how quiet and tranquil Talpona is.

Talpona is similar to Morjim. Ridley turtles lay egg on this beach as they do in Morjim. So these beaches are preserved and are kept noise and pollution free.

Talpona also reminded me of Radhanagar beach in Havelock Island, an experience I think I should write it before Alzheimer’s hit me!

People tell me, “don’t you get bored of Goa” and I simply smile and shrug my shoulders and reply, “I do not know. That feeling has never come”!