Chitradurga in pictures!

I have always been a fan of Polaroid pictures - each one telling a story of its own.Here's a blog full of such polaroid pictures of a trip to Chitradurga only because I love looking at them!

Even though I have lived all my life in Bangalore, I had only visited the "touristy" districts of Karnataka  - Mysore, Coorg and  Mangalore. When we planned the trip to Chitradurga, I was skeptical on what I would find in a place that to me seemed like the "middle of nowhere". I was pleasantly surprised when I reached the Chitradurga fort.A light drizzle on that day made the weather pleasant and below are some pics of the fort and the temples on the fort.

Chitradurga Fort

Temples in the fort

I heard of an interesting story of a brave woman name Obavva who guarded the Chitadurga  fort tower while her husband and other soldiers went on a lunch break.The enemies attacked and had to come through the small crevice that you see in the picture.  With great presence of mind she immediately hid behind the crevice in the fort and hit at each soldier trying to squeeze through the crevice with Onake, the name given in Kannada to a pestle, a wooden rod used for pounding paddy. In this process, she bravely killed several enemy soldiers. By the time her husband appeared on the scene, she had already dragged several bodies of dead soldiers into the fort wall and was standing around the dead bodies with the blood stained Onake in her hand. This brave act saved the fort on that day from further attacks. This act also earned her the epithet Onake Obavva and the crevice in the fort where she showed her bravery is called Obawa Kindi. 

Me enacting the role of Obavva and my hubby playing the enemy soldier at Onake Obavvana Kindi

There were a couple of treks that were very different from what I have ever done. One such was atop the place called "Tuppada Kola" which in Kannada means a pond of ghee. In olden times, horses used to carry Ghee and this trek needs you to go on all fours for a distance by using the footholds engraved in the stone for horse hooves. Below is a pic of a bunch us climbing up on all fours in this stretch.

Tuppada Kola

View after the trek

Next morning we did another trek to "Gopalswamy Betta".It took a good two hours and below are some pics from there.

Arial View from Gopalswamy Betta

Rangoli!

For years, a trip to MG Road has been synonymous with the view of the bougainvillea lined avenue with ample park benches to sit and watch the people pass by. During the season of ' Bangalore Habba', street art spilled all over the boulevard. I remember walking on the 'Artists Walkway' checking out the artworks, getting caricatures done and soaking in the ambience. When they broke down the boulevard for metro construction I was angry. The promises of a new boulevard once the metro construction was complete seemed distant and empty.But boy how I was wrong!

Rangoli - the new name for the refurbished boulevard is really splendid.
It houses multiple art galleries, one of them having exhibits from pictures of old bangalore, interactive fountain ,children's play area, a wall dedicated to the history of Bangalore and so many saplings and flowers. The ramp on top stills houses the bougainvilla avenue similar to yester years.The thing that I liked the most on this new walkway was the life- size 'Snakes and ladders ' game in the children's area. A huge dice was hurled and adults and children alike were engrossed on this board.

I also hear that the exhibitions and stalls keep changing every month to keep it fresh and intersting. A stroll down this lane is a must do if you are in Bangalore.

'Snakes and Ladders'

Wall adorned with ants at one of the art galleries

Just let me be!

"Just let me be" is a philosophy that screams for an existence - without being noticed or judged or applauded or criticized, to just be and not be bothered by worries of tasks or chores that don't interest you.

If being a control freak is largely considered a negative trait then shouldn't being the one who readily gives up the control reins of chores that doesn't interest you be considered a positive trait? Isn't it a sign of maturity to say " I really don't care what the decision on this matter is.. I am ok either ways..people who seem to care about a side please take a call and just let me be "? I don't know about you people but I truly believe that it is a skill to distance yourself from taking sides or even being involved in matters that are just too trivial for you. What is a good, healthy normal trait in my opinion is apparently considered to be a negative trait. I tend to get perceived of as lazy , unwilling to accept responsibility, slacker and also as a stubborn person showing no inclination to adapt. Before you jump to conclusions about me, let me clarify that this philosophy applies only to some things in life and not to all. I do genuinely care about some chores and take full charge of them. The question really is -can people accept it when I honestly admit that I don't care enough about a particular task to make any decisions and would willingly give the reins of control to whoever is interested?

With the typical stereotyping of roles in society I find it extremely hard to follow my philosophy.If not wanting to be involved itself is such a liberating thought , imagine if society in general warms up to this idea - 'just let me be' may be the best thing that ever happened to you!

Sand, Sun and the Cowherd

The story begins with a lazy day in Calungute, Goa on a hot summer afternoon. The beach was a kilometer away from the hotel, so we decided to walk it up. We spent the day in the beach - playing in the water, resting under the shade of an umbrella in a beach chair, eating and drinking in a 'Shack' - one of the many makeshift restaurants at the beach.

In the night, we decided to head out to Baga beach and eat either at Mambo's or Tito's located in the famous Tito's lane near Baga beach. We walked by the sea where the sand is the softest from Calungute to Baga by the moonlight. It was calm and a nice breeze was blowing. We didn't realize the distance we had covered. We ate again at a shack on Baga as most other restaurants were shut as it was Good Friday.

When it was time to head back, my hubby insisted on us walking back to our hotel. So the troop trudged along reluctantly behind our cowherd aka my hubby - who lead us ( or tried to rather ) with a map in hand and an imaginary stick to herd the reluctant cattle behind him. After walking many kilometers when there were murmurs and complaints asking for breaks or calling for a taxi- the Cowherd stops and shows us on the map how we are close to a Tibetian market which itself isn't too far from our hotel. We trudged along reluctantly- our food all digested and pulling the weight of our aching bodies. After another 30 mins of this we see another Tibetian market and realize the area is full of them and only after a few more so called ' hundreds of meters' did we reach a place that was even listed on the map.Finally after walking for about two hours or so we finally arrived at our hotel.

Herding cattle, they say, is an art and a science that requires patience, knowledge of flight-zone, and a bit of bovine psychology. On this trip, I was convinced that my hubby would make an awesome Cowherd as he not only managed to get a reluctant group to walk , but also made us walk for hours together.

The 'Souq' experience

I entered an arena and saw rows and rows of lit up stalls. The crowd was diverse with people from different nationalities. In the corner was a man making bubbles enclosing objects and stacking them up to make a bubble pyramid. In the center was a huge mango tree with its branches bearing green mangoes. Below the tree was a make shift pedestal lit up with blue stars and atop it was a stage with a band playing music. The audience were all around- smoking, drinking, eating, shopping and making merry.

As I walked around, I saw stalls selling pottery, jewellery, clothes from beach wear to gowns worthy of the 'Khaleesi' aka Danerys Targeryan of Game of Thrones fame. There was a nip in the air and as I climbed the hill I could see below all the shops lit up with their knick knacks. There was a mix of smells in the air from the various food stalls in the market. The menus ranged from meatballs in Bulgaria, to German bakeries, to Thai salads, to waffles and crepes to dosa and pav Bhaji. There were make shift shops dealing with forex in the open and so were shops selling drinks from draught beer to elegant cocktails. The place was clean with a set of people constantly picking up the trash and cleaning the tables near food stalls.

I sat in the open arena under the stars on that saturday night in march listening to music, watching a bunch of youngsters entering a stall a few feet from the stage - picking up sign boards, bright colored toupees and funky accessories all in a minute and making a memory with a souvenir pic telling they were having fun at the ' Saturday Night Market' in Arpora, Goa.

Eulogy for my lemon tree!

I bought a lemon plant a couple of months ago and pictured it growing big in my balcony bearing a number of yellow lemons. It was a tiny plant in a big pot – giving it room to bloom into a beautiful shrub.I imagined cooking in my kitchen, humming a tune , with the smell of fresh lemons and the sight of a blooming tree to soothe my nerves and get me into the relaxed and cooking frame of mind.

There were problems from the very beginning – a branch which carried tiny green lemons partially snapped in the car due to sudden braking. We came home – tied twine around the broken stem, showering it with love and care and we wished to nurse it back. But it was not to be. The branch slowly turned brown and died and we had to sever it to keep the rest of the plant healthy. We kept changing the place where we kept this pot – some places were too sunny, some were too windy and some places had too much shade. Our tiny plant also survived an attack by a pigeon in the balcony. We nursed it, we watered it and hoped it would survive. Voila! It did – new leaves began to sprout and I was delighted. We began to slowly take the plant for granted and only watered it once a day. Weekends we weren’t at home, so watered it in excess on Friday and hoped it will survive till Monday.

Slowly there were long weekends/ travels abroad and we were missing from the house for weeks on end. For the first such trip, we placed the pot outside the front door and requested the neighbour to water it. Then the travel got more frequent and so did the neglect. When I last saw it, it was withering, but at least it was still alive. This week while I am still away and my hubby was unwell and not in our place – it must have withered completely and died.

I miss it , but I can still see the yellow lemon tree although my plant never even grew more than an inch before our neglect killed it. I wish I had taken more care and I do hope someday I can nurture and grow a tree – like the one I see in my head!

I wonder how
I wonder why
Yesterday you told me 'bout the blue blue sky
And all that I can see is just a yellow lemon-tree
I'm turning my head up and down
I'm turning turning turning turning turning around
And all that I can see is just another lemon-tree!

I miss you, my dear sapling!

P.S : After writing this big eulogy, I finally went home and saw my resilient sapling still alive in-spite of our negligence. Sorry my dear hubby for accusing you to be the killer of my lemon tree!

Theatrical Bookshop

Bookstores are always a favourite place for me to visit. Shelves filled with books and small couches for you to sit down and peruse the books you wanna buy, kiosks where you try and find titles that interest you - all of it holds a charm for me.

Just imagine how happy I was to hear that one of world's most beautiful bookstores in the world was just a few blocks away from where I was staying in Recoleta, Buenos Aires. I couldn't resist a visit to El Ateneo Grand Splendid Bookstore.It was once a theatre which staged tango performances by some famous artists.This book lover’s palace located in the old Grand Splendid Theater retains all the decadence of an Italian opera house.

The theater boxes are intact and are fitted with comfy chairs that invite visitors to lounge perusing book selections on a rainy afternoon.The Splendid’s stage remains encased by thick burgundy curtains, and now serves as the bookstore’s pleasant cafe. A live pianist performs on stage in the afternoons and, thanks to the great acoustics, can be heard throughout the store.

 Balconies where one can sit and read

This building is over a 100 years old and look how grand it still is. I couldn't help but wish we had something like this in India and was wondering what would it take to build such a beautiful bookstore back home.