Sumthing Of Everything…

 MY PASSPORT TO NEW EUROPE 

Michael Jackson is undoubtedly the most popular figure. But there is another popular Michael in the arena of travelers world – Michael Palin (so is Michael Jordan with basketball) . The actor-turned-presenter has a long bibliography as a film actor, TV actor, author etc. but I have watched his shows to agree him as my favorite presenter and author. He has taken over as president of Royal Geographical Society this year (as said in his newsletter). It means his fans have to wait for some time to see him back doing presentations – realistic, factual and underplayed.

So here is Michael, smiling on the cover of the new book that was released nearly 2 years ago but joined my collection very recently (presented by my wife on our anniversary occasion). Its on New Europe – focuses on traditional, cultural, economic and political facets of 20 countries, post the iron curtain and cold war, which Michael has traveled.

Know more at http://www.palinstravels.co.uk/

Reflections

Experience of visiting wonderful places is not always wonderful. It proved to be so with Mysore palace more than once, particularly on Sundays and holidays when the palace is illuminated.

Instead of the usual horse-cart ride, we drove around the palace this time and parked on the east side gate. It is a popular haunt among locals though there is no entrance from here (in contrast with the south side gate from where the tourists are let in). It was like a drive-in eatery with a one-hour visually stunning view at free of cost. On the other side are the Chamundi Hills with a series of lights marking the trail of path to the top.

When the clock ticked seven, the lights were turned on in one go filling the place with glow. The entire ambiance of the vicinity was reborn. Children getting pampered by their parents, couples posing for what could be their next drawing room photo, girls dressed-up in their Sunday best, chat stalls, cool breeze and 27000 lights together manifesting into a palace. As if it wants to be a part of it all, my car was beaming with reflections from where my camera took  over.

Above pictures are reflections on the top and windows of the car

SEE/OFF

A lady in burkha was busy arranging an array of bags below the seats. Two sniffer dogs with their tongues wagging out have leaped into compartments following a security personnel who was walking them along the length of the train. LED boards were showing the coach numbers. Gold Winner oil ad was playing on TVs.

Outside the window I started walking along, as the train had started to pull out from the platform and gradually marched fast to match its speed. As the distance was growing proportional to the acceleration, watching me and waving from inside were my parents. I waved back  one last time before something had come in my line of vision and slowed down to walking, towards the foot-over bridge.

At that moment I had struck me - why all those famous quotes on journeys are just about the travel and destinations or places and people - at least those quotes that come often during breaks in Travel & Living. Its also who is seeing off that matter, for sure - given that for so many millions of people that travel every hour all over the world, most of them would have been seen off by their friends or relatives or partners. They must also count to millions. For some, given the situation, being seen off (or being received) could be as important as the journey and its whole purpose. It then flashed me the teary face of my mother who came of see me off on a tough day when I had left for my engineering to Bangalore, which was then a faraway land to an average teenager from a town in the times when technology has not invaded geography. Also my unwilling seeing off my father, who had gone on his job to report in a new place, knowing the fearful nights till his return attributed to unsafe days of burglaries in our locality. And the see off on the day which had left a little time, when my father had left on an official trip, for me to explain why I had got ‘B’ grade for the first time. He had signed the progress report without saying a thing which I felt I did not deserve and that had left me waiting till he was back. And the glimpse at my family in the airport that remained in my mind for weeks, when I had left for abroad. It all mattered.

The train was far and the light behind guard’s compartment gradually faded away into the dark. Platform seemed claiming back its solitude. The boy at the food stall was clearing the emptied coffee cups into the bin. Porters have settled down on a bench and were into an animated discussion. I had reached the stairs of foot-over bridge. Side by TV was playing the ad of Gold Winner oil…

Back to school (off the thought)

As a friend has stated, there is nothing like nostalgia. It had hit on me hard ever when I had visited my school in my native place Eluru, from where I passed out my SSC. 

View of playground and hostel. We were not allowed to play in this part of the ground. The extend of ground sprawled by the tree  is infamous - for eating lunch below it almost meant being a victim of crow s**t. I cannot recall the exact positon of that overflowing waste-bin but there used to be one in my times too.

Quarterly exams Time Table. Order of subjects did not change - languages, followed by Maths, Science and Social. I used to wait for the exams, not that they bring along holidays, but to see the marks I score. Whereas my knees used to go weak at the very thought of exams and results in engineering.  

Now, that was my classroom in 8th std. I was always a front bencher (sparing in movie halls) and was the favorite of some teachers if not all. I won’t say I don’t remember getting punished.  I remember few incidents because I got punished just those few times. 

Corridor on ground floor, as seen from sports room end. Place of notice boards and also the shelter to have lunch when it rains.  This wing has English medium classrooms and the other wing has Telugu medium, shown discretely as EM and TM respectively to on classroom doors, time-tables, blackboards etc. In between the wings is principal’s office. We EM students would carry some subtle esteem that would shallow down during the exams (TM’s English question paper would be very easy compared to ours but our Telugu syllabus and exams papers are same as theirs).

Above is St.Xavier’s elementary school built when I was in 9th std. My sisters and brother have studied there. During intervals, they would buy things from hawkers sitting outside the closed gate.  Exchange would happen from openings below the gate and half orange topped with mix of salt and chilli powder was the popular buy. This was a well kept secret for a long time.  

Back at home, they used to imitate their teachers and sing the parodies and dance to the songs performed at the school functions. Not to mention the teacher game where both the sisters would be teachers and brother duals as student and peon.  

Main entrance to the school usually seen bustling with hawkers and rickshaws waiting for the children to drop or to pick. It matched very much with the last snapshot I had in my memory.

Place to assemble for daily prayer and ocassional announcements. A different prayer on each day of the week, followed by a thought for the day and news headlines.  Then they would play music (as in parades) with two students playing drums and we would march till we reach the stairs on the way to the classroom.