Cabbage is not one of my favorite vegetables. And when I read about the stale cabbage-peppermint smell that floats out every time the Buick 8 snaps open its trunk I wrinkled my nose and let out an "eeeeewwwww"...
Please don't think I have gone nuts. I know what I am talking about and it's about Stephen King's "From a Buick 8". I am reading Stephen King after a long time - I had read his "Thinner" almost 2 years back. But that's because I very well remember the feeling of being left shaken and stirred after watching his "Carrie" and "The Tommyknockers". "Thinner" didn't exactly help the matters. So now the Buick.
For those of you who haven't read this book, here's the story in a nutshell. A Buick Roadmaster drives up to a gas station somewhere in rural Pennsylvania. Its driver goes missing soon after the attendant starts filling the gas. The PSP (Pennsylvania State Patrol), on investigation of the vehicle - which doesn't have any number plates either at the front or at the back - find that there are a few more things that are weird and alien about the car. The car gets relegated to shed B and the troopers get back to their business. But the car has other plans - like throwing out intense lights (what the troopers come to call as 'Lightquakes'), dropping the shed temperature drastically, popping out strange other-worldly creatures and making a trooper or two disappear. And in the midst of all this, Trooper Curt Wilcox and Sarge Tony try their level best to get to the bottom of this mystery.
A thoroughly enjoyable read - except for the rambling philosophical passages that keep coming at regular intervals! Somehow I feel that they diminish the "Horror Quotient" of the book. And all the while I kept on saying to myself "why the hell don't these troopers destroy the car?" I got the answer in the end and I was like "damn, it makes sense". :-)
The epilogue contains author's note about how he thought of this story and makes for a fascinating reading. How I wish I could go and check out that Jenny station that King saw on his road trip :-) One questions remains unanswered though - why the combination of cabbage-peppermint for the smell? Was it perhaps the result of some failed kitchen experiment? ;-)
Oh, I did google for Buick Roadmaster to check out what it looks like. I love cars. But I think after reading this book I will not be caught dead in the vicinity of any car - with or without its trunk open - after dark. And the pun is intended:-)
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Udhagamandalam - Last Day
On the last morning in Ooty I kept the promise that I had made myself on the 1st day - I went to Woody's for breakfast. A sumptuous Onion Uttapam and Cardamom tea again! I lingered in the market place buying more homemade chocolates. It felt as if I didn't want to leave. L I have only one regret, two actually - one, because of the bad weather I couldn't visit Dodabetta peak. I am told the sunrise and sunset both are awesome there. And two, I couldn't visit the wax museum - though I passed it on my way out of the city on the last morning. The road that you take out of the city is different from the one you take when you come in - I don't know why though.
My last impressions of Ooty are made up of three things I noticed on this road. First was when our car stopped and was asked to wait at the roadside along with some other cars - probably to give "right of passage" to some VIP car. Naturally, I looked around. We had stopped in front of a small building the top floor of which was occupied by what looked like a typing institute - one that accepts typing jobs. As I watched a girl hurried in, got a key out of her purse and struggled with the front door lock. Then she went inside and opened the windows. I saw another man enter close on her heels. Then an office boy went in. The girl came out again and crossed the road hurrying. I craned my neck to see what she was doing - she accepted a sheaf of blank papers from a man who had arrived on a bicycle. Just as she hurried back upstairs with what I thought was the day's supply of the stationery, our car moved again. You might wonder - ok, so what's the point? Funnily (and you might want to club me on head for this!) I don't have any point to make. It’s just the thought that that girl must be doing the same thing every day - even today when I sat down to write this - but I, one of the so many tourists on their way out of the city that day, had stumbled onto this slice of her life. And again the age old question - was it pre-ordained or it just happened?
Then the graves - I caught sight of them as the car kept twisting and turning its way back towards Coimbatore. They were on a slope - surrounded by trees and green grass. Not rows and rows of them like I have seen in a cemetery in New Jersey and in war memorial cemetery in Pune - but a couple of them scattered along the slope. I don't know why but the sight of graves has always unnerved me. I wonder if it's because it reminds me of death or because I have seen maybe too many horror movies. These graves also unnerved me but I also wondered about them. I have often heard the expression "feeling like someone has walked over your grave" and puzzled over its meaning. As I looked at these graves this expression kept popping in my mind and I wondered what it must be like to lie in eternity on a green slope.
But these thoughts were soon blown away - because of the waterfalls. They kept crossing my path on the left and though none of them was big they commanded attention the way a playful child does. Some of them announced their presence in advance - I heard them before I saw them. But some were sly - they didn't reveal themselves till the car turned the corner and then they just blew my breath away. Crystal clear water - its coolness seeping through to me through the open car windows. Monsoon wasn't here yet so at some places I could see the path created by bigger waterfalls that had vanished now leaving just boulders and loose soil in their wake. I tried to imagine what they must look like in monsoon as each turn took me farther from Ooty and closer to Coimbatore.
I realized that the journey was over when the car dropped me at the airport. Jet Airways didn't make me wait for long and when the flight took off I only had Nilgiris on my mind.
My last impressions of Ooty are made up of three things I noticed on this road. First was when our car stopped and was asked to wait at the roadside along with some other cars - probably to give "right of passage" to some VIP car. Naturally, I looked around. We had stopped in front of a small building the top floor of which was occupied by what looked like a typing institute - one that accepts typing jobs. As I watched a girl hurried in, got a key out of her purse and struggled with the front door lock. Then she went inside and opened the windows. I saw another man enter close on her heels. Then an office boy went in. The girl came out again and crossed the road hurrying. I craned my neck to see what she was doing - she accepted a sheaf of blank papers from a man who had arrived on a bicycle. Just as she hurried back upstairs with what I thought was the day's supply of the stationery, our car moved again. You might wonder - ok, so what's the point? Funnily (and you might want to club me on head for this!) I don't have any point to make. It’s just the thought that that girl must be doing the same thing every day - even today when I sat down to write this - but I, one of the so many tourists on their way out of the city that day, had stumbled onto this slice of her life. And again the age old question - was it pre-ordained or it just happened?
Then the graves - I caught sight of them as the car kept twisting and turning its way back towards Coimbatore. They were on a slope - surrounded by trees and green grass. Not rows and rows of them like I have seen in a cemetery in New Jersey and in war memorial cemetery in Pune - but a couple of them scattered along the slope. I don't know why but the sight of graves has always unnerved me. I wonder if it's because it reminds me of death or because I have seen maybe too many horror movies. These graves also unnerved me but I also wondered about them. I have often heard the expression "feeling like someone has walked over your grave" and puzzled over its meaning. As I looked at these graves this expression kept popping in my mind and I wondered what it must be like to lie in eternity on a green slope.
But these thoughts were soon blown away - because of the waterfalls. They kept crossing my path on the left and though none of them was big they commanded attention the way a playful child does. Some of them announced their presence in advance - I heard them before I saw them. But some were sly - they didn't reveal themselves till the car turned the corner and then they just blew my breath away. Crystal clear water - its coolness seeping through to me through the open car windows. Monsoon wasn't here yet so at some places I could see the path created by bigger waterfalls that had vanished now leaving just boulders and loose soil in their wake. I tried to imagine what they must look like in monsoon as each turn took me farther from Ooty and closer to Coimbatore.
I realized that the journey was over when the car dropped me at the airport. Jet Airways didn't make me wait for long and when the flight took off I only had Nilgiris on my mind.
Udhagamandalam - Day 3
A clear view of the valley and clear skies were what greeted me as I woke up on my 3rd morning in Udhagamandalam. I almost jumped with joy. Today was the day for the train ride to Coonoor!
Buoyed by the excellent weather, I had a hearty breakfast before managing a walk in the area surrounding the resort. Then the car drove me up to Udhagamandalam station. I was hoping that the driver would come up to the ticket counter to help me procure the tickets but no such luck. With some trepidation I approached the counter and uttered the single word that I hoped would be suffice to get me the ticket to my destination - "Coonoor". Voila! The ticket was in my hands. I walked up to the platform. I had asked the concierge the previous evening if any advanced booking was needed. He had assured me that none was necessary and had also advised me to travel by 2nd class as it had seats for 2 facing each other for comfortable seating. One of my friends who had been to Ooty before had advised me to sit on the right side (if you sit facing the direction the train takes while leaving Ooty) as it afforded the best view of the valley.
But when I reached the platform I was disappointed on both counts. Compartments for both the classes were almost occupied with some seats left in between. There was no arrangement as described by the concierge in 2nd class. And all the seats on right hand side were taken. I managed to get into a compartment and snag a window seat. The car driver came by to check that I was seated and assured me that he would be around at Coonoor station to pick me up for the sightseeing trip there.
I was wondering about 2 things - one, whether the compartment door closes and two, whether the train will start on time. Both questions were answered at the same time as precisely a minute before the scheduled departure time a man banged the door shut and no sooner than he did this the train began to move. J What a pleasant surprise! The rest of the compartment was taken up by a couple of college kids. And when the train started they applauded so enthusiastically that the old foreigner couple that had been shoved into the compartment at the last minute broke into a grin. Coonoor, here I come :-)
There were precisely 3 stations in between - Lovedale, a tongue-twister named Aravankadu (which according to the board put up there was built in 1908 thus completing a century this year) and Wellington. A variety of scenery floated by - swathes of trees (Nilgiris?), villages with tiny cottages, verdant patches of grass. At one point I saw a couple of vehicles waiting patiently at the crossing for the train to pass while the hills laden with clouds stood guard at the background. Do these people take this route daily? I was as green with envy as the surrounding landscape! Further ahead, a small waterfall gurgled in the distance and a lone woman sat washing clothes. Washing clothes! At the waterfall! Before I could check whether I imagined the sight the train had moved ahead. If I mistake not, the train did pass through 3-4 tunnels - our compartment erupting into loud shouts every time it entered one. I distinctly remember that after we left Aravankadu station, the scene outside my window was bathed into a carpet of flowers - of different hues and colors, so many of them that I almost forgot to take photos. I was glad I wasn't sitting on the right side because the valley views would have become monotonous after a while. I wished I could get down and walk. I am sure it must have been one of the trekking routes that Ooty is so famous for. I didn't want this journey to end.
But end it did as the train pulled up at Coonoor station. My first view of the place was a disappointing one - a cluster of dilapidated houses jarred on the eyes that had just seen nature at its best. What is there to see in this place? Hell, I am going to waste a complete day. I would have been better off exploring the markets at Ooty. It was with these thoughts that I got down from the train. There was a flurry of activity as all the foreigners who had got down were hastily taking snaps before the train departed. I had almost forgotten about this - so disappointed I was. I hoped and prayed that I will find the driver quickly. I didn't have to hunt for long and as soon as I was seated I asked him if there was any place where I could have lunch. He nodded and started the car. Just 10 minutes of drive and the landscape changed drastically. We were moving along a curving road - the sky lightly overcast with just a hint of showers in the air. We had just 3 sites to cover so there was no tearing rush.
I will always remember the place where I had lunch at Coonoor. It was called "The great wall Chinese Cuisine". And it was next to some place selling antique stuff. The waiter politely said “Not Available” to the first two dishes that I ordered. That depressed me further. But I had to eat something so I asked him if he had veg chowmein. He said yes and departed with my order. I now began to worry about what was in store for me. Over the years I have eaten many varieties of this dish - oily, with half cooked noodles, with raw vegetables. But I wasn't disappointed by this little eatery, The chowmein was creamy and delicious - just what I wanted. And this I think set the mood for the rest of the trip.
I am a little confused as to which place we visited first - whether it was Lamb's Rock or Dolphin's Nose. Both these places offered cool valley views. I remember at one of these, I saw a toy stuffed lion and tiger - both faded - on display along with some photos of kids who had posed with them. I was amazed at the ways people think of to make money! But I was kind of sad for those stuffed toys - they should have been the property of some happy child rather than being left on a rocky patch of land to be baked in the sun. :-(
I also remember that at one point our car was stopped at what looked like a traffic jam. I was a bit confused as the driver backed the car in a small empty place. What was I supposed to do? Then it dawned on me that the valley could be seen from the top of the house nearby, they were throwing in masala tea for free in addition to the valley view and inviting tourists to check out the oils and tea that they were selling. I managed to climb the shaky-looking staircase, wondered what was so different about this view, declined the offer for masala tea that began with the annoying "but, madam it's free" and with difficulty managed to get myself out of the shop selling tea and oils - definitely put off by the whole experience. Of course the locals have the right to make their livelihood from the tourists but the tourists shouldn't feel forced.
Another thing that I will remember very clearly is a spot near some tea plantations that the car stopped at. You could see the hills in the distance and the plantations stretched for miles. I could see some ladies getting photographed - dressed up like the women who pick up tea leaves. It was so calm and quiet that I wished I could somehow steal and save a slice of this for later - to be used when the pace of life became so hectic, so maddening that I hardly got time to breathe. I strolled over to the area where they were selling cardamom tea. You could also order tea to drink and I did the same. But as soon as I ordered I happened to have a dekko at their kitchen. If any of my friends who know about my cleanliness fetish (that's the word they use) are reading this, I am sure they will laugh their guts out imagining the expression of horror that crossed my face. But it would have been impolite to cancel the order so I decided to go through with the ordeal. I was in for a surprise again! The tea was delicious. What is it about the tea that they make here? I wondered. Is it the milk that they use? The tea leaves? A different method of making it? Or was it simply the altitude that did the trick? ;-)
Our last stop for the day, and my last stop in Ooty sightseeing was Sim's park. This park was established in 1874 and contains plants of different varieties - many of them exotic - that have been brought over from far-flung countries. That it was very green, very calm inside was perhaps expected. But the sheer size of the park (area of 12.14 Hq - if one website is to be believed) and the cacophony of different birds calling out to each other surprised me. It was amazing! You could just sit on a bench, close your eyes and listen to them chatter in that strange tongue of theirs. If that doesn't melt away layers of stress, strain and tension that city-dwelling cakes you with, I will eat my hat! I walked over to the tiny lake with a tiny boat in it and stood over the tiny bridge gazing at the water.
This was time for retrospection - if not on life, at least on this trip. Did I come looking for something special to Ooty - nothing more than good time. And yes, maybe to satisfy the urge that I have always felt since childhood. The sight of mountains does something to me - I keep seeing lush green valley surrounded by mountains when I am day-dreaming. Dark deep forests which are fast disappearing beckon me. And this has always puzzled me for I, a product of modern civilization, haven't had much to do with nature except for the plants that grow in the balcony. Then why am I being drawn again and again to the babbling waterfalls, carpets of wild flowers, clouds about to descend on the far horizon, waves of mist shrouding the valley? Is it that a tiny part of some gene still remembers a life lived centuries ago? Am I still tied to some such existence by an invisible yet strong bond? Was it some past life still tugging at the heartstrings?
Perhaps I will never find the answers, perhaps I am not meant to find them. I know one thing though - this beautiful place with a weird tongue-twisting name of Udhagamandalam has given me what I came seeking - consciously or otherwise - and more. The weather was bad but it did present me with the awesome sight of the valley playing peek-a-boo through the misty curtains. I enjoyed walking through the rains - which I doubt I would have dared to do in the city - and didn't catch cold. I pigged out on food (and homemade chocolates) without any regard to the calories I was piling on. I walked through the town looking at structures that seemed straight out of the long-gone British era. I enjoyed snuggling under the comforters and yet shivering in cold. I welcomed the warmth of the portable heater. I savored the haunting melodies that the musician in the resort lobby played as the evenings turned to nights outside. I became a child again as I chugged along with the mountain train towards Coonoor. I looked at the tiny swing in the backyard garden of the house in front of my room when I got up in the morning, tried to peer at it when I tucked in for the night and imagined what the valley must look like from there. Oh yes, Ooty had left me richer than before, much richer than I had ever hoped for.
Buoyed by the excellent weather, I had a hearty breakfast before managing a walk in the area surrounding the resort. Then the car drove me up to Udhagamandalam station. I was hoping that the driver would come up to the ticket counter to help me procure the tickets but no such luck. With some trepidation I approached the counter and uttered the single word that I hoped would be suffice to get me the ticket to my destination - "Coonoor". Voila! The ticket was in my hands. I walked up to the platform. I had asked the concierge the previous evening if any advanced booking was needed. He had assured me that none was necessary and had also advised me to travel by 2nd class as it had seats for 2 facing each other for comfortable seating. One of my friends who had been to Ooty before had advised me to sit on the right side (if you sit facing the direction the train takes while leaving Ooty) as it afforded the best view of the valley.
But when I reached the platform I was disappointed on both counts. Compartments for both the classes were almost occupied with some seats left in between. There was no arrangement as described by the concierge in 2nd class. And all the seats on right hand side were taken. I managed to get into a compartment and snag a window seat. The car driver came by to check that I was seated and assured me that he would be around at Coonoor station to pick me up for the sightseeing trip there.
I was wondering about 2 things - one, whether the compartment door closes and two, whether the train will start on time. Both questions were answered at the same time as precisely a minute before the scheduled departure time a man banged the door shut and no sooner than he did this the train began to move. J What a pleasant surprise! The rest of the compartment was taken up by a couple of college kids. And when the train started they applauded so enthusiastically that the old foreigner couple that had been shoved into the compartment at the last minute broke into a grin. Coonoor, here I come :-)
There were precisely 3 stations in between - Lovedale, a tongue-twister named Aravankadu (which according to the board put up there was built in 1908 thus completing a century this year) and Wellington. A variety of scenery floated by - swathes of trees (Nilgiris?), villages with tiny cottages, verdant patches of grass. At one point I saw a couple of vehicles waiting patiently at the crossing for the train to pass while the hills laden with clouds stood guard at the background. Do these people take this route daily? I was as green with envy as the surrounding landscape! Further ahead, a small waterfall gurgled in the distance and a lone woman sat washing clothes. Washing clothes! At the waterfall! Before I could check whether I imagined the sight the train had moved ahead. If I mistake not, the train did pass through 3-4 tunnels - our compartment erupting into loud shouts every time it entered one. I distinctly remember that after we left Aravankadu station, the scene outside my window was bathed into a carpet of flowers - of different hues and colors, so many of them that I almost forgot to take photos. I was glad I wasn't sitting on the right side because the valley views would have become monotonous after a while. I wished I could get down and walk. I am sure it must have been one of the trekking routes that Ooty is so famous for. I didn't want this journey to end.
But end it did as the train pulled up at Coonoor station. My first view of the place was a disappointing one - a cluster of dilapidated houses jarred on the eyes that had just seen nature at its best. What is there to see in this place? Hell, I am going to waste a complete day. I would have been better off exploring the markets at Ooty. It was with these thoughts that I got down from the train. There was a flurry of activity as all the foreigners who had got down were hastily taking snaps before the train departed. I had almost forgotten about this - so disappointed I was. I hoped and prayed that I will find the driver quickly. I didn't have to hunt for long and as soon as I was seated I asked him if there was any place where I could have lunch. He nodded and started the car. Just 10 minutes of drive and the landscape changed drastically. We were moving along a curving road - the sky lightly overcast with just a hint of showers in the air. We had just 3 sites to cover so there was no tearing rush.
I will always remember the place where I had lunch at Coonoor. It was called "The great wall Chinese Cuisine". And it was next to some place selling antique stuff. The waiter politely said “Not Available” to the first two dishes that I ordered. That depressed me further. But I had to eat something so I asked him if he had veg chowmein. He said yes and departed with my order. I now began to worry about what was in store for me. Over the years I have eaten many varieties of this dish - oily, with half cooked noodles, with raw vegetables. But I wasn't disappointed by this little eatery, The chowmein was creamy and delicious - just what I wanted. And this I think set the mood for the rest of the trip.
I am a little confused as to which place we visited first - whether it was Lamb's Rock or Dolphin's Nose. Both these places offered cool valley views. I remember at one of these, I saw a toy stuffed lion and tiger - both faded - on display along with some photos of kids who had posed with them. I was amazed at the ways people think of to make money! But I was kind of sad for those stuffed toys - they should have been the property of some happy child rather than being left on a rocky patch of land to be baked in the sun. :-(
I also remember that at one point our car was stopped at what looked like a traffic jam. I was a bit confused as the driver backed the car in a small empty place. What was I supposed to do? Then it dawned on me that the valley could be seen from the top of the house nearby, they were throwing in masala tea for free in addition to the valley view and inviting tourists to check out the oils and tea that they were selling. I managed to climb the shaky-looking staircase, wondered what was so different about this view, declined the offer for masala tea that began with the annoying "but, madam it's free" and with difficulty managed to get myself out of the shop selling tea and oils - definitely put off by the whole experience. Of course the locals have the right to make their livelihood from the tourists but the tourists shouldn't feel forced.
Another thing that I will remember very clearly is a spot near some tea plantations that the car stopped at. You could see the hills in the distance and the plantations stretched for miles. I could see some ladies getting photographed - dressed up like the women who pick up tea leaves. It was so calm and quiet that I wished I could somehow steal and save a slice of this for later - to be used when the pace of life became so hectic, so maddening that I hardly got time to breathe. I strolled over to the area where they were selling cardamom tea. You could also order tea to drink and I did the same. But as soon as I ordered I happened to have a dekko at their kitchen. If any of my friends who know about my cleanliness fetish (that's the word they use) are reading this, I am sure they will laugh their guts out imagining the expression of horror that crossed my face. But it would have been impolite to cancel the order so I decided to go through with the ordeal. I was in for a surprise again! The tea was delicious. What is it about the tea that they make here? I wondered. Is it the milk that they use? The tea leaves? A different method of making it? Or was it simply the altitude that did the trick? ;-)
Our last stop for the day, and my last stop in Ooty sightseeing was Sim's park. This park was established in 1874 and contains plants of different varieties - many of them exotic - that have been brought over from far-flung countries. That it was very green, very calm inside was perhaps expected. But the sheer size of the park (area of 12.14 Hq - if one website is to be believed) and the cacophony of different birds calling out to each other surprised me. It was amazing! You could just sit on a bench, close your eyes and listen to them chatter in that strange tongue of theirs. If that doesn't melt away layers of stress, strain and tension that city-dwelling cakes you with, I will eat my hat! I walked over to the tiny lake with a tiny boat in it and stood over the tiny bridge gazing at the water.
This was time for retrospection - if not on life, at least on this trip. Did I come looking for something special to Ooty - nothing more than good time. And yes, maybe to satisfy the urge that I have always felt since childhood. The sight of mountains does something to me - I keep seeing lush green valley surrounded by mountains when I am day-dreaming. Dark deep forests which are fast disappearing beckon me. And this has always puzzled me for I, a product of modern civilization, haven't had much to do with nature except for the plants that grow in the balcony. Then why am I being drawn again and again to the babbling waterfalls, carpets of wild flowers, clouds about to descend on the far horizon, waves of mist shrouding the valley? Is it that a tiny part of some gene still remembers a life lived centuries ago? Am I still tied to some such existence by an invisible yet strong bond? Was it some past life still tugging at the heartstrings?
Perhaps I will never find the answers, perhaps I am not meant to find them. I know one thing though - this beautiful place with a weird tongue-twisting name of Udhagamandalam has given me what I came seeking - consciously or otherwise - and more. The weather was bad but it did present me with the awesome sight of the valley playing peek-a-boo through the misty curtains. I enjoyed walking through the rains - which I doubt I would have dared to do in the city - and didn't catch cold. I pigged out on food (and homemade chocolates) without any regard to the calories I was piling on. I walked through the town looking at structures that seemed straight out of the long-gone British era. I enjoyed snuggling under the comforters and yet shivering in cold. I welcomed the warmth of the portable heater. I savored the haunting melodies that the musician in the resort lobby played as the evenings turned to nights outside. I became a child again as I chugged along with the mountain train towards Coonoor. I looked at the tiny swing in the backyard garden of the house in front of my room when I got up in the morning, tried to peer at it when I tucked in for the night and imagined what the valley must look like from there. Oh yes, Ooty had left me richer than before, much richer than I had ever hoped for.
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