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.

The Veteran

"The Veteran" by Frederick Forsyth was next on my reading list. Actually I was getting rather tired of reading one whole book. I also knew that I won't get time to read such a book so I chose this book which has 5 different stories.

The first story is "The Veteran". An old man is found mugged on a pavement in a seedy area of town and succumbs to his injuries later in a hospital. There is an eye-witness - a Mr. Vijay Patel (Why do so many Indian characters in novels have last name of Patel? Guess it's a matter of numbers really!) - who identifies the 2 thugs responsible for the murder. Just when the cops in charge of the investigation are assuring themselves that they will be able to "put away" the murderers this time, in walks Mr. Bright Barrister who "turns justice on its head" by making sure that they get scot-free. And the end of the story reminds you of Jeffrey Archer's "A twist in the tale".

"The Art of the Matter" tells the story of another of those faceless, nameless "extras" who had come to the movie industry in search of name and fame but didn't get anything except for raw deal. Trumpington Gore is barely able to make both ends meet when he remembers an old painting his aunt had bequeathed on him. This brings him to the famous House of Darcy for valuation. He is swindled out of his fortune and a staff member who could have been a "potential witness" is sacked as the sacrificial lamb by one of the high-flying guys at Darcy's who is out to make money for himself. The rest is a delightful story of how these two team up to hand the guy his come-uppance. The story becomes complicated at some points - especially for those of us who are not familiar with Renaissance and stuff J but it's hugely satisfying as the bad guy is punished for his evil deeds :-)

The next story "The Miracle" is about an American couple who has come to see some kind of religious celebration in Siena. The wife twists her ankle on the cobbled streets of the ancient city and the German guy who treats her tells them a story of Caterina of Mercy - a ghostly nun who moved about the injured soldiers in the city during WW2 and didn't let even one of them die despite poor medical help. Though I found the description of the religious celebration rather complicated, I liked the story and could guess the ending before turning the last page. :-)

The 4th story "The Citizen" happens aboard a flight returning to UK from Thailand. One of the passengers is a witness to a midnight rendezvous between a hippie in an economy class and a well-dressed gentleman in 1st class. A conscious citizen that he is, he sends a note to the pilot. The authorities in London smell cocaine and turn up in full force to nab the smugglers with their cache as the touchdown happens at Heathrow. There's a twist in the tale again which I am happy to report I figured out in advance :-)

I think the last story is "Whispering Wind" though I could be wrong because the name's kind of stuck in my brain. I read through the first 4 pages of this story and thought of going to the library to return the book - honest to God! Was this supposed to be a lesson on Native American tribes? What's with the Sioux and Cheyenne and all that? I was hopelessly lost. It was sheer laziness and reluctance to return any book without fully reading it that made me read it to its conclusion :-(

And in the end I felt sorry for myself for wasting so much of time and sorry for Whispering Wind for what the Craig character does to her life. :-(

Many lives, Many masters

I picked up "Many lives, many masters" by Brian Weiss after reading "The Eight". Being a Hindu, there is nothing new in the concept of reincarnation for me. But I wanted to know how a westerner and a psychologist at that had dealt with it. This is not make-belief fiction, if the back-cover of the book is anything to go by. This is what has actually happened with Dr. Weiss and he has apparently risked his professional reputation in publishing this book. So what is it all about?

Dr. Weiss was treating a young woman called Catherine for many of her phobias and fears which had become so severe that they had started affecting her day-to-day life. When conventional therapy failed to bring about any results, Dr. Weiss decided to try Hypnosis. He wasn't however prepared for what it brought forth.

In a sort of past-life regression, Catherine, under hypnosis, was able to recall her past lives on this earth through many centuries and in different countries. She could pinpoint how experiences and traumas in these lives were the root causes of many of her anxieties and fears in this life. But she could do more - in the in-between-lives state, when her spirit was out of one life and waiting to get in another, she was able to listen to the messages from highly evolved spirits called "Masters" and bring these messages to Dr. Weiss.

Dr. Weiss would have dismissed these things but for the fact that Catherine who didn't know much about his family told him many things about his father and his firstborn son - both dead - while in one of the in-between-lives state. Add to it the fact that Catherine got cured of her phobias and fears. That's what prompted the doc to write about this and that's how we get to hear about the masters and the different planes that the spirits occupy based on their progression through countless lives.

It was an interesting read. It confirmed many of the beliefs of my religion e.g. that the soul is immortal and keeps changing bodies, that your next birth depends on your "Karma" in this life and so on. I also think it is possible for some people to remember some things from their past lives - especially if their impact was strong. But I found it hard to believe that there are such things as these masters or that Catherine could ferry messages from them. However, it's rather like ghost sightings. I mean, the one who has seen them believes and others simply think that he/she is nuts!

Some other questions:

1. Catherine can recognize some people from her past lives as the same ones from her present life. E.g. her niece in her present life was her daughter in one of her past lives. I wonder if these people were born with the face and that's how she recognized them or did she recognize the soul - not the face? I, for one, am not very thrilled about being born with the same face in every life. Again, this won't hold much water if you are born as a man in one life and as a woman in next. Dr. Weiss doesn't explain this.

2. The masters say that souls choose their next lives based on what they want to learn. But then as so many people would doubtless confirm, many of us don't have a clue as to what we are doing here J so how can a soul ensure that he/she fulfills his/her life's mission when he/she forgets about it the minute he/she is born?

3. Why did the "masters" send these messages to Dr. Weiss? If all of us are supposed to find this out on our own, what was the need to channel these messages through Catherine?

4. The last question was brought forth by a friend of mine as I told him about this book over tea. According to Hinduism, a soul is born as a human after going through countless other forms of life e.g. birds, insects and animals. And based on his/her karma, a human in his/her next life can be one of these life-forms as well instead of being a human again. Catherine however recalls only human lives. Does that mean that we are born only as humans? Then who is born as birds, insects and animals? Conversely, if what Hinduism teaches is right and Catherine couldn't recall any such life then is there any learning from such lives? If yes, is it lost forever?

Questions, questions everywhere, not an answer in sight :-(

I received these 2 gems last week as SMSs:

Attitude is what life is all about:
Soldier - sir, we are surrounded by enemies on all sides
Major - excellent! We can attack in any direction

Silence and smile are two powerful tools.
Smile is the way to solve many problems and silence is the way to avoid many problems.

The Eight

Surprisingly, I seem to be reading books faster than I can write about them here. So I am now trying to catch up. :-)

The book that I finished reading last week was "The Eight" by Katherine Neville. The plot in a nutshell is like this: Catherine Vellis - an accountant and computer expert is forced to go to Algeria on a project with a little-known organization called OPEC. As if this is not enough, she finds herself burdened with the responsibility of recovering the chess pieces belonging to what was called the Montglane Service that was rumored to have been gifted by some moors to Charlemagne - the king of the Franks. These pieces are supposed to be scattered to far corners of the earth in an attempt at stopping anyone from putting the service together to unleash the powerful forces associated with it.

It's a gripping tale and it's creditable considering that this is the debut novel of the authoress. But I must confess that some of the mathematical and musical explanations were a bit too much to grasp for me and so I skipped them. The tale keeps going back and forth between what's happening in Catherine's life in 1973 and what had happened in life of the French girl Mireille - who was forced to scatter the pieces all across the world - in 1793. It's a bit dizzying at times. What's more, it's difficult to keep track of the cast - at least for someone like me who is not familiar with the tongue-twisting French names - not to mention their titles.

All in all, a delightful book - save only for the intricacies of chess, music and mathematics.

Udhagamandalam - Day 2

My prayers were not answered however because when I got up in the morning it was raining and the valley was hidden behind the curtain of mist. Though it looked beautiful I was not happy that my sightseeing plans were already dashed. All throughout the breakfast I kept glancing outside with vague hopes of the weather getting cleared up. The rain was still with us when I approached the desk of the concierge - fortified by a hearty breakfast. He agreed that the weather didn't look good and might not clear up at all. He also advised me to stay indoors. But I wasn't ready to spend the whole day looking at the sad and disappointed faces of the fellow guests. So I told him I wanted to go out on the sightseeing tour as planned earlier- come rain or sunshine! I am sure he must have shaken his head at my stubbornness as soon as I turned my back but I didn't care.

My first halt was at the Botanical Gardens. It was still drizzling so I had to purchase an umbrella which I suspect the shopkeeper sold me for a handsome profit. Frankly speaking, I wasn't expecting much from this garden, I was 100% sure that inside I will find a few saplings, trees and assorted flora in various stages of neglect. But boy, was I wrong! The park was vast - there is no other word for it. And it was meticulously kept clean. No piles of stinking garbage waiting to welcome you! Though the flowers had tuned soggy at places because of the continuous drizzle it was a sight to behold with stretches of roads, walkways, a lake full of lotus leaves, a map of India made entirely out of shrubs, small brooks gurgling away merrily where you least expected them to be and a small neat coffee shop tucked away in a corner. My only regret was that hadn't it been raining I would have enjoyed it more. If you are in Ooty, don't miss this one.

Though I must have spent about one and a half hours inside, I was sure I hadn't covered everything. I hoped I would b able to come back again one day when it was not raining and check this place out. Why aren't there any shooting stars around when you sooo want to make a wish?

"Where are we going now" I asked the driver. "Tea factory and museum, madam" I did remember seeing a board on the first day on my way to the resort. I was surprised by the traffic jam outside the factory. It looked like lots of tourists had turned up there despite the bad weather. I was happy I wasn't the only crazy one. As I handed the tickets to the guy who opened the door he asked me if conversation in Hindi will be ok. I nodded and refrained from telling him that I wouldn't have understood any word he spoke in Tamil. He showed me some tea leaves stacked in a corner, parroted some information about this first step of the tea making process and told me I can take photo if I wanted. I told him "Photo nahi lena hai" (I don't want to take any snaps). He asked me if I have paid for taking snaps. I said yes and he started giving me my money back. Now I was confused. A few exchanges later I realized that he had misunderstood by remark to mean that I didn't want to take any photos and thus was paying me my money back! I must have stared with my mouth agape at this honesty. I cleared up the misunderstanding quickly and while we waited for more tourists to come I checked out the displays which made up for the museum.

They started with the tale of how tea was invented. A king - I have forgotten whether he was Japanese or Chinese, I think Chinese - was out with his entourage. He was very particular about boiling water before drinking it. The servents were boiling water when some leaves of a nearby shrub fell in - turning the water in a broth. The king tested it and he found it to be refreshing. Voila! The tea was discovered. Frankly, I don't think the king would have had it in him to taste an unfamiliar broth. I remember reading that the kings used to make slaves eat their food first to discover any attempt at poisoning. There used to be special chopsticks to discover that as well. So most likely the first ever taster of tea would have been a servant. Whatever the case, I thanked them both for such momentous discovery! On a display some distance ahead I read about the delightful "Boston Tea Party" that had always amused me as a child. Imagine the joy of dumping so much of tea in the water! Now as an adult I didn't find such a waste remotely amusing.

There was quite a crowd now so we all dutifully followed the guide who took us through various steps of tea making. I quickly learnt and forgot the full form of CTC. I took snaps of the weird looking machinery as I wondered who would have thought of designing it. Jokes apart, it was amazing to see what processes go into making the "humble" hot cuppa tea! As the factory tour ended, I handed out coupon that I was given at the entrance to a guy who poured me a cup of cardamom tea. I tasted it and immediately moved to the selling counter. All around me every tourist worth his or her salt (or was it tea?) was pointing to the tea just served and demanding the same. I joined the party and bought one pack. It just tasted so great! My advice - if you ever step into this tea factory, don't you dare step out without buying this cardamom tea. Oh and as I bought the pack I was told in no uncertain terms that I have to prepare it in milk only - no drop of water should be used. I nodded as I made my way back to the waiting car.

"Madam, don't do boating at Ooty Lake, its much better to do it at Pykara lake" the driver told me as he dropped me near ticket counter. The lake was sort of overflowing with water - and with tourists. Frankly the lake and the crowd both rather turned me off. Since I didn't have to do boating there waited just long enough to buy some homemade chocolates at a shop before walking towards the board marked as "Thread Garden".

I am ashamed to say that I wasn't listening very attentively when the attendant there told how this garden was made. It is a display of flowers and shrubs made entirely out of colored threads. The lighting was a bit dim - maybe to make it look more like the real thing. But the display was amazing. The fake flowers matched their real counterparts perfectly. A small pond with lotus flowers and leaves was breathtaking. Simply put, if no one told you it was fake, you wouldn't realize it was fake! I am not sure if this garden is going to be there permanently because what they had seemed like a make-shift arrangement to me. But if you go to Ooty Lake, do inquire about this garden and don't miss the chance to check it out.

It was going to be a drive of 45 minutes to Pykara falls. It was a scenic route. What I will always remember is one stretch of the route which had trees/shrubs all laden with beautiful yellow flowers. It looked like a riot of yellow color all around, Simply amazing! Presently we passed a dam - the driver informed me that the last climax in the movie Roja (starring Arvind Swami and Madhu) was shot here. He also told me that most of the film was shot in the Nilgiris. The loud honking from the car behind made us speed up our car but the driver shook his head and said since the water wasn't released in the dam, there won't be much to see at the falls. I digested this disappointing news in silence. When we reached the sight of the falls, he repeated again told me not to expect anything spectacular "it's just a step waterfall, madam" whatever that meant. I just nodded, managed a weak smile and got down.

You have to walk for some distance from where the cars drop you in order to reach the falls. I was grateful for that. It wasn't raining for a change though the sky was laden with some dark clouds. It wasn't crowded here but it wasn't deserted either - all about me I could see tourists in small groups chatting their way to falls. It was so refreshing to look at the green landscape that I hardly noticed that I was climbing uphill at places. When I reached the top I saw that the waterfall was really tiny but the surrounding area was very scenic. There were lots of rocks about and the lake beyond. On one side you could see a dense clump of trees bordering the lake. And it was very quiet - save the twitter of an occasional bird in the bush. I took photo after photo - trying my best to capture the scene. Then it started drizzling again.

On my way back I didn't have much reason to stop at the broken down house where a woman collected money for the ticket. But stop I did. The house must have been spacious once but now was in a very sorry state with its roof gone and walls as well as floor crumbling about. It's always so sad to look at an abandoned house. And this one looked sadder because it was in the midst of so much of natural beauty. I wondered who it belonged to and why was it abandoned. I looked at the 2 small children who were busy piling on logs to keep the fire going in one corner. They must be of the lady selling tickets. Maybe their presence there reminded the house of its long-forgotten days?

My second last stop for the day was Pykara lake. But I was in no luck here. The rain which was following me like a pup all around Ooty was still with me when I reached the lake. I should have guessed there was bad news from the disappointed faces of the tourists nearby. But hoping against hope I enquired about boating. The guy selling tickets for the same told me apologetically that the lake was overflowing and they would not rent the boats till it stopped raining because there was a strong wind. I cast a long hungry look at the lake - it had a faraway haunted look about it. The whole atmosphere had a kind of a greenish grayish tinge due to the drizzle. I took snaps and went to a small hotel nearby to kill time as well as to have a cuppa hot tea.

But as soon as I stepped in I regretted my decision. A strong smell of fried fish came wafting out. I do eat non-veg and am not averse to fried fish myself. But the smell was too strong and had a sort of oily undercurrent to it. It didn't help matters when through the open door I caught sight of their disorderly kitchen where a couple of guys were laboring over stoves. I wanted to turn back. But I needed tea - only to console myself that it wouldn't be end of the world if I could not do boating in the lake. So I sat there and ordered tea. I was sure that I will have 2 sips and get out. But the tea was good - with a strong cardamom flavor which seems to be the specialty of the region. I drank it to the very last drop as I sat watching them prepare the large meal that a group - probably fishermen - sitting in a corner nearby had ordered.

Things hadn't changed much when I stepped out of the hotel. The rain was still with us and most of the tourists who like me had waited hopefully for it to subside were very reluctantly turning back towards their cars. I looked at the lake again. Dare I say I will be back one day? How strange is life that so often gives us but one chance to see some places? We do sometimes manage to get back for a second visit but 9 times out of 10 we find the place changed - sometimes even in a relatively short span of say, 6 months. And then we wish we hadn't come back again. :-(

It was with such slightly philosophical thoughts that I started for my last destination for the day. It was supposed to be a scenic point - the kind you have in places like Matheran and Mahabaleshwar in Maharashtra. The car stopped at the foot of a hillock and I climbed my way up. The view from above was breathtaking. All around me I could see hills and trees. The sky at the far horizon seemed laden with rain-bearing clouds. A small cluster of houses was visible in the distance along with a small road threading its way past them. I saw a jeep slowing making its way across the road. A patch of water could be seen shimmering in the distance. I wasn't sure whether it was Ooty lake. I felt as if the whole of my trip could be condensed in this one moment. I could have stayed there forever. But the sad fact was that I needed to get back.

I sat looking through all the photos I had taken during the day as the car started on its journey back to the resort. The rain had certainly played spoilsport - wet blanker is a more befitting term I guess - but I had still managed to visit beautiful places and capture magical moments. And to be fair, the distant horizon flecked with rainy clouds had provided a special magical poetic frame to every photo I had taken. But don't tell this to the rain God. He might decide to come and visit me again tomorrow :-(

Navy hoists tricolour at North Pole

Amid the headlines of the inflation scaling new heights and the Quota verdict by the Supreme Court, many Indians might have missed this proud moment brought about by their Navy:

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/Navy_hoists_tricolour_at_North_Pole/articleshow/2942663.cms

Three cheers for the Men in White! Way to go guys!