Sailing from Charni Road to Portpatrick

I woke up at 7am and headed to Carrickfergus. It was a gloomy morning, and only two other people had arrived - the rest were on their way. We were going to leave for Portpatrick between 11am and noon, so I was very early. I took the train. Shruti, Kevin and Brenna joined me on the train as we headed to South Bombay. We got off the train at Charni Road (although from the layout of the platforms and bridges it seemed more like Mahalaxmi). I wanted to use the toilet. Shruti and I looked for it. We could only find the one marked Ladies but not the one marked Gents. We arked around and was eventually led to the station master's office. There were a bunch of people inside, a few sitting around a table, having some sort of meeting, while the rest were in a queue. It was a queue for the toilet!

Thr toilet and the station master/meeting room were in one big room, with nothing to separate them - the toilet was a commode surrounded by filing cabinets and files and stacks of paper other things you'd expect to see in a station master's office. I didn't really pay attention to the queue ahead of me and before I realized it, it was my turn. There was nobody queued up after me, and I was thankful. I would have really liked some privacy but the best I could get was the fact that there was nobody in the room other than Shruti, and the bunch of men having a meeting in the other half of the room - the men were bent over something on the desk and discussing it animatedly, so Iwas quite sure they wouldn't pay me any attention.

Right after I sat on the commode, I started feeling very weird. I felt dizzy and unstable. I asked Shruti to come closer and hold my hand, as I felt I was about to faint and fall off the commode and make a mess. She held my left hand and asked me what happened and if I'm OK. I told her I'll need a minute but I feel better already.

In the meantime, a lady walked in, wearing a white nurse's uniform, including a nurse's cap.

I somehow assumed she was in charge of keeping the toilet clean, and complained to her, while still seated on it, that it was not. She replied that it's not her fault it's not clean, as I'm the one currently using it. I told her it wasn't clean before I used it, and in fact I almost fainted as it was so dirty. She refused to believe me until Shruti backed me up.

Job done and I was back on the platform. We took the bridge on to the road. We were trying to get to the beach, but I took the wrong bridge out and we had to walk along the road, and take another bridge to get on to the beach. Kevin and Brenna were waiting at the end of the bridge, and I told them they should come sailing too. At that point, a group of about 3 or 4 older people (one of whom resembled my school science teacher) told me it was too late to go sailing - it was already noon! Also, we were at Charni Road, and the boat left from Carrickfergus!

I wondered why Hugh didn't call me when he was leaving - I thought about it a bit and realized he may have not left yet, but I definitely wouldn't make it, so I should message him instead and tell him that I couldn't make it. I also told everyone that we weren't sailing today as it had gotten too late.

And that's when I woke up. It was 8am. I had dismissed my 7:40am alarm in my sleep. If I didn't leave at 8:30am, I'd have been late to get to Carrickfergus to go sailing! I thought to myself, damn - that was really close! If I didn't wake up when I did, I'd have actually missed sailing that day!

ps: Turns out I had not read my email and we were actually supposed to get to Carrickfergus at 10am instead of the usual 9am. Still!

I dream of blogging

I was in a café, with Sidharth, Reshma and Shweta. It's hard to say where the café was, and there was no visible branding, but it did vaguely seem like it was in India. It felt like evening, and it felt like we had been there for a while. I abruptly turned the conversation to my blog. I told them, I've recently gotten back to my old style blog. The same style as what I used to write when I was in VJTI. In fact, the plan is to continue the old blog. Sidharth seemed unimpressed. I told him it would be interesting! The blog has stuff about our VJTI days, like copying Shweta's assignments and Reshma's notes.

Sidharth still seemed unimpressed. He said he'll decide when he can read it. How could he read it? 

This caught me off guard. How could Sidharth read my blog? I fumbled a bit, and then told him, it's in a database. An access database. 

He was even more unimpressed. What sort of blog is in an access database? 

That's when I woke up and decided I need to make sure my blog is fully uploaded to the Internet before the year is over! 

killing dad

I was in my parents' apartment in Mumbai. It was late afternoon.

Dad and I were having some sort of fight. It wasn't verbal. But it wasn't physical either. It was still a fight - the feeling of being physically threatened was very strong. I thought about how I could defend myself. But there was no way I could hide from my dad or prevent him from getting to me.

I considered getting out of the apartment from the terrace, climbing over the wall and sliding down the drain pipe. The thought of doing that and falling was scary, and I was afraid dad might still get me.

I decided the best thing to do was to run away from home.

As I opened the door, mom heard me and called out from the kitchen - "take care", she said.

I left without saying a word. I had actually hoped to leave the hosue without anyone noticing, but it was obvious that plan had failed.

Just as I shut the door I realized how stupid I had been. I could have locked dad INSIDE the apartment - all I had to do was lock the gate to the terrace, take the keys with me (there were no duplicates that I know of), and lock the main door from outside. I didn't have the set of keys to lock the main door from the outside (only dad had them) but I could have pushed a rod through the latch and shut it anyway. There were even plenty of rods that would have fit, on the terrace!

In the fraction of a moment I took to contemplate my stupidity, I also realized I had not carried my motorbike keys. Another ridiculous mistake. At least I had my wallet, although in my hurry I hadn't checked if there was any money inside.

As I ran down the stairs, I thought to myself: the motorbike was out of the question. Dad would have shot me getting out of the gate. Maybe I had a chance if I silently pushed the bike out of the gate and rolled down the street before starting the engine when far enough for him not to hear it. But that was irrelevant now - I didn't have the keys!

I then thought I'd meet a similar fate if I tried to exit the building by either of the gates on foot as well - dad would see me from the terrace and shoot me.

The only way out was to jump the wall and into the next apartment compound, and then the other wall into the one after that, to get to the next street without dad being able to see me. And that's what I did.

Once on the street, I thought about what I should do next. The first thing I did was check my wallet. And my worst fear was true - it was empty. So much for being able to run away. I hadn't even eaten yet!

I noticed the queue of rickshaws parked right next to where I was. None of the drivers were about. I got into the first rickshaw in the queue. The key was in. I turned it, and surprisingly, it cranked and turned on! I have never ridden a rickshaw before, so being able to start it on the first try took me by complete surprise.

I decided to use the rickshaw to get some distance between home and myself, but as I started driving the rickshaw I realized I had absolutely no clue what I was doing. I didn't even know how to change gears or operate the brakes!

I got the rickshaw around the corner and managed to stop it. That was scary. I had better think of a better plan.

That's when I realized I was right next to uncle Dirk's apartment building. I thought I could hide out there for a bit while I considered my next move.

As I got out of the rickshaw I took the key with me, just in case I needed the rickshaw later.

I entered the gate, and right behind it, dad was there!

He was dressed in his Sunday best, and I was surprised that he had the time to dress up and get there before me, and without me even seeing him - I hadn't taken more than a couple of minutes at the most.

He grinned at me and asked if I thought I'd be able to get away from him that easily, and that too by trying to go to the most obvious hideout. I didn't answer but pushed past him into the elevator.

The elevator was a construction elevator - it had no walls and was literally strung on a few steel cables. There were no buttons to select the floor - instead there was just a lever that could be pulled up or down to go up or down (and presumably returned to the middle to stop). I pulled it up just as dad jumped on to the elevator platform.

I held on to a bar at the corner of the elevator - dad stood next to me, at the edge of the elevator, not holding anything.

I swung my right leg at his legs, which, if I had connected, would have thrown him off the elevator and tumbling to a serious injury or death.

Dad, sidestepped, grinning, and I missed his legs completely.

That's when I realized I could have killed dad if he hadn't dodged me so well.

And I woke up.

driving a bus to goa

I was at this bus showroom in Mumbai. It was in Goregaon, just inside the entrance of Aarey.

I was just given the keys to a brand new bus.

I was going to drive the bus to Goa.

I climbed into the driver's seat, turned the key, and the bus's engine roared to life.

The bus already had passengers in it. They were all kids, wearing school uniforms for some reason. There was also someone sitting in the "jump seat" of the bus, he was my navigator.

It was late afternoon, and we set off without wasting a minute.

The first thing I had to do was find reverse gear - the bus was parked adjoining the road, but it was pointing the wrong way, so for some reason I decided to get the bus on to Aarey road in reverse.

Once in reverse, I let go of the clutch and the bus was in motion. But I realized it was quite difficult to drive the bus in reverse.

This bus had a strange arrangement where I could sit on the opposite side of the steering wheel if I was driving it in reverse - somewhat like I learned to do when parking a boat in reverse. I moved around into that position, so I was now facing the rear of the bus and able to look out of the clear windows at the rear and drive it in reverse without looking into my mirrors.

Obviously there were massive blind spots all around so I realized I couldn't drive the bus in reverse too far without having an accident. A few hundred metres later (the bus was quite quick in reverse!) I spotted a lay-by which was broad enough to turn the bus around, so I drove straight (ie reversed) into it. I then shifted the bus into first, and still facing the rear of the bus, backed out of the space I had just driven into, backwards! Once the bus was out far enough for the rear end to be able to turn without touching the wall, I turned the steering wheel and got the bus halfway around.

I then moved back into the normal driving position (ie facing out of the front of the bus), waited for the road to be completely clear of traffic and completed the turn. Luckily for me, there was hardly any traffic, and I also thanked my stars that I was driving in India, where smaller vehicles give way to bigger vehicles.

This is when I realized I hadn't fully memorized the gear pattern of the bus - I only knew where first and reverse were. In fact, the gear pattern was completely different from every car I've driven - the spot that would usually be first was an extra neutral, and reverse was the extreme right but centre.

The tachometer got close to 5000 RPM and I realized I had to shift quickly or I'd be over-revving the engine. I shifted into what I thought was second, but the bus jerked to a sudden halt and stalled.

I pulled the parking brake, and looked at the gear pattern. It was quite complicated, and I did my best to memorize it. I also described it to my navigator, and told him if I'd ask him where was a certain gear, he was responsible for reminding me.

I then realized I had forgotten how to start the bus. I remembered I had to turn the key, but couldn't remember which way. I tried turning the key back and forth randomly, until the engine cranked, and the bus was moving again. I still couldn't remember which way finally worked, but I figured I could try moving it back and forth randomly the next time and I'd remember it eventually.

Luckily for me the road was pretty clear and soon I had driven all the way to Ghatkopar.

At that time I was suddenly aware that I had not drunk any water and the stress of learning to drive the bus had left me quite parched. I realized the street I was on was very familiar - it was right where my uncle  Irwin (who recently pased away) and aunt lived.

I parked the bus on the side of the road and entered the building. I had my bluetooth earbuds on, and called the navigator and spoke to him on the handsfree as I climbed the stairs. My aunt lived on the fourth floor, and as I climbed the stairs I kept describing what I saw to the navigator. But then, as I reached the fourth floor, I realized all the apartment doors were bricked up. I got to where the apartment should have been and saw it was bricked up as well.

I said on the phone that I'm going to have to go back down and find another way. As I climbed back down the stairs I met a middle aged man climbing up.

He said he had followed me up and asked me what I was doing there. I told him I was going to visit my aunt who lived at the last apartment on the fourth floor.

He said he was in charge of the security of the building and that all visitors had to sign in with him before entering. He lived in an apartment on the ground floor and escorted me to it.

He asked me to come inside and have a seat on the couch while he brought out the visitor's register for me to sign.

I told him I was very thirsty and asked if I could get a glass of water.

He told me he just had a jug of "jaljeera" ready and asked if I would like a glass of that instead. I replied that I'd love some jaljeera and he poured me a glass.

As I drank the glass of chilled jaljeera, his young son entered the room. The boy sat cross legged on the floor with a notebook and started drawing or scribbling in it.

The man gave me the visitor register and a pen. Before I filled it in, I asked him how I could get to the apartment as the door was bricked up.

He told me there was another entrance on the other side of the building and I could get to the apartment through that entrance.

I told the man I was still thirsty and asked if I could have some more. He didn't pour more jaljeera for me though - instead, he topped my glass up with cold water, and it was now extgremely diluted jaljeera, the colour pale from the dregs of what was left in the glass before he refilled it.

I drank the glass of cold water/diluted jaljeera, and just then the navigator who was still on the phone (and could hear my half of the conversation) asked me what was taking so long, and that I should hurry as it was getting dark and the passengers were getting restless. I didn't reply to the navigator, but instead told the man that I was going to visit my relatives to ask for some water, but as I wasn't thirsty any more, I didn't need to visit them.

I stood up to leave without filling the register, thanked the man, and let myself out of the apartment. As I was stepping out I noticed it had gotten dark outside and I would have to drive all the way to Goa in the dark. I told the navigator I was getting back to the bus and would be there in less than a minute.

And that's when I woke up.

running at night

I was on a flight to mumbai. it was dark, and the air was heavy with moisture, although it wasn't raining.

the flight was weird - when it was landing, there were no lights of the city to welcome us. we landed on an airstrip in the middle of what seemed like a jungle. in fact, the area around the airstrip was densely overgrown with what seemed like a tropical rainforest. the trees glistened dark green in the glow of the few lights beside the runway, whick looked more like street lights than anything you'd see at an airport.

once off the plane, we were in a huge shed that served as an airport terminal. while it was pretty huge, it still wasn't anywhere as huge as most airports - about a couple of hundred feet wide and a little less high, and maybe a thousand feet long. the insides were dimly lit and there were loads of people milling about, but no shops or anything like that. in fact, the floor was just tarmac! it was shaped like half a cylinder. it seemed to be made of what seemed like corrugated sheets, and a few metal girders here and there.

i didn't have any bags other than my regular purple cabin bag, so there was no baggage to claim (although if there was, I don't remember seeing any baggage claim area - or customs, border control, or anything else!).

however, I did bump into aunt Dooda! she was directing passengers to the exit of the "airport", which was at the other end of the shed from where we entered it. I asked her how come she was at the airport, and she said she took up this job as she was getting bored at home. I asked her if she would be going home anytime soon, so we could travel together. she had a few hours of work left, so she couldn't.

I also bumped into Apoorv. I had a sense that he was on same the flight as I was, but we were somehow separated after we disembarked. We decided to share a cab, as we lived near enough.

Outside the airport terminal, we got into a cab. It was a rickety white maruti omni, and as we didn't have any large luggage, we fit quite comfortably. the seating was strange though: instead of the two rows of seats facing each other, there were seats on either side. Apoorv and I sat facing each other, and as the taxi drove us to Borivali, the city seemed dark and almost deserted.

Borivali was quite usual though, the streets seemed quite well lit, although perhaps not too busy. I don't remember the time of night - it's possible it was quite late.

As we got nearer to home though, the cab didn't take the usual route - it was passing though one of the more forested areas near home. The cab was headed up a steep hill, when in the distance, I saw what looked like dad!

He was in his favourite blue checked shirt and shorts, and for some reason he was running up the hill!

My first thought was: at his age he certainly shouldn't be running!

My second thought was: let's surprise him! And then give him a lift home.

I instructed the cab driver to drive past him and then stop.

As soon as the cab stopped, we opened the back door of the cab, and while still inside, I called out "Lucian", trying to disguise my voice best I could.

He walked up to the cab and peered inside (there were no lights on inside, so he couldn't see us very well).

Apoorv called out to him and said "surprise!!" And I hugged him and asked him to come home with me in the cab.

He was happy to see me, and as he got into the cab, it started to rain.

And that's when I woke up.

the dream-reality diary

i woke up from the strangest dream.

it revolved around my diary.

there were so many things happening with my diary-dream i'm kinda losing the link between them. but the essence of my dream was that my diary had a link with reality (whatever happened in my life was written in my diary, as it is with most diaries). the writing didn't happen automatically, because i was writing it down myself. but it seemed like i was writing it as it happened, while not being physically present with the diary wherever it was actually happening. but i was also physically present wherever reality was happening (ie it was happening to me and not to someone else). so it's almost like there were two realities i was experiencing at the same time, one of which was sitting at a desk on a sunny afternoon at my parents place, writing in my diary. however, it didn't "feel" like there were two of me: it was more like my mind was jumping between the two bodies, while simultaneously experiencing both. my reality was all in india, experiences that were plausible with people i remember, but nothing that actually happened although they seemed real at the time.

but then comes the funny part: i could strike off parts of the diary that I had written, and they would cease to have happened. my diary also had scribbles in the margins, and modifying those scribbles seemed to have a two-way link with reality, with a similar feeling of being present in both.

and then, there were the dreams: there were pages in my diary which were clearly dreams, and as i flipped through them i spotted glimpses of familiar ones that i've blogged. and it almost seemed like there was a link between my blog and my diary, because everything i've blogged was also in in. during the dream (which seemed to last a few days), i had a few dreams, which i was transcribing at various points: one was a dream about the differences between being an English-speaking tourist in France and Germany. in the dream within the dream. I was comparing the phrases you'd have to learn to be able to get by in either country. the situations were so weird and the phrases even more so, that i concluded while writing these down that it wasn't reality but a dream that i was transcribing. once i was conscious that i was writing dreams in my diary, i didn't bother editing embarrassing bits out.

another dream within my dream was about shruti having a conversation with two of her friends, and suddenly putting me on the phone. the strange bit about this dream is that i was dreaming of writing my diary while on the phone! so it was a dream of writing my diary within a dream of writing my diary, except that in the dream within the dream, it was the same physical existence that was writing the diary and speaking on the phone. and somehow that convinced me that i was dreaming within my dream!

back out of the diary-dream within the dream, i kept flipping pages in my diary, and even read a few old pages - these were actually days of my life from a few years ago that i can distinctly remember to this day. but the difference between those old pages and the ones that i wrote over the course of the dream was that te new ones felt like reality and the old ones felt like text.

also, the dreams and reality pages of the diary were not adjacent, and i kept cross referencing the two, involving a lot of flipping back and forth, and occasionally getting lost between the two. that was another strange thing about the diary-writing me: i didn't have to struggle to keep up with reality (and i'm a real slow writer!), and i didn't feel any pressure to keep up. i could flip back and forth while writing, even read some stuff in between, and it didn't seem like i was losing sync with reality.

now that i think about it, it almost seemed like the writing of the diary controlled reality!

at one point, i got confused when flipping between the dream and reality sections of the diary (i was searching for reality but read a dream that i didn't remember, and it took a good bit of reading before i concluded it was a dream!). i flipped more carefully, nothing the number of blank pages between both sections. it seems i just had a few dozen pages left of reality before i run out of space to write.

which meant i would need a new diary. i wondered if i should go for a hard-bound one (like my first diary) or a soft bound one (like this one). i also wondered if it would be nicer to switch to green and red ink like i used to, or stick with my current boring black ballpoint pen.

and that's when i woke up.

riding in india vs riding in the uk

I was going through some of my facebook memories, and came across this one:

The start was the most interesting bit: riding in traffic. There were a few obvious differences there: the complete lack of personal space, the seemingly blind trust that everything will continue to move in a straight line at constant velocity unless indicated otherwise, no matter how close or badly positioned you are.

But there's something else that struck me: while watching the video, I somehow involuntarily felt like going WOT. Riding in Mumbai traffic now seems so SLOW! And I obviously know why: It's because my eyes and brain were literally tracking dozens of things, looking out for anything that might require corrective action. So much so, that it would be suicidal to take my eyes away from the road ahead to do a "lifesaver" (yes, ironic!).

UK riding on the hand, seems to be just "keep track of what's happening ahead of you, unless you plan to change direction or velocity" - and even then, everything is so planned and deliberate. Mirrors-signal-mirrors-blind spot-manoeuvre. You literally have 5 seconds before anything happens.

I'm curious to experience riding in Mumbai after a year of riding in Belfast. Will the lack of personal space overwhelm me, or will I just switch back into my old riding style as long as I'm there? Or worse still (and I hope not) will my trust in rule-following override the lack of safety margins?

I wonder!

Bonus video: blurry video of us riding in Ireland, last November!

brake problems

I was in Mumbai, at my parents' place. Sitting astride Vicki, in Carly's usual parking spot. It was a bright sunny day. I did my usual check (brakes, lights). Everything seemed fine. I fired up her engine, and rode out on to the street. My brother was walking alongside, and I kept a slow pace with him (yes, that was one of the skills I had to demonstrate during my off-road manoeuvres test last August). We were discussing the list of groceries that needed to be purchased. And then, abruptly, he said, "let's go get them", and made as if to hop on.

I panicked and said "wait! don't hop on while the bike is moving! let me stop!", but it was too late. He hopped on nimbly, and the bike didn't so much as twitch! Reminded me of school days when he was so good at hopping on and off the bicycle (we had axle extensions that he would stand on) that I wouldn't know if he had hopped on or not. At that point, I realized neither of us were wearing a helmet. As I thought about which route would be least likely to have cops waiting around, I also thought to myself that two guys on a large motorcycle like Vicki would be rather conspicuous in these days of social distancing.

I made up my mind about which direction I wanted to go, and rounded a turn, when I came almost head to head with a speeding car (it was a white honda, I remember!) driving on the wrong side of the road!I slammed the brakes, and strangely enough, the front brakes didn't engage at all! The car swerved past me, and in that split second I figured the only plausible explanation was that this road had changed to a one-way during these months (years!) I've been away. I gingerly took a U turn, feathering the rear brake (another skill I had to demonstrate during the off-road manoeuvres test), hoping nobody noticed I was riding the wrong way. As I took the turn, I noticed a long queue of people waiting for a bus at the stop. The bus got around the corner, exactly the way I had ridden seconds ago, just as I was getting to it. The corner was a really tight one, and I had to brake again as the bus did not leave enough room to pass. Another hair-raising stop, thanks to the front brakes not working.

Made it around the corner, and Kevin got off - I decided to not take any more chances and ride the 100 metres or so home by myself. Tested the brakes now, and they worked perfectly, just as they did when starting off.

Got home, parked, and checked if there were bubbles visible in the brake oil reservoir. None.

That's when I kinda woke up. Heart still pounding from the dream.

The dream continued - I checked the CBS system by pushing one of the pistons of the front brake in, and then pressing the rear brake to check if it activated. It did. Really strange.

That's when I was conscious of the sun falling on my face, and woke up.

Checked my watch, it was two hours earlier than usual.

Tried to go back to sleep, but my pounding heart wasn't letting me.

As I got out of bed, I remembered Vicki does not even have CBS.

one year in belfast

(yes, this post is long overdue!)

it's been a year since we moved to Belfast. in hindsight, we took even less time to settle here than we did in the home we rented after we got married, in Mumbai. Going through my memories on facebook, it seems that in just a month we went from eating supermarket ready-to-eat stuff in an airbnb to cooking our favourite foods in our kitchen, with pots and pans we purchased the day we moved in, getting our daily fix of youtube on the chromecast hooked up to our tv, which is ever-so-slightly bigger than the one we had in India.

so... what did we do in the remaining 11 months?

we got our social groove on.

we resumed traveling (not the same pace as we used to in Mumbai, but we'll get there soon!)

we got our own bicycles, tent, and other outdoor stuff.

we got a turntable, amp and speakers. transported some of my old records here, and also purchased a few more.

i got my lego here. oh yeah!

we also resumed collecting souvenirs.

i tried my hand at gardening, and gave up when i realized i didn't enjoy it much.

i'm in the process of learning to drive, and also in the process of getting my motorcycle license. and eagerly waiting for the day i can get my own two wheels!

it's hard to put my finger on the exact time i could say our move was complete, but i can definitely say that when we visited india for a vacation in december, it felt like we were leaving home.

i guess it'll take a long while for Belfast to feel as familiar as Mumbai does (did?), but that's just a matter of exploring the city and its surroundings. i could still say that i know this city as well as i knew mumbai after my first 18 or so years in mumbai!

it's very interesting to see how quickly we settled in, mainly because it seems like moving seems easier to us now.

i'd go as far as saying that we could probably pick a spot that appeals to us on a map, and if circumstances were right for us, we'd settle there happily.

this one year seems to have changed us in ways we never imagined it would.

belfast to mumbai in summer

it was a summer weekend. i was walking around in belfast. it was pretty hot, so i had taken off my shirt and put it away in my bag. as i was walking around, i passed by a crowd of people standing around and watching something. a lady was sitting on someone's shoulders and recording a video on her phone. i looked at her phone screen (the phone had pretty good zoom!) and could see it was pointed at my friend rama sitting in the balcony of her apartment. rama was being interviewed by a tv reporter in her balcony. i didn't bother asking anyone what was happening, as it started drizzling at that very moment. i wanted to wear my shirt, and suddenly started feeling embarrassed, but there were other shirtless guys around as well. i didn't want to get the insides of my bag wet, so instead of taking out the shirt, i covered my head with the bag and walked towards a more sheltered place.

the rain subsided a couple of minutes later, and i wore my shirt while i kept walking. i met vane and we made small talk while walking together. we were stopped by a couple of random indian guys who said hi and asked if i remember them. they claimed that they bumped into me a few weeks ago in belfast as well, and i didn't remember them back then either. i told them i unfortunately still couldn't remember them, but i might if they told me how we met. they said they knew me from mumbai meat marathon, but i was still blank. as we walked on, and vane asked me how come i never introduced him to the mumbai meat marathon guys. i told him it's because the mumbai meat marathon guys aren't particularly big fans of chicken biryani :D

we walked along tree lined (but unfamiliar-looking) streets until we came to a corner where nickolai and shruti were waiting for us. i was glad to see nickolai as it had been over a year since we had last met. i told her about a recent conversation i had with shruti about how i had found her "hand twin" many years ago in mumbai, and i told her that shruti's hand looks quite similar to hers. they both held out their hands and refused to agree, and it was pretty obvious that their hands looked quite different, but i refused to change my mind. finally they agreed that their hands look similar "from some angles", and changed the subject.

i told them we were walking on sydenham road, and nickolai pointed out sydenham college.

and that's when i realized we were not in belfast, but in mumbai. somewhere in khar west. and we were walking north along SV road, parallel to the railway tracks. at times, we randomly decided to climb up the stairs of buildings and walk through them instead of on the road. somewhere in between, we got separated. and then i noticed kevin following me. i stopped and called out to him, and he pretended not to see me, but then realized i was sure i had seen him and walked up to me. he told me he had been following me for a while, and was playing a game of avoiding me for as long as possible. we discussed shortcuts to home from khar while we walked, and he told me about the secret routes he'd take while walking home.

we had walked a good way, when we realized nickolai and shruti had reached the road below the building we were walking through, and we got back down on it. they had met dannika, and were about to cross a busy street, which looked like a highway.

nickolai ran across, dodging cars and other vehicles, but we didn't follow, as we were too scared. nickolai called us from across the road and told us it's safe to cross - it was actually a red light and the vehicles were moving illegally and had to stop for us. we ran, one behind the other, kevin, followed by dannika, myself, and finally shruti.

across the road, there were a line of stalls, selling tea and fruit juices. beyond the stalls, there was a high railing, and on the other side of the railing were the railway tracks. we were somewhere near kandivali. nickolai told us she had planned a surprise, but first, she had something to give us. she opened a bag of sugar coated chocolate "gems", all red in colour, and told us we could have as many as we like. we took about a fistful each. there were still some left over though, and nickolai encouraged us to have more, as they would get spoiled if not eaten soon enough. i told her i can take some home for my parents, but she said i couldn't - these were "special" gems, and were strictly to be given by her, and not to be passed on to others :P

that done, it was time for the surprise: nickolai pointed to 4 glasses on the roof of the shed on my left. they had straws in them, and had a pale amber liquid.

i told her it's impossible to get up there, and maybe there's been some sort of mistake? but nickolai persisted, and kevin looked around and pointed out that the roof was actually a sloping wooden sheet with planks nailed to it, like a rough ladder. he climbed up, and had a sip from his glass. he said it tasted like fruit beer, and the view was amazing - he was lying flat on his stomach on the sloping roof while sipping on his fruit beer. the rest of us were trying to figure how to get there ourselves.

and that's when i woke up.

moving out sale

I have stuff to sell! Any takers in Mumbai? Comment if interested.

Wall mounted metal dish rack (1 year old)

Price: 500
Wall mounted dish rack. 18" width x 18" height x 10.5" depth dish rack made of steel and plated. contains a top shelf, 5 partitions for big plates, 5 partitions for small plates, 1 large flat shelf and 1 smaller flat shelf, 6 hooks for mugs, 5 loops for cutlery.

1 year old, 5 shelves steel storage rack 72" x 36" x 15"

Price: 3000
1 year old, 5 shelves steel storage rack 72" x 36" x 15". Powder coated in grey colour (light grey shelves, dark grey frame). Extremely sturdy, industrial grade, and can take 100kg of load. can be used for storing items in shops/warehouses/kitchen. Can be dismantled and reassembled with minimal tools. fully adjustable shelf height makes it suitable for uses where different items are of different heights. Possible to get a dust cover made for the unit. Can give a wall mounted dish rack for free if desired.

Washbasin mirror cabinet with plenty of storage and magnetic lock.

Price: 1500

Washbasin mirror cabinet with plenty of storage and magnetic lock. Dimensions 22" height x 14" width x 6" depth

the game changer

I decided to cycle to the supermarket for my groceries today, instead of taking out the motorcycle. the weather seems to have improved a bit, and there wasn't much traffic. at a traffic light, a waiting rickshaw driver decided to relieve his mouth of its contents and spew paan on the sidewalk. disgusting.

this time though, I wasn't the only disgusted person around. a motorcyclist and another cyclist joined me in giving the rickshaw driver disgusted stares. he eventually noticed, but he somehow seemed to have a problem understanding exactly what we were disgusted about. he literally asked the motorcyclist "what happened? what did I do?"

the traffic resumed moving before I could hear the rest of the exchange, but it got me thinking: wouldn't the world be a much better place if people were more aware of the consequences of their actions?

as I watched a swarm of vehicles (almost comically) jump the signal *after* an ambulance, it reinforced my thoughts. if information was more widely available and supplied more easily, we probably could have far fewer social problems. and once there is a critical mass of informed people, the rest would be forced to keep up, or look stupid. and I parked my bicycle, lost in thought: how many things could be improved with proper information? would people be lining up to buy sugary cola, or cheap snacks fried in hydrogenated vegetable oil, or food loaded with sodium and msg? would they be taking the stairs instead of the escalators?

as I unlocked my bicycle and wore my still sweaty helmet, I noticed that the SUV that was parked next to it still had the windows up and engine idling from an hour ago, with the driver napping in his seat. I felt rather silly, trying to save the atmosphere from an ounce of burned petrol which the car probably guzzled many times over while I did my purchases.

and that's when it hit me: knowledge and information are not the game changers I seek. what we need is more people who think. people who think about the bigger picture, of cause and effect. after all, information is already out there for those who seek it. it may not be well presented, and may sometimes be hidden in clear sight and otherwise buried behind commercial interests, but it's still there. it's there only for people who care.

we live in a world filled with oblivious people, people who discard information if it doesn't help them achieve their immediate goals, and sometimes even if it does. and the only way to change that is to encourage critical thought.

and that's the game changer.

so the question is, how do we get people to think?

I rode home, lost in thought again, while a helmetless biker who was riding on the wrong side of a clear road sneered at me for cycling with a helmet.

I'm still nowhere near the answer.

but the answer, I'm assured, will change the course of the human race.

survival

mumbai's having epic rain. it's been pouring for the last 48 hours or so, and the commute home was hellish for most people. i took a calculated risk and decided to ride home, and luckily for me, it paid off. there were a few things i did to mitigate the risk before i set off:

• double checked the fuel level of my bike. i had at least 60 km worth of fuel for the 13 km ride home.
• charged my phone fully, made sure the power bank i carry with me also had a fair bit of charge
• carried a small water bottle of water
• had a quick snack before i left off
• wrapped and double wrapped everything valuable + electronic in a waterproof pouch inside my bag, which is supposed to be water resistant to begin with
• called home before leaving
• kept some spare change on hand outside the bag, for emergencies
• weighed my options for the route to take home. chose to stick to broad roads, which i know are not low-lying, even though they would probably have more traffic than the alternatives

luckily for me, it worked out better than expected. i reached home in barely 45 minutes more than my usual time, despite a chai break on the way when the worst of the traffic was past me. most of my office colleagues weren't as lucky though - some of them took twice as long, mainly due to them traveling by car.

once i got home, i dried off and was treated to a mug of hot chocolate, courtesy the wife.

while i settled in and started thinking about dinner, my wife asked me if my phone was fully charged - a message she recieved reminded people that the electric supply might fail if there is too much flooding - and some low lying parts near home were already over a foot deep in water when i was getting home.

that's when i remembered an old thought, regarding survival (it was another rainy day, and I was traveling home by office bus, with a snack and some water to save myself). not sure if i blogged it back then (i can't find the post now - but i guess i didn't search much).

so anyway, i started thinking about what i'd have to do if the rain continued, and shruti and i were stuck at home under various circumstances.

we have the basics covered: about 800 litres of water in the overhead tank, which should last us comfortably for a week if we had to stretch it. plenty of batteries for our torches. and one puny hand crank torch, for an absolute last resort. about 3 days of ready-to-eat stuff. enough food supplies to last us two weeks, i'd say. but that's where i figured the problem lies: we have a piped gas supply, which runs underground. which means that if the gas AND electricity supply is lost, we'd have no way to cook.

now i do have my bike downstairs, and it does have a fair bit of fuel that i could get my hands on quite easily. but i have no safe way to burn it.

the only things i guess i could use to cook would be the 3 litres of cooking oil we have in store. and i don't have an efficient way to burn the oil. i guess i could make a makeshift stove out of utensils, but it's something i've never done before, and i'm not sure if i'd get it right.

also, i'm under prepared from a communication point of view, as i only have enough juice in the powerbank to keep my phone going for a couple of days. i could switch to a backup phone that has longer battery life, but i'd lose access to the internet. i'm guessing our adsl connection and wired phone would pop before (or maybe about the same time as) the electric supply does. but i guess we'd survive being holed up indoors, quite literally between these 4 walls, for about a week.

oh, and we have books. i wonder if there's anything else we'd need. hmmmm.

avenging: the avenger

(forgotten in my drafts from mid December - better late than never!)

my bike's been giving trouble lately. she's spent the better part of the month parked at the garage, getting the equivalent of a heart transplant: new crankshaft, connecting rods, bushings, piston, block, timing chain, tensioner, clutch plates, and all variety of minor paraphernalia. so, while I waited it out patiently for fate and my mechanic to give me some relief, I've been living off public transport and the generosity of my friends who have lent me their rides whenever they could.

the last few days were with ajith's avenger. his was the bike I was the most excited about borrowing, as it was one of the options i considered long ago (when I was looking for the next bike after my pulsar, before I decided on the karizma). back then, I rejected it as I was sick of bajaj's quirks: some touches of bad design, and a reputation for bad longevity of the engine.

after a pretty successful run with the karizma, I've been thinking about my next bike. and i decided to approach the avenger with an open mind: it's been 4 years, and bajaj has done intresting things with the pulsar platform, so i figured getting my legs around it should give me the feel of things.

before I mounted it, I was nervous. after all, I had to ride it from powai to bandra in the peak of rush hour traffic, and i had an impatient lady waiting for me at the end of it. and yes, she was already done with her stuff and was killing time until I arrived. my main concern was the position of the foot pegs... would I be able to handle switching to feet on the ground from feet on the pedals quickly enough?

once on the road though, I was quite reassured. it was possible to get my shoe caught on the gear lever or get my ankle on the silencer when switching, but with enough care it wasn't a problem.

the riding position had its pros and cons: it seemed more relaxed, and having mirrors and other cars' headlights at eye level meant that I had a good all round view. the low seat made me almost feel like I was in a go-kart, and that made me feel like I was going a lot faster than I was. the engine was nice and smooth. the gears were so unlike the karizma that it almost felt like my foot was doing its job by itself and I was riding an automatic! the gear lever was too long though, so I ended up using it as a toe shifter only. old habits die hard, I guess. I reached my destination comfortably and without incident, and on the way home, my lady was also happy to ride pillion.

the next morning, riding to work without much traffic, I had a chance to explore the handling better. and that's when I was truly worried. the bike brakes scarily. it skids on light braking on tar roads in a straight line... at 60. on curves, anything less than a perfect surface is scary at best. that would have been a deal breaker, but I got a second opinion from a die hard avenger fan, who said the same thing: the avenger brakes and handles terribly. his "technique" was to ride slowly and use engine braking. lol.

anyway, I still had a couple of days more to go, and one important errand: transporting a rather heavy bit of luggage across town. the avenger handled that perfectly, with my fully loaded rynox (64L) saddle bags, a packed 90L backpack, and a pillion. the seat is roomy, so it doesn't feel cramped even with the huge backpack and the pillion. full points there. but I realized during the 3 hour ride that the seating position actually puts your weight on a weird part of your butt. I didn't have any aches at the end, but it did get rather uncomfortable.

so, in short: comfort, uncheck. safely, uncheck. ergonomics, check. load carrying capabilities, check.

my next bike? uncheck.

suicidal bikers

I pity the plight of drivers of 4-and-more vehicles in India. being a biker myself, I'm constantly thinking about what the drivers around me see and sense before attempting a maneuvere. small things like flashing my headlight when I'm behind a car while I move to whichever side I'm overtaking from, and anticipating if they intend to give way based on the way they brake (it's not that difficult, the human mind is quite amazing in its ability to judge velocity and acceleration!), treating drivers on the phone with extra caution to and checking their blind spots instead of assuming I can always be seen.

yesterday, I had to ride pillion with someone for a fair distance (12 km). at first I was simply unnerved by his refusal to signal turns and his tendency to not brake early when an opportunity to overtake is closed... and i was gonna politely give him a bit of advice.

but eventually I realized the problem ran deeper: he simply wasn't thinking about the other drivers and vehicles on the road. about the fact that the average rickshaw brakes can't be trusted enough for you to to cut in between and halve its braking distance without warning, or that a car driver taking a turn can't see you in the rear view while turning, so if you weren't visible before he started turning, he'd have to emergency brake when you cut in halfway through the turn. or that if a bus does an emergency brake, there's some sort of obstacle in front of it that you better not make any assumptions about.

the sort of things you can't politely advise someone to start doing.

seriously, I wonder what was occupying the part of his mind which a safe rider would use to analyze the road.

how do you politely advise someone to ride defensively?

rickshaw wala

I took a break in the middle of an awesome ride around bbay late at night (thane to borivali via ghodbunder road, about 130 am, to be specific)

my phone has been giving trouble (it only charges when switched off), so i was just standing near my bike and having my chai (more like waiting for it to cool to a drinkable temperature, actually), and observing the people there.

there was a random assortment of people at the chaiwalla, quite appropriate for that hour: all guys, some in cars, some standing with their bikes, chit-chatting, some smoking, others having tea, and one group having cheap "chinese" food in plastic plates and bowls at the only table at the stall.

while i was there, a rickshaw pulled up and a driver got out. he didn't buy anything though. he just stood and leaned against his rickshaw, visibly drunk. after some time, he walked up to me and pointed at my bike's rear turning lights, and asked me if I had them custom made. i wasn't particularly interested in talking to him, but it'd be rude to not answer, so i told him that yes, I actually had them custom made. he asked me if it was just for show. I told him that no, it was so that I could fix my bags on my bike without them getting in the way.

he was curious about why someone would need to have bags there, so i described my saddle bags and told him I use them for long bike rides.

he asked me how far I had ridden. i told him I have done bike trips up to 4000 km, and i was expecting to do an even longer one in a few days. unlike most people who usually react with surprise, he took this in rather matter-of-factly and wanted to know more. he asked me where I had ridden to, whether I ride in the day or night, and even what makes me decide to ride at night.

he noticed my patched-up mudguard and asked me if it was an accident. i told him it was potholes in aarey road.

the conversation seemed pretty normal until now, when the topic changed and he started talking about his day. he said that he didn't know that there's a different permit for drivers in Mumbai and Thane, and he found out the hard way today, after 9 months, when he was stopped by cops. he also doesn't have a license, just a photocopy - the original was confiscated months ago and he didn't bother collecting it as he didn't want to pay the fine. he also didn't know when the registration and insurance papers disappeared from his rickshaw. apparently when he had taken a few days off, the substitute driver had stolen the papers. so when he was stopped today he didn't have a license, permit, or papers. he said he was lucky, the cop was sympathetic. he had 250 rs with him, so the cop pocketed 150 and left him with 100 rs for fuel.

he said he was lucky, if it wasn't just a lone cop at the checkpost, he'd definitely be jailed and his rickshaw impounded.

i told him that drinking and driving was even worse.

that got him started.

he told me, he does only one trip every day. there are ladies who live in malad that he has to ferry to work in nalasopara, and back home. he has to pick them up at 9:30 pm, and he reaches them at a bar at nalasopara at precisely 10:10pm. never later than 10:15pm. and he reaches them back when the bar shuts in the wee hours of the morning. they pay for his food and drinks while he waits for them: he said that he had a plate of chicken lollipops and a quarter of whisky today.

I didn't want to ask him questions, wondering if he was some sort of pimp or something. he continued his story anyway: they pay him 800 bucks a day, flat. they don't always pay him daily, but by the end of the week the makes sure he gets his 800 for each day. they never go with anyone else, and he doesn't bother with any other rides even though he very well could.

he said that life is good. he has a family, has a place to live (he even told me where, somewhere in bhayendar), and he has his day to himself. he even has time to have a drink or two before setting off for work in the evening. and he gets 800 bucks a day, every single day. he even asked me to calculate how much that adds up to.

he said there are 3 ladies, and their job is to serve drinks and deal cards at the bar. he said that sometimes these ladies wear little more than just underwear. he told me I should come to the bar sometime, to eat and drink with him, and he'll tell me stories.

as i finished my now cold cup of chai, and wore my bag to get ready to ride off, he told me his brother had once brought a bike, but he had an accident not far from where we were, and broke his leg. after that he decided that he will never try riding a bike.

as i rode off, he told me we should meet again. I wonder if we will.

road rage

today, while riding to my bus pick up point, I happened to be stuck at a traffic signal because of a bus that blocked the free left lane, when it was waiting for the light to go straight ahead.

I was early, so i didn't quite care. there was a rickshaw beside me though, and he was clearly infuriated (wonder if he was late or simply being obnoxious). in between his continuous honking, i gave one pip of my horn so that the bus driver knew there was more than one vehicle he was blocking.

the rickshaw was packed with kids - at least 12 if not more of them squeezed into that tiny space. they looked like they were on their way to kindergarten.

when i honked (it really was just a polite pip, i hate honking) one kid who was looking at me said "uncle, uda do usko" ("uncle, knock him off") while pointing at the bus.

I laughed and asked him "kyon"? but the bus moved ahead at that point and the rickshaw and i got through the junction before he could answer. but I'm still thinking about that kid. what has he been learning by example about road etiquette? scary.

just a minute

my commute usually runs like clockwork. there's a plan a, plan b and plan c, each with tweaks defined for each situation. i wasn't prepared for today though.

I left from home one minute late, expecting to follow plan a: bike to borivali station (west) and take the office bus. however, a traffic snarl on the way caused me to miss the bus. since I realized too late that i wasn't gonna make it, i was unable to follow plan b (the other office bus) - that requires me to take an alternative route, and park in a different spot. i decided to take plan c: the AC bus.

when i reached the AC stop, there was a huge line, and the bus was packed. i decided to wait in queue for the next bus, as I didn't fancy standing for over an hour (i still haven't worked out where the non AC buses start from, that would be a viable plan d). the next bus arrived a few minutes later. I got a seat. brought my ticket, settled in with my headphones,  when suddenly everyone started alighting the bus. i waited a few moments before I realized they were all boarding the next bus, and the driver himself wasn't in this bus either.

I followed the herd into the rapidly filling next bus, sorely cursing my decision to not look for the non AC bus stop when i had first arrived here today. I got the last available seat, thankfully. and then people started getting back out and into the first bus!

apparently the bus was giving trouble but the driver "fixed" it, and it will now be leaving after all. the bus was now full, and there was no chance of a seat. i complained to the conductor that I left the previous bus because I wanted to sit, and thanks to this confusion, i have lost my seat in this bus as well. i asked for a refund of my ticket, but he refused.

a couple of other people joined in the chorus asking for a refund, but the conductor was adamant. i resigned myself to my apparent fate, and moved away from the argument. the bus started moving, and others suggested that we swap our tickets with people who haven't purchased theirs yet. I started asking around, but before I could find someone to swap with, the conductor relented and exchanged my ticket for a refund. the bus dropped the three of us at the next stop, and the couple disappeared before I could ask them how they were planning to travel.

luckily for me, the next stop was adjacent to the non-ac bus stop. and luckily, non AC buses run emptier than ac at that time. and a bus arrived in the next minute.

i got my seat.

i'm on my way to office.

that one minute and a few bad decisions cost me about an hour and a half.

public transport karma

today, I missed my office bus by a minute, and had to take a drop to jvlr instead. chased a bus that said bandra. missed it by literally 10 seconds, and gave up chasing it because I was flat out of breath. thought I'd just take the next bus headed that way, as I didn't fancy my chances of another bandra bus anytime soon.

and then three buses to borivali passed by. on the day I wasn't headed home.

the very next bus was headed to bandra. got in and got a seat immediately (at 6pm, rush hour!). was relieved to find that it was headed to bandra West and not East. after about half an hour, i looked up from my book to see the bus was on sv road. and just when I was gonna get off and walk from santacruz sv road to linking road, the bus took a turn and headed right where I was going to walk to.

today's the day my public transport karma finally evened itself out.

spite

I'd like to believe the average human is not spiteful without reason, but I then can't explain why a BEST bus driver would squeeze me and my bike against the divider on a road with plenty of room, if he didn't want to badly injure, or maybe kill me.

I can't even blame it on him not seeing me, as I flashed my headlight repeatedly for atleast 5 seconds before attempting to overtake (bus drivers do have a reputation, after all), and he waited till i was more than halfway past the bus before edging rightwards. when i realized he wasn't going to let up, I honked, a long blast that you'd probably never hear from my bike under normal circumstances. he continued to squeeze, until I had less than an inch between me and the bus, and about the same distance between my wheels and the divider. i'm sure he heard my tires screech too, as I did a hard stop to avoid what looked like a nasty scrape or worse, maybe even involving the bus' rear wheel.

i survived that one, physically unhurt. but i can't say the same for my trust in the general goodness of humanity.