A Trek to Remember

Some of my friends who are regulars for the morning 6.30 batch in our swimming pool decided to test their capabilities on land and planned a trekking trip.
“We are trekking to Dudhsagar water falls from Kulem railway station doctor. It is twelve kilometers. Coming?”
I accepted the invitation and a few eyebrows shot up. “Twelve kilometers ONE WAY doctor. Nearly twenty five kilometers up and down. It is like walking from your house in Ponda to Margao railway station.” Some of the members who feared that they may have to carry me most of the distance tried to make me see sense. They calculated the full distance for my benefit and also gave a comparison so that I fully understood what I was getting into. I am the oldest member in our batch and they had probably asked me to join them, out of courtesy. My acceptance might have put them in a quandary.

If my performance in the swimming pool was any indication, they had reason to worry. In the recently concluded swimming competitions, the time I took to swim fifty meters was ninety seconds ( I was last, obviously) while the second last was thirty five seconds. If I performed equally well during the trek, they will need to carry camping gear and prepare for a three day trek. But being sportsmen, they did not express their feelings, encouraged me saying that I will surely make it and said that they would pick me up at quarter to six from my house.

The plan was to drive to Kulem railway station, a distance of little more than thirty kilometers from Ponda and then trek to the falls. It involved walking on/along the railway track for about four kilometers and the remaining on a mud path. We had planned to leave Ponda at six in the morning, stop briefly at Kulem for breakfast and begin our trek by seven and to the credit of everyone in the group we were on the railway track by twenty past seven on 26th January.



Walking on the railway track, which apparently had been built with only trains in mind, was not easy but we managed the four kilometers without tripping and falling or twisting and dislocating ankles and were happy to see the mud path running parallel to the track. With relief we descended on to the path but it did not take us long to realize that we were better off on the railway track. This mud path was a cross between a path and a crude road. Some small boulders and assorted stones had been strewn on the path in the hope of calling it a ‘motorable’ road but in the process making it unfit both for legs and wheels.



But we had decided to walk to the falls and walk we did ignoring the continuous flow of jeeps carrying tourists to the falls, bringing up clouds of dust and pushing us off the ‘road’ every second minute. It took three hours to cover twelve kilometers and we were at the falls by half past ten.



At the falls we met some of the tourists who had been clever enough to hire the jeeps and were regretting our decision to walk, when a lady hailed us.
“Are you the group whom we saw walking on the way?”
“Yes”
“How smart! I wish I had come walking too. This horrible ride has separated all my joints. I am dreading the return trip”.

After the experience of walking twelve kilometers we were dreading the return trip too but at that moment we had decided not to think about the return trip and make the best of the falls. At the base of the falls is a natural pool almost the dimension of a swimming pool, surrounded by rocks and the water is cold, fresh and inviting.



We dived into the ice cold water, hurt our legs on the submerged boulders while trying to swim, slipped on the rocks when we tried to stand, got muscle cramps because of the cold and managed to swim to safety after enjoying the falls and bruising our limbs as much as we could. We ate the lunch that we had carried and headed back with a lighter load on the shoulders- food consumed, but a heavier load on the mind - the return walk.

We decided not to walk the full distance at a stretch but to divide the distance into parts to gain some psychological advantage. To start with we only had to reach the temple which we had seen on the way quite close to the falls, then the stream only half an hour’s distance from the temple, then the lonely house, then the big tree with monkeys and from there the railway track was just another kilometer! But the legs were not prepared to listen to the lesson in psychology and protested every step. We managed to ignore the legs and kept ourselves busy chatting, singing and making fun of one another. It felt as though we had been walking for two days but actually in about two hours we had the railway track in sight again. Once we were on the track we told ourselves that since we had successfully covered twenty kilometers, the remaining four, that is less than a quarter of the whole distance was no big deal and in another hour we had the railway station in sight.

I have passed through Kulem station on every trip from Bangalore to Goa and have always felt happy on reaching there as it meant the journey’s end but I had never been as happy to see Kulem station as I was on 26th January 2012. We had a brief halt in the local tea shop which served the best tasting Bisleri water and even tastier ‘Limbu’ soda and then we got into the most comfortable ‘Swift’ and ‘Innova’ ever built, for our return trip. We were in Ponda by five in the evening after a ‘trek to remember’ as my friends put it.



I was under the impression that the old bones may not make it. But the old bones managed to take me to the falls and bring me back too. Only the old muscles and ligaments connecting them were complaining. I pacified them with some Brufen and Crocin and was even able to put them to work the next day to earn my living and prevent the old stomach from growling.

Give Us This Day Our Daily Booze

Saw this article by Mr Derek Almeida, in the 'Panorama' section of Navhind Times today. Very nice logic. Liked it very much. You may like it too.



Give us this day our daily booze
Published on: January 22, 2012 - 12:01


The frequent raids by the Election Commission on shops, restaurants and politicians houses to unearth liquor has taken the kick out of the polls and turned them into a tame academic affair. What’s an election without the booze? It’s like a football match without the ball.
Somebody has to protest and being a blue-blooded Goan, domicile certificate and all, I decided to write these Delhiwallas a letter to remind them how ‘ajeeb’ we are
By Derek Almeida

Dear amigo (CEC),
Your decision to raid liquor stores and politicians’ houses has left me in a quandary. I get the drift of your whole campaign. Your aim is to prevent candidates from bribing us with booze.

Nice logic. It might work in New Delhi, but down here it is quite difficult to go and vote when sober. Have you seen the choice of candidates in Goa? No one in their sober minds would vote for any of them. But after two shots of feni, trust me, we see things more clearly, even though we sometimes cannot find our election cards.

I am worried about mining, even though I am not affected by the dust and the traffic jams. So, the other day, I went to meet an MLA to question him on the issue of illegal mining and what he intended doing about it. When I threw my question at him he said, "Forget about it. There is no illegal mining."
He was either telling the truth or lying. I couldn’t tell. So I went home and poured myself a stiff ‘feni’. After three such drinks I too forgot about illegal mining and got totally immersed in my quest to find the toilet. Now do you understand why staying drunk is a way of life here?

You must have heard about the regional plan. I am concerned about that too. I am concerned about a lot of things, like turtles, the Siberian crane and the jackfruit, which by the way is disappearing from the Goan table. Forgive me for digressing, but dining tables have become so small that it is difficult to place a jackfruit without displacing the curry bowl.

Coming back to the regional plan, I had a strong argument with the minister at the secretariat on the issue. I objected to everything, from the quality of the paper on which the map was printed to the sudden disappearance of the local chapel. My house was missing too, and so was the hill. I would have given the chap a hammering, but for the fact that I was sober and a prompt reminder from my wife that I was referring to the wrong map. So you see how bad things can get when we are sober?

I immediately adjourned the meeting, found a local bar and had a shot of feni, by which time the MLA had vanished along with the map and I went home and had a good siesta. You should try the siesta sometimes. It does wonders for the liver.
That regional plan encounter was a long time ago. Then on Christmas Day you chaps announced elections, which you do without fail every five years. I don’t know how you do this, but I suspect you have an alarm in your head that goes off every five years.

Anyway, the announcement brought my MLA back to my doorstep. It’s this door-to-door thing that candidates undertake every five years. I was on my second drink when the door bell rang. I opened the door, glass in hand.
"Who are you and why are you swaying so madly?" I asked.
"Honey," my wife said, "he is not swaying, but you are."
I could swear by the Archbishop’s cassock that I was not swaying and would have produced a gyroscope to prove it, but liquor has a way of diminishing all protests.
"Have we met on Facebook?" I lisped.
"Honey, he is the MLA," my wife said.
Anyway, I kept staring at him as he launched into a monologue which was interspersed with a list of things he had accomplished in the last five years. He was doing this at top speed because he had other houses to visit. Only after I had downed the entire glass of feni was I able to stay abreast with his speech.
So you see how difficult it is to keep up with our politicians? The only way of living with them is by staying perpetually drunk. That being the case, who should pay for the drinks?

Here’s a suggestion. Since you fellows always talk about state funding for elections how about putting some aside for the booze? Democracy after all, comes with a price tag. And while you are pondering this could you keep the raids on hold?

From a Goan who mixes drinks with politics

One Stray Thought

I have stopped walking, I mean walking for exercise, after I found that my knees are not what they used to be. I started swimming and after two years am realizing that my shoulders are not much better either. I do not know what to take up next.

Meanwhile, my wife, whose hands and legs are intact - she preserved them and only used her tongue for exercise all these years - has started walking after the doctors advised her to rest her tongue and use her extremities for exercise. The slopes of the hillocks near our house are being converted into residential plots and my wife uses the newly laid roads for her walk. (The roads are still there after a year and I recommend the contractor if you have any road work to be done). Some evenings when I am free, I join her and after reaching the spot, sit there on any convenient boulder observing others who come there, till my wife completes her rounds.

I went there this evening and was on my seat observing a boy and girl pair who seemed to be walking on clouds - not on roads and was repenting for never having attempted a walk on the clouds myself, when this young couple with the apple of their eye, the toddler, caught my attention. I can’t guess the child’s age. He must have just started to talk and walk. My children past that age long back and I do not remember at what age children start talking and walking. (My wife remembers these things very well and she guessed the child’s age to be a year and a half).

Anyway, this toddler was happy to tumble along with his unsteady steps, barefoot, and was going on merrily when his mother called out asking him to stop. He stopped and looked at her enquiringly as to what was wrong when she lifted him up and continued to walk carrying him. He started to squirm and tried to wiggle out. He wanted to walk. As soon as she put him down he gave a winner’s smile and started running. She ran behind him caught him and lifted him up once again and the child shouted “no, no, no” and having found no release, started crying his head off. She had no option but to put him down. As he started running once again she turned to her husband and pleaded plaintively “Do something and stop him. His legs are aching”.

The child was happy when he was on his legs. He was crying when lifted to be carried. But the mother was feeling the pain in his legs! It was very amusing.

I remember having read this definition of a sweater somewhere.

Sweater : ‘A garment which children have to wear when their parents feel cold’.

Whoever coined that must have observed a lot of parents.

Christmas time.

Ganesha chathurti is supposed to be the most prominent festival in Goa. Diwali with its ‘Aakaash kandils’, ‘Diyas’ and ‘Lakshmi pooja’ in business establishments, makes its presence felt. But nothing like Christmas to fill the air with festival atmosphere. Went out for a stroll in the evening to get the Christmas feel and brought back a bit through these pictures.

My neighbour Mendonca's apartment



Ponda church



'Nativity' scene created by the local catholic youth.



Merry Christmas and a happy new year.

Samrat vs Sunburn

Samrat Sangeet Sammelan
16. 12. 2011 to 18. 12. 2011
Location : Aguiar Grounds, Tisk, Ponda , Goa.
Three sessions of classical music every day.
Vidwan Hari Kumar - Violin
Pandit Yogiraj naik - Sitar
Pandit Vijay karapurkar - Vocal
Ustaad Arshad li khan - Vocal, so on and so forth.
Entry to sammelan - Free
Arrangements - to seat five hundred
If you feel hungry - Batatawada and tea available on payment.
Average attendance noticed per session - one hundred.

Sunburn Music festival
27.12.2011 to 29.12.2011
Location : Candolim beach, Goa
Never ending session of senseless music and mindless dancing starting 9 Pm daily.
DJs - Ma faiza, Funk agenda, Jalebi cartel, Pearl , so on and so forth.
Entry to festival - Rupees Seven thousand + taxes. (Up to twenty thousands in black market.)
VVIP table - 3,43,850 (six people, three days)
Arrangements - to accommodate twenty five thousand.
To quench your never ending thirst - whisky, vodka, Wine and champagne (two bottles each- free for VVIP table)
Average attendance last year - per session- fifty thousand
Expected this year - eighty thousand.

Just an observation. I am not trying to say anything. Infact, I do not know what to say. Can you?

Pondadalli Manju - Fog In Ponda

This year winter just peeped in for a few days during mid November and disappeared giving way to a very humid and cloudy weather which lasted nearly two weeks. Since the last three days there were some signs of winter returning to Goa and I eagerly awaited its return. I feel happy and relieved when the seasons arrive on time. The way we are abusing the nature, I am always worried that the natural elements may one day decide to teach us a lesson and totally desert us.

There was some fog yesterday and I saw dew drops on the leaves in the morning. The weather was not very cool but not hot either. There was some hope. Today when I opened the door early in the morning, there was dense fog and the outside felt so good that I just could not stay indoors to carry on with my exercises. As soon as it was light enough, I stepped out with the camera in hand. I was not sure that this weather would be there the next day and wanted to make the best of it when it lasted.

As I turned round the corner, I saw my neighbour’s house, which I see dozens of times every day (wishing he had painted it something more pleasant than bright yellow) looking cooler and better, its brightness subdued by the fog in spite of being in the direct focus of the bright street light.



I headed for the hill side on the out skirts expecting the usually pleasant surroundings to be even better and I was not disappointed. I walked along enjoying the tingling feel of the fog on my face and taking in the new look of the old sights stopping now and then to appreciate nature’s magic. Bushes and trees which I see day in and day out appeared to have changed themselves for the better and clouds seemed to have come down to rest on the tree tops.





If this was the feeling, I wondered, the presence of a little fog on the drab country side of Ponda brought about in a person like me, what could have been the effect of the sight of real dense fog over the bountiful nature around Madikeri on a poet like Sri Rajaratnam? No wonder Sri Rajaratnam’s poetic heart came out with ‘Madikerili Manju’ on beholding the sight of clouds hugging the earth in Madikeri. Please, have no fear. I have no intentions of trying to imitate the great man and composing ‘Pondadalli manju’ for my next post.

Sri Rajaratnam is one of my favourites and his ‘Madikerili manju’, beautifully sung by Sri. Mysore Anantaswamy is always at the tip of my tongue. Remind me about it if and when you meet me next and I can sing it for you on the spot making you wish that Sri Rajaratnam had never visited Madikeri.

I continued my walk looking here and there and caught the sight of the usually invisible spider webs decorated with minute dew drops. Poor spider, it cannot come out and enjoy the sight. But I could and I even got some pictures. The spider remained immobile at the center of its web, hungry and waiting for its pray unmindful of the excitement it had created in me. A ‘Sthitapragnya’. I mean the spider. Not me.







I walked around the place, incidentally a hill side which is being cut and converted into housing plots and was turning back after my knees made their presence felt when I caught sight of this migratory egrets which visit Goa every year. I do not know where they come from or where they are going. I only know that they like to land here for some time during mornings and evenings to rest on the trees and search for some insects on the ground. I am glad that they visit us every year but feel sorry that they will have to rest on Syntex tanks on rooftops and search for insects in the garbage bins if they decide to land here in the coming years.My camera managed to get few pictures in which one can recognize the birds and as I moved a bit closer for a better frame, one of them took wing and the next second all of them were gone.








The fog was clearing and the sun was coming up making the weather hot and taking off the magic of the fog. I could see everything clearly in the harsh sunlight and I realized that I was in the same old dirty world that we have created and not in some piece of paradise as it momentarily appeared to be and I returned home feeling like the lame boy in Bommanahalliya kindarijogi who had a glimpse of the paradise inside the mountain but had to return because the cave doors closed before he entered.



Note: Madikerili manju , meaning fog in Madikeri, is one of the poems in the collection ‘Ratnana Padagalu’ by Sri G P Rajaratnam. Sri Rajaratnam is said to have composed the poem inspired by the sight of thick fog in Madikeri, Coorg, Karnataka. It has been put into music and sung beautifully by Sri Mysore Anantaswamy.

Bommanahalliya Kindarijogi is a classic poetic work by Sri K V Puttappa. He is said to have been inspired by Browming’s ‘Pied Piper of Hamlin’ and written this poem.

Corruption wins

Sri Sriramulu won the ‘Bellary rural’ assembly seat with a very wide margin. I felt very sad. I have nothing personal against Sriramulu. I feel sad because his win is the thumbs up sign for everything that is wrong with us today. Thumbs up for political and social degradation. He is a close associate of Reddy brothers. He has been indicted in mining scandals. It took a lot of effort for BJP to make a show that it is against corruption and push Sriramulu out of cabinet. But the society has hoisted him up on its shoulders. A slap in the face for people trying to cleanse the system.

This shows that in the fight between money and morals, money wins. In Bellary if Reddy brothers made thousands of crores by illegal activities, there were lakhs of other people who made between them hundreds of crores, tens of crores, crores, lakhs, thousands and hundreds etc etc depending up on their position and capabilities. All by the same illegal activities. And these lakhs of people are the voters. Unfortunately, for majority of these voters the illegal activities are the livelihood. They had to decide between anti corruption and empty stomach or pro corruption and full stomach. They decided for a full stomach.

Very unfortunate but that is how it is.