D is for Dead Sea

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Have you ever been in waters that are impossible to drown in?

Well, I have been into one –  the Dead Sea!

Technically the Dead Sea is a saltwater lake located between the borders of Jordan, the West Bank and Israel. The surface of this lake is way below sea level making it one waterbody – that is at the lowest elevation of the Earth! Also, it is the world’s deepest and saltiest lake. Because of the high salt content in this waterbody, it is impossible for aquatic life to thrive and hence it’s termed as the Dead Sea!

It is impossible to drown in its deep waters because it just doesn’t allow anything to stand ground let alone sink in! Technically, the high salt concentration makes this salty water denser than a human body and that is why once you step into these waters you automatically float!

Me being an aquaphobic but always stubbornly bold (see post) always wanted to float on sea! Tried and tried to go afloat several times but couldn’t manage to calm those nerves and thus failed to master the floating technique that even non-swimmers do. And so when I happened to visit the Dead Sea I was overjoyed to finally be floating in deep waters!

I visited the Dead Sea while on a pilgrimage tour to the Holy Lands in mid October 2022. It was an amazing site where tourists from all over the world were present – most of them covered with dark grey clay mud and marinating, while some coolly floating in these waters.

Our itinerary had about an hour to spend at the beach spot of the Dead Sea and so we hurried to change into swimwear water wear and headed to this beach called the Kalia beach.

Our guides informed us to remove any jewellery and metal ornaments – expect 24 carat gold, before stepping into the waters since the salt would react with the metal and would instantly tarnish or corrode it. And only pure gold would survive and not react. “This is a good opportunity to test the chain that I bought from the famous Mahek Chowk”, I thought to myself. I was fascinated with this market place and the Gujarati vendors that I bought this dainty looking my-kinda styled neck chain in the wink of an eye and later started doubting whether it was indeed pure gold or not! So yes this was a good chance to finally accept that I was not cheated. And truly it turned out the be real gold and not any mix of yellow metals.

Coming back to the Dead Sea, I as always having slight fear of waters, hesitated to set in the deep waters of the lake and remained on shore playing along with the soft but somewhat gross clay mud. I was hesitant to get the mud on my skin and body too thinking that the salt would tarnish my sensitive skin. Yes, sadly I have sensitive skin which reacts at the touch of an ant!

But seeing my fellow travelers turned friends already applying generous amounts of that mud on their bodies and face I also thought I should do the same with the fear of being missed out! At the back of my mind I had this thought that my body will definitely itch and remain sticky all through the journey until we reach our hotel rooms. After all my home state being on the coastline of the Arabian Sea has umpteen beaches which have always left me with the sticky-salty feel!

So feeling the excitement of the others, I applied some clay on my hands, legs and neck and stepped into the lake slowly. And as I took steps deep and further into the lake, I realized I just could stand on the sand/ mud bed. It was like this invisible force underneath my feet pushing me upwards and not allowing me to step foot. I tried with all my force to stand firm, but alas it plonked me down and set me afloat!

Slightly panicky, I stepped away from my friends and other tour companions who were floating happily and calmly and I came towards the shore, pretending to apply some mud on my face and hands which had washed away, whilst thinking of what just happened. I knew the theory behind this and all but the experiment was only for a brave heart.

And as I was dreaming, one of my tour companion – an Australian lovely lady coaxed me into stepping in the deeper zone, trusting the process of being automatically lifted up and just enjoy the floating. And I did just that – as I semi-bravely stepped into the waters, lifted my body while she held my arms and kept encouraging me to ease my shoulders, to trust, to let go of taking control, to let go of all the fears and unnecessary thoughts and just to simply float. And thanks to her, I did just that! I am glad I finally floated on sea!

One advice, “Do not dip your head in the waters – unless you want stinging eyes and salty lips!” The water taste terribly salty that you would not want to add salt to your next meal. Another advice – “Do not rub your eyes – if you have applied the mud pack onto your face!”

But let me tell you the feeling of floating felt awesome and the mud pack was not at all sticky or salty, but what was disappointing was that my friends and me didn’t realize that time was running out and that all our other companions had vanished from the beach.

We had just an hour to spend remember and now it was past more than an hour and we have to wash up, change, head to our tour bus to meet our guide and reach the other designated spot.

After washing our bodies under the provided showers, our skin felt as soft as a baby’s butt. My sensitive skin was clear – no redness, no rash, no itchiness. I kid you not! – skin was soft and glowing. “I wished I had put a generous amount of mud on my face”, I thought – it would kill all of that pesky acne.

Anyways, rushing and changing into dry clothes within seconds was clearly an achievement I must say – we didn’t want to be left out by the tour company. Finally, we made it just in time before they could figure out that we were missing. It was indeed an amazing – must do experience.

Now, I can clearly tell you that the Dead Sea mud indeed has healing properties – many people with skin infections, rashes, even Psoriasis have got healed in these waters they say mainly because of the umpteen minerals found in the clay. In ancient times the queens would use this mud as facial treatments. There are several shops that sell Dead Sea mud, salt and skincare products that claim to have these Dead Sea minerals. But, I would recommend you not to purchase the products from the beach vendors here just because their authenticity cannot be guaranteed.

While, there are some prestigious stores in the city area sell genuine products (containing the Dead Sea minerals) which can be purchased and I have tried and tested them out. They are just awesome and work wonders on the skin.

I had purchased a face serum from Premium brand and a body lotion from the brand Ahava (roughly translated as Love) is a bomb product which heals the skin and it does cost a bomb too! But, hey, it is definitely worth the money. The serum soaked into my skin and felt like a cloud and did wonders for my acne prone skin while the body lotion which smells like the ocean, heals any allergic rashes and is an amazing moisturizer which I use sparingly. So, I highly recommend to buy products from this brand whenever you get a chance to. I regret not buying the dead sea salt and the clay mud packs though.

Sadly, this lake is truly dying, as confirmed by the locals, who see a decline in the water level year after year due to human greed and so called development. So, do plan your visit to this amazing creation and I will too definitely make another visit to the Dead Sea!

C is for Chandigarh

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Have you ever seen roads in the country India that are exactly parallel or perpendicular to one another? Roads that have no bends, no curves at all – just equidistant from each other forming the prefect 90-degree angle; You’ll find these only in Chandigarh – the planned city and beautiful  union territory in North India which is internationally known for its urban design. Tune into the satellite images on Google maps and see for yourself!

I happened to visit Chandigarh during a north Indian tour organized by my higher secondary school. And being a Trigonometry lover, I was just mesmerized by their road network!

I now learn that this city was mainly designed by Le Corbusier, a Swiss-French architect who had a powerful vision to enable easy and structured movement of vehicles and citizens.

His master plan included the road network consisting of seven types of roads called – The Seven ‘V’s or Les Sept Voies; each of which served the fast moving traffic to being just pedestrian pathways providing access to houses, shopping complexes and other streets. Also each of these roads, forming a character of their own, are dressed by beautiful trees including fruit trees which provide a cool pleasant walk or ride! Which is really what I experienced whilst at Chandigarh.

If you are fascinated with rocks or have participated in wealth out of waste competitions, then the Rock Garden of Chandigarh is a place you shouldn’t miss! It seems the creativity in this place was in hidden for almost 18 years! The man Nek Chand implemented his idea that any material could be framed into something amazing. Its seems in his spare time, Nek Chand as a hobby would create marvelous, eye catching sculptures in landfill out of simple waste materials like tiles, rubber tyres, plastic bottles, damaged glassware, etc. This transformed area was discovered by the government only after several years and is now a huge landscape property attracting many visitors forming a part of every tour package.

Another place that I visited in this city is the Zakir Hussain Rose Garden named after a former president and has a variety of roses, plants and trees. If you are a flower or plant lover this picturesque garden is not to be missed. I faintly remember that as we school mates were strolling along in this garden, a fellow school mate dared to pluck out a rose from one of the plant under the nose of a guard just to propose to me. I’m not sure if he would actually take that amount of risk or was just catching my attention. Anyhow, I shuddered at that proposal thought and moved quickly away to join another group.

There are more attractions in Chandigarh like unique green parks, gardens, museums that I didn’t get to see but hope to visit someday. Have you been to Chandigarh?

B is for Belgaum

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Belgaum – the city officially known as Belagavi will always hold a special place in my heart!

2008 was the year I first stepped into Belgaum seeking desperately for admission in a good college and since then began my fondness for this place. This city is located in the north eastern part of Karnataka state and shares borders with two prominent states – Maharashtra and Goa as a result you will find a blend of cultures and languages in this city. Most of the locals here are fluent in Kannada and Marathi which I tried to grasp during my college tenure here. I was told that there were several disputes amongst the two mighty states over claiming this city.

The climate feels pleasant overall if not hot in the summers and chilly in the winters. I had my first hailstone fall experience in Belgaum which was eerie yet amazing to see marble like ice balls falling from the sky!

After my successful admission in a prestigious college here, I was very nervous and reluctant to live there and fit into a completely different setting but gradually I fell in love with the cityscapes and the people around. After living there for 4 years it now feels like going back home.

Belgaum is mainly known by its universities and colleges offering education in Engineering, Medicine and Law. And so youth from all over India flock over to study here and thus one will find young minds from every state especially the northern states loitering all around the city.

College life was fun and one of the best phases of my life. I’m glad to have made friends with the localities from my class and college because of whom I got to gorge on the local home cooked meals – both Maharashtrian and Kannadiga cuisine! I fell in love with the Ghee Curd rice, lemon rice, bisi bele bath, thalipeeth, jhunka, groundnut chutneys, dabeli and not to forget the yummy mutton (a must try if you enter a native house). I would devour the chaat and sugarcane juice from this famous eatery called Nath sugarcane juice centre. Gosh! this post is turning to be about food.

Till today, my mouth waters at the thought of these hot-selling chicken sandwiches from the iconic Swamy Bakery in the Belgaum Camp area which would be my compulsory visit to soon after every Sunday church service. Their freshly baked pavs, cutlets and chops are also very popular. Another culinary delight born into this city is the royal Niyaaz restaurant and their deliciously flavourful biryani. Niyaaz was my go to restaurant for a dine in or home delivery which the restaurant offered at no extra cost (this was way before the existence of the delivery apps).

Amongst other amenities, Belgaum is famous for its market places having a variety of sarees and dress materials and so people shopping for their marriages, especially those from neighbouring states flock here to shop in the interiors like Khade bazaar, Ramdev galli, Maruti galli and others.

The tum-tum which isa slow speed auto rickshaw in the city was one of my preferred means of transport since it was cheaper, easily accessible and yes very accommodating (they would never refuse your entry). These tum-tums would accommodate more than 10 persons and so comfort and pleasant odours was out of question. The effect of that slow and sweaty journey was when it finally reached my destination it would leave me smelling of a myriad of aromas!

I do find the riding / driving culture dynamic yet risky here where traffic rules are unknown, helmets are not worn and cycle riders would take up the challenge of overtaking the gigantic trucks at top speed. Once, despite having the Goan style of careful riding, I happened to dash into one such overconfident cycle rider (probably with failed brakes) while crossing the road with a borrowed bike. He thankfully just gave me the look, lifted his cycle and rode off and away.

There are some nature attractions along the outskirts of the city which my peers and me would visit by bunking college lectures. Belgaum houses many forts which have breath-taking views and whose fort walls, some maintained – some in ruins tell stories of the rulers and royals who lived there.

One of the most pleasant places was the cantonment area which is just called “Camp” or “Military Camp” by the locals. I would visit the Our Lady of Fatima Cathedral located in this area every Sunday and on holidays. I have memories playing out of short and quiet peaceful walks under the glistening Gulmohar trees in this area.

So, yes, Belgaum the city, the people, the food will always feel like home. This reminds me I need to visit home soon!

A is for Ahmedabad

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Ahmedabad, this 600+ year old walled city founded by emperor Ahmed Shah was declared as a world heritage by UNESCO. Recently, it has been conferred with the title – India’s first World Heritage City. 

Ahmedabad is one of those heritage cities that is rich in history, architecture and not to forget – food!

I happened to visit this beautiful city after a holiday tour with my friends to the Rann Utsav – the White Desert Festival in Kutch. Ahmedabad was just a transit stop to reach our home state. We had exactly a late night and half a day to spare before our scheduled flight back home and we wanted to make the most of that spare time.

And so we google searched and listed out the “must visit places” in Ahmedabad and sat down to and plan out our itinerary. It was a longlist I must say and we realized that much time wouldn’t be enough even if we hopped and skipped from spot to spot.

Finally, after much thought and brain storming we agreed upon the places that we would visit and kept timelines upto the time it would take us to reach the airport. And since we didn’t want to waste a single hour, the first on list for the day was an early morning walkthrough the old city of Ahmedabad!

That morning we all awoke without hesitation and set out for our walkthrough of the old heritage city where we would get a quick yet detailed tour. They handed us printed wristbands and a map of the route and places that we would cover in 2 hours.

The walking tour began at a majestic Swaminarayan Temple embellished with intricate carved pillars and archways. This architecture marvel crafted in 1822 A.D. is just mesmerizing. The Swaminarayan Sampradaya is a sect of Hinduism which preaches non-violence, tolerance and impartiality between religions, casts and creed which I found to be an important aspect.

Along our walk, we noticed these tower-like structures, with enclosures decorated with intricate patterns and every structure fluttering with birds – mostly pigeons but also sparrows, small birds and green parrots!

These Chabutras as they are called there – were traditionally made of wood or stone and were constructed in the centres of open spaces, at entrances of the heritage homes and at every drive-through junction to serve as feeding and nesting site for birds.

Our guide told us that these are a part of the Gujarat’s cultural and architectural heritage which reflects the tradition of coexistence between man and birds. Truly mesmerized and appreciating one such Chabutra, I thought to myself – this is one urban jungle that is nature friendly!

And yet further, we were introduced to clusters of heritage homes – called pols which held the city’s storied past as informed by our guide. These pols are a cluster of houses from different eras – the British era, the Mughals era, the Maratha era and so forth. Here each façade built of wooden carvings, railings and columns depicted a different type of architecture. We were also informed that each house was inhabited by families of the same caste, religion or occupation. And so every pol had a variety of families living in a common neighbourhood.

We walked across chowks which are courtyards built into marketplaces. We were introduced to the famous Manek Chowk – the second-largest jewellery market in India! As the guide was briefing upon this prominent city square, my friends suddenly started nudging me, reminding me that we visited this chowk just the previous night feasting on the street foods and the amazing Jamun Shots (a must try!).

I was shocked and amazed at this revelation that this was the same Chowk just because it looked so different – so prime and proper in day light – just a clear decent courtyard surrounded by stores and vendors. While the previous night it was just full of chaos – jam packed with street food carts and people with possibly inches of ground to walk on. This chowk functions as a vegetable and grocery market in the day, a jewellery market in the afternoon and emerges into this vibrant street food market at night. I loved this scenic transformation – morning, noon and night and highly recommend visiting Manek Chowk!

Walking along through varied by-lanes, chowks and pols, entering heritage homes and listening to our very knowledgeable and friendly guide, we learnt about how the Gujaratis developed exceptional work ethics, entrepreneurial skills and business acumen from their ancestors.

We also passed by the Rani no Hajiro which was built by sultan Ahmed Shah which is a vault of graves serving as a final resting place for the queens of his empire. And gradually we walked across the Badshah no Haziro which is the sultans’ burial place.

The walk ended at the renowned Jama Masjid in the heart of the city of Ahmedabad which they say was the largest mosque that was built in India in that era. This Mosque was constructed in the year 1424 A.D. from yellow sandstone and showcases a blend of Islamic architecture and traditional Hindu architectural elements.

This insightful walking tour known as the Mandir to Masjid walk showing centuries-old pol houses and chowks; spoke volumes of secularism, harmony and fellowship amongst the natives of this old city. This walkthrough of the heritage city is a must do whenever you plan your visit to Ahmedabad!

A to Z Challenge 2024! – Theme Reveal

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Hey there reader!

I know I know that I haven’t been able to keep up to my previous challenges accepted. But, hey! don’t you think that it’s better to try and try until you succeed than just give up and consider yourself a loser! (*ouch*)

So here I am once again – another year, another challenge!

And here goes my theme reveal.. (*drumroll*)

PLACES THAT I HAVE TRAVELED

All through this month, you’ll read about all my experiences in bits and pieces of the places that I have travelled to!

Here I might be trying to create a Travelogue and I truly believe in the quote by Mark Twain – “One must travel to learn”, and also the quote from the famous great traveler, Ibn Battuta – “Traveling – it leaves you speechless, then turns you into a storyteller”

So as always this April A-Z Challenge is about writing 26 posts with a theme in mind where each post starts with the Letter Alphabet of the day from A to Z for 26 days all throughout the month of April.

So hold on to your seats and get ready to journey along with me travel the world through this blog!

F is for Fishing

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“One, two, three, four, five
Once I caught a fish alive
Six, seven, eight, nine, ten
Then I let it go again..”

This was one of my favourite nursery rhyme and fishing was one of my favourite pastime activity. Fishing just intrigued me and still captivates me.

I would spend my summer holidays at my grandmother’s place – in a quaint village nestled around mountains, fields and rivers. There was this flowing river, close to the neighbourhood, which served as a prefect fishing spot.

I had close friends from the neighbourhood whom I used to pester and coax to join me in my fishing expedition. And off we used to go to the river, sneaking out our homes every afternoon.

We would carry some borrowed cane baskets and prepare a colourful dough of a mixture of flour and turmeric for the bait. Once we stepped inside the still areas of the cool river, we would lower the basket into the water with balls of dough stuck to the bottom making it like an attractive ground for the creatures under water.

And interestingly the tiny, slimy fish would get attracted to the colourful dough balls and once they were busy picking at the dough, we would pull out the basket out of the waters with all our might. And we would catch of the some tiny helpless fish who were so lost eating the dough.

Depending on our mood we would leave the fish back in their home or we would carry them back to our homes in glass jars serving as aquarium.

It was tougher to catch bigger fish because that would require large nets and swimming expertise to go into the deeper sections of the river. And so we left that to the village elder boys who would catch the larger fish that one could take home and cook a tasty meal. On some rare days, looking at the plight of us fishing in the swallow waters, the boys would be kind enough and give us a big fish or two from their catch.

Days passed and the basket technique seemed to fail – either the fish had gotten smarter or the dough balls were no more colourful and tastier! – we couldn’t figure out. So we decided to switch the techniques of catching fish. One hot afternoon, we sneaked into the store rooms of our houses (me in at my grandmother’s house) and fished for something, some tool to help us fish!

My friend found an old netted dress which she thought would make a perfect net to catch fish into! While I found a reel of nylon thread and a rusty metal hook which sparked the idea to build us a fishing rod.

We sneaked out into our safe space along with our newly found items and began to plan out and strategize. First we neatly cut out the net portion from the beautiful dress and kept the dress folded back in place as if it wasn’t touched. We spread out the net, tied some small heavy stones at the ends to have a sort of a grip while pulling the net up.

I used a long bamboo cane stick as my fishing rod, tied the nylon thread to it and tied the rusty hook to the end of the thread. Now all we need was worms for bait just like we saw in the cartoons.

Since we didn’t have any worms, we settled for our dough balls. I also sneaked in some meat pieces from my afternoon lunch.

Off we walked that afternoon, with our net and fishing rod to venture and try our new fishing techniques. When we reached the river, we noticed that we wouldn’t be alone that noon. There were some village women present washing clothes – disappointed, we sighed – the water would now be disturbed because of the washing and soap and fish would not swim that stop.

Upset but determined to catch something that day, we decided to venture into a new spot which was a tad bit deeper in the river. The waters were waist down deep here. None of us knew to swim, but we had the daring approach to protect each other and definitely to catch something no matter what. And so, my friend dipped the net nicely into the waters at that spot and waited patiently as usual. Fish entered and fish left. The small, slimy, quick swimmers. While I choose a spot to cast my fishing rod into and placed a nicely rolled yellow dough on the pointy edge of the hook and set the string and hook under water.

After a while, my friend started signalling me and I saw a bigger fish caught in the trap of that makeshift net. I signalled her back telling her that I would come back to help her. But suddenly I felt a tug at my fishing rod. A strong tug as if the rod would slip of my hand. I was holding on weakly though. As soon as I felt the third tug I held on firmly and pulled the string up to find a catfish caught on the hook squirming away for its poor life.

I pulled the whole string out of the water spot and placed it on ground. I panicked at the sight of the fish and was a bit shocked that such a big fish had got caught.

My friend seeing me pulled up the net and managed to catch some tiny fish which she quickly placed in the glass bottle. She then headed quickly to fishing hook, set the catfish free (was really tough and a bloody sight). She put the catfish into another glass jar that we had causally carried.

The catfish even though hurt by the hook and out of breath for some time, swam uncomfortably in the jar which we took home to showcase as our treasure.

And thus ends the escapade of my fishing trip where the biggest fish got caught in my trap.

E is for Eagle Hunters

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I really cannot recall how and why the fear of Eagles crept in the childhood of my cousin sister and yours truly.

Yes folks!, this is gonna be yet another childhood story – after all they are the most entertaining ones I feel. Don’t you think so too?

Well, let’s dive straight into this escapade then.

So those were the days where I lived on the highest floor in the city. Living in an urban area meant having every necessity at your door step! It also meant having garbage here, garbage there, garbage, garbage everywhere! There was a small garbage dump yard besides the building where I lived in. And this garbage yard attracted these mighty birds of prey – the raptors – the Eagles! These eagles loved garbage picking and went at it like nobody’s business.

Being the 90s kids who loved to play outdoors, but helpless to find a suitable ground in the urban concrete jungle, the only place that we found compatible was the good old terrace. And off we would go to the top to play games, chit-chat and plan some mischief! Often during our playtime, there were  these creatures – the Eagles – hovering, low and below, atop our heads with their sharp eyes focused on us alone. Yes, its true! I guess that’s what brought in the fear.

Once, during summer holidays at my grandmother’s place, I saw an eagle swiftly pick up a chick (the hen’s obviously) and fly high away. I shuddered with horror at the thought of what might have happened next to that poor chick.

And so whenever we had these raptor creatures come to our play zone, we would run and take shelter and wait till the eagles leave. Often they would never leave and we had to sacrifice our playtime and run downstairs! We just hated those eagles!

This situation of sacrificing our playtime was getting out of hand. Moreover it felt like we were being defeated by these birds, after all we had learnt that man is the most powerful on this planet. And, so both my cousin and me decided to take courage (it was more of revenge) and devise a plan to shoo those eagles away from ruining our playtime!

Now, we had watched too many videos on Discovery and National Geographic channels but never came across any antidote to drive off the Eagles. So we came up with a plan to fight them – well not bare handed of course – we couldn’t fly like them duh! We thought of a perfect weapon and settled on using the longest stick. Thankfully we found one at a neighbouring construction site. So we took it on the terrace and nicely placed it at an accessible spot.

Since, we took up the task of this brave job, we decided to give ourselves a title – and after much thought a name came up – the Eagle Hunters!

Don’t you smirk, we preteens felt so brave to defend ourselves against these raptors.  

We decided on designing uniforms for ourselves so that we get into the hunter zone. My cousin who is artistic drew and traced out eagles with tracing paper on some old t-shirts and shorts titled Eagle Hunters and we wore these and headed to the terrace waiting for those creatures to come out.

After a long time of waiting, the dark brown eagle flew across from the opposite building and came straight targeting our building. Both of us held on to the stick tightly, our heart beats accelerating we also dived up after the raptor and jus waved out the stick together at it like crazy shouting some slogan that I cannot remember. The poor eagle freaked out and flew higher and higher away. We rejoiced at our victory on the first attempt. We were truly the Eagle Hunters! 

Days passed by and we kept shooing the eagles away, courage building up each day. The logo on our t-shirts had also faded away. The plot had gotten a bit of a bore too. But we could enjoy our relaxing playtime and have the terrace to ourselves. We also proudly spoke to our class friends about our wild adventures with eagles. Ha!  

Until one day as we were playing on the terrace, there came a huge gang of eagles who were circling around the garbage pile. We ignored and thought that they wouldn’t fly down to our area. As we continued to play we noticed that the circle had reached closer and was hovering above us. It was then that we noticed that the Eagles clan was not after the garbage but was circling or possibly following a larger Eagle who looked different – it had a white head and breast unlike the usual brown eagles. We were so stunned and looked up in awe at that particular Eagle breed. We had never seen this white head eagle before. It was like the brown eagles had called their Queen to defend them. And we felt them hovering lower and lower us in circles that we stopped counting. We were so nervous that we forgot about our weapon and just fled from the scene and let the Eagles have their play time atop.

Years later, we learnt that the mighty Queen was a Brahminy Kite – most probably a female one whom the male brown eagles were after. And she just ended our crazy eagle adventure.

D is for Doll

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Well playing around with dolls was never my cup of tea.

Dolls were not the toy category that I would enjoy playing with or even prefer having; especially after watching the horror movies – Child’s Play and Papi Gudia at a young age. Remember Chucky?

This is turning to be yet another post stolen from the childhood stage.

As a kid, I preferred bikes, cars and kitchen toy sets to play with and probably that’s why I rarely had girl friends. I vividly remember I had just this one mother doll of an arm length with a tiny finger length baby doll that was gifted to me. This doll adorned the showcase cupboard that was in my living room and I wasn’t interested in playing with this mother doll even though she would open and close her eyes and there would be a musical lullaby playing out of the speakers from her behind!

Anyhoo, an event was scheduled at my prestigious primary school – a tea party with our dolls! We children were asked to bring our dolls for this party at school. Sounds so funny today right? This was way back in the early 90’s. I can’t remember what the boys were asked to bring along. Probably their car toys.

My school was a very strict one and not honouring the theme or even skipping that party would mean getting into serious trouble with the principal and further even leading to detention. I didn’t want that. I couldn’t carry that big mother doll to school and even if I managed, the other children (who were probably crazy about dolls) would tear her apart. Nor could I afford to buy a decent doll at such a short notice. So what would a child do?

My neighbour friend had a large collection of dolls especially Barbie doll collection. She just enjoyed playing with dolls and had brought different dresses for each of them. I thought of asking her to lend me just one of her dolls for the party. After all she was also one of the student in the same school in a higher grade than me, and so she would definitely understand my plea of not having a toy to take to that party. After politely requesting her, she hesitantly agreed. I was her only girl buddy in that neighbourhood and we would spend a lot of time after school together, so I guess she couldn’t refuse me. I promised her that I would take great care of the doll and that I would return it to her safe and sound.

My friend gave me a simple, petite, blonde haired doll. When I reached home I began to notice the features of this doll. She had this gloomy look on her PVC face. She was not the typical fancy Barbie doll. I was so glad she wasn’t one. But I thought she needed to brighten up and look cooler and happy!

I opened up her braided blonde hair and thought to myself, “Hmmm.. how can I help you girl?”, “What sort of makeover can I do to make you look prettier?” I felt like her fairy Godmother.

There was no time to stitch her some new fancy clothes as the party was the next day. Nor could I add some makeup to her pale face – (I disliked makeup in that era). So the only thing left was the hair. Let’s make her an Indian I thought. This blonde hair is making her look paler.

Filled with determination and forgetting that she wasn’t my doll, I stepped into the bathroom, reached out to the wall cupboard and carefully took out the Godrej jet black hair dye which was used by my father for colouring the greys in his beard and moustache.

It was noon time and everyone at home was asleep, so I was free to conduct and succeed at my experiment (that’s what I thought). I mixed something into dye, dipped an old toothbrush into the solution and started to paint the poor doll’s beautiful blonde hair black.

After washing the hair and once it began to dry down, I realised that the experiment turned out to be a disaster. The colour instead of the turning into a smooth black finish turned out to be patchy and ugly dark brown black colour which also had accidently seeped into the poor dolls forehead and some got into her eye sockets. She seemed scary. She looked like Chucky’s girlfriend turned brunette!

My thoughts of restyling this pale blonde into a bold brunette went to the garbage! I was all the more terrified to take her for the tea party and even more horrified to return her back to her owner.

And thus she became the last doll that I ever toyed around with!

C is for Clubhouse

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Once in a while, don’t we all feel the need to have our own private space to just relax and chill out? As adults, isn’t it easy and convenient to drive to the beach alone or to just step into a cozy bar and just rewind. This personal space would help gather our thoughts, think rationally and make decisions especially when life’s rollercoaster is at a twisted turn!

So as a kid did you feel the need to have such a space? Well, I for one, did yearn for a personal home! – As a kid, I often dreamt of building and living in a tree house. I should write more on that in my subsequent posts.

Anyways, living in a tiny apartment with a large family, I craved my personal space. And so did my cousin sister who was my partner in crime in various ventures. We were huge fans of the author Enid Blyton and all her classic adventure stories. In many of her books, the characters owned a private space – a clubhouse.

And so one fine day, we decided to search for such a place where we could be all alone, think and talk business strategies, discuss personal problems and plan our future mischief! And so the search began for our own clubhouse aka our adda!

One sunny afternoon, on our way home from school, we happened to pass by an abandoned heritage villa facing the main road. The house was constructed at a height with a high plinth level above the road.

We drew closer to the villa, stepped on our toes and peeked inside through the cracked glass of the villa’s french windows. The interior was dark and dingy and smelt gross, but the light bulb in both our minds sparked! – this house was meant to be our clubhouse.

Since it was way past lunch time, we decided to head home and visit this abandoned house the next day. On our way home, we discussed how we would clean and set up the house or at least a room in that house.

The next day we both waited impatiently for the last class of the day so that we could quickly head to our designated clubhouse. As soon as the last school bell rang we ran out of our classrooms and headed quickly to that house. We had saved up the water from our water bottles and had carried some old rags to clean up at least one room which we could set up and chill out.

Once we reached there, we realised that the entry into the house was apparently locked with an old rusty padlock; also the entrance was covered with wild bushes and most importantly the entry faced the main road where passer-by walked and vehicles continuously drove past. It would be risky to break the lock and sneak inside in broad daylight we thought. It might be a crime if we did so and probably get us into trouble. “Na, there has to be another way inside – possibly a back entry”, we reasoned. We started walking at the extreme end of the house, through the thick cobwebs and the thorny bushes of probably years old. As we were looking for a backdoor entry, we across a life-size concrete horse statue who seemed majestic and strong stationed along the length of the house as if it were guarding the villa. Reaching the end of the house, we saw that the back door was also locked and it was completely covered in wild bushes and would be difficult to cut cross with our small bare hands.

Disappointed, we started walking back to the front and stopped near the handsome horse. There we spotted a window exactly facing the horse and whose glass was completely shattered. With the school bags tightly clung to our shoulders, we left climbed up the horse and reached out at the window and rattled the glass lightly with our water bottles. Instantly, shards of glass fell off and the window was bare enough to jump through it.

Guess what? – we just did that – we jumped in through the window of an abandoned old dingy villa in broad day light right in the heart of the city! I had just turned 10 years old that year and entering into that villa, I felt so proud to have finally found a clubhouse!

B is for Borders

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Last year while traveling across the international conflicted borders into the West Bank, Palestine from Israel, I was terrified. The armed Israeli military, the electric fencing along the borders and the in-your-face striking red warning sign boards to trespassers being shot at sight popped up along that dreaded journey.

Have you ever been lost or stuck or left out along the international border between nations? Do you know of anyone that has been left out and all alone at the border of rival nations?

Well, yours truly has been in such a scenario! I was out early morning at the Indo-Pak unfenced border in No Man’s Land. Thankfully I wasn’t alone; there were two other wild kids with me.

This crazy escapade happened during a holiday tour with my friends to the Rann Utsav – the White Desert Festival which is held every year during the winter season in the Kutch district of Gujarat. My long awaited bucket list trip finally manifested and I visited the Great Rann of Kutch – one of the largest salt deserts in the world!

So apparently the international border between India and Pakistan along the Rann of Kutch is not fenced but is guarded and watched over by the stationed Border Security Force (BSF) personnel. It cannot be fenced mainly because of the terrain being a salt marsh and also because of the weather conditions that would not allow any metal to withstand without getting corroded and deteriorated. Lately I learn that there are venomous snakes and scorpions in that area which have possibly kept terrorists at bay.

Getting back to the tour – our first day was packed with exciting activities and scrumptious vegetarian food which we Goans voraciously devoured. The next day we woke up at wee hours since we were scheduled to witness the sunrise at the magnificent White Rann. And so we set out, stepped into the tour bus along with other tourists to reach the sunrise point. This point apparently is termed as the ‘Zero Point‘ which falls along the unfenced borders of the India and Pakistan and such an area is called ‘No Man’s Land ‘.

We excitedly climbed a huge three floor structure using our phone lights as torches and waited impatiently to view the sunrise. Suddenly, mesmerizing hues of the sunrise began to appear in the pale sky. The three of us scrambled amidst the other tourists to capture the best photographs. Once the sun was out it shone its beautiful light on the white desert. Our tourist guide allowed our group to spend few minutes walking along the White Rann and clearly informed us to be back in our buses at some scheduled time.

The three of us were sleepily excited and so caught up with nature’s view that we walked for a long while away from our group and for moments had turned into the Gen-Z snapping numerous photographs and selfies playing along with the soft sunlight. After all one looks the best when photographed in the early dawn sunlight – it’s the Golden Hour in professional photography.

And so we completely lost track and time. We noticed a family few metres from us and thought that they were from our tour group and so we continued our nature walk and shots. After a while, we realized that family whom we thought was amongst our tour group was now heading into a private car which was far from reach and sound. The only motor vehicle in sight zoomed off and that’s when it struck us that we were left out in the White Rann.

We looked all around again in our plight for the sight of a bus or of people. But there was nobody around. Except for some camels resting, it was just us three Goan girls (aka three wild kids) standing on ‘No Man’s Land‘ along the unfenced borders and a few kilometers away from our neighbour Pakistan!