A Slice of Madhya Pradesh

We are passing by some of the most beautiful countryside in madhya pradesh. the last hour or so has imprinted so many images of such verdant clarity that our minds and hearts are invigorated.

My mac is crooning melodious songs as we enjoy the riches of nature flashing by. The continuous movement of the locomotive is having a lulling effect on our overworked bodies.


(Pic by Radhakrishna, one of our co-passengers)

Bujju is persuading a very reluctant Arushee to have her hair combed. The other passengers were sitting back and enjoying the crystal clear songs of Sawariyan. To add to the wonderful ambience, the pantry boy has just brought us our breakfast-bread & omlette. Life is good.

We just hit Nagpur. And most of our friends got down and suddenly there is more space. Bujju is now sitting on the other side, leafing through Filmfare; Arushee has a whole seat to herself. And all of us are now listening to the poignant 'ma' from taare zameen par. We bid farewell to Nagpur. Ever filthy. Ever indian. Ever so lovely.

The sun is now shining bright making the green even more brilliant. There are puffs of clouds present now. It is quite enchanting. I'm trigger happy with the camera right now as the train chugs away.

This quaint town is called Sevagram. I can see a school playground and beyond the red tiled roofs of the school blocks. Somehow, I have this feeling that people here are very happy. There is an order here that suggests contentment.

AC 3-tier

I always thought the windswept experience of a sleeper class is far
superior to that of being confined in an AC coach. But I have to
admit: the soothing waves thrown by the vents above feel very good.

Somehow, the flowing swathes of the outdoor look charming from behind
the wide glass window. And what I do appreciate is keeping my elbows
dry-if you know what I mean-from all those anonymous water sprays
whose origins you are not awarw of and don't want to ponder over. Love
thy neighbors.

And since I have been jetting away for the past couple of years, I
seemed to have missed some innovations happening in the world of
railways. Under the auspices of our maverick rail minister Laloo, the
coach now, instead of 8 berths per pod has 9! "Cheating! My wife cried
foul.

It is difficult to describe how they went about creating the real
estate. The bygone era had a simple even arrangement of 3 pairs and 1
pair on either side of the aisle. So 6 would sleep on one side and two
would sleep perpendicular to these 6. Now, quite inconceivably, the
genius coach designer has tucked in a 3rd berth in between the two
berths by the window! You have to see to believe the logistical
impossibility.

Now the thing that clinches the whole wierdity is if the poor soul
does manage to sleep in between the two very inconvenient sleeping
forms, where does the 9th guy get to sit? No, not where he sleeps but
has to go across the other side and squeeze himself on the 3-seater.
That's the oddest allocation ever! See the pic, don't take my word for
it. Ha ha. Long live laloo.

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Lunch @ Andhra Bhavan

Who will ever believe that you can treat yourself to unlimited delicious andhra food right in the heart of delhi?

Yes, I'm talking about Andhra Bhavan canteen that is located a stone's throw away from India Gate.

Look at the joy writ all over Lalitha as she puts a finger on the thing she is going to enjoy the most: the red hot mango pickle.

At 70 INR (that's a dollar and a half), the value is incredible. The moment you step inside, for an andhrite, it is coming home right in the capital city. You suddenly hear and see all that is part of your DNA: swarthy faces that speak telugu, women in cotton saris, the larger than life statue of lord Balaji, and yes, the unmistakable smells of andhra food.

The guy comes and lays your 'unlimited' thalis and proceeds to fill it up with hot rice and dal and pickles. The katoris of sambar and rasam quickly follow. Heavenly. We typically do 3 or sometimes even 4 helpings of rice to do justice to the number of dishes, from pickle to curds.

In less than a hour, you end up feeling like you never gonna get up from that table and do anything. Satiated is the word.

I was sleepy, then the airhostess came...

With the aromas of thai red curry and I don't know what for the
veggies. I took a raincheck. The girl in tight red skirt was
addressing each of the passengers with their last names. As she was
obviously reading it from a hidden list, she was struggling with
tongue twisters like mine, "Mr. Tirr-pause-nagar," she stammered. I
fell into the routine of shaking my head to the series of offers she
had to make, first, what will you have, a shake, something to drink?
Another shake, how about some dessert, shake shake, at least some tea
or coffee, my head by now starting to feel like a robot. A final
shake. "No. Nothing". The red skirt can't believe that I passed up on
a free meal and casts her eyes heavenward. "Freak."

I desperately wish these guys would change the red to something
lighter. Red curtains separating the business from us mortals is a
little stressful. Kingfisher should do something of a Google doodle in
terms of changing their color. The cups in yelllow; the napkin in
white, the wet wipe in lemon; the head rest in light blue, the
headphones again in yellow? I think I might like that. Valls, you
taking note?

We just crossed nanded and nizamabad. The movie playing is Bhoothnath.
I have to say this: you will be surprised to know how fulfilling it is
too see a movie in silent mode. You will end up loving the whole
process of catching up with lip movements and emotions and making
complete sense of all things silently pass from frame to frame. I saw
both Boothnath and Jannat this way. Try it.

Some people watch TV with their mouths open. It is a slightly funny
sight especially if you don't know what they are watching.

Did you notice that the aroma of the coffee teases your senses more
than the coffee itself? Especially, what is served on a flight and
also in a 5-star hotel is awful. But I'm enjoying the smell and the
hand that pours it. (It is supposed to come off in a lecherous way.)

Off to a nap this middle-aged rascal.

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