Lessons from traveling

I would love to say that I am a travel junkie, oozing with wanderlust or, in buzzfeed-speak, one whose life is made of #travelgoals. But, besides these descriptions being highly vague and stilted, they would be impossible to factually substantiate in my case. 

However, in the little I have traveled, there are some important things I have understood - lessons which have only been reinforced with every single outing. And I would like to share them - mostly because this is my blog and I share things here, and also because some of these lessons came back to me in my recent trip to a couple of countries in Europe. 

A group pic from Gokarna (2013) just because!

• Pick close friends whom you bond with (or family) as travel companions. Unless you are some maniac who gets thrills from the likelihood of being let down. If there are no such people available, go solo (actually going solo might just trump everything, but that's a topic for another day)

• Do not aim to make the entire group happy, even if you are with close friends. Traveling in a group doesn't mean the individuals need to be glued together. If people differ, let everyone do their thing and regroup only when you find a common agenda which, if you follow the previous point, you will.

• Draw a broad list of must-do's and optionals and make sure everyone largely agrees to these in order to save future heartburn. Even if you are 'backpacking'. 

• Don't follow the herd. As counter-intuitive as it may sound, if you visit a famous tourist spot, and are standing in a long queue to buy a ticket, there is likely some place right next to it which packs hundred times the wonder and brilliance, is free and has nobody checking that out.
  
  My earliest recollection of this is from the time when I was eight. My family chanced upon a godforsaken zoo in Mysore, laughed at a decrepit board reading 'Penguins', and lost our minds when we found a huge group of frickin' penguins waddling in a pool of icy cold water, in the Indian summer!
  
  More recently, I experienced this while walking the roads and community parks in Prague and Vienna, where I found magic in the most uncanny of places (the picture below shows at least a 100 people huddled in a 15 by 15 m area to watch a renowned hourly clock tower ritual which was quite a damp squib. Meanwhile, just a 100 m away, what is happening the video was happening)

• Talk to people and ask about things you don't understand. This could range from asking directions to asking if something you are wearing or doing is proper in a culture, to inquiring fellow travellers/ locals if some place you are planning to visit is worth it.

• Wiki travels is awesome. And so is google maps. Also, not that it is something that I learnt recently but only realized the full use of in my last trip is GPS! Honest. Just load a google map of an area and you do not need the internet (which is a problem on some trips) and never get lost.

At the fag end were the graves of Beethoven and Brahms!

• Walk. If you are an aam aadmi like me, your feet may hurt. A lot. Carry one of those pain relief gels. And keep walking. 

• Go absolute crazy. Or do something that your instinct is wary of. Trust me, this need not involve alcohol. Like walking around in one of the largest cemeteries in the world after twilight. With not a soul around. Or perhaps, with some around.
  
  Because stories are never made of the mundane. And one can buy all the fridge magnets they want. But it is only the stories that stay with you. Forever.

Of stories that walk. And breathe.

We are all but walking stories. Some dramatic. Others not so much. Some happy. Others a wee bit sad. Everyone of us is a writer of stories, albeit only some may be passionate raconteurs. We are the protagonist in most of the stories we write. And in thousands of instances, a mere character in somebody else's. 

Our life's central discourse is largely shaped by our interpretations, our interactions and our interpretations of the interactions with 'reality' - and not by 'reality' itself (if there is such a thing). What we are today is a sum of the stories we wrote on the way, the stories we chose to tell and, in no mean manner, the stories we let fade into oblivion.

Stories are both a function of time and place. One place becomes the stage for many stories at different points in time. And of course, at the same time, innumerable stories are taking shape in a variety of places. I often feel that the three elements of stories - time, place and the characters end up being like the Horcruxes in the Harry Potter series.

Alright, let's not call them horcruxes. However, these story capsules are everywhere - an artist's masterpiece, a dying mother's baby, a monument touched by various travelers, or in a loved one's gift. A story that others read and re-read while the writer is writing more, and even after the final chapter of his story is long done.

While we may be unwittingly embedding our stories in everything we touch, our own mind does a less than pleasing job with remembering them. The perception of 'how was Friday night?' could take a number of forms over the course of the next week. And the wry smile you received from that female at the bar counter could gradually transform into a coquettish grin, if you wish to remember it that way. Our memories always remain shrouded in a blanket of our social milieu, our secret desires and fears as well. 

As we move ahead in life, the stories that we create on the way remain a part of us. We can allow them to be the fetters that hold us back or let them be the wings that help us soar. Yet, it is imperative that we must write. And write relentlessly.

For your deeds may raise you to Heaven, or banish you to the gates of Hell. But make sure, as you stand there, you have a great story to tell.

Turning 28 and other silly things

I am not a huge fan of birthdays.

Truth be told, it is really just the successful completion of a free trip around the sun without getting yourself killed. The added nuances of another increment to one's years are tough to negotiate with. And when it is one in the late twenties, it gets even more tricky.

Yesterday was one such day for me. Before I go on, it is good to be out of the 27 club. Hey! I am no musical prodigy but one can never know. But club 28 isn't a bed of roses either. There is a lot of utterances of the M word. Or the Sh word if you are in India. Entirely maddening. Everyone is watching Game of Thrones. Everyone tells you you've got to watch it too. Everyone's getting married. Everyone tells you you should too. Except that the latter would last till S69E1080. 

I remember the listicles that spurred me on a couple of years ago, and realize I am barely at halfway mark on the 25 things to do before 25. And perhaps, there are three more on that list now that I don't even know about. I scroll through nostalgic videos on Facebook which talk about the life of a 90s kid and, to my sheer horror, it registers that I am, technically, not even a 90s kid.

But, I am done with the book I was planning to write. No wait, I am actually done with it - like the idea itself. So, now I need new inspiration. Read more to write more, they tell you. I am lagging behind by almost 50% on a very modest Goodreads annual challenge. So, that doesn't look very good either.

And then there's work and the larger career goals. Where is this going? I totally think the crazy race to make it big and be all sorted in your twenties is insane but it's real and it's happening. So, either one gracefully exits the race track or else you run. Of course, at 28, I still have a fair shot at all those 30 under 30 lists. LOL, JK.

But amidst all this, you come home to a fabulous home-made cake, a hand-made card and loads of smiles and hugs. Your friends take out time from their equally crazy lives to wish you. And make sure they do their bit to make you feel special (even if that ends with a lot of cake in your hair).

And you know you will live through this and live well. 

Sandcastles

The stick broke again, as he

carved out a ridge in the mound of sand.

She walked in and stood near by,

He smiled, and she waved a shy hand.

A casual nod was invitation enough,

She daintily ambled across the beach.

Her eyes spoke of stories many,

Her cheeks reflected a ruddy peach.

The boy extended a muddy hand,

Few words, and the acquaintance grew.

She saw he was busy building a sand castle,

And asked if she could help too.

He gleefully handed her a shovel,

They set to work with unusual zeal.

As they carefully moulded shapes aplenty,

The unsaid bond they both could feel.

Their castle, as they called it, was taking shape,

All the hard work was bearing fruit.

She had gone to fetch some more water,

But, on her way back, took a longer route.

An hour and a quarter later, she returned,

Wearing an expression yet unseen.

She spoke of other castles around, and how theirs

Wasn't as perfect as some others had been.

A little effort will make it so, the boy beseeched,

But something inside her heart had died.

She had wanted earnestly to take it to close,

But now nor time, nor effort she could bide.

The beach lured her no more, she walked away,

Before the boy could his dismay voice.

He tried hard to reason the turn of events,

Unperturbed by the sea’s rising noise.

He glanced at the castle, and all it could have been,

If only her thoughts had not been led astray.

Just then a wave rumbled right over the rampart,

Sand castles, he realized, are never meant to stay.

Zen and the Art of housefly termination

When it comes to evading capture/ death, houseflies are like the Charles Sobhraj of the insect world. Houseflies, it turns out, see the world in slow motion. As one researcher puts it, houseflies evading swats are like Neo evading those bullets in the Matrix. It has also been studied that they are capable of banking at 90 degree angles almost instantaneously, making evasion of contact lightning quick. 

It is not a trivial matter at all. Numerous stories/ movies highlight the herculean task killing a housefly is. Who can forget the brave little tailor who killed seven in one blow? Or Mr. Miyagi talking about focus while trying to capture a fly using chopsticks. Or the most hilarious and telling references in Eega by SS Rajamouli (or Makkhi in Hindi) where the hero reincarnates as a housefly and wreaks havoc in the villain's life. If you haven't seen this one, you must. It is probably the third most played movie on TV after Sooryavansham & Jaani Dushman (not the Sonu Nigam one) - so, you won't have to wait too long.

This pursuit of flies has driven humans to engineer some extremely innovative (and some ghastly) means of singular destruction. 

Didn't see that coming...

The fly swatter - This thing is a work of bloody genius. I remember the introduction of the fly swatter to me as a young kid, and it totally blew me away. All those years of fruitlessly slapping our hands together, sometimes knocking items over, and in comes this harmless looking spatula that is a 100% times more successful. 

It took me some time to understand that not only does the partly flexible design help the swatter act like a whip aiding a quick and sharp swatting action, but its pores also create a suction which draws in the fly during approach. Imagine the WTF moment this must have caused for the first fly who bore the brunt of this. And since I don't really believe flies have a very organised social system wherein they would discuss threats to the species, the fly swatter would have been the cause of last minute bewilderment for a lot of flies.

Game. Set. Zap.

The bug zapper - Nothing, however, compares to the brutality of a bug zapper. Have the PETA ever spoken against this? I am not sure, and I am amazed considering how some of their concerns are rather ludicrous. This device is pure evil.

It's the fly equivalent of getting the chair. And although I have personally relished being Sampras and Sauron rolled into one, and zapping a whole school of flies in one go, it is disturbing that that has been recreation for a lot of us. 

There's the big box version of this too replete with purple-white tube lights - the metallic Mareech who draws the playful flies with its glittering appeal and then becomes their nemesis. 

Unaided assault

What if you do not have any of the above devices and are infuriated, annoyed and almost over the edge with that one single fly zooming from one corner to the other? There is hope. However, first you must breathe. Rash swatting hardly ever wins over a housefly. 

There are a few things one needs to be careful about. Flies, as mentioned earlier, have a heightened sense of perception (as they are seeing things in slow motion) - so, a change in lighting is sure to be sensed. This fact is useful in determining the direction of approach especially in unaided palm attacks. The diagram here shows what to and what not to do.

What else? Remember, thanks to their perception of time, the fly is a fraction of a second ahead of you. So, you do not plan to kill it at t = t* (where t* is the moment of impact) but at,

t = t*+α where α is ~1/30th of a second

Contrary to common perception, flies travel at 4-5 km/h which is ~1m/s, so this amounts to covering 3-5 cm of the region around impact.

If all this math fails, our last resort is to call Vidya Balan and let her talk the flies into submission.

Movie Review : Udta Punjab (2016)

Release date: 17th June 2016
Director: Abhishek Chaubey
Rating: 4.25/5

Hardly does a movie come with the burden of expectations that Udta Punjab carried on its shoulders. And though this might not be counted among the greats, it is definitely a movie that will be remembered for some time to come. A well knit plot, rock solid performances, hard-hitting sequences and a very vivid message - Udta Punjab is more a well-done project than a film-maker's creative whim.

The story revolves around the lives of four young individuals - eventually melting into each other, thanks to the drug menace in Punjab. A drug-crazed pop star, a Bihari immigrant girl who unwittingly falls in a drug trap, an ordinary policeman who resolves to fight the system from the inside and a doctor specializing in rehabilitation who becomes his aide.

Abhishek Chaubey, with the likes of Ishqiya & Dedh Ishqiya under his directorial belt (and a slew of others as a writer), does a fantastic job of bringing alive the Punjabi heartland. There are characters and episodes thrown here and there who are very believable, and even manage to evoke a few laughs in an otherwise dark subject - without being over the top (SRK in Rab ne bana di Jodi is what I call 'over the top'). 

The performances of the four leads are immensely commendable. Shahid amazes once again with a maniacal portrayal of Tommy Singh. His roles in Kaminey, Haider and now in this movie show how he can bring his mad-game on - a persona that is quite in contrast to his real life image. Alia delivers another gem and it is beyond brilliant how she pulls off this pitiable, de-glam role with as much elan as she jives with to 'Saturday Saturday' and 'Chull'. Diljit and Kareena's portrayal is as heart-warming as their story in the movie, and one can only hope we see the pair in an out and out romance sometime soon.

It's remarkable how some of the new age directors are able to sketch characters not as much through episodes/ incidents but through long sequences of them reflecting in their loneliness. This helps a lot in the way one connects with the turmoil going through the head of both Tommy and Alia.

All this is superbly complimented by a fabulous background score. Amit Trivedi's compositions are mesmerizing as always. From the trance beats of Udta Punjab, the playfulness of Da da dasse to the soulfulness of Ik Kudi, his music is as contextual as it can be without losing his trademark flavour.

Hats off to everyone in this movie for handling such a controversial issue and doing it successfully. 

Walking, Fast and Slow

I think I was in the seventh grade at this time.

I was walking from one end of my school to the other. We were days away from some school event and there were a lot of 'things to do'. Suddenly, I had this impulse to jog, and when I say jog, I mean more of running lightly than walking quickly.

My mind quietly told me that jogging, instead of ambling along, could actually turn out to be a time saver. It almost sounded ridiculous to one part of me but I jogged nonetheless.

Over the years, this turned into quite a habit. And I am anything but an athlete. Let me try to define this whim of mine. I jog when traversing a path from A to B such that,

distance (A, B) <= 50 meters.

An incident last year bore testimony to how deeply rooted this habit was. I had barely recovered from a knee dislocation and was standing at my table when someone called out to me. Subconsciously, my limbs commanded me to sprint. I almost tripped before my voluntary controls took over and slapped my reflexes shut.

Cut to yesterday. In one of those reflective shower moments, I found myself asking, "Could this really save any significant amount of time, ever?"

A depleted Android pedometer app and good old Google came in handy to look for an answer.

My pedometer tells me I register ~5000 steps on an average working day (I am discounting weekends for this exercise since walking activity is bound to be more erratic on those days). I can be sure I do not have my phone on me for ~20% of my walking trips on the office floor.

Therefore, average steps per day = 6000

* assumptions/ facts in blue, calculations in black

I am assuming I can (and do) jog half of the times I need to displace myself. So, our calculation base will be 3000 steps.

Average comfortable walking speed of an individual = 3 kmph (this is stated to be 5 kmph here but my experiments with a pedometer point towards this average)

Moderate jogging speed (that which looks socially acceptable) = 5 kmph (lower end of what the internet calls as jogging speed)

Average step size = 70 cm (some adjustment done)

Thus, Distance traveled = 3000 * 70 / (10^5) = 2.1 km

Time saved by jogging = (2.1/ 3 - 2.1/ 5) hrs = 17 mins

Weekdays in a year ~=  250

Time saved in a year = 250 X 17 = 4250 mins = 71 hours

To put this into perspective, let's see what use I could put these additional hours to.

• Indulge in a marathon of the seven seasons of Game of Thrones. Nah, I haven't and I don't want to watch the Game of Thrones. BOOM. There, I said it.
• Go around 3/80th of the world if I were Phileas Fogg.
• Spread these 4250 minutes cautiously over the entire year and snooze the alarm by 10 mins every frickin' day!
• Watch Jo Jeeta Wahi Sikandar 24 times, which is still five short of the number of times I have seen it already
• Play Justin Bieber's Baby 1140 times on loop which is merely 1,391,730,521 times less than the number of times it has actually been played on Youtube.h

Or, write about 140 of such pointless posts!