Lost And Found.

Leafing through the pages of one of the most exciting and intriguing novels ( A girl on the Train, Paula Hawkins)  I read in the recent past, no sounds from the TV disturbed me, no aroma from the kitchen aroused my tastes and no beeping of continuous messages on Whatsapp caught my attention. I was engrossed into this thriller and nothing could bring me back from the world of “Rachael and Tom”. It was then that the feeling of nostalgia hit me and triggered a zillion thoughts in my head. 

As a kid, reading books was one of my favourite pastimes.  But as time passed, and as a ton of other things came up, reading, slowly and unknowingly fell on the back seat.  I remember reading through happiness and sadness, through joy and grief. The smell of a new book excited me and at a point, books and some peace was all that I needed to call my day a good one. Those dark evenings when my parents got me books from the library, my joy knew no bounds and those were my most priceless possessions.  I recall reading in buses, on my way to school, at home, while eating, forgoing my TV time to read and also before sleeping. 

Reading gave me a sense of thrill and it kept me occupied. As an idle child, I was not a very good company. My mother being an ardent reader and a loyal lover of books, she has always encouraged me to read. My first ever book was when I was in Grade 4 and it was a Famous Five series. Naturally, as a kid, this new practice of sitting in one place constantly, looking at  hundreds of words with no animation and graphic movements like the one in my cartoons, I was resistant. In fact quite resistant. But no playing with mothers, they know how to get things done. Especially mine, who cannot take NO for an answer, She got me the perfect mystery book, helped me begin, helped me continue and when I came to the last bit, since the book belonging to a mystery genre, I obviously couldn’t put it down, I needed to know the Invisible thief. I did it and there was my mom beaming with joy. Her daughter had completed an entire story book and most importantly enjoyed the process. And after that, no stopping me. All I did was to read, and at such a pace that I finished one book in one week. During my school days, I have the memories of gobbling lunch in 5 minutes and running to the library to get some reading time.

In the process of growing up, sadly I lost in touch with books and they were now strangers to me. Today, almost after a gap of 2 years (sadly!), I picked up a novel, and believe me it is one of the best feelings I have had. The activity of choosing from hundreds of books in a library, to carefully read its review and plot summary was an activity that took up almost half of my Sunday time. Last evening, when I had literally nothing to do, absolutely nothing: This long lost hobby came into mind. Luckily, with no traces of laziness in my body at that point, I immediately headed to the library.

It almost felt like an all new place to me. Having been there a million times earlier, the place felt new, the smell felt new and the idea of being in a library felt new. Unusually, yesterday it had an eerie, forlorn atmosphere because I know it is generally bustling with activity.  I was not quite happy with the thoughts going on in my head, but there’s no running away from those, is there? Feeling new in a place, I have once loved is not a feeling that I enjoyed very much. I was having a strong feeling of Monachopsis which wasn’t what I really expected.  Also, claustrophobia took up a large portion of my mind. No, it wasn’t the lack of ventilation. The library had huge rectangular windows that gave enough ventilation for that room. Deep in my heart, I knew what it was; it was the view of thousands of books before me and more books on the side and many more behind. I felt a feeling of resonant connection with the books there.  I could feel the unsettling awareness of my heartbeat.  I almost felt the guilt mounting up. Well, I honestly cannot explain my thought process at that moment. For an unknown reason, all I could feel was some pain and some guilt for having forgotten my most loved hobby.  That library had the strange feeling of wistfulness almost like a used bookshop, but I made sure it didn’t matter. I scanned through the books and spent a good time to pick up what I felt like. Funnily, I almost built up a hypothetical conversation in my mind, with those books of course.

Yesterday, the 16^th of July, at that library which was my place of obsession during my younger days, I vowed to myself, reading should never become a forgotten hobby once again and for the love of god, I never wanted to feel the way I felt amidst those books.

Picking up two books, I walked out happily, promising myself that I would come back again very soon.

Reading has always given me an irreplaceable joy and the contended feeling of completing a book, no words to explain those.

Escaping into the woods and beyond!

#Travel Diaries

Part 1.

My summers usually follow the same routine. During the first week of the vacations I generally have one movie date with my girl- friends and then we meet once more during the month long vacation. My entire friend circle being quite lazy, we find it extremely difficult to wake up and get our asses out of the bed. On the other hand, family trips are a very rare thing in my house; most of our summers are gone in contemplating where to go and how to go. I have been very much used to the tailored holidays I spend. The last time we took a family trip was about 2 years ago to Kerala which was of course phenomenal. But I will leave that travelogue for another time. Right now I have something more amazing and memorable to share!

However, this summer was quite different. No, not about the heat. It was as terrible as ever. I am mentioning about our vacation plan. Surprisingly, we had plans ready by April, tickets booked 2 weeks in advance, hotels booked way before the trip and we had company too.  Honestly, I felt weird as hell, because planned get aways were never our thing, and with both parents working, some quality family time is quite a thing! But somehow, this time we collaborated with three other families and decided to head to a jungle resort in Dharwad and then a road trip to Goa and Dandeli and back to Hyderabad.

Hesitation about the whole program was something I felt till I actually boarded the train. Of course, from then on it was all a happy phase. We and another family travelled together in the train to Hubli and then hit the roads for almost 2 hours to reach Dharwad, a place very much known for jungle resorts. Most of our road trip went in clicking pictures and loud chatter. All that I could think of was 3 days in a resort in the midst of a jungle, towards one side of your cottage is a lake and towards the other side a deep dense jungle. The thought got me jumping on my toes. My mind went for a toss and I just couldn’t stop imagining how it was going to be. 

Sai river view jungle resorts.

We finally reached the most awaited jungle resort, and trust me; the entrance to it was mind blowing. It was an extremely narrow road with trees and twigs and weeds and all of the other stuff that are found beside trees. We first had to walk through this path, very carefully and then get into a huge bamboo raft that took us into the jungle through the waters. The pleasant breeze, the sound of the water gushing, the slow movement of the raft and the swaying of the trees in the jungle, I could stay there forever. And good god, the view. Fog filled mountains that seemed to be touching the                                                                                          clouds and trees and trees till as far as you can see.

 A group of 15 members in such a place of scenic beauty, with no signals in our mobile phones, no internet, no practical connection with anything or anybody of the outer world, you can definitely imagine how it must have been.  To be honest, this was a good and much needed break from a lot of things and this vacation did me so much good.

River Crossing.

With water surrounding our cottages, we got to do a lot of water sports like Kayaking, Banana rides (which was for me the best ride, I can do it like a thousand more times), speed boat, water scooter and most importantly river crossing. Let me just illustrate this last one to you. Imagine hanging upside down over a 40 feet deep river pulling yourself from one side to the other. Terrific.  Till today, it was the best thing I have ever done. Really.  Of course I was dead scared and did not want to do it at the first place, but today I am so glad I did it. The amount of courage it gave me and the thrill I had after doing it, irreplaceable. Hanging above 40 ft. deep water and the fear of falling down any moment, that is what taught me that life could get over in any second. Just live the moment. Somehow, after that I was a different person to myself.  Of course with tons of perspective and excitement, this water sport also brought me an unbearable hand pain. Well, it’s not easy to hang upside down and pull yourself! To anybody, who is ever planning to take up water sports, do try river crossing.

With walks through the forest and occasional treks, some hot yummy soup on the bamboo raft in the middle of the lake and hilarious singing and dancing competitions, we never knew how two nights passed. It was time to leave to Goa, Well, before I move to that part of my travel, let me just say that this part of the journey was most phenomenal because life was entirely different there. 3 days to myself, no internet, no disturbing phone calls, nothing to complete and no deadlines to meet, it was all peaceful and calm and just as good as I ever wanted things to be. No complexities, no disappointments, nothing to worry about. The wheel just kept on moving smoothly. If I had the chance, I might even choose to stay back there for a long long time. But life doesn't work that way, does it?

The team. 

Wow. Now I have gone down the memory lane, and I am sure I am not coming back any time soon. So the other part of my travel should wait, maybe it will come up very soon as another write up!

To those who have accompanied me, CHEERS!  You are a part of my best memory and I am glad you were all a part of making it one hell of a trip. Today when I look back at all those pictures, I realized we thought we were just having fun, never realized we were making memories!

Chaotic Colours and my Choices.

It is that dreaded moment of choice, when you can feel the prick of stares slaying your back and the hair on your neck rise. Well, that is pretty much what happened to me when I was ganged up by the two toughest people to convince in my family, my very own grandmother and her very own sister. Assuming my summer trip to my home town to be fun filled and jolly, I was in for a shock.  What exactly does one do when you are shoved bundles of coloured cards into your face and are asked to choose one best colour to paint the exterior of your house? And what do you do when they subtly try to scare you by hinting tiny facts like, “I am not going to paint it again for 15yrs, choose carefully”, “Choose nice colours I won’t spare you if it’s odd”, “Make sure your mom and uncle would like it too, the last time I chose, they didn't".

 At that point it struck me, I was given the responsibility that once my mom took up, and another time my uncle. Now it was my turn and I had to do what I dread the most. CHOOSE (which I absolutely suck at.)  Facts show that a normal human being finds it awfully difficult to choose amongst the things he likes, be it clothes, materials, food etc. And to prove this point wrong I have tried to choose food from the menu card every time I have been to a restaurant, but In vain. I end up ordering just the same food I order each time.

But May 3^rd, 2016 was different. I was choosing exterior wall colours for our house. No guys, I am not being silly neither did I freak out for no reason, I am trying to tell you that there are chances it can feature on the list of what one finds tough. Why don’t you give it a try? Of course none of us want to recall the nursery lessons on colours and their shades, but however, at one point of time most of us have to, and it is certainly that point when you hold the shade card of Berger/Asian/ or any other paints in your hand. Never in life, have I imagined that the existence of multiple colours can frustrate me. Yes, colours add joy to life, but the existence of their multiple shades, according to me, was only an artist’s confusion when he had to bring to life his work of art, until three days ago. I repeat until three days ago. This time I decided to do it, I decided to choose and make it happen.

Let me tell you, three days after that day,I am still trivially mocked at by a few, a victim of not so very cold stares from a few others and a receiver of mild appreciation from a few kind souls. Inducing an element of flashback here, let me take you back to the events that occurred after I was shoved the colour cards.

The moment my eyes witnessed about ’50 shades of colours’ I kept my cool, and chose the three best ones, and without a second thought brought samples of each of those. Ignoring every ounce of criticism that came my way, the buying, the testing, and the confirming happened in a day.  Yes, you guessed right, I had people telling me that it didn't look good, and that bad just begins to describe it. But this time, I choose otherwise, my choice is the choice. With the responsibility streak I was having, I bought 20 litres of paint and asked the painters to begin work. I should have noticed the perplexed look on their face, but I didn't. I should have paid heed to what my elders said, Nah, I didn't. I should have spent more time on choosing carefully, neither did I do that.

Work began. Colour looked awful. Phone blew up. 

The simplest description of my situation in the last three days.

Well, to every curious reader, I am not revealing the colour I chose, I wonder what was running on my mind when I decided to finalize it. For the next years it’s clearly going to be the brightest coloured house in the neighbourhood and for eternity and for generations to come this is going to remain. Somehow it makes me proud, but also a little guilty for having chosen the worst colour.

Choosing between a group of things has never been my thing. I can’t choose between important things such as best friends, vital things as food and trivial things as colours.  Who imagined exterior wall painting can turn to be my headache?

Well, for now it is done. This might be the most petty thing I might ever write down, but to everybody who is reading this; it ate up my mind for a good three days.

Meghana. Lanka

Dreams that matter!

May 1st, 2016- Like any other day I woke up early in the morning and proceeded with my regular routine, scanning all the social media apps on my mobile. Everything was absolutely fine, the regular pictures and statuses on Facebook, annoying good morning Whatsapp texts from relatives and some very interesting snap stories on Snap chat, everything absolutely fine,  until I opened Instagram. The first post I saw, I learned that my only favourite celeb and the only person I ever go gaga about – Virat Kohli was in Hyderabad the previous day and that too, in a place that is just 3kms away from my house. Boom!! That’s when I sat upright. In a regular situation, this write up would have been about how happy or how excited I was to have met “Virat Kohli”, but quite annoyingly, I chose just yesterday to travel to my home town.

To all those who know me, they are all quite aware that I have always wanted to meet him and they have all left no stone unturned to make me feel excited about the idea. (including inserting images on birthday cakes)

And to all those who don’t you would have very surely understood by now.

It was during the World Cup of 2008, that I first saw Virat play, and since then I have always been an ardent fan. Dedication and commitment has always appealed to me and that’s one of the biggest reasons I absolutely adore Virat Kohli. Most of the cricket maniacs would know his stunning performances and match winning knocks. Honestly, as a game cricket never interested me very much, till I saw this young player show his mettle on the pitch. Stories about his vice-captaincy, his World cup victory as the Under 19 champion, the tri-series 2012, Asia Cup and tons of others. From being an amateur player once upon a time in the team to becoming the youngest player to score 25 ODI (One day international) hundreds is most certainly a commendable feat.

I can keep bragging on and on about his achievements but today what caused me to write this is the extreme disappointment I experienced when I missed the chance of meeting him. 4 months back when I was in Delhi on a college trip, I remember getting excited just because I saw his house and that day I promised myself that I would meet this man someday. And this morning it all came back in a flash.  With all the pictures he clicked with a few lucky fans, my news feed was filled with Virat’s visit to Hyderabad.

Had I stalked his social media profiles day in and day out, I would have surely known about this, and had I inculcated the habit of checking for the schedule of the IPL matches rather than depending on my brother(who generally gives last minute info), I would have known that his team is scheduled to play in Hyderabad. To the anger and disappointment that ran through every drop of blood in my body, and to every source of outlet I chose for it, be it my friends or my parents, so far this has been the best platform to vent.

Exactly like 4 months ago, today once again I promise to myself, there shall be a day when I meet this man and when I am going to write in this same blog, the amusement and excitement of that experience. 

P.s: Biggest thanks to the few who tolerated me today. After all, like in the movies, hardly can I stalk him. That only Gaurav (Sharukh in the movie FAN) can do!

GIVE ME WAY!

It is when the sounds of continuous horns still ringing in your head, while you are having a peaceful shower after a tough expedition from Panjagutta to Kukatpally, that you have surpassed all forms of traffic, tolerated a variety of people who have no clue how to drive and yet are on the streets, and have taken way too much smoke into your nostrils. It is then that you have learnt the ultimate art of driving through the roads of Hyderabad.

Hyderabad? Well, yes. I just described what it is to drive in the city of Nizams. To every Hyderabadi, I am sure this write up relates strongly to the most familiar aspects of your daily life, but to every non Hyderabadi, brace yourselves to read the plight of a common citizen and her muddle with traffic.

When I moved to Hyderabad in 2004, all I heard about this city was its grandeur, its history, its splendid tourist destinations and of course, the lip smacking food.  Yes, that is what perfectly describes the city of Salarjung, but if someone asked me today, apart from these, and probably the first thing I would mention would be “Traffic”. But why hasn’t anybody mentioned this to me back then? Maybe at that point of time, to people traffic was almost nonexistent and merely a trivial thing. Those were good old days when roads were free and less crowded and those were good old days when people used public transport.

Today in 2016, traffic in Hyderabad is what one dreads to the core! As I was driving back home from a hectic day of work today, all that I could do was crib about how things were and secretly curse under my breath. There have been many instances when I just wanted to give up driving and sit on the side of the road, but then my safety? Well, that is another aspect altogether.

I keep wondering if it’s everybody, or just me? Am I the only one who finds millions of potholes on the road and am I the only one who has a problem with buses and autos stopping right in the middle of the road? With an experience of a year’s driving I could classify the different kinds of people you find on a road:

1.      The one who doesn’t know that an indicator exists and that he/she could use it. (well maybe, we should start planting hoardings requesting people to use Indicators)

2.      The one who decides to drive in the worst possible manner, but doesn’t realize that he could see into the rear-view mirror before doing so. (Well, maybe he thinks mirrors are just to see how one looks)

3.      Most annoying are the people who keep honking at a signal. (Next time someone does that to me, I have decided to educate him/her on traffic lights and tell them that red means STOP)

As a common citizen, I could go on rambling about what annoys me, but the most important thing would be to analyze what’s going wrong. For the last two years, I did use public transport for commute, and I thought that was the  most strenuous thing – the process- wait for a bus, board the bus, if you’re lucky you have a seat or have fun standing- adjust to the sudden brakes- bear with the conductor etc. But now I have second thoughts. Driving on my own certainly makes me feel independent, but nothing’s better than public transport.

With metro constructions on almost every road, the already narrow roads have become narrower.  Even after so much thought about this, I still have no clue about what can be done to reduce this. The amount of frustration I experience while I’m driving, I certainly do not want others to. In the last five years, it seems like the roads are being eaten up inch by inch.

After one of the toughest battles with traffic today, I have made up my mind, public transport is my choice!

I DID IT AT LAST!

Amidst the premiers of Game of Thrones and amidst nail biting IPL matches, amidst all kinds of excitements around the world and zillions of zeal and intensity to experience,  have you ever known someone who decides to cut off from all of that and, well, start a blog?

Well, there you go!

Meet me, Meghana Lanka.

The first words of my own blog, the initial excitement of a new name and my musings. What's more to celebrate an amazing beginning and a perfect day's ending. 

Beating the inhibitions of creating a blog for over two years, today I decided to make it happen. Today I decided to do what I have always wanted to, and today I have decided to make my musings meaningful.  The idea of creating an own blog has always been on my mind, however, on the back-seat. A constant visit to countless other blog sites and a regular write up on papers has always been a part of my daily routine, until a month ago, when I realized the thrill of writing for the digital media and having a strong web presence.

Like any other Mass Communication student, the language of English has forever been my panorama of interest, and writing, the only outlet for my ruminations.  For all I remember, I have been an obsessed fan of literature and poetry and of course with the wonderful teachers I had, I wasn't given an option but to love the language.   Who knew that Robert Frost’s Road Not Taken would give me a different perspective for life altogether, and who knew that even today, after 4 years of leaving school, Julius Ceaser would still remain my all-time favourite classics.

Today, although being quite a strenuous day, I decided to give up on an early sleep. Sitting all alone in my room with a bottle of chilled water, I chose to bridge the gap residing in my head, the gap between a new blog and my mind.  We often miss opportunity because it’s dressed in overalls and looks like work.

 After a thoughtful twenty minutes and a search through the various search engines of my mind, I decided to pay heed to my interior monologue and write upon the most clichéd first time writings – “the excitement of writing for the first time.”

Pondering at the last stage of this write up, I wonder why I didn't take this up earlier. I realize that this could have been a wonderful platform for all my lost thoughts. Today, nothing beats the excitement of this new found passion and all that I can hear is the voice of my inner soul, a voice that says, “Keep writing before it’s gone because weaving words should never be forgotten magic.”

Meghana. Lanka