Lady Luck had taken an instant dislike to Jane from the moment she was born.
A series of complications ensured she plopped out of her mum prematurely, resulting in being trapped in the incubator for a good couple of months. Then followed a series of incidents that can only be put down to pure bad luck. A sleepy nurse had handed her to the wrong parents; as a result, she had grown up with an alcoholic father and a bulimic mother.
Jane was almost always picked last in school for games owing to her small frame, was a wallflower when it came to parties, and being underdeveloped at seventeen ensured she still hadn’t gotten her first kiss yet.
Jane ran away from home at nineteen, hooked up a ride with a some hippies and, when their truck was stopped by a policeman for speeding, was promptly arrested along with the group for drugs and whatnot. Lady Luck perhaps decided to throw the poor kid a bone here, since the policemen who took the hippies in gave Jane a once over, checked her belongings, and told her to get the hell out of there before they changed their collective minds.
The first town she chose had a sleepy little population of 400 people.
Prosecutors would later argue that the murders started exactly two days after she entered town.
Jane just smiled.
Tuesday, 29 May 2012
Thursday, 24 May 2012
Tsongmo Lake: Sikkim Diaries
Having visited Gurudongmar Lake at 17100 feet, anyone would think Lake Tsongmo would be a piece of cake. At least, we did. And we were wrong.
Tsongmo Lake is around 40 kms from Gangtok, and stands at a proud 12,400 feet above sea level. The road is treacherous, and that is if you can call that a road at all. Frequent mudslides in recent times have caused the road to be really bumpy, and if it rains even slightly, it gets muddier than a mud hill.
That said, almost all drivers there are experts at navigating this road; they know each nook and cranny, and they know each bump and turn. So fear not if you are not able to view the road because a huge cloud decided to make its presence known just then - the driver will just race into and past the cloud without blinking an eyelid.
Anyway, finally, we were there, we had our rubber boots on, and we were making the tricky little climb up the slope from the parking lot to the lake when, suddenly, our nostrils were assaulted with a strong, overwhelming smell of poop.
The next minute we were face to face with the yaks. The yaks are there duly earning their daily bread and studiously pooping it all back. For a few hundred rupees you can have a yak carry you around the lake and get you back to where you started. Unless you're a raging lazybones who is simply not bothered to make the 1km walk, I wouldn't recommend riding the yak - firstly, you won't be able to enjoy the view of the lake because you're holding on tightly to the yak and trying not to fall; secondly, the yak smells so bad that you frankly can't wait to get the ride over with.
We stepped gingerly onto the snow; the first few yards the snow was completely brown in color, and by this point I am sure you know the reason why. I was reminded of Calvin somehow - maybe because brown snow is just the kind of thing he loves.
Slowly, slowly, as we made our way up towards the lake we could see the pristine landscape taking shape.Oh, it is beautiful! The stark black and white landscape, coupled with the crowd in their colorful sweaters screaming with excitement made for a really pretty setting.We spent a lot of time throwing snowballs at each other, sliding in the snow, and basically acting like children.
Everyone had this huge patch of wet on the back of their pants - the result of trying to slide down. Aw hell, we didn't mind! The only thing we minded were our wet gloves which we heedlessly used to make our snowballs - they didn't dry for several hours.
After a couple of hours of crazy time we came back, returned the rubber boots, and sat down for some yummy wai wai noodles. It was the perfect end to a perfect day.
No wait, we then went to the Institute of Tibetology, and were looking at books at their in-house store when the lady in charge told us there was a huge snake loitering inside somewhere, and would we please keep an eye on our legs from time to time. But that's another story for another day.
 | |
| Road to Tsongmo Lake. Piece of cake. |
That said, almost all drivers there are experts at navigating this road; they know each nook and cranny, and they know each bump and turn. So fear not if you are not able to view the road because a huge cloud decided to make its presence known just then - the driver will just race into and past the cloud without blinking an eyelid.
Anyway, finally, we were there, we had our rubber boots on, and we were making the tricky little climb up the slope from the parking lot to the lake when, suddenly, our nostrils were assaulted with a strong, overwhelming smell of poop.
 |
| "I just pooped all over this place. Hope that's okay." |
The next minute we were face to face with the yaks. The yaks are there duly earning their daily bread and studiously pooping it all back. For a few hundred rupees you can have a yak carry you around the lake and get you back to where you started. Unless you're a raging lazybones who is simply not bothered to make the 1km walk, I wouldn't recommend riding the yak - firstly, you won't be able to enjoy the view of the lake because you're holding on tightly to the yak and trying not to fall; secondly, the yak smells so bad that you frankly can't wait to get the ride over with.
 |
| Pictured: Heaven. |
We stepped gingerly onto the snow; the first few yards the snow was completely brown in color, and by this point I am sure you know the reason why. I was reminded of Calvin somehow - maybe because brown snow is just the kind of thing he loves.
Slowly, slowly, as we made our way up towards the lake we could see the pristine landscape taking shape.Oh, it is beautiful! The stark black and white landscape, coupled with the crowd in their colorful sweaters screaming with excitement made for a really pretty setting.We spent a lot of time throwing snowballs at each other, sliding in the snow, and basically acting like children.
Everyone had this huge patch of wet on the back of their pants - the result of trying to slide down. Aw hell, we didn't mind! The only thing we minded were our wet gloves which we heedlessly used to make our snowballs - they didn't dry for several hours.
After a couple of hours of crazy time we came back, returned the rubber boots, and sat down for some yummy wai wai noodles. It was the perfect end to a perfect day.
No wait, we then went to the Institute of Tibetology, and were looking at books at their in-house store when the lady in charge told us there was a huge snake loitering inside somewhere, and would we please keep an eye on our legs from time to time. But that's another story for another day.
Wednesday, 16 May 2012
Pig hooey!
Is George Orwell's Animal Farm coming true or what!
Pigs are apparently causing havoc in a Chennai neighborhood - they've chosen a cozy vacant lot that belongs to the government (ha!) and started breeding like rabbits. Right now their number is about 50-odd, and they come out in a herd during the evenings and terrorize the residents. 50 pigs running around in the street, oinking all over the place... yes, reason enough to run for cover.
The town I grew up in boasted of many stray pigs strolling around like they owned the place, but never has anyone been afraid of them! These mutant monster pigs have reached a point where they're attacking stray dogs (!) and biting golfers, and the question we need to ask ourselves is, what next? Chickens flying around pooping on our heads?! :-|
What the hell is happening?!
Pigs are apparently causing havoc in a Chennai neighborhood - they've chosen a cozy vacant lot that belongs to the government (ha!) and started breeding like rabbits. Right now their number is about 50-odd, and they come out in a herd during the evenings and terrorize the residents. 50 pigs running around in the street, oinking all over the place... yes, reason enough to run for cover.
The town I grew up in boasted of many stray pigs strolling around like they owned the place, but never has anyone been afraid of them! These mutant monster pigs have reached a point where they're attacking stray dogs (!) and biting golfers, and the question we need to ask ourselves is, what next? Chickens flying around pooping on our heads?! :-|
What the hell is happening?!
Tuesday, 15 May 2012
The Long Dark Tea-Time of The Soul - Douglas Adams
(Might contain some spoilers)
The Story
Strange things are happening in London. Police are baffled by a mysterious death - a man is found dead in a room, all doors and windows securely locked from the inside. The police would gladly term it as suicide; only, the man's neatly severed head is sitting a few feet away.
Around the same time, an explosion at a check-in counter of Heathrow airport has the authorities puzzled - no one has gotten seriously hurt, and there are no explosives to be found at the place that would actually explain how the explosion happened.
Dirk Gently, holistic detective and lazy bum, decides to look into the matter.
Just so you understand what kind of detective you're dealing with here, let us get to know Mr. Gently better, shall we? It has been a full 3 months since Dirk has opened his fridge, and, afraid of what unspeakable things might be taking life inside, he opts to throw it out and buy a new fridge instead. If Dirk Gently's in his car heading someplace and needs to ask for directions, he doesn't. No sir. He just chooses a car that looks like it knows where it's going and follows it.
So, anyway, Dirk Gently starts his investigation and runs into Kate Schechter.
Kate Schechter has gotten herself involved in the matter purely by an unfortunate coincidence. She is waiting at the check-in counter for her Oslo flight, minding her own business, when she notices the man before her is being impossibly obtuse. First, he doesn't have a ticket; when the check-in girl asks him to buy a ticket, he doesn't have the cash; he opts to pay by cheque instead, and gets deeply roused when the check-in girl tells him they don't accept cheques.
On the verge of missing her flight, and exasperated beyond endurance, Kate offers to pay for his ticket, and will he please write the cheque over to her –
At this point he thoughtfully replies he doesn't have a cheque book. Kate pays nevertheless, but the last straw is when the girl asks for his passport and he slowly replies he doesn't have that one, either.
Kate walks away then leaving the man and the check-in girl to argue in peace, and moments later the explosion happens. The obtuse guy happens to be none other than Thor, the God of thunder and a lot of other things, as he introduces himself to Kate at a later stage (unfortunately for him, when she’s in a foul mood) –
The plot also includes Odin, Thor's dad, Toe Rag, Odin's weasly side-kick not unlike Gollum of LOTR fame, a green monster, and a couple of others who are unimportant, so I've forgotten their names.
You've got to read the book to uncover the mystery of the death, the explosion, and other things - it wouldn't be fun if I wrote everything here.
My Take
Douglas Adams had already wowed me with The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, so when my husband suggested reading The long Dark Tea-Time of The Soul, I didn't need to think twice. Since Douglas Adams had already achieved perfection with The Hitchhiker's Guide, I consciously had somewhat low expectations from this one. I was pleasantly surprised - he dealt with the serious topics of death and explosions and father-son relationship strain with due respect, and he had me in splits at the same time.
Some parts of the book are particularly funny. At one point along the way, Dirk picks up a newspaper and turns to the horoscope page, and reads his horoscope for the day -
The horoscope for that paper is written by The Great Zaganza, an old friend of Dirk’s who knows his birthday :P
Whatever his plot might be, Douglas Adams manages to infuse a hilarious riot of humor into all his lines. The only complaint I have with this book is, he ended it much too abruptly. He could easily have gone on for another 50 pages or so without boring anybody, but he chose instead to end it with an abruptness that must’ve surprised him as well.
If you found the plot and the story gripping, go ahead and read the book. If you haven't - well, read it anyway because it is so awesome :D
The Story
Strange things are happening in London. Police are baffled by a mysterious death - a man is found dead in a room, all doors and windows securely locked from the inside. The police would gladly term it as suicide; only, the man's neatly severed head is sitting a few feet away.
Around the same time, an explosion at a check-in counter of Heathrow airport has the authorities puzzled - no one has gotten seriously hurt, and there are no explosives to be found at the place that would actually explain how the explosion happened.
Dirk Gently, holistic detective and lazy bum, decides to look into the matter.
Just so you understand what kind of detective you're dealing with here, let us get to know Mr. Gently better, shall we? It has been a full 3 months since Dirk has opened his fridge, and, afraid of what unspeakable things might be taking life inside, he opts to throw it out and buy a new fridge instead. If Dirk Gently's in his car heading someplace and needs to ask for directions, he doesn't. No sir. He just chooses a car that looks like it knows where it's going and follows it.So, anyway, Dirk Gently starts his investigation and runs into Kate Schechter.
Kate Schechter has gotten herself involved in the matter purely by an unfortunate coincidence. She is waiting at the check-in counter for her Oslo flight, minding her own business, when she notices the man before her is being impossibly obtuse. First, he doesn't have a ticket; when the check-in girl asks him to buy a ticket, he doesn't have the cash; he opts to pay by cheque instead, and gets deeply roused when the check-in girl tells him they don't accept cheques.
On the verge of missing her flight, and exasperated beyond endurance, Kate offers to pay for his ticket, and will he please write the cheque over to her –
"My name is Kate Schechter. Two 'c's, two 'h's, two 'e's, and also a 't', an 'r', and an 's'. Provided they're all there the bank won't be fussy about the order they come in, they never seem to know themselves."
Kate walks away then leaving the man and the check-in girl to argue in peace, and moments later the explosion happens. The obtuse guy happens to be none other than Thor, the God of thunder and a lot of other things, as he introduces himself to Kate at a later stage (unfortunately for him, when she’s in a foul mood) –
"I am Thor. I am the God of Thunder. The God of Rain. The God of the High Towering Clouds. The God of Lightning. The God of the Flowing Currents. The God of the Particles. The God of the Shaping and the Binding Forces. The God of the Wind. The God of the Growing Crops. The God of the Hammer Mjollnir."
"Are you?" simmered Kate.
You've got to read the book to uncover the mystery of the death, the explosion, and other things - it wouldn't be fun if I wrote everything here.
My Take
Douglas Adams had already wowed me with The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, so when my husband suggested reading The long Dark Tea-Time of The Soul, I didn't need to think twice. Since Douglas Adams had already achieved perfection with The Hitchhiker's Guide, I consciously had somewhat low expectations from this one. I was pleasantly surprised - he dealt with the serious topics of death and explosions and father-son relationship strain with due respect, and he had me in splits at the same time.
Some parts of the book are particularly funny. At one point along the way, Dirk picks up a newspaper and turns to the horoscope page, and reads his horoscope for the day -
"You are very fat and stupid and persistently wear a ridiculous hat which you should be ashamed of."
Whatever his plot might be, Douglas Adams manages to infuse a hilarious riot of humor into all his lines. The only complaint I have with this book is, he ended it much too abruptly. He could easily have gone on for another 50 pages or so without boring anybody, but he chose instead to end it with an abruptness that must’ve surprised him as well.
If you found the plot and the story gripping, go ahead and read the book. If you haven't - well, read it anyway because it is so awesome :D
Monday, 7 May 2012
I suddenly realized...
that Gimli the dwarf from the Lord of The Rings saga was once Sallah, Indiana Jones's friend!
 |
Friday, 4 May 2012
Gurudongmar Lake: Sikkim Diaries
To put it quite bluntly, Gurudongmar Lake is the Big Daddy of all lakes.
It stands on a really cool altitude of 17100 feet, a feat very few other lakes can boast of. It is considered sacred, so people cannot really go and take baths and do other unspeakable things that the other lakes have to endure. Oh, and yeah, you can't find any kind of vegetation around the lake; not a single plant, not a single bush. The land there is as barren as a slate. It is all mud and stones, my friend. Plus the occasional block of muddy ice.
The Journey
The road from Lachen to Gurudongmar is like an ever winding coil of rope, and the Avomin tablets weren't helping; within an hour into our journey I started retching violently and puked my guts out. This delightful episode repeated itself a couple of times, and thankfully, as a result, I went into a weakness-induced sleep that I did not come out of till we reached the lake.
We were mid-way when the driver told us that if I felt any worse we were to turn back; the pukes could be the result of me not being able to adjust to the altitude. He grimly pointed out that first-aid options at the Lake would be minimal, and if any of us had even a headache, we were to turn back immediately or it would get real risky, real soon.
The Lake
The lake is pure awesomeness. You could sit there for ages, just marveling at the picture before you - a perfectly blue, cloudless sky (the clouds are all around you), a beautiful frozen lake, snow covered peaks, and the utter serenity of the place renders you almost speechless. We didn't have much time though - barely enough to glance around and take it all in, and yes, just enough to click a couple of pictures.
The army
Within no time at all we were on our way back, and I had to fight the urge to wave to the army guys as we passed. It was a new found respect I had for the army - braving such adverse weather conditions away from their families... not easy! Not to mention the Chinese border sitting prettily just about 3 kms away - as if the bitter cold and the scarce Oxygen weren't enough.
Getting there
We had to submit 4 passport photographs, along with our ID proofs and address proofs to get a permit to reach the lake. The army divisions there have strict rules about this, and a vehicle cannot pass beyond their checkpoint if the travelers are not prepared with these beforehand.
I can go on and on about this, but I see that this has become quite a lengthy post already.
It stands on a really cool altitude of 17100 feet, a feat very few other lakes can boast of. It is considered sacred, so people cannot really go and take baths and do other unspeakable things that the other lakes have to endure. Oh, and yeah, you can't find any kind of vegetation around the lake; not a single plant, not a single bush. The land there is as barren as a slate. It is all mud and stones, my friend. Plus the occasional block of muddy ice.
The Journey
The road from Lachen to Gurudongmar is like an ever winding coil of rope, and the Avomin tablets weren't helping; within an hour into our journey I started retching violently and puked my guts out. This delightful episode repeated itself a couple of times, and thankfully, as a result, I went into a weakness-induced sleep that I did not come out of till we reached the lake.
The Lake
The lake is pure awesomeness. You could sit there for ages, just marveling at the picture before you - a perfectly blue, cloudless sky (the clouds are all around you), a beautiful frozen lake, snow covered peaks, and the utter serenity of the place renders you almost speechless. We didn't have much time though - barely enough to glance around and take it all in, and yes, just enough to click a couple of pictures.
The army
Within no time at all we were on our way back, and I had to fight the urge to wave to the army guys as we passed. It was a new found respect I had for the army - braving such adverse weather conditions away from their families... not easy! Not to mention the Chinese border sitting prettily just about 3 kms away - as if the bitter cold and the scarce Oxygen weren't enough.
Getting there
We had to submit 4 passport photographs, along with our ID proofs and address proofs to get a permit to reach the lake. The army divisions there have strict rules about this, and a vehicle cannot pass beyond their checkpoint if the travelers are not prepared with these beforehand.
I can go on and on about this, but I see that this has become quite a lengthy post already.
Lachen: Sikkim Diaries
Our first destination after Gangtok.
Lachen is bitterly cold. From the minute I set foot in that place the mind-numbing cold was the only thing I was aware of. We settled in our hotel and, after we freshened up (another word for piling on extra layers of sweaters), went out for an evening walk. The walk was to get us acclimatized to the high altitude - we were standing at an altitude of roughly 9800 feet.
So, we started on our little walk, and within a short distance came to a shop. We could hear little cries of, "Tourists are here! Tourists!", as if we had come from another country, pockets jingling with gold coins. We bargained hotly for a pair of mufflers and woolen gloves but the kind lady in the shop did not budge even a little bit. She obviously knew when a person was desperate. We paid the asking price and walked away, tails between our legs.
Lachen is the stop for all Gurudongmar Lake aspirants. We left Lachen at 5AM the next morning. I cannot recall the journey from Lachen to Gurudongmar very much - I had a bad case of the vomits. (Thank you, Kolkata airport Subway!) After getting back from Gurudongmar Lake we rushed out of Lachen as fast as we possibly could, and headed for Lachung.
How else is Lachen historical, you ask? Well my friend, Lachen will forever go down in history as the place that made me long for the unbearable heat of Hyderabad.
Lachen is bitterly cold. From the minute I set foot in that place the mind-numbing cold was the only thing I was aware of. We settled in our hotel and, after we freshened up (another word for piling on extra layers of sweaters), went out for an evening walk. The walk was to get us acclimatized to the high altitude - we were standing at an altitude of roughly 9800 feet.
So, we started on our little walk, and within a short distance came to a shop. We could hear little cries of, "Tourists are here! Tourists!", as if we had come from another country, pockets jingling with gold coins. We bargained hotly for a pair of mufflers and woolen gloves but the kind lady in the shop did not budge even a little bit. She obviously knew when a person was desperate. We paid the asking price and walked away, tails between our legs.
Lachen is the stop for all Gurudongmar Lake aspirants. We left Lachen at 5AM the next morning. I cannot recall the journey from Lachen to Gurudongmar very much - I had a bad case of the vomits. (Thank you, Kolkata airport Subway!) After getting back from Gurudongmar Lake we rushed out of Lachen as fast as we possibly could, and headed for Lachung.
How else is Lachen historical, you ask? Well my friend, Lachen will forever go down in history as the place that made me long for the unbearable heat of Hyderabad.
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