Numbers, when put in right perspective, can speak wonders. And it is all relative. If US spending in Iraq war is told to be $ 300 Billion, we don't know whether it is too small or too large. But if we are told that US spending for Afghan control is $ 3,000 Billion, then we know what both mean.
Presentation is all that matters. Look at this graph for instance - what could this be a graph of, where there is a short peak every monday, peaks just before summer and winter breaks for kids, and a trough on Christmas?
Could be sales of anything. Pattern of any activity.
It actually is the pattern of breakups in the US. Most break ups happen just before holidays (so that partners can explore new and better avenues)! Break ups at Christmas would be cruel, and hence the trough. And regular fights over weekends lead to rise in breakups on Monday.
Interesting.
And the source - a study conducted on facebook status updates, which monitored 10,000 individuals in US during the year.
Now who does these kind of studies? Need to join that firm. Who should I send my CV to..
The blankness has a definite beauty and purpose. Dust swirls in all directions, the roads get choppy, and life indefinitely stretches uphill after Darcha. Road construction teams also multiply, while general conversations steer around weather and road conditions on the looming mountain passes ahead.
And suddenly, you reach a mirage – a crystal blue lake, compact enough to camp next to, even as a howling wind shreds the barren silence. At Deepak Tal, 16 km from Darcha, one is introduced to the concept of parachute tent dhabas that remain a hallmark of the Leh road. These temporary rest stops bloom at strategic locations, providing tea, snacks and much needed company along the bleak way. The next stop is Zing Zing Bar, where truckers check their vehicles before ascending Baralacha La (4890 m), a mean and mighty pass that sternly tests human integrity, as well as the durability of your bike.
A rough descent through crooked roads and a narrow, rocky chasm leads you into the Gorges of Pang, which is straight from the pages of a Tolkien fantasy.
32 km down, Sarchu is a bitterly cold overnight stop with numerous tents and dhabas at the state border.
Leaving Sarchu, one gets into J&K officially, and the scenery along this last lap to Ladakh is achingly spectacular. The road soon zigzags up 21 hairpin bends to form the Gata Loops, only to drop slightly at the immense flats of the curiously names Whiskey Nallah – a temporary truck stop with few dhabas also offering beds. At this point, life in comfortable Leh seems like an impossible reward. But it’s not over yet. A short but hard road takes you right up to the 5060 m Lachlung La offering views across the khaki colored mountains of the Zanskar range.
The journey to Leh has become one of the most talked about and most done trips of our generation and lifetime, and quite rightfully so. Starting from Kullu/Manali, the road trip is nothing short of a pilgrimage, with long waits for the great Himalayan passes to open; the punishing yet breathtaking terrain, and the gradual arrival at the destination – Leh, as oasis of succor in the bleak universe of desert mountains and rarefied air.
However, it’s not just the destination that matters. On this fabled route lie several villages and towns that deserve much more than a cursory gander, while being perfect enough to camp in for a night or two.
Since its discovery, Manali has greeted overlanders with its abundant greenery and exquisite scenery. A primary reason Indian tourists come to Manali is to experience their first snow on the mighty Rohtang Pass. 51 kms away, Rohtang Pass (3978 m) was not always the all season playground of the plain dwellers; pre historic folks in Kullu Valley believed that the world ended at the mighty mountains that the pass now spans across. Unexpected blizzards and landslides atop Rohtang have earned it its mystical name that eerily translates to “Heap Dead Bodies” in Tibetan.
Despite its formidable size and notoriety, Rohtang is one scenically stunning Himalayan Pass. On this natural watershed, the road curves and bends among evergreen alpine meadows, revealing eye level mountain views at sunrise, apart from the perpetual possibility of snow. In spite of its mythical character, Rohtang Pass remains an underrate pass among travelers on the road to Leh. But not for long, as you cross and see the parallel world it retains beyond its great barriers.
At the turn off point of Gramphu, to the east lies the Spiti valley, and to the north-west the Lahaul valley – a largely unexplored land steeped in an intoxicating blend of myth, beauty and extreme landscapes. A quick descent of 5 kms brings you to Khoksar. This small hamlet consists of little more than several dhabas, a police checkpoint and several warm hearted locals who willingly offer advice and aid on the onward journey. It’s a great place to tuck into a hot lunch by the waterfall.
Leaving Khoksar, the road splits across a hardened valley floor, with sheer cliffs dominating either side of the Chandra River. Sissu is revered for the temple of Lord Gyephang (the protector god of the Lahaulis), the Gyephang Peak and the famed hanging waterfall.
18 kms further is Lahaul’s biggest town – Keylong, set against a backdrop of brown hills and snowy peaks. The Bhaga River nourishes this side valley, roaring from its source in Baralacha La, and it is a pretty sight to see the willows on her banks. Keylong is the official overnight stop for travelers, and many stay back to explore. One can usually come across scores of happily hyper kids here.
Jispa, 22 km ahead, is a small village that is big on camping sites and trout fishing, thanks to its pleasant setting next to the Bhaga. There’s decent accommodation available, and locals cook up basic meals on request (read Maggi and Lemon Tea). From here onwards, trees start disappearing.
At first sight, Darcha appears to be an unpromising junction, but it’s the last permanent settlement, and the trailhead for a number of astounding treks into Zanskar and Leh. Barring the dhabas, there is no accommodation here. From here, the wooded greens of Lahaul fade into stark mountain terrain and the next set of trees will be seen in Rumtse, 80 kms from Leh.
It had been a while too. Recharging batteries was much needed, and hence I ventured on a solo trip on a bike to the countryside. The road took me all the way to Haridwar, one of the four locations where Kumbha Mela happens. And incidentally, it was on.
Predominantly, a sacred Hindu pilgrimage, Kumbha Mela is the largest spiritual gathering in the world. 'Kumbha' means 'pot' (with no handles) and 'Mela' means 'gathering' or 'fair'. Legend has it that at the beginning of creation, all the Gods were under a curse making them weak. Brahma (The Creator) advised them to retrieve the pot of immortality. The Gods sought the help of the Demons. During the battle to retrieve and possess the nectar, four drops spilled in four places: Allahabad, Haridwar, Nasik and Ujjain.
This auspicious coming together, takes place four times every twelve years at one of the four sacred places along the Ganga River, dependent upon the position of planet Brahaspati (Jupiter), the Moon and Sun.
This is what Mark Twain had to say after his Kumbh Mela experience in 1895: 'It is wonderful, the power of a faith like that, that can make multitudes upon multitudes of the old and weak and the young and frail enter without hesitation or complaint upon such incredible journeys and endure the resultant miseries without repining. It is done in love, or it is done in fear; I do not know which it is. No matter what the impulse is, the act born of it is beyond imagination, marvelous to our kind of people, the cold whites.'
Nevertheless, I went to Haridwar, took a holy dip, spent a peaceful night, noticed millions of devotees, understood why kids always separated during Kumbha Mela and continued on my journey.
On my way back, got into one of the most interesting discussions with strangers.
The sun was at its peak, and the clock showed noon. Tired of driving the bike continuously for a couple of hours, I chose to tread the bike on the fields instead of the metallic road. Saw a tree that reminded of my school days when we used to run in the cross country races across the fields. I parked the bike, and to my amusement, noticed that a group of farmers and villagers were also taking a break alongside from their routine ploughing of the fields.
I put my backpack and sat down beside them, striking a conversation around tilling the land, and the heat at this time of the year, and the rains, and the IPL, and future prospects of village kids. And when the topic of future prospects came, the grim faces of the elderly were evident. They were adamant that with the recent times, it is imperative that the kids of the village should go out and venture into the outside world. That they should stop staying in their cocoon and be bold enough to embrace uncertainty. According to them, success is not a matter of staying close to family and having a good time anymore, it is more a matter of how vastly one has traveled, how much money one makes, how many mobiles one has and the likes. I was just a silent spectator to all these discussions, and could hardly understand what they saw in the world outside. On the other side of the fields, I could see kids playing an IPL match of their own, unconcerned how concerned their elderly were, of their own wherewithall.
One of the elderly asked me if I was traveling for work; I nodded, which they took as yes. I chose not to correct them. They took me to be some kind of deliveryman who was traveling from one place to another, delivering some stuff. While they kept continuing with the discussions of how in city life, I have made a mark for myself and how earning a 20,000 per month salary will be the best thing to happen to their kids, I could hardly make out if I was really doing what I am meant to, and if I had ever made even an iota of mark for myself. Seeing a blackberry was like looking at the next big invention after wheel for them. And what amazed them was how the maps on blackberry can pinpoint one’s location to a few metres – one specific comment being, “kya humein bhi koi upar aakaash se dekh raha hai!” (Translation – Is someone watching us from heavens above?)
Two hours well spent, I picked up my bike and exchanged pleasantries. All the way back, all I could think of was, did I get what I hoped for, when I started this trip? Did I know what I wanted to find, when I started this trip?
A break well taken, time well spent.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
I've always thought of myself as the most patient person in the world. No, seriously. Just ask my ex girlfriends. (Kidding, ladies. Please don't kill me.) But I'm becoming really, as in really, cranky and short-tempered as of late and it's starting to worry me.
Anger. It bursts me at the seams.
Take this incident from this week, for instance. I was running late for work and I had to go through another astoundingly mind-numbing traffic rush enroute my office. There have been fables of casualties there, my car's many dents being regulars among them. Anyway, imagine going through a traffic stampede on a daily basis, plus having to deal with breakfast while driving and the whole gamut of pending phone calls. But I'm zen. Really, I am, not even when that zooming Scorpio stood in front of me and showed me, up close, how tiny I looked. So I push on the accelerator, still zen and shit and I get in line at the head at the traffic signal, when suddenly this rickshaw which has probably had ninja training had sneakily snuck himself in front of me and was acting like he did nothing stupid.
And that's when my zen bubble burst. I actually fantasized about getting out of the car, pushing him off the line and giving him an hour-long lecture on driving etiquettes and lanes and how I do not kill people who drive sane.
But in reality I was just standing behind him, glaring at him and finding a way to get him behind me again.
But yeah, I fail at anger management. I usually end up cranky lately which as we all know isn't a good thing. I really have to get to the bottom of this or I'll probably lose the six remaining friends I have. Then I'd have nobody to buzz at Gmail. Or Poke at Facebook. We wouldn't want that, would we?
Inside each and every one of us is our one, true authentic swing. Something we was born with. Something that's ours and ours alone. Something that can't be learned... something that's got to be remembered.
I am somehow having a "Newtonian" day, though Science is not my strong point - first, it was Pythagoras in the morning, when I noticed a triangular, weird looking calendar on my desk. It made me wonder why and how sum of sides' squares make up something related to the third side. (Yes, get the drift. I didn't study hard enough during school)
And now, while having tea, I noticed the tea leaves at the bottom and wondered why they assemble at the centre, and not on the outer edges. Centrifugal force should come into picture, thereby pushing the leaves to the sides of the cup. But to my wonder, it did not. I decided I get to the bottom of this (Pun intended!). Maybe, in course of doing this, I might end up discovering something radical - "Abhinav's theory of tea cups" shall we say! Hence, I turned to my trusted companion (Google) and thought I'll figure out why it happens.
Seems like Einstein uncle had better sense of tea. He already had studied this theory, and some blood separation technique is already based on this theory. I won't dump technical stuff here explaining why it happens - I'm devastated already that my attempt at making history (or science) goes in vain, and science will have to wait for some more time to capitalize on my discoveries.
There are some movies that make you feel good. Whatever be their genre, they always end up giving you a nice time. Then there are some movies ahead of their time, because of which they end up not doing good commercially, but you watch it a few years down the line, you get the essence. Will share the thoughts about the former in this post.
Right, so. Nora Ephron's creations have been above average. There was "Sleepless in Seattle". Then there was "You've Got Mail". And now there is "Julie and Julia". First two, most have seen and appreciated, so this post won't talk about them (will just mention that "You've Got Mail" used to be one of my favorites during post-grad. I could see the movie endlessly, and would have screened it more than 50 times in one year. Some phase, huh!
Anyways, continuing with J&J. A very sweet, simple movie, with no complications. Meryl Streep, as always, is perfect, and there is no reason why she should not get the Oscar this year (though I hardly end up watching Oscar nominated movies, but with years passing by, I have started to appreciate the beauty of these movies, which are full of complications, and yet Rx Oscars. One outlier, which I just could never understand Rxed an Oscar, was "No Country for Old Men' in 2008).
Meryl's "The Devil Wears Prada" again is one of those movies, which give you a flavor of the world which one sees in awe, without actually knowing what really goes on. Agreed, I haven't read the book, and I've heard the book is good too, but somehow I don't feel like changing my perception of the movie "The Devil Wears Prada". I never knew what fashion industry mean before I watched this movie (as if I know it now! But anyways.)
J&J is a movie that runs parallel across generations. Julia (Meryl Streep) and Julie (Amy Adams) share the common bliss - cooking. Julia's writing a book about it, and Julie's blogging (notice how Nora brings technology/internet as the focal point to connect today's generation - remember, You've Got Mail. And now J&J.). Julia is so cheerful and energetic, that I frankly haven't seen anyone - sure it's only a movie, but still. Julie is her counterpart. Julia is thoughtful, Julie obsessed. I think both complement each other very well.
I was talking to someone about this movie, when I was told that if only the movie had more about Julia's life and less about Julie's (or even none about her), the movie would have been better. But I somehow think without Julie, the movie would have been a dud. Sure Meryl is THE talented one, and brings life to the character, but the story actually has been brought alive by Amy. Her dedication, her obsession, her spirit, her will is what makes this movie special.
There's another movie I watched recently, "The Boat That Rocked". Released last year I guess. Now, I am not really that much into music. Yes, I do follow some, but I only follow what I follow. Very restricted. And this movie is based on how music brings about joy in people's lives. How it can become an obsession, or maybe a mild term would be dedication. Movie's about a pirate radio station stationed in the ocean on a liner, that brings joy to whole of the UK.
Nice watch, both "Julie & Julia" & "The Boat That Rocked". Good time guaranteed.
For many years, I was perfectly content, even relieved, to sit back and release the control and direction of my life to others. I found comfort in relinquishing personal responsibility and allowing someone else to take charge. The decisions, and consequences, no longer rested heavy upon my shoulders. I had no need to take care of myself as my trust and faith lay completely in those around me. When life reared its ugly head, I was comforted with the knowledge and acceptance that the driver would maneuver me to a place of safety. The more time that passed, the more control I relinquished to others, the less I trusted myself and the less I knew the boundary between my own life and those that were carrying me along for the ride.
In many ways, it was a comfortable way to live. It was the easy way. It was the only way I knew. Eventually, and gradually, I came to realize that life is not always easy and finding the most comfortable way is only guaranteed to impede any personal growth. I needed a driver and I was destined to be the passenger.
Years later, I look back on those times with mixed emotions. At times, I think back and long for the comfort of reassurances that “everything will be okay”. But I also look back and realize that where I stand today, and who I am today, is far better than being just “a passenger in my own life”. The journey is much harder now, the terrain much more treacherous at times. I no longer take the easy route, depending on others to guide me toward that illusory pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. In fact, it is often difficult to even see the rainbow these days. But when the rain stops and the clouds move away, when I look up and see the rainbow at the end of the storm, I know that the beauty I see is because I have chosen to look up and see it. I am no longer dictated by the direction of others, no longer dependent upon the reassurance that “everything will be okay”. The truth of life is that everything will not always be okay, but through the struggles, I will become stronger and in the end, I will be okay.
I like to be the driver these days. It’s frustrating and confusing and overwhelming at times, especially when the traffic is bad. But in each of the difficult moments, I remind myself that I am not a weak person and I grow a little bit more. Through frustration, I learn patience. Through confusion, I learn to seek clarity, to take chances, and to have faith in myself. And in those overwhelming moments, I learn that my own strength is far greater than I ever knew. Strength and hope and determination are the passengers that now accompany me. I am happy to no longer be “a passenger in my own life”.
