Long Road Out of Exile

".......It was books that made me feel,

          That perhaps I was not completely alone.
                   They could be honest with me,        

                              and I with them........"

                                             - William Herondale

“So what you are trying to tell me is that you stopped reading and writing because someone told you that it may interfere with your scientific paper writing?”

“Yes” I replied.

“That is the most stupid thing I’ve heard. And does this person know what it means to you?”

“Probably not. I mean I try to be honest with him and I trust him completely, but no he’s probably not aware of the therapeutic effects it has on me, both reading and writing.”

“Then I’ll correct myself. Because then it makes you a stupid person to have heed to an advice which doesn’t stand true to you.”

There was an interruption as a fellow senior colleague and friend came up to him and asked him, “Sir, the tea is ready, shall we serve it here?” **

“Yes”.

He took a sip from his tea. “Okay so where was I? Yes, reading of course. See I took a class on addiction yesterday, right? Now, when fictional book reading becomes an addiction, then you have something to worry about. When do you call it as an addiction? It is when reading interferes with your daily activity and at the expense of your work productivity. Is that how it is for you?

I can’t say so. It has never interfered with my work.

“Before you stopped reading how many books did you used to read?”

“May be one- one and half, in two months. Of course it was much higher during my masters and even more during my degree and High School period. I used to finish a book every 3 days. May be 2 in a week.You can call it addiction, Sir, but to me that was happiness.”

“I’m not calling it an addiction. I’m just wondering what damage has it done to your brain because you stopped reading. Tell me, has your productivity increased? Has your rate of scientific publishing increased?

“Umm. No. Not entirely. If anything it has made me feel extremely restless.”

“Yes. That is because the sub-conscious of your mind knows that it was a wrong decision. See you don’t have to read a fiction or non-fiction, or whatever you like, every other day. But once in two months is absolutely fine. And if anyone tells you otherwise, then they are ignorant.”

I smiled.

“No I’m serious. They may have the best interest in their heart for you but still it is a ridiculous advice since everyone is different and everybody have their own intake capacity. What reading means to you, may not be the same for him. You said ‘reading is therapeutic for you? It may not be so deep for him. For him it may be trivial, petty pleasure, but for you it may be something more profound, something more pertinent.”

“Sir, I’m aware he has the best interest for me. And it was only an advice. But I worry whether it was the correct decision on my part by paying heed to it?

“Yes, that’s what disappointed me the most. Not the advice but the fact that you followed it.”

He was quiet for about half a minute, gazing at the incoming crowd of scholars and budding researchers. The tea break was almost over and the participants were re-gathering for the pre-lunch session.

He resumed. “I remember you said on the first day, that you read Salinger. Is that correct?”

 I nodded.

“Now tell me what did you understand from it, what was your inference?”

“It’s a book with depth. It’s about the deepest darkest feelings of human mind and bringing them to light and finding solace or finding that one thing worth living for, worth fighting for. It’s about finding peace with yourself and within yourself.”

He looked at me for a moment. “See not everyone has the heart and mind and the depth to fathom Salinger’s writing. Yes it’s one of mine favorite book too. And it seems it has made an impression on you?

“Yes. You can say it compelled me to question mine decision to stop reading” I said with an apologetic grin.

“That’s what good books do. They expand your horizon, enrich your imagination and makes you think. Always makes you think. I think we should get back to the class I need to start the session……”

Sometime later that evening after the Valedictory function of the Workshop*** I caught up to him again.

“Sir, do you write? Do you have a blog that I could follow?”

He looked at me and it seemed to me he had lost the thread of the discussion we had earlier.

He replied, slowly, “I don’t get much time to write in my blog anymore. But yes it’s in Malayalam so I’m afraid you won’t understand much although I think you said you can read Malayalam.”

I smiled and nodded.

“Didn’t you tell me you stopped writing?”

I nodded again, this time a little embarrassed (possibly ashamed).

“Tell me what do you write? Stories? Poems?”

“Mostly non-fiction but sometimes stories and poems as well, depending on mood.”

“So why is it that you write? What makes you write?”

I looked up, surprised, a little taken aback and ended up smiling as the question took me back five years into my past, as those recurring cliches do, when a good friend of mine had asked this exact same question. Funny enough, I gave almost the same answer as I had given her all those years ago.

“Because I have to; because I need to get it out of my system; because if I don’t it, invariably, eats up me up from inside.”

He smiled.

“Then do yourself a favor and don’t stop writing.”

He was leaving, but before doing so he looked at me and the last thing he said was, “and give yourself some credit. In a world full of pessimists, you dared to be an optimist and yet wise enough to call yourself a realist….”

..............................................................................................................................................

Of course hindsight is a very powerful tool that we can use in our life. Especially because I didn't make out much of all that talk. When I think back to remember all that was said, what he said to me, it does seem like, what was said,  must have taken like an hour. But in reality it was hardly anymore than 7-8 minutes at best. 

I probably should have made out more from it than I did in reality.

It took me 3 more months to really understand what he meant. And I had been alone for a few days, reading another book (only one since Salinger's Caulfield) when it dawned on me the meaning of what he said.

I guess what he tried to tell me and what I ultimately realized from all that was- too much of something is never good. But giving up on something, (not illegal or harmful to you or others), that actually makes you happy, is almost a crime you commit unto yourself.  ☺️

And yes, since then I have been writing again. Not blogging that much unfortunately and in any case I don't think I ever had too many readers, and even fewer now, who'd still like to read what I have to say. 😜

Note- If there are book lovers out there who love reading books and are searching for something meaningful, something with quality then I would suggest A Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger. It's a classic, but not your regular, conventional classic. If you've already read then you know what I mean(t) and I'm proud of you. Growing up, as a teenager there have been a few fictional characters that have influenced me. But I've never read about anyone with a soul as conflicted, unnecessarily brash and broken as Holden Caulfield, more so because he's only 18! Nevertheless I won't spoil the story for potential readers.

** 'He' in this post is an eminent scientist of CMFRI. And I wish him a very happy retired life. And may be someday we will see your library in person.

*** The event was a Workshop that I had attended in July, 2018.

"If a body catch a body, coming through the rye......"

So Why Don't You Write Anymore?

Q. So why don't you write anymore?

A. Well I do. I write scientific articles for science journals. Plenty of them. In fact I can't quite remember, the last time I wasn't writing a scientific paper. But I am living in the hope that someday I'll have something productive to show for it.

Q. So why don't you write anymore?

A. I do. Or I did. I used to write a lot of informative non-fiction for online paid SEO's and IT Newsletters, mainly for the benefit of other people, over a year ago . I even used to get paid! But not too much. Very little, as a matter fact. I used to write a lot. But spending 3 hours for writing 5 articles and then getting paid only 150 bucks three times a week, resulted in brain drain, exhaustion and mental dissatisfaction. And if that wasn't enough you have to face the Team Leaders, Magazine editors and Blog Managers who would never be satisfied enough with the content and/or the number of articles. I love writing and I love these diverse writing platforms, but even the most desperate 'wannabe writer's' do not understand the supposed creativity (or the lack of it), precise productivity and utility of content writing.

Q. So why don't you write anymore?

A. I write emails. To scientists, journals, conference conveners, editors of scientific journals, editors of online magazines. On an average I probably write at least 1 email/day, which is probably not too much. But if anyone checked my draft folder they'll be shocked to see all those massive number of mails that were never sent and probably never would be. 

Q. So why don't you write anymore?

A. Trust me I do. I write inside my mind. My brain has already plotted some of the best stories and poems of our time. Some of the best suspense-thrillers, detective stories and even love stories (almost all of which were tragic love stories, where ends never meet) had been baked inside the incubator that is my deceptive brain. 

Did you just notice I said my 'deceptive' brain? The only problem with those stories were that they were concocted when I wasn't anywhere near to jotting them down and eventually missed out on the finer details. By the time I started writing them down I had forgotten most of them.

So, inside my head I've already won the Booker Prize, Edgar Prize and the Pulitzer prize for my award winning non existing novels. Too bad I don't even remember what they were about. 😉 😃  My brain really is quite deceptive. It can be extraordinary at best whenever need be or the most ordinary at its laziest when you expect the least.

Q. So why don't you write anymore?

A. I have. Not as much as I would have liked to, but I have. I have written quite a few bits and pieces. But I haven't posted them. I haven't published them. For writer's (and not just for fiction writing but for scientific writing as well) publishing or getting published is the most important act which generates that ultimate sense of closure. But every now and then I struggle with misinterpretation of my writing. What if they are not perceived and reciprocated the way I want them to be. What if the readers are judgmental. It's true that this fear of 'being judged by people who don't even know me properly' is something I deal with on a daily basis. And eventually my writings and especially, publishing and blogging suffers. 

So the question is, what's the point of writing if I don't want to publish?

Q. So why don't you write anymore?

A. I tried. Sometime ago my roommate and one of mine closest friend went home and I had the whole room to myself. And I had more than couple of weeks of solitude. Which, might sound selfish but, was awesome. It was a good time as any to write. To write endlessly about something, about everything; about universe, about life, about war, about crime, about mysteries, about love, about the most seemingly insignificant details concealing the most significant façades, and so on. But I didn't. There was so much to write about, so much to tell, and I didn't and I couldn't. 

I tried and failed.

Q. So why don't you write anymore?

A. I don't have the energy or patience, not anymore. I'm tired.

I used to be good at this. Words. They were all I had. Never was the best talker but always a decent writer. The written words were always louder, firm and resolute than my spoken ones. I'd like to think that I'm not that bad at it even now. But what's the point? I'm tired now. Words are not enough..

Q. So why don't you write anymore?

A. Because I don't want to. Because it's not right anymore. 

May be someday I would. Someday, when there are people who want to read what I have to say, when I know what I want to say, and they won't be judgmental. Someday, when people are not afraid to approach this awkward guy who doesn't talk much and say what they want to say and converse and voice their feelings and opinions instead of judge and criticize from a distance.

Q. So why don't you write anymore?

A. Because Life passed me by, while the pen stood still on the paper and the fingers remained unmoved over the keyboard ..................................................................   ... ..  ..   .

........................................................................................................................

[Few days back I found out an extremely talented writer and a fellow blogger, Abhijit Chakraborty of of Anonymous Writer, had been going through similar struggles. I'd have to say he's way more talented and creative plus he has been working in the IT industry for sometime, and we all know that life in IT could be extremely hectic. As a direct result of which his writing suffered. Of course you could say in contrast I've had it easy. But if there's something I've learned in these past few years is that nobody's suffering is lesser than anybody's. And the struggles he goes through, he's going through, turns out to be quite similar, except unlike me he's been quite vocal about them, in writing at least.]

[P.S.- I need to mention my senior, who on the course of these past six and a half-seven years has become a close personal friend and elder brother to me, who asked me repeatedly few months ago- "So why don't you write in your blog anymore?". I remember giving a vague answer to it, and summing them up by saying, "there are multiple reasons, lets not get into that". But he wanted hear those multiple reasons and all I could do was to change the topic. I have to say, unlike personal relationships, I have been lucky about true friends. They are too few in numbers (in lower single digits), but its not the quantity that matters, its always about the quality of friendship. 😉 ]

   

Lakeside Story

So a couple of weeks back I had to help out a fellow blogger friend of mine. Nowadays, she runs a heavy duty Lifestyle website, funded by a helluva lot of online ads and backed by a national weekly magazine. Her chief  editor wanted her to create a special February issue solely based on romance, romantic real life accounts and love poems, for obvious reasons 😝 (read as Valentine's Day special issue 😏). I hadn't published anything on her, erstwhile, blog for quite sometime (I haven't published anything on any blog for that matter, for a long time😅)and took her request for a Poem on Love as a mockery. It turned out that she was quite serious about it and explained her desperate situation, which could lead to removal of her as the blogger-in-charge of the site. I tried convincing her by repeated mails that I wasn't what you would call a 'romanticism enthusiast' and whatever I may write down it would never be perceived as romantic. However she didn't take no for an answer and as a result I had to rack my brain for anything remotely romantic that I can write or might have accidentally written at any point of time. 

One day while searching for some old documents in my laptop I stumbled upon something I had written about 6 months ago. I forwarded her that same poem after a few minor modifications. They posted it on their site (the writers of that website are not allowed to share their writings). Anyway, since then the website have changed their Valentines Day content and apparently I can share what I have written, but only if it is for my blog!

Recently she sent a thank you e-mail (which she'd do for every writer) in which she expressed her surprise about the poem and termed it as sweet, sad and romantic! 😝 Apart from the fact of its strange resemblance with a song, she asked quite a few questions. One of which was whether this was a personal story, whether this was an experience that I had? And I'll say the same thing that I told her, "I will neither confirm or deny it". I told her that it was just a feeling, and the person could be anybody. I actually quite literally meant it, but apparently she did not believe me!
After thinking about it I decided to share the poem in my blog. Although I know most of the regular readers have already forgotten about this blog, there are still a few people who've asked me quite repeatedly why I don't write anymore. They might enjoy this, and I'd like to hear their views on it.

Truth be told, the backdrop of the poem was inspired from the people I see and meet around in my campus and stories I hear and the events that unfolds in-front of mine eyes and is a testament to the lives that they live while they are in the university. So people in the the poem could be anybody or no one specific at all, just a work of fiction, depending upon what you chose to believe. 

(Characters depicted in this poem are a work of fiction and any resemblance with any people, living or dead, is purely co-incidental😄😄)

Lakeside Story

There was a girl used to look at me, on the marine campus street;

She'd walk by on her way to class and make the day seem so sweet.
I used to sit in a blistering lab - sometimes I'd even have a nap,
And when she'd go by - she'd light up the sky
Like the sun coming up.
She’d be standing by the lakeside – give me a look and glow,
I'd just sit n' watch her - getting on the bus and go.

I didn’t had her number – didn’t even knew her name
But wanted to climb on board that cross-town bus
Take a chance that she feels the same.

It's just another Lakeside story,
Everybody's got a tale to tell.
And like all those guys before me
I fell under her spell?

Some people you hold on to - some you just let go
Seems like the ones that you can't have
Are the ones that you want the most.
I think about her sometimes, wondering if it was real
And if I ever ‘meet’ her, I'm gonna tell her how I feel………… …….. …… ….. …   ..     .

It's just another Lakeside story,
Everybody's got a tale to tell
And like a hundred guys before me
I fell under her spell!

It's still the same old story - it's still the same old game
Down here on the Lakeside - life goes on the same.
She never knew my number – didn’t even knew my name
She climbed on board that cross-town bus and I never saw her again……………… L

It's just another Lakeside story,
Everybody's got a tale to tell.
And like a lot of guys before me
I fell under her spell.

It’s just another Lakeside story.……………………………………………………………………J

Saswata Maitra (25^th August, 2016)

P.S.- Personally though I dedicate this poem to each and every people I have encountered in my University Lakeside Campus and I believe every 2 out of 5 guys or girls who've been a part of this institution have similar such stories to tell which fortunately or unfortunately never find the words and are forever lost in their hearts.

Although I know it would be fairly hard, but I still hope to find a bit more time and post regularly in my blog. Cheers.. J

Being Anonymous

I have been a dreamer always, observing random people, staying absent minded, gaping towards the distant skies, deriving patterns from clouds, looking at birds flying in the sky. I feel a strange happiness observing flying birds, sensing the freedom of it all. Sometimes I wished I could fly, literally. I like doing strange things too, like smelling both old and new books, running my fingers over the tiny droplets that gather on a glass with cold water and melting a chocolate over my tongue before gulping it.

My mind is never quiet. Sometimes it makes me feel as if I am in a music video when I hear soft crooning melodies on my I-pod during a cloudy and windy September evening. It keeps talking to me always, about the books I should read, people I should meet, conversations I should have, things I should write, papers I should study, feelings I should have and a lot of other gibberish.

I can’t help but notice the little spark in the people I meet. Sometimes it might be their eyes, which hold a million dreams, their voices, which contain a million unspoken words, or their smile, which is a gateway to their soul. I love moving beyond the mundane conversations to explore their dreams, their aspirations and their perspective about life. I have had heart to heart conversations in the middle of chaos too. But somehow I can never initiate a conversation on my own, especially with people I know only from a distance. I am an introvert. And it saddens me to think there would never be a conversation with you if I don’t start it.

I am crazy most of the times. I listen to soft rock hits at midnight on my earphones and imagine myself to be the guitarist and try some singing myself while sitting on my bed, and sometimes even playing my ‘air guitar’ while crossing the road, much to the amusement of passers-by. Music is something I can connect to at any time and point of a day. I laugh at random instances or jokes when they come alive with a sudden surge of memory. There are many moments when I laugh uncontrollably all alone in my room. And there are times when I gape at the moon, simply marveling at its beauty.

I love making people laugh as I believe it resurrects the innocent child in each of them. Everyone is their true self when they laugh, loudly, uncontrollably without any inhibitions. I love the way a silent tear trickles down their face when they laugh madly. But somehow I keep myself serious while they laugh. So I don’t know whether they laugh at what I said, or because how I said it.

I am confused too many times about too many things. I take too much time making a decision. A pile of books lie randomly on my table as I love reading randomly from different books. It’s almost like trying a spoonful of different dishes one after another or having a lively conversation with many interesting friends together. Too many books spoil me and I absolutely love it.

Unlike books, I am too impatient with movies. In movies, I am forced to see things from the director’s perspective but in books, I can choose how I want to visualize something through my mind’s eye, relishing the experience. That is precisely, the beauty of reading for me. In movies I might like the visual story of the director or I may not, I may agree with the events and their outcome or I may not. In books, situations, events and outcomes are already in motion. All I have to do is imagine, and I absolutely love doing that.

I am a confused soul. The wires of my mind get tangled royally when I go shopping. It’s not that I am very miserly or something, I simply cannot choose anything without going through at least 5 samples of different products in that segment. The colour, the texture, the price, the durability: parameters in my mind are countless and it results in a powerful emotion, confusion and a slight pinch of obsession. It’s the same with my life.

But confusions are good as they foster possibilities. I always keep a confu-check on me, an imaginary device that makes me aware of how confused I am at the present moment. Strangely enough, it keeps me going and adds that slight tangy flavour of mysteriousness and adventurism in my life. But once I like something I like it for eternity, no confusions there, which works for people as well.

I am devoted to compassion and kindness, for me it is a way of life. I am not someone who would donate a huge amount for charity and pose for a picture on page 3. I love doing my bit every day. Helping an elderly person get down a bus, giving a biscuit packet to a crying child on the street, feeding a stray dog, speaking politely, not being out-rightly rude and judgmental and indulging in random acts that reinforce humanity around is compassion for me.

I love to write. It brings in purpose to my being. It makes me happy. Every night, I close the doors of my room and write, madly, uncontrollably. If there is something that I could all my life without whining, it would be writing. But I write only for myself as I’m scared how my writings would be perceived by others.

I love, laugh, live and wonder. An unexpected downpour makes me romantic, a delicious street food stall makes me delighted, good food makes me ravenous and a happy reader makes me ecstatic.

But I can be sad too, melancholic at times and forever brooding and heavily contemplating, angry to the point of eruption and sometimes even on the brink of depression.

But I can pick myself up, I can fight back. Because I’ve faced the worst, I have seen how life can be cruel. I am not afraid of hardships, because I know I can overcome them, come out on the other side and be a better person.

But I’m afraid of hurting others, because I know I can, because I know I have and because in the end it hurts me more to know that I am the reason for others sorrow. And that pain is unbearable.

But the biggest pain is that of losing a person. The feeling that you know you won’t see them again or hear their voices. That they don’t have any existence in this earth is truly an unbearable pain. I live with it, I’ve accepted it. I don’t like it. But it’s okay.

I am no celebrity, no famous persona, I am a silent part of you that comes alive when you read what I write and gift me your precious smile. Sometimes you don’t like what I write but it always makes you think, makes you want to explore the avenues of your mind that you never knew existed. You carry my words with you, our boundaries cease to exist and in some silent corner of your heart, a part of me stays.

So who am I?

I am Anonymous. I can be anybody. I can be the person reading this right now and silently smiling to himself or herself.

But I have chosen to be one. And that has given me wings to fly, albeit imaginary.

I am me!.......

Saswata Maitra

P.S-  Started writing this one about 2-3 months ago, but could only complete it now. The real inspiration behind this one, are random people I have observed in recent past, people I meet on a daily basis of which some I am acquainted with, some of which I am not, people I live with and people who are there in my life. I ended up understanding a lot about myself in the process... Please do write a comment if you have read.. 

It feels good to be writing again. It's good to be blogging again..  

THE ERNAKULAM REDEMPTION TOUR- Part 1 (Chapter2)

Chapter 2- 11:40pm-Rest of the night: The Midnight Street Wanderers

“There is not a single, goddamn, person in this entire city on the road right now!!” Arnab exclaimed.

“That’s not the point. But where the hell are all the hotels of this place???” Rahul said with a nervous laugh.

“We’ve got to ask someone!” Suraj said.

“Ask who? There is not a single soul on the streets except the dogs!” I remarked.

It had been 20 minutes since we had got down at the Nagercoil station, 15 minutes of which we just kept on walking like Bedouins searching for water in the desert. In our case the search was for a place to stay. At least for the night.

 Everything was closed, shops, vendors, restaurants, even the medicine centres.

There were a few autos that we saw in the station. But we avoided them owing to their high bargaining cost. Plus we had the notion that if you tell an auto rickshaw driver at 11:30pm at night to take us to a hotel, lodging, he would always take us to a lodge or hotel where he has a prior understanding with. A hotel which we expected would be more costly than our expectations. Being students we wanted a cheap hotel that would come under our budget. And our budget wasn’t really high either. So that option was closed as well.

“Hey why don’t we ask that guy?” Arnab pointed out.

A man, probably in his late forties, battered, tired and worn out, due to probably a long day at office, with an office side bag was walking ahead of us.

“Let’s ask him”, Suraj said.

We started to talk to him in English which quickly changed to Hindi as Rahul started to speak. It took the guy some time to realize what we were talking about. This was quite natural! J 

I mean seriously! What would you do, if you were, coming back home, after a draining, gruelling, 10-12 hours in the office and while coming back you find that there are 5 prospective aliens, speaking in some foreign language, to you? 

The guy stared at us for half a minute. And finally he understood!!

“Lodge, lodge??” he asked.

The end result was that the guy we were talking to, told us to, “go straight you will find plenty of lodge’s!”

We walked for 2 more minutes and yes indeed there was one lodge. 1000/- bucks per night. Definitely not in our budget!

“Sir we are students, can’t u please reduce your tariff? Its only for one night!”

“Hmm”, the reception guy said, in a rather considerate manner. “950/- bucks is the best we can go down upto”.

“Ok thank you,” Suraj said, and we were back on road again!

We walked for a further 15 minutes more.

The roads were completely empty except for a few dogs! Once or twice, but rarely, one or two vehicles passed us by. But we kept on walking. 

We met another person on the way who told us to go straight- “go straight, you find many lodge!” and indeed we kept on walking straight.

“Hey look an ATM shop! I need to take out some money.” Rahul literally squealed!

“I need to go as well”, Koushik joined him.

“I need some cool air!” I went with them.

“Wait for me!” Arnab came forward to join.

“Shit! No money! Go back go back!” Rahul shouted.

“No money! Go back.” Koushik shouted.

“No money, but AC is there! Let’s camp here for tonight!” I said.

I went in. Arnab followed.

“What the hell are you guys doing? Oye you two, come out! We need to find a lodge!!” said a slightly annoyed Suraj.

And we were back on road again! I had never heard pin drop silence in the night on road at 12 am anywhere in my home city. Even at 2am at night you would have those occasional cars crossing the road. The call centre guys coming back home from work. Even ambulances could be seen. The medicine shops would be open all night. Even during the cold winter nights!!

This wasn't exactly a whole new experience for us. It's much of the same in Cochin as well!

We again saw a man. A young man this time. Who literally ran when we came near him!

Finally, at exactly 12 am and after 40 minutes of walking, covering more than 3 km we finally came to a kind of a junction. A bus depot. A common bus stop from where, buses to various places around the state, arrives and departs!

 We saw a policeman in the depot. Fully awake, surprisingly!

Again it took a lot of time to register in his head, what we were actually asking him.

We asked him first about the first bus to Kannyakumari. The first bus, time it takes, hotel availability, hotel fare, etc. We asked him whether it is better to stay in Nagercoil for the rest of the night or whether to go to Kannyakumari by the first bus (which by the way was at 4am) and sit out the next 4 hours in the bus stand? 

 I have to say I was expecting the duty cop to be irritated! I mean its 12 am at night in a small town and you get out of state tourists after long days work. He was bound to get irritated! But even if he was, he really didn’t show any sign of that. May be its a boring job for him, and may be he likes distractions!

I must say we were quite pleased with him for his full co-operation. In the end he told us where exactly is the way to the lodges.

His last words were, “Arey no problem, you go towards right you find plenty lodges. Only about 200 metres".

We took the right that he mentioned. Went about 200 metres and indeed there were lodges! It was like heaven of lodges. That street had a total of 9 lodges, all of which were we were shocked to see, were rudely closed!! The 8th one was however, open. The gates were closed. The receptionist was thankfully fully awake, and counting the daily transactions. Probably was the manager himself. 

And as we came to a consensus with the room fare, we finally got a room to rest our sorry backs for the rest of the night!!

The receptionist requested us to see the room first. 

We said, “its ok, we’ll take it anyways!”

A noble answer considering the time and the walk we had!

“Get ready and prepare yourself to see the worst hotel room of our lifetime”, Rahul chipped while climbing the stairs.

We were all kind of expecting the worst as he said. And you can understand the pleasant surprise when we found that it was quite a decent enough room. Big and airy, kind of room that you require for dwelling of 5 lunatics like us! J

“How is the bathroom? Come on I need to see the bathroom first!” Rahul gave a high hearted nervous laugh!

"It’s good man! Separate one. Thank god!” I informed.

“Yeah thank god!” Koushik said with a silent laugh.

“True. True! Thank you god, for the beautiful bathroom you have given me, I mean us! We promise you that I will use it I mean we will use it judiciously!” Rahul prayed jokingly.

All of us laughed at that!! Typically Rahul! J

After 10 minutes, as we settled down, it was the first time that we realised something. Our stomach! We had no dinner; We last ate at 3 pm in the late afternoon. We had been walking for almost an hour in an alien country with no food. We were literally burning with hunger!

True we had food! 10 small packets of biscuits. 2 packets for each of us. But is it enough for feeding 5 hungry monsters? We ate 6 packs. That did not decrease our hunger. It was like engulfing small ants in a long dark empty tunnel!   

“Hey, its 12:45 already. We’ve got to sleep now, or waking up at 4am is virtually impossible.” Suraj reminded.

“You really think, we would all wake up at 4.00a.m?” Arnab gave a sarcastic laugh.

“Yes, yes Suraj come on mate pls understand, I have to sleep. We are all tired. And that is what holidays are meant to be, resting days” Rahul literally pleaded.

“What the hell man, if you wanted to rest you could have done that in the hostel itself. We had 7 days for doing that!” Suraj said. “Anyways, I wasn’t really expecting any of you to wake up at 4am in any case!” he smirked.    

You must be thinking what this was all about. You see when we fixed the visit to Kannyakumari, we planned on visiting some of the landmarks in it as well. Of course the famous Vivekananda Rock is one of them. The Kannyakumari temple was another, if we get time that is. And the last one was witnessing the sunrise and sunset over the ocean from the tip of the country. Don’t people say that for watching something good or rather for having something good in life you have to sacrifice something for it. We had to sacrifice our sleep for watching the sunrise in this case. It would have been easy had we been in Kannyakumari. Problem was we were 16 km’s away from being there and stuck in this ghostly town of Nagercoil, and taking that 16km journey at 4 in the morning did not felt like a good option. And we weren't the type of a group that likes compromising sleep, no matter what the reason might be. Try talking about sacrificing sleep to Rahul, you'll understand what I mean!

But yes staying 16 kms away was a problem. Oh and this town was a ghostly place all right, not that we saw any actual ghosts. But you know what after staying in a bustling city like Ernakulam for a year and a half and seeing how the city’s roads go to sleep completely by 10pm there, this wasn’t anything new to us. If anything the place was only alien to us as much as we were to it, and may be nothing else!

There were 2 beds in the room. Suraj and Rahul shared the relatively smaller one, while Arnab, Choto (we tend to call Koushik by that name) and me cramped ourselves in the relatively bigger one. The TV was on. Tamil songs were being played. Not something you would want to do at 1am in the morn that too after a long, hard and tiring day, but it continued for 10 more minutes!!

Lights were out 5 minutes later.

“Choto, hey Choto?! You asleep?” Arnab called.

“Hmmm. What is it?”.

“Just one last thing. Don’t get afraid or scream, if u find me cuddling you, while sleeping!”

Typically Arnab! J

.......................................Stay tuned for the next Chapter, possibly next weekend........................................

THE ERNAKULAM REDEMPTION TOUR- Part 1

Chapter 1-  4:30 pm-11:30 pm: Ernad Express

22^nd October 2012

“Guys we should definitely visit Rameshwaram”, Arnab said, “I mean come on, we are going upto that much, why not a bit more?”

“Yeah I realized that. But tell me one thing, how are we going to find the time to visit Rameshwaram in this already tight schedule?” Suraj reasoned.

“Yeah but you know John Mohan sir is right, we might never get another chance at visiting it!” Arnab pleaded.

“What do you guys think?” Suraj asked looking at me and Rahul.

“Well”, Rahul started, “is it possible? I mean shouldn’t we just enjoy with whatever is possible to visit. See I want to go to Rameshwaram as much as you want to Arnab but, is it at all feasible?”

“Yeah lets enjoy with whatever is possible to visit” Koushik joined.

“No it’s not feasible. We are only having a 3 day tour which is already tightly scheduled. If you add another place to this, then either you have to add one more day, or you have to hire a caravan! And I don’t think we would be doing any of those!” I said with a note of finality.

As you might have guessed by now, us five, Arnab, Koushik, Rahul, Suraj and myself, went for a short holiday, (rather a small tour) to the extreme southern tip of the country. It has been always on the back of my mind, and at times one would find me and Rahul planning the tour on our own. Question back then was, when would that be possible? There was also a minor hindrance of convincing the others about this trip. Because with the exams approaching it might have been a bit tough to get a consent from others. In any case there was a slight desperation from me this time. I wanted this holiday. And I wanted to have it no matter what. Luckily I found Rahul to be almost equally keen and interested. Eventually the opportunity presented itself before us during the Durga Puja-Id holidays in the October when the university thankfully announced a week long suspension of classes owing to all the festivities. 

So on the day of Maha-ashtami we packed our bags (as lightly as we could) and started our journey with a keen, energetic and optimistic mindset.

As scheduled we decided on going to Kannyakumari first, and then to Trivandrum on the way back. 1 day in Kannyakumari and approximately 2 days in Trivandrum. We boarded the Ernad express in the evening of 22^nd and that’s where this conversation surfaced. This was going to be a seven hours journey from Ernakulam to Nagercoil (a small city on the outskirts of Kannyakumari). The journey was quite a boring one and nothing really interesting happened during the first 5 hours till we reached Trivandrum.

In Trivandrum almost 90% of the passengers got down, while in our compartment, (D4 it was if I remember correctly) apart from us 5 rest all 100% vacated their seats! J  That was bizarre! It felt strange!

“Hey everyone left!” I exclaimed.

“Yeah we can see that!” said Suraj with a grin.

“A train compartment only for ourselves!J” said a smiling Koushik

"Do whatever you feel like doing, no ones gonna stop you!" Suraj's grin got bigger.

"Hmmm. I always wanted to jump on the train seats in my childhood days! May be I could try that today!" I said thoughtfully, but sheepishly.

Others gave me an imaginative but sarcastic look!

We ended up lying down on the seats, with Arnab falling almost half asleep! (It was by the way, only a sitting train and not a sleeper!) 

“But is no one going to Nagercoil in this train apart from us?” Rahul asked.

His question though remained unanswered, till 11.20 pm at night; when we discovered that apart from us there were hardly 20 or 30 people in the entire train that got down at the last station!!

...................................................stay tuned for the next chapter..................................................

Note- This is an original copyrighted, real life, Non-Fiction story. Just enjoy the chaotic adventure of these 5 living idiots, do not reflect too much. And do not re-produce this account in any other form without prior notification of the blog owner.

(This is officially my first story.. To be available as E-book by May)