A last shout-out from the land of sacred cows.

A last shout-out from the land of sacred cows.



We're in Wich Latte again and the friendly boss has just informed me that he's found my blog. (I suspect that it's my blog the staff are giggling at, as they're all huddled at the computer terminal behind the counter.) My blog, complete with my Mumbai bashing entries. Oops. Anyway, Mr. Wich Latte offered to take Erwin and I out tonight, after our dinner at Indigo. We made reservations after reading reviews about how it's supposedly the best restaurant in Mumbai, and some claim the whole of India. I'll put my restaurant critic to work tonight.

Thank goodness I'm done with my contemplating-India-post, as the life is quickly and steadily draining out of my laptop. And unlike Pacific Coffee in Singapore, there are no lamps here to unplug to charge my Macbook.

So this concludes the very last post of my India jaunt! The next time I blog, it'll be from good old Singapore!


In the meantime, I'm digging my new straw hat. Hah!

Indian summer and the quest for answers.

Indian summer and the quest for answers.

It's my third day in Wich Latte, and I've given up feeling bad about seat-hogging. Not when the cafe is virtually empty (in comparison to the nearby crammed and overcrowded Cafe Churchill), and when it is the only place with free wi-fi in the vicinity of our hotel. Well, there is the cybercafe barely ten steps around the bend from Hotel Bentley's where we're staying, but what's thirty steps more if it means the convenience of using my own laptop, and the best (if only) Caesar salad I've had in four months?

It is also my third last day in India, and I think it's a shame that our oversight led us to choosing Mumbai as the destination for our last Indian jaunt. The Bollywood capital is not throbbing with twirling saris and pulsating bhangra music as I had expected it to be. Instead, while walking in the choking heat around the touristy Colaba district yesterday, I felt like I was trawling Little India back home. But of course, the locals here are very much less discreet with their lecherous stares.

What was it I came to India for? I lay in bed this morning, pillow propped up against the headboard, contemplating the question.

I left Singapore a little hesitant but confident that I would find my purpose some time between yoga retreats and Indian cooking classes. Neither happened, obviously, and I have no excuses to defend my inertia in self-improvement.

Four months have passed, and I am no clearer of my purpose and intentions as the day I boarded the SQ flight to Ahmedabad. Did I get lazy along the way, or did India (namely Ahmedabad and lazy MICA days) rob me of my wanderlust?

One last traipse through India.

One last traipse through India.


This is our third day in Mumbai, and we're bored out of our wits. Apart from beef burgers and a chocolaterie that serves absolutely sinful brownies and to-die-for french toasts, Mumbai has nothing to offer.

Seriously.

One last chicken cheese frankie.

One last chicken cheese frankie.


Our last lunch at MiCafe: The picture on the left is the renowned chicken cheese frankie Berty and Erwin are fans of. It is essentially marinated chicken and cheese wrapped inside a prata. The uninteresting sandwich is my lunch staple - mushroom and cheese if I'm having veg that day, chicken mayo if it is a non-veg day.



Clockwise from top left: Mehul, Anjalee, Niraj and Deepak.



The sweet girl's Taranum, the guy in black's Pranjal, and the other guy's Sumanyu the quiet giant.



Almost seems like yesterday
that we were flying paper planes
unleasing inner divas at drama class
and at Chhota molding clay.

Almost seems like yesterday
that we watched the sunrise from the Champa yard
sharing laughs and obscene jokes
amidst Ben Harper and cigarette smoke.

Almost seems like yesterday
that you taught me how to dance
throwing chapattis and tons more silly moves
drunken prancing was never such a hoot.

Alas yesterday has come and gone
And many tomorrows await
Thank you for the wonderful memories
Perhaps we'll meet again someday.



So my bags are almost packed, and we will drag our lazy asses down to the mess at 8:30 a.m. for one last authentic MICA breakfast - butter toast and chai.

And come 10 a.m., it's goodbye Silveroak, goodbye CCC buddies, goodbye MICA, and hello Mumbai.

Just for the record, I have shipped back an astounding 42kg worth of stuff (of which Erwin's books probably made up 8kg). Cost us a total of S$380, which really ain't that bad!

Sunshine between our toes.

Sunshine between our toes.


picture from inmagine.com

"I plopped face down
maybe the bliss won't fade away so soon
if I trapped my heart between my body and the bed."

Offbeat humor and the sweetest silly e-cards. Quite a few times now I've experienced bouts of pure happiness. Sparkling sunshine I wish I could capture and store in a bottle.

Time after time I've struggled to pen down the exact feeling, but words escape me.

I still don't quite know where we're driving towards, but I'm enjoying the ride with the wind in our hair and the sunshine between our toes.

P.s. To my many concerned friends, I am 3/4 done with my packing!
P.p.s. Facebook has been inaccessible from this campus of late, so I'll get back into the facebooking groove when I'm back in Singapore.

Packing woes.

Packing woes.



There are about a thousand jittery butterflies flitting about in my stomach, and I've awoken and tossed and turned too many times throughout the night to slip into proper slumber.

I can't figure out if it's the excitement of finally leaving MICA or the anxiety of all the packing that awaits that's keeping me awake. Perhaps a combination of both, in which case I'm gonna give the espresso industry a run for their caffeine-tinged money.

Three days till we leave the campus for good, and my room still looks very much inhabited. Clothes are still strewn across the chairs, my wardrobe's still stuffed to the brim, and my toiletries and knick knacks are still spilling over the dresser. Here, I should probably confess that I have acquired more barang barang than my other Singaporean counterparts.

What am I gonna do?

Okay, one step at a time. First, back to my morning routine to regain some balance. Off I go to the gym to do some thinking on the stationary bike.

If you were a kiss I know I'd be a hug.

If you were a kiss I know I'd be a hug.


picture from http://www.inmagine.com

I'd put off watching Juno for the longest time, despite Erwin's constant goading. This may sound silly, but Juno sounds too much like the Japanese horror flick Ju-On for me to associate it with any feel-good effects.

Well, it is a lazy Sunday, my last here in MICA, and I'm quite glad I settled down to watch Juno instead of succumbing to a post-lunch nap. It's beautifully shot, and Juno (that's the lead character) is incredibly endearing despite her smart-mouthed comments. And it's got an awesome soundtrack of catchy tunes and quirky lyrics.

If My Blueberry Nights was a comforting slice of blueberry pie, Juno would be a bowl of cereal and strawberries. Wholesome feel-good sunshine for my Sunday.

It's turning out to be quite a fruitful weekend.

Eden for undiscerning gourmets.

Eden for undiscerning gourmets.


picture from http://skatandthefood.blogspot.com/

After almost four months of waiting, I finally watched My Blueberry Nights today, thanks to Erwin's (how should I put it) technological resourcefulness.

My natural bias toward Norah Jones and therefore the film aside, I think it's one of the nicest shows I've seen in awhile. This could also possibly be because the beautiful yet very credible love story was a refreshing change from the thought-provoking and somewhat depressing films we were fed the past three days in Mathew's class.

In addition to the poignant lines, the film has also left in me a craving for a slice of blueberry pie, served warm and topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Love is expensive - 72€ in fact.

Love is expensive - 72€ in fact.



Me: Je suis dans l'amour avec un grosse vache.
B: ????? what do you mean? "I'm in love with a fat cow?"
Me: Yes, is it wrong?
Me: Baby are you laughing? Haha.
B: I understand what you're saying, but I am laughing.
B: Cos what you say could be interpreted as "I'm in the love in the fat cow!" But that's cute baby!

HAHAHA oops? No thanks to the Babelfish translator.

I've been feeling pretty crabby for various reasons, but sharing a few chuckles over our two-hour MSN convo pretty much distracted and soothed the grouchiness. We're sticking to MSN for awhile, after we realized last night's 30-minute phone call cost him 72 euros. That, according to my trusty currency converter, is equivalent to S$152.90!

And I thought I wasn't high maintenance... haha.

Getting my groove back.

Getting my groove back.
music: kt tunstall - suddenly i see


picture from Roxy

It wasn't till B mentioned it in his email that it dawned on me that I had only 10 days left in MICA. 10 days before I bid this campus - so full of sunshine yet with so bleak a soul - goodbye. The weather's getting hotter with each passing day, and Erwin's speculating that the increasing heat could be the cause of our nasty moods. I'm not sure I agree with him, but my mood's improved significantly since my second-last post.

I must admit that I could have done a lot more with the insane amount of free time I had these few weeks. Like finishing up my many novels (less to lug home = less overweight luggage charges), watching the many movies on my hard drive, packing my luggage, and religiously practising yoga. I'd actually thought I'd be able to further my practice by coming to the land of yoga itself, but apart from a few downward dog poses a day, I've been embarrassingly undisciplined.

I would unroll my mat now if my stomach wasn't so full of oily fries and I weren't feeling so sleepy. For two nights now I've attempted sleeping at a more decent hour than the unearthly 4 or 5 a.m., but I've only succeeded in tossing around and tangling my sheets till past 3 a.m. And for two mornings now I've awoken before 9 a.m., and that leaves me very very sleep-deprived.

I've replied my emails, and gotten a firmer grasp of my Paris/Italy plans. I'm psyched, but the lethargy is kicking in. Time for a nap in the air-conditioned comforts of my room. A good respite from the scorching hot Indian summer.

A taste of civilization.

A taste of civilization.
music: panic at the disco - behind the sea

We've heard about how our predecessors were fans of the breakfast buffet at Pride Hotel. Natural curiosity, coupled with the fact that it is possibly Nuria's last weekend here in Ahmedabad, had us rolling out of bed at the unearthly hour of 7:30 a.m. for a taste.





The food was not drop-to-our-knees fantastic, but fantastic still by local Ahmedabad standards. Not bad for a Saturday morning.

I re-read my previous post, and was a little taken aback by my pessimism. I may not be a walking ray of sunshine right now, but I assure you I am not that gloomy. A brighter entry after my catnap perhaps - we didn't get to bed till past three in the morning.

Craving the pulse.

Craving the pulse.
feeling: bored, restless



The monotony is getting to me, and I fear I may go crazy keeping up with the art of doing nothing at all.

I know that I was waxing lyrical about the simple life just two months back, but that was when normal semester classes were on-going, the campus was filled with students, and our favourite Frenchies were still around.

Having spent the past two weeks since my return from Goa stuck on a campus that is starting to resemble a graveyard, and the fact that this graveyard is right smack in a city where there's nothing remotely interesting to do, I concede defeat. Doing nothing at all is damn hard work!

My timeless days have jelled into a mass of routine activities.

I wake up at 11:30 a.m. and head downstairs to the gym. After my shower at about 1:45 p.m., I flip flop my way over to Erwin's room and off we go to MiCafe (one of the independent stalls on campus, because we can't stand eating the slush they serve in the mess) where lunch is almost always a chicken cheese frankie for him. I'm a little less loyal in my choices, but I've been eating the mushroom cheese sandwich for a few days now.

At 2:30 p.m., we drag our bodies to the CCC lab for class. While it sometimes involves vaguely interesting activities like writing limericks or haikus, more often than not we are slumped in the back row, discretely surfing unrelated websites.

Class usually ends by 6:30p.m. (earlier if we're lucky or if the instructor's lazy), and we'll head to the mess for snacks. Snack-time usually involves butter toast (eaten Singaporean style - sprinkled with sugar) and a cup of milky chai, after which we'll head back to our rooms for more internet surfing/movie watching/reading.

At about 9:45 or 10 p.m., Nuria would tap on my door and we'd head down to dinner. On nights when we're feeling particularly adventurous, we'd head to the mess. Most nights however, we bypass the route to the mess and head straight to MiCafe. Dinner is almost always a bowl of chicken chilli garlic noodles for Erwin. For me, I alternate between the mushroom cheese omelette and vegetarian Manchurian fried rice, or if I am eating meat that day, Erwin's dinner choice. Nuria almost always chooses to torture her tastebuds with the mess food.

Post dinner, we head back to our rooms to resume our post-snack activities. And on nights where the monotony threatens to kill (almost daily), one of us caves in and gathers the others for chai at Chhota (this other independent stall that really doesn't rank high on hygiene, but it's open 24 hours unlike MiCafe, which closes by midnight these days).

The above routine may sound like heaven to stressed-out souls, especially those scrambling to meet deadlines and ace the upcoming exams, but I'm ready to leave this dome and come back to civilization and reality.

I'm 13 days from Mumbai and 19 days from home. I can't wait for Mumbai. All the negative comments about the place the locals have told me about - crawling traffic, bustling streets, crowds of people - sound like the perfect remedy for my case of monotony. Toss me back into the pulsating city life. I need to be around people again, before I morph into a social recluse.

My epiphany.

My epiphany.



For a good part of my time here in India, I've felt like I've got cobwebs in my mind. Sticky and lingering, the delicate webs spin a layer of haze over my thoughts. My thought processes have dulled, and most of the time it's easier succumbing to the fog than fighting it.

If I had to be perfectly honest, I would admit that the cobwebs had already lodged themselves in my head long before I left for India. Monotonously living life and taking it one day at a time, I've been oblivious to my hidden desire to be hit with a revelation. A ray of light that would bestow upon me the enlightenment I had been awaiting.

Somewhere along my three months of existence in this dome of a campus (where my most intellectual thoughts involve dinner and wardrobe choices), I stopped seeking the answers to life. And in the cheeky way life works, the answers dawned when I stopped searching for them.

Yes, I had my epiphany today, at dusk.

It's unexpected and even a tad surreal. I was just telling a friend, who is at life's crossroads, that the best solution could be to let instinct lead. Life would bring you to the path you're meant to be on ultimately, I told her.

It may take me around a dozen forks and bends, but I'll get there. And no, I am not revealing the details of the epiphany. It's too minor, and would probably disappoint with its lack of impact. So let's just leave it at this - I had an epiphany today.

Leaving the sunshine for fluorescent lights.

Leaving the sunshine for fluorescent lights.



The flights are booked, and I have had the very gratifying experience of delivering the news to the exchange coordinator's office. Erwin and I will leave MICA for Mumbai on 24 April, and we'll touchdown in Singapore sometime in the night on 30 April.

So this is it. After months of planning a revolution while silently fearing that we would be caged in this timeless prison until June, our homecoming plans are finally concrete.

The relief and exhilaration I had anticipated has yet to hit. Perhaps spending the past months in a limbo has desensitized me.

Each passing day in this now-quiet campus is a day closer to returning to the civilization of my memories.

Where sidewalks are properly paved, and there's no reason to fear having one's toes rolled over by passing vehicles.
Where the air (though not necessarily the freshest) does not contain lung-choking dust, and cars do not drive against the traffic flow.
Where breakfast choices extend beyond eggs and butter toast, and beef and alcohol are not sacred rarities.
Where Fridays are usually dinner-and-chick-flick-night, and weekends are actually a time for leisure.

I can think of the many other routines of my pre-Indian life, but if there's anything being in MICA and India has taught me, it would be getting stripped down to the bare basics and, as I reiterated several times in a lengthy email to my dad, growing up.

Unlikely as it may seem, there is something so wholesomely addictive about this simple life. Grand and dandy it may be, life in Singapore often constitutes too many choices. Cityhall or Orchard Road? Western or Thai? Swimming or beaching? Bus or taxi?

I'm looking forward to coming home, yet I can't say I really look forward to leaving. Oh the irony.

Road trippin' and intoxicated teetotallers.

Road trippin' and intoxicated teetotallers.

Raghu took me out on his bike yesterday to Gandhinagar, the capital city of Gujarat, to see the stepwells of Gujarat and the famed Swaminarayan Akshardham Temple. We set off at 4 p.m. with the sun on our faces and the wind in our hair, and of course the infamous Ahmedabad dust clogging our pores.



After I got used to the momentum of riding out the many humps and potholes on the road, I stopped hanging onto the seat/his shoulders (whichever instinct had me grabbing onto first) for dear life and got a little trigger happy capturing our shadows.


After about an hour, we left dusty Ahmedabad behind and arrived at the stepwells of Gujarat, a seven-storey architectural beauty.


Exploring the damp and musty depths required nimble maneuvering. One of the well-watchers told Raghu that someone had fallen to his death a few days earlier. It sounds a little implausible, but the structure does have several potentially treacherous nooks and crannies.





Perilous conditions aside, the stepwells were indeed awe-inspiring. The filtering sunlight had shadows dancing around the columns, and navigating the narrow steps had me feeling a little like Lara Croft in Tomb Raider (yes yes minus the double-D boobs).


Shadow and light. Spot us?


We made an impromptu stop at a wildlife sanctuary/zoo, where I saw Bambi-like deers.


We arrived at the Swaminarayan Akshardham Temple at twilight, and I was astounded by its beauty. Photography is prohibited, so here's an official picture from Getty Images. My first thought upon seeing the lighted-up temple was - sheesh, this looks like Disneyland.




Dinner was at Hyderabadi Biryani, one of the only two restaurants Raghu actually patronizes in Ahmedabad. Over the faultless chicken dum biryani, eaten with raita (the white sauce) and gravy (the orange sauce); we exchanged recipes, and I think I should be able to whip up a dish of dhal and lemon fried rice when I return to Singapore.

I can't fathom how we managed the space after our biryani dinner, but we stopped at a street stall for pretty excellent kulfi-tasting ice-cream. That was also when the rain started, and we rode the 20-minute road back to MICA in bone-chilling winds and icy pelts of rain.


After a hot shower to chase away the chills, I headed over to the Champa hostel with Erwin and Nuria, where the CCC and RCM peeps were celebrating Himanshu's birthday. That's the birthday boy in red and grey.


A semi-sober Niraj, just a few drinks away from going topless and pawing Erwin.


People in various states of intoxication.

With alcohol, the quiet became chatty, the chatty became chattier, and the irritating became amusing. There was quite a bit of pawing, fighting and kissing going on, and some were caught in hilariously compromising positions. All in good fun, all in good fun. Happy birthday Himanshu!