Seoul

The dust has settled from the trip to Korea and Singapore. I had intended to put down my impressions at the airport on the way back, but lately, words have been eluding me. It's taking a lot for me not to blame it on my inability to write those crazy MBA essays. But that's a story for another time.

The first surprise was the cost of a taxi ride from Incheon Airport into Seoul. 120000 Korean Won! In the style of Bertie Wooster, I goggled at the taxi meter, and then in the words taught me by the driver, I thanked him and walked into the Shilla Hotel.

The depictions of the far east in the movies have always had people bowing at each other in greeting, but somehow, movies have always seemed unreal to me, or perhaps relics from a distant past. It was a surprise, therefore, that everyone does bow. And the curious thing was that my automatic response to the greeting was to bow in reply. It just seemed a natural thing to do, and every time I caught myself bowing my head, I found myself smiling in surprise.

The visit to Gyeongbokgung was fascinating. I learned a little of Korean history and the Joseon Dynasty. The walls were covered with white paper to reflect natural light. The ceilings had five colours, representing the four directions and the centre. Everything was built with Feng Shui in mind and it all makes sense when you see it like that. The guardians of the palace are the creatures of the chinese zodiac, each having a particular direction and a function. The roads in the palace compound had 3 lanes - one for coming, one for going, and one for the King and the Queen!

Outside the hotel, the airport and the office, I found very few people that could understand English. Getting directions or help in any way, was fun! Ordering food was even better - I decided that I would like to experience the real Korean food, so I walked into this hole-in-the-wall place in one of the bye-lanes and used the universal sign for "I'm hungry" (rubbed my stomach and pointed at my mouth). I'm not really sure yet what I ate, probably pork, but it was nice.

Another time, I went to this place where the seating was on a short wooden platform. Since I can't squat for more than 5 minutes without cramping up, I decided to take the food back to the hotel. Unfortunately, I didn't realise that the menu had pictures of plates that served two. I thoroughly overate!

Oh, and tips.... I'm not sure, but I think I insulted a few waiters by leaving tips.

The Koreans are proud of being Korean, of their language and of their culture. That's a very strong impression I got, and something that I'm a little envious of. Sometimes, I wish....

On my last day in Seoul, I walked up Namsan Hill. The winter colours were red and yellow. I picked up one red leaf and one yellow one for keepsakes.

The maid knocked on the door on the day I was leaving, and handed me a feedback form and pointed to the part where I was to put any 'other' comments. She then proceeded to very animatedly tell me something in Korean. When I looked at her in confusion, she rushed out a brought her colleague with her who then explained to me, in Korean with two English words ('name' and 'maid') and plenty of gestures, that I was to mention the maid's name in the feedback form. I thought it was wonderful that the maid knew with absolute certainty that the feedback would be positive.

And, just so I wouldn't have to goggle again, I took the shuttle from the hotel to the airport (only 13000 Won)!

Helmets and Insurance

Save your head, they say.
Insure your life, they say.
Insure your apartment, they say.
Stick your middle finger at fate, they say.

Round The Bend

and over the hill...

Summer. Seven years ago. How we laughed as we hiked around Nainital! The winding road to Kilbury took us round many bends and over a few hills.

That summer was like something out of one of Gerald Durrell's books. Idyllic - is that the word I'm looking for?

Our ages said that we weren't children any more, but for those two weeks, in our hearts, we were. The blue skies, the breeze through the trees, the butterflies dancing in the garden. What wouldn't I give to be that person again!

Well, I've gone round many bends since then, and over many hills....

Elephant Diwali

The elephants came on the eve of Diwali. They weren't greeted with lights as Ram and Sita were greeted by the people of Ayodhya so many aeons ago. Sal and I were sleeping. Tension, our dog alarm, announced their arrival with a volley of loud barks. If he weren't so scared of snakes, maybe I wouldn't have mistaken his excitement for the escape of the cobra from its box (its fangs are still growing back after its encounter with a snake-charmer). Arghh... if only I had looked out of the window instead of into the snake box!

So our guests stopped ten metres short of the room where I was serenading the stars with my snores. They left their calling cards and left - the flattened electric fence, a peepal tree we can't find and elephant dung everywhere. The recently built hide was left intact (perhaps my snoring scared them off!).

We wished they would return. We spent Diwali patrolling the quarry scanning the tree line for the hulking shadows that would signal their return. But they'd moved on.

And so we watched the crackers from our vantage point, cursed the people sending up huge clouds of sulphurous fumes into the already smoggy air, and wished each other a Happy Diwali (neither of us is Hindu). And we wished that the people would give the money that they burned every Diwali to the poor. Yes, there is employment in manufacturing the crackers, but must surviving be so hazardous?

The Grey-headed Mynas (Sturnus Malabaricus Malabaricus) turned up on the owlet tree. The White-throated Fantail Flycatcher (Rhipidura albicollis) has been in our sights for a while. And the skulking Blue-faced Malkoha (Phaenicophaeus viridirostris) has kept me amused with its carnival mask-like face.

Scary Conversations

Monday, you come to work, and your product architect is not around. Unusual. He's usually here at eight in the morning.

Eleven o'clock, he's still not in. This was supposed to be an important directional meeting with management.

Then management walks in and calls the team (team of two, hahaha) together. And he tells us there's bad news. First thought - the product architect has quit the company. No big deal, it happens all the time. It's worse though... at 40, he's had a heart attack! I almost have one in shock! He's in intensive care and will be out of office for a month.

Tuesday evening. My manager never calls out of office hours. I get a call at choir practice, well after office hours. The hair on my neck stands on end. Phew... it's good news. He's going to be fine.

Thursday morning. He's being discharged. The team (read me, for today) is left to work with a vague feeling of being set loose. No product architect for a month.....

Man, I've got to exercise, eat right, and do all those things!

Rehab

How do I recuperate from a long week at work? I go to the Banerghata Rehab Centre. And what do I do there? I undergo therapy. Therapy, in the form of cleaning the living quarters of the patients, cooking for the staff, washing the utensils, recording the activities of the visitors, building assorted shelters for the various activities that take place there.

BRC is a wildlife rehabilitation centre. The patients are mostly birds and reptiles injured and displaced by the urbanisation of the areas around Bangalore. Saleem, the bearded keeper, and his bunch of friends look after them till they're ready to resume their lives back in their natural habitats again. There are also the occasional confiscated pets and show animals that need care. These are the 'lifers' - animals that can never make it back in the wild.

The visitors are the birds, amphibians and reptiles dropping by from the National Park. The staff are the humans, the volunteers.

Sometimes though, more than the animals, it's the people that volunteer there that are in need of rehab. Perhaps that's why they volunteer there.

For me, time at BRC is time free from my cares. When I peer out of my binoculars at a Booted Eagle soaring in the sky, there is suddenly no one else in the world. Just me. Or when I watch the Indian Pond Frog calling as the sun sets, bright red behind the abandoned quarry. Sometimes, there is someone else watching. Someone I can't see. I know the eyes are there, but.... The leopard has been seen by others at BRC, but not me. I'm sure it has watched me scan the undergrowth for it a hundred times. Or perhaps, the eyes belong to the huge silhouettes of the elephants that come to feed on the Ragi.

The Shikra chick has grown up. On Sunday, it decided that a kite was coming too close to home, so it jumped on it. The sight of the Shikra, identified by a missing tail feather (a souvenir from its encounter with Bangalore's development), diving in on a Black Kite more than twice its size. Nice! It still comes and sits outside the kitchen window and asks for little pieces of meat though.

The rickety jackal is still in his enclosure. No one had seen or heard him in months, so Saleem and I decided to walk through the grass to find him. There was no sign of him until we gave up and headed back to the gate. And then, there he was, hiding in a clump of grass just by the gate. So, he's still around, and the food's not been taken by something else living in there.

And Mr Johnny Walker Mynah. He doesn't like loud voices, and will let you know. I was giving him a dressing down for crapping on my clean jeans when he jumped me, digging his claws into me face. Hmm... I learnt my lesson. Mr Walker's the boss!

And, and, and.... there's so many things ...

Maybe the hide that Ajay and I put up this weekend will help us photographically record the birds that frequent BRC. Maybe it'll just fall over when the wind blows. I'm not really an engineer, you know!

Bandh!

Tomorrow I will be working on a Saturday, and I will reflect on the conflict between the Maharashtra and the Karnataka governments. It's strange how little I know or care about the argument. Whose side am I on? Well, the side which ... once again ... what are they fighting about?

I woke up on Wednesday morning, and I heard birds chirping outside my window. This was the first time in Bangalore that the sound I've heard on waking up was not the sound of an autorickshaw roaring by Ulsoor Lake. Slowly, my mind adjusted to the thought that there was nothing I could do today, absolutely nothing. Was the thought uncomfortable? Not at all! My being rejoiced in the fact that there was nothing to do, nothing to accomplish.

Bangalore stood still. Perhaps it is coincidence, but the temperature dropped at least a couple of degrees on Wednesday. And when I rode to work on the next morning, the sky was just a little bluer.

I thought ... this should happen more often. Maybe once a month, everyone should stay home and give nature a chance to refresh the city, refresh our minds.

A pipedream I'm sure. I can't imagine the corporate world accepting the massive losses that are incurred on days like this. What about closing down on a Sunday? Well, the retail world, the entertainment world, and others of their ilk, would they be willing? Most of all though, would people stay at home if there wasn't the threat of someone stoning their cars?

I don't believe that this thought is mine alone, but....

Hampi

Ruins. Admiration tinged with sadness.
Magnificent sculptures, created by taking parts of the breathtaking environment.
A kingdom that tried to be tolerant, destroyed by the Mughal Empire which destroyed anything that didn't look like their own.
Ingenious constructions; the aqueducts that brought water from the Tungabhadra River; the pin-hole camera in the walls of the Virupaksha temple; the system of pipes in the Lotus Palace to keep the hall cool; the pillars that reverberate with the sounds of musical instruments. Perhaps the technology still exists, but the art is dead.

The Tungabhadra dam. A wall holding incredible amounts of water. Man harnessing nature. Does living together mean one controlling another?

The JSW steel factory. Spewing smoke into the sky, planting trees to ease their conscience.

All in all, a contradictory trip, and a wonderful time.

Social Work

Why is social work considered a higher cause? Everyone does social work.

An example is the the truck driver who blows his horn (blowing everybody's eardrums away) when the traffic signal turns green. Hey... even though he's 10 cars away from the light, it's his duty to inform the guy in the front that the signal has changed. He's so kind to the people being blocked by the insensitive guy in front who's taken one second to get his car into first gear.

What about the guys who stop by the side of the road to water the trees. Hey... the trees need the urea, you know.

The beginning

The world has been blogging for a while now, and I've been feeling a little left behind.