A day at Desaru beach, Malaysia

Last weekend, we went to Desaru – a beach in Johor state, Malaysia. We being Varun, Tara, Vishy, Abi and I. We had planned to stay overnight, but somehow all hotels in this fairly unknown beach were booked. Optimistically, we decided to leave from home at 7am in the morning and try to find a room in Desaru since we refused to believe that all rooms could be taken.

Abi and I had slept late the previous night. So when the alarm rang at 6am, there was no chance that I would get up. Abi being an early-bird made himself busy finding books to read during the trip, getting our passports ready and packing some clothes in a small little bag and eating breakfast. Periodically he would call out to me to get up. To get him off my back, I asked him to check if others had woken up, fully confident that everyone would have slept in. Apparently not, because 5 mins later he shouted for me to wake up with an edge in his voice indicating rising temper. I quickly began getting ready for the trip and putting a few clothes of mine in the bag. Soon I realized that I was putting in a lot of stuff in the bag but it just didn’t seem to get full. On closer inspection, I realized that Abi kept removing clothes as I added them in since he felt we didn’t need as many for a short weekend trip. We were in the middle of a heated argument when Tara called to say that they were on way to pick us up. So we just quickly filled the bag with whatever we could find and rushed down.

Abi appointed himself as navigator of the trip and prided himself on his sense of direction and brilliance in geography. To his credit, he had written down detailed directions (like "Take a left immediately after KFC and keep going straight") on a sheet of paper to ensure we wouldn’t get lost. Vishy had just finished reading Harry Potter the previous night and like a true Harry Potter fan he had a few unresolved questions in his mind. He wanted to discuss these unresolved issues with me since I had also read it. As we began to discuss it, Varun and Abi got irritated since they planned to read the book and we were breaking the suspense for them. Once Varun turned around to shut us up and the car swerved dangerously. Fearing our lives, we agreed not to discuss it anymore. Suddenly, I heard someone whispering to me. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was Vishy trying to be very secretive about the Harry Potter discussion. In a car with 5 people, whispering is bound to draw more attention than a normal conversation. Anyway, we only stopped the discussion when Vishy had asked all his questions, didn’t get satisfactory answers on some and decided to read the book again.

We were travelling on a narrow road and there were a few really slow-moving trucks in front of us. Varun got fairly frustrated with the slow pace at which we were crawling and overtook the trucks even though there was traffic coming at us from the other side. Tara, who was sleeping so far got fairly worked up at this and said “I will complain to Papa if you don’t drive carefully”. Varun (and all of us) were taken aback at Tara’s frenzy given that she seemed peacefully asleep just minutes ago. In any case, the outburst worked like a charm and Varun became the safest driver on the face of earth ever.

We reached Desaru without further incident and decided to hit the beach before trying to find a room. In any case the beach looked fairly empty, so we would get rooms easily. The weather was brilliant – cloudy with a gentle breeze. The water was a dull blue and the sky was a dirty gray. Vishy jumped into the water wearing track pants with 6 pockets (this becomes important later on). We had just reached the beach when high tide was beginning. We sat down at the edge of the water for about an hour with successive wave drenching us more than the previous. It had begun to drizzle now and soon we were the only people left on the beach. When the rain became heavier, we got up to leave. Vishy couldn’t get up since every pocket was filled with atleast a kilo of sand. Clutching his pockets, he ran into the privacy of the sea water to get rid of the sand while we had a good laugh.

As always, immediately after coming out of the seawater, we began to feel tired and dirty and needed a shower. The boys went to find a room, but couldn’t since Desaru was celebrating "family day" that weekend with 2000 families from all over Malaysia participating in the celebrations. I must say that these 2000 families were doing a very good job of hiding themselves since we couldn’t spot anyone for miles. We reconciled to the fact that it would have to be a day trip and we would have to find alternate arrangements to shower and change. After a long and painful search, we found a public loo where we paid 50 cents to shower and had the option to buy a soap and shampoo as well. The washroom's lights were turned off, but as soon as we paid up, miraculously the lights turned on. It might have been better to keep it dark since the light served to magnify the dirt and grime in the washroom. I entered to see small cubicles with built-in cement tubs containing stale water. There was no shower, not even a bucket or a mug. Just a rubber pipe connected to a tap. I was most upset. There seemed no way out of this. Just as I was reconciling myself to this reality, I heard voices from the other side of the cubicles. I walked around to the other side to find a row of showers. I had started rejoicing when noticed that none of them had a door. Flimsy curtains covered roughly half the entrance. After a hugely disgusting experience, we managed to freshen up. As I was coming out of the washroom, a strange Indian man walked in and my shock was mirrored on his face also. He gathered his wits sooner than I could and asked in a shaky voice "Ladeej toilet?” I nodded and he quickly ran out. There were 2 people at the entrance of the loo, but since this man hadn’t paid up for their special services (shower, shampoo, soap et al) they chose not to enlighten him that the men's washroom was on the other side.

We managed to find food quite easily and had a long lunch. It was now about 3pm in the afternoon and the rain finally stopped. So we decided to lie down on the beach and read for a while before leaving for Singapore. Abi read all of one word before he fell asleep. Vishy didn’t attempt to read at all, just lied still. Varun and Tara fought a losing battle with sleep and succumbed to it after a few minutes. I diligently read the depressing book I had got. Vishy periodically woke up from sleep to announce "I can’t sleep straight. I need to spread myself out, but Abi is taking up all the space". I felt like a school teacher trying to tell him that he had to make do with the space he had. After an hour we decided it was time to leave.

On our way back, Tara decided her cold had subsided enough for her to drive us back to Singapore. We reached Johor without any incident. We stopped at a petrol pump in Johor to fill the tank and suddenly felt like we didn’t want to go through the Woodlands checkpoint, we wanted to go to Tuas. Abi tried to rationalise it by saying immigration was quicker at Tuas. We asked the way to Tuas and drove in search of it for half an hour. At one point, we thought that we found the right way and Abi was quick to take credit for it. After a short celebration, we found ourselves driving down the same road that we had previously, heading towards Woodlands. Abi had failed at his job as a navigator and tried to salvage some pride by convincing us that both checkpoints were equally efficient and we should just head to Woodlands.

Vishy had just bought a new phone with a powerful camera, so he whiled away time by clicking pictures of himself. His eyes were closed in all pictures and he ruefully muttered "I wish I was photogenic". Abi quickly jumped up and said "I know how Filipinos manage to look good in pictures and I can teach you". Abi's technique was a 3-step process. (1) Tilt your head towards the camera as if you are going to get into it (2) Smile showing all (or as many as possible) your teeth (3) Slightly open the mouth to indicate extra happiness. This apparently also serves to open the eyes wider and make you look cheerful. One thing must be said about Vishy, he is a diligent student. He practised it a few times and then mastered the art. He strongly believes in this technique and is willing to teach anyone/everyone who is interested. He also has a pre-post photo to show that it works. In the spirit of being honest, I also tried the technique to find out what all the fuss is about. I have a couple of horrendous looking photos to show for my efforts. Hence it does not work for all. If you are still interested, Vishy is most certainly willing to teach.

We reached Singapore at 8:30pm, ate a quick dinner and crashed ! These day trips are really tiring..what say T?

Bihar Travelogue (Ekma - Varanasi - Chennai)

Ekma – Varanasi
I bought a ticket to Varanasi at the station. Wise from my previous experience, I got into a general (unreserved) compartment. There was absolutely no place to sit. So much so that some people tied their dhotis (spare ones, not the ones that they were wore) to rods in the compartment and grills on the window and made hammocks where they rested peacefully. The train stopped at every small station and was so slow that I felt like I could run along the train and keep up with it’s speed. The only empty space I found in the compartment was the overhead luggage carrier above the seats. I climbed up and waited for someone to leave so I could pounce on their seat. This was a foolish hope since everyone was well-aware that once they got up, they would never get to sit again. Hence everyone stuck to their seats like fevicol ka mazboot jod.

Reached Varanasi at 3pm. Incidentally it is the oldest living city in the world. Nana had spoken to his friend in Varanasi (who was a teacher at the Sanskrit University) to help me with accomodation and getting around the city. I took an auto and went to the Sanskrit University. I asked around for Mishraji, but no one knew him. I spent an hour unsuccessfully trying to find him and missed the view of sunset over the Ganga in the bargain. So I made my way to Dashashwamedh Ghat and got a room in a small hotel where I would be put up for 2 nights. Varanasi has a 7km long sweep of 100 bathing ghats which form the western bank of the river Ganga. Most ghats are used for bathing, but some are also used for cremating bodies. Dashashwamedh ghat is among the most sacred of them and it is believed that pilgrims who bathe here will have their wishes fulfilled. I freshened up and went to the ghat where the evening aarti was being conducted. After the aarti I sat by the banks of the river just admiring the majestic river, pious ghat and ardent pilgrims. There were people offering the pilgrims a boat ride in the ganga at night. I didn’t want to risk going for a ride at night on a rickety boat, so I made my way back to the hotel.

When I reached the hotel, it would have been around 9pm, but people were already fast asleep on the roads. I saw that the gates to my hotel were shut and locked with a heavy-looking chain and lock. I jumped over rows of people sleeping in front of the gate and woke up the watchman. He asked for my name, room no, identity and purpose of visit. After having answered his question, I was still subject to his curious gaze for a whole minute as if he was contemplating whether or not to let me in. Who would have expected such watertight security in a budget hotel like mine. Anyway, after some more cross-questioning he decided I was harmless and let me in. When I turned on the lights in my room, I saw that all sorts of creatures had made themselves comfortable while I was away - 2 lizards, 3 cockroaches and a few mosquitoes. I tried shooing them away but it didn’t seem to work, so I covered myself head to toe with a blanket, hoping that they would ignore me and continue to do their thing.

Next morning, I got up before sunrise and went to the Kashi Vishwanath temple. It is one of the most famous temples in Varanasi and is dedicated to Lord Shiva. Built during the reign of Akbar, it was partly destroyed when Aurangazeb built the Gyanvapi mosque at the same location. Today, the temple and mosque co-exist but this area has the potential to become an ayodhya-like issue. Hence there is a huge amount of security around this area. I reached the temple at 5am. They had just finished the maha-arti at 4am and opened the temple to public for darshan. I found a Panda, or rather the Panda found me. Panda is a temple official who can take you around the temple and explain its history, significance etc. As I walked around the temple, I definitely felt like it was a special place. My mind was calm, also because there were very few people in the temple at the time. At the end of my tour around the temple, the Panda asked me for thousand rupees as his fees for showing me around. I was completely taken aback. Then began a long process of negotiating with him. We finally agreed at 200 rupes since I convinced him I was a student and couldn’t afford to pay any more. The whole incident left a bad taste in my mouth. I came out of the temple to hear chanting at the river banks. This was the last day of my trip and I spent it sitting by the riverside.

Varanasi – Chennai
I had a return ticket to Chennai from Patna. Since there was no direct train from Varanasi to Patna, I took a train through Mulgalsarari and was on my way back home. This has definitely been one of my more interesting and fulfilling trips.

Bihar Travelogue (Hajipur - Ekma - Sitalpur)

Hajipur – Ekma
I didn’t have a ticket for this leg of the journey. So I went about looking for the ticket office. Got a ticket on an express train (Barauni-Varanasi Express). I waited at the platform for my train and had some 3 hours to kill. Quite suddenly, I felt weak and realized that I was running a fever. I sat in the shade and drank fluids hoping that I wouldn’t fall seriously ill. I remembered everyone advising me against going on the trip for fear of falling ill and suddenly felt stupid at not having listened to them and being more careful. After what seemed like eternity, my train arrived. I got into a reserved compartment which looked less empty than the others. I am a big believer in sleep and water being a cure for almost everything. So I found an empty seat and immediately dozed off. In sometime, I was rudely shaken awake by the ticket checker. Turned out, I had a ticket that only allowed me to travel in the unreserved compartment and I had gotten into a reserved, sleeper coach. I paid a fine of 200 rupees to continued rest of the journey. I was extremely embarassed at breaking the law but I couldn’t pause to understand this hierarchy in ticketing system in my delirious state. I dozed off again and remember being oddly comforted by the fact that rules do exist (and are enforced) in Bihar unlike what is given to believe commonly. Reached Ekma station at 3pm and my fever had subsided.

Ekma - Sitalpur
My maternal grandfather’s younger brother (called nana henceforth) had come to receive me at the station. He didn’t know which train I was coming by, just what time my train would arrive. After a bit of a search I located him. Since I was meeting him after a long time, he took me to a mithai ka dukaan to buy sweets. I ate some random sweet that was supposedly rasagulla. From Ekma, my village (Sitalpur) is a further 6-8 kms and the most common mode of transport is a tuktuk. Tuktuk in Bihar (unlike Bangkok) is a horsecart. I started moving towards the tuktuk stand but turned out my nana had got a cycle and had planned to take me to the village on his cycle. I was a bit skeptical about this, but it didn’t seem right to argue. So I balanced myself on the cycle carrier with a suitcase in one hand and a bag in the other. After what seemed like ages of delicate balancing act on a rough terrain under a scorching sun, I asked him to stop the cycle. I couldn’t take it anymore, my butt hurt like it had never before. My nana seemed sympathetic and after a short while asked if we could proceed. I hoped we were halfway to the village and asked him to confirm my hopes. Apparently, we had just cycled around the Ekma station and to prove his point, he pointed to the station building. I was most disappointed and tried to think of a way to get out of riding on a cycle. There was none so I resigned to fate and sat back on the cycle. On the way to Sitalpur, this incident happened atleast 5 times – me requesting to stop the cycle and my butt numb with pain, nana giving an update on our location and patiently waiting till I got back to senses, me getting back on the cycle hoping for the pain to end. Eventually, we did reach the village in one piece at 4:30pm when it was still quite hot.

The house was crowded with lots of people whom I hadnt met before. Again, no electricity. I thought it was a routine power cut but apparently electricity is available only during election times. Hence people hope for frequent elections. I freshened up and went on a small walk to the village temple. Everyone seemed to know each other and asked nana about who I was. He introduced me to some old friends. I visited a few relatives’ houses after sunset. They were drinking chai in the light of lanterns. As we were talking, I saw something move in the bushes. It seemed like a dog. But my nana informed that it was more likley to be a jackal, since there are a lot of them around the village and they move about during the night. That night I slept on the roof with some 15 other people since the house was stuffy. I fell asleep while trying to identify different constellations on this cloudless, still night.

Next morning, I went to the village market to buy vegetables and lazed around during the day after that. In the evening, a few children were playing cricket. I joined them and was made to keep wickets. It started getting dark and the children decided to go home but I hadnt got a chance to bat yet. When I asked them, they made excuses about how their mom would scold them if they didn’t return immediately and hence couldn’t wait for me to bat. In a matter of minutes, I was the only one left standing by the stumps, bat and ball having been claimed by their owners. So I went to the village and made a few STD calls from the lone phone in the village.

Sitalpur - Ekma
I had to catch a train to Varanasi from Ekma at 9am next morning. I somehow managed to convey to nana that I couldn’t possibly ride on the bicycle again. So we waited for the Trekker to come and pick us up. But the trekker was delayed and nana panicked that I might miss my train. He asked his son to get the bicycle since there wasn’t any other option. I was really scared and fervently prayed for the trekker to just appear. Seconds and then minutes passed with nana worrying about missing the train and me worrying about more immediate matters. I opened my eyes hoping to see the Treker, but saw the dreaded cycle instead. There really was no option now, my God had let me down. I climbed on to the cycle and immediately memories of the previous experience came rushing back. I could have cried. We reached the end of the road when suddenly the trekker miraculuously appeared. I quickly got off the cycle and hugged the trekker with a feeling of relief and happiness. I took nana’s blessings and was on my way to Ekma in a comfortable trekker.

Bihar Travelogue (Chatra - Gaya - Patna - Hajipur)

Chatra – Gaya - Patna
From Chatra, I planned to go to my maternal village, passing through Gaya and Patna en route. I had planned to take a bus from Chatra to Gaya and then a train from Gaya to Patna (distance of 90 km). At 5pm, I boarded a bus from Chatra to Gaya. There is a stretch of land just outside Chatra (on way to Gaya) which is a naxal area, hence unsafe to travel after dark. I had been advised by Dadi that in case the bus was looted I should just hand over all my belongings to them and I would be safe. It was on this route that choti dadi’s bus was looted. The naxals just stop the bus and everyone hands over whatever little they happen to be carrying on them. It is usually peaceful as long as you listen to them. Anyway, nothing of the sort happened with me.

Naxalites are radical, often revolutionary communists born out of a sino-soviet split in the late 60s. Their name comes from Naxalburi, a village in West Bengal, where they led their first revolution. Ideologically they believe in Mao and his peasant revolution. Today, they are still very active, with a strong-hold in Bihar-Jharkhand.

I personally feel that Naxalism is pure and simple terrorism which disguises itself with terms “class struggle” and “social justice”. Prime minister Manmohan Sigh has called out Naxalism as the single biggest threat in India, but nothing has been done about it.

I had an uneventful journey and reached Gaya at 9pm. There was a significant difference in the faciltities available for comfortable travelling in Ranchi and Gaya. Gaya is an important pilgramage place for Buddhists and 15-20,000 foreign tourists (mostly from other asian countries) visit this place in a year. I found a small restaurant near the railway station and ate leisurely. My train to Patna was scheduled at 2:30am. I had quite some time to kill before my train arrived. I made my way to the waiting room at the station. The waiting room was more than full and people seemed quite at home – some having their dinner, some spread blankets on the floor and were peacefully asleep and a few others made themselves comfortable on the chairs in the waiting room. I was reading my book and probably dozed off when suddenly there was a commotion. Apparently, one man hit another man in his sleep and it had become a full-blown fight with everyone in the waiting room taking one side or the other. I decided to take a walk for a while to avoid becoming a part of the fight. I found a tea-stall and had chai in the kulhad – one of Laloo’s PR activities during his stint as the railway minister. The only other people on the platform were a group of army men. I heard an announcement on the speaker that my train – Ranchi patna Express – was delayed by 30 mins. So I half-heartedly went back to the waiting room. Complete peace in the room as if the fight had never happened. My train finally arrived only at 5am in the morning. I stood at one end of the platform since my compartment was S9. When the train arrived, I realized I was at the wrong end because I was standing in front of S1. I quickly ran to the other end and found that there was no S9 in the train. I ran back the length of the train looking into each compartment expecting to see S9. By the time I reached S6, it was time for the train to leave. So I quickly got into it and hoped no one would catch me. Even though it was an exresss train it stopped at every small station. It took the train and me 5 hours to cover the 90 km journey.

Patna - Hajipur
Patna station is huge. As soon as I got out of the train, I saw a huge statue of Hanuman towering over the station. Patna city is on one side of the river Ganga and my mom’s village is on the other side. The river is about 4-5km wide here. To go to Ekma, I had to cross the river, but most trains don’t cross the river here since there are only a couple of railbridges built across the river. So I took a shared auto with 6-8 people and went to Hajipur (10-15km from Patna) from where I could get a train to Ekma. As we passed through the streets of Patna, I noticed banners of IIT/IAS coaching classes plastered everywhere. I even saw one stuck on a girl’s back but apparently her friends were playing a prank on her. Soon our auto started climbing an incline and houses along the road became fewer. I realized we were approaching the Ganga. Here we crossed the Mahatma Gandhi Setu, which is the longest roadbridge in India (4km). The sight of the Ganga was stunning. Since it was summer, the river was not full. Still it looked every bit the mighty river that it is. A strong wind was blowing and it was easily a few degrees cooler over the river than on land. As soon as we crossed the bridge, we reached Hajipur station.

Bihar Travelogue (Chatra-Tatra)

Chatra – Tatra
Chatra is in the northern part of Jharkhand and gained district status in 1991. Inhabitants are largely dependent on agriculture for subsistence. We have an ancestral house in Chatra called Lakshmi Nivas. This has been rented out now since no one stays in Chatra – ground floor to a Khadi Bhandar store and goldsmith, 1st floor to a doctor’s family. I asked around to find out where Lakshmi Nivas was. No one knew. But the city had only one main road. So I walked along the road. Some people on the way knew Khadi Bhandar and pointed me in the right direction. It was pretty dark now. Street lights on one side of the road were lit. I guessed that there was a power cut in one phase hence the lights on the other side were not on. I walked in the direction of the house thinking that Choti dadi would be so happy to meet me. She was in the village (Tatra) for Ram Navami celebrations (she travels from Calcutta to Tatra every year for this) and had come to Chatra for a day because she was told that she would be getting a phone call from Chennai and Tatra didn’t have telephones. She had no idea that I was on my way to meet and surprise her. Obviously she was thrilled to see me. There was a power cut in the house so we ate in the dark and slept early.

Next day, we went to meet some distant relatives early in the morning. Post-that, I had plans of roaming around the place. But the heat was oppressive during the day due to strong "loo". No one leaves their houses from 10am-4pm due to the heat. The heat also made me lethargic. I spent the day talking to Choti Dadi and reading the book I was carrying (Amitav Ghosh – Shadowlines). It was a fairly involved book and the heat made it impossible for my brain to comprehend most of it. So I gave up on it and slept.

At 4pm, when it was a little cooler, we got ready to leave for Tatra in a Trekker. A trekker is a shared Jeep that travels short distances - like from district to nearby villages. We settled ourselves in a Trekker that was about to leave. We got good seats and were fairly comfortable when it was announced that another Trekker was leaving for Tatra. Commotion all around as people scrambled to get good seats in the new Trekker. I guess its because most trekkers are filled more than capacity and the hour long journey can be fairly painful if you get bad seats. A tribal woman sat next to choti dadi and she was constantly cribbing about something. I was quite pained but none of it seemed to bother choti dadi. I wonder how she manages to travel in these conditions every year.

Tatra is about 18-20 kms from Chatra. Half the journey was on a state highway and the remaining on kuccha roads with fields on both sides. We reached Tatra at 5:30pm in the evening. Tatra village is a collection of 15-20 houses and a couple of temples. On one side of the village are the houses. Then there is the kuccha road that we were now walking on and a mountain stream on the other side. Across the banks of the river are the temples. In one of my previous trips to the village, I had jumped into the stream eager to try out my newly acquired swimming skills. I came out of the water with rashes all over the body and a high fever. Apparently, the water from the stream was used only to wash the cows and buffloes. This trip, water in the stream was barely a trickle given that it was peak summer season.

All families in the village are Dubeys. We passed a small colony of tribals who live just beyond the village boundaries. Ours is the first house in the row of houses that is Tatra. The house is in a state of disrepair and some distant relatives now live in our ancestral house. The house has a small kitchen and 2 rooms. The walls are made of mud to keep it cool in the summer heat. Outside the house, there is a courtyard with a shelter for a cow and a bullock on one side and a well on the other side. In the middle of the courtyard, there is a cot. In short, it was every bit like the village houses that I had seen in movies.

We all slept in the courtyard under the stars that night. Next morning, I drew water from the well and bathed. After an early breakfast, we went around the village meeting people. Most people were thrilled that I had come all this way to the village and asked me to keep coming regularly. We also went to our ancestral temple in the village for pooja. The priest told me that all the villages on the other side of the stream were naxal-infested, thankfully Tatra was safe (so far). As I walked back through the village, I noticed one small shop selling consumer products (there were no P&G products). Next to it was a post-office and at the end of the road there was an STD booth. It was my only connection to the outside world since there was no cell phone connectivity in the village. It was now 10am and the heat was unimaginable. Choti dadi suggested that we go back home till evening. Even farmers came back home at 11am and didn’t leave till the heat subsided in the evening. At night I slept on the roof. For as far as my eye could see, there were no lights. I laid back on my cot and spent a long time staring at the stars before I finally fell asleep. The next day I left for Chatra in a Trekker at 7am.