Monday, December 31, 2012

An LA Bite and a Vegas Night


My cousin brother (elder, referred hereafter as Dabhai) lives in Simi Valley, a suburb outside Los Angeles [referred hereafter (and in the title) as LA] with Boumoni and their 4 years old daughter Papan. As I had planned, I got to spend the last week of 2012 at his place. Unfortunately, he was just back from India after a three weeks off from work, so he could not take any more days off. And concreting the reasons for not going out on any long tour during the time was that I too was working. The return of Boumoni was not due for some more days and those were the days of pure bro-codes! Cooking meat, wines, eating cold, installing the new TV, ... then came the weekend and Vegas called! O ya! it was Vegas Baby!

Thanks to the traffic on I-15, it took us eight $%#@ing hours instead of 3.5 to 4 to reach Vegas from Simi Valley. But as far I could see, it worked out for good. It was ten-ish in night when we reached. Dabhai went to the hotel where we had a room booked (The Excalibur Casino, in case you...) and dropped me in front of The Bellagio.

Only a few days before this trip of mine, I was having a chat about Vegas with one of my friends and Bellagio came in the discussion inevitably. And for the sake of that friend (primarily), I attempted to record this world famous Bellagio fountain. That friend was the first of people whom I called from the sinful soil of Vegas. It was freezing here in Vegas and that friend was getting on a train near Bangalore, none of us were very comfortable talking at that moment but the chat was as equally worth as standing there and awe-ing at the fountain for the whole song. (Youtube did a great job here making this video unshaky).

It was taking time for Dabhai to return to the place where I told him I will be. So I explored a little bit more. Went inside the Bellagio. If I had had a co-sinner with me that night, I might have done something not-mentionable in this blog. But since, there was not, there is honestly nothing that catchy to mention here. Except for the fact that I went inside a few more casinos by myself, got a beer from a shop just below the Eiffel Tower, went into another casino only to see two ladies shockingly close, finding a silver pole very hug-worthy (no picture of that, sorry).

Honestly, there was not much of clicking as much there was ogling. One interesting Casino we went to - The Venitian. And that is where I came to know something new. The casinos in Vegas not only play with the pockets of the gamblers, but also with their psychology. A person gets tired, when he knows it is the time to get tired.  None of the casinos in this desert city has no clock. And The Vanetian goes a step more - the interiors have been designed in a way so that it duplicates a lazy late afternoon of Venice. And they designed it with as much loyalty to the feel as possible - water canals, gondolas, singing gondoliers (singing in Italian), and a 5pm sky 24x7x365. It was very difficult to bring to consciousness that it is past midnight just outside the doors behind me and there was a frustrating 8 hours drive earlier that evening.

After going up and down the most famous and most illuminated road strip in the world, we finally went to the casino of The Excaliber. And as it turned out, Roulette was the game enjoyed the most by my brother. I followed his lead, but i don't think any elder that night was less proud of his younger brother for his performance on that numbered board and that small white ball. And again, it was clear that the casinos only want you keep being inside. They were ready to serve off free drinks and cigarettes (and the way those ladies ask you, sometimes, in black bunny dresses, you find it morally criminal to refuse to take a drink) as long as you are on a table and turning your pockets inside out. My cash graph went on like the worst sinusoidal curve ever - 100 then 80 then 160 then 000 dollars. And it was these were not even close to what people were throwing away (at times more than my bi-weekly salary!).
The night ended at 4am and after an idle wake up and brunch, we checked out to find that Vegas is also a place which almost dies with sunlight. In comparison to the most happening place on the planet at night, it is appears like the city suffering from some serious of personality disorder.  Well, knowing that the MGM Grand does not hold the Lion's show anymore, we left the city and reached home later that evening. 

Dabhai told me more than once to have a visit to the Universal Studios and to the Disneyland but I think he also knew that it is only going to suck if one is alone. On Christmas, we decided to have a walk on the Santa Monica Pier before going to a gathering at Dabhai's friend's place. But, before going to the pier, I went down the stoney-sandy beach at West Malibu, and touched the water of the Pacific. Thats 3 out of 5! The only ones left now are the Arctic and the Southern Oceans.
Later that evening, at the gathering, I felt very welcome as the "newest one" in the US trying out experimental chilli cocktails made by our host, having some out of the world fried rice and chicken and also criticizing some adjectives that should not be used for women (and some that are not applicable for the Kardashians).

Boumoni and Papan came two days later and by the end of the same day, I was feeling a couple of pounds lighter running after my 4 year old niece all the rest of the day. By the time I went off to sleep that night, there was delight engine running in me with the smoke of "its great to be with family during holidays" all inside. Next day was for the Griffith Observatory and this is the view you get the cliff of that hill.
That evening was about walking on the the most celebrated street of the town - The Hollywood Boulevard. Walking on the actual footsteps of countless stars on the Walk of Fame sidewalk, the Kodak Thetre (Academy Awards)... It was truly the most glittering part of this dream city. A picture of mine with the Batman, a handshake with Captain Jack Sparrow and some more ogling...

That night, it was a more than splendid dinner by Boumoni and I relished it to the last grain of rice for I knew, California is not a lets-pack-bags-and-drive-it-there place for someone who lives in Kentucky. Deep down a part of me knew that it is going to be a long time again when I will be sitting in the same table again (may be a year... not sure).

On Dec 31, I flew in to Lexington. It was not a very easy to smile and say "ba-bye" to Papan outside the LAX airport. On my return, my flat mates picked me up and we went for dinner at a local restaurant with desi style food with half the population my acquaintances here at Lexington... I could not have expected a warmer finish of the year.


Since it is winter, I have abandoned any more planes for any holiday in near future... But sure have seen something when the summer is scheduled to come.

Till next time,
cheers!

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Pensacola Beach, Florida

THUMB-RULE OF ANY TRIP: DO NOT TRAVEL WITH ANY CREATURE WITH YOU WHOM YOU DON'T GO ALONG.
Other than that fifth creature (masquerading as human), the summary of this post would be - the rest four of us had a brilliant time in Pensacola beach. Asish da, Vijay, Pradeep and me. And this is the trip I realized that I am really good in the seat beside the driver (the "shotgun seat" as they call it here).

Not even a month in the US and I am already in the Sunshine State of Florida. When people say "Florida" its either Miami or Orlando that comes to mind. But given the kind I am (a misfit in party beaches and an unamused being in amusement parks), I had to go for a place more filled with openness. Thankfully, the rest of the group thought so too. So, we headed for Pensacola - a 10 hour drive from Lexington.
Not realizing that the Jack D distillery remains closed on Thanksgiving, an extra 100 mile on the road cost us more than an hour and half more than what we had expected to reach our hotel in the beach town. With the excitement barely in containment, we headed for the beach in when it was already dark and I was glad we did. It was an innocently secluded it was - shining in its own white sand under the feeble moonlight. The best part was - no one else was seen around. We could see the water, we dipped our feet in it and re-realized that it was a night time at the fag end of November. It was a little thrilling.Next morning, the party sat out to see the sunrise. I was still in disbelief that I was actually in Florida. But after I stepped out of the car at the beach parking, I breathed the cold air, breathed it out with an unnecessary extra effort and told myself - "Okay, but get to business. Use the "awe" feeling in you photos."
  
The long thin white beach was still not crowded and had plenty of mindless runs. It was morning and the sun was only a giant "i" on the water and sky. The excitement in all of us took a formal shape when Pradip decided to just run... and decided to do it into the flock of gulls.

A drive on the road by the beach and you seem to be reaching the edge of the last land on this earth. There is the road you are driving and there is sand on both of your sides and then there is water, the blue which could inspire emeralds.
After having some breakfast at a gas station, it was time to do what they call "hitting the beach". The camera took some rest as the water-wears took positions. But honestly, it was not very pleasant. Being  inside the warm water was rather a more comfortable state than standing back up and let the (November) wind kiss you all over. Shivering, after 30 minutes or so, we all decided to stop convincing ourselves that we are enjoying the draft wearing those wet cloths and went out to get into something dryer. (After we were inside something dryer, i specifically noticed that ours was the only car in that parking lot which had cloths spread all over it for drying!)
As the sun traveled lower and towards the horizon turning red, some crazy idea came to me to ignore any kind of jacket on purpose and try to photograph the setting sun from the pier. Mr. Das had no idea how mischievously pricking the wind can be at the end of that pier which runs more than quarter of a mile into the gulf. To add to my annoyance, the sun looked only prettier after I had just taken a shot of it. I kept of clicking, strictly hiding my heat (cold) sensitive body clad only in a t-shirt and bermuda shorts, behind those neck high and a feet wide concrete pillars. Just like the way I could not let go off the setting sun, the wind would not let go off me.
 
Finally, it sat.
The night was not very eventful... some food... and sleep.
Next day was our visit to the distillery of the famous Jack Daniel's whiskey in Tennessee on our way back home. And a Thanksgiving feast was waiting for us along with many of our friends and their families at our apartment.


And by the time I had gone to sleep that night, I already had some ideas where my next trip was going to be.

See you in the next post,
Cheers!

Monday, November 12, 2012

Land Between the Lakes

Hi

Outside my India after almost a year now. This time its United States of America. My employer, my country's government and the government of the United States have documented my stay in America as "official". But those who know me, well know something otherwise very well :)

Anyway, gradually learning to walk and drive on the right side of the streets ('right' as in left-right), I had my first weekend out even before I could get over the jet lag. It was to a place called Land Between the Lakes. Oh! I am in the city of Lexington in the State of Kentucky here. It is one of those Southern states - the ones which have a musical, easy going and distinctly accented culture of their own.
With a GPS and a rented Ford 500, Ion (my flatmate) and I sat out for Cincinnati to pick up Sayandip. That is to the north of Lex. From there, we drove straight South to the most happenning city of the South - Nashville - the hub of Country Music in the Nation. And what a place is the Broadway street. Honky Tonks and Honky Tonks and Neons and Neons and crowd and crowd and me!

And it is nothing less than an unwritten law to get inside one these live music bars (the ones which I called Honky Tonks), get a Jack D and tap your feet and bum - either in the crowd or right in front of the stage where the band is performing.


Although I am not a party animal myself (at least not a clubber), but the culture was surely something new to be in the middle of. This was unlike those clubs in my city of Kolkata. Getting high is something not very primary here. It is about clapping and dance elbow locked with your partner in the sound of the live violin and mandolin.

Next morning we went out to the place called Land Between the Lakes. 
The fall colors had now started to go away behind behind the grey winter. Naked trees and a confusing chill (it takes time to figure out if you are enjoying the temperature or you need a jacket). With very few people around, when we reached this water front, I very prominent realization came to me - The existence of a human is very lonely.

All you are left with is the sound of the wind hitting your ear or the sound of the water hitting the stony shore. And that's it. May be your friend calling you at times, but most of times he is not. You struggle for sometime to keep those curly population on your skull from fluttering, but then you give up. You only look and keep looking, turning your neck to its biological limit over both the shoulders. You think that some music will totally go with this, but it does not.

And then breaks in the most viral feeling of this millennium - get some profile pics (a feeling you cannot help neglect and at the same time feel like polluting the magic of the place). And then you drive back, dropping Sayandip in Cinni and head back for Lexington.

Till next time,
Cheers!

Monday, August 27, 2012

Silent History: Murshidabad

There are events which change rulers, which change lives of people. And then here are events which change the course of a nation's history. There are places which are loud on every page of our history books. Then there are places which remain silent witnesses of the stories of treachery, of greed, of shame and survive ages. The Battle of Plassey is one such event and Murshidabad is one such place. I am no expert in history but I sure am intrigued what made us the nation we are now.

NH-34 is a highway only by its name. But the company of Kushanava, Debsathi, Sugata and Mousumi made the bumps and pits a little more bearable. Reaching the hotel at 1am is no walk (drive) in the park. But once there, the crew instantly chose to take a power nap for the day ahead.
Initially a guide-less roaming was proving to be irritating, but when we finally got a professional guide with us, the not-to-scale map printed on the back of our hotel's menu card found a place somewhere which no one remembered after that. First in our list was MOTIJHEEL and KALA MASJID.
The 'jheel' or a lake (not in picture here) is a horse-shoe shaped one and was actually custom-shaped for the protection of the queen of a Nawab here. Also, it was used to cultivate pearls. There was a signboard erected here saying: "The cultivation was done by trained professional and not morons, so do not try it at home." (Just kidding!).
There is an intriguing story about a hidden treasure in this mosque's premises. It is said that once a British officer discovered that there is a treasure locked up in an entry-exitless compartment inside the thick boundary wall of this mosque. He tried and cannon out the treasure one day but failed to reach the required depth inside that brick wall. On the very next morning, he died of spitting blood. I don't know how much true is the 'story' but we all saw that two century old cannon hole in the wall. It is still untouched.

Moving up that heated up day, we reached a very interesting piece of metal work. The JAHAN KOSHA CANNON. When we reached this place, it appeared a bit odd to find something important like this left open in the sun. But after touching the body of this 22 feet long devil, I came to know why. It wasn't freakishly hot like the iron grills surrounding its platform. It had a soothing warm heat all over it. Made out of an alloy of eight metals like iron, copper, gold etc., it is one of its kind. Imported from Dhaka (present Bangladesh), this cannon has a shot range of 6 miles (same as the radius of the atom bomb in the movie The Dark Knight Rises)
Actually, this was not my first visit to Murshidabad. I had been there about 11 years back, when I had just taken my std 10th board exams. At KATRA MASJID I was missing a camera very badly  in my hands back then. And even today, I could not forget that. I was glad that few of the shot which were just a blink of the eyes of that teenage boy then are now a proper jpeg files.
This mosque was build by Murshid Kuli Khan, the grandfather of the last free Nawab of Bengal, Siraj ud-Daula. It has a prayer area which can accommodate 5000 namazis at the same time.
During the last days of Murshid Kuli Khan, he started to go down the remorse alley. With all the religious and political torture he made his people go through, he realized that the only way to his salvation is their forgiveness. He made the arrangement of his own tomb under the staircase of the doorway though which Namazis were to enter and exit the mosque, so that the dust from their feet may fall on his tomb and he may gradually be delivered from his sins.

And where there is a Nawab, the business of luxury finds its way in spite of all odds. Four brothers from far away Rajasthan came down to Bengal to trade the exotic scent of the Kath Golap, the wooden rose.
From the name of the flower, the area came to be known as KATHGOLA. Now totally extinct from the area, this was a rare rose with the colour of wood. They made a splurge palace in the north of Lalbagh with a signature Marwari bathing arrangement.

Within the boundary of their palace, there is a temple called PARESH NATH TEMPLE which houses an idol of Paresh Nath, the first disciple of the fouder of Jainism - Mahavir Jain.

Under strict orders, I had to take out my shoes and cameras were not allowed inside, so I didn't go inside the temple.  Kush, Sugata, Debsathi and Mousumi went in and later described it to me. Standing outside, me and our guide- Mr. Sorkar had a little views exchange on the state of tourism of the town and the maintenance of the remnants. He told me that the tourism ministry is not totally ignoring the spots, but is surely capable doing its job better.

Then we went to the HOUSE OF JAGAT SETH, the Mahajan (and alleged co-conspirator of the murder of Siraj ud-Daula). Saw a pair sarees made of the world famous Muslin silk, common household  and business instruments used back then, a 400 years old Belgian glass mirror, a sensual portrait of the then famous 6'2" tall dancer Hirabai  and this underground passage to i-dont-remember where.

Next stop was NASHIPUR PALACE. Initially the place seemed to belong to a philanthropic zamindaar.
But as Sherlock Holmes has said, "It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data" I had to change my opinions once I came face to face with the facts of the building.

No need to use one's imagination on what happens when a merciless dacoit is made the revenue collector of the zone. (what was the Nawab thinking?!). By misappropriating the state taxes, he had build a huge palace for himself. The taxes were collected by inhuman means too. The defaulters were brought to the palace and were locked up in a dark cellar, only to be executed by hanging on a pre-fixed date in the Phansi Ghar (the Hanging Room) of the palace. Our guide even showed us the gargoyle through which the blood used to flow out to the outer sewer during the annual sacrifice ceremony, human sacrifice.
And, not surprisingly enough, Debi Singha too, during his last days, started to regret all that he did during his last days. But he did not chose to get below the feet of people. He chose to rather please the Gods. He made a whole compound  of temples for all the Gods he could remember from the Hindu mythology. Grandest of which was that temple of Radha-Krishna (which is just adjacent to the Phansi Ghar).
This seemed truly funny. All your life, you do all the evils one is mortally capable of for your very own greed and at the end, make an array of temples or get under the staircase to nullify them. How easy!
Then was the little spot where the history of our nation took its turn. The spot where the last free Nawab of Bengal was killed by his own men - Mir Jafar and Mohammad-e-Begh. The NAMAK HARAAM DEWRI. This hammered in the last nail in the losing of the Battle of Plassey and the start of British regime in Murshidabad, then through Calcutta, in India.

From end to end, all the tourist places are in a span of less than 7 km in the area of Lalbagh. A song of normal length (played in the car's deck) was stretching for two to three spots. At 2 in the afternoon, we stopped to have lunch. And there was no surprise that when Kushanava, Sugata and Pronabesh are having food together, the stipulated budget is at least exceeded. The day had roasted the right side of my face and made a tandoori of the left side. But still, we had the biggest attraction Murshidabad left. Under that weirdly cloudy sky and the strength-confused sun rays, we reached the HAZARDUARI.
The palace of more than a thousand doors (true and fake combined), stands as a symbol of the British colonial rule on the later Nawabs of Bengal. Previously used a courthouse for the three provinces of Bengal, Bihar and Orissa, this is now a museum housing a magnificent display of Nawab's armory and luxury. Leaving our cameras outside, we took the tour of the palace only to be awestruck by the merciless daggers, trick mirrors, ivory palanquins, royal furniture, collection of  handwritten real historic letters and documents and what not.

Just opposite to this palace is the Ghadi Minar or the Clock Tower and the BADA IMAMBADA, India's longest Imambara till date.
Giving a rest to our aching feet, the crew sat on the stairs of the Hazarduari palace admiring the remains of the grandeur of whatever is left of the Nawabs.
While walking towards the Bhagirathi (the Ganges) flowing by the boundary of this area, a complete rainbow (not in this picture) in the midst of the dark clouds and the bright sun did a good job in giving us a complementary thing to see. And nothing suits your walk better than a little bit of nostalgia.

Looking at the century old design of the horse pulled carts, a seat on the edge of that fishing vessel parked in the water, missing a few people on the trip, missing a few people in general in the setting where history is scattered all over the place. Yes, without a tired body you cannot appreciate these things. Guess, everything has an advantage.


The evening at the hotel was high on stories of supernatural (gods and ungods were equally present). And the worst effect of this was on Mousumi (she found it hard to fall asleep before 5 in the morning) and me (I, after a long time, was talking in my sleep). A jackpot sleep was reported by Sugata. Kushanava was anyway eager to fall asleep before dinner but once he finally did (after dinner and with a bad throat), he was reported to play football in his sleep.

Anyway, next morning we had only one place to touch - the KHUSHBAGH, the tomb of the famous Siraj-ud Daula. After assassinating him at Namak Haraam Dewri, his body was cut into six pieces and was taken around the city of Murshidabad for display.
After, the devilish satisfaction of those who found it amusing, Siraj was taken on the other side of the Bhagirathi and was buried at this place. After him, all his family members and associates were also buried in this place. Our curiosity on the supernatural was aroused once more here when the rickshaw puller here told us that the locals here used to hear the 'wailing of the Nawab' about 15-16 years back. I am not sure, how true was that, but I had no problem in digesting it as a nice story.
At times, Mousumi was remarking about the place "its just tombs and tombs". Initially, it sounds a bit waste of money to come and see only tombs - torturing rulers, victimized civilians, tombs of people sealed in them alive. But if one sits and looks at them as a reflection of the history, one can truly become depressed on what actually has paved the path of the society we live in today - slavery, greed, conspiracies and death.

My personal take on a place like Murshidabad is - Lesser such places on earth, the better.

Nevertheless, I had a fantastic weekend and wish to see more of my land :-)

Till next time,
Cheers! :-)

Monday, July 30, 2012

Few Souvenirs


The whole day today, the mental me was not "in a mood". During the last few weeks, I had the glorious opportunity to know what some of my 'close ones' actually think about me. But thanks to so many of you, it does not feel bad a second more than it should. Then came the Sunday and it began with a pledge of total relaxation. But with great relaxations, come great idle times. Today's idle time was divided into two things - first,  taking and enhancing photographs. Second, thinking about the 'real stuff' I got to hear.

And strangely, the things which were pushing my mood to something I physically hate, had something to do with the subject of my photographs today - few of my treasured souvenirs. People have been talking about me as a (quote) selfish so-called travel lover (unquote) along with as a few character-slash-habit-wise flawed boy (this later part is like a free gift with any 'feedback' I don't hear on my face, but just 'get to hear' by accident). 

This post is specially for those who are only busy in picking up the means to be happy rather  than going for happiness directly. For someone as stupid as me, collecting the things in the photographs below is a big reasons why I like to see my salary credited. 

A friend of mine says: "...nothing bonds human beings better than the joys and travails of travels. Travel always pushes you out of your comfort zone, teaches you more about life and makes you a better person." and I have been believing this for quite some time now.

Here I go. These babies came the cheapest of all that I have on that rack. Only rupees three each on the beach of Bakkhali. I bought these when I was there in January 2011.
The old lady who was selling these kept saying that I would look good with such white pendants hanging from my neck. I didn't argue. These were cheap AND elemental enough to show which kind of place I had gone to get them.

Later, the same year, Dad Mom and me planned to take a vacation together after a long time (last was Kerala in 2009, this was 2011). It was Guwahati and then Shillong. Near the Mawsmai Caves, the shop owner was showing us all kind of handcrafts, but this small key ring caught my eye. 

It is a carving of a human face belonging to one of the important communities of the hills - Khasi, Garo or Jayantia. Above that face is that of a yak (or a bull or a cow or something similar). What caught me most is the idea and the level of patience the artist must have put on such small piece of a horn along with the hard work.

Guwahati was not as pleasant as Shillong, but did have a place for us to stay, visit, photograph and buy stuff. Most of my time on that day was spent in the hotel we were staying. In the evening Maa had to buy some 'speciality' silk and I too had to let the various joints in my body move a little. The market area had things overpriced. But I didn't think this unicorn was a bad deal for me.

And after I was back from Guwahati, I got to know that my Durga Puja vacations were to be spent outside Kolkata, outside Bengal, outside India. But looking at the fact that Sweden is a kind of place where you cannot "just go" I agreed. A full month long stay (Mahalaya to Kali Puja) and I was back with tons of chocolates, photographs, some show pieces and again a key ring.

Before 2011 could finish, there was again a full throttled Bakkhali trip with the WASE army from my office but in March this year, a tour to Bangkok and Pattaya was in front of me. And there are seldom such opportunities where you get to know some of those basics about yourself and the fellow people on this planet which you promise yourself to remember and respect all your life.

This white shell was one of the numerous scattered along the beach of the main land when our party was back from the Pattaya beach. It had a layer of moss on it when I found it walking half the thigh deep in that clear water. But in comparison to the kind of things which the city of Pattaya sells, this was a lot better choice to bring back home. Moreover, I have a weakness for the elementary. So, could not help. 

But the memory of the first foreign trip (on a traveler's visa, not a business one) had to be a little more glamorous. The Suvarnabhumi airport helped me out here.
Innumerable is the number that could be used to describe the number of 'elephant' souvenirs available there. But for some reason, I wanted to take back home something of what I had actually seen in that country. And this was just the thing. No matter where we went, we got this greetings from the Thai people, very much like we Indians (at least textbook Indians) - The palms pressed against each other put up in front and a bowed head.

Huh... These were the pictures which were clicked till a few complicated things crept in me (my mind is not a soap opera script yet so that it will be able to habituate itself to such melodramatic things so quickly, hence I called the clicking off for the day).

But after I had that an awesome roller coaster conversation with one my friends on almost every topic on this world (I think we didn't discuss only about the medicine for common cold) I can see myself ending my weekend on a good note :)

I am sure, I am still due to get a lot of those not-so-good-to-hear but good-to-know stuff about myself from both expected and unexpected sources. So I will put up the rest of my showcase babes sometime later.

Till then,
Cheers :)

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Clouds, Rain and Mandarmani

First thing first...

“Mrigank, Malobika, Avisek, Jayasree, Manoj, Jyoti, Kamalendu,
Thank you for the trip. I mean it.”

A quick thought at the office in the middle of the week, some quicker agreements, some useful research, balancing the budget and in the end all was set for Mandarmani. Eight heads but more than just eight hearts. The week finally ended and Kolkata saw our waving hands when we rode NH6 towards Kolaghat. From there, NH41 till Nandakumar and from Nandakumar SH4 to a cross road called Chawlkhola. From there a 15km drive southwards to Mandarmani.

The weather overall could not have been better. To everybody’s delight it rained a very soothing and balanced amount and people expressed their agreement with the meteorological thoughts of the sky of West Bengal by trying to suppress the voice of the singers from the car’s music system with their own (in a good way).

A totally energy filled four hours and we were at our beach resort. Once the bunch had witnessed the water, it was very hard (even for a hydrophobic like me) to stay away from it. During the high tide hours, the water is at the very footsteps of the resort. Needless to say, I put my camera to rest and joined in the party. The waves are of the perfect height for sea bathers and if one is only able to stay away from those submerged boulders during the high tides, it is a very (very) refreshing experience (duh!).

I came out of the water before anybody else as the clouds had now stopped making those marvelous patterns. I wanted to capture those which were still left in the view.
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After everybody was out of the water (and dried off) and had a good lunch, the exploration of the beach begun. The water had now receded and a good width of the sandy stretch between the sea and the hotel was available for us to walk.

-->We had more than two hours with us before we had to place the order for dinner. (before 7 in the evening you have to place that so that things get ready by 9). Now everybody was only enjoying the atmosphere. Some the wind, some the drizzle, some the lonliness.

-->Suddenly, when the we-are-in-a-group air came back we all decided to take an almost  a kilometer long ride in those motor operated van rickshaws to explore the coastal stretch a bit more. The most magnificant thing that I was lucky enough to witness was the reflection of the clouds. I have seen glamorous sunsets on various beaches, but such a magnificant overcast weather was a first time experience.
The group I was with, strangely enough, was not busy in getting themselves photographed much here. There is a strange urge in everyone of us to tell the world – "look, I was here". But in that evening I think, it was more about inhaling the atmosphere of Mandarmani than making arrangements of the proofs of travel.
To be able to meet that ‘only me’ in that wide open space does take you a little above the tangled materialistic thoughts. (Although, this was more powerfully experienced by me later, the next morning. Will come to it).

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By the time we were back, without witnessing a proper golden sunset, we saw the entire sky (and its reflection on the earth and sea) turning pure blue. Upon looking at this picture, one of my friends had said: "It feels sad". Truly speaking, the colour  did bring out a little of those violin strokes from my past too which have still remained unbalanced.

When it grew darker, my camera finally displayed an empty battery and signalled me to actually join the group to enjoy a tea in that breeze. After the tea and snacks, Avisek, Kamalendu, Manoj and I had a funny ordeal in the rain to find a particular way, via a bus stand, and then to get back to our hotel. Once back, all of us had a fantastic adda-cum-bakwaas session at the top of the resort's sliding board (ssilip as it got termed later among us). After the dinner, the session took place On the Rocks during the High tides.

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Next morning, I was the one to wake up first and go out in the beach to see sunrise. Sadly it was still cloudy. But I was lucky enough to carry my music player with me when I went out in that ungodly hour.
When you are alone in that first light of the day with such an open space all around you accompanied by the most final sound for a land dweller, the waves, you truly start to believe that there is someone called you, exists. It is not a feeling of lonliness that creeps inside you, but a feeling of love for some simple facts like “yes, I too can see, I too can listen”. And half of the credit for such a feeling goes to the poetry (called Imran’s poetry) being played in my music player then. Written by Mr. Javed Akhtar, narrated by his son Farhan Akhtar from the movie Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara. I know how I kept my aching throat under control. But the eyes were tougher to tame. Thankfully noone was close enough to make me feel embarrassed.

-->Before the rain started for the day, I got a little time to explore the shore. The water again had went back during the night. There were water holes like this all over the beach which, upon having a closer look, were giving away some curios forms to see.

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After some more time, the rain started. The hotel had open shades with straw roofs facing the beach. It was a treat to just sit there getting a little wet with the rain carried in by the wind, listening to some music, talking to a few starngers about the good and bad of the place, sharing a few jokes with them and looking at the sea through the falling droplets.
 
-->Everybody else from our party started to wake up gradually. It was raining rather a bit heavily but the satisfaction after a perfect sleep on everybody’s face was making it sunny enough. People are stressed enough in office. The morning made the break look a well deserved one.

During breakfast, we got the news that the rain has worsened the road to Mandarmani Mohona which we were planning to visit after checking out. So, we decided to go to the Digha Mohona instead. Mohona is a Bengali word for the place where a river meets the sea, a canal mouth. It took a drive of about half an hour to reach this place.
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I dont know which river exactly comes and meets the sea here (nor I did any research), but whichever one does, does turn really wild upon meeting with its superclass. It starts to show waves in itself and it becomes very difficult to say, more so during the high tides, where it seizes to become a river and starts boasting of being Bengal's Bay.
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But this was not all. A path made of concrete blocks goes a little inside the waters and our party was lucky enough to see the wild side of the untamed shore. Most of our cloths got wet with the random slaps of the waves on the block, but if you are able to keep your cameras dry, you would find the experince of standing on that four feet wide way amusingly thrilling.

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After getting my jeans completely splased with the sea water, I decided not  to stay there anymore. There were water drops seen on the sensitive areas of my camera too. So, for the sake of that device I headed back to our vehicle.

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The place basically serves as a wholesale market for fishermen and the traders. One reaches the Mohona after walking through the huge market (a walk of roughly five minutes).
There is a road wide enough for a vehicle to pass easily but believe me when I say, you will be able to inhale some air only when you have reached in front of the gent’s saloon in the middle of the market which smells of shaving cream and aftershave. During rest of the road, its better that you hold your breath.
From the Mohona, we went a little ahead to the town of Old Digha. There was a long photo session there also, then there was a bargaining chapter for cashew nuts and then a lunch.

Thanks to the decision by Kamalendu to bring a USB drive stuffed with some fabulous songs and the occasional stunt-driving by our driver on the highway, we had no trouble in staying awake even on our journey back to Kolkata. The ladies although enjoyed a short post lunch nap but I am sure hey were finding it rather difficult due to the noise-over-the-cards in the rearmost seats by the other boys.

Roughly around 5 in the evening, we were closing Kolkata. On passing the last toll-gate, the sight of the Vidyasagar Setu with that clear sky in its backdrop filled in a sense of relief. No matter where I go and how much I enjoy the entire tour, the feeling of “yes, I am home now” is the most relaxing one.
Must say, this Mandarmani trip was much more fulfilling than a few more I had taken in the past. If you guys get some time, you can try out this place. But be sure to pack your best buddies, your good health, your camera, your music player and if you want, your alarm clock!
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Till next time,
Cheers! :)