Life Calling

Mr. Odisha 50th State Body Building Championship

2012-01-29T08:46:00.000-05:00

(As reported by media correspondent Sandeep Kochar (for truth is, indeed, stranger than fiction).

Mr. Odisha 50th Senior State Body Building Championship

For complete picture set, click here

Contestant in the Mr. Odisha 50th Senior State Body Building Championship

It's just about dusk, and I am standing on a raised platform at the edge of the wall surrounding the Hindu Lingaraj Temple, dedicated to Lord Shiva and the holiest of temples in Bhubaneswar in the state of Orissa, India, rapt in wonder at the grace and beauty of the main shrine and sprawling temple complex of this 10th century edifice. It's a living, functioning, breathing temple and it's the period of the Makar Sankranti - in Hindu astrology a period that marks the time of the transmigration of the Sun from Dhanu rashi (Saggitarius) to Makara rashi (Capricorn), a major Hindu festival that is celebrated as the start of the harvest season in several parts of India - and there is a a mass of humanity in and around the temple.

The magnificent Lingaraj Temple, in Bhubaneshwar, Orissa. Built in the 10th century, it is dedicated to Lord Shiva and a prime example of Kalinga architecture.

Suddenly, just over my left shoulder, India's current pop anthem - Why This Kolaveri Di - blares loudly over loudspeakers, followed by other raunchy Bollywood numbers, drowning out the sound of holy chanting, temple bells and general din and clamor. I am startled and aghast: devotees will not tolerate this abasement and someone is going to be beaten up tonight. I climb down to seek the source of this vile noise and I am astonished at what I see: right next to the temple entrance, on its eastern edge, there is a stage facing a few rows of chairs, enclosed by a metal barrier. Flowers decorate the base of the stage. A huge banner runs across the back edge of the stage: Mr. ODISHA 50th Senior State Body Building Championship. I grin and shake my head. Only in India!

Beautiful, intricate sculptures of deities, humans and animals in the Lingaraj temple complex

My curiosity is sufficiently piqued, so I walk up to the edge of the open-air enclosure. A crowd is slowly building up, but an invisible line prevents anyone from walking over: it's the divide between haves and have-nots, ever so pervasive in India. Officials, organizers and a few other people are scurrying about inside the enclosure, making last minute preparations. I'ts been a long day and my legs are aching: I eye one of the several empty seats longingly. I should make my move now, I say to myself, and walk over the edge of the enclosure and approach a pleasant looking official - blue blazer, white shirt and tie, grey trousers and all - and politely ask: "Can I have a seat sir?"

The Mr. Odisha 50th Senior State Body Building Championship

Something is lost in translation. He seems to be in a hurry, takes one look at my camera and tripod, and I am much better dressed than most of the other have-nots, and effusively ushers me into a back row of red colored seats saying something in what is presumably the Oriya language. I have no inkling of what he has just said, but I do hear the word 'media'. And now, his face beaming with pride and happiness, he jauntily walks over to another man, big and burly with a royal, thick and bushy mustache, and excitedly whispers something in his ear. Mr. Burly Man - clearly the boss - turns around, looks at me, and mutters something to his subordinate, who comes over to me, still smiling.
"What media outlet, Sir?" he cheerfully asks.

Mr. Odisha 50th Senior State Body Building Championship

Aha! It dawns on me. They have taken me to be a reporter who has come for media coverage. Perhaps they are not expecting too much media interest and are pleased to see a member of the press show up. Suddenly, I feel horribly exposed and naked. Embarrassed, and under duress, I cough up the word 'tourist'.
So, when he hears this, his ear-to-ear grin vanishes and is replaced by a taut, mirthless smile. He turns away and walks towards Mr. Burly Man. I notice that his walk is no longer that springy. He leans over to his boss and again murmurs something in his ear. Mr. Burly Man's torso noticeably stiffens up, and he slowly turns around and starts walking towards my seat. By now I am positively squirming in my seat and feeling very uneasy: Mr Burly Man, it seems, in his heyday, must have won several of these body building championships. At the very least he probably had guys like me for lunch everyday.

The crowd really swells up

I panic as he approaches closer. I get a moments respite as he is interrupted by someone else. Finally, he untangles himself and walks purposefully towards me, looking intent on giving me his undivided attention. Think of something, my mind screams! Mr. Burly Man is now towering over me. He lifts his hand, I wince and withdraw, but with a thick stubby finger he only points at my tripod and says: "Not allowed. You have to leave." My mind is racing now and I don't want to make an unceremonious exit before the crowd that has swelled up to a decent size by now. And then! A spark of inspiration and genius!

A couple of people in saffron robes - temple priests or disciples-- have clambered on to the wall surrounding the Lingaraj temple to better watch the Mr. Odisha 50th Senior State Body Building Championship. It's a limb-breaking fall but a fantastic vantage point.

I blurt out three words: "Google" "Blogger" "Sir"
For a few moments he looks at me impassively, motionless. The universe seems suspended and my bowels are contracting. Where is Lord Shiva when he is really needed?! And then, just like that, he smiles, shakes his head and walks away. I have no idea what transpired: perhaps he took my word or he appreciates my ingenuity or presence of mind. I watch him walk away, and then have to remind myself: Sandeep, breathe!

Mantri ji (Mr. Minister), the balding bespectacled person, giving the speech and lighting the ceremonial candle.

There seems to be a delay. Of course, I realize, the chief guest is late. Sure enough, about 45 minutes later, Mantri ji (Mr. Minister) - everything I had imagined, in kurta pajama, Nehru jacket, open-toe sandals, balding and bespectacled and chewing paan - saunters in, surrounded by his coterie. There is the obligatory speech and lighting of the ceremonial candle. Finally, the event can begin and the 55 kg category contestants come onto the stage, displaying impressively sculpted bodies. I turn back and look around: there is now a sea of humanity behind the stage. The top of the Lingaraj temple is lit and in its glare, I see that a couple of people clad in saffron robes - they are either temple priests or disciples - have clambered onto the wall around the temple complexes. They are precariously perched - a fall could cause serious harm - yet its an unbeatable vantage point form which to watch the championship.

I cannot help smiling to myself. These are travel moments that one can only dream of. But hey, I can't keep idling for ever. Time to start my reporting.

India Diary - Week 3

2012-01-22T08:08:00.001-05:00

The trip comes to an end.

- In Chennai, I carry out one of the most important goals of the trip: a visit to the orphanage (all children are infected with HIV) that I have been working with for the last two years. Their numbers have grown to 28 (when I last visited, there were less than twenty). It is heartwarming to see their unbridled enthusiasm and zest for life, this despite being aware of their illness and having lost a couple of friends to it in the last two years. The happiness on their face is genuine and they are dealing with their situation with more grace and dignity than most adults. The kids put up a dance performance choreographed by the incomparable J (for whom finding further dance training was a priority for me this time) and soon Beena T and I were on the floor with all the kids and then we were all giggling and laughing. The orphanage has also relocated to just outside the main city limits and this is probably better for the kids: the air is cleaner, there is more room to play and there is abundant greenery around.
Several of you have provided assistance or indicated willingness to do so for the children and thanks for your generosity. More about these ongoing efforts in a later blog, and in the meanwhile I shall be personally in touch with each one of you who has offered to help about the details of this visit.

- Preety and I head to Goa for a 3 day relaxing finale to the trip. As soon as we set foot in Goa we feel a calming effect: it is in the air. The tempo of life seems to have slowed down and everyone seems to be in siesta mode The weather is just perfect, we don't see a speck of cloud for three days, the Arabian sea's light blue waters are inviting and refreshing, swaying palm trees and paddy fields present a lush green backdrop to the sea, and our resort exceeds all our expectations. You get my drift?

- The landscape is dotted with churches, large and small, beautiful and some not, quaint and modern, a reflection of the 450-year Portuguese colonial rule. I find this somewhat disorienting, since in the last few days I have seen a surfeit of temples in Orissa. I marvel at the contrasts. Am I in the same country?

- I spend the languid days trying to choose between my two favorite types of drinks: fresh coconut juice sipped right out of the fruit with a straw, or Feni, the legendary Goan spirit made out of either the fermented sap of coconut or fermented juice of crushed cashew apples. Which one is better, I keep asking myself? Wait a minute.What is wrong with me?! One has alcohol (42%), the other does not. Matter closed.
Delicious, light, Goan seafood proves a marvelous companion to the drinks.

- during the heat of the afternoons, we retire to our rooms for a nap, turning off all lights and pulling down the blinds. The rooms are dark and cool, and the only thing breaking the sound of silence is the occasional cawing of a crow or the squeaking of the fan above. My body immediately goes limp and it is a deep, delicious and lazy feeling.

- we catch our Cathay Pacific flight to HongKong with seconds to spare. Our flight of out of Goa is delayed by 6 hours because of fog in Delhi. It's a nail biting finish, involving a high-speed, thrilling, swerving car ride from the domestic to international terminal that would rival any of the Bourne movies car chases. We are grateful and amazed at the courtesy of the staff of SpiceJet, who allow us to disembark first from the plane and reserve a shuttle to take us immediately to the terminal exit, and CathayPacific, who briskly check us in and whisk us to the gate in record time.

- We have a day to spend in HongKong, and we enjoy walking its atmospheric streets, visiting bustling markets, some sightseeing and enjoying some street food. The Chinese New Year is just around the corner, and locals are scurrying around, engaging in last minute shopping, arrangements and travel plans. The air of excitement and festivity is palpable.

- After a 15-hour direct flight (the longest single flight we have ever done) from HongKong to New York City we land to frigid temperatures and a blanket of snow (NYC has just had its first snow storm). The 70 degree temperature differential (from 90s F in Goa to 20s F in NYC) should come as a jolt to our senses, but its always good to be back home in NYC.

It was one of my most memorable trips ever and I hope to share some fun pictures with you over the next couple of weeks.

Namaste!

India Diary - Week 2

2012-01-16T21:29:00.000-05:00

Chennai, Mahabalipuram and Orissa. It's been some truly incredible experiences and fascinating travel.

- In Chennai I stay with my good friend Beena T, whom I ran into in a conference on AIDS in Mexico City. Since then we have become great friends and visited each other back and forth several times. Beena T is a scientist at the Indian Council of Medical Research and an amazing woman: full of enthusiasm, energy and a unrelenting sense of adventure.

- Every morning, a fish monger comes to Beena T's neighborhood to sell fresh fish. He usually has one or two varieties of fish and prawns. He comes on his bicycle, a box on the carrier filled with the fish, and a set of weights. I watch, fascinated, as he cuts and fillets the fish: every now and then his cell phone rings. Other customers are asking where he is on his rounds. He apologetically puts his scythe down, wipes his hands, and takes out his cell phone from a pocket on the upper left side of his shirt and answers the call. This ritual is repeated a few times. In between, he must keep an eye out for the crows who seem to love the fish and are hovering closeby.

- We drive to Mahabalipuram, about 90 minutes away. It was a 7th century port city of the Pallavas dynasty. There are some exquisitely beautiful temples there, including the Shore temple and Pancha rathas (Five Chariots). There is also a majestic lighthouse builit in 1900, situated on a hill adjacent to a 8th century temple, and with a panoramic view of the town and the Bay of Bengal.

Later Beena T and I have fresh grilled white snapper (grilled in butter and drizzled with lime) and the most delicious tawa fry (pan fried) prawns in a colorful shack on the beach. The masala in which the prawns are cooked is so savory. We wash all of this down with the obligatory Kingfisher beer, the heat of the day being kept at bay by a cool breeze coming in from the ocean, and the thatched roof.

- Chennai traffic can be wicked at rush hours. At one point our driver tries to take a diversion, and we end up in a part of old Chennai. The narrow street is jam-packed on both directions. I am so close to the stores by the side of the road that I can literally open my window and grab some of that delicious biryani that guy is cooking.

- Bhubaneswar, the temple city, in eastern India and capital of the state of Orissa, is a place I have never been to. I am visiting with my parents. It is said that there were 7000 temples in and around here, but now only 500 remain. The spirituality of the place is evident and beautiful Hindu and Jain temples are sprinkled everywhere. We visit the stunning Unesco World Heritage Sun Temple at Konark, about 90 kms away. I also had the privilege of visiting to the Lord Jagannath temple in Puri, one of the major pilgramage sites for Hindus. It is an experience I cannot describe in words. All I can say is that my faith, or lack thereof, is tested.

- I get to visit the the "50th Mr. Odisha State Body Building Championship", being held, remarkably, in the open right next to one of the most revered temples in Bhubaneswar, the Lingaraja Temple, as a media correspondent. But this story is so interesting it deserves a blog of its own. Look out for this.

- We are lucky to be visiting around the time of Mukteswar Dance festival, an Odissi dance festival held at the Mukteswar temple, built in the 10th century AD and one of the jewels of Orissan and Indian temple architecture. The incredibly expressive and graceful duet that I see, performed by Pravat Swain and Arupa Gayatri Pandi, with the subtly lit temple as a backdrop, is a lifetime experience.

- We return to Delhi, where I finally reunite with Preety after several days of each of us independently crisscrossing the country with our respective families. It feels like a lovers rendevous or a clandestine pact. It's a good feeling.

- We have an afternoon and evening in Delhi and decide to spend it, very rewardingly it turns out, in old Delhi at Chandi Chowk. We take autorickshaw rides through the teeming chaos of the area and make a stop to have mouthwartering, comforting paranthas (flatbread) at the parantha wali gali (the lane of flatbreads), an amazingly atmospheric crooked, narrow street where people pack small shacks that have been run for generations by the same family. Everything that can be stuffed into a parantha, is: I notice carrots, okra, cashews, and even sweet stuff.

- Later we walk by the beautiful Jama Masjid mosque and the vibrant market around it and savor kebabs at Al Jawahar and Tandoori Raan (a whole shank and leg of lamb cooked in the tandoor) at the famed Karim's, both located adjacent to the Jama Masjid. This is turning out to be an eating expedition.

- Everyone one should visit the Chandi Chowk area once in a while. It is an experience that cannot be conveyed in words, and for all our modernization and progress, this seems still, in a way to be India distilled in its very essence. Also, within visual range of each other, I come across a mosque, Gurudwara (Sikh temple), a Hindu temple, and a church.

It's on to Goa now, then Delhi again, a day in Hong Kong, and then back home.

Thanks as always for coming along for the ride...

India Diary - Week 1

2012-01-11T12:51:00.001-05:00

I am on this three-week trip to India that will take me north (Chandigarh and Delhi), south (Chennai), East (Bhubaneswar and surroundings) and finally to the west (Goa). It's always an absolutely exhilarating and colorful experience traveling in India. As I move past week 1, here are some of my impressions and observations:

- this is the first time I have come to India as a US citizen. It felt a little weird. At the immigration counter, I began chatting with the immigration agent. He was astonished when he learnt that there are now direct flights from New York to Delhi. Initially he had asked, " Refueling ke liye jahaj kahan rukta hai bhai?" (Where does the plane stop for refueling brother?)

I mentioned to him how nice the new airport looked. With a beaming expression and holding up four fingers of the right hand he said, " Jee Haan. World mein 4th best rank hua hai airport." (Yes. The airport has been ranked the 4th best in the world).

- every year I come - and I have been coming almost yearly for the last 10 years - I am a little more disoriented by the dizzying pace at which things are changing in India. There are new ideas, concepts, and innovations and several good things are happening. Sadly, infrastructure development is lagging way behind sprouting ideas and this is holding us back against a country like China.

- even though I live in densely populated Manhattan, I am astonished and occasionally overwhelmed now by the sheer mass of humanity.

- We have a lovely party for Preety's father's 70th birthday, one of the main reasons for this trip. Preety gives a touching speech and has prepared an interesting slideshow highlighting her dad's life.

- January is not a good time to come to the north. There usually is dense fog and several flights and trains in and out of Delhi and Chandigarh have been cancelled or delayed. The relatively new airport in Chandigarh does not seem to be equipped with fog landing/ take-off equipment and therefore doesn't inspire much confidence in the paranoid flyer inside of me.

- I have always driven a car comfortably when I came to Chandigarh, stick-shift and driving on the left side of the road and people not obeying any rules of the road and all. This time, my friend offered his car and a driver. It was such a stress free and liberating experience that I shall now avoid driving on future trips.

- the Delhi metro is fantastic. It's a world-class run operation, with clean efficient trains that have significantly cut transit times in the city. I took the metro from the New Delhi railway station to the airport in 25 minutes. This route usually takes about an hour or more depending on the traffic.

- As I was getting off my recent flight at the airport in Chennai, I was surprised to see several youngsters with iPhones in their hands. They cost anywhere from Rs. 35,000 to Rs 45, 000 without any calling plans. Mercedes, Audis and BMWs are everywhere. Malls continue to mushroom relentlessly and are populated with luxury brands. There always seem to be people in them. India now seems to have an insatiable appetite for the good things in life.

- At the same time, gut-wrenching, miserable, sheer poverty is visible all around. You can barely walk or drive for a few minutes before coming across some evidence of it. The divide between rich-India and poor- India has never been starker or wider.

- there was a lovely reunion with my classmates from medical school. I was meeting some of them after a decade. We were able to meet because of Facebook.

- Day after day I have had mouthwatering delicious food, usually at home or sometimes in a restaurant. The all time favorite continues to be a recipe of sarson da saag and maki di roti (Mustard leaves curry and India corn or maize flatbread)- a traditional Punjabi favorite dish especially popular in the winters - that has been passed from cook to cook at our home for more than a decade.

India truly is amazing and I am never ceased to be amazed by its beauty, diversity, cultures and contradictions.

More later...

Let's all travel NICE!

2012-01-07T07:36:00.001-05:00

The transport part of traveling - especially air travel - is now equated with stress: imagine harried passengers, long lines at check-in and security, insensitive customer service, diminishing amenities on airplanes, all kinds of baggage fees (one airline is considering a fee to use the toilet!), delays and missed connections, expensive tickets, lost baggage etc etc. Arrrrrgggh! People now go to the airport prepared to be miserable. It is built into the equation. But hey listen! Some of it is true, but most of it is not. A lot is actually under your control, and so why would you then want to start your vacation/trip on a negative note? Let us change the paradigm: let's make the process fun, easy, stress-free. Let's all learn to travel NICE! Here are things that have helped me to be a road warrior:

Give yourself plenty of time
Arrive with lots of time to spare at the airport. While everyone else will be rushing, you will stroll through check-in and security lines; you will leisurely walk around, check out some of the duty free shops, have a drink or a latte; read a book or watch a movie on your iPad. You will feel that your vacation has already started. Similarly, don't pack at the 11th hour. Avoid being rushed at any point.

Smile and the world smileth with you
Time and again I see travelers with miserable expressions when there is clearly not a situation that merits that kind of look. Instead why not smile at your fellow travelers, acknowledge them or say a few words. You will be surprised how much goodwill you get in return. You will travel lighter and with positive karma.

Be polite and courteous to fellow passengers and airport/airline staff
Let others, especially women, elderly and children go ahead in line. Help someone stow their baggage in the overhead bins. Compliment air attendants for their efforts: God knows they face plenty of abuse from travelers. Offer help whenever you can. Why not?

Pack so smartly and lightly that you never have to check a bag
That is a goal I am seriously aspiring to: never check a bag, even on international flights. I have always packed light, but this is the way to go. The benefits of doing so are obvious. (Now, this of course is not possible when traveling with kids). And if you think that you might miss something, remember that in this day and age, wherever you go, anywhere in the world, you will almost always find what you want.

Have an exit strategy
The majority of us are unable to splurge thousands on business- or first-class seats. There is a better alternative: exit row seats. They often have a huge amount of space in front of them to stretch your legs. This is a huge benefit on long haul flights. Now a couple of points: if there are two rows of exit seats, ask for the back row, especially on longer flights. The fronts row doesn't usually recline back. Secondly, some people may have issues about the location of exit row seats since they are often located near the toilets or the food galleys. I have never had an issue with odors or smells or any disturbances. The fact the most airlines now charge for exit row seats at the time of booking is testimony to the value of these seats.
Another strategy: avoid paying for these seats. Most people don't. Instead come early to the airport and ask for these seats, either at the check-in gate or the airplane gate; if they are still vacant you will often get them for free.If the agents refuse, choose seats close to exit row seats and watch them like a hawk. If they seem to be empty as boarding proceeds, don't be shy of moving into them.

No children, no cry
I have absolutely no patience at all for people who get irritated with other passengers' children on flights. Kids are kids, and they will cry and be fidgety. Be an adult and put up with it. You will be traveling with your own kids sooner or later. If you can't then choose other means of transportation.

Don't forget the bottom line. It's vacation time!
As I always say, unpleasant stuff happens during traveling and some things are simply out of your control. Just smile and shrug off as much as you can and focus on all the good things that happened, such as the fact that you are healthy, the security at the airport that makes your flight safe, your safe landing, of loved ones waiting to meet you. Think good, feel good! Start of your vacation on a sour note and only one person loses: You!

2012: Dream, Act

2011-12-31T06:25:00.000-05:00

The main reason for this post is to wish all my readers a Happy New Year 2012! And to thank you for your continued readership and support. I cannot even begin to tell you how much I enjoy writing this blog, and a large source of that happiness comes from my readers.

Since it is the start of a fresh year, a new beginning, why not briefly mention a few other things. Chiefly, the motto of 'Life Calling' for 2012. And a few questions.

The slogan and prevailing sentiment for 'Life Calling' in 2012 is: Dream, Act.

Dream: as in thinking about the things you are intensely passionate about, considering the possibilities, about planning on stuff that others may consider 'whacky' or 'unconventional' or 'immature' or just not 'adult' enough. I love this analogy I read somewhere else: basically, the gist of it is that as children we were told by parents and other adults to think BIG, of reaching the moon, of becoming Prime Minister or President, of being the next sports icon. Just reach for the stars and don't let anyone dare tell you that you can't. And now that we are adults, if we think like that, it is outlandish? Those very people who encouraged us before, and now spouses, friends and others, all want us to hew to the safe option, the narrow road, the accepted wisdom. If we dream big or different, you are being silly, not sensible enough, or going through a midlife crisis?

Act: as in everyone dreams, we all fantasize, but what are you doing about it? It is true that it takes a lot to overcome the inertia and comfort of your set routine, but if that is all you limit yourself to, you will have savored a very small slice of what life has to offer. If you are able to overcome the noise created by detractors, often people closest to you - and truth be told, a lot of the time people are just envious that you have the guts to try something different or dare to follow your dreams - you will find a whole community of people who are either total nonconformists or have nicely balanced the traditional and unconventional.

And finally, to a few questions. I try to ask myself a few questions at the beginning of each year. I stopped doing resolutions a long time ago: the term 'resolution' and 'inevitable failure' are now firmly linked in popular culture. It is accepted that resolutions are meant to be broken, and so if the diet lasted 3 months, or you tried a new hobby or skill for 6 months, and then gave up, the attitude is that, "well look, I accomplished something for a few months at least." Here are some of the questions I am asking myself this year:

How can I be a better listener?

How do I make sure I take Preety less granted for?

How can I be more persistent and persevere in the things I really want to do?

How to minimize or eliminate interaction with people or situations that bring negativity in my life?

How to live in the 'present', savor every moment and make each day count, rather than thinking that things can or will be better in the future?

But not too many question; that s is already setting yourself up for disappointment.

The best again for 2012.
As someone once said: "To infinity and beyond!"

Favorite pictures, 2011

2011-12-25T06:33:00.001-05:00

One reason readers have enjoyed 'Life Calling', so I am told, are the photographs. Here are 17 favorites of readers and mine. Each one comes with a caption and a small paragraph telling why the moment was so special. The view below is set to a slideshow. To see the album with captions, clicking at the lower right corner of the picture window will reveal a link to the album (which will open in a separate screen if you click on that). Clicking on the 'play' button will resume the slideshow.

My application for an Indian Visa

2011-12-17T10:07:00.001-05:00

Yes, you heard that right. I have stood in so many embassies, I knew this day would arrive, but was still unprepared for how I would feel about this. Two months ago I had acquired the United States of America citizenship. In a solemn and rousing ceremony, 125 newly naturalized citizens were ferried to the Statue of Liberty to celebrate its 125th anniversary. We were from almost 50 different countries: the largest contingent was from the Dominican Republic and China. From India? Only one. Kind of surprising.

So at the footsteps of the magnificent Statue of Liberty we all stood, straight and proud, our right hands raised, and took the oath of allegiance to the USA. And now here I was, two months later, standing in line with several foreigners applying for tourist visas to India, as well as other Indians who had become naturalized US citizens and were here for travel visas or to renounce their Indian citizenship. I was not in the main Indian consulate in midtown - a sad and rude affair, I must say - but another building nearby where the Indian consulate had contracted with a company to accept and review documents before forwarding it to the consulate. The agents here, if not warm and welcoming, were at least polite and professional.

In this sterile environment, I found myself standing calmly. Not there were any of the feelings I had envisioned that might torment me at that moment: angst at relinquishing my Indian citizenship, the guilt of betrayal, indecisiveness at the last juncture, a sadness and nostalgia. None of it. Instead, I realized that this was a rite of passage, engaged in by countless others, before me and and by more yet to come. I was proud to have been an Indian citizen for the first 36 years of my life, and now even more so to be one in the country that I had adopted. This was after all where I came to establish myself and seek my future. I was embraced with welcoming arms and an open spirit and this is where I have prospered, the land which Preety and I have now made our home. It's been a fantastic journey so far. I will always cherish and love India and keep going back and working on social projects, but my heart, feet and loyalty are now firmly planted here.

And then going back to thoughts of citizenship, while it is true that I am now one of the USA, in broader and more philosophical terms, the inveterate traveler in me would like to be considered a citizen of the world. It's a much more nebulous world out there now, where geographical boundaries are blurred by our current hyper-connectedness and ease of travel. I do, however, realize that I would not have had so many options to travel or control my lifestyle had I stayed in India. Another fact hits home strongly: in a life in which I envision abundant, exuberant travel and adventure (plans can be torn asunder, but one can still dream relentlessly), I know that inevitably there were will situations where my family and I might find ourselves in distress or stranded somewhere in the world. In that case, sadly, I know a call to an Indian consulate will be unanswered or met with an indifferent attitude. Not so as an American Citizen. On a lighter note, as an American passport holder I won't have to make rounds of so many embassies anymore to get tourist visas (something that I have actually enjoyed): a US passport allows me entry into most countries without a visa.

Sleepless in...

2011-12-11T05:43:00.001-05:00

I got out of the bed, Preety soundly sleeping next to me, and cautiously tiptoed to the next room. I stood there, stripped down to my boxers, body tensed and anxious, and looked at my sleeping friend.Things could get awkward here. I was sleepless in...

Snoring
Dorland's medical dictionary, 29th edition, defines this as" rough, noisy breathing during sleep, due to vibration of the uvula and soft plate; called also stertor."
I don't care what the dictionary says. All I know is that this phenomenon has been forever the bane of my sleep: a harsh, dissonant, jarring noise that plays havoc with my slumber. I have always been a very light sleeper. Preety and I were visiting a friend out of town. After watching a Bollywood flick well past midnight, we called it a night, with Preety and I taking the bed in my friend's loft apartment and he sleeping on the couch in the living room. The bedroom was placed at higher level then the living room, effectively serving as a partition in what was essentially one living space.

3.00 am
I was jolted awake by an assault on my ear drums. My friend was snoring: an intense, crescendo-decrescendo whistle and grunt, rising and ebbing with the rhythm of his breathing, the pitch increasing by the minute. I glanced at Preety: sound asleep. How could she?! I tried my usual first line of tactics to distract the snorer, which often quietens them. I grunted, coughed, sneezed. Switched the lights on and off. Mumbled a few words. To no avail.

3.30 am.
By now I was being tortured, my being tossing and turning in the bed like turbulent waves in a storm. This, not the snoring mind you, finally woke Preety up. At that ungodly hour, exasperated, she had the presence of mind to say, "What don't you look for ear phones." And that is how I found myself, in my boxers, staring down at my friend. What would he think if he suddenly woke up and saw me like this? A pervert, voyeur, fiend? A dear friendship was at stake here. I moved cautiously over the wooden floor, looking through the wall-to-wall shelves in his living room. Nothing. I moved to his work desk, opened several drawers, rummaged through some compartments. Nothing. Explored the bedroom. Nada. I was getting desperate.

4.00 am
Necessity is the mother of invention.
By now my friend was in full form, unleashing the full potential of the air, churning, like a tornado, through his nasal and upper respiratory passages. If this is your thing, then it was proceeding on a grand, operatic scale. If I did not do something very soon, I would have to resort to drastic measures (banging head on wall, jumping out of window, sleeping in hallway, that sort of thing). And then it happened! A flash of inspiration! My friend had just got an iPhone a few days ago. I had acquired one about a month ago and recalled that the box came with a set of ear phones. Now if I could just find the box! I entered his walk-in closet. Then opened another storage closet. And there it was! An AT&T bag. With quivering, shaking hands, I peered inside. I saw the iPhone box, opened it, and there they were: a brand new pair of white ear phones.

4.15 am
I walked back to the bed, grinning in triumph, showing Preety the earphones, holding them aloft like a prized trophy. She look at me with pity, as someone does at another who is without any hope. I got into the bed, plugged in the earphones into my iPhone, opened the music player and started playing Adele. Someone. Her soothing, melodious voice muffled out the snoring, and my body relaxed. Next it was Rolling in the Deep. I felt drowsy and tired and knew I would finally sleep. I paused the music, just for a second, to see how my friend was doing.

He was no longer snoring.

5 that got away

2011-12-06T22:55:00.001-05:00

These are some of my favorite posts, posts that were very personal or those that resonated with me in a strong way. They encapsulate the essence of this blog: personal reflections, travel, New York City, a sense of adventure, and quirkiness. With time, they got buried in the layers of entries and sub-entries of "Life Calling". I thought I would resurrect them here, to reacquaint readers, especially newer ones, who may have not read these blogs. Here are five of them (click on each title to open the link):

1. a Doctor, Death & the Promise of Life
Written during a very stressful phase at work, marked by a sick cohort of patients with a few mortalities. A visit to see my one-year-old nephew, Veer, helped me regain some perspective.

2. a Delightful Coincidence in Cusco, Peru
A serendipitous coincidence in this Inca capital brings back memories of a trip a month earlier to Savannah, Georgia. And a train of thoughts follow through.

3. Lessons from a Grandfather: Helping the Help
Messages and memories of my beloved grandfather live on and are a constant presence in my actions.

4. My Room with a View
Oh, what a view!

5. the Ethos and Pathos of a First Generation Immigrant
A profound paragraph in a short story by the writer Jhumpa Lahiri gets me ruminating.

Central Park, New York City

2011-11-24T18:28:00.001-05:00

A beautiful section of the park

For complete picture set,click here

This historic and landmark urban park, created in 1853, is a veritable NYC institution: it occupies almost six percent of Manhattan's area and is large enough to absorb both tourist hordes and New Yorkers seeking some nature therapy, without either faction stepping on each others toes. And yet despite its mammoth size, it has enough intimate spaces and distinct niches so that one never feels overwhelmed.

boaters in the Lake

It doesn't matter from which point you enter the park: the transition from urban congestion to verdant tranquility in less than a minute is a remarkable experience. The blaring of taxi horns, relentless traffic of Manhattan, and attitude of a million New Yorkers immediately dissipates aways, like a fire abruptly snuffed out, and one finds oneself immediately ensconced in Mother Natures cool, green embrace. The park is, quite literally, the lungs of this metropolis. This magnificently landscaped park has several lawns, meadows and walking trails. The largest of these is the aptly named Great Lawn which often hosts concerts and on summer evenings is a lovely setting for the Metropolitan Opera's summer recital series. It is a cherished New York tradition in which the lawn is blanketed by thousands of people with their picnic baskets, enjoying wine and sandwiches while listening to world-class opera singers perform.

the Great Lawn one of the focal points of the park. It is also a venue for concerts. The park has several lawns and meadows.

In all seasons, the park is a favorite place for couples to come and take pictures after wedding vows are exchanged

In addition to its beauty, what makes this park even more special is the dizzying variety of things to do (you may of course choose to do nothing other than find a quite, shady corner or your patch of sun and either doze off or read a book). The six-mile loop that runs around the perimeter of the park is a favorite for runners, bikers, and roller-bladders. Bicycles are also available for rent. There is a boat house where one can rent rowing boats. And in the winters, there are two ice skating rinks, one of which in the summers is converted to a public swimming pool. There are also several ballparks, playing fields, volleyball and tennis courts.Families with young children will find the park particularly appealing: there is a also zoo in the park, a historic carousel, a small pond where remote-controlled toy sailboats can be rented, and several children playgrounds.

the Bow bridge, one of the most beautiful in the park. It has been seen in several movies

Horse carriage rides are a longstanding tradition in Central Park. The buggies are parked on the southwest corner of the park. These romantic rides are popular for proposals.

The park is a also a cultural magnet: the Delacorte theater hosts 'Shakespeare in the Park' in the summer where legendary actors such as Meryl Streep and Al Pacino perform. A host of festivals take place during the summers, late spring and early fall. Sprinkled throughout the park are several beautiful sculptures and bridges. The park is also, unexpectedly, one of the premier bird-watching destinations in the country: more than 200 bird species have been seen, several among them stopping by during their annual migrations whereas others make the park their perennial home.

Driprock arch: the rust red brick of this arch contrast beautifully with the surroundings

All this is remarkable, considering how bad things had been until relatively recently. After a grand vision by its founding fathers, the park fell down on its knees at several points in its history. The nadir likely arrived in the 1970s, when the city itself was in the clutches of a profound financial and cultural malaise, and the park was an unsavory, unkempt eyesore where crime was rampant. Enter the Central Park Conservancy, an alliance of concerned public officials, citizens and philanthropists, and after an ongoing restoration effort involving almost close to half-a-billion dollars, the park has never been better or more graceful.

The falconer and his falcon. The park is sprinkled with several beautiful sculptures

No person visiting New York City should leave without seeing Central Park. In doing so, one is not only missing one of the city's gems, but also a good peek into a way of life for New Yorkers.

A 6-mile long road runs along the perimeter of the park, and is a favorite of joggers, bikers and roller-bladers.

The one-week India (or any long distance trip) made easy

2011-11-19T09:01:00.001-05:00

Most people would generally balk at the idea of doing a one-week trip to India or any other far-flung location. Given the long flying times (13-15 hrs), lack of direct flights, jet-lag, losing another day when crossing time zones, and the possibility of falling ill, it may just not seem to be worth the hassle. I have done a couple of these trips and I think that not only are they very doable, but can be very enjoyable and stress free. Here are a couple to tips:

1. Stay focused
These kind of trips work best when you limit yourself to one or two things. It may just be spending time with family, a friends reunion, or a marriage. Whatever it is, immerse yourself completely in it and get maximum quality out of the time available. Don't feel guilty of not doing much more.

2. Fly under the radar
Everyone need not know that you are coming, or you will be caught up in social obligations and visits that will eat up your time. While this may seem rude, you can make amends by a follow-up call and explanation or a gift.

3. Hit the ground running.
Literally. Once you arrive in your country of destination, and you need further travel overnight by road, rail or air to reach the final location, it may better to break up the journey and get a good nights sleep in a hotel. Trying too hard will only leave you exhausted when you finally get where you need to be.

4. Travel light
Cannot be overemphasized enough. It's only a few days, after all. No need to carry your entire possessions!

5. Food discretion
It is very tempting of course, to go for local restaurants and street food, especially in India. However, when hygiene and sanitation is an issue (and in India, it is!), why risk ruining your trip by an episode of Delhi Belly? You don't want the memories of your trip to be dominated by those of your sore behind!

6. Stay hydrated, all the time.
Drink lots of water. Eat lots of fruits and salads.

7. Direct flights
If you can find an international direct flight, it makes things much easier, especially if your travel is overnight and you can get in several hours of sleep. It also eliminates the risk that comes with connecting flights (missed connections, weather interruptions) and decreases the risk of losing your baggage.

Lots of common sense, some fortitude, an adventurous spirit and an open mind will go a long way.

Let's travel!

A day in the Berkshires

2011-11-04T20:30:00.000-04:00

A visit to this beautiful and scenic part of Western Massachusetts never disappoints, in any season.There is always something to do: outdoor activities, quaint New England towns rich in history, a thriving art, cultural and gastronomic tradition. Summer home to the Boston Symphony Orchestra at Tanglewood. A slower pace of life. A true balm for the soul. This particular day spent with my cousin, his wife and their adorable daughter in autumn was particularly memorable.

Views of the woods behind my cousin's apartment in Albany/Rensselear

A stop at a picturesque lake (near Albany) while driving to the Berkshires

The principal progagonists

The fall colors presented beautiful contrasts

We stopped to browse books at a lovely roadside bookstore called 'Down in Denver'

Quaint barns like this are sprinkled throughout the countryside

We had tapas at the Mission Bar in Pittsfield, some of the best I have ever had. This restaurant would walk toe-to-toe with any in New York City. Seen here is the mission tortilla del dia

The patatas bravas were delicious. To the left: the grilled caesar salad (the lettuce was grilled) topped with anchovies was particularly memorable

The restaurant had this door with a beautiful color and texture

Just when we thought things could not get better, we had this: chocolate cake and flan

Public art in Pittsfield: this town, once proud and prosperous (it was home to General Electric) underwent a blight, and is now again getting back on its feet. New restaurants, art galleries and farmer markets are marking a revival

St. Josephs Church, Pittsfield

Beautiful brick buildings line the main street in Pittsfield and other New England towns.

the Fall Colors of VERMONT

2011-10-13T21:50:00.001-04:00

For complete picture set, click here

We worriedly drove through the southern Vermont countryside, eyes anxiously scanning the horizon for the vaunted foliage colors of Vermont, desperation gradually building to a crescendo as all we encountered were wide swaths of varying shades of green, a gnawing feeling growing that Mother Nature was playing a cruel trick on us. I, along with Preety, my in-laws and close friends (and their adorable 3-yr old daughter) had come to Vermont - where we had rented a house in the town of Londonderry - to enjoy the autumn colors of New England, an annual holiday tradition. Last year, it was New Hampshire, so this time we decided on neighboring Vermont.

The next morning as we drove along Route 100 again, we were stunned: by some magical quirk, there had been a dramatic change in the foliage. Where green had been the predominant hue, it was now mostly golden yellow, with early oranges and also hints of fiery reds. The weather was also glorious: the sticky heat of the day before was now replaced by a fresh and invigorating cool breeze, which in tandem with a bright sunny day (the temperature was in the 70s) made for perfect conditions for a drive through the countryside.

Buoyed by our initial delight, we decided to explore further north and drove almost two and a half hours to the quaint, picturesque town of Peacham - almost at the Canadian border - in the fairy-tale named region of Vermont: the Northeast Kingdom. And magical this land is: imagine dense forests, hills and mountains capping the horizon, rolling meadows in which cows languidly graze, ancient and weathered barns studding the landscape, stretches of farmland where corn and barley fields shyly creep up to the roads edge, and a paucity of humanity and vehicles that makes this region seem untouched.

Peacham itself is a small town of less than a thousand people, and is one of the most photographed in New England. After we replenished ourselves on coffee and delicious, freshly baked cake in the town center - comprising of two stores, a library and post-office - we climbed up a hill from which there was a magnificent vista of this hamlet, nestled in a valley with the hills cascading in the background. The trees were beautiful and the paths were lined with fallen apples. We savored the moment in this truly enchanting setting. We also made stops in the lovely town of Stowe and a beautiful, serendipitous drive on Route 155 through the Green Mountain National Forest. At each place we wished we had more time to explore.

Still, we had a lovely time. The natural beauty made a dramatic and sad contrast with the evidence of the severe damage that the recent Hurricane Irene had inflicted upon southern Vermont by flooding several rivers: damaged and closed roads, washed out bridges, and houses that had been severely flooded or obliterated beyond repair. For a state that depends a lot on the income generated from the fall foliage tourist season, the recent storms had been a severe setback. There were many cancellations by tour groups and so we also felt good contributing back to the local economy. We really did not encounter any major inconveniences from the recent floods, and for those still on the fence about visiting Vermont, my message is this: it is a beautiful state, open for recreation and business. In fact, you may be able to snag a great deal. In any case, you will go back happy and delighted.

the SQUIRRELS of Peter Cooper Village

2011-09-30T19:45:00.000-04:00

For complete picture set, click here

These energetic, hyperkinetic, intensely curious, small furry creatures are ubiquitous in my residential complex, thanks to the hundreds of trees in whose hollows they form their nests. As I walk out of the door, I am guaranteed to be greeted by at least one of them. So used to have they become to humans, who often give them nuts, that their first instinct is to approach you in anticipation of a treat.

The more I observe them, the more I realize that there is a lot to learn from them. They never seem to take life too seriously, and are often seem to be in perpetual play mode, chasing each other across tree trunks and branches. Yet this is a deceptive appearance: at any given opportunity, they will hoard nuts, digging them into the ground or taking them to their burrows, preparing for the lean winter season. Their industriousness is never in doubt. Once they get to know you a bit, they can be quite friendly and open up to an entirely new species. And there is clearly an aptitude towards adventure and risk taking: I have seen them in friendly fights and frantic chases at the very top of the tree canopies, sixty- to seventy-feet above the ground, gracefully and precariously soaring from tree to tree from the very edges of slender branches, in a manner reminiscent of the hypnotic fight sequences in the movie Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.

Brilliant disguise

I decided to walk around with a camera and take some pictures. I almost felt like a National Geographic explorer on a mission, and it is surprising how much more I learnt about them after just a few hours of stalking and observing them. There is a clear difference in personalities: many were skittish and chose to hide or scurry away, while others would literally show up in front of my camera and preen and pose. I found out their remarkable ability to camouflage: looking up one tree trunk, I was surprised to see one squirrel lounging on a niche. To disguise itself from birds of prey, it had stretched and twisted its body along its entire length, and with its natural color and fur, seemed indistinguishable from the texture of the tree bark. It is also very interesting to see them emerge at the end of winter, all lean and devoid of body fat. As the warmer seasons progress, the fatten up considerably, gaining a good layer of adipose tissue that will sustain them when they hunker down in the cold winters.

A meal of a sparrow

There were some sad moments. My impression of them as benign, friendly herbivores took a blow when I saw one squirrel perched on a metal fence eating something: on closer inspection, it was an unfortunate sparrow whose entrails it was scooping out, spaghetti-like, clearly relishing the taste. I don't know if it had killed the sparrow or found it already dead. Once I found a baby squirrel that must have fallen out of its nest. I looked up and saw the mother at the edge of the hollow in the tree trunk, making clicking noises, at once anxious and aggressive, trying to scare away predators. I walked some distance away and watched for quite a while. The mother came down and moved protectively around her baby, but it was clear that she would not be able to clamber back up with the little one. Eventually, and with a heavy heart, I took the squirrel to a local shelter.

This one was very anxious to pose and preen in front of the camera

I am glad to have these creatures as my neighbors. It wouldn't be the same anymore if I didn't see them around the premises. They bring a sense of vitality, excitement and playfulness to the environs and enrich my living experience.

New York City: Walking the HIGH LINE

2011-09-18T19:26:00.000-04:00

For complete picture set, click here

I take the steps leading to this elevated park in the Meatpacking district, as I have done so many times before - alone, with Preety, with family, with friends - and yet each time the enchantment begins immediately. This is the power of the High Line (www.thehighline.org) , a remarkable project in urban planning and restoration: it's a verdant park, an artistic enclave, a tourist magnet, a source of local pride, a peek literally into resident's apartments and at the same time of such iconic views such as the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building. In short, it is very NYC.

The High Line was built initially as an elevated railway line thirty feet above the streets on the west side of Manhattan to carry freight and limit congestion in the city. Decommissioned in 1980, decaying and an eyesore, it faced imminent demolition until a group of people called 'Friends of the High Line' intervened to save this historic landmark. And what a remarkable transformation this has been: people have flocked to the High Line and officials from cities all around the world have come to learn how to develop their own version.

I love to start in the uber-cool Meatpacking district near west 14th street. I find it fascinating that at this location, towards the west I can still see a few of the remaining meat shops and factories, while to the east the trendy area and its cobbled streets is packed with fashionistas browsing Diane von Furstenberg and Alexander McQueen showrooms, streaming in and out of chic restaurants, or lining up for the snobbish, red carpet nightclubs in the evenings. From here the line extends to 34th street, easily strolled in about 30-45 minutes at a leisurely pace. But of course, you will want to stop at several points and appreciate the lovely touches. The vegetation is dense and intimate, and at some points where the line narrows, you feel you are in a tropical jungle. Beautiful flowers abound in spring and early summer. The gardens are imaginatively designed, and different kinds of plants are put in with the change of seasons.

The Hudson river is always in view, to the west, a constant companion. You can stop at a cafe or an espresso bar to rest your feet, contemplate your surroundings, and usually to people-watch. There are interestingly designed benches, pieces of art in themselves, and some actually roll on the railway tracks. An interesting addition has been a a couple of fountains, where the water flows lazily on the concrete platform in a thin layer: kids obviously love it and it's a great place to soak your feet on hot days. There are random art installations, artist performances, and artisans selling their wares on weekends. To the east, each street presents a sweeping, tubular view all the way to the east side of Manhattan. There are imaginatively created amphitheaters, looking onto and through a glass screen facing either an avenue or street: the premise is that you can sit here and watch a movie, which in this case is New York City, its thoroughfares packed with traffic and pedestrians, always changing and never boring, and with a constant backdrop of its skyscrapers.

You can get off at various points, but you may want to till the very end at 34th street, where several food trucks will await you with their wares. In a sort of a beer garden join the bustling throng of people on the large, communal tables and have a taco and a beer. There is stunning architecture flanking the High Line, contrasted at some points by humble apartments where you can literally reach over and shake hands with a real, living, breathing, authentic New Yorker. There are lush green lawns that will invite you to lie down.

And through this all, there are always the railway tracks, at some point unobtrusive and subtle, at other points in your face, metallic, rusty and solid, weaving in and out of the vegetation and concrete pathway, disappearing and then reappearing unexpectedly, as if to remind you that it is the star of the show and that it is the reason why you are really here in the first place.

Water Figures: Imagination, photography, or art?

2011-09-06T20:25:00.000-04:00

the Tango Dancers

For complete picture set click here

There is this grand old fountain in our apartment complex, surrounded by a lush oval lawn. It spouts high and mighty, but at the very height of the water, some 15-20 feet high, each stream of water seems to loose strength. Instead of each spout of water arcing down gracefully in an uninterrupted stream, it disintegrates at the very top, creating some very interesting shapes.

I observed this on a brilliantly sunny summer day, at once fascinated and mesmerized by the different shapes. I ran to get my camera and took about 500 exposures in about two hours. I boiled them down to these 15 'figures'.

What can I say? A wild imagination run amok? Photography? Stretch it a bit and perhaps it is art? Or you conclude: "OK, Sandeep has finally lost his marbles."

The beauty of it is, you could be right in each case.

Horseshoe

Don't think. JUST GO!

2011-09-05T10:28:00.001-04:00

We balk at the prospect of going on a very short trip, especially when the time and distance involved in travel are significant. Yet, some of the best moments can come in such trips, serendipitous and magical. We were faced with a similar dilemma: to go or not to go? It was Preety's colleague's wedding in California and because of our usual indecisiveness, the best option we found ourselves with was to reach California on a Friday evening and fly out Sunday morning. In effect, we had a whole day and a sliver of an evening in California and then almost two eight- to 10-hour days of traveling. Somehow, we pushed the 'buy tickets' button.

We were surprised and delighted by what a great time we had and the things we accomplished in this short time, all at a very unhurried and leisurely place. The wedding itself was very beautiful and graceful, with several nice touches. We managed to make to make it to the mehndi on Friday evening and the reception on Saturday. The bride and groom looked stunning and were gracious, the crowd was great, the dancing exhilarating, the drinks were never ending, and the food absolutely mouthwatering.

Early Saturday morning, Preety and I went for a coastal drive along the Pacific ocean and had a nice walk by the beach. At noon we were joined by Bik and Sheena, a couple who are close friends whom we have know for a long time. We were all hungry and Preety had found, through Yelp, a Mexican restaurant 'La Concha', with rave reviews. Not knowing much about Long Beach neighborhoods, we drove to the restaurant and to our horror, found ourselves in a somewhat gritty and seedier part of town. I would have not been surprised if a couple of bullets had whizzed by. When we saw the restaurant, our hearts sank even further. It was at the corner of a decrepit looking strip mall, with an adorned, bare facade that did nothing to allay our anxieties.

I was forced outside by others to do some reconnaissance: I hesitantly opened the door to La Concha, peered in and was taken aback. There was no real ambiance to the place, but is was clean and airy, well-lit with a few cafeteria-style tables and chair laid about in no particular fashion. The owner give me an inviting smile and I saw that the half-full restaurant was occupied by Latinos and obviously, no turistas.That did it: adhering to the rule "when you see locals in an ethnic restaurant, walk in, no questions asked", I cajoled other members of my coterie in. Needless to say, we had a lazy, family-style, scrumptious and hearty meal of authentic Mexican food in a no-frills but unpretentious environment.

Flying back from Los Angeles on Sunday morning, our plane was forced to make an emergency landing (!!!) at Las Vegas because of problems with the air-conditioning system. Luckily, we got ourselves rebooked on an American Airlines flight to Kennedy airport. An incongruous, funny moment: the Delta (our original flight) agent allowed me onto the walkway to the plane to retrieve my carry-on luggage (the crew had asked us to leave our carry-on bags on the plane), not realizing that the pilots were running the engines and the doors to the aircraft were sealed close. I shouldn't have been there at all. Not safe. I found myself at the locked door and not knowing what was going on, stood there sheepishly for a minute, knocking on the airplane door!

Anyway, all is well that ends well, no? The point is that the time was so short, but the quality of time we had was immeasurably greater. And just changing our routine for a couple of days jolted our brains and beings out of the day-to-day monotony and mundaneness, with an afterglow that will remain for days and weeks to come. Plus we have a couple of great stories to tell.

So the next time you have a chance to go, don't think too much:

JUST GO!

An Earthquake and a Hurricane in the same week

2011-08-29T20:41:00.001-04:00

What are the odds, seriously? As if life in New York City is not interesting enough already?

"It's an earthquake!" said my colleague, before anyone else in the room. He grew up in California and therefore with earth tremors as a constant fact of life. Sure enough, the building was swaying, leaving me with a very queasy feeling. We walked out of the room into the corridor. It was interesting to see different sets of reactions: a couple of patients screamed, clerical and administrative staff made a beeline for the stairs to evacuate the building, and some doctors continued walking around as if it was business as usual. My medical resident came up to me to have a note signed, while the building was swaying! After an interminable thirty seconds or so, the shakes stopped. I walked out of the building, in case there were after-shocks. There were hundreds of people outside the hospital building -bemused, excited, nervous - most on their phones trying to get in touch with loved ones. After about thirty minutes, I walked back into my office. My colleagues were all there. In fact, none of them had left the building at all."Why didn't you all come out?" I asked. " We had to make sure the patients were OK," one said. "Oops!" I said, turning a little red.

My California-raised friend said that they got these kind of tremors every month, and minor ones every week. Double Oops! Finally, another colleague (who did not leave the building) told me today that Californians were mocking New Yorkers who evacuated their buildings. Apparently people outside are far more prone to injury from falling debris and glass. Oops! Oops! Oops!

Well. I guess you live and learn. Every single day...

And then just a few days later, Hurricane Irene changed course in the Caribbean sea, gathered strength and barreled towards the Eastern seaboard of the US, with New York City in its direct path. For the first time, all mass transportation, including the subway system - the lifeline of the city -was shut down. Almost 370,000 people in the 5 boroughs living in low-lying areas next to rivers and the ocean were given mandatory evacuation orders. Being right next to the East River ourselves, we 'evacuated' and moved in with friends who lived further uptown. In the end - at least for New Yorkers -it was the storm that never was. Irene hit NYC in a much weakened and depleted state and did not cause any significant damage. My parents, who had been visiting, had just left a few days ago (they did get to experience the earthquake). Ironically, a few years ago, while visiting my sister and brother-in-law in Galveston, Texas, they went through the ordeal of evacuating in the wake of Hurricane Ike that ended up causing significant damage in Galveston. Now, if they had to do it all over again - in a region not known to experience hurricanes, on the other side of the country - I wonder what they might have thought?

In the end - when there could have been far more havoc from either of these natural events - things turned to be quite good. We were lucky. But by the end of the week, every New Yorker had just one question on their lips:

What next?

A Smartphone, a doctor and a dying patient.

2011-08-14T19:41:00.003-04:00

"God bless you for taking care of my mother," sobbed the woman, the pain and anguish clearly reflected on her face. "No need to thank me. I understand how difficult this must be for you," I said, still in a daze from the situation in front of me. It was one of the most incongruous patient-family meetings of my career: the woman I was speaking to was looking back at me from a window on Skype video chat running on an i-phone (the smartphone in the title), while sitting in a room in her house in a country in South America. She had been unable to get visa documents to make it in time to her ailing mother's bedside. The phone was being held by one of the woman's siblings; to my right was an elderly patient clearly in the terminal stages of her illness (the dying patient in the title); around the bed and facing me, some seated and others standing, was a row of family members, solemn and morose, some with shoulders slumped, others with a demeanor suggesting that they were summoning the deepest reserves of their willpower, yet all clearly wrought with grief. People who know me are aware of of my rants against smartphones - for several reasons - but here I was moved by its power and possibilities.

"I don't think your mother has more than a few days to live".
Prognostication, i.e., telling how long a patient with a terminal illness has to live, as even the most experienced physician will tell you, is a very imperfect science. Wild misses are common - much to the anguish of patients, families, and their doctors - and hence physicians are very reluctant in giving out relatively precise projections. We prefer to give a range - such as several weeks to months - often opting to err on the more optimistic side.

Therefore, despite the woman's obviously severe burden of illness when I first saw her in the emergency room, I was hesitant to say those words to the patient's daughter, the next of kin. I was also not sure what reaction to expect: I have experienced emotions ranging from mute acceptance, knowing nods, hysteria, anger, denial, to frank hostility. I was somewhat stunned when I heard a loud sigh of relief at the other end of the phone line. The daughter confessed to me that she knew in her heart that her mother's end was near, for she had seen her steadily deteriorate in health over the last year. Yet no one had given her clear information recently and so she had been somewhat bewildered about exactly what was going on.

Unfortunately, in this case, my prognostication proved to be correct, and one week later I found myself in the aforementioned meeting. A week ago, shortly after admitting the patient to my service, I had called a Palliative Care consult. Palliative Care/ Hospice Care is a specialty that focuses on allowing a patient to "die well," as odd as that may sound. The dying process is a particularly anguishing time for families, and of course patients. The field of Palliative Care aims to make the dying process as dignified and painless as possible for patients, while including family members as vital elements of the whole process. My colleague and friend, who was the consultant on the Palliative Care service (the doctor in the title) quickly understood that one of the main issues that was tormenting the patient was the inability to meet her daughter who was not in the country. It almost seemed that the patient was not letting go, was fighting death, till she could find a way to see her daughter. My colleague made addressing this issue a priority and in the end gave her own i-phone to the patient's family at the bedside so that they could have a Skype video conference with family members outside the country. The patient was finally able to see and speak to her daughter, thousands of miles away.

Several hours after this meeting, the patient died, peacefully, painlessly, family members by her side. She had seen or spoken to all her near and dear ones, and finally seemed ready to let go of her suffering. I hugged my colleague: due to her efforts, imagination and thoughtfulness, she had provided a sense of closure to the patient. More than anything else we were able to do for the patient at her end, nothing was probably as therapeutic as what my colleague was able to do for her. It was palliative care in its very essence. The death of any patient is difficult for a physician, but here, we were able to address her needs till the very end.

And my next phone? a smartphone, of course.

If you see something, say something

2011-08-07T22:49:00.024-04:00

The tall, attractive woman sitting opposite me on the No. 5 train as I made my way back home from work squirmed and gave me a withering look. I didn't exactly blame her: for the last few minutes it would seem that I had been shamelessly ogling her long, slender, well-toned legs that ended in well-manicured feet that rested in black, open, high-heeled shoes. But I was not looking at those magnificent, sexy limbs. Instead, my attention was concentrated on something far more mundane: a medium-sized paper bag underneath her seat

"If you see something, say something"
That is one of the mantras that is drilled into commuters who use public transport in New York City, in the aftermath of the 911 World Trade Center terrorist attack. Since New York City is a high potential target for another terrorist attack, the city seeks the public's cooperation in reporting unattended packages/ baggage or other suspicious appearing material, especially on public transport services - these may be very well bombs/ explosive devices. The subway system is considered especially sensitive.

At that moment - when I should have been enjoying more relaxing stuff - that phrase rang in my brain with increasing intensity, repeating itself in a crescendo that made my head hurt. I am a somewhat paranoid traveler and the Norway terrorist attack had occurred just a few days ago. The subway bombings in Madrid and London - now relatively remote events - were still fresh in my memory, virtue of the fact that I take the subway everyday and the periodic increases in security triggered in the subway system when the terror alert goes up. I also am a generally shy person who does not relish standing out or speaking up in a crowd of strangers. And clearly, the chances of there being a bomb in that package were negligible. As I saw it, I had four options:

1. Keep sitting where I was, hope for the best and get off at my stop.

2. Get off the train and take the next coming train.

3. Get out of the car I was in and move into another one.

4. Check the package for its contents.

1, 2 and 3 were just not good enough. If this were an explosive device and I followed 1, it would blow up right in my face. In addition, taking option 2 or 3 would still leave other commuters exposed. How would I feel if this turned out to be a true threat that I had walked away from, knowing that I could have potentially saved many lives? It would have been sheer cowardice. Morally too, 1, 2 and 3 seemed reprehensible. I was in a moral and ethical quagmire. There was only one thing to do.

"Excuse me Miss," I ventured, speaking to the woman. She looked at me with a look that could literally kill. Her eyes seemed to be shooting daggers at me, at the same time saying, "Take that, you lecher!". I had now engaged in a social transaction - i.e. a conversation with a stranger, that too of the opposite sex - and backing out now would only make the situation more awkward. I gulped and plunged ahead.

"Is that your bag," I said, pointing to the bag underneath her seat. She shot a glance underneath her seat and looked at me, vigorously shaking her hear head, clearly very annoyed. She must be thinking, " Is that your line dude? How pathetic!" Now I did something very foolish that could have potentially caused far more pain than an explosion itself. I leaned forward in my seat, reached forward and extended my left upper extremity between her calves, underneath her seat, to grasp the package. For a moment, I felt as if there was a collective gasp by all the other occupants in the car. The air felt chilly. I expected, at any moment to hear the resounding *thwack* of hand against cheek (her hand, my cheek, aka slap). No such thing happened. I grabbed the bag and dared to glance at the woman. Her face was red and I thought I saw some fumes around her ears.

I opened the bag and peered inside. Harmless, kaput. Just a few other paper bags rolled in. I sighed in relief. I looked up at the woman. Her face had hardened into a cruel, disdainful stare. She arched her right eyebrow and asked: "Garbage"? I wasn't sure if she meant the bag or me.

"No, nothing really," I stammered.

"However, in this day and age, you never know, do you," I said.

When I uttered those words, something magical happened, in an instant. The woman's body relaxed, her face softened and she almost gave me a smile. She suddenly seemed, somehow, grateful. I guess, being a NYC subway commuter, she finally understood my intentions. That realization hit her with a powerful force. It was a 360 degree transformation.

I smiled back at her momentarily, leaned back in my seat, closed my eyes, and continued smiling inwardly to myself.

Superdoc saves the day again (I didn't even have to change into my superhero tights and cape. It is such a pain, I tell you yaar, almost makes me not want to do the job). Another disaster averted.

Another day in New York City. Another subway ride.

11 simple tips to make travel easy

2011-07-31T17:49:00.007-04:00

These 11 simple yet sential tips will make your trip much easier. Some are so obvious and mundane that it is easy to overlook these small details in the complex process of planning your trip. Ignore at your own peril.

1. Carry a roll toilet paper in your backpack or handbag. All-the-time!

2. Have a alcohol-based hand sanitizer (Purell etc) on you. It especially helps when 1. is put into you use in alien surroundings, but is in general indispensable.

3. Travel light. (Or use Preety's tactic: make the spouse lug around the heavy stuff and pretend to be a savvy traveler with the light bag).

4. Scan passports, visas, other important immigration or personal documents and e-mail them to yourself. When you lose stuff in travel - it's not a question of if you will, but when - you can easily access these documents.

5. Carry a small flash light, one with a clip that you can attach to your pant or shorts (if left in pocket, make sure you turn off the flashlight. A glowing light in a guy's pocket can make for embarrassing, awkward situations).

6. Make your own little first aid kit (a few antibiotics, gauze, alcohol swabs, medications for diarrhea and vomiting, lots of band-aid). Keep one or two strips of band-aid in your wallet.

7. In a secure place, write down the contact numbers for your credit cards in case of loss or theft. Also e-mail to yourself.

8. Everyone should have a small camera tripod, otherwise you will be left out of your frames most of the time or will only be taking pictures of each other. The quality of your pictures will go up tremendously no matter what type of camera you have, and you will get great night shots. I highly recommend the ultra-compact Gorillapod from Joby (wrap around poles, fences, place on uneven surfaces). It's such a cool device that random people will come up and want to talk to you. Singles have claimed that they have been able to strike up dates in foreign lands.

9. Frequent hydration. People forget this and spend long hours walking or in activities without taking adequate fluids. By the time you are fatigued and your muscles are aching, replenishing your fluids may be too late to bring back that zip in your step.

10. Have a waterproof cover/ protection for your backpack/ camera bag/ handbag. Traveling in Peru, we came across a distraught British woman whose camera and expensive lenses had been damaged because her bag got wet in the rain. You can easily get a rainproof cover in stores selling outdoor adventure equipment (e.g. REI, Eastern Mountain Sports).

11. Carry toilet paper!

Bon voyage!

Quick stops: Athens & Mykonos, Greece

2011-07-25T07:00:00.001-04:00

The shining glory of the Acropolis comlex - Parthenon

For complete picture set click here

On our recent trip to Turkey and Greece, we blitzed through two places that I wish I had a little more time to explore: the capital Athens and the Cyclades island of Mykonos.

the Roman Agora or market, ancient Greece's most prominent market. An inscription on the gate of the market says that it was commissioned based on funds provided by Julius Ceasar in the 1st century BC

Athens is a behemoth of a city, an urban sprawl choked by traffic congestion and pollution. Yet, as you make your way through the city, you start to appreciate the fact that you are walking through one of the bedrocks of our civilization. From every vantage point the most distinctive element is the citadel of Acropolis whose shining glory is the magnificent Parthenon temple (though there are several other beautiful structures). Walking around the Acropolis complex, you get goose bumps when you contemplate that you might be sitting in a corner where Plato or Socrates once sat and discoursed their philosophy. Athens, like many other historic European cities, has that lovely ambiance of an open air museum. Turn a corner and you may be floored by what lies in front of you: ruins of a temple, monastery or church, an expressive sculpture, a gorgeous fountain or gargoyle, often dating from the BC era.

the Acropolis lit up at night and seen from a rooftop hotel bar in the neighborhood of Plaka

In the evenings and late into the night, the numerous tavernas and cafes that line ancient cobbled streets that weave around maze-like neighborhoods are packed with people. The food is delicious and the conversation and wine flows effortlessly. Musicians walk from taverna to taverna, sweetening the warm nights with their haunting ballads and music. And like most European cities, Athens also possesses unmatched romantic pedigree: find a corner to yourself in a beautiful street or plaza, and enjoy a hot summer night with your significant other while savoring a local bottle of wine, while close by a singer croons a beautiful tune as if entirely for your benefit.

one of the famous windmills of Mykonos looking down onto the harbor of Mykonos town

Mykonos is not as beautiful as Santorini (about which I wrote earlier), but its fame rests on its hedonistic and relentless nightlife. It's a playground for party-goers from all over the world who converge on the island for its famed beach-side super clubs where frenetic parties are literally never ending. The most well known landmark of Mykonos are its famous windmills. And like most Cycladic islands, the seafood is mouthwatering.

a dramatic Mykonos sunset about to reach its conclusion

Though I left these two places somewhat unfulfilled because of limited time, there are really no regrets. Having traveled enough, I know that one of the most self-defeating goals of travel can be to try and pack in as much as possible. Yes, one must make time for a few "must sees", but one must also allow time for serendipity and random discovery. And if I could not spend more time walking around Athens or dancing through one of Mykonos's wicked parties, I was lucky to see the Acropolis at the former and the windmills at the latter. The other voids I can try and fill up with my imagination. That can be equally enjoyable.

One year of not watching TV- part 2

2011-07-20T17:55:00.002-04:00

Now that I have got the things did not happen out of the way, let's see what transpired as I pursued my quest to not watch television for one year:

1. Let this be said right away: I watched more movies than I usually do, mostly on Netflix, but in the cinemas too. Some readers may feel betrayed by this admission and others will say, " I knew it was too good to be true." - isn't watching movies simply an extension of the same medium after all? The simple fact is that I did not watch TV because I do not find anything on it worthwhile, not because I have a point to prove or it makes me a better person somehow. I wanted to test if I could avoid such a pervasive and matter-of-fact aspect of our culture and lives. I really like movies -from all over the world - and so I watch them. Netflix allowed me to do just that (I spoke about Netflix's seduction of me in an earlier blog: My Best Friend RED). These were some of my favorites: Dabang (India), The Last of the Mohicans (USA), Udaan (India), Revanche (German), En La Cama (Chile), Let the Right One In (Swedish), The Maid (La Nana) (Chile), The Devil's Backbone (Spain).
And then just a couple of nights ago I saw Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara (India).
Would love to hear suggestions from you about your favorite movies...

2. I had plenty of time to read. I used to be a somewhat ravenous reader when I was younger, but with time and the responsibilities of adulthood, I found that time dwindling. This was may favorite read last year (and one of my favorite ever): The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet by David Mitchell. The fact that it is set in Japan (my favorite country in my travels to date) and the protagonist's move from his homeland of Holland to Japan to seek his destiny (identifying with my wanderlust and vagabond nature) surely had something to do with my love of this book, but it is also a magnificent, grand story remarkable in its vision and beautifully written.

3. I further worked on my hobbies of photography and writing/ blogging. Read several blogs.

4. I would like to say that Preety and I spent more time together, but this is difficult to exactly tease out. We probably did end up having more quality time together instead of passively spending time in front of the idiot box. Perhaps more conversations, a movie, going out for dinner or dancing, checking out a museum or festival. Enjoying the vibrant stage that is New York City. Or meeting friends. Maybe just going out for a walk to enjoy the simple pleasures of life.

5. Then there was whole lot of 'dead' time, time I had to myself where I did not know what to do. I got bored, slept it off, day-dreamed a lot, ruminated and introspected, or just tried to shut down my brain and do nothing (if that is possible at all). Nothing wrong with that I guess: in a world where we are surrounded by gadgets from the moment we wake up, to spending large amounts of time at work in front of a computer, and then evenings with more of TV, the internet and smart-phones, and finally spending a good chunk of our alloted 24 hrs a day sleeping, I wonder how much time we spend with our own selves?

It was a nice little experiment. Will I be watching TV in the future? Most likely, but in very small amounts (usually for an important sports event or travel-related documentaries). I find having absolute views about almost anything in life is generally not a healthy approach.

One year of not watching TV - part I

2011-07-11T06:22:00.001-04:00

Not that I watched too much of television anyway. Over the last few years however, I grew increasingly disenchanted by what was being shown. Could I stop watching TV altogether, I wondered? I put myself to the test one year ago, and did I manage it. (Confession: I watched India's cricket world victories over nemesis Australia, arch-rivals Pakistan, and finals win over perennial contenders Sri-Lanka. Surely no one will begrudge me this).

There were several consequences to this action. These were the things that did NOT happen:

1. I did not somehow feel isolated or cutoff from popular or mainstream culture.

2. In my conversations with friends or colleagues, I did not find that I was the odd one out because I had not watched the latest episode of a hot show or did not know what happened in the game the night before.

3. Was never really bored.

4. Did not feel as if there were a lack of options to fill my time or occupy myself with.

5. Never did walk around like a zombie.

6. Neither did I ever wake up at night with intense withdrawal symptoms or a fierce desire to turn on the tube.

7. On a net basis, actually ended up spending a little less time in the evenings with Preety since she still watches her shows. But we made up in other ways.

The things that happened then, in NEXT weeks blog.

Be a buddy to an orphan infected with HIV

2011-06-30T09:59:00.000-04:00

In a previous entry, I wrote about this shelter in Chennai that takes care of orphaned children who are infected with HIV ( age range from 4-5 yrs to 16 yrs). It's a double hit - to be an orphan and then to be infected by this disease for no fault of theirs - yet these children are bright, lovely, are well cared for and fight the odds every single day. As I said before, a group of us got together to help the orphanage pay for a minvan so that the children could go to school and clinic visits in a more comfortable manner.

Now I am asking you to befriend one or more of these children and be a 'buddy'. Why? Why not I ask? All those pleasures and facts of life that we and our children take for granted - a good education, robust health, time with family and friends, vacations - are a constant struggle for these children. Yet, as I said, they fight the odds daily. Perhaps you and I can add another element or layer of pleasure to their lives. Write or speak to them once in a while. Let them know about who you are, your family, where you live. Expose them to your universe and show them how big and wide and fascinating the world is. Send them a gift or two on holidays. Perhaps you could sponsor dance or painting classes or whatever the child is passionate about. Send the kids on a field trip to a museum, to the movies or a cricket match, or to a restaurant.

If you have children, let them get involved. I guess it's never early enough to let them know how privileged they are, that there is a lot of suffering in the world, and that they can recognize it and should do something about it. You could sponsor a child for higher education or a vocational-skills course. All I ask is that if you mentor a child, please stick to it indefinitely and let it not be casual gesture : they have faced enough dejection and adversity at such a tender age, far greater than most of us will experience in a lifetime

Hopefully we may make their lives a little brighter, make them smile just a little bit more, and add some more warmth and happiness to their lives. I have a sneaking suspicion however, that in the end, you and I will benefit far more from this alliance than the children themselves. If you have any doubt about whether your efforts and money are going in the right place, all I can say is that I will be intimately involved with the orphanage and visit it periodically - either personally or through friends based in Chennai.

I have a full profile of all of the children that includes their background, interests, medical condition and other small tidbits that I can forward to you if express a since interest. For reasons of privacy, I am not posting this on the blog.

Open your hearts, be a buddy.

Paradise on earth: Santorini, Greece

2011-06-19T19:48:00.002-04:00

For complete picture set click here

As your ferry enters the caldera (volcanic crater) of the submerged, yet active volcano in the calm blue waters of the Aegean sea, you are presented with one of the most memorable views on earth: to your left is a semicircular lip of volcanic rock - colored black, brown and rust - rising as much as 1300 feet at some points, on which are perched the famous white-colored villages of Santorini island.

Later, as you arrive at your clifftop hotel in the villages Imerovigli, Fira or Oia, your breath will be taken away by the panorama at your disposal: a sweeping 180 - degree view of the the entire caldera with its volcanic rim, cruise ships and yachts placidly gliding across the beautiful blue waters, bare islands of harsh, black volcanic rock incongruously jutting out of the sea, and a wide arcing horizon where the Aegean sea merges, at times almost seamlessly, with the clear blue sky. It is such a mesmerizing, soothing and wondrous site that I pinched myself several times to convince myself that I was not in a dream. I could have spent entire days just sitting by the hotel pool or my room balcony, reading a book or in a dreamy haze, marveling at this beauty. Santorini island saves its best for sunset, and on a cloudless day you will be rewarded with one of the loveliest sunsets that you will ever see.

Santorini island is not your typical tropical, lush green Caribbean island with abundant vegetation and palm-fringed beaches draped with powder-like sand. Instead, it has tenacious, scrappy vegetation that seems to be constantly in tension with the rocky landscape. Yet as you drive around the island, you start appreciating a certain kind of beauty to the landscape. And at almost every turn of the road there is another stunning vista, or the same view now seen from an entirely different angle. Strewn all over the island are historic ruins and monasteries. Even the beaches are unique: there is a Red Beach with red-colored sand and the famous black beaches made up of gravely, black volcanic sand. Even the water is different: because of the high mineral content it is easy to float in the water with minimal effort. When hunger strikes, stop at small roadside tavernas or villages and have sumptuous, fresh grilled fish. Wash it down later by making a pit-stop at one of the wineries for a tasting of the famous Santorini whites.

The main draws however, are the clifftop villages - especially Oia, the most photographed village in the Cyclades, and indeed Greece - with their dramatic perch and mind-blowing views. The whitewashed villages, made of up of cubical dwellings, often with domed or vaulted ceilings, present a dramatic contrast to the other principal elements: the volcanic rock, sky, and sea. The villages cascade down the sheer cliff and it's an exhilarating, heart pumping descent and climb. If you are able to escape the crowds, especially during sunset, it is hard to imagine a more romantic setting - no wonder this is such a popular destination for weddings and honeymooners. We were lucky to stay at one the most beautiful hotels we have ever been to (http://www.astrasuites.com), that immeasurably enhanced our trip. However there are many great hotels in the world, but few have George.

Ah yes, about George, the manager of Astra Suites, who has lovingly nurtured the Astra Suites since it was opened almost 2 decades ago. When we first met George, we felt we were meeting a long-lost friend. This tall, lean and muscular, somewhat balding, middle-aged Greek man greeted us with genuine warmth and pleasure. As he gave us a tour of the property, there was obvious pride and delight in his voice. It was clear that he loved everyday and every moment of his job. When George smiled, his mouth would broaden into a wide grin, his eyes narrowing and corners of his eyes crinkling up - you knew then that nothing could go wrong because George would always be there to make things right. George is what elevates the Astra Suites to a truly extraordinary hotel.

Yes, Santorini can be overwhelming during the high season (late June to August) and prices during this time can be exorbitant, but you can avoid these pitfalls to some extent by traveling during the shoulder or off seasons. As you watch another dramatic sunset, the lighted villages on the cliffs appearing like glittering emeralds on a necklace, the Aegean a shimmering yellow in the light of dusk, a cool breeze heightening your senses, inspiration will suddenly strike, and you will know how it must have felt to be a Greek God.

A rainy morning and intense nostalgia

2011-06-12T06:59:00.002-04:00

It was a Saturday summer early morning - my favorite time of the day - as I took a cup of coffee and the New York Times and walked out into the lush green grounds of my apartment complex. It had rained overnight, and the morning was overcast, damp and with a hint of a drizzle. Everything had been scrubbed clean by the rain - the greens were a vibrant greener, the flowers seemed more colorul - there was a cool breeze, and the aroma of the damp earth was intoxicating. This, more then anything else, the smell of damp earth, overwhelmed me with nostalgic memories of my favorite season growing up in India - the monsoon season.

When it rained back in India, the nation rejoiced. It was dramatic relief from the sweltering, stifling heat. We would run out to play and get drenched in the torrential downpour, go for long walks, or take our bicycles or motorcycles out for drives. After coming back home soaked and cold, it was time for a hot cup of tea. Or pakoras or samosas with mint chutney. Everyone was happy - the rains had this effect on the national psyche. And now, this morning, I felt I was back in India. My apartment complex, a massive enclave of about 10,000 apartments, is an anomaly in Manhattan: tucked between 1st avenue the East River, it is a verdant oasis of thousands of trees, abundant lawns and playgrounds, and flowering shrubs. Walking in this beautiful complex, you can easily forget that just a few minutes away begins the non-stop frenzy of Manhattan.

At 7 am this morning, I felt I had the entire place to myself. There were just a few people around: people walking their dogs, an early morning jogger, elderly couples out for a walk. One elderly couple sat on a bench, the woman stroking his hair, he smoking a cigar (I kid you not) and scrolling through his blackberry, both of them with serene and contended expressions. Another solitary woman sitting on a bench was immersed in the newspaper, a steaming cup of Starbucks coffee in one hand. Squirrels - ubiquitous in our complex - darted around playfully, came up to me expecting nuts, dangled upside down in small trees trying to reach berries. There was a constant chirping of birds. I sat on a bench, opened my favorite section of the paper - Travel - and read about the artistic, indie movement blossoming in Singapore. There was a gust of wind and I was spattered with a few heavy drops of water shaken off from tree branches. My paper got a little wet.

I got up and made a few rounds of the property. The air was fresh and smelled so sweet and I could 'feel' the river nearby. It was a simple, yet delicious, exhilarating sensation. I walked back into my apartment, a glow in my heart and a smile on my face. I knew this moment would not linger too long, would fade away eventually, but for as long as possible, I wanted to clutch on to this morning's memory and savor it.

the startling, unearthly beauty of Cappadocia, Turkey

2011-06-08T22:09:00.001-04:00

For complete picture set click here

As you start traveling around the region of Cappadocia in central Anatolia, Turkey, you may have the sensation of being on an unworldy landscape. Lunar is what most people compare it to, but you can let your imagination take free flight here.

After volcanic eruptions thousands of years ago - depositing a porous mix of ash, mud and lava - the great sculptor went to work. Those two patient yet relentless forces of wind and water carved these deposits into surreal shapes: pyramids, spires, pillars, cones, chimneys. What the elements perfected, mankind utilized. Realizing that the soft, porous rock could easily be excavated, Hittites as early as 4000 years ago began utilizing the rock formations as dwellings.Later, Byzantines and early Christians occupied these very dwellings for several reasons: as shelter; places of worship - walk into one of these cones and you may be startled to see beautiful frescoes and panels; and later as hiding places against invaders - there are large enough 'cities', both above the ground and subterranean, a veritable honeycomb of human dwellings in which as many as 20,000 people could live.

Today you can hike in valleys and come across one fantastic rock formation after another; walk into these dwellings and cities and see how these ancients lived; take a balloon ride and get a true sense of the beauty and breadth of this land; or stay in several boutique 'cave hotels' that have been converted from some of these original dwellings. The hotel we stayed in - the lovely Esbelli Evi - had original ceilings, part of the walls and a chimney from the 5th century AD.

They are many other activities that can keep you pleasantly occupied in this region. There are beautiful drives through valleys dotted with weird rock formations; in the Ilhara valley, the scenery turns greener and you drive through a gorge next to a river, with monasteries carved into the overhanging cliffs. During spring, the ground is generously sprinkled, and in some cases carpeted with colorful blooms of wild flowers - yellow, orange, purple, red, mauve - providing a nice contrast to the rocks and earth. You can drive through small, sleepy villages where the rhythms of life still beat to an ancient tune, unaffected by the anxiety of the modern world: women transport crops or hay in small donkey driven carts, on a warm afternoon a couple of children play soccer in a desolate square, while on the bench under the shade of the tree in the corner, an elderly gentleman takes a siesta. There are several beautiful hikes throughout the region that can keep you happily occupied for days.

In the end, however, the memory that you will take back from you stay here is the remarkable rock formations. It's a vision that will be imprinted on your brain forever and will tug at you to return to confirm that your memory is as real as the landscape

enchanting, exotic Istanbul

2011-05-30T20:29:00.001-04:00

Blue Mosque at dusk

For complete picture set, click here

Istanbul is a magical city that will quickly weave its spell on you shortly after you arrive. A bustling metropolis of 13 million people, this is a storied land: once called Byzantium and Constantinople, it was the seat of power of the Byzantine, Roman and Ottoman empires, and one of the most prominent cities in the world over several centuries.
Walk its history-soaked, labyrinthine maze of ancient, crooked streets. Wander and haggle through ancient grand bazaars and spice markets, picking up a magnificent Turkish rug or an Iznik tile. Gaze at the magnificent Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sofiya museum, marvels of architecture. Or just sit down on the steps of one the hundreds of beautiful mosques and observe the daily rhythms of life - in this predominantly Muslim yet secular country, the mosques are as much a focal point of social life as they are places of worship.

A store in the Grand Bazaar selling Turkish lamps

When your feet get tired, engage in one of the most cherished local traditions: sit down in a tea garden, have the national drink, tea (as our guide book said, with a cube of sugar, and Allah forbid, no milk or lemon) and perhaps order a hookah. You will be surrounded by university students in passionate debate or just chilling, couples out on a date, or elderly Istanbullu's feverishly discussing local politics or in silent contemplation at the end of the day. If the heat and crowds get to you, take a cruise on the Bosphorous, watching the skyline of the old city - Sultanahment - fade in the distance as the wind whips across your face and makes a mess of your hair. This is how Constantinople must have appeared to arriving seafarers: a skyline capped with domes and punctuated with minarets. As you cruise the Bosphorus strait, you realize with a giddy feeling that you are in the only city in the world that lies on two continents, and that you are straddling that very divide - on the east is Anatolia and to the west, Europe.

Delicious baclava at Hafiz Mustafa, in operation since 1864

At every turn and corner is delicious and inexpensive street food, a religion in itself: kebabs, kofte with pickled green peppers, meze (turkish small dishes, somewhat like tapas), seafood, fresh fruits, corn on the cob, roasted chestnuts, different kinds of sweets (baclava!), and so much more. Dutifully, everyday we returned (on some days more than once) to the packed-with-locals Tarihi Sultanahmet Koftecisi for their mouthwatering, juicy kofte, served with large buns of bread, pickled green peppers and red pepper paste, washed down with ayran - a local drink made of yogurt (somewhat like lassi). The place is packed with locals, surprising for a place that really serves two major dishes; only kofte and lamb kebabs. Right after that, we would walk across next door and sample the delicious varieties baclava at Hafiz Mustafa - in operation since 1864 - each bite melting in our mouths like nectar from the Gods.Finally, to shake off the slumber induced by this one-two hit, we would go to our favorite tea garden that happened to be located at the far end of a cemetery! We had to pass several tombstones before we reached the atmospheric tea garden packed with students from nearby Istanbul University.

Skyline of Istanbul, capped by domes and punctuated by minarets

In the end, however, perhaps the best way to absorb the essence of Istanbul is to just walk its streets at random, get lost, and discover your own little piece of magic. Later, in the evening, as you sit on your hotel rooftop bar on a warm spring evening, sipping your drink and contemplating the beautifully lit Blue Mosque in the distance, the muezzin's soulful call for prayer rings in unison from a thousand minarets, filling up the void of the nighttime sky. At this point you may be forgiven for believing that any moment your own magic flying carpet will appear, on which you are now gliding across the Bosphorous, a million lights twinkling in the distance on either shore, and you are ready to live and love, all over again.

The mystical dance of the Sufi Dervishes

On the road: to Shop like an Istanbullu...

2011-05-21T16:39:00.000-04:00

Istanbul is a delightful city to stroll in. More about its numerous virtues later: for now, what strikes me is the enterprising nature of its merchants and shopkeepers. The art of selling and trading flows in their veins as a birthright, not surprising given the seminal role Istanbul has played over centuries as one of the centers of the universe and a pivotal stop on the Silk Route.They use every trick in the book to entice you to buy, and I have rarely encountered this heady mix of aggression, friendliness, strategy, wit and hospitality. The encounters with these master salesmen became a highlight of the trip, and there have been several memorable encounters and lines. Here are some:

" I am only looking," I said as a first line of defense to every overbearing seller. That was easy for them: "No problem brother, I am only selling," pat came the reply.

We would be beseiged by an emotional, pleading shopkeepers: " Oh my friends! Come! Sit in my shop, have some tea! You don't have to buy. No problem. Just sit and look!" His face suggested that his honor would forever be tarnished if we refused this fantastic offer.

"Spend some money, make me happy," was a favorite one-liner.

Bewildered and dazed by the madness of the Grand Bazaar, I was startled to hear a whisper in my ear. I looked around, and saw an amiable young Turk smiling at me. "Huh?" I uttered. "You look tired my friend." He was right, I was. "Then come and sit in my cafe, have a drink," he said. When I said later, he extracted a solemn promise from me that I would drink at his establishment only, and at no one elses in the whole Grand Bazaar.

"Spend some money for your honey," shouted one, seeing me with Preety. When I gave the lame excuse that I already had, he was ready: "Ah! I am late. Next time then my brother, but don't forget me."

"You India?" When we nodded, they would break out into some Raj Kapoor tune. "Awara Hoon," "Mere Joota Hai Japani." "Namaste," said others, and "Bahut Sundar" to Preety.

Seeing Preety cornered by one particularly persistent and pesky shopkeeper in the Spice Market, I quietly made my escape. Preety told me he began showing her all kinds of different teas: apple, pomegranate, sage, herbal. He then came to the "love tea," proudly proclaiming that a few sips would make her boyfriend (that would be me) love her forever. Using this is an escape strategy, Preety - saying thank you, but that it would not be needed, we were already married for several year - left.

And this was the best. The couple walking ahead of me in the Spice Market was greeted effusively by a young man, in front of a store selling colorful spices. "My friends, the finest saffron from Iran," he gushed excitedly. As the woman ambled ahead and out of ear shot, he slided next to the man and conpiratorially whispered: "And the best poison for your mother-in-law."

Ann, the JetBlue airline agent

2011-05-13T16:57:00.001-04:00

"How are you doing honey?" I asked. Preety sounded unsure: "Not too good. I miscalculated the time and am still stuck in traffic in Manhattan." Preety was running late for her evening JetBlue airline flight from JFK airport, Queens, to San Francisco, California, where she was going for an important two-day electrophysiology conference. It did not seem that she would make it on time to the airport. With nothing to lose - and not really expecting much given the sad state of the aviation industry these days - I thought I would try JetBlue customer service.

"Hello, this is Ann from JetBlue. How can I help you?" said a crisp and friendly voice. I explained my situation and asked if Preety could be accommodated on later flights. Over the next 35-40 minutes - as I went back and forth with Preety on another line - I was startled and pleasantly surprised to get the best customer service I have ever received. This is what Ann did:

1. Promptly informed me, that for a small fee of $ 40, she would be able to book a later flight from JFK to either Oakland or San Jose, since both were 'pair-cities', and thus qualified for this service.

2. When I wondered aloud whether Preety's existing flight was delayed beyond the 15 minutes mentioned on the website - thus giving Preety a whiff of a chance to make that flight - Ann called JFK directly to find the flight status and informed me that the doors to the plane had been closed and that there was no way they would let her board the plane.

3. Waited patiently over the phone as I went back-and-forth with Preety, debating which later flight she should take. Ann suggested that we take the Oakland flight since it was at 7 pm and would allow sufficient time for Preety to reach the airport; in addition it was closer to downtown San Francisco than San Jose. So that is what we did.

4. She promptly booked the Oakland flight, and sent Preety a confirmation e-mail.

5. She suggested a aisle seat for the busy Oakland flight. Upon being unable to obtain that seat, she called her supervisor to see if she could override this block. When she could not, she offered Preety the next best seat.

6. Throughout all of this, sounded reassuring, sprinkled in some humor, and considerably eased my stress.

When all was done, I felt overwhelmed by Ann's nicety. I mentioned to her that this was the best customer service I had ever received in my life; I was lucky I had 'found' her as it was more likely I would have come across someone either not as helpful or totally indifferent to our plight. I thanked her profusely. Ann's voice seemed to swell a little with emotion, and she said, "I love you guys, helping you all, this is what makes the job worthwhile. Always treat others the way you would like to be treated, that's what I say."

"Treat others the way you would like to be treated?!"
How often does the obvious truth come crashing down on you a like a million bricks? I mean, it's pretty obvious that this is how we need to be in our dealing with others. But how often do we put this in practice (or for that matter so many other apparent truths)? Knowing is one thing, but doing it is an entirely different matter. I walk around in this state of amnesia all the time. And here was Ann, a humble JetBlue customer representative, who was the very embodiment of this homily. That evening, Ann did much more than solve a little predicament of mine.

Before I turned off the computer, I made sure that I went to the JetBlue website and wrote them an e-mail describing Ann's sterling customer service and how proud they should be to have such an amazing asset.

New York: Madison Square Park (& Sikh Parade)

2011-05-06T19:31:00.001-04:00

Madison Square Park, New York City

For complete picture set, click here

Madison Square Park - located between 5th and Madison Avenues, and 23rd and 26th streets - is a true jewel amongst New York City's many parks. Though relatively small, it offers a variety of delightful experiences, and it would be a shame if tourists do not spend at least an hour or two in the park - this is a park used as much by locals as by tourists and it's a great way to get a flavor of how New Yorker's live and chill out.

Reflected in the little pond in the park, some of New York's iconic buildings (from upper-right corner, counterclockwise): the Flatiron Building, one of NYs most famous landmarks; the pencil thin, 50-story, all-glass facade, hyper-modern residential One Madison Square; and the Metlife Tower.

Relax on a bench and indulge in the New Yorker's favorite pastime: people watching; prostate yourself in the lush green lawns and soak up the sun or doze under the shade of a tree; enjoy a burger at the now legendary Shake Shack - located within the park- for my money the best burger in town (be ready for long lines); enjoy outstanding, evocative, eclectic public art on display in the park, created by both emerging and established artists, local as well as international; dance or tap your feet to an intimate, free concert; take in the lovingly manicured gardens and vivid flower blooms in spring; watch the dogs frolic in the dog park as their owners look on dotingly ; marvel at the superb architecture that rims the park, including the iconic Flatiron building - shaped like a iron and bisecting 5th avenue and Broadway - one of New York's most famous landmarks; come during June and enjoy the two-day barbecue festival when the best chefs from around the country set up shop in the Park; or just feel happy to be alive.

The hauntingly beautiful sculpture' Echo', by Spanish artist Jaume Plensa, in Madison Square Parktion

And just a few steps away from the park are world class shopping and dining options; of particular note is the recently opened 'Eataly' by Mario Batali, a shrine to the culinary delights of Italy. It has several restaurants inside (serving sea-food, meats, pizza, a veggie-bar, stand-up bar for cheeses, salami and prosciutto, a coffee bar and gelateria; a butchery and sea-food counter; and all kinds of Italian groceries, sweets and delicacies. It's mobbed from morning to night!).
Then walk along 5th or Park Avenue and enjoy the irresistible shopping options before you shortly find yourself at Union Square on 14th street, one of the most vibrant, happening and busiest squares in Manhattan.

Sikh Parade next to Madison Square Park, New York City

On this particular day, it also happened to be the Sikh Parade -the annual gathering of Sikhs- held around Baisakhi; the procession starts further uptown before ending next to the Park. Food ('langar') is served free to anyone who shows up and the park is usually mobbed by Indians. It's an occasion for families and the community to gather and celebrate Sikhism; there is little Sunny and Pinki, hopping around, excited to be in their first parade; young, strapping men in saffron turbans and Sikh-pride t-shirts keeping the procession area clean; several generations from the same family volunteering to serve food, bonding in the process; young women, who of course used the occasion as to make a fashion statement by dressing up in colorful salwar-kameez in the latest fashion; and then of course curious New Yorkers and Indiaphiles who showed up to celebrate the diversity that New York has to offer and savor the delicious food. I must mention that I was turned off by the Sikh Parade several years ago and had not returned since; at that time I was appalled by the litter that had been left lying on the streets and the park and felt ashamed at my community's lack of civic sense. To my relief, it appeared that the organizers had literally cleaned up their act, and there was a great effort to keep the neighborhood clean. I was pleased.

Proud to be Sikh

Madison Square Park is one of my favorite hangouts in the city, and many a warm summer night have we enjoyed here with family and friends at the Shake Shack, washing down the mouth-watering burgers with a glass of Shiraz or Heineken, marveling at our good fortune. No reason why you should not do the same.

the Chinese Woman Cab Driver

2011-05-01T00:28:00.001-04:00

" Your car is waiting for you sir," crackled the voice through the cellphone, in heavily accented Chinese. Nothing surprising - since most of the drivers of the car service I use for getting to my nightshifts at the hospital were immigrants - except for one fact: in the 3 years that I had been using this company, it was the first time I had seen a female driver.
As I approached the car, I saw a pleasant, bespectacled, well dressed, middle-aged Chinese woman walking around the car, hands tucked in her trouser pockets. When she saw me approaching, she hurried over to open the rear seat passenger door. I got in, a little embarrassed at having a woman open the car door for me. None of the male drivers had done this, ever.
She started driving, comfortably and assuredly, as one who had been navigating the mean streets of New York forever; there was no swerving, rapid changing of lanes, or honking; when she needed to cut into a busy lane before taking an exit, she executed a swift, no-nonsense maneuver, neatly inserting the limousine in between two cars. She drove with more poise and grace than many of the male drivers, for many of whom it seemed that the car was a direct extension of their machismo, or in some cases, even their libidos.

But most of all, she won me over by not getting over the phone and yakking away. Time and again - and the culprits have been my brethren from the subcontinent - I have dreaded the conversations my drivers have only seemed too eager to pursue over their Bluetooth device, as soon as I got in the car, as if it was a connection stronger than the umbilical cord. They have called wives, perhaps lovers or mistresses, friends, parents, uncles, aunts, often engaging in intimate conversations they knew I probably understood. Some try to keep their voice down, but others have guffawed like a donkey, cursed like a parrot, or just blabbered on. There is no sense of discretion or professionalism, completely ignoring the passenger ( I under-tip these drivers). Often I have had the impulse of leaning forward to slap the driver, or offering to drive the car so that they could lie in the back and have a more relaxed conversation! Our Chinese woman did not get on the phone, except once when the phone rang - it sounded like she was speaking to her daughter. She even apologized to me before answering the phone.

I remarked to her about the fact that she was the first woman driver I had had in several years of using the same car service; she laughed and said she had been doing this for six years. I was surprised - a taxi driver's job is one of the three most dangerous jobs in America, the other two being firefighter and police officer; moreover, my hospital is not exactly located in the safest neighborhood in Brooklyn; finally, I would assume a woman driver is more vulnerable as a target of a crime. I asked if she always worked nights and what time she got home, to which she said yes, it was always nights and she got home around 1 a.m. " Do you feel safe, as a woman driving a cab at this late hour? " I asked. Unfortunately, this is where our conversation broke down, as she indicated to me that her English was very limited.

I wondered - and wanted to ask but knew it would be futile - about so many things: What prompted a Chinese, immigrant woman, one who barely spoke any English (in a job where some communication skills are essential) to drive a cab, at such odd hours? Did she have a family? Children? If so how did she take care of the family with her work schedule? Was she the only bread-winner in the family? Did she have a second job in the day? Was she under some sort of economic hardship? Clearly what she was doing was not normative or very desirable - it probably involved significant compromises in her personal and family life, and could be stressful and a health hazard. Yet she had an air of dignity about her. I thought about how poor women in villages in India toll away under the yolk of severe poverty, assuming a disproportionate bulk of the household chores and responsibility of raising the children, yet striving to please their husbands and in-laws. Compared to them, I said to myself, our Chinese woman still had it good. But then I checked myself - who is to judge whose hardship is greater? In a male-centric world, more power to my driver if she was doing what she had to to take care of things. With a smile on her face.

As I got out of the car, I made sure that I tipped her more than I usually do and wished her to get home safe.

Life: The GOOGLE-ization of ME

2011-04-23T16:18:00.002-04:00

It happened surreptitiously, stealthily, over several years. The strategy was masterful, like a patient adversary plotting a masterful coup. The only problem with the preceding statement is: I am quite happy to be enmeshed in Google's web (no pun intended). Everything about Google is a joy: its offerings are simple, uncluttered, intuitive to use, and greatly improve my quality of life.

I still marvel - especially for a company valued at 200 billion dollars - at the minimalist, bare home page that Google has stayed faithful to. Perhaps all of us visit Google's search engine several times a day for all sorts of queries; we make a variety of decisions about our personal lives, health, entertainment, finances, travel, eating choices, based on what Google's search engine spits out. Now I use Google's blogger platform for 'Life Calling'; Picasa, now a part of the Google family, helps me link pictures seamlessly with my blog. For most of my medical literature queries, I have shifted, from Pubmed, to Google Scholar. Google Documents allows me to take care of my word documents or power-point presentations without ever resorting to Microsoft Office. I even own stocks of Google. And I can barely get from point A to point B without Google Maps assistance. Of all the e-mail services I have tried, nothing compares to the usability of Gmail. You see what I mean?

It's a little scary, no matter how reassuringly benign Google appears. After all, a monopoly is never good. I am thankful to sites such Facebook or Twitter or Skype for thwarting Google's ambitions in the domains of social networking or web-based phone services; if Google's efforts in these areas have not been so pervasive (think Orkut or Google Talk) or dominant, it's because they are not part of the DNA that defines Google. There are deeper philosophical questions to address: if Google crumbles, will my life too unravel? Will I be left scrambling to put the pieces of my life back together? Will I be able to 'connect' again? What will be left of my identity?

I wish I had some of these answers; perhaps I will go Google's search engine and plug in these questions. Or there may just be a video on YouTube about what a post-Google apocalypse may look like...

Travel: Cherry Blossom Festival, Washington D.C.

2011-04-14T17:52:00.002-04:00

Cherry Blossoms lining the Tidal Basin; the Washington Monument is seen behind

For complete picture set, click here

There are several worthwhile reasons to visit the nation's capital; perhaps the prettiest and most enchanting yet maybe the Cherry Blossom Festival, held for two weeks in early spring each year (usually at the end of March). It's the period when the cherry trees planted around the Tidal Basin and elsewhere in the city go into a riotous bloom, their pink-hued, white flowers offering a spectacular visual display. There is some lovely history behind the festival that adds extra depth to the experience: these trees were a gift from the mayor of Tokyo in 1912 to the city of Washington DC in an effort strengthen US-Japan ties; more trees arrived later, but a large number of the original trees survive. The festival also coincides with the cherished and traditional hanami (flower-viewing) season in Japan, when cherry blossoms (sakura) breakout into a vivid bloom.

As you walk around the Tidal Basin, the flowers from a dense white canopy that arches over the paved path around the basin and spill over onto and overhang the water's edge. You will rub shoulders and jostle with a throng of people, all ooohing! and aahhhing!, looking for the perfect spot to pose for pictures. You also get prime views of two of the city's most iconic monuments: the supreme obelisk of the Washington Monument and the magnificent rotunda of the Jefferson National Monument, the latter being directly on the southeast bank of the Tidal Basin. It's particularly enjoyable to try and find a view of either of these monument framed by the cherry blossoms. You will also come across a Japanese Pagoda and a 300-yr-old Japanese stone lantern that in the past was lighted to mark the inauguration of the festival.

The 300-yr-old Japanese stone lantern

There are many activities to enjoy in the festival, most of them free: these include art shows, musical recitals and dances, a kite festival, fireworks display, a parade, museum exhibits, and several family- and children-oriented activities. If you need a breather, settle down under a cherry blossom tree on the grassy banks of the Tidal Basin and enjoy a picnic or a nap, sit on the edge of the basin, your feet dangling over the water, and lean back to get a panoramic view, or sit on the stairs of the Jefferson National Monument and bask in the sun and do some people-watching.

People enjoying the festival

But in the end, as you depart, the singular memory that will stay with you is the lovely flowers, white as snow, and you may just find yourself murmuring, with a dreamy smile: 'sakura' 'sakura' 'sakura'...

'Life calling' turns ONE! - Part II

2011-04-05T10:30:00.004-04:00

These were some of my favorite pictures; some may not be technically very good, but they were chosen because the moment resonated with me. They all come with a short paragraph describing the moment:

Monks lining up for alms early in the morning in Luang Prabang, Laos

For complete picture set click here

These were the top ten blogs for the last year (click on any to read the article:

Travel: Puerrrrrrrrto Riiiiiicoh!!!

On the road, Travel: Scenic Drives around Las Vegas

Travel: Peru, my Favorite Moments...

Initiative: 8 1/2 Ways to keep Exercising

Life: Embracing a Different Point of view

Travel: Spanish Moss and the Beautiful City of Savannah, Georgia

Life: a Couple from Portland Teaches a Travel Lesson

Travel: Food Eaten on Roads Traveled

Initiative: My Lament on the Imminent Demise of Newspapers

Initiative: A Better India @ www.betterindia.com

Some blogs were written spontaneously and breezily, such as the Difference between a Traveler and a Tourist; others took longer, as they marinaded, simmered, tossed and turned, were garnished, leading to My Room with a View. Some writing was highly mood-dependent: overwhelmed at work by a number of very sick, dying patients, looking for a release, I wrote A Doctor, Death and the Promise of Life; in a more playful mood, I allowed my self to be seduced by My best friend RED; both could not have been written on the same day.

I made new friends, learnt so many new things (the improvement in pictures is a direct by-product), became more aware of my surroundings, the mundane or banal became noteworthy: every moment was an opportunity to blog, a medium for self-expression. I loved it all.

What is in store for the coming year? Lots of travel of course - aside from smaller trips, the next big one is Turkey and Greece in May, and after that, as they say, the rest is an open road; working to improve writing and blogging (taking a New York Times course for that this week), and of course, photography (switching to RAW format soon); and something close to my heart: 'Disha'

I have worked on social causes in India for so long and with so many people, and it took me that long to understand this: Why not do your own thing? Why work for anyone else? Mentorship is overrated; it's difficult to sustain your own vision if you are just collaborating, dabbling, from thousands of kilometers away. So 'Disha' is my own social endeavor: call it an NGO, non-profit, philanthropy or what-you-will. With a few friends in Chennai, we accomplished our first project of financing the down-payment for a mini-van for an orphanage of HIV-infected children. The children were growing up, and it was getting difficult to get the kids to school and other activities back-and-forth in rickshaws or three-wheelers.

Whereas 'Disha' means direction, to me the essence of 'Disha' is anything but that: my mind is open to any kind of project if it ignites my passion; by the same corollary, if anyone has a worthwhile suggestion, I am happy to look into it. 'Disha' is funded primarily by my own money, but if anyone wishes to chip in - say, support a HIV-infected child for further education, sponsor a museum trip or tickets to the theater for about 15 orphans, or pay for dancing lessons for this HIV-infected boy who can dance like Prabhudeva and Michael Jackson combined (and better than either of them) - you will have forever touched my heart and made a friend for life. In a couple of months, I will be putting up a web page for 'Disha'. If you have any questions, you know how to contact me.

I hope to keep my mind open, to not judge, make new friends and travel new lands, savor new experiences, and give back a little for all that I have been lucky to get. I would like it if some of you came along...

Initiative: 'Life Calling' turns ONE!

2011-03-30T09:21:00.000-04:00

It's been one year since I started blogging, and I enjoyed every single moment of it; it's as if I only started yesterday, and I guess one sign that you are really enjoying what you are doing is that it doesn't feel old at all.

I don't want to say much today, except THANK YOU to all the readers; none of this would be worth it or so exhilarating without you. Every single comment, critique, word of encouragement or appreciation has been an endorphin kick, and I have savored every response many times over.

And if every writer's vanity is to have as large a readership as possible, I am certainly not an exception. If you have been inspired or enjoyed the content of the blog , I would be grateful if you could spread the word to others who you think may enjoy 'Life Calling' and share its essence; there are many ways to do this, including word of mouth, tweeting about the blogs or suggesting people to 'befriend' me on Facebook.

Next week, a little more about the top 10 blog entries, upcoming plans for the year, and the announcement of 'DISHA'. Till then, once again a big, big, biggggggg.....

THANK YOU!!!

Life: a couple from Portland teaches a travel lesson

2011-03-22T18:20:00.002-04:00

Preety relaxing on the deck at Mary Lee's by the Sea

As is my habit, I woke up early in the morning, ambling on to the deck at Mary Lee's by the Sea - a small gem of a hotel facing the Caribbean sea in Guanica , Puerto Rico - to a beautiful sunrise view. Expecting to be alone at this hour, I was surprised to see company - a middle-aged woman sitting on one of the chairs. Ah, another kindred soul, I thought! I said hello and as we talked a little bit more, I learnt that she and her husband had spent the entire night sleeping in their car after they had arrived around midnight, only to find their designated room - named 'Ruthies' - dark and locked. They had flown in from Portland to San Juan, and then cut across the island, north to south, to the hotel; her son was getting married in Puerto Rico and family members and friends had rented several rooms at Mary Lee's for a week. My smile vanished, and I was suddenly gripped by panic.

Earlier that night around 10 pm, with irritation welling inside me like an angry bubo about to burst, I walked around the entire property looking for our room, 'Sirena II'. " We will leave keys and directions to your room in the office, and the lights of your room shall also be left on so that you can easily identify it," said the manager when I had booked the room. Well, the office had no keys or instructions, and despite spending half-an-hour combing the property and surrounding dwellings, 'Sirena II' was not to be located. The only room that was open, with lights on, was - you guessed it dear reader- 'Ruthies'; we peered inside; it seemed lovely and inviting, with everything done in pastel green shades, wicker furniture, ample space, appealingly designed and a large, comfortably appearing bed. We rationalized: who else would come at this ungodly hour? And maybe they changed our rooms and just forgot to inform us?

The elusive 'Sirena II'

That was enough convincing for us to usurp the room and soon we were in deep slumber on a warm Caribbean night. So, in the morning, when the woman told me that she had tried to open 'Ruthies' only to find it locked and thus causing her to retreat to her car for the rest of the night, I had every reason to be distressed. No point hiding the truth, I thought to myself, she will find out soon anyway, and so I confessed to her the events of the night. I expected anger, uproar, antagonism, a few unkind words. A demand to speak to the management immediately. A refund. Commotion! None of that happened. Instead she just smiled and said: " It's ok. It happens you know, it's not really your fault." Relieved, I told Preety about this conversation when she finally woke up. Preety at least had the sense to suggest that we could take the couple to the room that had been meant for us so that they could shower and get some rest. The woman from Portland even seemed grateful (imagine that?) for our recommendation, and introduced us to her husband, who seemed an even kinder version of her, if that is possible. By that time, one of the hotel workers had arrived and took us to the fabled 'Sirena II' - it was located about 200 feet away from the main property, and without explicit directions, there was no way we could have found it in the dark. I began to feel a little better. 'Couple from Portland' bid us farewell and retreated to their room.

'Ruthies'

On going back over this episode, I realized that they taught me something so important, amounting to the essence of travel: on the road, unexpected things can happen, and you can either roll with the situation and make the best of it, or instead be angry and miserable and ruin the trip. Here for the marriage of her son, she could have started on a grumpy and unpleasant note that could have lingered on and affected the imminent merriment; instead, she chose to accept that the situation was beyond her and looked at the positive - the beautiful property located by the ocean, lovely warm weather, an auspicious occasion ahead with joyful times with friends and family - and immediately put last nights incident behind her. Had she or her husband chosen to be combative, it would have put a sour taste in our trip as well.

Hats off to this lovely couple and I hope I can learn from their actions and be a better and wiser traveler. What would you have done in such a situation?

Magnificent Road Trips: Ruta Panoramica, Puerto Rico

2011-03-15T19:50:00.002-04:00

View Larger Map

For complete picture set, click here

Can a dark, dark night be ever so beautiful, I wondered? We were driving on the Rt 143, cutting through the Toro Negro Forest Reserve - part of the 'Ruta Panoramica', rumored to be one of the most beautiful drives in the Caribbean, but let me confirm that it must be - high up in the mountains on our way from Aibonito to Jayuya. The dense tropical vegetation, that during the day seemed to literally drape the narrow, twisting, winding, road around us in a luminous green tent, at night manged to achieve an altogether different level of intimacy: in the void of the darkness, it held us in a tight embrace giving us the sensation of gliding through a thicket of forest rather than driving on a road.

Except for two, yellow pointed beams of the car headlamps, it was pitch dark as the car climbed, descended, turned, braked and then accelerated on the sharply meandering mountain roads, there was a cool, fragrant breeze as a result of rain earlier in the day, Preety, in the passenger seat, exhausted from the day's excitement, was in peaceful repose, there was nary another vehicle on the road at this hour of night, and in the silence that engulfed the darkness beyond the low hum of the car engine, for a few moments at least, I felt I had the universe to myself. But was it really that quiet? The forest had somehow crept up to my window and whispered: "Listen Sandeep! We are putting up a show just for you." And as I concentrated, I became aware all sorts of sounds - a constant twittering of a million crickets, birds cooing and twittering, frogs croaking, the occasional bark or grunt, a shrill, urgent whistle, a hisssss, a groooowwl, the rustling of leaves, the swishing of tree branches - it was a magnificent symphony, on a galactical scale, being played entirely for my benefit, rising to a superb crescendo, and it was music sweeter than any I had heard before.

Earlier during the day as we had begun our climb in the 'El Cordillera Central' (the Central range), it had started to rain. With everything scrubbed clean by the rainfall and the aroma of the damp earth wafting into our nostrils, it was just the right way to begin. Higher up in the mountains, we drove in and out of pockets of clouds and swirling mist, the sun teased every now and then by breaking through the cloud cover, its yellow rays bouncing and reflecting off the wet vegetation and mist to create a dazzling yellow-golden light, and it felt like we were in the midst of some enchanting haze. At several peaks, the dense canopy of vegetation seemed to abruptly melt away, the mountains on either side plummeting in a cascade of smaller and smaller hills, leading to valleys dotted with small, picturesque towns, beyond which there was a sliver of golden, frothy coastline, and finally the beautiful, turquoise-blue waters of the Caribbean sea. Ah! Giant ferns leaned over into the road from each side as if conferencing with each other, and enormous bamboo trunks had fallen over the road at several points, creating thatched, crisscrossed ceilings. We paused at small restaurants situated at sharp bends along the mountain, from where, as we sipped a coffee or beer, inhaling the delicious, clean, cool mountain air, surveyed the stunning landscapes in front of us.

And then, happily, as our GPS lost signal at regular intervals, we got lost and ended up in small towns and villages that we would never have encountered otherwise, catching glimpses of local life: children playing in a school courtyard, right across from which there was a small store from where a woman would periodically cross the street to deliver ice cream or soft drinks to eager school children with grasping hands that reached over the boundary wall; a vigorous, skillful game of soccer in a bare patch of land; a farmer scrubbing his horse clean in front of his house while having an animated conversation on his cellphone (you cannot make up these kind of things, can you?); and climbing higher and higher on crooked, unpaved roads lined with houses that left you wondering how people managed to live here. And just before we started on Rt 143, on a short patch of Rt 149, at an extremely sharp bend on road that could only be traversed by one car at a time, we came across the lovely Dona Juana waterfall. It is a beautiful, small series of cascades, lovely for a picnic or taking pictures or for the gorgeous view facing away from it; there is also a colorful block of stones lining the road on each side at this bend which creates a rather pleasing effect.

There were many such moments - some planned, other serendipitous - that made this some of the most beautiful and picturesque driving I have ever done. I wished it would never end, but they always do, don't they? All you can do is savor those lovely moments and wait for the next one.

Vrrrooooom.....!!!

Travel: Puerrrrrrrrto Riiiiicoh! (Puerto Rico)

2011-03-09T22:39:00.028-05:00

For complete picture set slideshow, click here

I needed a little push to tide me over the end of the winter; a vacation in Puerto Rico - a US territory that is a short four-hour hop away from NYC and a tiny speck in the middle of the Caribbean sea, accomplished just that and much more. I still have a smile on my face, and a colleague just mentioned that he has not seen me this relaxed in a long time. Without further delay then, some favorite moments:

1. The glorious sunshine:
Aah! Rarely have I basked in such glorious and delicious sunshine. Days and days of clear blue skies, hot and dry weather, every day better than the one before. This was rejuvneation of the body, soul, and mind.

2. Spectacular drives
I love to rent a car wherever I go, and having driven all over the world, I can easily say this has been my favorite experience (overtaking the thrilling drives on German autobahns outside Munich). So much so that I will devote an entire blog next week to the 'Ruta Panoramica,' considered one of the most beautiful drives in the Caribbean. Puerto Rico is a small island, it's easy to drive from one end to the other in two- to three-hours. There are magnificent, soothing coastal drives along the Caribbean sea, where the beautiful blue waters seem at arms reach; drives in lush tropical rain forest; meandering routes through the mountains - 'La Cordillera Central' or 'Central Range' - where the dramatic scenery forces you to stop ever so often and wonder; get lost a little and you may find yourself in a tiny coastal hamlet where the good life seems to be lived every day, or small towns nestled in the mountain ranges where time appears to stand still. All this is within an hour-or-two from the capital, San Juan.

3. Food
If you really want to eat like the locals, street food is the way to go. As I drove all over the island, I was delighted to find readily accessible options everywhere - food trucks parked at strategic and not-so-strategic locations; mom-and-pop stores serving delicious local fare; lechoneras - a favorite for family-outings during holidays- serving mouth-watering pork ( a whole pig is seasoned, and slowly cooked over a fire); shacks serving succulent, mouth-watering, barbecued meats to be enjoyed with local Medallia beer; quaint, sleepy yet atmospheric sea-side villages serving the freshest sea-food plucked from the ocean moments ago.

I had some great foodie moments: Starving after a delightful, vigorous swim at a Rincon beach, I came across a matronly, pleasant woman who was making pinchos (in this case barbecued chicken on skewers) that were cooked just right and downright tasty; later that night, having been turned away from a restaurant because the kitchen was closed, we stumbled across a taco-bar where we savored pork and chicken tacoes in the fresh, open air of a cool, breezy night, hearing the waves crash against the shoreline in the near distance.

And this was the best: on our last day, as I was looking for a gas station to fill up our rental car, I came across Bebo BBQ, barely a block away from the Dollar car rental facility. I was intrigued by what I saw: a humble appearing shack that was packed with people and a long queue of customers. Even more interesting was the fact that there were no tourists here. Following one of my cardinal rules of eating - if you see a local joint packed with natives, just walk in - I said to Preety, "We have to go in here."And so we joined the queue, watching the amazing spectacle of planes landing a few hundred feet away - yes, the airport runway is right across the avenue. When my turn came, a local kindly translated and assisted me in ordering. I got the pork ribs, and oh boy! oh boy! - one of the most delicious meals I have ever had materialized: mouth-watering, falling-off-the-bone, melt-in-your-mouth, tender juicy meat. I am drooling and my salivary glands hurting as I write this.

I then pointed to a large, thick and dark-colored sausage to my by-now-local-friend. He enthusiastically explained to me that it was moriclla or blood sausage - a local favorite - made from pigs blood immediately after it is slaughtered and then stuffed with meat and seasoned with spices. Preety and I both shuddered, she in disgust, I in delight. My friend requested the waitress to give me a sample, and as I proceeded to try it, I noticed a few locals observing me intently, curiously and with some anxiety. They delivered smiles of approval when I gave them a big thumbs-up sign.

4. Beautiful beaches

There is a vast selection of beaches on this tiny island and you can pick your type of beach. Happening spots with activities and facilities galore? Check. Quite, secluded coves where you can pretty much be the only one around? Check. Pristinely clean beaches with the gentle waves and water just at the right temperature for swimming? Check. Surfer's paradise? Check. Pure white sand, the kind that feels like a gentle massage between your toes? Check.

And though I did not make it to the islands of Culebra and Vieques - short ferry- or plane-rides away from the mainland - they are reputed to have some of the best beaches in the world.

As I spent the days spent sprawled out on the beach, the warm, soothing-texture of the sand below me and the vast gorgeous opal-blue Caribbean sea laid out ahead, under the shade of the palm trees fringing the beach that swished and swayed to a cool breeze, I truly felt happy to be alive.

5. Awe-inspiring sunsets

From literally any vantage point on the island, you can partake in the spectacle of a memorable sunset. My favorite was at the Los Morillos lighthouse in Cabo Rojo, along the west coast. Perched on a limestone cliff with a craggy, jagged edge that plunges a few hundred feet into the ocean, the views of the ocean are spectacular enough as it is, and add to this a brilliant sunset, and it makes for a memorable evening.

6. What's in a name?

I kept wondering: with places with such enchanting, evocative and rolling-beautifully-off-your-tongue names such as Aibonito, Jayuya, Ponce, Isabela, Rincon - how could this island not be splendid? I was proven correct, by several degrees.

7. The friendliest people

Some of the nicest, most helpful people that I have come across in my travels, with an innate joie de vivre. Add to this the laid-back, appealing vibe of the island, and you may never want to leave.

MuSiC UnderGround: Tunes in the NYC Subway system

2011-03-01T00:01:00.006-05:00

(For picture set, click here)

I will my weary body down the stairs in the Union Square subway station, returning home from a long, draining day at work. I still have to take the L train to 14th street, and then walk another 10 minutes to my apartment. Sigh! Suddenly my ears pick up a beat, a rhythmic pulsation of drums. It seems to be coming from just behind those stairs.

My step quickens, I crane my neck forward, eagerly seeking this font of music. There he is: the drummer - bald, muscular, his arms covered in tattoos. The bloke is talented: I watch mesmerized, as his hands move in a blur, pounding the drums, producing a funky, infectious, throbbing beat. There is a smile on my face and I am tapping my feet (as are several other onlookers). Not only is he an outstanding drummer, but also a juggler par excellence: he tosses up the drumsticks in a couple of fancy twirls, and then as I watch in awe, he throws one of them against the large pipe running along the ceiling and neatly catches it as it ricochets back to him. A couple of enthusiastic teenagers can resist no longer, and break into some avant garde dance moves, oblivious to all the expectant commuters.

The train arrives - I let it go. And another - that too I let go by. I am having too much fun. When the third one arrives, I drop a couple of dollars in his tipping bag, there is a mutual, barely discernible nodding of the heads in acknowledgement, and I board the train. And that tiredness I earlier began with? It's long gone, replaced instead by an energetic feeling. These then are the stories of the musicians who play their music and sing their songs throughout the NYC metro-system. A few are superbly talented, with albums, television appearances and minor celebrity to their credit; others are able and competent, honing their skills, practicing before one of the toughest audience in the world (the New Yorker), waiting for that big break, as they wait tables during the day or bartend at night; and then there are the optimistic or brave, who are here to do their thing, let everything else be damned, listen if you want or just move on otherwise. One common thread however, binds them all together: a passion for what they do and where they do it.

They are an eclectic group : the bohemian, free-spirited, lovely woman, crooning in that mellifluous voice, her long fingers tenderly strumming the guitar strings (watching her, you could fall in love, at least until your train arrives); the quartet of hombres and their Mariachi ensemble, who bustle in-between train compartments, energetically and efficiently belt out a tune, and are gone before the next stop, collecting a few tips along the way; the elegant American-Indian playing soothing native tunes on his flute; immigrants from almost every country, playing exotic instruments and tunes - sometimes I want to ask them, but then stop, not wanting the mystique to be peeled off. Some things are best left unknown.

They make the daily commute of thousands of New Yorkers a little more bearable and happier; they provide spontaneous moments of joy and delight, as when you suddenly twirl your partner around or wind up in an embrace when a romantic memory is rekindled; they bring smiles to tired faces, providing pleasant endings to the work-day; but most of all, it is their music that touches the heart, strikes a chord, and for a few moments, makes everything else appear trivial. Grateful New Yorkers, in return, have something to offer too: perhaps the world's largest stage, in constant flux and composed of people from every nationality and ethnicity; a crowd hard to please but gracious and generous when they see something they like; and tips that surely allow these artists to carry on dreaming.

These are the things that make New York City the remarkable place that it is. And if New York is as much a city below terra firma as above it, then the Music Underground is one of its most important institutions and the artists its essential citizens. Rock on!

Initiative: my RED best 'friend'

2011-02-22T10:04:00.001-05:00

I met this new dude recently. Or dudette perhaps. On matters of gender, we are somewhat androgynous and vague (and we would be digressing anyway). RED has been making overtures to me for months, if not years, and yet I resisted. They were, not by any stretch of the imagination, subtle: e-mails that surreptitiously appeared in my inbox; casual, sly references through friends, even friends-of-friends; flirtatious letters via snail-mail (who uses that these days?).

Being human, I finally succumbed to RED's advances. And oh boy, was I blown away! RED is literally at my beck and call, any time of the day. RED arrives, elegantly, noiselessly, seductively, in an elegant scarlet-red gown (and hence the name). And it is what I find underneath - layers and layers of tantalizing intrigue - as I take off that gown that makes my pulse quicken, my mind to desire RED fervently, my quivering, trembling hands to rip off that bodice in a frenzy of passion to seek what new sensual delights await me this time around. RED is different each time, offering new pleasures, insights, fantasies - RED's main motive is always to please me, satisfy and acknowledge me, yet to leave me with notion that there is far more to offer, and that the next time it will be even better, we shall soar higher, accomplish greater things, together. RED does not ask for too much in return: just a trivial monthly payment and the assurance that, each time I have had my fill, I escort RED back safely, whence RED came from.

You gasp! What has our blogger gotten himself into? An expensive, titillating consort or escort? A no-strings-attached relationship? Something even more sinister, kinky, devious? Nothing of that sort! I am just speaking of NETFLIX, the company that delivers DVDs via US mail (in a scarlet-red envelope) and also offers a huge selection of movies for instant streaming via the internet. Ah readers, I see your imagination really got the better of you. I am sorry to disappoint, but this is a family-friendly blog after all.

Netflix has been one of my greatest personal discoveries in the last few years. For a meagre ten US-dollars a month, I can get one DVD at a time in the mail and an unlimited selection of movies from its online catalogue (more expensive plans with more options are available). I have been exposed to movies from genres, cultures, and languages that I would have never otherwise considered or had an inkling of. I can literally browse through a selection of movies from all over the world. If I want to learn more about samurai culture, I find a samurai-themed movie from Japan; if it's the sublime beauty of Tuscany that I seek, I look for an Italian movie; if I want to increase my knowledge of the cultural nuances of Latin America, I can find a movie from Colombia or Brazil or Venezuela; and many times, I just let Netflix surprise me with recommendations. You see, each time I view and rate a movie, Netflix dutifully stores this information in its memory, and then tries to find something that I may like based on my previous choices. And more often than not, it is correct.

Netflix is then, the ideal friend. Always there, like a rock, never asking for much in return but always ready to give. Netflix provides pleasure first and foremost, but also increases my knowledge and awareness of the world: a movie-based encyclopedia, if you will. And it has stood by me, steadfast and loyal, assisting my year-long quest to not watch television (I shall blog about that when I hit the milestone). There is also something just immensely satisfying about the ritual of receiving and returning a Netflix envelope: as I drop the Netflix DVD in the mailbox, my mind is already abuzz about the next movie from my queue (you can stack up a queue in your online account, and as one movie is returned, the next one in your queue arrives). The turnaround time is short so that the wait never gets painful, and should I ever lose a movie or the US mail service bungles, Netflix is ever so nonchalant and friendly about it: no problem Sandeep, these things happen buddy, let's just move on and send you the next movie in your queue, shall we?

So now you see why I am so enamored of my new best friend RED? There are few relationships in life like this, and I plan to honor, cherish and maintain this. I remember an ad, when I was growing up in India - I cannot remember the product it was for - but it ended with an infectious scream:

'GIMME RED!'

Travel: a trip to Egypt unravels

2011-02-15T19:34:00.001-05:00

The circumstances of my recent trips, in retrospect, were portentous: I had managed to be in Thailand just after the occupation of Suvarnabhumi airport in Bangkok by political protesters that brought the country to a standstill, and for a while, decimated its tourism; I arrived in Japan in the hazy swirl and panic of avian influenza that was tormenting the world; last year, I was stranded in Munich, when the volcano-with-the-name-that-cannot-be-pronounced erupted in Iceland, spewing the atmosphere with volcanic ash and shutting down airspace over much of Europe; and then we had postponed our trip to Peru last year when heavy rains destroyed the railway tracks to Macchu Picchu, making this most sought after destination inaccessible.

And so I was not too surprised when I saw my trip to Egypt fall apart. I had planned everything out and was really getting excited when the now historic and momentous youth-led revolution began unfolding. The rest, as they say, is history. Was I angry? Not at all; how could I be? How important was a personal trip of my mine compared to the freedom and liberation of millions who had been suffocated for decades by a oppressive dictator? I wasn't losing sight of the big picture. I can travel to Egypt another time.

What did surprise me was the rapidity with which events spread in Egypt and the rest of the Arab world, and one of the principle mediums for these protests: social networking sites on the Internet, most importantly Facebook and Twitter. Unbelievable! The very sites that we log on to every day to get in touch with family and friends; the very sites that facilitate my blog; these very sites were now fomenting revolutions, unseating despots, altering the tides of civilizations. Remarkable! I would not be surprised if, at some point in time, Mark Zuckerberg and the founders of Twitter are recipients of the Nobel Peace Prize.

So Egypt will have to wait for a while, but on the plus side, I have my itinerary already planned out and my research done. This allows me to set my sights on another country and learn more about it. And those who are suffering under the yolk of wicked regimes, invite me to your country, and a revolution may just happen!

Travel: A slice of Texas - Austin & Hill Country

2011-02-02T01:45:00.004-05:00

SoCo neighborhood, with a view of downtown and the Capital building in the center to the north

Click here for complete picture set

As soon as I drove into the capital city of Texas - on a whirlwind road trip with Preety and my parents - I found myself under the spell of this enchanting city. Austin, located in central Texas has much to offer, but it may not be readily apparent at first - typical of the easy-going and laid-back Texas way of life. Its young, savvy and educated population - Austin is a major university and college town and a major high tech industry hub - endow the city with a vitality and vibrancy that is infectious. The city reminded me of San Francisco: a open, liberal culture with a relaxed approach to life; a bohemian and quirky streak that residents are proud of; an abundance of art, theater and culture; a sizzling gastronomical culture; a love for the outdoors and physical pursuits; and embracing life with wide open arms and a kindred spirit.

It helped matters tremendously that during my stay there, Austin was bathed in glorious sunshine at 70 F (while New York shivered in frigid, single-digit temperatures). Some of my favorite experiences during my short stay were:

Torchy's Taco truck

-the food trucks! Austin seems to have pioneered the trend of food trucks serving delicious, affordable fare from all sorts of cuisines. At every corner, there was a psychedelically colored food truck serving mouth watering morsels. Tacos, hamburgers, hot dogs, Korean BBQ, crepes and pastries, ice creams and milkshakes, Indian...One could easily spend a couple of days on a pilgrimage to these trucks, eating mouth-watering food, chatting with locals, snoozing in between meals on the green, green grass under the warm, warm Austin sun...

Lady Bird Lake, with a view of downtown

- Lady Bird Lake: a reservoir created from the Colorado river, runs through downtown and is a major recreational park for Austinites. On either side of this river are beautifully manicured parks and running tracks. On that warm evening, I felt that all of Austin was out for a run! Others canoed, kayaked or rowed in the lake. Dogs frolicked with each other in the dog park as their doting owners looked on. Some dogs even swam into the river to retrieve wooden sticks or balls. The next morning, I went for a run along the same route, and for a few moments, felt like a local...

Come here for a scrumptious brunch

- SoCo: the 'south of Congress' neighborhood is a delightful neighborhood to stroll through. There are funky boutiques and shops, art houses, wonderful restaurants, trendy, buzzing cafes, and yes, food trucks. And the view up North all the way to the Capitol building is beautiful. We left after feasting on a marvelous brunch at the South Congress Cafe...

In the evening, we had a sumptuous meal at Justine's that serves French cuisine. I barely had a day in Austin and could easily spend a few more days exploring its charms. But time was short, and the inviting Hill Country beckoned. The Hill Country lies to the west of Austin and north of San Antonio. It's a beautiful land of rolling, gently undulating hills; ancient rivers; vast meadows and ranches on which graze cattle, goats, and horses and that are dotted with aged, formidable, gnarled oaks; several vineyards (the Hill Country is the second- largest wine producer in the US); and lovely year-round weather. It's a major tourist and retiree destination, and again, one could spend days, if not weeks in this area.

Hill Country wineries: Beckers Vineyards

We drove to the town of Fredericksburg that has a proud German heritage - German immigrants arrived in the 1800s and settled in the Hill Country - and is the most prominent of many towns with a German background. It's a pleasant base to have, and one can choose from several quaint, lovely Bread-and-Breakfast Inns. I highly recommend the 'Das Garten Haus' where the friendly host, Lynn, served us a delicious breakfast and where the rooms were comfortable and tastefully done. You could spend hours walking along Main Street browsing the stores- I suggest you do this after closing hours if you want to return without a much depleted wallet - that sell high quality goods ranging from fine fashionable clothing, paintings and other objects of art, German artifacts, souveneirs, and so much more. Along the way to Fredericksburg, we made a brief stop at one of the oldest wineries in the regions, Beckers Vineyards.

Enchanted Rock

On our final morning, I woke up early for a drive to the 'Enchanted Rock State Natural Area', marked by a gigantic dome of granite rock. One can hike up a steep half-a-mile trail to the summit of the rock for breathtaking views of the surrounding Hill Country. Early that morning, there was a hint of rain that moistened an early morning gentle breeze, and added to the smell of damp earth, created a fragrance sweeter than any perfume. I ran into several family of deer and a few, bright-red cardinals added a dash of color to the brown and grey surroundings.

The Alamo

Soon enough, it was time to return, but not before we drove through another stretch of beautiful Hill Country, meandering through quaint, old western towns that seemed to have preserved so much of their history and character. We made a final dash to downtown San Antonio to the beautiful and historic 'Alamo'. I would be remiss not to mention the magnificent wildflower blooms in the Hill Country during spring, when the hills and meadows are tapestry of bright colors; it's a major tourist attraction and time for local festivals in the Hill Country.

A slice of Texas then, when savored, will leave you longing for the rest of the pie. And who is to say that you can't have more?

Life: A Doctor, Death & the Promise of Life

2011-01-25T08:44:00.003-05:00

It's been a relentlessly busy last few weeks at work. The harsh, bitter North American winter has been taking a harsh toll on patients - their constitutions made vulnerable by age and disease - like a battering ram punching a gaping hole through the weakened fortifications of a besieged enemy. There were busy, stressful, and long days, taking care of extremely ill patients. A few died. Some expected, others not exactly so. In more situations than one, it was the family members who needed more support then the actual patients themselves. A lot of hand-holding, family meetings, discussions, closure. The severe truth however, is that, for all its pervasiveness and inevitability, can we ever prepare for death?

When the last gasp escaped the lips of a patient, I had to be there, present, firm and strong. Stoic. As family members gathered around the body, each in different stages and expressions of grief. The towering, gentle-faced son, one solitary tear after another streaming down his cheeks, betraying no other signs of the torrent of emotions raging underneath. The daughter, who literally convulsed into grief, with a distressing high-pitched cry and flailing limbs. When I called a woman over the phone to break the news of the unexpected, violent death of her young husband, it took all my resolve not to crumble myself, as the hysterical response at the other end tore into my ears and brain like a cataclysm. In the aftermath, loved ones looked at me: with gratitude, for meaning, with understanding. Some were angry, others distrustful even.

Through this all, I was supposed to be composed and collected, the epitome of reason. Unflappable. How could I tell them that it never gets old? That each time a doctor loses a patient, it shakes his very foundations and senses. It makes us doubt our skill, our knowledge, our science. Years of confidence are shattered into smithereens in an instant, like a ornate chandelier crashing down onto a marble floor, splintering into a million shards and fragments. And then, almost immediately, you have to put yourself back together again (funny, you can't do that with the chandelier). Could I tell them all this?

And now segue to Houston, Texas, where I am meeting my nephew, who will turn one in a few days. The promise of life. As distant as can be from my experiences above. Everything about him speaks about the freshness of life: the unblemished, soft skin; the silky hair; an expression of wonderment in his eyes at every trivial experience. His life is yet an open book whose pages he can write at leisure.

That, I guess, is the beauty of life. It's contradictions, paradoxes, dioramas, in a way keep us going, sustaining and rejuvenating, planting perspective, and reminding us that things are never constant. If there is a trough, there will be a peak; a sharp corner that blindsides will eventually lead to a straight, open road where the view is clear. Life keeps on revealing itself in delightful layers and to give up hope at any one point is nothing but betraying yourself.

Keep moving....forward.

Travel: The best credit card for airline ticket awards

2011-01-19T05:57:00.002-05:00

Several months ago, I came across an article in the 'Travel' section of the New York Times that discussed getting a credit card (linked to an airline or frequent flier program) that maximizes your chances of getting a free or award ticket; it also debated whether one should have a credit card that converts purchases into points instead of miles.

It's a big deal, at least for me. I fly often, and airfare will usually end up accounting for about a third of total trip costs (or greater for international, far-flung destinations). Get a free ticket, and you have instantly saved a lot of money or freed up cash to spend on other stuff during your vacation. For someone who travels infrequently, it would make sense to have points instead of miles, especially if your credit card does not limit you to a single airline.

But for someone who flies frequently, it's far better to get miles. I feel that the most important factor in getting the maximal possible miles and awards is not the type of credit card, but: Loyalty. Loyalty?!!! Did I hear you right, you say, incredulous and stunned! To these f@$%X*** airlines?
Yes, that very precious commodity that airlines, because of their callous and indifferent attitude, can no longer ask of their customers. However, let us face it: with a few exceptions, they are all equally bad in terms of customer service. As long as safety is not compromised (and North American airlines have a pretty good safety sheet), it is in your interest to fly with one particular airline or its partners (most airlines in the world have now coalesced into 3 major alliances) most of the time. I hardly care about frills and luxuries for a few hours.

For several years, I had an American Express Platinum Delta Sky Miles card. After having my fee waived for the first year, I paid an annual fee of $125. While paying less than a $1000 in fees over six years, I earned free tickets amounting to $8000 - $ 10,000 (2 each to Japan, Argentina, Costa Rica; one each to Egypt and India; and several domestic tickets). A nice return on investment! Not only that, for accruing a certain level of miles, I receive an annual free domestic 'companion' ticket for anyone traveling with me, as well as an 'elite' status. This latter benefit - that may not be available with cards that convert dollars to points or are not linked to any one airline - is significant: elite members get on the plane before general boarding. Just being able to embark a plane before the mad rush and queues, avoiding grumpy travelers, and not having to look for overhead cabin space for luggage is a huge mental relief whose value is hard to quantify. Elite members may also get their first bags checked for free (if your airline charges a fee), receive baggage handling priority, can request upgrades, and receive (just maybe!) better customer service in exchange for your loyalty.

I made it a point to book flights on Delta or its partners, even if it meant paying a little extra or going to an airport farther away, or on times or dates that were not my exact preference. And yes, while it is true that airlines are making it harder and harder to redeem miles for award tickets, persistence (another of Preety's hallmarks) pays off. Badgering travel representative over several days, asking for connections on partner airlines, and regularly checking the websites will eventually yield a 'success'.

Sadly, I now have to cancel this card and shift to a Chase Continental Mastercard. This because Continental Airlines - from which I accrued huge chunks of frequent-flier miles on trips to India - has dropped out of the SkyTeam and joined the Sky Alliance. As before, I shall stick to my tried and tested methods. There are many tempting offers out there that attempt to seduce you with new gimmicks and promotions. Read the fine print carefully before you make a switch. As in most other areas of life, loyalty here, too, is rewarded.

Travel: Glamor, Glitz & Seduction in Las Vegas

2011-01-14T05:42:00.008-05:00

For complete picture set, click here

In a recent blog, I had written of some scenic drives and natural parks around Las Vegas. However, let's face it: no one comes to this shimmering outpost in the desert primarily for that purpose. For the millions of people who converge annually at McCarran International Airport, there is just one aim, pure and simple: HEDONISM.

And the dozens of casinos and hundreds of thousands of people employed by them go out of their way to make your pleasure their top priority. Even the citizens of this burgeoning city who are engaged in 'normal' occupations are unwitting accomplices in your shenanigans: they provide day-to-day services and take care of the people who take care of you.

Superlatives applied to a city end up sounding cliched and may box-in its scope. Las Vegas, however, is that rare city that not only embraces its platitudes and stereotypes, but far exceeds them, reveling in the process and making no apologies about it. Sin City? Those Roman orgies seem like child's play. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas? For your sake and mine, it better. Entertainment capital of the world? Almost an understatement: taken as whole, this city is the longest, largest, continuous 24/7 party in full throttle.

The fabled casinos that line the legendary Las Vegas Strip are showpieces of excess: each are little townships in their own, jostling with their neighbors to vie for you attention and ultimately, money. No expense is spared: each casino has thousands of hotel rooms, hundreds of gambling options, fine restaurants, bars and nightclubs, and boutique shopping.

And then the ante is raised some more: in one you can imagine you are wandering among the canals of Venice and even take a gondola ride with a genuine-appearing, crooning gondolier; another has a mesmerizing water-fountain show, where the water dances, twists, coils and bends to a classical symphony in an amazing display of spouting fountains; yet another offers a blazing fire-show accompanied by a pulsating rhythm of pounding drums; in one you can gamble while seeing lions in a nearby glass enclosure!

And on and on it goes, defying imagination. Some of the greatest artists perform day-in-day-out and your head may ache from the choices available. Wish for every known vice or excess and it is eagerly granted. The only question is: What can you resist? Or how much can you take in? Don't worry, Las Vegas is not a city to be enjoyed in one single trip.

This then, is the city where you may literally gamble your life away in the blink of an eye. It has the capacity to titillate the most jaded of minds. Fortunes are lost or made (usually the former) overnight. As you stumble into your casino room, in the wee hours of morning, head spinning, a night of debauchery behind you, spent and wasted, do not feel apologetic or repentant. Instead, ensure that you are rested enough to party even harder for the coming evening. After all, everyone around you is doing and planning just the same thing...

SLIDESHOW: Scenic drives around Las Vegas

2011-01-08T09:08:00.002-05:00

Life: brand NEW year. Same OLD approach?

2011-01-05T16:07:00.001-05:00

It's another new year. Are you going to make an effort to:

1. Bend the status quo?

2. See your own vision through, rather than view things through the distorted prism of society?

3. Nurture your hobbies? your dreams?

4. Be less afraid?

5. Exercise more?

6. Travel more?

7. Not buy into accepted wisdom and convention?

If I may humbly offer a few suggestions:

The Art of Nonconformity
Chris Guillebeau daringly, exhilaratingly, unrepentantly and gloriously lives the lives we all want to live (yet are afraid to). An eclectic mix of world traveler, blogger and writer, entrepreneur, motivator, philanthropist, and what-not, he demonstrates that it can be done.

Seth Godin's Blog
Seth Godin may be one of the most famous bloggers on earth, management and consultant guru and prolific writer of several bestsellers, but his lessons and insights on business and management are just as applicable and relevant to life.

Fear Less
Seth's protege, Ishita, started this great free online magazine called 'Fear Less'. Her team interviews people from all walks of life who talk about and acknowledge their all too real fears (that we can all identify with), and more importantly, how they moved beyond them.

Yes, there will be many more new years and it might be tempting to procrastinate and justify the current order of things. But you may soon run out of new starts, or perhaps when you are finally ready, it may be too late.

It's a brand NEW year.
It's time for a NEW approach.
Start now.
Life is Calling...

On the road, Travel: Scenic drives around Las Vegas

2010-12-30T16:32:00.008-05:00

(For complete picture set, click on picture above)

People usually come to this oasis in the Mojave desert for one reason: to escape, if only just for a few days, the vigors of day-to-day life and indulge in a few vices. The Las Vegas strip is the embodiment of adult entertainment; yet, when all that debauchery and partying leaves you feeling wasted and repentant, it may be useful to remember that redemption is not far by.

We had come to reunite with close friends who had relocated to Las Vegas from New York several months ago. Removed from the Las Vegas strip and it's neon-glittering, glamorous and sexy temptations, I decided to try a new tack: whereas on previous occasions I had dutifully done what one is supposed to do in Vegas, this time I would try to explore some of the scenic sites around Las Vegas. At first, I was skeptical of finding anything promising; as it turns out, the transition from skepticism to wonder is only a short drive away. I had two straightforward criteria for these excursions:

1. They should be not more than an hour away and,
2. Could be easily enjoyed in another hour or two.

This would allow me to do these drives after an early morning start (when everyone was blissfully slumbering) and I could still come back in time to join everyone for brunch or an early lunch and the rest of the merriment.

1. Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area
This park is just 45 minutes away from Las Vegas. A scenic 13-mile, one-way loop takes you through beautiful scenery consisting of dramatic red-rock formations, sheer cliffs capped with snow in the winters, and a vast desert floor bordered on one side by a mountain ridge, making for a dramatic landscape. Along the way there are several scenic overlooks, hiking trails and picnic spots. The loop is also very popular with cyclists, given its solitude and scarcity of automobiles. Try to catch the park at sunrise, when the park is bathed in a warm, golden-yellow light, creating a lovely effect.

2. Lake Mead Natural Recreation Area
A huge reservoir created by the construction of the Hoover Dam on the Colorado river, Lake Mead provides a welcome aquatic relief and contrast from the barren desert landscape. It's a popular place for water-based activities, and the drive along Lakeshore Road (Rt 166) is short and eye-catching. Engrossed in taking pictures, I was startled by a pair of coyotes that had crept up to me, and I hastened back into my car! To be overawed by man's architectural and engineering prowess, make a short stop at the Hoover Dam.

3. Valley of Fire State Park
Although this park violates both the conditions I set above (although not by too much), if you have to choose one drive, this would be my pick. About and hour and fifteen minutes away, this astoundingly beautiful park is a mosaic of dramatic red sandstone formations sprinkled in the vast, arid Mojave desert: this sharp contrast between the two principle elements (colored rock and arid desert) only serves to heighten its beauty. Wind erosion has sculpted the rock into surreal and bizarre formations: the Beehive was my favorite, and some massive rocks are perched so delicately and precariously atop each other that it appears that they might topple over any minute. One can see 4000-year old, pristinely preserved petroglyphs carved into the rock by the ancient Indians. And at sunset, this park vividly embraces its name as the setting sunrays and shadows bounce of the rocks to create a fiery red, orange and yellow display. It was quite interesting to see a couple exchanging wedding vows at a particularly scenic spot.

There are several other options should one have the time and inclination: Mount Charleston is a a short drive away, and one can escape the sizzling summer heat or indulge in skiing during winter, taking in lovely vistas along the way. Somewhat further are even more famous destinations such as the Death Valley National Park, the Grand Canyon, and the Zion National Park. And driving in the desert itself can be a soothing experience: the stark, arid landscape covered with scrubby, tenacious vegetation; bare, brown hills that break the monotony of the landscape; a sheer vast expanse where you may find yourself driving alone for long, contemplative stretches, the never ending horizon ahead, where the clear blue sky merges with the desert; clear nights sprinkled with a million twinkling stars; and the knowledge that this is the land of ancient Indians who lived in harmony with the land, nature and spirits; all combine to evoke a spiritual and zen-like atmosphere whose tug you may find hard to resist.

As you can see, there is clearly another side to Las Vegas that one can revel in. Only if...

SLIDESHOW: the India in NYC - Jackson Heights

2010-12-24T07:41:00.000-05:00

New York City, Travel: the India in NYC: Jackson Heights

2010-12-20T22:37:00.002-05:00

(For complete picture set, click here)

Sooner than later, every individual from the Indian subcontinent who disembarks on the shores of this city will be made aware of Jackson Heights. Very quickly, to reacquaint oneself with the pleasures, comforts and familiarity of a motherland left behind, a visit will ensue. This neighborhood in the borough of Queens is a magnet for immigrants from south-east Asia looking for affordable housing, and the sliver of 74th street between Roosevelt and 37th avenues is its downtown shopping center.

As one emerges from the Roosevelt Ave. subway line, the cacophony of the daily hustle and bustle, commerce, several vernacular accents, and blaring horns is at once understandable and reassuring: this is home away from home. Lest this organized chaos not douse your newly-acquired immigrant anxiety, the appearance and garbs of its inhabitants should put you to ease: women in a colorful salwar-kameez or a burqa, a sardarji in a magnificent turban above a flowing beard, a Tibetan Buddhist monk in his sparse, brown colored robes, a gentleman in a crisp white kurta-pyjama, all in fluid, easy movement without a trace of self-consciousness.

A few interesting observations as I walked around:

If an ethnic enclave can serve as a barometer of an expatriate's nostalgic priorities or its peoples' pleasurable preoccupations, then it won't take you long to figure out what is important here:
1. Food
2. Bollywood movies and music
3. Jewelry shopping (especially gold)

The Eagle cinema - where I once caught a Karan Johar flick while munching on samosas - is now a forlorn, decrepit, shuttered down structure. Ironically, it has been a victim of Bollywood's own success in the US, with multiplexes playing the latest Bollywood releases, and sales of pirated movie versions thriving.

The middle of the block is occupied by the massive Patel Brothers flagship store, who have now become the de facto grocers to the Indian community in the US. Go in to find anything from Dalda ghee to Maaza, and be prepared to walk out smelling like a spice market.

The venerable Jackson Diner, responsible for introducing many a New Yorker to the pleasures of Indian cuisine, is still going strong, especially packing in the crowds for its weekend buffet and weekday lunch specials.

It's quite interesting to observe who is walking around: in my short stroll I ran into Bangladeshi families, Tibetan monks, Latinos, whites and African-Americans, Hindus, Sikhs, Nepali hipsters, Pakistanis, people from the middle-east, Sri Lankans, and I am sure a few whose ethnicities I did not recognize. A veritable melting pot.

Perhaps I shall run into you, somewhere in Jackson Heights, kulfi in one hand and a bag of Patel Brothers groceries in the other...

Initiative: 81/2 ways to keep exercising

2010-12-12T11:20:00.003-05:00

I find it quite astonishing that we do what we have to: stressful work-weeks and chore-filled weekends. We make time for all of that (and then some more), and yet when it comes to eking out a few minutes daily for the most important thing we own - our bodies - we skimp! Some tips, then, that have motivated me to continue exercising and staying fit over the years:

1. Make it a state of mind
Nothing else will do, really. To avoid exercising is to disrespect your body, your most prized possession; nurturing it is the best possible investment you could ever make. The pay-off is tremendous. Life is busy, so find ways to stay active that harmonize with your daily schedule: chuck your car if you can, or at least minimize its use. Walk as much as you can, ride a bicycle, take the stairs...
Make the time for it to happen; you just cannot afford not to.

2. Pick your poison
Imagine a state of being in the future that you would be absolutely miserable in: afflicted with preventable medical ailments, pills and doctor visits dictating the rhythms of your life? limited by a frail and unconditioned constitution from enjoying physical pursuits that your friends regularly engage in? obese and arthritic, suffering from poor self-esteem? confined to a sedentary existence in the golden years of your life? Burn a picture in your brains, or put up a poster where you can observe it daily. Then start working on it now so that you do not get there later.

3. Keep it simple
Honest, straightforward goals will keep you going instead of self-defeating, grandiose plans. Spending an hour in the gym daily? Not happening. A chiseled physique in a few months? Stop deluding yourself.
Instead, try to get in a just a few minutes several days a week in activities you find enjoyable and that are accessible. Have a simple set of exercises that require a minimum of preparation and equipment.

4. Home in
If just getting to the gym takes more than 15-20 minutes, it will take you seconds to find an excuse to put it off. Find a facility or a running path close to home. Or convert your home into a workout space; you really need don't that much space or equipment. I have a few dumbbells, a yoga mat and an exercise ball that allow me to do a variety of exercises right in my bedroom.

5. Keep the routine
If you are able to commit even 10-15 minutes daily, three-to-four times a week for the rest of your life, you are golden. Do not disrupt this routine at any cost: one built over months to years can take just a few days of sloth to destroy. When traveling, find hotels that have a pool or exercise center. Running in a new city can be awesome. And if nothing else, use your luggage as weights!

6. The Kamasutra
When nothing else will make you rise to the occasion (no pun intended, of course), remind yourself that studies conclusively show that individuals who exercise regularly and stay fit have a far better sex lives. Well into the later years of their lives. Who needs Viagara?

7. Mix things up
At this junction of our lives, most of us exercise just to stay healthy and feel good. Don't make a workout into a tedious activity. To prevent ennui from setting in, mix things up. Cross- train, have a bicycle, swim, make time for sports you enjoy.

81/2 . Read 'Life Calling.'

Stay healthy!

Travel: Mother Nature's astonishing beauty - part I

2010-11-28T08:51:00.000-05:00

(For the complete picture set, click here)

The Gap, seen from Mt. Tammany

It would most likely have been another routine and unremarkable day, had my friend Ed not called out of the blue and proposed a hike in the Delaware Water Gap national park. It was late November: wintry and bleak, but happily, an unseasonably warm day. I readily agreed.

The sun in the upper right corner tries to peer out of the bleak, cloudy wintry sky

As we hiked up Mt. Tammany, I was overawed by the raw beauty that I encountered. A mundane day had turned into anything but. The trees, now bereft of every single leaf, presented a dramatic panorama against the backdrop of a gray, cloudy sky through which the sun persistently but ineffectually attempted to peer through. The silhouettes of their never ending branches and sub-branches appeared to be a tangled, dendritic web; it was difficult to say where one tree ended and the other began.

Moss covered boulder

Life abounds despite winter approaching

Evidence of the encroaching, harsh tentacles of winter were everywhere, but we still encountered a remarkable variety of flora and fauna: lichen and moss draping massive boulders; squirrels hoarding the last available nuts in preparation for hibernation; a few eagles that soared lazily, imperially above the forest canopy; a black bear startled by us into a quick dive behind the rocks; a family of white-tailed dear that elegantly leaped across our path, and then paused to watch us with intense, curious gazes - ready to dart like an arrow at the slightest sign of hostility.

Tresses of a beauty blowin' 'n the wind? or base of fallen tree?

Arboreal monster hanging upside down? or suspended tree branch?

Autumn necklace? or rock pendant?

The plants, rocks, trees, sky, and fallen tree trunks presented a fantastical and mesmerizing array of shapes - indeed one was limited only by one's imagination. The base of a fallen tree trunk appeared like the tresses of a beautiful woman, blown back by a brisk wind; we were alarmed by what appeared to be a grotesque, arboreal monster, hanging upside down among the trees, only to realize it was a fallen branch dangling just so!; a few beautiful rust-orange leaves had coalesced around a shiny, moss covered rock in the form of a resplendent autumn necklace. Or was it a rock pendant?

Lovely Dunhill Creek

Towards the end of the day, when the sun was vanishing in a fiery, flaming orange in the distant horizon beyond the low set hills, we found ourselves besides Dunhill Creek. The brook cascaded down in several small waterfalls, through boulders of all sizes strewn around, trunks of fallen trees spanning the stream in a crisscross lattice. What was most enchanting was the magical light at that time of the evening in which we found ourselves in this Edenic setting. It is impossible to describe in words, but I really felt that this is how heaven must be.

It was a really remarkable day for me, especially since I had not planned it this way at all. It was an almost surreal feeling to drive barely an hour away from New York City, right into the lap of Mother Nature. As regards the Delaware Water Gap, one could do far worse than reading about it in this article from the New York Times.

At the end of the day, I felt truly thankful to be alive and physically able too see nature's marvelous bounty. And of course, thanks to my good friend Ed...

Travel: 13 reasons why you love to travel

2010-11-21T15:49:00.004-05:00

10 or more = Hardcore! All you need is a ticket to ride
7-9 = Usually up for anything under the sun (with just a little prodding perhaps)
5-6 = 'Oh I get by with a little help from my friends...'
3-4 = Honey, can I stay in bed please?!
<3 = Never heard of a passport. Duh?!

So here goes. Find where you fit on this scale:

1. The first thing you seek out in the Sunday newspaper is the 'Travel' section. Indeed, you are prepared to fight with others for first rights...

2. You love hanging out at airports. Your pulse quickens and excitement mounts on the way to the airport. You think that airports are not travel intersections, but literally, crossroads of life...

3. Many a leisurely, languid afternoon have you spent thumbing through your passport(s), gazing at stamps from different countries. And of course, you have your passport number memorized pat...

4. You have turned the dreaded chore of packing into a fine art. Yes, you could literally pack in your sleep...

5. Most of your magazine subscriptions are for travel magazines.

6. As you go through your year-end credit card summary, travel-related expenses make up a big chunk of the total. And every new-year resolution to do something about it is a lost cause...

7. Your trips (destinations and times of the year) are set for the next two-to-three years.

8. When friends play the game of 'What would you have been if not what you are doing now', your answer is always the same: travel writer and photographer.

9. You seriously consider making a career out of travel writing and/or photography (or anything else related to travel).

10. You can spend fascinating, spellbound hours watching airplanes land and takeoff. And the little ones are agape too - not at the sight of the mammoth birds, but at the adult who is out-shouting, out-jumping them all silly...

11. You plan to quit your job for one year (or some prolonged period of time) and travel the world with your family. What about the future after that? Who knows...

12. Some of your best friendships have been forged during travel.

13. You, naturally, write a blog about travel.

How did you stack up?

New York City: Biking along the Hudson river in Manhattan

2010-11-15T19:43:00.001-05:00

(Click on picture above to see complete set)

In this adrenaline-addicted, veritable concrete jungle, an opportunity to ride one's bicycle on the west side of Manhatattan along the Hudson River is a true pleasure, the closest one might feel in the embrace of Mother Nature without having to leave the confines of the city. Whereas every local will eventually make this pilgrimage in one or the other locomotive form (bicycle, walking or running, rollerblading,boat, helicopter even!), it's an experience tourists must not depart without - to do so would be missing an opportunity to delve into a vital part of a Manhattanite's life.

After cutting across Manhattan from the east to the west, I enter the biking path at 22nd street and start my journey up towards the George Washington bridge. Along the way there are several attractions, man-made and natural. A constant backdrop is the beautiful Hudson river, now cleaner, healthier and vibrant, bustling with constant activity. These are some of the highlights of my ride:

- at W 30th street is the Port Authority Heliport, from where one can take a chopper ride to get a bird's eye view of the stunning landscape of Manhattan. I sometimes dread this section since the powerful gusts of wind generated by the rotor blades of a helicopter taking off or landing can almost throw me of my bike!

- on W 43rd street one can take the Circle Line cruises that take you around the island of Manhattan.

- at W 46th street is the superb Intrepid Sea, Air and Space Museum, the highlight of which is the aircraft carrier Intrepid, one of the most storied ships in America's naval history. It's massive form reminds me of a hulking giant in repose (not that I have ever seen a giant!).

- Just before the museum is an area popular for political demonstrations, given New York's prominence on the world stage and its home to the United Nations. The most common group of protesters that I have come across are Tibetans and Falun Gong followers. (Come to think about it, the subject of ire of both groups is the Chinese government. Hmmm...)

- W 49th street serves as a dock for the massive ships of the Norwegian Cruise Lines. It's quite a sight to see one of these mammoth, colorfully painted ships gliding on the Hudson. The thousands of passengers standing on the deck appear miniscule, ant-like and insignificant. It's very irritating when a ship anchors or is about to begin a voyage, as the constant stream of passengers crossing the bike path to-and-fro from the ship slow down things and pose a constant accident hazard.

- at W 72nd street, the city offers free kayaking from summer into late fall; all one needs is a willingness to get wet and a plucky spirit. The sensation of kayaking while a thousand-times larger cruise ship passes by several feet away can be eerie and thrilling!

- Riverside Park stretches from this point to W 158 street, and it is from here that the relative claustrophobia of the previous section finally ends. One is now biking right next to the river and one can - if involved in a mishap - quite literally tumble into the Hudson. To the left is the expanse of the Hudson river and New Jersey shoreline at the opposite bank, and further down one begins to discern the outline of the George Washington bridge and the beginning of the gorgeous Palisades Interstate Park. The buoyed boats and small yachts bob languorously in the water, like a baby about to enter the haze of a deep, delicious sleep. To the right, at several sections of the park, one is right next to the Henry Hudson Parkway, with cars zipping by in a blur.

- The best is yet to come. Biking beyond Riverside park, one continues onto the Hudson River Greenway where the foliage becomes really dense and beautiful, especially during autumn. The Manhattan skyline fades into the background and the George Washington bridge looms larger as one enter Fort Washington Park. At the base of the New York side of the bridge, is a beautiful, scarlet red, evocative and beautifully restored lighthouse ('Little Red Lighthouse'). It's a great place to take a breather, sit down and have a picnic in the lovely patch of grass around it, take in the vista and contemplate whatever crosses your mind. It's also a fantastic spot for taking photographs. The strong-hearted will then climb the very steep but thankfully short hill to enter the cluster of streets that eventually lead to the bike path on the bridge itself, and then cross state lines into New Jersey. From there on it's into the Palisades Park for more scintillating biking, but that is another story for a different day...

- scattered through out this whole stretch are playgrounds, tennis courts, soccer fields, baseball parks, dog parks, and picnic areas. Several stretches of the park have been designed in a trendy, arty and sophisticated fashion reminiscent of the fascinating Highline , where locals and tourists alike can pause and put up their feet. The park also has its share of resident geese - I was lucky to have one family pose for me!

It's truly a marvelous and eclectic experience, another spoke in the wheel that makes NYC the magical, exciting city that it is. At any time, and especially weekends, the park is buzzing with locals and tourists, people literally from all walks of life. It's emblematic of the way New Yorkers live: lots and lots of people in close proximity finding a way to coexist and discovering their own little island of bliss. And guess what? Going back, it's the same route now seen in a different direction, and quite literally, a different perspective...

Life: Embracing a different point of view

2010-11-09T05:03:00.000-05:00

I was recently at a dinner and gala organized by the local chapter of AAPI (American Association of Physicians of Indian Origin) in New Jersey. I happened to be seated next to a plastic surgeon; this distinguished gentleman was one of the original wave of immigrants who had come to the US in the '60s and '70s. We began talking and he asked me what I was currently doing. I told him that, despite sub-specializing in infectious diseases, I currently practiced as an academic hospitalist. On being asked why I wasn't pursuing my specialty, I remarked that this had been a very conscious and deliberate decision, for several reasons: I felt somewhat limited in the role of consultant; enjoyed the variety of cases I saw as an internist; loved the bonhomie and challenge of working with medical residents and students; and perhaps most of all, really enjoyed my lifestyle - I had significant chunks of time off during the year that allowed me to pursue several hobbies and interests, in effect having a 'second life.' I felt that I was constantly evolving; I may be making far less money than my potential, but nonetheless, I was very satisfied.

My explanation did not go down too well with my new-found benefactor. He eyed me with a stern expression, wagged his index finger at me at said: "No. This is just temporary, time pass! You have to start a real career soon, open your own practice. What you are doing now is not sustainable and there won't be any growth in your career." I opened my mouth to protest, but with a shake of his head he brusquely cut me off and continued: " You may struggle in the beginning as you try to develop a practice, but that is okay. Your wife can support you for a year or two. If you need help finding a job, I can set up a meeting with this prominent infectious diseases specialist I know very well. I speak to you as I would to my son." He ended by handing me his business card on which he scribbled his cell-phone number, urging me to call him at the earliest to set up a dinner meeting.

I was on the verge of speaking again, thinking of making an eloquent argument to my interlocutor, to explain to him why my priorities were different from his. But then I gave pause and thought, 'Wait a moment, let me think where this guy is coming from.' It was clear to me that he spoke in earnest and with my best interests at heart. It dawned upon me that my new friend was distilling the very essence of his experiences over the last few decades. When he arrived in the late '60s, he was a true pioneer, navigating unchartered, murky territory in a new land that in those times was not very accepting of foreigners. Through dint of sheer hard work and determination, he had succeeded, making money and fame along the way. For him and his brethren, it was difficult to sympathize with the current crop of doctors' priorities on lifestyle choices and time away from work: for him, free time had always been a luxury and the fact that younger doctors wanted several weeks and months away from work was unthinkable, blasphemy even! I appreciated the fact that my generation owed his a big debt. It had been relatively easier for me to come to the US to start a career because of yeoman work by him: people like him had laid the groundwork, so that for coming generations things were more defined and organized.

Why then, I ruminated, did I have to try and realign his plane of thinking to mine? It would be very unlikely to change the views of a man that had been set in stone and hardened over time, and I might lose a friend and ally in trying to do so. In dissecting his views, I had understood more about him than had I rejected them outright. If everyone agreed with me all the time, it would be my loss: not only would it stop my own personal growth, but I can't think of a more perverse form of loneliness than one where no one challenges your thoughts and beliefs.

I remind myself now, that rather than going on the defensive and trying to justify myself for whatever I am or do, it's far easier and useful to embrace a different point of view and attempt to see the reasons behind it. Only then can I continue to become a better person. Growth in diversity.

Travel: Foods eaten on roads traveled

2010-11-01T22:16:00.006-04:00

Foods eaten on roads traveled

(click on picture above to see complete set)

Salud, my friends!

Let me confess some of my food vanities: I consider myself somewhat of a gourmand, a connosseiur of good food. Lurking deep in my visceral shadows is a in-the-closet food-critic, itching to unleash his raves and rants about eats. I pride myself on being able to pick a good restaurant as I walk past by (ask Preety!). I can't give you a tangible explanation for this ability; I just happen to 'feel' it. And so, a lot of my life and travels revolve around food.
I also happen to be extremely lucky to be living in one of the true food Mecca's of the world: New York City. Here, I have sampled every kind of cuisine from the holiest shrines paying homage to fine dining, to humble roadside carts and food trucks. It's truly been a gastronomic adventure, and even if I dedicated every night to a different restaurant, one lifetime would be pitifully short to cover all of them.

Yet as I savor New York's culinary delights, I have realized one fact: No matter how good the restaurant in NYC - how storied it's chef, how burnished it's legacy, or how many stars Michelin accorded or points Zagat scored it - ethnic cuisine just does not taste as good as it does in it's country of origin, and that too in far more modest settings. I have had far better sushi at a train station in Tokyo than in any sushi temple in New York boasting of fresh, imported tuna from Japan, or the crafty, innovative genius of its new chef. I have savored mouth-watering Thai cuisine in a small, nondescript mom-and-pop store in Bangkok, the kind that I have not come across in any Thai restaurant in NYC famous for it's sizzling, spicy curries. In any of the five boroughs of the city that I call home, I have yet to come across the steamed perfection of the tamales that I unwrapped in a small restaurant located in a seedy, out-of-the way section of Barranco, Lima. Indian food? Forget that! I will rarely spend hard-earned money on eating out Indian food in my adopted city - I wait for my mom to visit, or for Preety to go into a 'culinary-frame-of-mind.'

Along the way, I have realized a few things. Nothing bonds strangers more than a conversation over a hearty meal, and you may truly make a friend for life. If you happen to see an ethnic restaurant jam-packed with natives - anywhere in the world - walk right in, no question asked; you will rarely be disappointed. And the best meals often are to be found when one ventures off the beaten path, or when one is lost, only to stumble on that hidden gem that the locals keep tight-lipped about. Or perhaps it's the occasion that lends that extra zing to the meal, transforming it from good to the truly memorable. Here then, are some of the moments I cherish:

Starting the day in Munich with sausages and beer. Where else, but in Bavaria?!

Couldn't make up my mind what was more splendid in Rome. All that stunning art by Michelangelo, Da Vinci, Rafael and company? Or was it the gelato?

On a hot, romantic summer evening, after the Mezquita in Cordoba, Spain, had closed it's doors, Preety and I lingered in the warren of streets in the ancient quarter. On a whim, we entered a hole-in-the-wall tapas bar where the owner greeted us with a casual nod, as if we had been regulars forever, and then served us the best tapas we have ever had...

Stopping at a roadside cafe on the way back to the airport in Costa Rica, I happened to sink my teeth into the most delicious pork chops ever. Followed by a second serving. And a third. Memory fails me, but I think there was a fourth too. We did make the plane, just in case you were wondering...

The steaks in Buenos Aires. Ah, those steaks in Buenos Aires...

Some of you may find this sad. Others funny. Yet others will call me a pathetic soul. But I have to get this out of my system! The most awesome, juicy, melt-in-your-mouth steak sandwich I have ever tasted was...gulp!!!...on a Continental airlines flight from Mexcio city to New York. Please don't judge me too harshly...

So as they say in desi-land, "Khao, piyo, or khisko."

Life: the Ethos and Pathos of a first-generation immigrant

2010-10-25T23:58:00.000-04:00

Several readers of this blog are first-generation immigrants. Have you wondered what it means to be so? I have tried, often, usually with unsatisfactory results. It's an experience that I know is profound; sometimes, it shakes me to the very core; but just when I am about to delve into the deepest recesses of my consciousness, almost about to grasp the meaning of it all, I come up empty-handed, the whole thing elusive, like trying to hold on to a slippery, writhing fish. I get swept away with the motions of daily life until another lull brings me to ponder the question again.

On the surface, it is obvious why we all moved to lands foreign and remote, forsaking families and our lands, its cultures and traditions: a quest for a brighter future. But I think there is a deeper bond that connects us: some genetic trait, an evolutionary optimism, a tendency to embrace the unknown, a sense of adventure. Whatever it is, it propels us into a new world, overwhelms our senses, shatters our preconceived notions, disorienting and jarring our very beings - yet, more often than not, we emerge at the other end wiser, more insightful and accepting of the world in which we live.

So when I came across a passage in one of Jhumpa Lahiri's exquisite, masterfully insightful collection of short stories " The Interpreter of Maladies," I felt I had found those words that I had been forever seeking. With due apologies to Ms. Lahiri, I share with you, verbatim, the thoughts of the protagonist in the short story titled "The Third and Final Continent," that appear at its very end:

"While the astronauts, heroes forever, spent mere hours on the moon, I have remained in this new world for nearly thirty years. I know that my achievement is quite ordinary. I am not the only man to seek his fortune far from home, and certainly I am not the first. Still, there are times I am bewildered by each mile I have traveled, each meal I have eaten, each person I have known, each room in which I have slept. As ordinary as it all appears, there are times when it is beyond my imagination."

Initiative: Lessons from a Grandfather-Helping the Help

2010-10-18T21:15:00.002-04:00

At gatherings of Indians settled abroad, how often have we heard this:"Life is great yaar, but I am very busy! And the weekends are taken up by chores - laundry, cleaning, cooking, bah!!! Ah, how we lived like kings in India! We had help for everything!" It is true - labor in India is cheap and we had help for all domestic chores. The servants took care of everything we didn't want to do ourselves. The question is: How good do we do by them? My grandfather made it a point to instill in us a sense of respect for the help: he urged us to treat them as family members, to make sure that they ate what we did, to be generous with financial and moral support when needed, etc.

This lesson took a backseat once I went to the US and got busy making a career and with life in general. However, about two years ago, my grandfather's message resounded in a forceful and poignant way: my mother had hired a new maid a few months ago. She, along with her husband and two children, stayed at our house. The elder child was a girl of about 7, scrawny and scruffy, diminutive and shy, with a lovely, disarming smile. Appearances can be deceptive: this pint- sized girl was mature beyond her years, or at least she had been left with no choice but to be so. While her parents worked, Radha took on the role of 'mother', taking care of her two-year-old baby brother in every possible respect. She only got a reprieve in the evenings. And her mother was pregnant, another child, another responsibility on the way. Those glorious, laughing, carefree and playful years that every child in well-off families is assured of, had somehow escaped Radha - her childhood had been compressed, fast-forwarded, depriving her of some of the best years of one's life. Yet she displayed no anger, resentment, or sourness of temperament; instead she lovingly cared for her sibling and happily took everything in her stride. I was touched, and felt sad for her when I realized that she had not yet started an education.

After much prodding and cajoling, I prompted my mother and our maid to initiate a home tutor for Radha. She immediately displayed a voracious appetite for learning, with intelligence and aptitude to match. She enjoyed her tutoring lessons as much as she did taking care of her brother, and yearned for them. Her education gradually progressed. A few months ago when I returned home for a visit, something remarkable happened: Radha approached me hesitantly, shyly, a well-thumbed notebook in hand; she asked me if she could show me what she had learnt and I happily said yes; she showed me the pages filled with her somewhat scrawling handwriting, in the Hindi and English alphabet; she read out sentences and numbers to me. The happiness and pride on her face was radiant. It was a beautiful moment.

Radha and her brother both go to a proper school now. I wonder to myself: What will happen when their mother moves on from our employment? Will these children pursue a higher education? Or will they instead, be lost in that deluge of humanity and poverty so widespread in our country? Another bright, potential life wasted? Did my responsibility to these children last only as long as their mother worked around our house, helping my parents? That idea seemed very selfish and narrow-minded, one that my grandfather would never approve of. So I promised myself that I will pay for their educational expenses and push them towards a higher education, to encourage and support them in whatever they wanted to achieve, irrespective of whether they remained at our house or not.

If this message resonates with you, perhaps you will apply this back home or share it with a friend or neighbor. We owe a huge debt to these unsung heroes and their families who make our lives so comfortable...

Travel: Spanish Moss and the beautiful city of Savannah, GA

2010-10-11T19:53:00.003-04:00

(Click on picture above to see complete set)

Have you ever had that feeling? You know, when someone echoes your sentiments in such an uncannily familiar way that it almost sends shivers up your spine? You wonder whether it is mere coincidence or if there is some greater purpose behind it all?

Something similar happened to me recently. A few months ago I visited the magnificent city of Savannah, Georgia. I never thought I would ever say this, but I am, and so here it is: The most beautiful and captivating city I have ever seen in all my travels to date is right here, in America! There were several distinguishing attributes to this alluring city: gorgeous mansions and townhouses in the historic district, lining stately avenues shaded by old, majestic oak trees; serene and open squares that punctuated the layout of the old town; a lively waterfront along the Savannah river; a city soaked in American history and tradition; tantalizing and comforting delicious southern cuisine, and a warm and friendly vibe.

There was one remarkable presence, however, that left an indelible impression on my senses: it was the intriguing Spanish moss hanging from the oak trees, creating an enchanting, mysterious effect. It invoked different moods at different times of the day and depending on one's state of mind: on a moonlit night, it appeared surreal and haunting, and I felt that all those ghosts of the American civil war would slither out at any moment from their murky shadows, demanding an audience for the grave injustices meted out to them; strolling past the beautiful houses on hot, summer evenings, the air sweet and fragrant, jazz music wafting through the dusk, the din and clamor of revelers muffled by the oaks, is perhaps as romantic a setting as it can get; during the day, the moss dripping from the trees lent an aura of dignity and mystique to the environs. And at all times, it is hard to ignore the ubiquitous Spanish moss: it demanded my attention and I happily paid homage, looking on fascinated, not for a moment tiring of this spectacle.

A few weeks ago, when I came across an article in the travel section of the New York Times about Spanish moss, with the author writing from Savannah ('A sucker for Spanish moss'), it brought back memories of the trip in a deluge of nostalgia and delight. It was as if the author had somehow delved into my subconscious mind and jotted down every thought and emotion that passed by. Was this some sort of message? To relive my trip? To share my memories with family, friends and my readers? Or perhaps something of greater import, unbeknownst to me for now, and perhaps forever? But how did it matter? I was just happy at this synchronicity of ideas!

So, dear Savannah, here is my humble ode to you in words too meager to do justice to your many charms. However, as a testament to your ageless, timeless beauty, I remember nothing of that blistering heat-wave that engulfed you during my visit, and instead, all that comes to mind are visions of your sublime, ethereal beauty. All it took was Spanish moss and an article in the New York Times...

Travel: the Fall colors of New Hampshire

2010-10-05T08:04:00.001-04:00

(To see complete picture-set, click on photograph above)

We inhaled the invigorating air blowing against our faces, crisp and mountain-fresh, every turn on the meandering, hilly road offering a spectacular vista, a magnificent explosion of autumn colors unfolding before our eyes, as we drove along the scenic Kancamangus Highway through the White Mountains Forest, New Hampshire. Preety and I, along with two dear friends from California, had joined other 'leaf-peepers' in marveling at Mother Nature's dramatic change of color with the onset of autumn.

The fall foliage was at it's peak: yellows, reds, oranges, purples, and then imagine every shade and hue in-between. The vivid blue, sunny cloudless sky, the pristine river flowing to our right, and the greener colors of the trees in the distant background all combined to create a magnificent contrast and tapestry of colors. As the sunlight danced and flitted through the the leaves and tree branches, it created a shimmering resplendent glow, as if each leaf was coated with a patina of its respective color, creating a surreal, enchanting effect. This is one of nature's truly astounding spectacles: the transformation of the foliage from green to fall colors almost appeared to be one final, defiant and flourishing act of Mother Nature before winter's bleakness, like a tenor who sings an inspired and soulful aria before vocal-cord surgery clamps him down for a few months.

However the most memorable moments happened when we shook off the crowds and got lost in the back-country roads. Driving through quintessentially bucolic and pastoral New England villages that were impossibly beautiful, all stress seemed to dissipate away. Serendipity took over and we exulted in each moment we found ourselves: a quaint shop in a small village selling delicious, locally made cheeses; a fantastic spot at a point where a river took a bend and the scenery was just gorgeous and we disembarked for an impromptu picnic; a 'find' of a an exquisitely preserved, covered wooden-bridge, below which raged frothing whitewater.

Everything about this trip was just right: the company, the lodging and food, the driving, the weather - all perfectly complimented the sublime scenery. A simple and inexpensive two-day trip turned out to be one of our most unforgettable and relaxing vacations. All you need is the correct ingredients and to allow them to marinade long enough...

Initiative: Walking improves cognition, delays onset of dementia

2010-09-27T12:59:00.004-04:00

We are all familiar with the physical benefits of exercise. It's an entirely different matter of course, that we spend far more time exercising our thumbs on our smartphones (your smartphone, only as smart as you are?), while giving only lip-service to any meaningful form of exercise. To make matters more interesting and compelling, there is a growing body of literature that suggests that exercise is good for our mental well-being as well.

Happily car-free for almost seven-years now and used to walking throughout New York City, I was intrigued by a recent study that got a lot of press. Published in the journal 'Frontiers in Aging Neuroscience' (read here), it demonstrated that a one-year regimen of a walking program in sedentary elders (age 55-80 years) significantly improved the connections between certain parts of the brain that are critical to high-level mental functioning, and which are crucial to the cognitive decay associated with aging. It seems that with aging, 'circuits' interlinking these important regions are lost. Exercise stimulates a re-establishment of these vital connections.

Most importantly, this increased connectivity between the brain regions was associated with an improvement in memory and executive functioning i.e., the ability to perform complex tasks involving planning and decision making, task switching, dealing with unplanned situations and avoiding harmful circumstances. What was quite impressive was that, when seen on functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI), the brain activity of these elderly subjects in those important areas became similar to that of healthy young adults aged 18-35 years!

I remember a time when I would drive into the city in my Honda Civic to meet Preety; not used to walking, dependent on my car for every little chore, I would groan, moan and protest as she would insist on walking everywhere, my legs threatening an indefinite 'bandh' any moment. I would eye those ubiquitous NYC yellow-cabs with a delirium akin to that of a parched and vanquished traveler who chances upon an oasis in the desert. However, once I settled down in the city, I happily relinquished my automobile and have fully embraced the joys of peregrination.

This study, along with other research that show that exercise can delay the onset of cognitive impairment and frank Alzheimer's dementia, and the ability of the brain to sprout neurons in response to exercise in animal models, is reason enough for all of us to get off the couch. If we risk degrading both our minds and bodies by not exercising, what does that leave us with? the soul? Who knows what science will prove next?!

So, go on, take a walk...

Life: My lament on the imminent demise of newspapers

2010-09-20T22:03:00.002-04:00

Some of my happiest memories are linked to newspapers. Growing up, I remember starting the day rocking on the swing in our lawn, having tea and Parle G cookies, Kishore Kumar crooning in the background, and a copy of the Chandigarh Tribune spread out before me . Now, in New York City, rising early on a Sunday morning while the rest of the world sleeps-in, to devour the Sunday New York Times with a cup of Starbucks coffee is one of the most cherished and anticipated routines of my week. You will never find me in the subway or standing in a line (a New York City tradition!) without a newspaper in hand. When I travel, reading the local papers allows me to get a pulse of the prevailing social, political and cultural milieu.

And so it's with a lot of angst and sadness that I see the struggling state of newspapers. Venerable ones, like the New York Times, Chicago Tribune and the L.A. Times are in a battle of survival. And nothing on the horizon suggests that the situation will improve. There are, of course, several reasons for their dwindling circulation. If television and the 24-hr news cycle were the harbingers of bad times, then the internet surely has been the death knell of many a daily (especially when it comes to leeching away ad money; newspapers, after all, do not survive off daily sales or subscriptions, but on advertisements). The current generation has not imbibed the habit of reading one; indeed, a significant proportion of youngsters have never even bothered to picked up a news daily. Why would they even? It's a multitasking, attention-scattered, technology-lusting generation. The smart phones, the i-pad, the amazon Kindle - this is how people connect and learn about the world around them today. Alas, the newspaper seems like an anachronism in this day and age.

Despite all this, at least for me, nothing can replace the allure and texture of a newspaper in my hands, the crinkling of the pages as I turn them over, that distinctive smell of paper fresh off the printing press. The articles in a paper are more thoroughly researched, nuanced and credible; who can vouch for the authenticity and source of the myriad news channels mushrooming on the net? Having too many options, in fact, distracts me, not allowing me to sink my teeth into one good story. Yet there is hope; the one region in the world where newspaper circulation is on the rise is in Asia, and in particular India. As a matter of fact, India has the largest number of paid-for dailies in the world, ahead of the USA and China. As economic growth surges in the economies of Asia, Latin America and Africa - regions where internet penetration may not be as universal and where in spite of technology, newspapers remain vital ingredients of daily life- newspapers are nicely poised to further grow.

Yet when I have children of my own, I wonder if I will be able to put a newspaper in their hands. As we observed in a close friend's son, his first exposure to any form of media - at the tender age of a few months - was an i-phone. There was no paper involved; instead, with his tiny, baby fingers, he flicked on the touch-screen of the phone from one screen to the next. The current generation is now accustomed to technological leaps and milestones occurring not at intervals of decades as before, but at the mind-boggling rate of months and sometimes even weeks! It will be a difficult task, yes, but a worthy one. A true labor of love.

Life: The things that make you go: Hmmm!

2010-09-14T23:06:00.001-04:00

(Click on picture above to see complete picture-set)

A few weeks ago, after an exhilarating run under a sun-drenched, hot summer afternoon in the East River park, as I made my way back home I noticed something that caused me great pleasure for the next several minutes. Hmmm, I murmured to myself.

There is metal grill barrier that runs along the western edge of the park, separating it from the FDR drive, where cars zipped by in a blur. In the center of the grill, at regular intervals, breaking the monotony of the vertical lines, were motifs placed within a circle. They were in different shapes - seahorse, windmill, crab, fish, eagle, leaf. It was obvious that a good deal of thought and skill had gone into designing these patterns. I was fascinated and found myself craning my neck forward to see what the next motif would be. I spent the rest of the afternoon happily occupied in this activity.

I thought : this metal barrier had always been there in plain view. I had been to this park countless times before, yet I had been oblivious to its existence. It seemed so ordinary, functional, matter-of-fact. But that afternoon, whatever concoction of endorphins had been swirling in my brain after that strenuous run conspired to create a magical effect. Now that I am aware of it's existence, I have continued to enjoy it on further runs, in memories of that afternoon, while shaping this blog entry, and when I went to take pictures of the motifs. One simple 'discovery' with such delightful consequences!

I mused as to what had prevented me from noticing before? Perhaps it was my tendency to get easily bored and distracted. I am always looking over the horizon, around the corner, for the next big thing or adventure - that next source of excitement. But yet all around are things that are free, simple and potentially a great source of joy. If only I noticed! I am all for mankind's innate restlessness and urge to stretch the frontiers of our limits and capabilities. But as obvious and accessible as our surroundings are, I guess we still have to train ourselves to 'look' around once in a while and appreciate the beauty and joy in the simple things of life.

So look around. Is there anything that makes you go: Hmmm?!

Travel: Peru, favorite moments - photograph slideshow

2010-09-09T07:45:00.002-04:00

Travel: Peru, my favorite moments...

2010-09-07T11:04:00.002-04:00

(Click on the picture above to see complete set)

I thought to myself: What could I possibly write about Macchu Picchu or Peru in general, that had not already been written about more eloquently or in greater detail? Nothing. So I will just share with you some of my favorite moments of Peru with an accompanying picture set.

1. Astounding geography: this relatively small country of 27 million people has amazing geographical variation, from the desert coast along the Pacific, to the Andes mountain range in the center, and the Amazon basin on the east. All of this comes with a wide variation in climate as well. You can access most of these regions on short, one- to two-hour flights from the capital, Lima. If you are a nature buff, paradise beckons.

2. Macchu Picchu, of course. It's always been a magnet for tourists, and now perhaps more so after being designated as one of the modern 'Wonders of the World.' Come for the pristinely preserved site, but for me an even greater draw was the absolutely magnificent location where Macchu Picchu is located. Perched at almost 3000 meters, the vistas are dazzling and I certainly cannot express them in words.

3. Mouth-watering cuisine. Ceviches, tamales, cuy (guinea pig), succulent meats, fresh fruits, pisco sour (the national drink) and tasty desserts will ensure that each night you go to bed contented and raring to go the next day.

4. Cusco, the historic capital of the Incas, is a necessary stop before proceeding to Macchu Picchu. While you struggle to acclimatize at an altitude of 3400 meters, your time will be pleasantly occupied by this vibrant city, exploring the Inca ruins in the city as well as in the surrounding Sacred Valley. A lively city-center, excellent cuisine and great shopping just add to the excitement.

5. Lima, the capital city. Once relegated to an overnight stop before proceeding inland, Lima is now an interesting and pulsating city where one can easily spend a couple of days and still yearn for more. Explore the beautiful neighborhoods of Miraflores, San Isidro, Barrancho, and El Centro. Walk along the Pacific ocean during a romantic sunset. Savor world-class cuisine that is ethnic yet contemporary and imaginative. This city clearly seems to be regaining its mojo. And my take is this: 'How can a city of 9 million people ever be boring?'

6. A stay in the Amazon rain-forest will rejuvenate the most jaded of city-dwellers. The sheer variety and complexity of the flora and fauna will leave you with a new appreciation for life.

7. And finally, my Peruvian experience would not be half as enjoyable had it not been for the extremely helpful and friendly people. No matter where I went, I felt welcome and as if amongst friends.

Keep traveling...

On the road, Travel : A delightful coincidence in Cusco, Peru

2010-08-30T21:06:00.002-04:00

(Fountain in Forsyth Park,Savannah; for a picture of the fountain in Cusco, click here)

7.15 pm, August 30; writing from Machu Picchu, Peru

Just a couple of months ago I was in the historic and beautiful city of Savannah, in the state of Georgia. Among the many attractions was a beautiful cast iron fountain that I came across in historic Forsyth Park. So I was pleasantly surprised, when during my current trip to Peru I came across an exact replica of the fountain in the UNESCO world-heritage designated city of Cusco - it happens to be located smack in the centre of town’s principal square, the Plaza de Armas.

The fountain in Savannah was constructed in 1858 based on a similar design in Paris. For reasons unclear to me, an exact replica later appeared in Cusco. Because of this strange but lovely coincidence, these two cities are indelibly linked in my mind. On first glance, these two cities could not be more dissimilar: one dates back to 1733, the other is almost nine-centuries old and was the capital of the Inca Empire. They are located on different continents, one at sea-level and the other perched at a gasp-inducing, oxygen-depriving altitude of more than 3000 meters. They have very distinct cultures, traditions, and ethnography. Yet in my mind, there is something compellingly similar about these two cities: both are richly steeped in history, each having a seminal place in the annals of their respective nations´ evolution; both have gorgeous and evocative historic city-centres; each has a vibrant local tradition and superb regional cuisine; and either city is known for it’s friendly vibe and warm hospitality.

However, the appearance of the fountain located in Cusco caused me some sorrow. It appeared to be in a state of neglect and decrepitude (the one in Savannah is magnificent), whereas all around this beautiful square the buildings were lovingly restored and cared for. Could anyone blame the city for this? Surrounded by titans - both in terms of architectural virtuosity and historical pedigree – our fountain was but a neophyte, a charlatan trying to pass off as the real-deal, using the giants around it as a scaffold. It had been barely privy to those momentous events of history that the other members of this square had had a front-row seat to. Clearly, here was a case of an inferiority complex.

Still, as I said, from now on, I could not think of one city without recalling the other. Among the many joys of travel, this is one: the collusion of serendipity and coincidence to present the most unexpected of things, notwithstanding how banal they might appear at first. It prods us to recalibrate our senses and contemplate events in a way that we might not have ordinarily done.

Bon voyage!

Initiative: who wants to be an Airbender! be a Stairclimber, instead

2010-08-22T21:09:00.001-04:00

You know, it's a pet peeve of mine, when I see young or able-bodied people opting to take the elevator to ascend a couple of floors, when right around the corner a flight of stairs lovingly beckons. There are several reasons why I am a strong advocate for taking the stairs.

First and foremost: it's healthy. Why pass it up? These climbs are short bursts of intense, aerobic exercise that keep me refreshed and on my toes all day. Then there is the issue of inconveniencing others, either by slowing down the elevators, or preventing those who really need the elevator (such as ill or disabled people, children and pregnant women, elderly folks) from getting access in a timely manner. And I do feel I am doing my 'green' bit by using the power of human locomotion rather than electricity.

Yet we shirk from taking the stairs. Why? It's basic human tendency; if a shortcut or an easier option is available, why not avail it? But it's just a matter of putting your mind to it and forming a habit. I have been doing this for about four years now, with mostly salubrious results. I feel I have more stamina and energy during my work-day; I also notice increased strength in my legs, thighs and lower torso; and generally I feel I complete my tasks faster and more efficiently. I also minimize the odds of being trapped in that most terrifying and suffocating of ordeals: a stuck elevator. It's now instinctual for me to bypass the elevators and head straight for the stairwell. My office is on the 6th floor and I do several roundtrips between the first floor and my office - and indeed all over the hospital - during the course of the day. The only time I give myself a reprieve or a rare 'treat' by taking the elevators is when I have worked an overnight shift or I am absolutely exhausted.

But wait! Before you take on the stairs, there are certain guidelines and etiquettes that will make you a wiser and stronger Stairclimber:

1. First and foremost, make sure the stairs at your workplace are user-friendly. By that I mean that the stairwell should be well-lit and the steps wide and broad. The whole endeavor is not worth it if you are constantly at peril of falling and injuring yourself.

2. Generally, I don't recommend running up or down the stairs. I do, however, suggest that you take two steps at a time going up.

3. Slow down if you approach someone ahead of you who is not as fast as you.

4. Acknowledge and greet other kindred souls you encounter on this noble pursuit.

5. If you notice you develop pain in our knees, hips or feet that is exacerbated by this activity, stop. Take a break and resume at a slower pace, or if the problem persists or worsens, seek medical attention.

So the next time you are waiting for the elevators, think again, and then head for the stairs instead.

Travel: What I learnt about countries in their embassies

2010-08-16T20:59:00.005-04:00

Disclosure: this blog is written by an Indian passport holder

Call it my luck or misfortune, but when it comes to obtaining a tourist visa for a country, I don't have much of a choice. You see, I live in New York City, where every country (more or less) has a consular office. And so I am forced to present my person, application in hand, supplicant and anxious to avoid a rejection. I have done this routine so many times now that I now consider it a ritual, a homage to the Gods ( i.e., the visa officer!) in order to obtain blessings for the journey ahead.

To my surprise, these brief visits to embassies and consulates have, in retrospect, offered me a glimpse and snapshot of what to expect when I arrive in the country itself. My visit to the German consulate earlier this year was perhaps most illustrative (and briefest). All the classic German traits - efficiency, punctuality, meticulous planning (and yes, a lack of humor!) - were apparent in full force; for the 9.00 a.m. appointment I was ushered in not a minute earlier, and with minimal fuss and conversation I was out by 9.15 a.m.

In stark contrast, when I went for a visa to the Italian consulate a few years ago, there were no visa appointments. First come, first serve it was - that in NYC invariably means standing in line. I twiddled my thumbs for three agonizing hours before my turn arrived; the waiting area was dingy, the process clumsy and confusing with a general lack of customer service. To this day I am flabbergasted by the fact that Italy has a national airline that is bankrupt, and airports that are fairly pedestrian and unsophisticated - this in a country with one of the highest number of tourists annually and bounteously bestowed with marvelous geography, climate and cuisine.

Perhaps one of the more nerve-wracking experiences happened, ironically enough, at the so-called 'Friendship Bridge' - spanning the Mekong river - that is situated on the Thai-Laos border. The stern military official at the counter slowly and deliberately thumbed through my passport while eyeing me disdainfully; he gruffly tossed back the dollar bills that I had shuffled across for the visa fee, demanding unsoiled, crisp greenbacks instead. By the end I felt I had been through a military inquisition! Contrast this to tourist-worshipping and super-friendly Thailand where I had arrived just a few days earlier; as an Indian passport holder I was eligible for a visa on arrival (a rare treat for me!), and it didn't matter what time of day or night I arrived at Suvarnabhumi airport in Bangkok: there would be visa officer at the airport to process my application and welcome me to the country.

And when I was in the Peruvian consulate a few days ago to get my visa for my upcoming trip later this month, I felt I had entered a fish-market. There were no lines to speak of, people were milling around the interview counters, and there were no signs or instructions in English in sight (while it may be true that Hispanics will very soon take over the US, this has not happened just yet!). On top of that, sweet old ladies kept approaching me and asking questions in Spanish, and all I could do in response was to smile haplessly. But the people were amazingly friendly, I give them that. So, when I arrive at Peru I should expect a good amount of chaos, communication issues, being taken for a Spanish-fluent hombre, and lot's of friendliness!

And finally, what about our former masters, the good old Brits? Though friendly and courteous, they just cannot help (I am sure it is inadvertent) some of that colonialist mentality seeping through. By now, however, I know very well how to deal with that - I give them the stiff upper lip!

Does anyone have any similar experiences or anecdotes to share?

Travel: the Bicycles of New York City

2010-08-08T18:28:00.004-04:00

the Bicycles of New York City

(Click above to see picture-set)

Notwithstanding Mayor Bloomberg and New York City officials' vehement assertions that NYC is one of the most bicycle-friendly cities in the USA, I continue to remain somewhat of a skeptic. Admittedly, there is healthy increase in the number of dedicated bike paths and I can see a stronger cycling culture sprouting. Yet, in a country with an insatiable lust for automobiles, bicycles are a distant alternate choice as a means of transport, be it related to recreation or getting to work. (Unlike many European countries where cycling is part of the civic DNA and cities and towns are 'wired' for biking.) Sadly, to mirror this fact, Lance Armstrong is less well known amongst most Americans for his remarkable achievement of winning seven consecutive Tour-de-France championships than he is for the doping scandals he remains embroiled in.

Biking in NYC is a constant challenge. The most pleasurable (and safest) places to bike in the city remain Central Park and Riverside Park, which are, well, parks, and not part of the regular commuter grid. Unless you live close by to these parks, they can take some time and effort to get to. Sharing the road with maniacal NYC drivers, even on streets and avenues with marked biking lanes, is literally a hit-or-miss affair. Each time I go up 1st avenue and make a left on 63rd street to reach Central Park, and on my way back down 2nd avenue to 23rd street, I pedal with my heart in my mouth; NYC drivers have scant respect for bicyclists and I fear that any moment I shall be nudged or hurtled to a violent crash. Sprinkled at several spots in the city, white-painted and garlanded bikes - chained to a parking sign or lamppost - serve as a memorial to some unfortunate cyclist killed at that very spot in an accident, and are a chilling and disquieting reminder. It also pains me that some of the biggest perpetrators of aggressive driving towards bikers are NYC yellow-cab drivers, many of whom are from the Indian subcontinent. In addition, in a city where every additional square-foot is prime real-estate, bike storage can be a challenge requiring innovative solutions that any NASA engineer would be proud of! And let's not even talk about bike theft, that in NYC has been elevated to high science (or art, depending on your point of view).

So who is bicycling around in NYC anyway? Well, there are the usual suspects: food-delivery guys (invariably bringing in Chinese food, Indian food or pizza);the parcel-and-package delivery cowboys, who race around town with a cavalier, reckless attitude, treating Manhattan as their own little version of the Wild West; increasing numbers of university and college students; and recreationists and tourists (the latter in very specific areas). I have also noticed the positive trend of a greater number of people biking to work. An increasing number of bike-rental and tour agencies as well bike stores are also opening shop in the city.

In a city as kinetic as New York City, and for an activity as animated as biking, I often find that it is stationary bicycles that have a special allure. Whenever I see a bike parked on the NYC sidewalks or by a store or in the park or by the river promenade, I stop in my tracks and wonder: how did this bike get here? Who is the owner? What kind of person is he or she? How long have they owned this bike? How much did it cost? New or second-hand? Perhaps a stolen and resold bicycle? Where is this bike stored? What is the owner's profession? Bum or hedge-fund executive?I almost feels that every bicycle has it's story to tell. I am tempted to take a picture or two, and in the photo-set and slide show with this blog, I have tried to capture some of those moods and thoughts.

Despite the perils and demands of being a bicyclist in NYC, I love to ride my bike and I wish I could ride it even more. It reminds me of fun-filled and carefree childhood days; from the vantage point of a bicycle seat the world also appears a little different than it does from inside a car or a bus or even when walking; and of course no one can deny it's a very healthy habit, both for yourself and Mother Earth.

Why don't you grab a bike too?

Life: Got Junk? What are you holding on to it for?

2010-08-01T16:20:00.001-04:00

How many of us, amidst the maddening process of a move, have been been astonished and aghast at the amount of stuff we have accumulated? More so, when it dawns on us not only how quickly we gathered it all, but also how useless and impractical most of it is. The simple question then begets us: Why? What prevents us from regularly discarding all our material acquisitions that have long ceased to be of any use to us? Perhaps we should have never bought them in the first place. But that is an entirely different conversation.

Maybe it's our adult, modern-day version of separation- anxiety, that desire to cling on to material goods we were able to afford, resulting from the fruits of our toils and sweat. Periodically, these artifacts resurface; we peer at them quizzically and scratch our heads, wondering what in the world prompted us to acquire them in the first place; we instantly realize that this item is of no further use to us, nor will it ever be; and yet we hoard again, vanquishing them back to some remote, obscure corner of our abodes and indeed, our memories too, rationalizing that perhaps this item will be of some import in the future. And so the cycle continues and this is how we emerge as accumulators that could rival any chipmunk!

All this gathering has harmful and unintended consequences; personally, I feel that unwanted stuff creates clutter and disorganization in my life and makes me a less productive individual. I could think of several useful ways to dispense with them: recycling, donating to a charity, or reselling. Just get rid of it! There are few things as emotionally and spiritually cleansing as going through one's apartment and getting rid of junk. I think of it as dissipating negative energy. Minimalism is soothing and relaxing. After such shedding rampages, I have usually felt uncluttered, fresh and rejuvenated, happy and peaceful. It's as if someone has removed a huge burden off my head. I don't need all this unnecessary baggage; as it is, life can be quite complicated and muddled.

What will you be throwing out this weekend?

On the road: Summer by the water

2010-07-25T20:22:00.010-04:00

On the road: Summer by the water

Summer by the beach

Written at 7.23 a.m., July 25,2010, from Savannah, GA

It's been a blazing hot summer, one of the hottest I have experienced since I moved to the United States a decade ago. In fact, it does remind me of India. All in all I love it! In this scorching heat, it is but natural to escape to the beach, where there are several ways to pleasurably occupy one's time. These are some of my favorites pastimes by the water (click on picture above to see complete picture set).

Enjoying a chilled beer!

Going to bed to the sweet lullaby of the waves crashing against the beach.

Early morning walks on the beach when the solitude and gentle, salt-tinged breeze reminds me how lucky I am to be alive.

Checking out the lifeguards...

Observing the ocean expanse and the arcing horizon spread out before me, contemplating the greater meaning of life.

Following prints in the sand. Who knows where they lead to?

Being mesmerized while observing the hypnotic rhythm of fishermen boats idly bobbing in the sea.

Sea shells on the sea shore. Heard that one before?

Feeling the comforting, warm texture of sand in between my toes.

Savoring fresh, off-the-boat seafood in quaint and quirky beach towns.

Gazing at evocative, historical lighthouses that whisper legends of maritime intrigue and romance.

And of course, endless frolicking in the water!

So what will you be doing by the water this summer?

Travel: My room with a view

2010-07-18T19:18:00.020-04:00

My room with a view pictures

Every morning I wake up and each night I go to bed to a singular view from my bedroom window: the Empire State Building. Over time I have almost come to regard the building as a friend, one with different moods and messages (for the complete picture set click on the link below the pictures).

In the morning this hulking giant may appear to be in a dour mood, or lazily awakening to the madness of the Manhattan rush hour, or recovering from a hangover after a night of revelry and debauchery. On bright and sunny days when the light bounces of its facade, it appears to be peering down in an avuncular and genial fashion, appraising the grid of Manhattan laid out around its feet. And this monument saves its best for the night when it is decked out in different colors and hues that keep changing regularly as if it possesses an inexhaustible wardrobe. It reminds me of a beautiful woman attired in a resplendent and gorgeous sari who is out for a night of serious partying. The flashing lights from the cameras on the eighty-sixth floor observatory could very well be glittering beads attached to the sari or a diamond necklace around its svelte neck.

On rainy overcast days the the building disappears and reappears in the swirling pregnant clouds that drift around its summit. It lends the building the mystical appearance of a monastery perilously perched high up in the mountains, shrouded in clouds and mist, enchanting and elusive. And on cold wintry days granite, glass and steel combine to impart a forbidding and gloomy aura.

And perhaps, best of all, the Empire (as I now call my friend) is my personal reminder of significant events around the world. I am reminded of India's Independence Day on August 15 when the building is lighted in the tricolor of the Indian flag; when Spain finally shed the tag of perennial underachievers to win the soccer world cup the Empire obliged by adorning red-yellow-red colors representing the Spanish flag; on St. Patrick's day the Empire gleefully changes into a vivid, goblin-like green.

And so our friendship grows and continues and I look to forward to many more wonderful moments. It adds to my sense and identity of where I live and enriches my life. The Empire gives me a reason to look forward to something different each day and night.

What do you see from your window?