On living a more thoughtful life

On living a more thoughtful life

I have been interested in a sustainable, cruelty-free lifestyle long enough for me to be convinced that it is more than a passing fad. What started as idle curiosity turned rapidly into horror when I came across articles/initiatives that exposed the atrocities that go on silently around us. One was a Yourstory expose on the nightmarish practices of the dairy farming in India. The other was the Freagle project that focuses on rescuing and rehabilitating beagles extensively used in laboratory testing and then euthanized.

Both of these were happening right here, in India. Not somewhere halfway around the world like the sweatshops of China or Bangladesh or the refugees in the middle-east. I think that, to me, was what whipped the rose-coloured glasses right off my face.

Experiments with veganism

My first reaction was to have an impassioned outburst on Facebook and decide to turn vegan by the end of this year. I even joined a couple of vegan groups, talked to vegans, and started researching vegan alternatives to dairy. Since I was an eggetarian to begin with, I thought this would be easy.

It wasn’t.

We stopped consuming all “non-essential” dairy products right away; non-essential to us meant all the products we could live without. This list included butter, ghee, cheese, paneer, khoya, and – we thought – milk. We stopped getting our usual packet of Nandini milk at once and tried to switch to green tea. However, even after a month, our caffeine cravings did not go away. We started cheating by having “just one coffee” at cafes or in the office cafeteria. Vegan alternatives to milk that were available locally or online were made of soy, peanuts, or almonds, but they were far too expensive for us to try on a regular basis. In our hearts, we knew this was not a change we could hold onto.

But waking up to a milk-free, and therefore, coffee-less morning every day ensured that I was constantly reading more on the subject. The more I read, the more I realized that my problem was not fundamentally with consuming animal products or eating meat. Feeling sorry for eating an animal is the adult version of feeling sorry for the deer that’s pounced upon by the cheetah. But what about the cheetah? Nature designed it as a carnivore and this is its only way of sustenance. It’s how the food chain works.

So what really was disturbing me? I asked myself – if I had a cow in my backyard who I looked after lovingly every day, would it bother me to take her milk, whatever is left over after her calf feeds? The answer was no. Would it bother me if the cow belonged to someone else, who treated her right, took care of her, and did not use her as a milk machine? The answer, again, was no.

That is when I realized that the mass-production of dairy, meat, and other animal products and the evil machinery that such industries run on was what was really disturbing me. This was a turning point in my journey.

In pursuit of a cruelty-free life

My focus turned then to what constitutes cruelty and the definition that made most sense was this: preventing an animal from leading a life that is not as close as possible to what nature intended is cruelty. The deer, up until the moment the cheetah springs on her, has led a normal life in her natural habitat. A cow grazing freely on grass and nursing her young is leading a normal domesticated life, even if she is being milked.

I do not think that the entire world turning vegetarian is a sustainable – or even a necessary – option. (Here is why). Free range farming and quick, painless slaughtering seem to me perfectly acceptable solutions. The problem today is the shocking increase in the careless and cruel mass-production of meat because of increasing consumption.

When I was in school, my non-vegetarian friends used to bring fish or meat for lunch once or twice a week – it was a special treat, a little luxury, and of course, an extra dose of protein. In fact, I remember just one classmate, the son of a very famous and successful cardiologist, bringing chicken fry and parottas for lunch every day, rousing amazement and envy in the others. Fast-forward to today, when meat consumption has become extremely high in India (the trends are less easy to spot in the West). I have deliberately referred to a 2013 article here so as to avoid any bias emanating from the recent ‘beef ban’ crisis.

Cruelty-free farming practices is a novel concept for most of the world, with only Australia, New Zealand, and UK having made any kind of progress on this front. I found Compassion In World Farming to be a very enlightening and balanced source of information and action on the subject. This is an organization that was founded in 1967 by Peter and Anna Roberts, British farmers who became disturbed by the increasing disconnect between modern farming practices and the well-being of farm animals. According to their website, this is their goal:

By working in partnership with inspirational supporters, progressive policy makers and visionary companies, we are mobilising a movement for far reaching change in our farming that can feed the world and will improve the quality of life for billions of farm animals worldwide.

It is one that I agree with and one which has spurred me to choose free range, cruelty-free products in my everyday life.

From cosmetics to household cleaning products, cruelty is built into practically every lifestyle product we use today. While I have not managed to replace all of these,  I am constantly researching alternatives. Here is a list I have compiled and which I will keep adding to as I experiment with and review products.

Milk – we have switched to buying Europaea free range, grass fed farm milk, available online on Amazon and Bigbasket, and offline at Foodhall, VR Mall. We also like the fact that it is associated with the sustainability farming program Origin Green and takes measures towards sustainable farming practices. As this is a product imported from Ireland, it costs Rs.115/litre as opposed to about Rs.40/litre for Nandini.

Some more alternatives that seem to be available in Bangalore and which I am planning to explore include:

  • Vrindavan milk – I like their principle of ahimsa milk. According to their FAQs section,

Our cows are treated with love and care. We don’t stress them to produce more milk. We also maintain our cows even after their milking years are over to avoid cow slaughtering.

  • Indus milk – They again mention that their desi zebu cows are free-grazing and the calves are allowed to feed first before milking happens.
  • The Right Moo – Free-range cows, although foreign breeds, and fed on organic grass.

Cosmetics – Apart from a few expensive niche brands, most cosmetics brands available in India have parent companies that test on animals somewhere in the world. Don’t be fooled by their corporate websites that say they are “against animal testing” or “we do not test our products on animals”. This could mean – as it does in heart-breakingly large number of cases – that they buy animal test reports from other agencies (essentially outsourcing this bit) or test the individual ingredients (not the ‘products’) on animals.

Look for the leaping bunny logo on the products or an explicit disclaimer that they do not test on animals on the product label before you buy. Brands I rely on are:

  • Lotus herbals
  • Biotique
  • Cholayil pharmaceuticals (Medimix and Cuticura are their most famous brands)
  • Himalaya
  • Vicco (I swear by their toothpaste – I’ve been using it for years!)
  • Plum Goodness (I’ve been using their day/night creams for over a year and they are fantastic. Not only cruelty-free, but also free of SLEs, parabens, and the like).
  • Arvind Laboratories (good old Eyetex and Dazzler, which have been around for years. I wrote to their corporate office and they have written back confirming that neither their products nor the ingredients are tested on animals.)
  • A2Naturals.in has a whole host of home and personal care products that are not mass-produced, cruelty-free, but not vegan.

Floor cleaner: We switched to Gou Ganga about a year ago and have never looked at any other cleaner since. The product has a mild fragrance and cleans our balcony (where our dogs pee, let me add) like a breeze.

Washing powder  – I have switched to natural soap nuts for my washing machine instead of using detergents that not only maybe tested on animals but which are also harmful to the environment. I was initially skeptical about whether these would get rid of the used smell on the clothes and boy, they have worked wonders! Highly recommended as they are also very, very cheap.

For those who prefer powders, here are some alternatives I found (not tried):

Both these websites also have a wide range of personal, pet, and garden care products that are chemicals-free, sustainable, and cruelty-free. Please research each before buying as I have not tried out all of them. For a list of brands that DO test on animals, see here.

A vision for 2017

The more obvious choices were made easily – SR exchanged his leather wallet for this cool, washable, durable canvas one from Wildcraft. But there are so many more changes to be made, from dish wash soap to cleaning liquids and I hope that by the end of this year, we will be able to reduce our cruelty footprint to nothing.

Have you thought about these issues? I’d love to know – do comment below. 🙂

 

 

അവശേഷം

അവശേഷം

രാത്രി മുഴുവൻ മഴ പെയ്തു. അത് കേട്ട് ഞാൻ ഉറങ്ങാതെ കിടന്നു. ജനവാതിലിലൂടെ ചന്ദ്രനെ കാണാം. ഒരു നിഴൽചിത്രം പോലെ മുറ്റത്തു നിന്ന മരത്തിന്റെ രൂപവും. അതിന്റെ ഇലകൾ കാറ്റിലാടി. അവയ്ക്കിടയിലൂടെ മഴത്തുള്ളികൾ മുത്തുമാല പോലെ പെയ്തിറങ്ങി.

“കാർത്തിക്…” ഞാൻ പതുക്കെ വിളിച്ചു.
“ങ്ങും”
“ദാ, മഴ പെയ്‌യുന്നു…”
അവൻ തിരിഞ്ഞു കിടന്നു. നിലാവെളിച്ചത്തിൽ അവന്റെ നെഞ്ചിൽ എഴുന്നുനിന്ന രോമങ്ങൾ തിളങ്ങി. ഞാൻ മുഖമുരസ്സവേ, അവ മോഹം കൊണ്ട് വിറച്ചു. മുറിയിൽ കുളിരു നിറഞ്ഞു. അവന്റെ നിശ്വ്വാസം കാറ്റിന്റെ അലർച്ചയായി എന്റെ കാതുകളെ തുളച്ചിറങ്ങി.
*

ഞാൻ ഉറക്കം ഉണരുമ്ബോൾ പുലർച്ചയായിട്ടില്ല. ആകാശത്തിലപ്പോഴും നീലവെളിച്ചം. കൈകാലുകൾ നീട്ടുമ്പോൾ സുഖമുള്ള വേദന. അവന്റെ താടിരോമം കോറിയ നീറ്റലിന്റെ വരകളിലൂടെ ആഹ്ലാദം സിരകളിൽ ഊറിയിറങ്ങി.

കട്ടിലിലിരുന്നു കാർത്തിക് ഷർട്ടിന്റെ ബട്ടണുകൾ ഇടുകയാണ്. ഞാൻ എഴുന്നേറ്റിരുന്നു.
“Hi ” അവൻ പറഞ്ഞു. “I was trying to not wake you.”
“നീ പോകുകയാണോ?” രാത്രിയിൽ കംബിളി പോലെ തോന്നിയ തണുപ്പ് ഒരു ഇരുമ്ബുറയുടെ ഭാരത്തോടെ എന്റെ തോളുകളിലിരുന്നു.
“Yeah, എയർപോർട്ടിൽ നിന്ന് വിദ്യയേയും ഋഷിയെയും pick ചെയ്യണം.”
“എത്ര മണിക്കാണ് ഫ്ലൈറ്റ്?”
“എട്ടു മണിക്ക്.” അവൻ സോക്‌സും ഷൂസുമിട്ട്, ലാപ്ടോപ്പ് ബാഗും കൈയിലെടുത്തു. ഞാൻ നൈറ്റ്ഡ്രസ്സ് ഇട്ട് ഇറങ്ങാൻ തുടങ്ങിയപ്പോൾ അവൻ പറഞ്ഞു, “വേണ്ട, go back to sleep. ഒരു രണ്ടു ദിവസത്തേക്ക് പറ്റുമെന്ന് തോന്നുന്നില്ല – പക്ഷെ ഞാൻ വിളിക്കാം. I love you.”

പുറത്തു മഴ തോർന്നിരിക്കുന്നു. മണ്ണിൽ അവിടവിടെയായി കെട്ടി കിടക്കുന്ന വെള്ളത്തിൽ എങ്ങു നിന്നോ പറന്നു വന്ന പ്ലാസ്റ്റിക് കവറുകളും കടലാസു കഷണങ്ങളും പൊന്തിക്കിടന്നു.
“Love you too.” അടഞ്ഞ വാതിൽ നോക്കി ഞാൻ പറഞ്ഞു.

In which we get away to a spot not too far away

In which we get away to a spot not too far away

It is usually halfway into Saturday that the urge to escape, get away to someplace quiet, grips SR and me. We spend hours looking for places, changing our plans every few minutes from night drive to trek to lazy holiday resort to an Airbnb with a view. In most cases, we end up not going anywhere at all.

Recently, we discovered that we have a getaway that’s right here. A place that few others seem to visit. A place with water and a lovely view.

Our swimming pool on the roof.

It’s been open for over six months but shamefully, we’ve started using it only now. With the rains starting a little earlier than expected, Bangalore weather has become balmy again during the day, even if for only a few hours. That is the time we get the key and go upstairs to the pool.

We’ve never yet encountered anyone else at these times, and since it’s on the roof, there is a beautiful view of the cityscape all around. And complete privacy. I can’t swim but I love playing in the water – floating, staying underwater longer and longer, and working out inside the water (it burns more calories and reduces the risk of muscle injury too.)

We’ve resolved to spend at least an hour every weekend in the pool and make the most of it while we’re here.

Stories By The Road

Stories By The Road

There was a time when I used to dread my daily commute to work. I felt it was a drain on my time, precious hours spent doing nothing. But somewhere along the way, I made my peace with it. After all, the choice to live in a metro does come with its own share of compromises.

But this morning, after over 6 years of negotiating Bangalore’s crazy traffic morning and evening, I discovered that I actually enjoy my commute.

It is time I get to spend away from distractions, alone with myself. Some days, I put down a to-do list. On others, I think up ideas for work. But most of the time, I look around me – at the people, the places I pass through. I take the same route every single day and some sights are so familiar, my eyes glaze over them. But any little change, any sight unseen as yet, makes me sit up and think – why the brown and grey dog who sleeps in front of the mall isn’t there today, a new billboard that’s come up near the flyover, a dum biryani shop that’s not open at its usual time…

Looking out of the cab window, I remember RL Stevenson’s poem From A Railway Carriage. Though the element of speed is missing (again, namma trafficku!) the similarities are not lost on me.

Here is a cart run away in the road

Lumping along with man and load;

And here is a mill and there is a river:

Each a glimpse and gone for ever!

Looking out of the cab window feels like looking through a bioscope. I see fascinating snatches of the lives of strangers and trees, but never the full picture. And as the cab moves on, I am left to imagine the story so far and what could lie ahead.

A little boy with a large, oddly-shaped piece of thermocol board, possibly from the packaging of a washing machine or TV, waiting to cross the road. He tries once, twice, falls back, hops on one foot in impatience. A man on a scooter slows down for him and he runs lithely across, and in one swift motion, hits his friend on the head with the thermocol piece. The friend spins around and I see that he has his own weapon in hand, a 2-litre soft drink PET bottle. And there by the roadside wages a war so ferocious, the earth shakes under the heroes’ feet.

On the steps in front of an appliance repair shop lie the Four Musketeers. Four brown dogs so identical, they must be from the same litter. Every day, they lie in a row, each one’s head resting against the next one’s bum. Four little curled-up balls, sticking together against the world.

A married couple in their thirties quarreling loudly. She says something to him and tuns away. I cannot make out the words, but I gather that it is a variation on “Go to hell!” As she walks away, he runs after her, swings her around and kisses her on the cheek. She is confused, embarrassed, delighted, all at the same time. As he grins at her cheekily and walks away, she shouts after him. Once again, I can make out that the words say “Go to hell!”. But this time, they mean something else.

A tenement of makeshift houses with roofs made of tin and tarpaulin. Men, women, children, goats, and dogs live together happily, tripping over each other, shouting across the walkways raucously. The women squat by the roadside, washing their clothes and chatting. An old man sleeps on a wooden plank supported on granite planks. A dog is stretched out near him. A toddler wearing no underwear stands near the dog, knocking him on the head with a plastic bottle. For a second, I wonder if it’s safe. What if the dog is hurt and he hurts the child? Before I can decide, the toddler stops. And the dog sits up and extends his paw towards him, as if to say, “Hey, why did you stop! Let’s play!” and I realize they are brothers.

A banyan tree near a temple, its branches spreading luxuriously, benevolently across the road. A makeshift bench beneath it, on which sit two old men in white shirts and mundus. One of them has a towel around his forehead. The other wears a turban. One of them has no teeth, his cheeks are sunken. The other is weatherbeaten, his cheeks reddish brown from too much sun. One’s moustaches are long and drooping, framing his lips on either side. The other chews paan constantly. They sit there next to each other in companionable silence, two of a kind from afar. I wonder when I grow old, how many banyan trees there will be left in Bangalore.

A man near a petty shop urging a black and white dog to eat the dozen biscuits he has put down in front of her. The dog is clearly not hungry – she wags her tail happily and sits there, staring up at him. In an injured tone, he complains to his companions about her lack of gratitude.

Life, so beautiful, so magical, teeming all around me. And I marvel at what I would have missed if not for my daily commute.

When life’s gone to the dogs…

When life’s gone to the dogs…

Living with dogs has many perks but it is not without its hairy moments. In this post, I’ve put together a bunch of observations about life with mutts that are only too familiar to pet parents. Non-pet parents, don’t be scared away – for all of these, dogs are the only creatures that will love you more than everybody else in your life put together; the only creatures who will be overjoyed to see you get back home after 10 minutes outside.

So, here goes.

#1 It’s called FURniture for a reason.

As new pet parents, all the literature we’d read online said dogs shed ‘seasonally’ and we naively interpreted that to mean once, perhaps twice, a year. But when you have multiple dogs whose shedding cycles are not in sync, it’s a different story. Every visible surface at home is permanently covered in a light dusting of fur. There’s always fur in the food -you just pick it out without batting an eyelid and continue to chomp down. You buy a gorgeous sofa, but keep it covered under an old bed sheet. Vacuuming becomes a hobby. You get the drift.

#2 Hair today. Still here tomorrow.

Anything you wear will be covered in dog hair. You can buy sticky rolls or rubber gloves or brushes or wet towels to try and get them off, but few things can be as stubborn as a strand of hair that means to stay.

A resourceful friend once suggested that we wear only clothes that match the colour of our dog’s fur so that the hair doesn’t show. Great suggestion – only, we have two dogs: one is black & white; the other is golden brown. Between the two of them, they cover the entire spectrum of fur colours and the fur always shows. Personally, I have given up the battle for a long time now. I wear fur as an accessory now.

#3 Squeamishness will be a thing of the past.

For starters, you will have to scoop poop twice a day. Though this is still a chore that SR and I keep bouncing off to each other, we’ve come a long way from the people who used to make disgusted faces. Now, we check the poop for consistency, colour, and to find out just what S has chomped down the previous day.  Normal dogs sniff things to explore them – S chews them. And if you try to take anything out of his mouth, he will swallow it at double speed. So far, we’ve found bits of a Nataraj pencil, pieces of a rubber toy, string, and cardboard in his poop, and S looks none the worse for the wear.

S also has motion sickness but we don’t want that to stop us from taking him out because once he’s back on level ground, he’s ridiculously happy to run around and explore. So the backseat of our car is covered with a plastic sheet on which we lay an old blanket to mop up the sick. We did try giving him vet-recommended sedatives to calm him down – during that drive, he vomited six times, four more than usual.

And this is not to mention when the poop gets stuck to their bottom and refuses to fall off and you have to run to find a tissue and get it out. Also times when they fall sick after eating too much of anything, excitement drooling, when they splash through pee and bring it in the house…let’s just say hand sanitizer, vinegar spritz, and disinfectant will become your best friends.

#4 Doggy grub will be better than yours.

There have been many, many days when SR and I were too zoned out to move but we still dragged ourselves to the kitchen to fix a meal for the mutts. On truly lazy days, it’s just kibble, but on the best days, it is a biryani of rice cooked with eggs, chicken, carrots and peas and flavoured with pepper, turmeric, and coconut oil. My mom often asks us why we don’t just eat a portion of this because it sure as hell sounds more nutritious than the junk or takeout we eat. But as we are vegetarian, this involves cooking the chicken separately and that’s just too much work. 😛

#5 Losing the battle of responsible parenting.

Every month or so, we are overcome by fits of conscientiousness and remark on what poor pet parents we make. We are not regular with walks (also because the boys are pretty lazy too and prefer to run around inside the house), nor are we regular with their training (most of what the boys have learned were taught to them when they were puppies.) Wracked by guilt, we make resolutions to shake things up and stick to a proper routine, starting tomorrow, no today, no, right away.

And then S will trot over and snuggle up between us and B will drape himself over our feet and the whole setup will feel so cosy and aww-some that we’ll just switch to Comedy Central and vegetate for hours.

#6 The vicious cycle of shopping for dog toys.

No new beginning in life, be it a starting a journal or joining a gym or having a baby, is complete without going out to shop for some ‘essentials’ and coming back with bags full of quirky stationery or light and breathable (read, far too expensive) gym clothes or a pram that resembles a high-powered self-sustaining life mobile.

In the case of pet parents, I think we just never outgrow this phase. We keep buying dog toys and chews and treats in the hope that they will bring lasting and meaningful joy to our dogs. The fact remains that treats are crunched up in a matter of seconds and toys are abandoned in days. But that is not to say that B and S don’t have lasting and meaningful joy – they do. They get it from old socks, twigs, plastic bottles, and the ring of doorbells when we get back home.

I could go on and on about living with dogs but I will save the rest of it for another post. Right now, I have to switch back to office mail and pretend to be hard at work, even if it’s Friday afternoon.

Sigh.

 

Unexplored Bangalore #4: National Gallery of Modern Art (NGMA)

Unexplored Bangalore #4: National Gallery of Modern Art (NGMA)

I first heard of NGMA Bangalore in 2010, only a year after it had been opened to the public. Around that time, we lived only a ten-minute walk away from where it was located, but never got around to visiting it. Seven years later, we live in another part of the town, over twenty kilometers away, but were seized with the urge to visit this gallery – so that’s what we did yesterday. Drove to Indiranagar, took the metro to Cubbon Park station, and then walked along tree-lined roads and past lovely houses with gardens to Palace Road, where this art gallery is located.

A little history

Manickavelu Mansion, front view. Houses NGMA Bangalore
Manickavelu Mansion, front view

The gorgeous building where the gallery is now housed stands on a 3.5 acre ground with many large, ancient trees, well-tended gardens and a pond. The building was once the residence of the yuvaraja of Mysore, but was sold in the early 1900s to businessman Manickavelu Mudaliar who has his own rags-to-riches story. According to this article, he once wanted to visit the mansion but was denied access until he bribed some of the caretakers. Once inside, he was so struck by the beauty of the place that he vowed to live there one day.

Mudaliar and his family did live in the mansion for a brief period of time but financial issues forced them to give it up. The mansion was then auctioned off and became taken over first by the City Improvement Trust Board (now the BDA) and later by the Ministry of Culture. It was also temporarily used as the UN office for technology initiatives but by the late 80s, the state government proposed that it be converted into a museum.

Restoration work  eventually began in 2003, preserving the heritage building at the centre but with the addition of a cafe, library, and a new wing, and the repair of the auditorium. By 2009, this became open to the public as the third National Gallery of Modern Art in India, the other two being in Delhi and Bombay. You can read more about the history of the building here.

The inside story

We didn’t know what what to expect from the term ‘modern art’, but the introduction to the museum right at the reception helped explain matters. Here, modern art is defined as art and sculpture created by Indians or those living in India at the time from the 18th century to the present (although we didn’t spot any work created after 2000.)

On Saturdays, there is a short guided walk conducted for free by one of the museum curators and we were luckily in time for this. Our guide explained the significance of the various galleries and the unique aspects of some of the styles of art, as well as the techniques used in creating woodcuts and lithographs. We were then free to explore the gallery as we liked.

Most of the paintings are marked with the name of the artist, the year of creation, the title, and the medium, but these details were missing in quite a few exhibits displayed in the new wing as well as in the sculpture gallery. But apart from these omissions, all the galleries are beautifully lit and maintained with many helpful staff stationed to guide you from one exhibit room to the next.

NGMA Bangalore, an inner courtyard
NGMA Bangalore, an inner courtyard

There were collections from the Bengal school, the Madras school, the Baroda school and the Mysore school with works by Rabindranath Tagore, Abanindranath Tagore, Jamini Roy, Raja Ravi Varma, and many others. Some of the works remain with me even now, especially M.F.Pithawala’s portraits of Parsi women and girls and Abanindranath Tagore’s rural scenes from Bengal. There is a virtual gallery available here for those who are unable to visit the museum, although nothing beats the original.

In the ground floor of the new building is a gallery dedicated to exhibitions and a collection by Kazuaki Tanahashi – Japanese artist, calligraphist and Zen teacher – was on when we went. His works had simple, yet powerful brush strokes in stunning colour combinations, and heroed negative space with great effect.

One piece that caught my eye in the sculpture gallery was an alloy cast of a flautist – there is no discernible head, but every line and curve of the figure is poised to create music, his fingers splayed over the holes on the flute, his lips puckered to blow. An absolute stunner.

There is also a cafe downstairs adjacent to the auditorium where you get really good comfort food like sandwiches and shakes, pasta, parathas, and biryani at reasonable prices. We tried the pasta, fries, and a cold coffee – all were delicious. The view of the garden with the tall, ancient trees right next to where you sit and eat is an added bonus.

The cage at NGMA Bangalore
The courtyard cafe

The garden in the front is full of trees and plants of all kinds, stretching towards the sky. Many of them are old, having been around since the bungalow was constructed. As you sit down by the steps and look at the greenery around, the quietness of the area suddenly strikes you. This is another world, a verdant, whimsical garden, an oasis in the middle of this teeming city.

A view of the grounds at NGMA Bangalore
A view of the grounds

Other details

Address: 49, Manickavelu Mansion, Palace Road

Entry tickets: Rs.20 for Indians. Rs.500 for foreign nationals.

Recommended duration of visit: 2-3 hours.

Photography is not permitted inside the galleries.

Travel Travails

Travel Travails

Imagine that you live in a remote suburb of Trivandrum.

For all practical purposes, it is in the middle of nowhere. There is no bus stop and no self-respecting auto driver will go there. You have to walk 1.5 kilometers south west to reach the nearest bus stop, from where you have a direct bus to college at 8:40 am. If you miss that, you will have to get on a series of buses, clinging on for dear life on the foot board. So the direct Veekkay bus is your lifeline.

One Monday, you are late. Despite having jogged all the way, you miss the bus by a wide margin. On Tuesday, you leave the house ten minutes early, determined to get the bus; but just as you reach halfway, you remember you have left your purse behind and rush back. You locate the purse in a jiffy but find it empty; you bang on the bathroom door, where amma has conveniently disappeared, and obtain the necessary cash. By the time you get out, you are no longer early (to say the least). You run all the way with your satchel bouncing up and down, sporadically smacking your bottom whenever it feels you are slowing down. You reach the bus stop just in time…to see the bus gliding away like a swan.

On Wednesday, you get out of your house twenty minutes early, after carefully checking that you have all the necessary cash and assignments in submittable condition, and walk at a leisurely pace to the bus stop. You can’t help feeling a teeny bit smug because you just know in your bones that today is your day. But just as you pass Bhagat Singh lane, you run into a family friend who insists on inquiring after the welfare of all your family members and describing his son’s many coups at a hair oil company in Chicken, Alaska. After ten minutes of looking pointedly at your watch and shuffling from foot to foot, you give up all hope and stand there resigned to your fate.

On Thursday, you leave forty minutes early so as to allow time for unexpected delays. But no obstacles come your way and you reach the bus stop at 8:25am. At least four buses going in your direction pass that way, but you smirk at them, secure in the knowledge that the Veekkay bus that will drop you off right in front of the college gates is coming up. 8:40am comes and goes…then 9. A bald man at the bus stop informs you that the bus you are waiting for has had a puncture and is in the workshop. You fling yourself on the dusty ground and weep.

On Friday, you leave the house at dawn, much to the annoyance of everybody else in the house. Miraculously, you get the bus. Your joy knows no bounds, as you hand a coin to the conductor and say triumphantly, “One ticket to Pappanamcode!”

He gives you an irritated look and says, “Didn’t you read the board before getting in? The route has been changed…this bus now goes to Museum.”

[I came across this piece on my old blog. It was written based on real life incidents in March 2006, in the days before Uber. I tend to dislike most of what I’ve written in the past, but this was an exception.]