Where Are You Headed To?

How much apprehension and hesitation can one experience? Or is it possible that at each new situation one would experience these feelings? I tend to have more than my fair share of these emotions each time I am faced with a ‘different’ situation. Be it an invite to a reunion of old fellas from the school or having a friend come over and stay with you for a few days, travelling with a companion across the country side. Or, asking for a favour (that I badly need) from a colleague/boss/friend. And, once committed to any of these above activities I always try to see if there are avenues that’d let me escape from them! I’d wish even the most ‘ridiculous’ things to happen so that I don’t have to meet these oldies from school or having the friend at home. I’d wish something catastrophic to happen so that I don’t have to travel!

After having cribbed that none visited me in Bhutan, I now have a friend coming over, staying with me and travelling with me to Central and Eastern Bhutan. As the date of his arrival and stay draws closer I just wonder if there’s some reason that I can use to ‘retreat’ from this whole thing! However I also realize that each time I have ‘rethought’ my decisions (albeit the other person not knowing I’ve done something like that) I’ve been the loser! I can quote umpteen examples including my golf sessions or getting a weapon for myself.

This time I’m holding my nerves and keeping my fingers crossed. I hope I won’t commit any hara-kiri and be a decent host.

Starting end of this week I’ll be travelling all over Bhutan and parts of West Bengal and Nepal. In the company of KK who's arrived from Bangalore. Looking forward to the journey with both enthusiasm and trepidation. Hope to come back with memories for days to come! And, pictures and stories for the blog too...

Good News!

Time to celebrate! My posting orders have been issued and the department otherwise known to be mean and nasty has been kind enough to post me to Bangalore (it's always been kind to me though)! Yet again I get an independent charge. No boss sitting over my head. And come to think of it, I am yet to see an office where I've a boss supervising me on real-time, regular basis. At this rate, I might end up being a very difficult person to handle when I get posted under someone! It has to happen someday - sooner or later.

So, the countdown to move from Bhutan has started. I know I'll miss this place!

Into the Wilderness

(Possible readers beware, a long post ahead! Brevity surely isn’t my forte)!

Friday began with the persistent ring of the cell phone. “Sir, Rinpoche has planned a trek-cum-puja. It’s the Holy Smoke Day tomorrow. He wants you too to join in. Would you? I know your parents are around…” Sunil trailed off over phone. “Where would we be heading to?” “It’s on the way from Paro to Thimphu Sir. You don’t have to travel to Paro and then come back”. “Let me think Sunil”. Parents had just arrived from home (thanks to Mohan who had brought them along with his own parents from Bangalore). I wondered if it was appropriate to go away to trek while they were very new to the place. And, I knew my mom would feel very jittery if I went on treks. “Be careful. Don’t climb too fast. Don’t jump around. Don’t this, don’t that” she would tell me a thousand times each time I’d headed for a trek when she was in Bhutan last time (from October to December). And, her eyes would be glued to the road until I was back. Invariably she’d say, “I was worried. You really took a long time to return”!

Sunil and I had disappointed the Rinpoche twice in the same week. He wanted to celebrate his birthday with us. I was unable to do that as parents had just arrived the day before. He also wanted to take us to the Chele La Pass and star-gaze in the night (over a heady mix of the Buddhist philosophy and Arra). That was not meant to happen either. When I’d called him to wish him he literally screamed (forgetting he has supposedly renounced everything)!

Who’s this Rinpoche? How do I know him?
Sunil, one of the several Kannada friends here in Bhutan is an Army Officer, posted at Paro. We hit off well from the moment we were introduced (early 2006). He happened to get introduced to the Rinpoche by Major General Dhendup Tshering of Royal Bhutan Guards. (“He’s my godfather” I remember Rinpoche telling me). (Any) Rinpoche is a great religious leader and head of an important monastery. The Rinpoche we know is the 9th incarnation of the Heyphug Monastery and is known as Neyphug Trulku Rinpoche. Many people also fondly call him ‘Tiku’ (a corrupted form of ‘Trulku’). The monastery ‘Tiku’ heads is over 500 years old. But, thanks to the long gap in the selection of the present Rinpoche after the death of the 8th Rinpoche, the monastery is almost in ruins. ‘Tiku’ was very young when he was picked up from Eastern Bhutan and anointed as the ‘next’ in line to head the Heyphug monastery. He was sent to Bylakuppe in Karnataka to study Buddhist theology. After many years of study, he’s now back in Bhutan and trying to revive the monastery to its earlier glory days. There are enough myths that surround the monastery and its earlier Rinpoches. They’d themselves make an interesting book!

So, through Sunil I met the Rinpoche – we travelled to attend the Tsechu at his monastery (Tsechu means ‘festival’ in Dzongkha, the Bhutanese language). I was impressed with the Rinpoche, the aura was unmistakably there. The first visit led to the second and the third. By the time we met at Sunil’s promotion party (from Captain to Major) we had become good friends!

Back to the present.
I called Sunil and told him I’d be coming. I organised for the vehicle to take me to the place we were supposed to meet up. ‘Kapsa Tapchu’. “How far is it from Semtokha?” I asked Sunil. “I have no idea Sir. Please speak to Rinpoche”. And Rinpoche was either unavailable or not answering the phone. I learnt in all there would be over 40 people travelling to the temple where the puja was to be conducted, including Maj. Sither of the Royal Bhutan Army (who works at the Airport and is good company) and Aum Dechen Wangmo, a gutsy and beautiful lady who runs a good restaurant and travel agency in Paro. Each of us was to cook and carry a dish. I chose to make pulao. We were supposed to reach the rendezvous 7AM sharp.

Weekend. And invariably a flash-session was planned at HKS’s place. I found it difficult to stir out of the bed in the morning. With great reluctance I trundled into the kitchen and made the pulao (mom was a great help as I got ready). The vehicle arrived at 6. “What time would you be back?” mom asked her usual question. “By afternoon or early evening ma”. “Be careful” she didn’t forget to add!

I had NO idea where Kapsa Tapchu was. After travelling nearly 10kms towards Paro, we stopped at a small village and asked someone basking in the morning sun. “Which is the road to Kapsa Tapchu?” “THIS is Kapsa Tapchu” the old man replied. I’d seen this village a hundred times! We’d reached. Time to wait for the rest of the pack to arrive. 15 minutes and all others had arrived. “Now where’s the monastery/temple we are headed to?” I asked Rinpoche who still was daggers-drawn at not having made it to Paro for his b’day! “Oh! We have to go beyond the leprosy hospital to Bimrey” he replied vaguely. “Is there place in your vehicle?” I nodded affirmatively. “Then please bring my cousin, niece and father in your vehicle”.

Soon we had left behind the metalled roads and we were on dirt-track along a gushing stream. The road began to climb uphill with several hairpin bends. There was only space for one vehicle to move. “What if we encounter trucks coming from the opposite direction?” I had no reply to that. After driving for over an hour and a half we reached the end of the tracks and a huge field. When everyone got off the Rinpoche announced grandly, “From here we have to trek for two hours”! I thought I’d faint. “Don’t bother to wait here. Go back, have lunch and come back Chandrayan. Also tell my parents that I’d be late” I told the driver.

Climbing a steep mountain with even a gram of weight apart from your own is a Herculean task. But my long daily walks, over 6 months of non-smoking (but for a mini-break in between) and several earlier treks came in handy. The weather too was just right for the trek. And, we were 40 people and loads of fun. But some of us had set the pace. Soon, Sunil, Sither, Dechen and I had left everyone behind (including Rinpoche and a few other monks). The climb though arduous was invigorating. The mountain was lush green, there were flowers everywhere (I’d stop to admire them every now and then much to the annoyance of others. I even wanted many pictures of these flowers. Unfortunately Sunil’s NOT a good photographer by any yardstick and the pictures turned out damp squib – but for some of those that I clicked). And Sither was keeping us engaged with his recounting of the myths relating to Bimrey. Yes, Bimrey was the place we were trekking to. The place from where the line of Heyphug monastery and its Rinpoche all began. In the 16th Century.

It took just over two hours for us to reach the temple. “This was built by angels (Dakinis in the Vajrayana Buddhist lore) in a single night” Sither informed us. “You know Dakinis are Divine beings that are small. If you go around the temple and look at the large stones you’ll see their footprints where they first landed to help the first Rinpoche. Only a portion of the temple is allowed to be seen as it was originally built. The Royal Government has built a wall all around it for protection” he continued as he showed us around the temple. Soon, the little monks at the temple complex had brought us water and tea. We were simply soaking in the natural beauty around us. I discovered some tiny, shiny yellow flowers that were lovely. They looked as though they were freshly oil-painted. There was another monastery that we could view using our binoculars. Sither had another story to relate about the distant monastery – that a greedy one tried to steal precious jewels at the shrine. When he touched the jewels, his palm got glued to the place and wouldn’t budge. He had to chop his palm off to run away from being caught. Even to this day the hand stays there – stuck to the shrine, shrivelled albeit. Hmm!!

An hour after we had reached the rest of the group filed in. After some refreshments and meeting some of the monks who were meditating near the temple (in caves) we trouped into the shrine for the special prayers. It’s a hair-raising experience to listen to all the monks (and monks had come from several monasteries already) chant the Buddhist scripts in chorus without missing a beat. It’s considered holy to receive rains just after the prayers. And it promptly showered. Everyone was blissful! Once the prayers were over (some of us were requested to leave the prayer hall early and just leave the monks behind) we heard the story (the myth) of the building of the Bimrey temple from Aum Ani Rinzin, the Rinpoche’s mother. She also happens to be the Royal Predictor – Fortune Teller (when Mrs. Mohan heard the Rinpoche say this another time when we all met, just after the trek, she heard it as ‘Royal Predator’).

Soon we were lunching. There were as many varieties of ‘dashis’ as possible. Emadashi, kevadashi, mushroom dashi, beans dashi. Dashi means curry. Every curry is made with cheese (yak cheese generally) and chillies. Emadashi is chilli curry. And the curries are eaten with rice. Bhutanese love their food spicy. Their ‘doma-eating’ habits also necessitate this I guess. Of course there was non-vegetarian stuff too (fish, chicken and pork; beef was forbidden by the Rinpoche for the day). The Rinpoche soon after lunch asked Sunil and I to join the dancers (monks largely) – so we tried to learn a bit of Bhutanese song and dance. It was hilarious.

The best part of the trek happened now. I was introduced to Phub Tshering, a monk meditating in one of the caves around. A tall, majestic and extremely serene looking person, he was accompanying his Guru (Khempo, ‘professor’). When I addressed him ‘Lama’ he said, “Call me Phub. I’m fine with it”. I’d to request him to call me by my name as he insistently addressed me as ‘Sir’ – embarrassing even to an egoist! Suddenly my mind said that he’s the RIGHT person to ask all my long-lingering questions on the Buddhism followed in Bhutan. I stuck to him like glue from then until evening when it was time to leave and get home before mom would come looking for me! (I’ve to write a separate post on the experience of meeting Phub. I have his contact details too and would meet him again).

Another short trek followed to the meditation centre of the Rinpoche. Every Rinpoche of the Heyphug monastery meditates here – sometimes for months. And, a long retinue of flags were carried by all of us from the temple to the meditation centre. The view from the meditation hall was breath-taking. On one side we could see the entire Paro town and on the other, the sprawling city of Thimphu. We also meditated at the same place where the first Rinpoche had meditated and had had a vision of Guru Rinpoche (Padmasambhava, the harbinger of Buddhism into Bhutan). A Kannada conversation too was thrown in as several of the monks and nuns had educated themselves in Bylakuppe near Mysore (where the Tibetan refugee camp is located along with a monastic school).

My moments of pride came soon after this. The Rinpoche handed me a specially-worshipped flag. “Tie this at the house you’re planning to build. It’ll bring you peace”. As we were taking leave of the Kempo and other meditators, I too tried to bow and kiss the hand of the Kempo like all others. He said, “No, you’ll not do that” and proceeded to touch his forehead to mine – something that’s done between equals. I was touched (and I thought I’d float). It reminded me of two other similar incidents that had happened. During my visit to Punakha a lama walked up to me and tied a sacred thread around me. I was surprised as it’s not tied to any non-Bhutanese. Again in Taktsang, a Lama offered me a white scarf ignoring all others who had travelled along.

It was close to 9 in the night when I reached home. I’d had the sense to call parents once I was able to access the network on my cell. The experience of Bimrey will stay fresh for years to come. Thanks to the many friends I made on the way.

Salute!

Amidst all the slayers, corrupt, necrophiles, vultures and the opportunists Ram Lal surely is different. It’s easier to meet someone who’s taken life. How often does one meet someone who has saved another person’s life in reality? Here I was face-to-face with Ram Lal at tea. Tea specially organised to recognise his achievement.

Ram Lal won the gallantry award, Shaurya Chakra for saving the lives – at the risk of his own - of two people during an avalanche in the Kardungla Pass, Ladakh. Speaks volumes of his presence of mind and selflessness – qualities I don’t possess. May be that was the reason I felt proud to talk to him and get a picture clicked with him.

Change

The King went naked today. He discarded his robes for the unadorned, nude look. After weeks and weeks of silks, feathers and plumes, this was a shocking change. Every day we subjects would wait for the King to prance around in his multi-hued feathers – sometimes white, sometimes dark grey, sometimes black and sometimes golden – and expectantly await the shower of the feather-lets to fall from his dresses. We celebrated such joyous occasions of having been blessed by the Lord.

After many such weeks of expectations, disappointment and joy for his subjects, the King has discarded his robes. The winter has ended. The sky stretches from end to end like a blue ocean without a hint of clouds. Please welcome summer.

Office...II

Bringing back the Chief to issues that matter isn't easy. He loves going off-tangent and veer towards the exotic - sailing championships, Dantak golf tournament or even Archery!

“Sir, do you mind if I go beyond these contracts for a minute?”
“Go ahead Sudhir”.
“This might sound like a critique of your style of functioning. However I’m not trying to criticise you Sir. Just trying to put things across as I see them”.
“Sure. I’m listening Sudhir”
“Sir, I think you’re soft when it comes to handling your staff officers. There are times when you need to wield the stick. Take my own office for example. I’m not your subordinate. However I provide important services. In case my services aren’t timely or inadequate, you as the boss of the project should tick me off. But that doesn’t seem to be happening”.
“Why do you think so?” I could see the Chief getting agitated ever-so-slightly. I went on to elaborate on the simmering discontent, the ego hassles, the one-upmanship between the GREF and the Army Officers, between the Engineers and the non-engineers, the importance of golf over work and the inconvenience caused to the personnel.
“If the officers were listening to you, do you think you had to bring down the targets for the year thus?” I was sure my concluding question would make the Chief ponder for hours after I’d left the meeting. But there were more bitter pills that I was about to deliver. I was working my mind to find the sugar coatings. There was the issue of air-lift charges – Chief’s penchant for using the chopper too often. If I didn’t handle this carefully I knew I’d bring about a whole load of embarrassment to him (and risk ‘cold vibes’ at work). I tread the slippery ground carefully. He’s beaming at the end of it all. Now, it’s time for him to seek my ‘invaluable’ advice. He wants my counsel on the changes he wants to bring about in the allocation of responsibilities among various officers. “Please do this carefully Sir as the court orders are out regarding the parity of various ranks between GREF and the Army” I advise him carefully. “Do you have any measures for the welfare of the personnel Sudhir?”
I grabbed the chance with all my limbs. I had enough to suggest on this matter. “First Sir, consider revising the office timings. Because of the strange timings most of the personnel get hardly any free time”. The office hours are between 7:30 in the morning and 2:10 in the afternoon. However, because of golf many officers do leave the office early. And, then the Chief himself finds it hard to sit at home in the evenings. So, he (and most officers) is back at workplace during the evenings. So, the clerks, the pioneers and the CPLs work until almost 9 in the night. Mindless this is. “I had never thought of it from this angle Sudhir. I’ll surely think about it and make changes if I think it’s feasible”. First victory. There are more to win.
“Sir you must consider providing for more bathroom facilities for the NCOs. I know they have adequate facilities as per scale. But we live in extremely cold conditions. And, if our office starts at 7:30, what they have at present wouldn’t be enough.”
“I’ll tell Aniruddh to bring up a proposal for getting this done before the Raising Day Sudhir. This is a good point”.
“The sentries are asked to do the rounds until after midnight. However there are no facilities for them to sit anywhere except near the Officers’ Mess. One guard-station must be constructed near Officers’ accommodation or the gym”.
“Okay! Will be done”

“Sir, you spoke about sending an officer to Switzerland to do a short course on their methods of construction. I have an officer in mind for it. Do you mind if I suggest?”
“Sudhir, who are you thinking of?”
“I thought Mr. AG would be most appropriate?”
“Hmm... why do you think he’s the most suited?” More elaborations follow. Chief agrees with my recommendation. “I had the same person in my mind”. (A few days later, Chief during tea with all officers remarks, “The DGBR isn’t willing to consider the name that I have proposed. I’ve told them, if they don’t, then I won’t make the proposal for training at all”).

The pioneer brings in tea. Silence falls as we sip tea. The meeting too almost comes to an end. Chief – out of courtesy – asks, “Are there any issues with the officers’ accommodations? Can we do something to make them better?”
“At present the accommodations are large enough Sir though I wouldn’t call them comfortable. However there are issues with regard to their maintenance. None seems to care.” I go on to describe the problems in my own quarter and conclude with, “Such problems might be existing in almost all quarter but for a few”.
“I’m so glad Sudhir you brought out so many issues to my knowledge. I’ll try and address them all in as short a time as possible. Meanwhile, would you please clear the cases of conference room requirements?”
“Sir those cases haven’t come to me. I’ll clear them on priority” I pause “Provided they’re processed correctly”
Chief smiles and says, “You won’t give up, do you?
“Thank you Sir. Good day!” I take leave.

Post-Script
In the next two days, all grievances that I had had about my accommodation are resolved. Construction for the guard room begins too. I also get a phone call from the Director (works). “Sudhir, would you please come to my office? I have a few issues to discuss”. When I reach the office I find AM too there. Both the men look grim, glum and sombre. After the strained pleasantries, D asks, “You could at least have come to me with your quarter problems instead of telling them to the Chief”. “I didn’t tell them. He asked me”.

“Sudhir, you could’ve discussed these issues of contracts with me before going to the Chief?” “No Sir, I won’t discuss with you. You’re not in my chain of command at all”. He gives out a mirthless laugh and asks “Do you suspect my integrity?” “That’s none of my business Sir”. “Then?” “When I am asked for advice, I expect it to be followed unless you put down your differences on paper. However with regard to those contracts, you didn’t follow my advice.” “But Sudhir, I had a word with the MES people after your advice and followed what they said”. “So far as you are concerned I’m the Government and the final authority on advice”. Both the officers continue to remain speechless as I walk out of the office.

Office Office...

My cellphone rang during our flash session – a rare thing in the afternoon (the call, not flash). It was the PS to the Chief Engineer. “Sir I’ve been trying to reach you for over 2 hours”. “What’s the matter Mr. Kutty?” “Chief wants to meet you sir tomorrow. He’ll be coming to the office at 10 in the morning”. “But tomorrow’s a holiday; it’s His Majesty’s birthday”. “He’s requested that you meet him at 10:15 Sir”. Others were curious. “Why does chief want to meet you?” “Oh! There are some issues” I said vaguely (and tried to sound as important as possible).

Chief and I share a love-hate relationship. His belief and confidence in me and my words is tidal. It sees a regular ebb and high – ebbs are longer though. I wondered what it would be this time.

A little background on the Chief
The Chief Engineer is the head of the Project (Dantak, the road-building project). Though I head an independent office here as the finance and audit guy, I still am responsible for the services provided by my office to the executive. Of course the Chief is senior and hence I could call him the Boss.

As a person Brig MSP is affable. He’s almost self-effacing, mild-mannered, well-dressed and courteous. He’s nice to a fault with his men. I can’t vouch for his language or conversational skills (I rate him 3 on a scale of 1 to 10 most times on these two attributes; he LOVES to talk). But as the head of the project he’s a disaster. He is not corrupt but not incorruptible. He wields little control over most of his subordinate officers. He has grand ambitions, dreams and visions but lacks in both planning and implementation. He prefers conferences and presentations to on-site inspections and ground-level interactions. Though he is responsible for roads his travel’s mostly by the chopper. By concentrating on new and exotic (read whimsical and unrealistic) ideas that he gets from the books he reads he misses out on the whole picture. Achievements of the project are woefully short of the lofty targets he’s set himself. He means well but does little. So, the targets get revised downwards at least twice before the year-end. He also gets easily upset with me quoting logic (since I don’t know rules) whilst arguing why he can’t do things he proposes to! He also gets easily influenced by his people (and hence his opinion on me keeps fluttering like the flag in the wind). In short he thinks I’m a prick most times and an evil that can’t be wished away at others.

A little background on why Chief wanted to meet
A few days ago, just before Chief left for Delhi for (yet another) conference he’d asked me to see him (and give my 2-cents on his presentation). After the tête-à-tête was over, just as I was leaving I mentioned to the irregularities I’d noticed in the contracts that were concluded. “Sudhir, were they because of lack of knowledge?” “No Sir, I think they were deliberate. But I’d rather discuss the issue once you’re back from Delhi”.

He’d remembered this conversation (which again is a rare thing) and wanted to talk more about it.

The Meeting
10:15 was too early for a meeting on a holiday. I had no time to bathe. I barely managed to shave. I didn’t even change into a fresh set of clothes. Breakfast too was eaten hurriedly. When I entered Chief’s office, his PS too was present. Soon he was asked to leave and immediately Chief said, “Yes Sudhir, you were telling me about the contracts before I left for Delhi”.

“Sir, in the last one month I have returned at least 6 contracts without vetting them on grounds of irregularities in their conclusion”. I elaborated on this and pointed out the irregularities I had observed. Cases of awarding contracts to non-lowest bidders resulting in loss to the State, cases where the bids were overwritten to make a particular contractor the lowest bidder, cases where revised offers were received by the Office even before these offers were written!

“Are you sure that these lapses are deliberate? Could they not possibly be due to lack of knowledge?” the Chief asked after listening to my marathon drone.
“It’d have been possible in one case or even two but not in all cases”.
“Who do you think is responsible?”
“Anyone dealing with the Works”
“Do you have any doubts about any particular officer?”
“No. I don’t play the ‘finger-pointing’ game. I have brought the matters to you. It’s for you to find out who might be involved”.
“What about the present Director (wks)? Do you think he’s involved too?”
“I don’t know Sir”.
“Do you have any doubts about AM?” AM is a Lt Col serving as the Senior Staff Officer – Works. He’s the one who does most of the scrutiny after the bids are received.
“No Sir. If there’s one officer whose integrity I’d vouch for, it’s him. Of course we have our differences over enough things but that apart, I believe he’s clean”. I remember many instances of our ego clashes. Because AM ‘thinks’ he is senior to me (by age and years of service) he has tried to call me in singular terms. Since I don’t consider him senior by rank I have addressed him the same way, with a little bit of arrogance and disdain thrown in for good measure (and in front of all men). He has been careful ever since.
“Really Sudhir?” and the talk drifted to how the previous Director (wks) – how corrupt he was! - didn’t want AM as his deputy, how the present Director (wks) was impressive with his work and his knowledge of rules. Soon I grew tired and brought back the discussion to the topic concerned.

(To be continued...)

Games People Play

The phone rang just when I was about to enter the bath for a quick evening shower. It was KM. “Hi! How was golf today?” I asked. “Oh! Today I played 9-holes for the first time”. A few minutes of golf talk and the conversation came to its purpose. “Not having any sessions today? SY had a holiday today and she’d thought that there’d be one”. I could hear Mrs. KM (SY is Mrs. KM) prompting KM to ask if something could be managed now. “I wanted ma’m to call as I thought she might have wanted to rest on a holiday. If you want to play now, talk to others and let me know” I said (all ladies are addressed as ‘madam’). “Where do we sit?” “Anywhere. It could be at even my place. I have no problems”. Soon AG called and it was decided that we all would gather at my place in 10 minutes.

Flash (teen-patti) is the new addiction among some of us here. The entire camp of 15 officers is divided by the games of choice – golf and flash! Golf for the elite and flash for the plebeians! Of course there are enough plebeians aspiring to become the elite (and not entirely succeeding in their efforts). Before flash made its debut I too had tried my hand at golf but gave up before the elitist bug bit me. Three families and a few bachelors (forced, otherwise) get together regularly (since late October) during the weekends (and sometimes on weekdays too during the evenings), play flash, gossip (nothing ‘official’ about it most times, to borrow the popular phrase of Pepsi during an old cricket world cup), have dinner together. Everyone – earlier only the families, now even the bachelors – gets what’s been made at home and generally forget the cribs that one has about the workplace, lack of work, et al in Thimphu. It’s fun most times (and a lot of bitching behind each other’s back).

When the senior-most officer (barring the Chief) learnt of the ‘flashy’ ways of the plebeians he wasn’t too happy (he himself being ‘elite’ he obviously could see things from ONLY his point of view or blindness). He called a conference immediately and warned every one of the consequences of playing cards (any card game) with stakes. “I shall not allow anyone to play for stakes. I have seen many Units crumbling because of cards. So gentlemen, remember that there won’t be any more long evenings planned for playing cards at anyone’s home”. The same evening we all gathered at my place to play flash. Some were scared of course (like Mr. HS) but others were devilishly defiant (and to ensure the boss learns of our session we created enough ruckus outside right in the midnight).

Though everyone wants to play, none would want to say it. Everyone would look to the other or only give such signals and make such statements that would make oblique references to not having anything to do and trying to say that the ‘others’ want to play it. The ladies are particularly hooked to the game (Mrs. KM despised rummy and would groan endlessly while we used to play it). Each person has a pattern in playing. Each person’s desire too fluctuates everyday. Mr and Mrs. HS would love to play continuously if they’re winning while the KM couple would want a break after a good winning streak. Also it’s a fair toss between gaining those extra hours of sleep over playing flash for them. Earlier the AG couple would take a lot of interest to organise the sessions but after the game’s become popular (AG is also called Tashi – Tash, for cards in Hindi and Tashi, the patron saint; but Tashi means Auspicious in Bhutanese and Tibetan) they only join in and show a feigned reluctance! SA (my deputy at the office) is a forced bachelor. He is always keen to play but would complain the next day that he couldn’t sleep because the game extended beyond 11! He also can’t do without his daily dose of daaroo. So, suddenly between 8 and 9, he’d disappear for about 15-20 minutes, have two quickies and join us back – the smell sometimes giving him away. There’d be jokes – invariably behind his back – as he’d vanish. Rarely there’d be jokes about his Assamese accent too (this, I thought was cruel, so I had to ask others to stop). Earlier while I was still a smoker, I’d sneak out for a quickie every time tea/coffee was served (AG and SA would join in AFTER their tea was over).

KM and HS are at loggerheads (both try to cheat by giving signals to their wives; HS using his eyes and KM with the advantage of his native language not understood by any but me; but KM would always be upset whenever this is done by HS!). There would be minor skirmishes too at times. HS would be smiling sheepishly (his wife sulking) and KM would be sulking (his wife smiling) during such skirmishes! The AG couple are fair and also the luckiest in the game. I’m the reckless one. “One can’t guess when he’s playing seriously” is a common refrain heard from others. Sometimes we are joined by SK, the youngster (who’s managed to write every rule very clearly and also his own analysis of ‘How to play Flash and Win too’ but always ends up losing) and RT (prim, proper and plain lucky in getting trails).

If one’s sitting for long hours, there should be snack-breaks. So, there’d be a flow of snacks (since almost everyone gets something from one’s house) and tea/coffee. Sometimes I wonder if we get together to play or to feast. So, you’d have puffed rice snacks, potato wafers, ‘murukku’ (“how come this almost melts in the mouth?” “Oh, it’s ‘benne muruku’ – it’s made with butter”), ‘avarekalu’ (“What is this?” “Ah, it’s a type of wild beans available only in parts of South. It’s of course related to your vegetable ‘sim’. We soak the beans, take out the outer cover, semi-dry it and then fry it, add mirchi powder and other spices along with chewda, peanuts, and dry coconut to make this namkeen. How do you like it?” “It’s yummy, mummy!!”) , boiled sweet potatoes, bujia, mixture, moong dal, pakoras, bajjis, chewda, biscuits and cookies, cakes and pastries (mostly baked by the distinguished ladies and sometimes the Britannia cakes; pastries from Bhutanese bakeries are exorbitant to be served as snacks), lime juice, filter coffee (ah, the pleasures of being a South Indian) and even scrambled eggs (“Saddam really makes amazing egg burji. I should send Sangeeta to learn from him”).

The lunch/dinner that’d serve as a break while playing would also be a rather elaborate affair. “What are you making today? I’ll get pulao”. “Main to aaj mushroom-mutter banaayee hoon”. “Lovely!” “Mr. Sudhir would you please ask Saddam to make jamoons; you’ve really taught him so well”. “No, Mr. Sudhir I’d prefer to have hesarubele payasa”. “Ma’m I should learn how to make Vaangi Baath from you”. “We use the ready mix of MTR. If you want take a pack from us. I have a few to spare”. Such lunches/dinners ensure that new cuisines and recipes are tried out, microwaves are constantly working, the helpers at home are busy and we get sufficient calories to exercise throughout the week (my trousers groan as I write)!

It’s not just the adults who look forward to the flash-acts. Children love these sessions too. They get to play without being supervised, particularly video/computer games. And, they’re disappointed when the adults decide to end the sessions before mid-night! “Why are we leaving early?” they groan! It also helps that they have annual holidays at the moment.

Regularly there’d be a rather ‘HOT’ discussion during dinner (a ‘flash’ in the pan) probably for two reasons. One, to vent the frustration of losing and two, to keep oneself warm in the cold winters! Surprisingly (or not) the ladies don’t join the discussion – unless it’s about astrology, movie-stars, daily soaps or jewellery (yes, these too are discussed). I’m the only one who takes the liberty of getting flirty with the women (don’t know if they like it, but their grins say they bear it nonetheless). I call them ‘queens’, even ‘Teen Deviyaan’. The husbands barely manage to stay quiet and keep their hands to themselves as I even talk about the ladies’ weights bringing some appreciative noises from them. They also reciprocate with things like, “You look best with your French beard; you shouldn’t have shaved your moustache”. “Ma’m I had to choose between looking ugly and looking old. I chose the former” I respond.

So, the session went well today, some watched KBC while having dinner (stuffed paranthas (stuffed with methi, palak, peas and cheese), pulao, raita, mixed vegetable curry, cabbage, chicken curry, dal, carrot halwa and chocolate cakes). Children were excited to have some new company in SA’s daughter. And, suddenly the talk veered to common ailments and health problems and their cures. “I’m now trying acupressure for my backaches” Mrs. KM, the wife of a qualified doctor, and a dentist herself, said. That brought us to the end of the day of flash, feasting, flood of intellectual thoughts (on acupressure, Baba Ram Dev, Yoga and backaches). I burped contentedly as everyone left home only to be offended by the smell emanating from the kitchen (apart from the burp itself) of all the soiled utensils, the morsels on the dining table, floor, carpet, and bed. Small pains for large gains – an evening well-spent!

Exhileration...

It finally happened. The entire world with that one moment turned beautiful, heavenly. I felt one with the universe. The ecstasy I felt was more powerful than a steamy session of passionate love-making.

It snowed. Slowly first. Small flakes. Like a shower of feathers. Like jasmine petals coming down from the skies. The contrast of the white snow with the dark skies took my breath away.

I fail to find adequate words to describe the experience. Even all the pictures I took won't do justice. One has to experience the snowfall oneself and understand what bliss is. One word stays with me though, 'serenity'. Coincidentally I'm reading, 'Snow' the acclaimed novel by Orhan Pamuk!

And then just as it had begun, it stopped. Suddenly.