Killer Tunes…

The Big Man’s estate was glowing, a palatial spectacle of fairy lights and red carpets that suggested a royal wedding, even though there was no occasion at all. It was luxury for the sake of luxury. He was showing off his silver, possibly hoping to curry his next promotion from the higher-ups, the guests of the evening. 

As the evening deepened, the "cool" drinks began to do their heavy lifting. Inhibitions dissolved into the humid air, and suddenly, the "talent" emerged. A makeshift stage became the focal point for a parade of guests eager to impress the bigwigs in attendance.

One young man stepped up, radiating a terrifying level of confidence. He launched into Kishore Kumar’s classic, ‘Mere Naina Saawan Bhaadon..’ and proceeded to dismantle it with relentless zest. I looked toward the exits, half-expecting security to bolt the doors to prevent a mass stampede of guests screaming ‘Bachao! Bachao!’ or perhaps to protect the singer from being mauled by a purist.

But no. To my horror, the crowd erupted in raucous applause. Mediocrity, it seems, is quite popular when served with premium scotch.

Just as I thought the auditory torture had peaked, the microphone was snatched by a man who didn't just sing Stevie Wonder—he belted ‘I just called to say I love you’ with the subtlety of a jackhammer. He was followed by a lady whose rendition of ‘Dil toh hai Dil..’ was so cacophonous that I lost all aitbaar (trust) in the human ear’s ability to filter noise.

I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I leaned toward my neighbor and muttered, “Kishore would be turning in his grave right now, saying he’s actually glad to be dead.”

The lady next to me didn't skip a beat. “And Stevie would be wondering why he’s blind and not deaf,” she chipped in.

Her friend, sipping her drink coolly, added the finishing touch: “Lata would be delivering her choicest gaalis to these mofos!”

We stood there in a small, cynical circle of sanity, bonded by the shared trauma of hearing the legends murdered by the very musical notes that made them!

The Reluctant Nomad

Savouring a sunrise at the Hut Bay, Little Andaman

I’m under a house-arrest. Almost. I hurt myself  thanks to a freak fall from the stairs at the office. Doctor said the ligaments are torn in the foot and ankle and I need to rest for 8 weeks, with the ankle binder firmly in place. The unwarranted break from moving around hasn’t been easy to handle. 

I would like to view myself as an active person (my parents may disagree). I love moving about - sitting still isn’t really me. I easily notch up over 12k steps a day. Plus, I live to travel. If I’m not already packing the bags and heading somewhere, I am planning for one. Money and time were to permit, I would see every part of the world. Even those that nobody wants to go to. Like a scientist examining every cell of a tissue under a microscope! Or, a little kid in a toy store racking through all the dolls, or a candy shop trying every flavour! As I twiddle my thumbs sitting at home (and mind most of my work too from here, unless a meeting warrants me to limp my way to workplace) Sometimes I wonder why I travel.  Is it because I will have some bragging rights, that I have travelled to so many nations/places? Do I crave for some strange validation and attention from people? Yes, I do want to stack up numbers, for gloating within oneself, and not throw the stats at another.  No, ma'am, I don't brag - I am very humble like the Sudha Murty of steel spoons and jasmine flowers fame.  Or, maybe humbler because I don't even carry spoons myself.  Nor sport jasmines in my fast thinning hair!

I am not a foodie, and do not desire to eat like a local when I travel. So, there is no desire to taste sturgeon roe, or whale or horse or any other meat.  Or the smelly blue cheese!  I might of course deign to partake the local spirits and cocktails though. Purely for cultural immersion and/or medicinal purposes, of course! Also, as an introvert, shy person, I don't even travel to make friends - either with other travellers or the local people.  If ever I have made friends while travelling, it solely would be because of the other person's effort, and none mine (imagine how desperate that person must be, to converse, and find and befriend a reticent, nerdy, old(ish) brown person).  So, why this obsession with travel? 

Growing up as a weak child left me with little active hobbies.  I developed reading as my favourite activity.  I would be caught reading at any point of time.  It also was a safety net - I didn't have to deal with bullying (which routinely happened thanks to my teeny-tiny size, back then). Parents had to scream, shout and shake me up to get my nose out of a book, and pay attention to them. When dad couldn't cajole, coax, or placate me to join any sport activity, he relented and bought books to quench my thirst to read more.  Mom didn't object to me reading all those serialised novels coming in the Kannada weeklies that we either got home, or borrowed from someone to read.  

Books that inspired me to read, dream, and travel

The first books that dad bought me were encyclopedia in Kannada, compiled/written by the Jnanapeetha Awardee, Shivaram Karanth. Not some random comics or storybooks for children. “If he’s not going to be active physically, let his brain learn something at least”, must have been his thoughts. Karanth played an important role in my quest for knowing things (knowing anything random, useful or otherwise), apart from making me want to see places.  

As a kid, the first two places that captured my imagination were Salto Angelo (Angel Falls) and the Amazon river.  Salto Angelo is the highest plunge waterfall in the world, which drops from a height of 916 metres. Later, these books stoked a fire in me to participate in quizzes.  So, the desire to see a snow crystal (there were pictures in the book), and stalagmites and stalactites, visit the Galápagos Islands where Darwin did his research for the ‘Origin of Species’ is what drove me to pursue travel as a hobby.  If it were affordable to enroll at SpaceX for a trip into the cosmos, I sure would have done by now.

While Karanth’s books made me imagine the greatness of the physical world vividly and make plans to visit them when I’d grow up, books of history and historical novels created awe and wonder about human creations. K V Iyer’s Roopadarshi made me travel the bylines of Rome and imagine the Sistine chapel and its glory, and his book on Shantala aroused a passion in me to see every Hoysala temple. Books on evolution of civilisations aroused curiosity about the pyramids and other remnants and ruins from the days long past. 

A rock formation somewhere near Manta Point, Bali Islands

However, travel didn't happen just like that after I became an adult.  I had to overcome difficulties that I had in my head - about seeing people in strange places, and deal with them.  It wasn't the same as waking up and going to work (in known, secure surroundings).  I had to find a way to bury the ghosts of past - of my fears of people, of being bullied, or physically assaulted. This sounds silly now as I am a stronger, bulkier man today, but there are times when I don't remember this, and still imagine myself as a puny little thing that needs to hide away. 

For example, the reasons I wanted to travel to Vietnam were because of its natural beauty; the Ha Long Bay, a UNESCO world heritage site was the primary reason.  Other UNESCO sites like Hue, Hoi An, and Ninh Binh too played a role.  What tipped the scale was my interest in international politics; the Vietnamese war with the Americans, which has figured in so many spy thrillers written by American novelists (usually jingoistic, and one which portrays Vietnamese in either bad light, or as people that needed to be rescued by the White men from the clutches of the big bad Communist wolves).  

Giant Malabar Squirrel, Dandeli

But, my writing would barely touch upon any of these places, how they were, and how I enjoyed being there, or what one must do to see them, etc.  Those inputs would be found all across the web and books and mags (imagine! Even in this digital age there are printed travel mags)! The idea of writing the travelogue is to share my experience of being in another country, and my observations of the places and people there, than describing the monuments (that you can find in umpteen places on the net).  And, all deductions are based on how people conducted - either as tour guides, as people who helped us with luggage, vendors, hotel staff, random strangers who chose to talk to us, and so on. As I said before, I am shy and I do not initiate conversations with people by myself, unless my life (or something close) depends on it.  Else, I mind my business; I even hate asking for directions, unless I am truly lost.  This reticent attitude has put me in danger several times, but I haven't yet learnt any lesson (will one day write about those experiences too, but this post is not about them). 

A Serene View of the Himalayas, somewhere in Tibet

When I was struggling with my life in 2018 post a breakup, I hit upon the idea of making a bucket list.  '50 things to do before I turn 50', was born out of my desperation to survive and get out of the depression that I had gotten myself into.  And, when I made that list, half the things I wanted to do pertained to travel (it helped me in the process of my recovery, apart from hitting the gym, and working out regularly).  This brush with depression also made me less taciturn, and helped me open up about myself with at least the close people in life - my sister (she was instrumental in this), partner, and a couple of close friends.  I didn't do all those 50 things (Covid too played a role in that), but it was terribly helpful to pursue them. They sure helped me stay sane and not turn cuckoo. 

Everyone collects souvenirs when they travel, I guess. “Even memories are souvenirs”, says my sagely partner. My dad keeps all the boarding passes of the travel the has done beyond the borders of India.  He too loves to travel, and enjoys visiting museums (takes copious notes of every exhibit, and comes back and tells everyone the stories of those exhibits). I even know of friends who plan a sex date in every country/city they visit, and keep the scores (yes, believe me, this isn't made up). You might even laugh at the souvenirs I pick up while I travel.  Just those fridge magnets, and nothing else.  I am not a hoarder, nor have any interest in curios, statuettes, or paintings (may be because they are expensive too). My mom is sure I bought a bigger fridge just to accommodate all my fridge magnets!  Collecting fridge magnets, to me, appears to be the extension of my hobby of philately while growing up.  Today I don't actively collect stamps (and I have safeguarded my collection of possibly over 5,000 stamps and first day covers from across the world; one of the few things I have managed to keep and not discard).  

Some of my souvenirs

Travels have helped me each for sure but there have been some bad experiences during too. And they also have taught me some important lessons (will possibly write a separate post on those).  Despite lessons, my spree of committing mistakes during travels continues (I find new ones, to be fair to myself)! As I have so much time to think (and not act) on my hands, I chose to write this long-winding piece of self-flagellation.  And, just share how much I miss travelling. 

  

Blind Birder’s Guide to Dandeli!

An Indian paradise flycatcher in flight

The Great Non-AC Escape

It was another "Harsha Special," and after missing the last two trips to Dandeli, I was determined not to let this one slip away. I readily agreed and even dragged Sambhu into the mix. Naturally, in true "me" fashion, I delayed booking until the very last second. This resulted in a charming journey via a non-AC sleeper bus, followed by an hour-long cab ride (bless Harsha for organizing that, or we’d probably still be on the side of the road).

Flame or ruby-throated bulbul. It is the state bird of Goa!

We arrived at the Old Magazine House early—far earlier than our upgraded suite was ready for us. However, any frustration was quickly muffled by a sumptuous breakfast and the sight of a small army of tripods already stationed at the bird-hide, looking like a metallic forest.

Malabar grey hornbill

Gear, Gadgets, and Forgetting Everything

The three-day workshop was under the Fuji banner, giving all participants access to some serious glass - including medium format cameras and some telephoto primes. Harsha led the workshop as Fuji’s brand ambassador. 

Grey jungle fowl is endemic to India. It is a protected species

I’ve known Harsha and Shweta for six years now. We have done several wildlife trips together, led by Harsha (including Masai Mara, Kenya). Association with Harsha extends beyond photography. There are other friends too - notably Sathya and Deva - but they weren’t part of this trip. 

Shweta and Harsha

Unfortunately, my packing skills haven’t improved with age. I managed to arrive without adequate memory cards and forgot my battery charger adapter. Harsha and Shweta stepped in to rescue me—a recurring theme in my life that I suspect hasn't seen its series finale just yet.

Red-breasted flycatcher

Also called a taiga flycatcher, it is a winter migrant to India. 

A Colorful Dilemma

To appreciate my love for birding, you have to understand my starting point. The first bird I ever photographed was a Magpie Robin; at the time, I didn't know its name, nor was I aware it existed. Before I started these trips, my avian classification system was simple: Crows, Sparrows, Chickens, Peacocks, and Swans. Everything in the water was a "Crane" (imagine my shock learning that's not a real catch-all term), and every raptor was an "Eagle."

Malabar trogon male

Malabar trogon female

To make matters more interesting, my vision is a disaster—I am both shortsighted and colorblind. It’s a bit like trying to solve a Rubik's cube in a dark room. My companions are incredibly patient saints who help me not just see where the bird is, but also point my lens in the right direction, for which I am eternally grateful. Thank God birds don't judge; they just sit there being majestic while I squint at them.

Indian blackbird. Belongs to the thrush family, and is known for a rich, flute-like song 

The Art of Sleeping In

On the day we arrived, the group headed to the local timber depot in pursuit of Hornbills. We didn't join them, and judging by their disgruntled faces when they returned bird-less, we hadn't missed much. We were supposed to join the second attempt the following morning, but the alarm clock lost the battle. When the "nature walk" call came at 7:00 AM, I politely declined in favor of my pillow.

In retrospect, laziness was my best tactical decision.

Orange-headed thrush

It is known for its vibrant colours and complex, melodious song

The Grand Prize

By skipping the depot and the nature walk, I was stationed at the hide when the Star Attraction appeared: the male Paradise Flycatcher. I have been chasing a glimpse of this elusive beauty for six years, ever since seeing Harsha’s photos. Seeing those long, flowing tail feathers in person right at the start of the day was worth every missed alarm and forgotten memory card.

Paradise flycatcher (male). Distinct for its flowing white tail feathers

The last day of the trip, Sayambhu and I headed to the timber depot in Dandeli. Surprise! There were tree-full of Malabar pied hornbills to see and and click. It’s another matter I missed clicking them while they took off into the skies, thanks to the speed at which I operate! We also managed to sight some owls and a couple of other birds while at the depot. 

Black naped monarch

It’s also called black-naped blue flycatcher 

Over the two days, we saw roughly twenty species, including various Flycatchers, three types of Hornbills, the Malabar Trogon, and the legendary Pitta. Along with clicking pics, we also made some new friends! 

Malabar pied hornbill

Hornbills are known to pair for life!

After a satisfying trip, we returned to Bengaluru by train—having already decided that if the train failed, we were simply going to flee to Goa and fly home. The best thing about the trip? Sayambhu picking up clicking skills like a past master. All pics of pittas and trogons are to his credit.  Left to me, I’d still be ruing that I couldn’t focus in time!

Indian pitta. Also called navrang because of its colourful feathers!

Birding trips are great to learn not just about birds, but the importance to preserve our nature, ecology, and earth. Any birding trip invariably teaches you loads of patience. Also, you realise that you have to click a few hundred pictures of each bird to get a few good ones! I wonder how those who clicked with film cameras managed back in those days!

White-bellied blue flycatcher

I’ve shared the pictures of birds from the trip all through this write-up! (Captured despite my best efforts to forget equipment). If you need any tips about a birding trip to Dandeli, reach out with a comment!

Jungle owlet, a variety of small owl 

The Resolution!

The office cafeteria was a graveyard of crumpled napkins and smears of chocolate frosting—the aftermath of the mandatory New Year’s cake-cutting ritual. Over tea and coffee that were getting colder by the minute, the conversation had inevitably turned into a competitive sport: the listing of New Year’s resolutions. “I want to travel to a different destination each month”, “This is the year of me working on my own start-up”, “I will get my music video out”!

Rati sat back, cradling her mug, watching the exchange with a quiet, persistent smile. She was a spectator to the noise rather than a part of it.

"Rati, you’re being suspiciously quiet," one colleague noted, pointing a stir-stick at her. "What’s on the grand agenda for the year? Or are your aspirations too high-profile to share with us?"

"She’s been sitting there like a sphinx while we’ve poured our hearts out," another added with a laugh. "Come on, spill."

Rati shifted, her shyness momentarily visible. "I only have one," she said softly. "To be happy."

There was a beat of silence, then a burst of skepticism. "That’s it? That’s a bit generic, isn't it? It’s like saying your resolution is to breathe."

"It is and it isn’t," Rati replied, finding her footing. "It’s been my resolution since last year, and I suspect it will be the only one I keep for the rest of my life."

"But how is that a resolution? Where’s the plan? The gym membership? The 'New Year, New Me' hustle?"

Rati took a deep breath, her gaze steadying. "Look, this might sound a bit philosophical—maybe even like a lecture—but if you’ll just hear me out..."

"Oh boy, here goes the Professor!" someone called out. The table erupted in good-natured groans and laughter. "The nerd is coming out to play!"

"Quiet, you lot," a friend interjected, leaning in. "I’m actually curious. Let her speak."

"I can't believe we're getting a sermon on January first," another whispered loudly.

“Let’s hear her out first! We could get to diss and dissect her afterwards!”

"Hem, hem!"

"Fine, fine! I’m all ears now. Maybe it’ll cure the hangover."

"Or give us a fresh one!"

The table dissolved into another round of chaos—people talking over one another, lighthearted ribbing, and the genuine, messy sound of friends enjoying a moment of shared irreverence.

Rati didn’t cut them off. She simply watched the laughter ripple across the table, the way her friends leaned into each other, and the bright energy of the room. When the noise finally dipped into a small lull of expectation, she didn’t deliver a speech.

She simply gestured to their smiling faces.  "This," Rati said, her smile widening. "This is what I meant. My resolution."

Shunted But Not Shaken: Your Guide To Handle An Exile

 

A colleague called me out of the blue. I was buried under work, so I gave them the classic professional "rain check."

"Sure Sir. I will wait for your call," they said, with the kind of ominous politeness that suggests something is up.

When I finally called them back, they were at lunch with friends. "Sir, I’ve received my transfer orders. I need to talk. But right now, I’m drowning my sorrows in biryani. Will call you this evening."

The news was - as expected - unpleasant: they were being uprooted from the lush, craft-beer-filled comforts of Bengaluru and shunted to the back-of-beyond boondocks. Their pleas for reconsideration had been met with the bureaucratic equivalent of "Do I know you?" The powers-that-be told her they had been in the city too long. Their replacement had already arrived, bags packed and hovering, leaving them no choice but to pack their own.

"Sir, you were exiled to the Andamans for two years," they said, voice betraying the emotion. "I need tips on how to manage the wilderness. I’ve been almost in tears since the letter arrived."

As they spoke, I drifted back to my own "vacation" in Port Blair. My transfer hadn’t cared about my parents’ health or my own post-surgery recovery. The System, I realized, is a blind machine—unless you know which gears to grease with networking.

I shook off the memories and told them, "Buckle up. I have a few tips." Here is the survival guide for the Reluctantly Relocated:

1. Work up a “Brave Face”

First impressions are like superglue—they stick. Do not land at your new station looking like you’re entering a funeral procession. It sends the wrong signal to your new peers. You don’t have to pretend you’ve won the lottery, but you shouldn't look like you’ve lost a limb either.

When I landed in Port Blair, I told people: "Look, this wasn’t my first choice, but I’m here, I’m ready, and if it wasn't me, some other poor soul would be standing here. So, let’s get to work."

Day 1 in Andaman. Watching the sunset from the guesthouse window!

2. Friendly Networking 

When you’re a consultant in a new organization, you need allies. You cannot let your "Transfer Anger" spill over into your emails or work files. You need people to support you when chips are down or when you need to host the bosses from Delhi.

I have always been lucky in this department all through my career’s tough days. In Vizag, it was Laxman and Praveen. In Bengaluru, I had Sirish, and in Jammu, it was Manish and Shahbaz. Kolkata had the sanctuary of Choten and Jaidev. In Port Blair, Senthil and Dilip - the officers in Andaman then - welcomed me with open arms . Even Abhi, a friend from my 2012-14 Bengaluru days, had moved back to Port Blair and became my evening anchor. Even the Chief of Staff, Admiral Sandhu, ensured my office after a much-needed facelift in no time. When the Secretary came calling, she was impressed with how we welcomed her, and sanctioned more money to spruce up the workplace on the spot! 

Pro-tip: Make friends with the people who have the keys to the kingdom.

Saviours and I. 

3. Work Like You Mean It

Never let your displeasure reach your keyboard. Ensure those files leave the table before a phone call comes enquiring the status; take quick but judicious decisions. Weigh your words before you record your dissent. Make plans to improve. Write letters of progress. Pay attention to your team’s spirits. 

Vent to your pillow, your dog, or a trusted bartender but never into your files or PPTs. Show them you mean business, even if your heart is 2,000 miles away. 

Happily posing in my cabin!

4. Play The Explorer 

If you’re stuck in a remote location, you might as well see the sights. I turned the Andamans into my personal bucket list. I trekked to Saddle Peak (the highest point in the islands, and the northernmost too), stared at India’s only active volcano at Barren Island, and explored the seas until I was more fish than man.

Indira Point, Saddle Peak, Hut Bay, and Chidia Tapu (clockwise)

I can now casually drop into conversations that I’ve been to Indira Point, the southernmost tip of India, released baby leatherback turtles into the sea, and seen the Sentinel Islands from close distance.  Can your Bengaluru friends say that between their traffic jams? Probably not.

5. Hobbies: The Antidote to Insanity

Weekends in the "wilderness" can be hauntingly quiet. I learned the hard way in Jammu and Kashmir that if you don't have a hobby, the walls start talking to you.

I picked up swimming, kept running, and restarted my blog. I even began writing short stories. I also continued photography, though the Andaman humidity tried its best to turn my expensive lenses into expensive terrariums for mold.

6. Build a “Second Home”

Your family will miss you, and the guilt can be heavier than your luggage. You can’t fly home every month unless you’ve discovered a secret gold mine, so do the next best thing: make your new home so nice that they want to visit you.  

When I shared the news with friends and family of my transfer, I had some interesting questions thrown at me. “Do you need a passport and a visa to visit?” Well, Andaman Islands are a part of our country, and here these much literate people were playing ignorant! “Would you get to meet the cannibals there? I read a news that a Christian pastor was hunted and cooked over the skewers!” I could think of no comeback to that. 

I believe through my valiant efforts, I have dispelled several such fantasies from the visitors’ minds (may be to their disappointment). I had a record number of visitors in the Andamans. Parents, uncles, erstwhile colleagues, school friends, college buddies and even long-lost exes, all descended upon me. It turns out people are very happy to maintain a friendship if it includes a free guided tour of a tropical island.

Some of my visitors in the islands!

7. Leave a Legacy for Yourself

Don’t just serve time; leave a mark. When you look back, you should be able to proudly relate a tale or two to your folks, on a rainy day over some hot tea (or a nice drink). 

In the Andamans, my office was a cramped corner of someone else's building. I pushed, pulled, and liaised until we got a place of our own. I couldn’t  make the ribbon-cutting happen, but I know my erstwhile team is getting it done now. And, sure they all feel proud about what we collectively achieved. 

8. Don’t Kick the Dog 

Rule of life: Never pick a fight with someone who can’t fight back. If you’re feeling salty, take it up with someone your own size—or the boss. Never rant at the people doing the menial jobs. If the tea is cold, be gentle. People remember how you treated them long after they forget the dinner you hosted for them at the New Year’s.

9. Manage the "Moody Blues"

There’s a marketing rule: "If you like something, you tell four people; if you hate it, you tell twenty." Negativity is a parasite. In remote postings, you have too much "me time" to ruminate on perceived hurts.

If you don’t check your angst, it turns into depression. When you feel the spiral starting, take a walk by the sea/mountain/valley, sing a song, or cook a meal. And a word of advice from the trenches: Stay away from that bottle of when you’re seething. Angry drinking just leads to a headache and more anger.

The joy of surviving!

That’s my survival kit. It’s not a magic wand, but it’ll keep you sane until the next transfer cycle rolls around. To anyone else who has been "shunted" to the corners of the map: what helped you survive? I’m all ears!