Another Himalayan Trip

BOM-NDLS-KLK-SML-DEHURI-MANDI-REWALSAR

This Saturday afternoon was not a lazy one after all. We had to pack our bags with necessities other than food, enough to last at least for ten days, board the evening flight to the capital and then, embark the northerly journey.  The flight arrived later than scheduled at Delhi Airport (T3) and there was a connecting train (HWH-KLK Mail) to catch from Old Delhi Station (Chandni Chowk) within an hour. Thanks to Aerocity Metro and some quick decisions, we could dodge the big queue in NDLS (Delhi Metro) to arrive at Old Delhi-Chandni Chowk, from where there was this train to Kalka (Haryana). As usual for Indian Railways, HWH-KLK Mail was not so express after all and it did arrive two hours late entering the station like a sloth. It took six to seven hours to reach Kalka, from where there runs a toy-train (narrow-gauge) to Shimla. However, being unable to book two tickets in any of the connecting toy-trains, we had to content ourselves with a cab till the Mall road in Shimla. The cabs till Shimla usually cost around 1500-1800 rupees for 90 kms, but one has to check with hotel reception about the proximity point where the cab can drop you, else there might be a longer climb uphill on foot. The advantage was that a cab can save around two and half hours from the journey time. The toy-trains run in excess of five hours to reach the point from where one has to take a taxi and then a public lift to reach the mall road. Cars are not allowed until certain points in Shimla. However, the cab ride from Kalka to Shimla with two brief tea-breaks took us through scenic mountains, copious amounts of unadulterated air, a bit of drizzle, a surprisingly speeding yellow Nano ascending through the mountain roads  and lush green slopes everywhere else. An ensemble of motley of colours of the trees did fill our hearts with wonder. Having booked our stay at a hotel we found it quite frequented by British tourists. The climb towards the hotel was a bit steep till the ground level from where one has to take a lift till the 4^th level, where the reception was located. The people at reception could understand our fatigue due to the arduous journey and promptly took us to the waiting room, till our allotted room was checked-out and cleaned.

Shimla

After breakfast and a brief nap, walking along the mall road sometimes climbing a few uphill diversions, we reached the Viceregal Lodge, Shimla. The walk took us around an hour and a half through many army cantonments, shops, buildings and streets. Passing the market places, The Gaiety Theatre, The Town Hall, it seemed as if we have waded right through history, as in Rudyard Kipling’s stories. The Viceregal Lodge did house the Viceroys of British India, Mountbatten being the last. The Shimla Agreement was signed there. It looks splendid in size, construction and design perhaps since the British era, with the tri-colour fluttering above it instead of the Union Jack. Next was a guided tour through history, inside the giant mansion and we were introduced to walnut ceilings, 100-year old piano, ambitiously high chairs of the Viceroys among other things. The German switches and the wax-sealed fire-sprinkler system are said to work till date, since the 1880s. The architectural flamboyance seemed to be centred upon English Renaissance intertwined with the construct of Castles of Scotland. Interior designs of the mansion constitutes of dark Burmese Teak supplemented with walnut and cedar wood. As the tour-guide told us, post independence it was renamed to Rastrapati Niwas (Presidential Residence) and later made IIAS (Indian Institute of Advanced Study) dedicated to academic research in the field of humanities and sciences. However, the most difficult part was of course the return walk. With some dinner, I did drop dead on bed and didn’t wake up until 9:30 am on the next morning.

This was the second day at Shimla and the plan was to go downhill to buy some woollens in the chilly Shimla wind, for we did not carry any. Then we took a local tour to nearby Kufri Valley and other places. It was around 15 kms from the Mall Road. Booking an independent cab cost us 600 rupees, instead of taking the local bus tour. Realizing that a lot of money could be saved and the independence of choice of places and duration of visit, made us take a cab. We paid short visits to Kufri, Fagu Valley and a local zoo near Fagu. While climbing up a small mountain in Kufri, it gradually unveiled a sequence of mountains till the snow-capped Shivaliks, with a splendid assortment of vibrant wildflowers down the green valleys. The white snow-caps, were preceded by brown mountain ranges with minimal vegetation and in turn ran the green ones with dense vegetation of pine and cedar trees, like the one on which we were standing. Clouds could be seen drifting beyond the valley, kissing the snow-caps as if the mountains were breathing white smoke. Taking some snaps we then took the car towards Fagu valley, the actual spot being at a distance 3.5 kms upslope, off the main road. Either you can brave the muddy terrain of 3-4 kms on foot, else you take a pony ride. Two ponies cost us around 800 rupees, but the ride through mud and mountains was worth it. The only intimidating part of the pony ride was that these Himalayan ponies preferred ledges in the mountain slopes rather than the main road. So, if you come back alive, you might be able to fight acrophobia with panache. 

Once we reached the top, there was a plethora of activities going on starting from sliding down the rope-way, photo-shoot with garments custom to hill-folk, taking ‘On the Yak’ pictures while holding a unloaded airgun (which some even held in a sniping stance) on awfully bored animals with minimal emotions to walking down quietly up and down the slopes and taking pictures, which we did. It was amusing to watch people posing for a world-war soldier portrait on the back of a yak, sometimes with that of a sniper’s eloquence. Had people really done this in the past wars, the side that would have used yaks as transport would have definitely lost.  In a span of an hour with some maggi noodles, it was time to return downhill, again on those two ponies. The ride was like intermittent jumps on the ledges and it seemed that the ponies were more eager to come downhill than us. After the bumpy ride, it seemed like Petrificus Totalus, a full body bind curse of Harry Potter eminence. The village boy handling the ponies shouted, “Keep leaning backwards, else you might reach downhill before your pony.”

Later on, there was a nearby zoo (in Fagu valley) having some Himalayan deer, leopards, bears (both black & brown) and pheasants among others. It was on our way back to the Mall Road, when we went through the famed Lakad Bazar of  Shimla, where beautiful handmade wooden-crafts are available at throw-away prices. Once these reach cities like Mumbai, the decimal point usually erases itself. From there, we went to Ladakh handloom & khadi shop where varieties of shawls, stoles made out of Pashmina wool were available at quite decent rates. The salesman explained some rent-a-blanket with exclusive gifts concept to us and showed us a few newspaper articles on the killing of the Chingu goat, the goat that rears pashmina wool. We got a stole with some pashmina wool in it and thankfully post the pashmina ring-test. Somewhere else, having heard the concept of rent-a-blanket being fraudulent and fake, so we didn’t want to take a chance on it. Then it was time to go back to the hotel and get some rest for an eventful morning, for the next destination was a remote village in the Himalayan valleys.

Tirthan Valley

A very hasty breakfast, a hurried cab-ride to the bus-stand with only 30 minutes to spare, and finally boarding the bus that kind of has a precise departure time the country, got our day started. It was a Tata AC bus run by H.R.T.C. The drive was northwards to a place 20-25 kms from Mandi. The way to the village Dehuri, was connected by a side-road near the tunnel of Aut, which is incidentally the longest road tunnel in India (NH-21, 3 kms).  The bus journey lasted around 8 hrs through places like Bilaspur, Sundernagar, Mandi and Pandoh with a fleeting tiredness perhaps induced due to the freshness of pure-air. Then, from the start of the Aut tunnel, we took a tourist vehicle which was booked by the Riverside Resort at Tirthan Valley. The journey made us muse through everything associated with the wild mountains and valleys – the mountain goats, the cow-herds, the fire-wood collecting girls with their big straw baskets, the quiet landscape, the gushing crystalline water of Tirthan river below and finally we could believe our luck. Everyone seemed to be at peace carrying our their chores with a pleasant smile, even the Sun was gentle and the wind was kind. Amazing is the illusion of success, which can turn even kindred spirits into demons of avarice and vanity. After around two hours, we reached the resort right in the lap of Himalayas in the middle of nowhere but mountains. Between the resort and the road, surged the pristine water of Tirthan river, and the two sides were connected by a rope-way carrying a small basket. Manually operated through nylon ropes and iron loops from both sides, the basket could carry at most one adult person at a time. The slow but gradual basket ride, the chilling breeze, the  flood of swift pristine water below did stimulate a sense of unwavering calm. There was an intriguing ropeway to reach the resort.

                              A fling of cheery weariness did creep in later, once we had satiated our mouths and hearts with soupy maggi noodles and spice-tea, sitting beside the gushing water of Tirthan, a sound resonating with innocence. The faith of Hill-folk on the Hindu Trinity of Brahma, Vishnu & Shiva pervades the entire atmosphere, right from those images in buses to the numerous small temples among the hills, and perhaps the basis of entire lives of these men and women.  And these people do seem quite resistant to ageing without using any of our anti-ageing creams.

 

                  The caretaker along with his wife managed the resort. We had delicious home cooked dinner prepared by Bhuvan’s wife. Night had crept in silently, our tired muscles got relaxed into a world of dreams, when the outer world had already painted an exquisite portrait for our eyes.  Next morning, we decided to take a trek to a nearby waterfall, which would be around 4-5 kms uphill. With a comfortable pace, one can reach the waterfall in two hours. Quite surprisingly a mountain dog followed us at first and then afterwards, led the way to the waterfall through a major part of the trek. As we climbed up towards the source of the waterfall, the village settlements diminished gradually unveiling clusters of amazing settlements which vividly complemented the scenic mountains, the background view of Jalodi snow caps, the curvaceous roads and intermittent herds of white furry goats and sheep. Various birds like Himalayan swifts, russet sparrows would materialize and vanish instantaneously, leaving their twitters echoing among the trees.

Sometimes we had to cross a series of houses by narrow plain dirt roads, sometimes jump between ledges to go uphill. The views seemed to be taken right out of an artist’s canvas, the colours seemed to be vibrant and the pristine air dismissed tiredness without much pomp. As the images would say for themselves, you might  end up yearning for a house among these mountains. Once we reached the waterfall, spending some time on the nearby rocks silently gazing at the radiant flowers, the fall of the stream and listening to the sounds of those little birds, evoked a sense of longing for the life in the hills. Then around 3:00 pm we started our descent and reached the resort in an hour. Energy is one’s friend during ascent but when one descends down the slope, one has to adopt caution. Once we reached the resort, lunch was served which included home-made chappatis, yellow dal, aloo-gobi fry. Aloo-ke-paranthe breakfast was perhaps the best thing one could have up there. Meanwhile, it had already started to drizzle with a chilling breeze and a greyish shade started enveloping the area. For the next morning, we had a cab-booking till Mandi and Rewalsar, post which we had to reach Chandigarh or Kalka. (The cab cost till Rewalsar was Rs.2500)

Rewalsar

A three-hour journey from Tirthan Valley began with an ineffable coloured chaos among the white-studded mountains along the breezing sound of the meandering river Tirthan. Rain had stopped and the Sun had started taking steady command. Passing by places where an occasional waterfall complemented the mountain-decor, series of lively houses stepped up along the mountains, we finally reached Mandi in two and half hours. Rewalsar is a hill city at a scaling of 24 kms from Mandi. The whole city is like a fort built around a lake known by the name of Tso Pema Lotus Lake which is abundant with both fishes and reed. There are three Buddhist monasteries, Temples of Lord Krishna and Lord Shiva and a Gurudwara among the hills surrounding the lake. The lake is said to be mystically created from ashes when the great teacher Padmasambhava also known as Guru Rimpoche among Buddhists, had been put through the flames of a pyre along with King Vihardhara’s daughter Mandarava. From the flames, he was seen dancing on a lotus flower that had emerged out of the newly-created lake along with Mandarava. Guru Rimpoche’s spirit is said to reside in a tiny island of floating reed.  It’s said that wishes of the one who circles around the lake comes true, due to the grace of Guru Rimpoche. We found an ensemble of colourful Buddhist prayer-flags hung beside the lake, which are said to represent each of the Five Pure Lights. (Blue - sky and space, White - air and wind, Red - fire, Green - water, and Yellow – Earth).

Later, we entered one of the monasteries, but the doors were locked for lunch session. One of the monks compassionately opened the doors when he saw us waiting in front of the door, and thus allowing us to have a gratifying glimpse of the Buddha. Two monks were kind enough to explain us the forces revered in Buddhist philosophy, in an adjunct praying area. After having lunch at a local restaurant in the lake-town, we finally journeyed back to the town of Mandi through a majestic view of snow-clad Shikari Devi mountains dancing among the clouds.

From Mandi, we took a rickety H.R.T.C bus to Chandigarh at 4:30 pm which reached at around 1 am in Chandigarh bus-stand. And it was the end of our beloved Himalayan trip and time to come back to mortal senses.

The Pilot Custom Heritage 92 Review

I am not sure whether you too will get a Custom Heritage 92 (CH92) after falling intensely in love with a Custom 74 model. Many reviews do reveal this graduation of Pilot Love. Although my love for pilot pens can be absolutely blamed on genes. Initially, the CH92 were released as clear demonstrators around October 2010, sporting a #5 rhodiated nib. Since it was 92 years after the company’s inception (i.e. 1918), it does carry the first two digits of the model number as ‘92’ and the third digit which is by default ‘1’ usually refers price at launch of a pilot pen (i.e 1 X JPY 10,000).  However, there is a minor deviation here, the price at launch was JPY 15,000, since the Custom 74 was already priced at JPY 10,000. The coloured versions were released two years later in 2012. 

The CH92 (for the Asian market) comes packaged in a standard pilot gift box (Z-CR-GN) which may not be able to draw any attention, but the pen definitely does. I just fell in love with the ocean blue colour. The simplistic yet elegant design sustains the traditional functionalities in a modern garb. Definitely with the times, the ‘asa-gao’ ocean blue transparent body says everything about itself. Asagao refers to a bluish flower which is more commonly known as Japanese Morning Glory.  It also comes in Sunset Orange (Yu-yake), Smoke (Kirisame) colours. The box carries a user manual for a Type S fountain pen. 

DESIGN - THE COLOURED DEMONSTRATORS (6/6)

The CH92 comes in four standard designs of transparency - Blue, Orange, Smoke and Clear resin, all in silver trims. The resin material feels strong though not substantial like the Custom 823. Initially I went for the Asa-Gao Blue with medium nib which wrote beautifully, and I could not resist getting another. The second one was another Asa-Gao then a Yu-Yake Sunset Orange.

The demonstrators given their lightness, are capable of refracting even a tiny bit of light, while a silver shimmer running across the centre band along with the clip creates a photogenic contrast. The smoky finials at the cap along with the piston knob conclude its design.

The cap is light and unscrews with little more than a turn, revealing the dazzling nib. The grip section is moulded from the same smoky transparent resin as the finial (cap) and knob, with a metal ring segregating, the grip from the barrel. And its transparency does reveal the inside works of the piston mechanism.

The cap does mention a few things etched across a lower centre band, including the model name CUSTOM HERITAGE 92 and PILOT JAPAN. I somehow miss the stars in the other custom series pens. An apparently segregate band above (although its part of the centre band only), renders some differential aesthetics to the overall design. The clip is tension-fit and has the shape of the double-edged Japanese sword Tsurugi.

The subtle gradient created by the transparent body, along with the smoky black grip, finial (cap) and piston-knob sections converge the rhodium sheen to render a well-orchestrated symphony of colours. No component individually would seem as stupendous as the complete pen.

FILLING SYSTEM (6/6)

A small but remarkably efficient piston knob unscrews from the metal ring to a quick end stop. And it does go the distance when the knob is screwed back on by filling the barrel upto a volume of 1.2 - 1.3 mL. The outer connector of the piston mechanism consists of a metal unit fastened to a inner plastic unit, and it can be disengaged with a TWSBI wrench (7mm) as shown here by Hari. This  helps add weight to pen and ensures that a metal wrench meets metal and thereby does not cause undue damage.

Cleaning the pen is a similar ritual accompanied by some shake. If there is some remnant ink left at the end of grip section, it’s an easy clean. You can repeatedly fill and flush the pen with the grip section dipped inside a bowl of water, or you can just remove the friction fit nib-unit and clean the insides with a soft damp cloth.

NIB - ALL THAT MATTERS (6/6)

The nib is friction-fit and comes in a standard 14k rhodiated design across four stock widths - F, FM, M & B. The nib has the standard pilot design.

 The tail end of the nib specifies the month and year of manufacture. An elongated hexagonal imprint separates the design from the outer shoulders and tines with an arabesque decor running inside its circumference, encompassing the circular breather hole in between. 

The branding and nib specifications of PILOT, 14k-585 (58.5% Au Alloy) along with the nib size and width, which are imprinted below the breather hole.

A standard bluish grey plastic feed with moderately spaced fins and a decently sized feeder hole delivers the amazing ink suction.

PHYSICS OF IT (5/6) – RELATIVELY SPEAKING

With a translucent resin body in form of a truncated cigar, it does give a comfortable feel of posted length. The cap weighs 8 grams. It’s a comfortable grip section with around 1 cm diameter.  Un-posted, its gives a lacking feeling of both length and weight. 

• Uncapped Length ~ 12 cm
• Posted Length ~ 15 cm
• Nib Leverage ~ 1.9 cm
• Overall Weight ~ 20 g

Capped, uncapped and posted comparisons with a few similar pens like the Custom 74 and the Pelikan m605 go below for your reference.

ECONOMIC VALUE(6/6)

The CH92 retails at around USD 220, and as usual it’s available at lower street prices towards a band of USD 130-140. I had bought the first pen at a cost of USD 130, and the subsequent ones at lower prices. Since pilot has stopped production of these coloured versions for some time now (as per two Japanese retailers), online retailers are selling off their leftover stock quite cheaply, getting as low as USD 110, to clear off old stock. May be Pilot is coming up with a new piston filler, who knows!

OVERALL (5.8/6)

This 14k nib has a smooth and wet flow. The nib is sturdy and does not have any line variation. It may lack the bit of softness and spring of a Custom 74 nib, but that’s purely my experience. There is absence of any significant variation among the horizontal and vertical strokes. These wet lines take almost 15 secs to dry a Visconti Blue Ink on MD paper.

Here are the adorable articles on Pilot CH92 which I referred: Hari & Losepus

Thank you for going through the review. Hope you enjoyed it.

More pen and paraphernalia reviews here.

Heisenberg’s Paradox

A German theoretical physicist known by the name of Werner Heisenberg, sometime in 1927 espoused one of the primal principles of life, the unparalleled axiom of Causality, in the sphere of sub-atomic matter. And he was finally seen walking out with the Nobel Prize for Physics, that too, within half a decade. Though it was not as easy as it seems here. You do not get awarded with a Nobel Prize for doing nothing, for that you do have Annual Awards at your workplace. 

Coming back to Heisenberg, for a lazy mind like myself, there is a prevailing inclination to think, “Why on earth or hell, do I need to know the speed or position of a particle, which I can’t even see in this or any other lifetime!” and maybe “You little quark, to hell with you.” And as for the latter, my guess is that, my boss thinks the same of me. The theory is causal both in its nature and intent. To measure the position of a particle, you have to affect its speed (you hit it with a photon and God knows what else) and thus the speed you would measure would be the post-collision one. The cause in question is locating the particle and the effect is a change in its velocity. 

                       Newton had applied this philosophy in his third law of motion and mango people like us knowingly or unknowingly apply this principle daily in our lives. Especially in Mumbai, auto-wallahs and taxi bhaiyas can be hailed as supreme masters of Newtonian physics. By applying any or all of his three laws sometimes simultaneously in any given interval of time (also called delta t), these Newtonian masters register a yet greater rate of application than their own respiration rates. Had they studied these laws a bit further upon, they would have most probably ended up in some lonely cubicle, applying the same set of laws but in a different manner with a perhaps higher degree of sophistication like silent incantations under breath, commenting and liking blogs without any legible content and sometimes even daring to dream beyond IIMs, thanks to ponytail. And in the latter case, the general populace and more importantly their kinfolk would have been mercifully spared from the Effect set, promptly replaced by their bosses and by people who do not have to sit in cubicles but have the long nose to make others sit. 

Even at-first perplexed freshers from various graduate and post-graduate streams, who chose the haven of Bollywood over lesser known cities, to catch one glimpse of a certain Bollywood diva, imbibe these laws pretty quickly. They would be seen in local trains, deftly whistling and kissing around (only flying ones, stationary ones can still land you up at the nearest police-station), which is usually taken as a semaphore for letting sub-atomic movement in a crowd. The intensity read desperation and the cadence of whistling/kissing can be directly proportional to the time by which one thinks one is late to work. Therefore at most of the workplaces, the early bird award usually goes to the person arriving at office just before noon, which otherwise cannot be shared with the office boy. Going by departments, it seems that the HR department (barring a few losers who have a quite pervasive presence across continents) follows the laws of thermodynamics rather than the laws of motion. Here the exception is the absence of any effect but a whole lot of causes. Yes it does defy many laws, but you see causes engender further causes and it goes on and on. People who are usually so busy, that it becomes difficult impossible for them to locate even themselves in their own cubicles after 5:00 pm. And they share the lion’s share of organizational work. Organizational Change and Development, Leadership Programmes and all such gingerly designed programmes take bulk of their working hours both in designing and implementation. In consonance with the zeroth law of thermodynamics, these designs remain in equilibrium with each other and also with their heads, probably later with their graves too. If one of those designs on a rare occasion tries to spout itself out, it’s made to delve into another form of energy as per the first law of thermodynamics. It’s called process improvement and it’s cost can exceed the next five years of remuneration of the entire department.

There is yet another department which closely resembles the thermodynamics department but is elementally very different. Even Erwin Schrodinger’s equation with all his partial derivatives, cannot completely explain the laws governing this one. For they are neither particles nor waves. They are admin. From your flights abroad to your flights to the loo, they cover the entire spectrum. They research on your telephone calls, coffee, conveyances and even the amount of tissues that you could have used in the loo. Given these grounds, most of them would have got a Nobel Prize for welfare economics. They manage costs, not just the checks and balances but the allocations and de-allocations too. You would probably have loved them too.

Love thy neighbour and thy colleagues even more.

Another Chilikan Sail

Coordinates              19°43′N 85°19′E
Lake type                   Brackish
Primary inflows           35 streams including Bhargavi, Daya, Makra, Malaguni, Nuna
Primary outflows        Old mouth-Arakhakuda, New mouth-Satapada to Bay of Bengal
Catchment area          3,560 km²
Countries                    India
(Source: Wikipedia Commons)

A scorching mid-summer morning buttressed with a subtle yet pervasively lethargic demeanour in addition to a limited extravagance of time; lost all odds to a rather willful birthday wish, setting six of us on course to a memorable visit to Chilika Lake, the brackish water lagoon along the eastern coast of Odisha. As per web sources, it is the largest coastal lagoon in India and the second largest on the entire planet after Laguna Ojo de Liebre on the Pacific coast of Mexico. Serving as a summer resort to over a hundred and sixty species of migratory birds from plethora of faraway stretches, ranging from Caspian Sea, Lake Baikal, Aral Sea to other remote parts of Russia, Kirghiz steppes of Mongolia, Central and Southeast Asia, Ladakh and the Himalayas; it subsists around one hundred fifty thousand fishermen. Also, home to around a hundred and fifty rare and endangered Irrawaddy Dolphins, a few of which, did catch our eye during their magical jump to glamour and glitz.

                                                                  The journey towards the new mouth of Lake Chilika better known by the name of Satapada, from the temple city of Bhubaneswar comprised a distance of 106 kms by road, through the holy shrine of Lord Jagannath’s birthplace i.e Puri. The road was lined with lush green outfields on either side with remarkable golden sheen of fresh paddy harvest. Embraced by high and elegant coconut palms akin to sentries standing guard, along its perimeter the path appealed majestically. We made a brief stop during the journey, to relish some fresh coconut milk from one of the roadside vendors who was still disappointed with the bargained sale. Seasonal flowers adorning the path throughout the curvature, emphasized the mystic elegance of a sojourn in more colourful ways than the rainbow itself. The scenic landscape kept evolving with the grazing of cows, the ablution of buffaloes in roadside canals and the solitary activities of farmers tending to their crops. It took around three hours to reach the region of Satapada, which actually signifies convergence of Chilika with the Bay of Bengal. It was once a modern human effort to improve the estuarine eco-system of the lake.

Having historically significant antecedents for being a major harbour for maritime commerce (around 209 – 170 BC), when Kharavela, the King of Kalinga was also known as the Lord of Sea. Wonder what people would have called him, had he ruled Sri Lanka. Brahmanda Purana, also mentions Chilika Lake as an important part of trade system where ships set sail to kingdoms of Java, Malaya, Singhala and China among others. The people even in the cities adjacent to Chilika Lake still observe an annual festival called Bali Yatra commemorating the symbiotic relationship of trade and commerce with neighbouring countries through nautical routes. These days, it commemorates mass appetite rather than just commerce and you can do a ‘window-gorging’ on the nearly infinite array of diverse food being sold and served on this occasion.

On reaching the quay in Satapada, we pre-ordered lunch for everyone in one of the restaurants and hired a family-type boat for Rs. 1800. Later, we found that the lunch would cost us even more. These family boats have a typically native wooden construct, with coarse and unfinished planks of wood, both for keeping the boat afloat and making passengers sit. A leather cushion may have been provided on the plank, so that it hurts a little less once you take your place, unless of course you have completely overwhelmed the BMI barriers. And yes, that little flimsy piece of cushion sways with the breeze. The only thing that has some machinery on the boat, is a small cantankerous diesel engine which can break all sound barriers within moments of ignition. The rotor blades are the only companions which make the boat go a wee bit faster than normal human swimming speed. And also with some persistent request, the boatmen did bequeath us with a torn and shiny tarpaulin to create a shed against the glare of the afternoon Sun.  Aesthetics of these boat might have crazy shortfalls in almost all aspects, but once you embark it, the icy breeze and the pulsating water will make you forget everything else. And believe it or not, the ride was wonderful.

                                                             The second part of the journey was on water, with brief and enjoyable halts at different places. Small islands, famous for sightings of bright red crabs, which were nowhere to be found; different species of birds that swayed with the wind, seagulls with their usual acrobatics and Great Egrets with their unusual concentration to carry on with their eternal activity of aiming, catching and eating fishes. The Great Egret has its sole destiny centered on, standing still for hours and allowing some unfortunate fish to come within striking distance of its bill, which it will then use as a spear to kill and devour the underdog. Through the mists of the breathless wind, the boat crossed stretches of small hills, small independent settlements of fishing-folks and thousands of birds including the greedy Great Egrets. Then it advanced towards a stretch of a lake, which somehow appealed to Irrawaddy Dolphins, in particular. Only one or two of the one hundred and sixty did care to show their flat-nosed mocking face after a still water wait of around 20-25 minutes and after shutting down the cankerous engines. Then we advanced on our voyage towards the sea mouth, where the lake plunges into the Bay of Bengal. The high tides at the dusky horizon gleamed with an amazing epilogue which is quite impossible to capture with even a powerful lens. This was a conclusive part of sojourn with six weary travellers growing impatient with the available potato chips and finally disembarking the boat to hurry towards the overpriced restaurant for having the pre-ordered overpriced lunch. Hunger improved the taste and presence of close ones made it fun. A day which engendered pure fun and frivolity, made us feel content and joyous with a sense of adventure, discovery and merriment.