Wintry Delights

Seasons change. You grow. Learn. Laugh. Play. Work.

Change is a part of everybody’s life. As I have mentioned in my previous post, some things in my life have seen a slight change, without any specific reason..... but even though my priorities have seen a shift as I grow, I’m glad that a few traits have remained safe with me, as individually pleasing as they have always been. The thirst to explore, enjoy, rejuvenate, and draw endless inspiration from the great outdoors is here to stay, and I harass my capacities to the maximum, just to thrill myself occasionally with my outdoors explorations. I find endless delight in the most inexplicable things, and often, they are so simple that it becomes quite impossible to believe that anything like some good misty rain or a distant sea gull’s call is all it takes to make my day. Turning a silent observer who does nothing more than watch nature play has become an addictive habit to the illogical dreamer in me.

Every journey is an exploration. The uncertainty factor that accompanies each journey is just as much as thrilling as the very experience itself. Every journey might be rigorously planned. But what you encounter along the way, you cannot ascertain with absolute accuracy, and as it turns truly unpredictable, the thirst to discover increases tenfold. I knew I was going to Lake Tahoe. There would be Snow. We would stay by Reno, in a hotel. It would possibly continue snowing. We would go snowmobiling. I would get to watch the lake….although I knew that these were to be expected, I knew that it would include more than just that. The weather foreshadowed something enchanting, and the winds held the same promise. So as we moved on, and it began snowing, I let my experience throw its surprises for me. To go engulf yourself in an experience without a fair idea of what it’s going to be has been one of my persisting habits, one which I’m planning never to get rid of....it allows me to accept and enjoy experiences as they come.

Snow was always an integral part of my most vibrant of fantasies. As a kid, I conjured up snow from thermo coal, when the summers turned a little too unbearable…and that’s another story which is reserved for another leisurely recital. Snow enchanted because it was never within my reach and I grew up walking in winter wonderlands in my countless dreams….and my love for the colder, cooler and wetter clime has never diminished.

"On wintry day, as I drove,
on mountainous terrain, on deserted road,
from the clouds, the moon emerged,
and my paradise was rediscovered. "

The words spinned in my head and grew more defined as I whizzed away towards another impending holiday experience. I lulled myself into a reverie, my thoughts moving without a tail, but my eyes constantly registering. As we moved, I gazed at horizons, rolling pastures, and other cars on the freeway full of cheerful holiday goers. Life felt beautiful. A nice long 6 hour drive gives you just the sort of time to reflect, relish, enjoy and just be yourself.

The skies were a rich purple as evening neared. And my world changed. Snowflakes gently descended, breathtakingly beautiful and soft. It was the sort of nameless, silent invitation into all that was going to occupy my next three days. I squeaked and clung to my frosty window now gathering the flakes. I traced my little masterpiece on the window, in childish delight. The exact happiness that accompanied that moment of simple joy cannot be explained. It was nearing night and the city lights glimmered in the far distance, a connected network of neon blues and fiery reds sitting snug amongst all the snow. I reflected endlessly on how civilizations and nature can live in this harmonious co-existence. In the darkness, the fresh white of snow was piercing my eyes. Yes, I was about to walk in my winter wonderland….there was something about the way that snow was quietly gathering that made me clear the moisture on my frosty window again and again for better views…..and Taylor Swift screamed my classic country favorites from my i-pod:
“A don’t think that the passenger seat has ever looked this good to me….”
I agreed with her, in between flickering lights and racing shadows, whirling colours, and late night snow.

And adventure, was in store. When we finally parked, I rushed out into the inviting wide open, throwing my arms wide open, embracing the winds and taking a fresh lung full. The refreshing winds invaded my soul, lifting, liberating, unleashing. And slowly, I turned around in the dead of the night, twirling to a remembered melody, when no one was looking, in the middle of the parking lot…..the magic, would unfold.

At Pismo Beach

The beginning of the spring quarter is a new start. It is the time of the year when the earth looks splendid, but you can’t really spare the time to recline on a summer chair and leisurely build castles in the air. But you can do the next best thing. You can steal a few hours to build sandcastles by the beachside instead and soak your legs in the briny waters. The sands do shift fast and the waves come crashing towards you at a terrific pace, don’t they? It’s better to surf the calm seas before they turn turbulent in thunderstorms. I used this heavy logic to convince myself that I needed a quick break to rejuvenate myself before I immersed myself in another intense quarter. It was a decision which made my weekend positively exciting because I was down at Pismo beach with family and friends this weekend, having just the sort of quality fun that I crave for.

It was Sunday. The sun was shining, and the Oceanside was mildly crowded. But the people were lazy. Even the little sandpipers looked quite at ease with the world as they walked about here and there, pleasurably gulping down little worms along the way. It looked like the perfect illusion of peace---it was just that sort of little place which makes you feel like time is slow and always handy. It’s that exact situation where you feel humbled before the vastness that is the ocean, yet enjoy the sublime experience of having all your fears swept away. My heart throbbed as I stood by the ocean, and felt the sands below my feet shift and move away rapidly with the waves. I enjoyed the sensation. After the initial reluctance, I dived right in. We formed a human chain and screamed at the top of our lungs as we bobbed up and down with the waves. It is one of those very stupid things which bought immense relief. The sound of the waves in my ears has a strangely soothing effect on me; it echoed deep harmony and oneness with the Ocean. But I could also feel the pulse of the pacific as the waves hit my back and I screamed in delight. I felt absolutely wild, untamed and free—like there weren’t any rules to life. I felt like I could have stayed there forever.


That was only until I observed that the shadows were growing longer and my feet, more numb. I thanked the pacific, and waddled towards the beach to spend the rest of my meaningful time building a sand castle with a five year old, who cheerfully re-taught me long-forgotten rhymes.

“I love the mountains; I love the rolling hills,

I love the flowers, I love the daffodils…”

I giggled as I sang along with her, understanding how happiness could be so easy to find. I repeated in my head, “I love the beach, I love today….I love the way we had fun, and wish for it stays the same!”

At the end of the day, my hair was tangled, my feet was caked with a considerable amount of beach sand, and I was shivering in the cold. But I was still grinning as we headed back home, singing “I love the mountains…” again: The world seemed perfect once more, and it would take quite some effort to break that spell again!

An Escape

When the skies are murky and I can’t see stars, or when the thundering city traffic unsettles me, I feel lost. On such occasions, I have often complained I should have lived differently. A rustic environment, somewhere up in the mountains, where I could hike everyday and find wildflowers behind every boulder seemed to me a perfect existence. An attic, a fireplace in front of which I could relax, and snow in the winter. What could beat that? This had long since been a childhood dream. Thoughts of such a life used to fuel my imagination when I was bored. “I’ll grow up and live my life on the easy chair, staring out to the skies….,” I used to think. This seems to have been inspired by the life of a fictitious girl by the name of Heidi, from Joanna Spyri’s classic Swiss novel by the same name. It was one of those stories which was very close to my heart, and the more I thought about it, the more I felt like associating myself with the character of Heidi. I had dreamed over and over again, of a villa nestled in the heart of a lesser mountain range where I could be homeschooled and a quaint little cottage by a riverside….those were the kind of places which were ideal for living, I thought, and such a life was easy.



Well, this time, I came very close to experiencing what a solitary living feels like, and I must say I was considerably surprised by my reaction to it. Initially, of course, I was thrilled to know that we were going to be spending some time in a distant cabin somewhere in the middle of Yosemite National Park for the holidays. It inspired the same childish delight in me that I associate with prolonged family outings, bringing to the forefront countless memories of yearly visits to granny’s house, warm reunions with cousins and the laid back days which were my summer holidays. This was going to be an experience to savor. This trip was going to be unique for many reasons. For the first time, we were to reside in a cabin instead of one of those standard American hotels with 2 beds, framed watercolours in the background and an old TV with pay-per-view. Oh no, this was going to be a very real experience and I was ready to enjoy it!




When we arrived, it was late evening. I had expected to feel happy at the sight of the cabin, but strangely enough, I felt a brooding fear of visiting an unfamiliar place instead. The sight of the cabin, forever hiding in the shade of tall Californian redwoods looked more spooky than welcoming. Further, the person who had tastefully decorated it seems to have enjoyed a certain savage pleasure of hanging dead deer heads all around the place, and they stood like ghostly remainders of some deadly event. The nights were absolute in their quiet, and suddenly, I did not feel so grown up anymore. For one thing, I knew I would start screaming if they locked me up in the attic for too long! I knew the forests were absolutely spendid, but I haden't taken off time to think that they might be scary too. Surprisingly, I longed for familiar sounds, like ticking of a clock, the whizzing of an overhead fan, and laughter. This felt unreal, lonely, and very much unlike home.

The second day, we decided to hike up Vernal Falls. It had rained previously, leaving the forest floor moist and the air stinging cold. I scrambled across rocks and uneven surfaces. I saw boulders, with pretty wildflowers growing behind them. They looked beautiful, but I also realized I was panting. I had hiked up an inclination to see this, and I was tired. I realized that finding wildflowers behind boulders was not easy, nor was living in the middle of the forest, as I had assumed. But it was different, and very meaningful. Life in the forests is definitely unique, but by no means easy. There is plenty to explore, unearth and uncover if I am in the mood for an adventure. Although I felt an emptiness staying away from Cupertino for so long, mesmerizing waterfalls, winding forest trails, and leisurely evenings more than made up for it. I returned home after catching a glimpse of a solitary life that was Heidi’s and I returned with a satisfaction of a lesson well learnt. I came back rejuvenated, with plenty of photos to remind of the experience which was an eye opener.

A Walk through the Woods

The week before last, we wanted to take a walk through the woods. It was not an easy wish to be satisfied, considering the nearest woods were an hour’s drive away from home and cost $5 per person. But even flimsy excuses never work with it’s a holiday and there are four people in the house milling about aimlessly. Surprisingly, I was even willing to sacrifice a nice sleeping-in-on-a- holiday session for this trip, and that happens only on extremely rare occasions. So we packed our lunch before I had time to change my mind to snuggle back into bed. A previous trip to Muir Woods was too long ago to be conveniently forgotten, and I didn’t waste my energies to try and remember. My energies had been solely reserved for the greater adventures of the day, and I didn’t want to waste them on daydreams.

An hour later, this felt too good to be true. It was incredible that I had escaped the drab old concrete of the city and the discomforts of congestion, in a matter of less than an hour! It was also hard to believe that true paradise existed so close to home and that I had been so blind to it. The Muir woods stood beckoningly before me. I took in grateful lungfuls of air, enjoying the smell of Californian redwoods, and the rejuvenating freshness of the air. There was a surreal perfectness to these woods, and they were exactly the way I had pictured them be. Something about the way the light came down in dim, magical streaks to the world alive in silent seclusion enchanted me. Surrounding me was a colourful little world full of pleasant smells, moisture which clung to my body, and incredibly tall trees. They reminded me of countless fantasies—everything from the Forbidden Forest of Hogwarts to the forests of the Land of Narnia to the recent fantasy movie A Bridge to Terabethia.

I remembered that the redwoods were one of the tallest tree species in the world. The fact looked undisputable as I stared up to the skies, trying to gauge the lengths to which they extended. There was an air of permanence about the place, like these mighty trees had lived for all of eternity. It was hard to believe that they would fall one day, when I observed how clearly rooted they were to the ground, and how they clung to the earth with a solid force. I took time to read those little information boards all along the way. Apart from describing plant anatomies, they told me stories, making me want to attribute character to each tree. They were the voice of these ancient gaints, echoing the many years of growth, experience, and struggle of the trees. They told me of trees charred to death by forest fired, yet miraculously produced shoots next spring, of weather-beaten trees too old to live who had bravely continued to stand against all odds. “This tree is Wise,” I felt like saying, “And the other one over there is a grouchy fellow….” I learnt of the way the redwoods guarded the tender world below them by diffisuing sunlight. And by doing that, they were painting the world below with splendid colours. Everything from moss to ferns thrived in the gracious shade of the redwoods. We hiked through a forest trail (although a not a very challenging one), reveling in pleasant talk and clicking pictures. We did spot a little deer (it definitely looked like one), feeding on some leaves by the side of the little creek. That had me all excited. I definitely felt refreshed, and couldn’t believe I had actually considered sleeping-in to this heavenly experience.

I was also reminded of one of those episodes on Discovery Channel. It is about ‘Forest Therapy’, and also about the way in which some civilizations worshipped the forest. Some civilizations actually believed that the woods had some untapped healing power…..a way of gently cleansing you of respiratory problems, curing you of mental sickness and reviving you. A walk through the woods was supposed to be the answer to your sickness, a gate key to heaven. As we rushed back home through the crowded streets of San Francisco, it seemed like someone had wispered this timeless secret in my ear. I knew, without quite knowing how I knew it, that there must be some hidden wisdom in that belief after all.

(The credit for all the pictures goes to my little brother, who was adamant to capture as much of the experience as possible.)

The 17 mile Drive

[This is on my visit to the 17 mile drive, a scenic drive along the sea side. We visited this place on the 1st September 2008.]

Driving along 17 miles of road, in this sweltering Californian heat isn’t exactly anyone’s idea of fun, but it helps when the sun is forgiving, and the turbulent sea is by your side always, and the numerous crashing wave pools send some sea froth flying to you in welcome. It does lift your spirits, making you forgot how sapped out you were just a few hours ago. One of my favorite things to do on the 17 mile drive is simply throw away my burdens, spending those timeless hours gazing into the horizon. I am carefree here, careless in my observations, (which is rare for me), wasting away those unhampered hours doing nothing significant.

( Seen above is the sunset I witnessed. )

What is not beautiful about the seaside? There is something enchanting which delights your eyes, calms your waywardness, caresses your face with that gentle touch. This place has attracted me three times, but with every visit, I fall more in love with it. And there is this raw beauty in everything around me, right from the crooked, bleached, ghostly trees, to the red moss which hangs limply onto the rocks. This place is the unmasked, bare face of nature and it is animated with life—and that is why it appeals to me even more.

(The little bird I could capture---unfortunately, I couldn’t capture a sea-gull! )

The emotional person gets confused here, because everything looks metaphoric. For those who can extend their visions beyond what they can see, they sense a deep solemnity and a silent majesty in the presence of the lone cypress (which is a tree growing out of a rocky cropping, with very less water to support it, and still has survived for nearly 150 years)….and of course, the sea always seem to be smiling. Yes, I stayed back to watch the sun set over the pacific, and I admit, it’s one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in my life. Well sorry, i’ve been unable to inform you precisely of how my journey was, as I am not much of a researcher, when it comes to writings. I could have provided you with more factual information like how far the sea coast is from freeway 101, and how to get there. It is just that I look at life a bit differently. It does not matter how I got there, or which freeway I took, it only matters that I enjoyed the experience. And that is how I choose to remember most of the things which happen to me—only experiences remain understood, while all the facts are mysteriously erased. Yet, one fact I do remember, that this has been my most enjoyable weekend in America this year. I have had a lot of fun on the trip, and I’ll cherish that.

(Sunset)

(The sea in the evening.)

(The lone cypress tree---one of my favorties.)

[Click to enlarge]

My October holidays

October is one of my favorite months, not only because my birthday falls in October, but my dussera holidays are always fun, and my october holidays are usually meanigfully spent. As a kid, October only meant Granny's house and Mysore's classic Dussera celebrations, but this year it's a bit more. I'm touring Los Angeles right now, and Papa's promised a visit to DisneyLand tomorrow--my exotic birthday present. Stritly speaking, we are not here for holidaying, we're here for some 'extremely important official buisness', but I haven;t bothered to learn about it. Right now, I'm feeling like a battery who is being charged. As Mr. GVK had mentioned in one of his blogs, life tends to go in slow-motion when you are in the United States, and well, i have decided to make the most of it, while I am here. After an extremely fast-paced lifestyle, I have decided to simply take life easy. In fact, lethragy suits me so perfectly that I can lounge for days together. The guilty feeling is that I am feeling like an escapist right now...I'll be missing my tutions, and Mr. KRN of BASE will be wondering what has happened to this girl who has suddenly dissaperared from tutions for fifteen days...and I've left a lot of work stagnating back home. But the sad part remains I missed my college trip to calicut and Waynad...my classmates tried to make me jealous by saying I was missing something very important in life, and the truth is, I would rather miss disneyland to go to that trip...it's just a pity I missed it. But when I return next Sunday, I'm sure most of my classmates will be twittering and asking me about my trip, while the truth is, I will be feeling hollow inside, learning they probably had more fun than I could ever imagine.

A visit to Gorur

Ok, after one of those ‘mood swings’ of mine, I’m back to being normal, healthy and happy. It’s just wonderful I have a day off today, so I thought I’d blog something exciting. My recent trip to Hassan and Gorur was interesting, and I was waiting for time to document it. It was the week before last that we left for Hassan—it was an ideal family outing, with cousins with whom you can endlessly talk with perfect confidence because they are the sort of people who will really understand why academics is boring and why movies deserve to be discussed. We were cramped in a single car, all the seven of us, but that did not matter, what mattered was feeling the wind on your face, gossiping, and listening to the music blaring as the car sped past on the highway. I must say I was the most excited of all, because I would be visiting Gorur for the second time.

Anyone who is well into Kannada literature would have heard the name of Gorur Ramaswamy Iyengar, a man who had a wonderful way with the pen. I call him the RK Narayan of Kannada literature….his writing is realistically captivating, and leaves a powerful imprint on the mind. This man was from the village of Gorur, which is about 22 kilometers from Hassan. Just like Narayan, who describes Malgudi in his imaginative detail, Ramaswamy too writes usually about his village with great fondness and natural pride. His writings were so powerful that they beckoned me to Gorur, and I somehow made sure I visited the place I had read about so often, last year. When I finished reading a marvelous novel written by him ( Namma Oorina Rasikaru), I just couldn’t stand the urge to visit the place. The same way RKN’s fans would feel if someone told them Malgudi existed, or Harry Potter fans were invited into the Hogwarts school of witchcraft. The place had changed over the years, as I observed from the car window. The book written by Ramaswamy Iyengar is half-a-century old, and the vivid description of the village and it’s people stayed in the depths of my mind as I made a quick comparison between the old and new faces of the village and I realized that the little village nestled in between the refreshing greens of the Malnad region of Karnataka was on it’s way to change---with modern bus-stands, trendy new buildings, this was not the village I had read about. But still, the visit was not all that disappointing. We did visit the temple on the banks of the river Hemavathi---it was one structure which remained unaffected by the constant changes and even didn’t forget to peek into Mr. Ramaswamy’s house!

This time, there was in additional bonus—we visited the Hemavathi dam, the waters were surging because the river was overflowing with water this monsoon. The Hemavathi Dam, I think is one of the best places to visit in Northern Karnataka, especially during the monsoons. The atmosphere of the Malnad region is truly magical. The cold winds will heal and revive you, the unpredictable sun who plays hide and seek in between the clouds can mesmerize you and the breathtaking view of the turbulent and vigorous waters of the Hemavathi river will numb your senses. The silent beauty of Hassan and surrounding regions will command respect and you’ll find yourself falling in love with this region, it feels better than home. This region is characterized by Abundance, and even the weather suits people like me who prefer the cold and wet kind of a climate. It is a stark contrast to Bangalore, and you can lose yourself in nature, all the elements here are free and strong, with nothing to arrest them---the winds, the water, the thick emerald forest cover….you will not see meekness, even Hemavathi river is a ferocious, you cannot swim in it when it’s overflowing, she will drag you away. For all those dare-devils, a visit to the Dam can invoke a rush of tingling excitement. Just stand around looking at the water, and there will be an unexpected surge of cold water, and before you know it, you are drenched to the skin, shivering, and waiting for more of it. It’s better than the fun rides at GRS! I got really wet, and to top it all off, it started raining the next moment, which made it all the better, of course. I am secretly proud I have no fear of water or the rains, I welcome it, (I think I could still go get drenched once more, even after falling sick, because I stayed out in the rains too long on Thusday!) Hey, and I forgot to mention! I did a bit of bird-watching too! Malnad is a bird-watcher’s paradise! I spotted the Indain Roller once more, the blue-tailed bee-eater (One of my favorites—I haden’t seen one in a long time), the common tailor bird, cormorants and plenty of cattle egrets. I was dancing around, trying to get pictures, which the adults did not appereciatet too much. The photos too did not come out properly, because it was raining outside, or I would have surely posted them. That ended a memorable weekend, a weekend that I am sure not to forget.