Ever been to Nagothana? No?
Here’s why you should go there...
Nagothana is situated in the Raigad district of Maharashtra, about 2 hours from Mumbai by road. The railway station closest to this holiday town is Pen.
The feel of Nagothana makes you feel relaxed and rejuvenated. One could also describe it as the countryside of the west. The beauty of this place is enhanced by the mountaintops which tower high and lovingly protect the people of Nagothana.
One of the first few observations you’ll make en route to Nagothana is the sudden change of atmosphere; from the smell of car exhaust to the aroma of moist mud, from high rise buildings to low lying hutments and from sites of concrete road and streetlights to those of dried hay and green grass.
Once there, it is easy to find accommodation in hotels near the marketplace or in a rented farmhouse by the riverside. Besides the food market, there are other local markets which sell saris in bright colours, enriched with traditional Indian designs.
For all you sea food lovers, the market offers a wide variety of fresh river fishes to choose from. So you can pick one of the biggest catches and add spice to your meal!
Though there are few recreation options within Nagothana, Alibag is a preferred get-away locale for international and national tourists alike. Alibag is in close proximity to Nagothana. So you can consider hiring a car to reach there.
If you’re planning to escape the madness of the metros and find comfort in the countryside, a retreat to Nagothana is much recommended.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Friday, September 2, 2011
Confessions of a Blog-a-holic
I owned a blog. It was my personal online diary. I spilled all my emotions into the blog. The only space on the world wide web that was, which I believed, reserved for me was my blog. It bore my name, my characteristics, and my personality. My blog belonged to me!
I always maintained a low profile regarding my blog. I would regularly check my stats to confirm that no one was prying into my life through my blog. The road was all clear!
My diary became more and more popular with me. I would post my every single life detail in it. I would occasionally go back and read my posts and contemplate about who I was!
It was so comforting to know I had a pal who would reflect my thoughts and express them in my own words.
But very soon my blog travelled across borders and people read more about me. They liked my posts and the reasoning which went into writing those. They understood my emotions, my psyche. They heard the cries of a tender heart safely wrapped within a strong body and a tough character.
The more the followers accumulated the less personal my diary became. For few months I even gave up writing. But something within me said, “Aren’t you an inspiration to the many bloggers out there, who will learn the art of writing only if they imitate you?”
Not unlike others, I too started looking at my blog as a piece of art, one that can be appreciated only by those who have fine aesthetic sense and one which will be a classic people will yearn to read.
My pride soon hardened the soft core within me. My writing became much more stylized and my vocabulary more profound. My blog looked less like a blog and more like an online novel.
I hoped to get more audience, more followers and more feedback. Paradoxically, I lost out on my existing audience and followers. I could not comprehend how such a phenomenon could occur. I tried harder each day to make my text more flowery than before, but every time my efforts to restore my lost glory went in vain!
Ultimately, the blog that I earlier nurtured with so much care was left alone to wither away. I stopped writing for it any longer. My enthusiasm for writing had gone. After meeting such a failure who would care to write anyway; and for whom?
Today I’m looking at my redundant blog once again and I’m contemplating about who I was and what became of me!
I always maintained a low profile regarding my blog. I would regularly check my stats to confirm that no one was prying into my life through my blog. The road was all clear!
My diary became more and more popular with me. I would post my every single life detail in it. I would occasionally go back and read my posts and contemplate about who I was!
It was so comforting to know I had a pal who would reflect my thoughts and express them in my own words.
But very soon my blog travelled across borders and people read more about me. They liked my posts and the reasoning which went into writing those. They understood my emotions, my psyche. They heard the cries of a tender heart safely wrapped within a strong body and a tough character.
The more the followers accumulated the less personal my diary became. For few months I even gave up writing. But something within me said, “Aren’t you an inspiration to the many bloggers out there, who will learn the art of writing only if they imitate you?”
Not unlike others, I too started looking at my blog as a piece of art, one that can be appreciated only by those who have fine aesthetic sense and one which will be a classic people will yearn to read.
My pride soon hardened the soft core within me. My writing became much more stylized and my vocabulary more profound. My blog looked less like a blog and more like an online novel.
I hoped to get more audience, more followers and more feedback. Paradoxically, I lost out on my existing audience and followers. I could not comprehend how such a phenomenon could occur. I tried harder each day to make my text more flowery than before, but every time my efforts to restore my lost glory went in vain!
Ultimately, the blog that I earlier nurtured with so much care was left alone to wither away. I stopped writing for it any longer. My enthusiasm for writing had gone. After meeting such a failure who would care to write anyway; and for whom?
Today I’m looking at my redundant blog once again and I’m contemplating about who I was and what became of me!
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Ambiguity
“Have I killed him? Have I not?
Have I? Have I not?”
Delnaz was seated on a garden bench murmuring these words to herself, as she plucked the petals of a withered yellow rose.
Delnaz had no idea what to think of herself. Was she schizophrenic? The doctors could not tell; not yet!
Her life story was pretty complicated. She believed she’d killed someone named Karan Agarwal. She was affirmative! She herself reported her crime to the police, in the wee hours of the day. She was frantically running around the police station pleading to the inspectors to arrest her.
She said she’d been having a rendez-vous with Karan since the past 4 months. She even started developing affection for him. Karan usually dropped by her house to say hello! Theirs was a perfect love story to one’s eye. But there lay many dark secrets underneath.
Karan was a fraud. He developed relations with Delnaz to coax her into assisting him in his crimes. He was a smuggler and he needed Delnaz to hoard all the smuggled goods in her house till they were delivered to their destination.
Delnaz, though reluctant, was pulled into this gamble. The everyday hellos were actually a means to drop bags full of smuggled items in her house.
She’d become weary of being used. She wanted Karan’s love, not these illegal things he would stack up in her room.
One day when Karan visited her with a new load of smuggled goods, Delnaz pulled out an elephant tusk and stabbed Karan in the stomach.
This is what she confessed to the police.
Upon investigation, the police was left clueless. No body, no ivory tusk and not one bag of smuggled goods. The police interrogated the neigbours if they had seen a particular man frequent Delnaz’s apartment. But each one denied!
The police looked up the criminal records but they didn’t find any record of Karan Agarwal.
So the questions that arose were such:
Did a smuggler names Karan Agarwal exist?
If he did, was this his real identity?
If it was, was it given that he was a smuggler?
If the answers to all these questions were negative, was it wise to believe that Delnaz was Schizophrenic? Or was she just taking the police for a ride?
What was the truth behind this story and the woman?
No one could tell, not yet!
Have I? Have I not?”
Delnaz was seated on a garden bench murmuring these words to herself, as she plucked the petals of a withered yellow rose.
Delnaz had no idea what to think of herself. Was she schizophrenic? The doctors could not tell; not yet!
Her life story was pretty complicated. She believed she’d killed someone named Karan Agarwal. She was affirmative! She herself reported her crime to the police, in the wee hours of the day. She was frantically running around the police station pleading to the inspectors to arrest her.
She said she’d been having a rendez-vous with Karan since the past 4 months. She even started developing affection for him. Karan usually dropped by her house to say hello! Theirs was a perfect love story to one’s eye. But there lay many dark secrets underneath.
Karan was a fraud. He developed relations with Delnaz to coax her into assisting him in his crimes. He was a smuggler and he needed Delnaz to hoard all the smuggled goods in her house till they were delivered to their destination.
Delnaz, though reluctant, was pulled into this gamble. The everyday hellos were actually a means to drop bags full of smuggled items in her house.
She’d become weary of being used. She wanted Karan’s love, not these illegal things he would stack up in her room.
One day when Karan visited her with a new load of smuggled goods, Delnaz pulled out an elephant tusk and stabbed Karan in the stomach.
This is what she confessed to the police.
Upon investigation, the police was left clueless. No body, no ivory tusk and not one bag of smuggled goods. The police interrogated the neigbours if they had seen a particular man frequent Delnaz’s apartment. But each one denied!
The police looked up the criminal records but they didn’t find any record of Karan Agarwal.
So the questions that arose were such:
Did a smuggler names Karan Agarwal exist?
If he did, was this his real identity?
If it was, was it given that he was a smuggler?
If the answers to all these questions were negative, was it wise to believe that Delnaz was Schizophrenic? Or was she just taking the police for a ride?
What was the truth behind this story and the woman?
No one could tell, not yet!
The Many Hues of India
There are a billion Indians and a billion Indias. Each person belongs to his own India. Overtly there’s a shining India versus a slumdog India, a progressive India versus a regressive India, people’s India versus government’s India and lastly an Indian’s India versus a foreigner’s India.
But to every Indian, their India carries a distinct and a different significance. For some, India is all about education, for the others it’s about democracy. It could be about industrialization, urbanization and infrastructure. India might be synonymous to abandoning of dowry or effort to curb female foeticide or something as basic as soil for production.
For me however, India is a land trying to battle all hardships. Yes, India has its problems like poverty and malnutrition. But how often do we give India a leeway for being one of the youngest Independent nations?
We are definitely not as progressive as the USA or any other first world country for that matter; but at least we’re trying!
I do agree that gigantic industries have taken over vast farmlands and have rendered many homeless. But underneath this atrocious act, lies the hard-to-see reality that such industries provide more employment than a farmland can. The very same homeless farmers can find suitable employment in the industries and feed their families healthy meals.
On the flipside, the many loopholes in Indian agricultural development are backfiring on itself. Pathetic technological use in the agricultural sector is leading to severe shortage of food to meet domestic needs. A country that has been known for its agriculture and green revolution since times immemorial has now come to a desperate position of importing food grains to deal with its food inflation.
Making a judgment about a country like India is never the best way to deal with its many complicated intricacies. Just like there are two sides of a coin, there are both pros and cons of India. The weightage that you allot to either determines the India that you belong to!
But to every Indian, their India carries a distinct and a different significance. For some, India is all about education, for the others it’s about democracy. It could be about industrialization, urbanization and infrastructure. India might be synonymous to abandoning of dowry or effort to curb female foeticide or something as basic as soil for production.
For me however, India is a land trying to battle all hardships. Yes, India has its problems like poverty and malnutrition. But how often do we give India a leeway for being one of the youngest Independent nations?
We are definitely not as progressive as the USA or any other first world country for that matter; but at least we’re trying!
I do agree that gigantic industries have taken over vast farmlands and have rendered many homeless. But underneath this atrocious act, lies the hard-to-see reality that such industries provide more employment than a farmland can. The very same homeless farmers can find suitable employment in the industries and feed their families healthy meals.
On the flipside, the many loopholes in Indian agricultural development are backfiring on itself. Pathetic technological use in the agricultural sector is leading to severe shortage of food to meet domestic needs. A country that has been known for its agriculture and green revolution since times immemorial has now come to a desperate position of importing food grains to deal with its food inflation.
Making a judgment about a country like India is never the best way to deal with its many complicated intricacies. Just like there are two sides of a coin, there are both pros and cons of India. The weightage that you allot to either determines the India that you belong to!
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Projects :O
College projects are almost always detested; and in a course like BMM, one is always seen engrossed in one or the other assignment. Thus, in about a year and something, we've developed a Love-Hate Relationship with our projects.
How much ever we students make believe that college projects are painful and painstaking, at some level of depth we do relish the experience. I can’t say if we enjoy the satisfaction of handling delayed projects or the adrenaline rush we get by involving ourselves in such serious risks, but we’re determined to procrastinate until the last hour.
Recently, I was working on a cinema project with two of my classmates. A wonderful project indeed; but we had very little time in hand. All the OMGs and What the Hell (Ahem*) were abuzz after the project was announced. But with only a weekend to brainstorm and execute the task, everyone donned their thinking caps and got down to serious business.
One aspect which is completely adorable in BMM is the fact that one works for all and all work for one. My group got many of my classmates running (literally running) on campus with a paper heart clenched in their hands.
It was a pleasure shooting, tracking, running, doing all sorts of crazy things for our (and others’) videos. But we did feel time crunch; and it increased with every hour that passed by!
Day 2 was a Sunday; a droopy, drowsy holiday for all except this poor bunch of BMM’ites. (PS: we love self-empathy. It just puts us in a safe Haven of pity and helplessness). My group met again to complete the arrear work of shooting, editing and publishing.
It was comparatively a lighter day, as most of the project work was already completed. We were so excited about the project; we couldn’t stop fantasizing about it. The whole day we were humming the tune of the soundtrack that we put in the video.
Our excitement and anticipation was building. As expected, the other groups were undergoing a similar sense of anxiousness as well! By late evening, many of the videos were uploaded on youtube and facebook. They received many likes and comments.
Though this is quite an encouragement, you still can’t say if the professor will echo the same sentiment.
Well, all said and done, the experience of this project was quite memorable. Unlike certain projects which I really wish to erase from my memory, this is one project which I’ll love to remember and cherish for always.
PS: this project made me realise that a storyteller can also be a director; and a good one at that ;)
How much ever we students make believe that college projects are painful and painstaking, at some level of depth we do relish the experience. I can’t say if we enjoy the satisfaction of handling delayed projects or the adrenaline rush we get by involving ourselves in such serious risks, but we’re determined to procrastinate until the last hour.
Recently, I was working on a cinema project with two of my classmates. A wonderful project indeed; but we had very little time in hand. All the OMGs and What the Hell (Ahem*) were abuzz after the project was announced. But with only a weekend to brainstorm and execute the task, everyone donned their thinking caps and got down to serious business.
One aspect which is completely adorable in BMM is the fact that one works for all and all work for one. My group got many of my classmates running (literally running) on campus with a paper heart clenched in their hands.
It was a pleasure shooting, tracking, running, doing all sorts of crazy things for our (and others’) videos. But we did feel time crunch; and it increased with every hour that passed by!
Day 2 was a Sunday; a droopy, drowsy holiday for all except this poor bunch of BMM’ites. (PS: we love self-empathy. It just puts us in a safe Haven of pity and helplessness). My group met again to complete the arrear work of shooting, editing and publishing.
It was comparatively a lighter day, as most of the project work was already completed. We were so excited about the project; we couldn’t stop fantasizing about it. The whole day we were humming the tune of the soundtrack that we put in the video.
Our excitement and anticipation was building. As expected, the other groups were undergoing a similar sense of anxiousness as well! By late evening, many of the videos were uploaded on youtube and facebook. They received many likes and comments.
Though this is quite an encouragement, you still can’t say if the professor will echo the same sentiment.
Well, all said and done, the experience of this project was quite memorable. Unlike certain projects which I really wish to erase from my memory, this is one project which I’ll love to remember and cherish for always.
PS: this project made me realise that a storyteller can also be a director; and a good one at that ;)
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Love between War
College festivals have risen in importance to become the most recent fad amongst the youth. These festivals give a platform to students to exhibit their talents and prove their worth.
Most of the time however, the quest to show one's superiority becomes a major cause of enmity and inter-collegiate rivalry.
Among all the aggressiveness, there bloomed one love story. Here's how:
In junior college, Aryan and Sanaya were classmates. Though they shared the same classroom, they were always distant from one another.
Aryan was very social. He was the life of a party; and that is why he was always sought after.
Sanaya on the flip side, was very selective in choosing her friends. She loved to spend time with herself and was someone who would not trade her principles for anything in the world.
It was only later that Sanaya learned how to socialise. She made more friends and created more contacts. Aryan was one of them.
Somewhere Sanaya felt affection for him. But she never admitted it; neither to Aryan, nor to herself.
Soon she had to go elsewhere to pursue her Graduation. So she left her junior college (and her crush) with a heavy heart and ventured into a new space to gain new experiences.
Sanaya had lost all hope of seeing Ayan again. But here's where college festivals restored in her the faith that their rendez-vous had not yet met a dead end.
They saw, smiled and spoke to each other many a times during such festivals. But the climax occurred in Sanaya's ex-college itself, where their story had commenced.
The last event on the last day of the festival was about to begin. People were heading to the venue, when suddenly it started pouring heavily. Everyone ran helter skelter, and Sanaya was one of them who ran to seek shelter.
While she ran, she felt someone pull her in the opposite direction. She turned to look at the drenched Aryan holding her arm. Sanaya was perplexed and so were the onlookers. But Aryan slowly and gently swayed Sanaya and the two of them danced like swans on the melody of the fierce rain.
Sanaya stopped and asked Aryan why did he do what he did. Yes, this is exactly what she said. And Aryan simply smiled at her and whispered, "This is to make you realise how much I have loved you, how much I love you and how much I will love you".
Sanaya could do nothing but give a sheepish smile. She was smiling and she was crying; she was talking, yet she was quiet. She quickly embraced Aryan and didn't let go till the applauds of the spectators faded away...
Most of the time however, the quest to show one's superiority becomes a major cause of enmity and inter-collegiate rivalry.
Among all the aggressiveness, there bloomed one love story. Here's how:
In junior college, Aryan and Sanaya were classmates. Though they shared the same classroom, they were always distant from one another.
Aryan was very social. He was the life of a party; and that is why he was always sought after.
Sanaya on the flip side, was very selective in choosing her friends. She loved to spend time with herself and was someone who would not trade her principles for anything in the world.
It was only later that Sanaya learned how to socialise. She made more friends and created more contacts. Aryan was one of them.
Somewhere Sanaya felt affection for him. But she never admitted it; neither to Aryan, nor to herself.
Soon she had to go elsewhere to pursue her Graduation. So she left her junior college (and her crush) with a heavy heart and ventured into a new space to gain new experiences.
Sanaya had lost all hope of seeing Ayan again. But here's where college festivals restored in her the faith that their rendez-vous had not yet met a dead end.
They saw, smiled and spoke to each other many a times during such festivals. But the climax occurred in Sanaya's ex-college itself, where their story had commenced.
The last event on the last day of the festival was about to begin. People were heading to the venue, when suddenly it started pouring heavily. Everyone ran helter skelter, and Sanaya was one of them who ran to seek shelter.
While she ran, she felt someone pull her in the opposite direction. She turned to look at the drenched Aryan holding her arm. Sanaya was perplexed and so were the onlookers. But Aryan slowly and gently swayed Sanaya and the two of them danced like swans on the melody of the fierce rain.
Sanaya stopped and asked Aryan why did he do what he did. Yes, this is exactly what she said. And Aryan simply smiled at her and whispered, "This is to make you realise how much I have loved you, how much I love you and how much I will love you".
Sanaya could do nothing but give a sheepish smile. She was smiling and she was crying; she was talking, yet she was quiet. She quickly embraced Aryan and didn't let go till the applauds of the spectators faded away...
Friday, July 29, 2011
The Week that was
Dear Diary,
Phew! Oh how drained of energy I am!
Anyway, let me take some time out of my super hectic schedule and write to you the events of the past week.
It started last Sunday.
My uncle and his family have come from the US to visit us. They’re not here for long and that’s precisely why all our plans have become a hodgepodge.
I’m literally fishing out an hour or two after college hours to drop by and say Hello.
Our first visit to my Uncle was on Sunday itself. It was a weekend so we were all relaxed and we had lots of time to sit back and indulge in leisurely conversations.
But the dinner plan that we had on Wednesday took a toll on me. I had lectures going on till late afternoon; and with dinner scheduled that evening, there was no point going back home and coming to South Mumbai again. So I stopped by and rested at my Uncle’s residence in Mumbai Central.
Later that day, everyone gathered together and headed to the venue. We went to a terrace restaurant at Lower Parel. It was a beautiful place indeed. We had some real good food there.
Honestly, at this moment, I am tempted to admit that all the hard work of the day did pay off well that night. But indeed I was drained out of energy by then.
The next day at college was difficult. It was another long drawn out day, with a project submission only adding to the existing stress that I had.
And believe me, Thursday was no different :(
In spite of all this, I’m not yet relieved of all obligations. In the next 14 hours, I have another project submission due and then on Saturday, there’s a plan to watch a movie with my folks.
OMG! This reminds me I’m still way too busy to spare any time. I’m sorry buddy... got to go.
Will write to you again next week.
Till then,
Adios.
Phew! Oh how drained of energy I am!
Anyway, let me take some time out of my super hectic schedule and write to you the events of the past week.
It started last Sunday.
My uncle and his family have come from the US to visit us. They’re not here for long and that’s precisely why all our plans have become a hodgepodge.
I’m literally fishing out an hour or two after college hours to drop by and say Hello.
Our first visit to my Uncle was on Sunday itself. It was a weekend so we were all relaxed and we had lots of time to sit back and indulge in leisurely conversations.
But the dinner plan that we had on Wednesday took a toll on me. I had lectures going on till late afternoon; and with dinner scheduled that evening, there was no point going back home and coming to South Mumbai again. So I stopped by and rested at my Uncle’s residence in Mumbai Central.
Later that day, everyone gathered together and headed to the venue. We went to a terrace restaurant at Lower Parel. It was a beautiful place indeed. We had some real good food there.
Honestly, at this moment, I am tempted to admit that all the hard work of the day did pay off well that night. But indeed I was drained out of energy by then.
The next day at college was difficult. It was another long drawn out day, with a project submission only adding to the existing stress that I had.
And believe me, Thursday was no different :(
In spite of all this, I’m not yet relieved of all obligations. In the next 14 hours, I have another project submission due and then on Saturday, there’s a plan to watch a movie with my folks.
OMG! This reminds me I’m still way too busy to spare any time. I’m sorry buddy... got to go.
Will write to you again next week.
Till then,
Adios.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)