The day I lost my fear of road trips

"Let's drive down to Ahmedabad," said my brother, the driving enthusiast in the family.

"Shut up! We’re not going on a day-long road trip."

"I'm going whether you like it or not."

And that’s how I ended up accompanying him on the 915-km drive from New Delhi to the city in Gujarat where we were born and where my cousins still reside. My brother, the easy-going brat in the family, usually gets his way and I, the more responsible one, was coaxed by mom into keeping an eye on him.

I took little delight in my position as navigator for my brother’s Getz. I am not a fan of cars, road trips or watching Discovery Turbo -- things that my brother would die for. So all I basically did was stare at the speedometer and scold him when we went over 120 kmph -- which was too often for my liking.

Despite an early start, it wasn’t all smooth sailing. We made it to Jaipur in just about two hours, aided in part by a stubborn Mercedes driver who overtook our car and provoked my sibling into a high-speed highway chase punctuated at regular intervals with my high-decibel cries to “slow down right now or else I’m calling mom”.

We dropped off a friend on the outskirts of Jaipur and moved towards Ajmer, passing through a dozen toll-booths while I kept tabs on an ever-dwindling supply of rupee coins. I made no pretence of my non-existent navigational skills, leaving it to my brother’s uncanny sense of direction to find the right way. He’s a bloodhound when it comes to sniffing out the right direction; a Sherlock Holmes at the steering wheel.

That said, we did stray from the path once or twice (thanks to missing highway signboards and strange villagers who prompted us to keep going despite the fact we were travelling on weed-infested tracks that disappeared in the distance).

But only once did we truly lose our way, on the last leg of our journey from Udaipur to Ahmedabad. A wrong turn set us back a couple of hours and we were trapped in traffic behind a long line of trucks that seemed to crawl at a top speed of 100 centimetres per hour. It must have been faster than that but the wait was interminably long.

“Easier just to walk,” I remember saying as pedestrians ambled past, unmoved by the sight of our giant traffic centipede snaking through the desert state. I changed the song on the car stereo, drowning out my brother’s angry mutterings. That was my only privilege -- choice of car music and I made full use of it through the 17-hour journey.

We stopped only four times -- to stretch our legs and relax at a suitable dhaba, the ones with the non-stinky loos. And there were plenty on them on the route, though not dotting the highway like they do on the road to Chandigarh.

And what of the view? Miles and miles of sunny sunflower fields, interspersed with hillocks and bullocks. Veiled Rajasthani women in multi-hued embroidered frilly skirts and turbaned men mostly attired in white. I can’t believe it -- I’m actually enjoying this trip. If only I had bothered to bring a camera -- my humble BlackBerry is woefully inadequate.

We reached Ahmedabad at nightfall, ready to collapse into our beds. But it’s been fun and I’m actually looking forward to our return trip.

"You wait till I can afford the Mahindra XUV500," said my brother. "Then I won't ever be home on weekends."

"Mom!" I call out and then stop to shield my face as an incoming pillow bounces off my hands.

(Entry for the Mahindra XUV500 contest)

Of Merkel, beer showers and Amsterdam

A waiter accidentally spilled five glasses of beer down Angela Merkel’s back last week. I empathise with the German Chancellor because I know exactly what she went through.

Flashback to June 2005. Amsterdam was hosting the International Indian Film Academy (IIFA) awards and as a rookie reporter, I had done precious little in terms of exclusive celebrity interviews.

Bollywood stars were closeted in their hotel rooms or were at rehearsals for the big day; only a few known faces were hurrying through city streets -- and they were not interested in speaking to me.

Disheartened, I joined a group of Indian journalists going for a drink that evening. We walked past cobbled streets to an alfresco eatery near the red-light district of De Wallen. Since it was chilly outside, we occupied the only table inside the coffee shop. I ordered chocomel (don’t ask; being a teetotaller even in Sin City baffles most people). I was the only one to opt for chocolate-flavoured milk; the others wanted beers.

The waitresses were dressed in Bavarian-inspired outfits. I watched as one of them, a pretty blonde with her hair in plaits, moved towards us balancing a huge pitcher of beer. Perhaps it was her ankle-length skirt, or maybe the treacherous carpet, but the next thing I knew -- I was drenched in beer.

I remember glancing at her face. The waitress was frantic. There was a flurry of hands, cloth towels and apologies. I was helped out of my dripping jacket as my stunned companions watched -- and then giggled.

I don’t remember much after that and was too embarrassed to care. I think we got a round of beers and a glass of chocomel on the house. My leather jacket had the worst of the encounter though. It reeked of alcohol for days, and fellow passengers on the flight home gave me weird looks.

As for Merkel, she handled it much better than I did. She regained her composure after the beer bath and went on stage as scheduled. It’s not something she’ll easily forget though. It’s the same for me. The sights and sounds of the Amsterdam trip may have faded into the background but my beer shower memory remains. Cheers to that.

(Contest entry for http://www.expedia.co.in )

Parents to get top marks for voting in UP

Students at a Lucknow college will earn extra credit if they can get their mom and dad to vote in the Uttar Pradesh state elections this month.

Getting those 10 extra marks is no easy task. A girl student at Christ Church college said she would have to work hard to push her “lazy” mother to go out on polling day but it would be worth it.

School officials insist this is no bribe, only an incentive to ensure students learn the value of their vote. At a parent-teacher conference immediately after the election, the ink-stained fingers of voting parents will show which students have succeeded in the task. For more, click here

Falak saga latest in India’s battle for its missing girls

A two-year-old girl battling for life in a New Delhi hospital has put the media spotlight on a sordid tale of child abuse and prostitution in the world’s biggest democracy.

Three weeks ago, a toddler with severe injuries was brought to the hospital by a teenager claiming to be her mother. The child, later named Falak (sky) by nurses, was in critical condition, with human bite marks on her body. More here

Revisiting God's own country

Am back in New Delhi after a two-week vacation in Kerala, having welcomed 2012 in God's own country. It was a good trip -- despite my BlackBerry going on the blink.

Visions of machete-wielding mustachioed men targeting us in Tamil Nadu gave Mom sleepless nights so we ditched plans to take a taxi from Coimbatore, opting for an uncomfortable train trip to Thrissur instead.

There was no real danger the Mullaperiyar dispute would spark riots (apart from the stray stone-pelting incidents reported on TV) and ironically, the only reference to the whole dam controversy was in the Christmas cribs I spotted in at least two Kerala churches. Baby Jesus would surely have been surprised to see this huge structure (pic above) just metres away from his tiny manger in Bethlehem.

Wedding bells were in the air (for one of my cousins), one of the reasons my family was in Kerala after six years. Not that I could do much sightseeing, we were mostly meeting relatives -- breakfast with Uncle X, lunch with Cousin Y, dinner with Grand-aunt Z, with a couple of 15-minute brunches and coffee thrown in for the not-so-related acquaintances. Which means you shouldn't really ask me how much I weigh -- am still carrying some holiday weight (as Friends character Ross Gellar would say).

A highlight of the trip was waking up in Anthikad (the native place of noted Malayalam film director Sathyan Anthikad) to find an elephant grazing in the backyard. Arjunan had been hired for the local Saint Sebastian feast. I'm not usually fond of pachyderms but this majestic creature was a pleasure to behold -- the amiable elephant kept us entertained. Happy New Year.

What is it with men and their maids?

Think "Maid in Manhattan" and what usually came to mind was a fairytale Hollywood romance between Manhattan hotel maid Jennifer Lopez and aspiring Senator Ralph Fiennes.

Not any more. The arrest of Dominique Strauss-Kahn for attempted rape at a luxury Manhattan hotel has robbed the phrase of all its charm.

Although lawyers for the head of the International Monetary Fund have denied the charges, there’s no denying Strauss-Kahn is the latest celebrity to get into trouble over their maids.

In March, Bollywood star Shiney Ahuja was convicted of raping his maid in a case that shocked the world's largest film industry.

This week, former California Governor and actor Arnold Schwarzenegger acknowledged fathering a child more than a decade ago with a member of his household staff.

And NBA star Kobe Bryant was charged with sexual assaulting a hotel concierge in 2003, though the charges were later dropped.

What is it about celebrities that they take such risks at the cost of their family and careers? Are the famous more likely to cheat because they are powerful and hope to get away with it? Share your views.

7 in world's 100 richest. What about India's 'hidden' billionaires?

The number of Indians in the annual Forbes rich list came as no surprise. But stud farm owner Hasan Ali Khan wasn't among the seven Indians in the Top 100.

Khan, who insists he earns a modest living as a scrap metal merchant, is accused of illegally stashing billions of dollars in overseas accounts.

Media reports suggest the Pune-based businessman will have to cough up 620 billion rupees in tax evasion penalties. That's over $1.3 billion -- and may be just a fraction of Khan's net worth.

A fortune of $9 billion is good enough for a place in this year's Forbes Top 100 list. Does that mean India is home to more such 'hidden' billionaires?

Somebody save Delhi's Airport Express

And you better do it quick. The Airport Metro guys aren't too happy with the way things are going for the New Delhi Airport Express. Two weeks after its launch, just about 6,000 people have been hopping on board every day.

No great shakes if you consider the other Metro train network -- yup, the slower one which is always crammed with people -- ferries some 1,500,000 commuters daily.

When the Airport Express opened, I was one of the few who made a beeline for the Dwarka Sector 21 station to fully experience its snazziness.

It was Day 2 and so I didn't get a Metro souvenir, a garland or even a petal. Those were gifts reserved for the lucky souls who used the airport Metro on the first day. I did get plenty of stares though, being the only commuter in sight -- the rest were all Metro employees.

After I bought a token for Shivaji Stadium (inaugural fare 80 rupees), I walked to the security line where a burly guard stood next to the X-ray baggage scanner. When the guard asked a fellow employee to switch it on, I guessed there hadn't been too many commuters before I walked in.

I turned a corner and used the stairs to descend to the platform level below and was relieved to find a fellow commuter waiting below. Yup, it isn't really fun to walk on a deserted platform and ride a ghost train, is it? More commuters walked in while I waited.

The Metro Express runs every 20 minutes and soon enough, the glass doors opened and I had stepped inside the train for my debut journey on the Airport Express. As I whizzed past the dark tunnels, my eyes took in the shining screens with station info, the spacious luggage racks and the blue-hued cushioned seats. Not to forget the liveried Airport Express stewards who could answer all passenger queries. Surely a boon for foreign tourists, some of whom were on the train, trying to find the quickest possible route to Ramakrishna Ashram.

A lot more people got in at the Airport station. I noticed the train halted there for a couple of minutes -- possibly for the benefit of passengers with heavy luggage.

Shortly afterwards, the train moved to the elevated section of the line. From inside the Metro, you realise why this part of India's capital is so beautiful, especially with the spacious roads and the lush greenery of Delhi Cantonment.

Don't miss the imposing Manekshaw Centre which looms on the left. A station later (Dhaula Kuan, which is still under construction), the Metro hurtles into Delhi's Ridge area and then descends underground once more. Next stop Shivaji Stadium where I get off astounded -- I had covered the distance in less than 20 minutes. As the Metro sped off towards the New Delhi railway station, its final destination, I explored the station complex -- a shining steel structure which seemed festooned with escalators and elevators.

Given the staff strength, commuters would find it difficult to conjure up enough paan stains and spit to sully the complex. And I sure hope they won't, because destroying something as world-class as this would be unpardonable.

Will I take the Airport Metro again? Yes, but not too frequently. The Dwarka Sector-21 station is a bit out of the way for me -- they will have to start more feeder buses within Dwarka before they win me over. Also, from Shivaji Stadium, it takes me another 15 minutes to walk to my office on Barakhamba Road. But on the whole, the Airport Express is a boon for frequent fliers and train passengers, and of course a joyride to be enjoyed by lovers of Delhi.

More info on Airport Express fares, stations here

Related posts from Toe Knee's blog

An ode to the Delhi Metro
Reflections from the Delhi Metro
Surviving Delhi's Bus Rapid Transit Corridor Part I
Surviving Delhi's Bus Rapid Transit Corridor Part II
Surviving Delhi's Bus Rapid Transit Corridor Part III

Breakfast at Tiffany's: 50 years of "mean reds"

Watched "Breakfast at Tiffany's" today. It's a movie I'd been trying to catch for some years now -- and it just happened to be showing on the telly. Coincidentally, it's 50 years since its release and I can understand why people still talk about it.

This 1961 film was perhaps Audrey Hepburn's most challenging cinematic role and she excels at playing the eccentric Holly Golightly.

Hepburn lost the acting Oscar to Sophia Loren that year (perhaps unfairly) but there's no denying she brings the character to life.

I'd loved Hepburn in "My Fair Lady" and "Roman Holiday" but there is something magical about Hepburn's "mean reds", her personality and her equation with the cat in "Breakfast at Tiffany's" that will make this the more memorable role.

I'd read the novella some years ago and had been wondering if the film version did it justice. Critics often say Hepburn's Holly is a toned-down version of what author Truman Capote created in "Breakfast at Tiffany's", but I say it's an improvement. I liked all the changes for the film version and my only regret is they should have got an Asian actor to portray Holly's Japanese neighbour. Others think so too.

As for the film's controversial 'happy' ending, which Hollywood romance would be complete without it. The unresolved ending of the novella had left me dissatisfied. What's the point, I thought as Holly and her cat went their separate ways.

The movie (spoiler ahead) instead brings Holly, the cat and the writer together in the rain, in an embrace that almost suffocates the poor feline. (Animal rights activists, where were you in 1961?)

Hepburn's rendition of "Moon River" (which won the Oscar for 'Best Song') is one of my favourites and watching the famous sequences unfold on screen was even better.

All in all, a great way to spend my Sunday. If you're a sucker for Hollywood romances, this one is for you. If you haven't already, go watch "Breakfast at Tiffany's".