Goodbye Ahmedabad!

Dead body at the Sunday Market

Leaving my city tonight. Not sure if I am coming back. I already know I will miss you Ahmedabad, more than any other city I have ever known in life.

I will miss the bustling roads and the buzzing lanes. I will miss the cows crossing over even at the busiest junctions and the cars and bikes which always almost bump into each other. I will miss the men and the women who almost die everyday on the roads, but never actually do. I will miss the old city, the pols, the sweet Gujarati food. I will miss the mosques, the temples, the people who make them alive. I will miss walking on the streets aimlessly, talking to friendly strangers, eating food way past mid-night in the old city, and desperately searching for an open cigarette shop at 2 am.

But I will miss the people the most. I will miss the friends I made over the many many years spent in this city.

Bhavin has been my companion for the longest period of time. We made the perfect house mates, always there for each other and always giving complete space to one another. He knows all my secrets, but they never went beyond him. I can tell him just about everything, knowing that he somehow would understand. We traveled a lot, did lots of photography and bike rides. We were never close as classmates in NID, but living with him bought us much closer, and surprisingly we lived in perfect harmony. I have a feeling that he is getting married because I am moving out of the house, and he won't be able to take the loneliness :) Bhavin recently wrote an amazing post about me on his and that can be read here.

Manoj, the one guy with whom you can have a conversation about almost everything. He was my life line when it came to discussing things which everyone else seemed to be disinterested about - the politics of South India, stories about Gods and Goddesses, impact of religion and its evolution, invasion of Iraq, unrest in Syria and so on. We became better friends as we started playing tennis together, but it was only when we discovered our love for traveling that our dosti rocked! We bonded over the numerous shared cigarettes (I had to force him to give a few drags from his, initially reluctant he eventually relented) and the shared blankets over many trips :)) Though extremely reserved about himself (unless of course when he is drunk), Manoj is a perfect friend and an exceptional travel mate!

Vikram and me share the same sun-sign and I get along extremely well with him when the time is right! We had the most fantastic time in Chennai (and on numerous trips made together) when we stayed for a couple of weeks working with a client. He is the funniest of them all and can keep you entertained forever and ever. We have had our own set of screw-ups but I guess that's all part of growing up and learning in life. I guess we will eventually move on over it all. I would always remember the absolutely insane movies that only the two of us went for and still enjoyed.

There are so many more that I am even afraid to even mention the names here, I might miss some and end up offending them. But all the people who I came across in these years, only made the time spent here more eventful.

I am going now, but I have a feeling that the city will call me back. Again.
Amen.

Strangers who knew each other too well

Smoking was something Roshni never indulged in, yet today she laughed uncontrollably every time she tried making rings of smoke. Almost every time she tried, smoke came out looking more like smoke from Aladin's lamp, and in her current state she laughed and waited for the djinn to come out and join them on the terrace.

All this while Arvind just stood in a corner, the ice cubes slowly melting in the glass, smoke slowly escaping out of his amused smile. He had tried his best to teach her, but today wasn't a day when success would have come to him easily. He stood back and looked at her, but saw nothing. It was a space filled with his past, filled with remorse. Looking at the perfect arches of now redundant yet iconic Ellis Bridge beyond the curls of her hair, he tried to keep his mind from wavering

Without any warning, Roshni came close, stepped on his feet and blew the last sleepless, shapeless smoke ring directly on his face. Taken by surprise he held her back and slowly turned her around towards the river so they both faced the bridge, the peaceful and sleeping river, the life lazily passing by. They had so many of their memories centered around the bridge, of the many vacant evenings spent strolling on it. It was one public space they could secretly call their own...

It was late in the night and with a few lights to disturb their view, they could clearly see the city beyond the river and its numerous bridges. Instinctively Arvind lightly wrapped his arms around her and smelt the fine fragrance of her hair. It was beautiful, more beautiful than anything else he could imagine at that time. She turned around, reached up and lightly brushed her lips on his, stroking his hair with her fingers, leaning against the terrace wall, her cold fingers curling around on his ears. None of them knew what was going on, none cared.

Arvind moved back as he heard the sound of approaching footsteps; no one came up from the party going on in the open verandah of the old house, no one saw them there. He offered her another cigarette, this time she refused. The spell was broken, the moment was gone. He went back to his glass of whiskey, while she looked on towards the bridge, playing with the rings of her hair.

While other guests at the party were still asleep, some drunk while others high with the smoke of marijuana, he walked her back to her house in the wee hours of the new day. The laughter was lost, the silence between them had become overbearing. They both wanted to go back to those few seconds of intimacy, yet knew it would never happen again. She had pined for his touch for so long, and knew that it was the last time she would see him. Her mind kept going back to the few beautiful, rushed days they had spent together years ago, to the moments that were fading fast from her memories.

                                                                       ---

Walking alone in the slowing awakening pols of the old city, Arvind took the last drag from the last cigarette on him. His insomnia was back, he knew the memories from last night won't let him go back to his life again anymore. Stubbing the cigarette, he finally made up his mind and decided to go back to Roshni. It was an end to a life long struggle for him. Finally.

                                                                        ---

Later she sat alone on the balcony as the sun lazily rose across the river, oblivious to the golden light filtering through the rich flora. A long journey awaited her, a place called home was calling her back. She decided to let go of the struggle inside and move on. Arvind was past for her. Finally.



image source: www.corbis.com

Happy couple, eh!

The day has already started and I am already in office and already developing the concept shortlisted yesterday. But no, the post is not as lame as the first line here.

Its not common for me to come alone to office at this time, but today I did. And as I enjoyed the tea-sutta at the little tea stall, I saw something which made me happy and I actually smile on my own :)

There was terrific early morning light on Vikram (chai wala kid) and I was already missing my camera. While I attempted (quite unsuccessfully) to make rings of smoke, a middle aged couple came on their Kinetic Honda and asked for chai. Nothing usual about it I guess, but there was this intense chemistry between them as they waited for the tea, and I could feel the romance still alive between them. The guy actually took his clean white handkerchief and cleaned the glasses before Vikram could pour chai in them. I was elated!

We've (me, friends) been discussing how so many married couples we know do not look happy in each other's company and how life becomes mumdane and boring within an year of getting married. This couple kind of broke the perception; perhaps such love is much rarer, but it does exist :)

p.s. these two might not be a couple, and might just be out for tea after their first one-night-stand! In any case, I was happy to see them happy :)

The Little Boy and his Magic

'Do you want to see some magic', he asked, his bright big eyes ripe with anticipation.

We passed the cigarette between us and continued discussing what should be the new strategy forward for the company, completely oblivious to the presence of the little boy almost pleading with us.

'I will show you good magic, only Rupees five', he pressed again even as S dismissed him with a wave of his hand. All this while we avoided making any eye contact with him; looking at him would not be as easy as it was to pretend that he wasn't present there and so needed no intervention from our side.

'Sir, my magic is good, only Rupees five. I am hungry', he said, looked at us still engrossed in our conversation and hiding behind the cloud of smoke. He moved on to another guy sitting on a scooter, who angrily scared the little kid away before he could even tell him how good his magic was.

I forgot all about him, till he came back again in my dreams and asked for money in exchange of some great magic so he could eat some food. I don't remember anymore if I agreed.

A night to remember

As the sun set and the cool breeze started blowing, we decided to walk back home crossing the bridge over Sabarmati. I looked sideways to see Sudha smiling and talking animatedly, yet never looking at me.

'So have you ever tried the filter coffee at Sridarshini?'
Karan laughed out loud and said, 'That's not exactly fair, am just a day old here and all I have see so far is you, though still not enough of you!'
Sudha pondered for a while and said, 'You men, all are just the same!'
She complained, though her cheeks flushed and she fumbled with words.

We all went silent after this, I tried to pretend that I was busy looking down at feet, while they got busy looking at their hands and nowhere in particular. I knew this moment would pass and we would get back to our composed self soon. Somehow it was always left to me to make a humorous remark and break the sudden conversation barrier, but this time I decided to let it linger on for a while more. I wanted her to feel my pain, or whatever unusual emotions I was going through for the past two days.

We walked in silence for the rest of the journey. Maybe Karan already felt guilty about what was going on, and was happy to be away from conversations, or perhaps he was just happy and content with the breeze, but he remained silent. I knew we were finally reaching a point where we needed to talk, and have a conversation where I was also involved. Karan was leaving in the morning and I could feel an odd tension building up between the three of us.

I broke the silence and asked them if they wanted coffee, they both nodded. We were already in the new part of the town and so decided to go to the nearest posh new coffee place, sit in the open and enjoy the weather. The rains in the evening had ensured that the air was cool and extremely pleasant. Karan lit a cigarette and after a couple of drags, offered it to me. As I took my first puff, he started talking. I could see he was waiting for the moment, but somehow I panicked. I was not yet prepared for what I knew was coming, and when the words did start flowing, my world vanished.

I walked back home alone that night with the promise that my world would be returned back to me tomorrow. I wasn't sure anymore; Karan was my best friend and Sudha my wife, yet these promises somehow meant so little now.

Thanks to Vikram Tej for the superb illustration, read and know more about him here and here.

Pants down, please!

Ref: www.worldofstock.com

I was expectantly elated when Miss Mona Lisa ordered me to drop my pants, and immediately did the needful. Within a short span of less than three seconds my excessively lustful and pervert mind imagined a set of potentially wonderful possibilities. However, what happened was far from wonderful and I was subjected to the keen eyes of a worried nurse, while my requests for the far more interesting activities consistently fell on deaf ears!

Now, of late the requests to drop my pants (often shorts) has gone up at an alarming rate. Often these people are complete strangers, though not necessarily always. In fact my friends and office colleagues insisted that I do it for them as well and in the office itself, with much cunning persuasion I convinced them that doing at home would be a better idea, and somehow managed to save the modesty of our shared sacred works space.

However, in most cases I am not so lucky and as and when I am ordered to shed my pants, I oblige. Even as I escaped Ahmedabad last week and landed in Chennai, the strange request from strangers did not cease. They still smiled at me and politely request me to drop it all for them. And to top it all, told me the exact time after three days when I should come and drop my pants again for them. As always, grudgingly I smiled and agreed. Such is life!

Foggy Ahmedabad morning!

A very foggy day in Ahmedabad, very very unusual for the place as well as for this time of the year. There is rumour that soon there would be snowfall too, for now the rumour remains unconfirmed.

These are images from the terrace of my office where we spent about 20-25 minutes looking at the fog (basically not looking at anything at all) and feeling good about it. The fact that it was from our working hours was, of course, conveniently forgotten.

The images are from my mobile phone (Samsung Jet) and the quality is pathetic (rather than dramatic).

From the terrace

Vishakha and Deepa

SG Highway from the terrace

The terrace garden

More from the garden

Foggy parking

Pressure Post - hairless Aparna, Arpit's hairy legs and Upma

I am under tremendous pressure to write an interesting and entertaining post. Plus I need to write a brain dead post to ward off the accusation of writing intellectual posts on my blog. I was accused today morning of writing a boring blog with no latest gupshup.

So let me just start off with how Aparna maintains herself so hairless and smooth. Its an age old and time-tested ancestral recipe, and I am about to reveal it here. Basically what you need to do is mix some special type of haldi (kastoori haldi, i think) with chandan (or some other two similar sounding ingredients) and use it on yourself. A few months of patience will pay off by removing all possible unwanted hair on your body; special care, however, has to be taken to not apply it on your eyebrows (rather obvious). But how exactly it is to be used remains a mystery. I only saw the mixture being prepared, but I suspect that you might have to add water/ oil/ wine before doing whatever you are supposed to with it.

I have a scoop on Arpit as well, but I shall not reveal it on a public platform. But here is quick update on his body hair. He has hairy legs (very hairy indeed) and smooth makkhan-like arms. His facial hair is unusual and makes him look a bit like a mongrel Chinese stuck in India. The hair on the head is shabby at best.

Aparna also makes awesome Upma (her first Upma attempt today with ma's recipe) while Arpit's tea is a perfect balance of Milk, Sugar and Assam Tea. I thoroughly enjoyed them both (the tea and the Upma).

As promised some images from my phone today. Absolutely unrelated to the post, but I had this irresistible urge to post them somewhere!

Office in the night



View from office



View from office



View from office



View from office



Office lift with Sachin's reflection



Headless Saibaba



Outside office



Outside office



Outside office



Sachin enjoying his chai



Vinishree, Kavya and Kavan

Love, Sex aur Dhokha

The shock value of two couples sharing their naked pictures over the internet (DevD) is now passe, and the latest buzz is voyeurism. While DevD was convincing with characters who were common people like most of us, LSD pushes the comfort zone that a movie explores much further. You can't afford to watch the movie and blush. Everything is real, and the reality is dark, dirty and often ugly.

Sex often sells, but sex here just makes you uncomfortable. But you continue watching it further. That is the addictive part of voyeurism, you can easily get into people's lives and its often difficult to come out of it. Though we may never admit, there is often pleasure in knowing the dirt around.

The movie is a collection of three stories (each based on Love, Sex and Dhokha, in that order), often crossing paths and affecting each other. Each story has all three building elements (Love, Sex, Dhokha), but in varying degrees. And drawn from many real instances, the stories immediately connect with the viewer. Privacy takes a backseat as the stories progress, with the camera watching and recording almost everything. The protagonists are comfortable with leaving a digital footprint of their lives, often intimate and very personal, while some are even tricked into this. But the portrayal is chillingly convincing, helped by the fact that the entire movie is shot on a hand-held camera (or at least shown like that).

The movie paves the way for many more movies to come on subjects considered taboo right now. One can hope for the trend to continue.

My Sassy Girl

Kiran is home and he has been insisting for a long long time that I should watch a movie called ‘My Sassy Girl’. Right in the beginning he also informed me that it’s a love story. Being me, that in itself was a humungous put-off and I kept delaying the day I would have to start it. However, Kiran being Kiran, soon I was left no choice and was forced to start seeing the movie a few days back while I was trying to chat with friends online late in the night. His sentimental gibberish worked and I decided to ditch my dear old friends, who were dying to talk to me, and started watching this super-hit Korean movie, also known ‘Titanic of the East’.

Every day I would see only about 15 minutes of the movie, and then fall asleep or go online or generally talk on my phone. With my delays Kiran’s emotional blackmails also increased and it finally became a matter of Kiran versus any other thing that I might want to take up after office.

Finally, today is the day I saw the movie completely and earned some brownie points from Kiran. He already finds me cold and selfish and I was extremely keen on getting into his good books. I think that’s one major factor why I finished it today, the other reason being that I can spend my evenings doing other things as well. It was tough in the beginning to relate to college romance, especially for me, but the emotional quotient of the movie was high and I was drawn into watching the complete movie without much efforts.

Bhavin has so far dodged it successfully; he saw ‘Harishchandrachi Factory’ instead (which was also given by Kiran), which made Kiran give a little bit of respite to Bhavin. But I am hopeful now that the second cold and selfish being in the house will also be forced to see the movie and become nice and worthy of loving. Bhavin has zero escape routes available now, unless he decides to watch some other Marathi movie downloaded by Kiran and win some more time. Kiran is a big promoter of Marathi movies and so watching Marathi movie over a Korean love story isn’t exactly a sin and may be very much acceptable!

Some more on Bhavin's blog here.

Khamasa finally!

So finally Khamasa happened. I never had any reason to visit this famous non-vegetarian food अड्डा and so never went there. Even yesterday I had no reason, but since both Bhavin and Kiran asked me to come, I decided to accompany them. Many of my friends in NID loved the place and mentioned if often, but it was rather different from what I expected, but in a nice way.

We took an auto and went there, and the narrow lanes filled with people made for a highly interesting start. The road is lined with many mosques and we could hear the call for prayers from many. I also quickly bowed my head and made all the requisite wishes, after all one never knows which God might listen to you on your lucky day.

Bhavin and Kiran ate their dinner at Farooq Fry Centre (ऊंचे लोग, ऊंची पसंद; चिक्केन तंदूरी न. १). Both enjoyed eating their food while I silently observed. Its weird to be a vegetarian and be surrounded by non-veggies all the time. Bhavin claims that he has turned into a vegetarian since we started sharing the flat! Kiran and Muzayun, however, are still staunch non-veggies and unlikely to change (not that Bhavin will also ever change). But somehow I also know that eating animals is a fulfillment of a primal desire, so like many others that we cannot resist. Maybe someday even I might start eating these poor animals, but it looks highly unlikely as of now.

The food was red in color (almost blood red) and greasy. Both my friends, noticed, and none cared, I guess its regular here. Apparently Tandoori Chicken was the best food item and they both eat every single बोटी on the poor animal's little bones. I wonder if it was a मुर्गा or a मुर्गी, does it matter? Is the taste gender specific?

The dinner was followed by a walk and 'orange sharbet' at a shop close by.

Do read about La Bella, the other popular non-vegetarian food hub of Ahmedabad.

ऋषि का ज्ञान...

This is Rushikesh.



Rushikesh likes to talk about an alternate way of doing things/ achieving ends. He was different and weird, even back in School.

I had a good and long coffee-meal-walking session with him yesterday, discussing past lives and their significance amongst many other similar topics. Hinduism lays quite a lot of importance on past life and after life, and so much of spirituality and meditation is actually done to purge all the negativity from our experiences in these different lives. Not just Rushi, even Shilpi (who is also heavily into meditation), had mentioned this to me some time back. Its difficult to put across these things clearly, especially when I also understand so little about them. Its intriguing and has always attracted me, but I have been way too logical about it all. Maybe I need to just let go of what I understand and what I know, and let things just come to me. I know I am extremely open to try this out as well, see no harm at all in this. After all we live only once, so we should do all that we can!

This is the piece of paper on which we were discussing this and many other things. Maybe only the two of us can understand this, or perhaps only he can. Being an engineer he couldn't help but explain his past lives as this: current life = p, past life 1 = p-1, past life 2 = p-2 and so on.



If Rushi ever reads this, he might find my discourse here extremely shallow and perhaps even fatally wrong. But maybe that is the intent, to get corrections on my limited understanding.

'Soni ka chawl' and other short stories...

I saw 'My Name is Khan' which has Shahrukh hamming often about how Hindus and Muslims are not different, and that there are only two types of people - good and bad. No doubt he is right.

My first story in this series also concerns Hindus and Muslims, particularly those belonging to 'Soni ki Chawl'. The story is neither necessarily true nor is it inspiring or uplifting, its just a story.

Soni is Chawl is a residential area located around the heavily industrialized Rakhial and Odhav areas of Ahmedabad. The area got its name from the 'Soni' community which apparently settled down here many years back, then the outskirts of the city. The community thrived and became prosperous. However, a few years back some Muslim families also shifted there; my story teller had no clue why they shifted into a completely Hindu background. And slowly this new migrant population grew and they pushed the Hindus out, so much so that its now a completely Muslim neighbourhood. As I mentioned earlier, this story has little meaning. Its just a tale told. My autowalla told me this story while we passed through this area, assuming me to be a pious Hindu, despite my beard and disapproving glances. There was no need, it was just a mindset revealed to me, the story was just a media.

The other story also happened on the way, and this one happened for sure. I crossed Ashmia mills and remembered my last visit to their compound. I had gone there with Nakul and our dear professor A B Patel from Nirma, the reason was to request Ashima to become the main sponsor for the dream that we lived for the entire semester - Ingenium. We did realise it too, despite the riots in February which stopped our work for a long time and scared away a few potential participants. Ashima never agreed and finally Suzlon became our event sponsor.

More stories as time goes by.

connection.

It was walking time again, and here is an observation from today.

A Muslim man (beard/ clothes/ topi) on a bike got stopped by the late-night-police from a group of a few young guys, while the rest were let off. Even he is let off after a few minutes of questioning. I stood along a wall and saw it all and found it curious. Was the young man stopped because he so obviously looked like a Muslim? Is that such a bad thing to do (considering that my assumption is true), or are we too paranoid at times, or its a necessary precaution.

I was singled out always and repeatedly, sometimes even twice or thrice on the same street, when I was in Srinagar and the villages around it a few years back. It was purely due to my appearance - bushy beard and very long hair. Uncle told me that I look more like a Mujaheddin than a regular Kashmiri would ever look. I could never get used to all the frisking and sudden checks, though it also told me that the armed forces were ruthlessly efficient and all this was something like a necessary discomfort. I always escaped any ill-treatment (except once or twice) because of papers proved that I was a Hindu. Army men generally warmed up to me after this revelation and wanted to know the story of my long hair.

Its just something I remembered from the past and connected two highly unrelated stories. Appearances could be so deceptive sometimes.

more on walking...

My bitter cup of hot tea is almost cold now, as I sit here and write. The long walk was good, walking hand in hand and walking alone. The wind strong on the bridge, and my hair blew like a thick mat of coir. And even the police on night patrol looked at me suspiciously. But I walked ahead, to the other side of the town. My tea cup is getting over fast, so I make another one; even more bitter than the last cup. More squatters on the road-side and even more dogs, strangely silent. I never looked anywhere, I knew that I wanted to come back. Come back on the bridge to look into the water, and the sky. There is only a little wind inside, my room is cool though, balcony is bliss. There were twenty five lights whose reflection I could see on the water, and I tried making meanings out of this. Somehow I was convinced that it would mean something. I am letting the tea get cold again, can't look for meanings in what I am doing now. Cold tea tastes better, even bitter at times, or so I like to believe. A broken light post, smashed by a speeding bus. More families on the road now, some chatting, some drinking juice. Odd how Ahmedabad comes alive at such odd hours. Even from my seat I can hear the faint buzz of vehicles on the bridge, an occasional horn inter-spread with eerie silence.

solitary winter walks...

Walking through a place is one of the best ways to explore it, especially so when the walks are solitary. With a companion there are expectations, and often disappointments/ disillusionment. Experiences from traveling with and without a companion has often reinforced this.

My evening/ late night walks in Paldi/ Narayannagar have opened up a new whole new labyrinth of interconnecting roads and pathways I never even knew existed. Every time I am out, I see something new. Some beautiful old bungalows, a huge Swaminarayan temple, some new and variously colorful dogs, people playing antakshari in groups outside their houses, loud music late in the night from a rich man's house, dark deserted houses with long lost histories, some new construction here and there, a very dark but enchanting park full of medicinal plants, but most often its the idyllic (and often eerie) night silence that creeps out and stays with you, sometimes even till the wee hours of the next morning.

Ahmedabad is never very cold, and that makes late night walks possible even in the winters. Often there is no one else who walks along with you, so the solitary walking figure of a weird looking man with long hair and short shorts stands out and makes the lazy inhabitants take notice. But the ones who get the most curious by my bizarre appearance are the numerous Paldi/ Narayannagar dogs. The are left confused and their inherent ability of barking momentarily stunted, often left bewildered by a lack of a coherent response in their mini minds. And of course this suits me well, I don't find the idea of running in the dark alleys with variously colored dogs chasing me particularly alluring.

Older women also look at me with curiosity, often perhaps first looking at me as a symbol of growing women emancipation (with my long hair and shorts), but they are also ultimately left confounded by the actual me. Apart from the old aunties and colorful dogs, no one else gives me a second look.

I sometimes wonder what would these walks be like if I have a companion. I might enjoy it still but perhaps not my partner, for I make a particularly boring travel mate. But I continute walking...

Ghar ka ghee

Making ghee at home is an experience. Despite non-encouragement from various quarters like amma, Bhavin (surprise and subtle) and even Muzayun, I decided to embark on this journey. I was keen to be thrifty and frugal in these times of economical downturn and thought it would be a good start - 'make your own ghee, not buy it!'.

Enough malai was collected from many days of collection process, and the time was ripe on Makar Sankranti to try this. I made the first mistake by trying to read my book while making ghee, the mixture boiled over and much of it came out. The disaster in the kitchen was thankfully limited more to the stove and the area around, but my quick cleaning attempts also didn't help matters much. Finally I resigned myself to enjoy the fire which burst out around the vessel due to the overflowing ghee!

After 50 more pages in the book and some occasional stirring, and two phone calls to amma, I was finally ready with my first ghee. I was hoping that the unadulterated ghee would smell heavenly, unfortunately it smelt of 'nothing'. But, of course, this was completely unacceptable and I finally convinced myself that there was a subtle aroma, not discernible unless you have highly advanced olfactory senses.

I am yet to use it, but I am already convinced its the best ghee ever. Waiting for some innocent visitors now so that I can experiment on them.

140

'140 or so' is what Johhny told us inside the only Synagogue in Gujarat, while telling us about the dwindling numbers of Jews in the state. From a few thousand when the Synagogue was built in the early 20th Century, through the mass exodus to Israel in 1947 and onwards, now only a few from the faith survive.

The synagogue, known as the Magen Abraham Synagogue, is located in the Khamasa area of Ahmedabad city, opposite the Zoroastrian Fire Temple. Built in the year 1934 with donations from the wealthy Jewish population (the Bene Israel Jews) in the then Mumbai Presidency, this was a replacement for an old worship area in the old city market area. The Synagogue has inscriptions in Hebrew and Marathi, and apparently some Hindu Marathi customs are also adopted due to cultural assimilation of the two faiths.

From three days a week, now public prayers are offered only once a week on Saturday in the evening, immediately after sunset. Another prominent change is in the seating area for the men and women. From an earlier arrangement when women used to sit on the second tier and men on the ground floor, now everyone shares the space opposite to the alter but on different sides. The top section has now fallen into disrepair.

Apart from all Jewish festivals, the synagogue also hosts marriage ceremony, circumcision for the new born and so on. For circumcision, a doctor has to be specially called from Mumbai. The Jewish population runs three schools in Ahmedabad, which are open to one and all.

Johnny welcomed us after a quick glance at our NID ID cards and has answers to some of our basic questions. My interest was to know more about the history of the place and the Jews in Ahmedabad. It could be an interesting trail to follow. More updates on this, as I discover more.

For anyone curious to know more about the Synagogue, this link is useful.

Over a cup of chai...

A girl walked past while I sipped tea, she was barefoot. Apparently she never wears any footwear...never ever. I don't know her name...

The stronger black pup continued to bite the other one with the cyst. The brown pup with the cyst is dead, or so they say. Mishi also almost died due to a cyst in 1994. Seems like a long time ago.

I look at my hands and wonder if future is ugly too. Someone had told me in 2007 that I am doomed with live with them. Something, somewhere is rotten inside.

The chai gets cold, I continue to sip it. It doesn't matter. I am still new to tea, started only in 2006.

A plan forms in my mind, a plan for a trip. Alone, like I always used to enjoy, seems like distant past.

Office timepass again...

Another totally timepass video with the office junta :)

This fantastic dance move is being practiced at the Restaurant Saffron in Shapath IV; that day we managed to shock as well as entertain the staff as well as the fellow guests :)