Kodachadri

Photographers: Rahul Shityalker, Prakash Reddy, 
Trek Leads: Sangamesh

Trek Group: Bangalore Trekking Club

Trek Grade: Moderate

Terrain:  Forest, Hilly, Rocky

It all began with the Karachi biscuits from Shivajinagar, the part of the city where anything from anywhere can be sold to anyone.  According to Mr. Prakash Rao, the official trek entertainer himself,  Michael Schumacher arrived there once to sell his Ferrari, after an accident involving a pole.  His tale, narrated at bonfire in the local Muslim dialect, sent the trekkers into peals of uncontrollable teary laughter.  Like the majestic Titanic that crumbled with an iceberg, this is a case of  “Brittle Steel”, the shopkeeper declares his verdict, and cheap paint, he adds, after scratching the surface with the sole fingernail on his pinky, giving Schumacher the final estimate of four grand. 

  But whether it was the sinful biscuits that vanished in seconds or the breakfast that was delayed by “just five minutes” in Nittur Standard time translating to two hours in stomach time, the consequences were without doubt dramatic, perhaps even supernatural, as some argued.  And the trekkers unanimously agreed to give thanks to goddess of the hills, Mookambika herself, after the trek.   

Sreejith, post-trek, sans backpain, alive, and no plans to divorce me ;-)

For every trekker that dreams of whisking away the love of your lives to see the beauty of your other love, the other being trekking….beware…for the path is perilous….and every stone shall burn through your soles, and every blister shall fester, for what is beauty for one is beast for another.   But the aftermath I must say is sweet victory…

Majige (Buttermilk) Hopping

But let us get on with the trek.  The Sauthekai (Cucumber) point, was one that BTC marked with great vigour with a tiny hill of cucumber peels, even as we admired the entrepreneurship of the cucumber king selling his cucumbers and buttermilk at this challenging spot. Mr Prakash Rao Reddy, our most uproariously hilarious trekker, has since received a formal invitation from the Olympic committee for a newly constituted cucumber peeling contest.  We parted from the cucumber mama after providing him with Prakash Rao’s resume, in case of a future job opening.  But all in all, majighe (buttermilk) hopping is definitely a recommended Kodachadri pastime, with quite a few vendors peddling their own unique recipes spiked with jeera, coriander leaves, and ginger among others. 

The pristine waterfalls of Kodachadri, so painfully shy a beauty, she lies nestled deep in the green forest, to be hunted ceaselessly by desperate trekkers craving a single glimpse.  The muse of many a poet and lovelorn storyteller, this dainty one reveals herself to the most gallant of all, with layers of milky white cascading down giant masses of black stone, tossing, tumbling and splashing like naughty elves at a fast game of chase, giggles, squeals et all.  And when the tired trekker stands at last beneath her full and bounteous majesty, the first splash of cold spray brings forth from him a loud shout of ecstasy, and he screams in pure joy, shivering and trembling with uncontrollable delight. 

   

Soon we finds her secret spots - a snug little cave to rest between the strong  torrent that now falls with increasing vigour. Still in her close proximity, enjoying her eager splashes that tempt you out again.  Drenched thus and visibly exhausted, the trekkers finally tear themselves away from the falls, and with final last glances, they trudge upwards into the deep, steep forest, the green canopy shrouding on either side of the forest trail.   

As always is the case with any trek, when things go wrong, they go ballistic, and when it can’t get worse, it somehow turns interesting, in the weirdest of ways.   The sumptuous feast at the top gave no indication as to what was to come, and even the most hardcore non vegetarian was intoxicated by what seemed like the most ethereal of sambar, bhindi, and a sinful holige dripping.

Can anything go wrong after that!

  And so we wondered, after a feast like that, how can a full blooded trekker take a jeep down the hill like all the commoners.  Four hours downhill at four would be a cake walk, we decided.  Of course, we don’t have torches, but we have our mobiles.  And we will take the jeep trail instead, just for security. And what happened next, is poetic history.  I mean seriously, I'm going for poetry.  

Auto-walla of the Year, A Poem

Twelve proud trekkers, they trudge up the hill,
A jeep, they laugh, is for the run-of the mill,
Buttermilks they dunk, and cucumbers they peel,
And Sauthekai point, they mark with great zeal.

Kodachadri, the falls, with eternal appeal,
A shy beauty that, to the gallant reveals,
Milky white waters, cold, surreal,
The trekkers regale, with shouts and squeals


The clock strikes five, and the sun sinks soon,
And the twelve proud trekkers, they race the moon,
Stories galore, jokes and a tune,
Down the jeep trail, ten miles since noon.

The clock strikes eight, and time slinks away,
The stones seem harsher, and longer the day,
For a thousand jeeps, we scatter, make way,
But not one stops, to save our sad day.

Miles to go before we sleep,
Smiles they beat, a slow retreat,
And just before we decide we’re dead meat,
The sole district auto, comes chugging through the street

Three hundred, says Sangu, our dear trek leader,
Shut up we cry, and bundle in the rear,
A gift from Kodachadri, a goddess of revere,
We cry, give thanks, to the auto walla of the year.

And thus with joy, ends this tiresome tale,
Of a trail gone wrong, but a trek regaled,
With memories precious, and laughter in gales,
BTC rocks, again we hail!

Horaginabetta, Horagina bette, Horagina betta

Horaginabetta

Photographs:  Sumitra Shilpa, Chethan Agasthya
Trek Leads: Raja Raju

Trek Group: Bangalore Trekking Club

Trek Grade: Moderate

Terrain:  Rocky, Grassy
EveryTrail Map: Horaginabetta

So you’ve got a giant pot belly that you blame on beer and chicken, are ready to blast the TV if it plays another ‘Get Idea’ commercial, and wonder what could be more to a weekend than meeting those same old cronies for yet another hangover-guaranteed booze session? Try shifting gears and setting off on a day trek, because there could not be a more interesting and fun way for some serious fat burning (2000 calories for six hours to be precise)!  

It was Horaginabette this long weekend, a feisty hill that stands across the Nandi Hill, in the Chikabalapur District 60 kilometers from bangalore (Logistics and Details below). The sight of twenty six odd IT professionals bundled into a stuffy BMTC bus with an ill-tempered kannada-swearing bus conductor was definitely a DSLR moment, that had to pass un-captured. 

And here is the dainty group of perfect strangers!  Photographs courtesy the talented babe Sumitra Shilpa, who is reeling under the head-on collision with yours truly in the picture below, in a bid to beat the camera timer. :-)

This writeup should begin as my trek did…with the gruesome tale of the Tippu Drop.  Although filled with disbelief, I could almost imagine Tippu standing as I did at the foot of Horagina beta for ‘a good view’, as his condemned criminals were pushed from atop Nandi Hills.  Did their screams make him giggle?  And then Sharath, my gory story teller, continued with the added tale of criminals suffocating in overcrowded jail cells.  Some kings just need better hobbies, I say!

View of Nandi from Horaginabetta

The trek took quite the exploratory turn, with newly appointed Trek Leader Raja loosing his way.  The group found itself trudging through bushes, scaling new rocks and blazing new trails.  By the end of it all, people actually began suggesting that trek leaders take to amnesia more frequently for this kind of fun! 

With around six kilometres in six hours, moderately steep climbs and a diverse terrain ranging from rocky to grassy, you will break quite the sweat.  Trails were often enveloped by giant grasslands on either side, giving a mini-forest trek effect, and the occasional itchy plant variants triggered a hilarious frenzy of scratching in all half-pant/half-sleeved trekkers by descent.

  Water shortage struck the group by summit leading to some interesting consequences. And the irresistible stream of fried goodies worsened the situation.  So the three watermelons that hitchhiked in secret rucksacks were the sexy item numbers of the day, and a bottle of melted ice struck poetry in many a heart.  Here you shall see how to mathematically divide 3 watermelons into 26!


Travelling from Bangalore:
Majestic Terminus 3, Platform 12, Chikabalapur Bus.  

Stop: Karahalli Cross.  If your bus doesn't go there, then get down at Devanahalli Stop take an auto to Karahalli Cross.  

Points to remember

1. Carry at least four liters of water.    
2. Carry juicy fruits, like oranges, watermelons and cucumbers.  
3. Wear full-sleeved clothing

And here are a few more pics.  With twenty people struggling to pose on a tiny rock, varieties of pushups and mock murder, this group was a creative photographers dream bunch.  Check out some of these crazies...

 

Animals out of Paper (Jugaad Co.) - Heartrending, Hilarious, Humbling

Can you give a flat, blank piece of paper memories?  Can you give it an experience so deep and meaningful that once you are done, the paper is no longer the same…and even if it is blank and flat as before, it feels in some way…scarred? Jugaad Co.’s Animal out of Paper tells you all this and more, as it packs in quite a few laughs, troubles you with its profoundness, and leaves you with a burning heartache.
 
The play begins in the depressing, messy apartment of Illana, the brilliant orgamist who is unable to get over her divorce and more weirdly the loss of her three-legged dog, the pains of which have snatched away her precious ability to fold.  In comes the dorky Andy, the treasurer of the origami association who can barely fold a decent heart, nursing a sweet crush on Illana for god knows how long.  Additionally he has an odd habit of listing down his blessings in his teensy notebook.  He gawks openly at her scattered foldings, fawns at her unwashed self, and fumbles out of the apartment leaving his intriguing blessing book behind.

Next comes Suresh, the seventeen year old who is too cool to fold, and won’t do as he’s told, unless he’s rapping as he’s rolls.  Ok, the guy’s a rapper, and he’s here for his origami tuition class.  Although why he needs it is anybody’s guess, because the chap folds like a genius without touching a textbook on origami while his teacher can’t fold a tissue paper without breaking into tears or swearing wildly.  His unwelcome curiosity towards everything in Illana’s apartment and tactless comments thrown around about her personal life draws easy laughter, as does his blasé attitude towards origami and everything that is important to Illana.

Naveen Richard as Suresh has you splitting with laughter every time he steps on stage: his hip-hop swagger, outrageous black talk, the smooth dance moves, the oversimplified life philosophies and solutions…this guy will keep you laughing even during the scene change!

Rebecca as Illana is a precise actor, and the confusion and pain in her life is reflected in her every move and person, whether its her own loss, the unsullied love and joy of another, the vexing interest of a third, the world unsettles her with its umpteen emotions.

But it is Anshul as Andy that robs you of your senses….for his hopefulness makes you want to count your own million blessings, his pain brings back your every torturous memory,  his sorrow grips your heart and tears it from within, and his shame leaves you humiliated and destroyed.  For all his dorkiness and infectious charm, his pain is what teaches you how easy it is to slink away from life’s depressive trials, and how much one must work to stay as happy as Andy.

So will Rebecca finally fold?  Will Andy win Illana’s attention?  Will Illana and Suresh end up killing each other, geniuses that they both are, while the audience laughs away?  Written by Rajiv Joseph and directed by Jimmy Xavier, this play is a definite winner, so dash off to Jagriti and find out!

Event: Jugaad Co. presents Animals out of Paper (Comedy Drama)

Kashmir Great Lakes

Note: For the cut-the-crap/get-to-the-point would-be trekkers, please check out the tips and tricks section at the end of the post! 

 Kashmir Great Lakes

• Date: July 11 to 18, 2014, (8 days)
• Maximum Altitude 13,750 feet, 4200 meters
• Trek Grade: Medium Difficult
• Adventure Group: IndiaHikes
• Trek Leaders - Riyaz Bhai (Local Guide), Vivian Sebastian (Trek Leader, IH), Revant (Asst. TL) 

So an ideal trek document should, as IndiaHikes would suggest, begin with Day 1, proceed to Day 7, state altitude, temperature (both inside and outside the tent), how informed the guide was (no, not how handsome he was), useful information like watering holes, preferably avoid first person, include a dash of folklore, distance between camps, and a whole bunch of mathematical and factual data that my mind isn’t  too equipped to process, especially considering the fact that I forgot to carry a book and a pen (Yeah Anand, along with a bunch of other useful stuff like my plate, my glass, my spoon, but of course remembering my makeup kit, adding enough weight, as per my trek mates to require offloading.  But at least I got to be great friends with the kitchen folk!).  

The Wolf Pack!  Adarsh, Adirath, Arastu, Amel, Anand, Amit, Akshay, Ajit, Ambuj, Pooja, Divya, Heramb, Vijay, Yashas, Nitesh, Shrey, Arvind, Meghna (Not in order of photograph :-).  That's me in the right corner with a pink cap and the giga gloves)

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Oxymeter blues,  One of the temperatures that did concern me quite a bit though, was that of various parts of my body, in no particular order of interest.  For instance my finger (perverts, what were you expecting?).   I remember the incessant hooting and laughter of the trekkers as trek lead Vivian screamed a jovial “DESCENT” as the oxymeter refused to register my finger for lack of minimum body temperature….every single day!  And of course, when it did register, my pulse was on a race to the finish while my oxygen slogged laboriously at the end.  Hmmmm, sweet memories.

The Red King

Coming back to my lack of (mental) equipment for a trek document, one of the frequent sights I cherished on the trek was fellow trekker Ambuj’s dedication to his miniscule notebook and pen, at which he labored daily with facts and figures he recorded from his pedometer, with the most adorable of expressions.  Forgive my tendency to borrow from childhood tales, but the size discrepancy triggered mental associations of the tiny Red King of Alice in wonderland, the one stuck with the hugely oversized memorandum book and gigantic pencil, puzzling at his looking-glass book of mirror words.

Ambuj

(To quote the red queen: “You will forget it, my dear, if you don’t make a memorandum of it”).  Now that’s where you can get your real trek document. 

 

And then there was Aristo, our dear video blogger, who took great pains to interview the sheep and the wild dogs that we met on trail with equal vigor as he did us humans.  Now here’s a guy that knows to laugh at himself and make the world laugh with him.  Fashion highlight of the trip was definitely his purple (not pink, please note) raincoat!

Trekkers high (as opposed to runners high), is definitely a term Arvind and I should get credit for coining.  It is a high experienced after a human body pushes itself at an ascent so strenuous that after a certain threshold, beta endorphins are released to mitigate the pain resulting in a kind of euphoria.  There were times that I was too exhausted to even cry, as my mind, reduced to subconscious animal-like abilities, watched through a narrow tunnel, Arvind and Yashes striding forward relentlessly.  At the peak, you collapse, and voices tell you to take in the view, but all you take in is air first and water next, until your mind and vision clears, your lungs expand, and the endorphins hit you along with the Himalayan breeze, and then you take in the cursed beauty that is Kashmir, this seductress, this temptress that can rip your heart apart and reduce you to helpless tears as you behold her arrogant allure.  No Malana cream needed there. 

Romance (Out of question), I present to you one important learning, people: I know all that great romantic advice about taking your partner along with you on a trek before getting married and stuff, yeah, good, no argument there.  But no better way to meet a bunch of crazy whackos on a trek than being single and ready to mingle (yes, even the married folks like yours truly).   If you wanna bring friends, bring one. Yes, add that to the list of things to get: one friend, not any more, not any less, and preferably one with which you don’t generally share the bed (you know what I mean).    And romantic as Kashmir was, tents are demarcated by gender, so unless you care to recreate youthful thrills of stealing in to your wife’s or girlfriend’s tent while her roomie snores, holding your beloved’s hand or luggage is the only action you’re getting!

Toilet humor, and the shamelessness with which we indulged in it regardless of gender was something I would say was unique to this wild trek experience.  Comments like, “I love it when people use baby wipes, it smells so good”, shared tips on best nature call spots, how to moon the moon, army spotlights on you while you take an open-air leak, “you know what, ditch that bathroom tent, nothing like doing your morning business facing the majesty of nature”,  “don’t take photographs of the bathroom tent, the sun is high and someone might be inside”.   But of course,  I mustn’t be play a spoiler and reveal toilet facility details…..some things must stay a pleasant surprise.  But let me sum up by mentioning my all-time favorite delivered by Delhi boys Adirath/Nitesh after trek completion, finally in the midst of city comforts, that weirdly summed up the entire trek experience for me (while it had me rolling with laughter)….”Nitesh….tumko western toilet main chill karna hain kyaa?!”

Memories of a Shower, Let me take this moment to note that I did make the Sonmargh campsite local news on the very first day by taking a shower in the nearby Sindh stream, and the sight of my return to camp with a towel wrapped mallu style supposedly generated great interest along with snide Lyril Ad comments, resulting in all subsequent conversation starters with perfect strangers beginning with “so you're the one who took the shower, yes yes, I heard about that”.   Needless to say, I was given a severe tongue lashing with threats of descent if I ever made further contact with what was supposedly freshly melted ice.  Anti-bacterial powder showers was the hygiene tip of the day.  

Riyaz Bhai,  Multi-talented, smooth-talking Kashmiri guide, whose ideas of trek leadership can definitely stir up a storm.  Giving out

Riyaz Bhai, our local guide, stuck with my makeshift daypack

accurate trail details supposedly took the fun out of leading a trek, and nothing gives you the kicks as a herd of city-bred trekkers with absolutely no idea.  But of course, he would entertain you with his antics on the way, be it boot skiing, butt skiing, slippery-rock skipping or simply keeping his boots and sole track pants spick and span while ours returned splattered everyday in designer dirt patterns.  Add a bunch of hilarious trek stories featuring army men to nefarious elements to idiotic trekkers, and you have enough to keep you 'rofl'ing till the end.  Check out his boot skiing show-off session:

Mountain Passes

Wikipedia: A mountain pass is a route through a mountain range or over a ridge. If following the lowest possible route, a pass is locally the highest point on that route. Since many of the world's mountain ranges have presented formidable barriers to travel, passes have been important since before recorded history, and have played a key role in trade, war, and migration.

With KGL, we encountered three passes:

Nichnai Pass, (the pass I nearly fainted with exhaustion and cried for my mommy, with Riyaz Bhai pulling me up like a useless train bogey for around 200 meters or so), was day 2 and the last time we received telephone connectivity.  

Gadsar Pass, a 45 minute steep climb from Kishansar lake, is another endorphin high point, and the highest point of the trek at 13,750 feet.  As it was Day 5, I think I’d outgrown crying.   Here you open your eyes to a combined view of Kishan and Vishnu sars on one side, and a snow trail on the other. 

Zach Pass, does not include photographs, as I was undergoing self-diagnosed feet hypothermia, triggered by wet socks.  For some reason, my brain is unaware of the fact that wet clothing (it had just rained) makes the world colder than it actually is.   As I could hardly hold a dried puri, turning on the mobile camera was out of question.   

Your Very First Lake, Viewing your first lake at KGL can be personally quite overwhelming.  The tension is mounting, you've heard much about it,  people tell you to close your eyes until you reach the first vantage point, you aren't really sure what's really happening or where what is located, and voila....you take in your first view with a sharp intake of breath.   Nothing prepares you for that! Of course, in the due course of the trek, you see great many lakes, sometimes two at a time, sometimes at a distance, sometimes nameless lakes, you try different (photo) angles, test the waters, take a quick dip when no one is watching, spend hours just watching the water ripple through, taking in the different sounds. But your first lake... is always special.  

Kishansar my second lake ;-)

Sexy 'Gatorade blue' Gadsar Lake

The sexiest of the lot is no doubt Gadsar,  a radient 'Gatorade blue' as the boys called it, this one comes with the mystique of interspersed frozen ice.








Twin-lakes of Nandkul and Gangbal, with ten points for clarity and another ten for shameless theft from my DSLR-carrying tent-mate Meghna.  Special mention to your blog in recompense, my dear! Candid Photographer, Meghna Shirish.  

Terrain/Rain/Snow, A typical day involves a few kilometers of steep ascent followed by a blissful length of plains or descents.  Of course, the earlier days are more ascent-based and later days more descent-based.  But one generally thinks of descents or plains as the blissful rewards of a torturous ascent.  Your luck is generally connected to the absence of rains, and can decide whether you can or cannot complete this trek (I heard that groups have returned without completion). 

  The terrain is generally a great mix of hilly, rocky, snow-filled, watery, plains and super-fast descents all in sufficient quantities to give you a complete wild adventure experience.   You may see different people excel at different terrains, so while one speeds across rocks, the same curses the snow. 

Briefing Time + Dinner, Despite the fact that briefing time was when my pulse raised to beat the dropping temperature and I huddled in a corner with layers and layers of clothing/gloves/socks, hardly saying a word, it somehow made to the list of top moments.  Just that unique feeling of a group that reached this far together, the complaints we had, the jokes cracked, the threat of the oxymeter readings and associated hooting, the dinner, the surprise of dessert, and the sleeping bag redistribution.  

Trek Luxuries

• Soup served in the freezing cold
• Rasna greeting you at camp after a day-long trek
• Sumptuous dinner with dessert ranging from custard to gajar halwa to honey-filled cakes baked without ovens
• Hillman sleeping bags with thermal inners designed for -10 degrees
• Luxury Tents
• Mules to carry tents, sleeping bags, gas cylinders and cooking utensils
• Offline offloading
• Physiotherapist trek leader Vivien for every embarrassing physical problem

Homage to Forclaz Quechua 500/Which shoes to Buy

Here lies the Woodland shoes of Adarsh Chandrashekar, (July 11 - July 18, 2014),  claimed prematurely by the final treacherous Zach-Nandkul 1400 ft descent, braving its final fall wrapped in gaudy shoelaces, rags and wild weeds.  It will indeed be sorely missed by all (especially heartless Forclaz owners who were thanking their stars at this sight).  May this martyr help in the decision making of all future IH trekkers to come.  






Forclaz Symbium Access 70+10 (Rs 8999/-)

Ok, I offloaded, so I am not exactly entitled to talk about this bag.  But I still know that this was the envy of the trekking crowd, (many even tried carrying it around), with its comfortable back padding, steel rods and brilliant ventilated back support (Arvind: "I can carry this all day, man!").  Its got a lovely movable pouch, which can be pulled and fixed over your chest, allowing you to retreive things without removing your backpack.  Hope to give a better user review of this by my next trek.  Forclaz Symbium Access 70+10

Tips and Tricks

Please note that my listing of these tips is no indication of how well I implemented them!

1. Muddy Pant Problem (Courtesy: Revant):  Roll up your soggy, besplattered pants once you reach camp into five or six folds (or more).  This helps your pants to dry up quickly, and behold, dirt comes flaking off once it is dry.  Give it an extra rub afterwards, and it is ready to be worn again (and again, and again.....yes....most likely all seven days)
2. Muddy Pant Problem (Courtesy: Riyaz Bhai):  Watch how the mountain folk walk. Supposedly, the distance between their legs while walking is larger than that of city folks, who have a tendency seemingly, to keep them closer, splashing mud on the other leg.  Hence you can see all dirt accumulating on the inside of your leg, in some unique designer patterns!
3. Headaches (Courtesy Vivian/Revant): The forehead needs to be covered at all times (caps/bandannas/monkey caps), especially in the cold, to prevent headaches. This rule was so strictly enforced, that we couldn't recognize one another without caps! Apart from Diamox when troubled with acclimatization, ORS is a huge huge must to prevent other forms of headaches.  
4. Acclimatization Alternatives: If you are on a Diamox course, great (except of course for the loose motions)!.  If you are allergic to sulpha drugs like my tent mate, and develop sexy Penelope-style pouts, garlic is supposed to be a good substitute for Diamox!  Breathing exercises in the open air also seemed to help my numbers.  Anemia can also get you into trouble with acclimatization, supposedly (Oxygen, Haemoglobin, school-level biology, blah). 
5. Shades and Snow blindness:  Shades are a must in snow to prevent snow blindness, caused when the sun reflects off the abundant snow. 
6. Wet Shoe Problem:  Stuff old newspapers to dry the insides of your shoes.  
7. Follow the Shitty Trail:  If you get lost, follow the shitty trail left by the mules!  
8. Walking on the Snow:  Stomp.  Ground your heels in first to avoid slipping.  Stamping on mule shit left on the snow also gives a good grip :-).
9. Walking on Rocks:  Move quickly and fearlessly.  Fear is what causes one to fall.  If you are fast, and on a shaky rock, you are on the next one before you fall.   
10. Hiking poles:  Avoid usage on plains or descents to save up on energy.  On an ascent, poles should be in the hand that is on the mountain side, so that in the event of a fall, your pole provides additional support. Good Link from IH.  How to use a Trekking Pole. 
11. Tent Ettiquette: Leave the tents closed at all times to prevent the chill from stealing in.   
12. Don't run down descents:  You will hurt your knees.
13. GPS/Google Maps:  Google now has an offline mode where you can store maps and use GPS!  I do hope someone tries this out on a KGL trek!
14. Men, Sun screens and Lip Gloss:  With all that ten kilo makeup kit sneering that I endured, I must note the great satisfaction i feel when I see men scrambling for Lip gloss or sun screen as layers of their skin peel off and heavy flaking sets in!  Do reapply sunscreen at your lunch break (your morning application will not suffice).
15. Snacking:  Raisins, dried dates, glucose, ORS, chocolate.  Ditch the rest. Nuts take a long time to digest and is not going to give you energy. So don't pack a ton like i did.
16. Diarrhoea Tip (Very common in the mountains): Pack an extra roll of toilet paper, Baby Wipes and ORS!    
17. Rains & Bollywood Heroin Confused Identity Tip - If you have a tendency to take to flights of fancy when it drizzles, and need to go gallivanting in the rain (who does such things, really) with filmi music that only you can hear, please remember to CHANGE even your outermost clothing and socks, and also remember that drying may not be a common option with the sun absconding for days when Kashmir takes on her rainy avatar.  
18. Additional Body Training I would do next time:  Tread mill training with rucksack with dumbbells on an incline, weights training at the gym for back strengthening.  
19. Compartmentalize your Rucksacks with Color coded bags - Living out of a rucksack can get really confusing. 
20. Packing mistakes I made: 

• Too many clothes.  Trek leads can survive on a single track pant!
• Packing half sleeves. 
• Too many undergarments!
• Too much food.
• Too much stuff. 

'Shipwrecked' at Bangalore

 'Shipwrecked' at Bangalore

A shimmering array of green, blue and red rays bathe the stage space as the two actors with fluorescent little wands, glide around like magical sea creatures, complete with unearthly cries, and as the drums rumble, the stage transforms into a sea floor of pearls, recreated with the admirable ingenuity of nothing but soap bubbles.  

Shipwrecked is a tale of the adventures of Louis de Rougement (“as told by Himself”), from his days as a sickly child who dreams of a fascinating world outside, to when he chases his dreams against the ravages of land and sea, sailing with pirates and pearl hunters, riding giant sea turtles, grappling with a raging storm, getting shipwrecked on a lonely island with none but a trusted dog, his escape to the land of the Aborigines, and his final return to England where he tells his tale to a greedy public.  

The tale comes alive in the hands of a masterful storyteller, a brilliant onstage percussionist for all accompanying sounds, and two actors who play the dazzling array of characters in the adventure: a pirate, a faithful dog, fishes of the sea, Louis’s French mother, Aborigines, Australians, scholars, scientists, and even the queen. 

 With a quick onstage change of a hat or a coat, an apron here, a crown of flowers there, and an expert change of body language and voice, the pirate becomes a loving mother, the dog becomes an aborigine and the street smart publisher becomes the aging queen, in masterful symphony and synchronization. 

 The play maintains a light mood throughout, right from the humorous yet powerful narrative of David Morden to the simple imperfections maintained in costume changes. 

The character of the dog with just a simple doggy cap, played by Joseph McGrath, was definitely a heart render: barking away with enthusiasm, howling in fear as the storm approaches, cuddling up to his increasingly lonely master, growling with jealousy as his master gets close to a woman, and finally enjoying a rub in the belly in a moment of unrestrained pleasure. 

Patty Gallagher meanwhile, dazzled the audience with her countless talents: the graceful movements of a ballerina, the talented mimicking of a dozen sounds from a crying baby to a flying bird, the effortless execution of different accents, and an enchanting voice. 

Rogue Theater also shows a daring to break barriers of genders and avoid conformity: So Patty plays the rugged pirate Captain Jenson, barking away strict orders in the face of a violent storm, while Joseph plays the queen and a stylish socialite!  

The ninety minutes of Shipwrecked, a masterpiece of storytelling, is directed by Cynthia Meier, and written by Pulitzer Prize winner Donald Margulies. The choice of Jagriti as a theatre space, with its restrictions of exits, ensures that actors remain on stage throughout while the close proximity of actors to the audience, adds a certain magic to the performance making the audience feel a part of the enthralling adventure. The effortless costume changes of the thirty odd characters are facilitated by a wardrobe of feathery hats, coats, skirts, garlands and other finery hung tastefully on racks on either ends of the stage, while the percussionist sits at the back end of the stage with his drums and an ensemble of interesting yet suspect musical instruments (a toy horn, a whistle, and a large black metal sheet for the storm rumbles, perhaps?).
 

On the whole, there is no doubt that Shipwrecked has stormed Bangalore, running full house for multiple shows and ending in standing ovations, and the overwhelming response reason enough for Rogue theatre to return once again not just to entertain, but to inspire the theatre scene in Bangalore. Note: Shipwrecked is based on a true story! Louis de Rougemont

Here is my personal description of the flowers in the Valley. Please be ensured that it could be totally biased and judgemental

Gualtheria is a blue fruit! One that is a perfect candidate to be cast in the role of a poisonous apple if it was larger than a peanut. Crush it to get the lovely smell of eucalyptus. Just don't eat it as its almost like drinking eucalyptus. Bleakhhhhhhh.

The lovely bell flowers are always accompanied by my personal favorite...Codonopsis....It gave me quite a delight searching for it among the bells, reminding me of a shy dependent guy hiding among the forthright violets...ok...let not my homosexual curiosities come out it my botany text content.

Brutally put, seeing the Valley of Flowers without her stunning Primulas, is like seeing a Queen in her ordinary clothes instead of her evening gown. But I am almost tempted to say that seeing the Himalayan blue poppy, rightly called the Himalayan queen almost made up for that, but let me not fall into temptations. So with great difficulty, we climbed down dangerous rocks to photograph the camera shy queen...only to find her majesty's bounty spread across the Hemkund slopes later. But I can only tell those that blame me for my lack of good sense that it was worth getting down there, gently sprinkling water on the queen, then photographing her, then photographing us taking a photograph of her, then making Prani stand below for a photo in which he was not there anyway...now that's the stuff life's made out of, honey, not a holy slope covered with all the poppies that you ever wanted, for heaven's sake.

The Cobra lily that was lurking in the valley during our visit could hardly be classified as threatening. It was with great difficulty that we twisted its neck, and turned it to the camera, to make it look like a menacing hood.

Now the Brahmakamals are definitely a flower variety, whose size and shape are quite sufficient to command the godly respect that we Indians are so ready to extend to anything that can evoke the slightest form of fear. This flower is one that boasts of day long festivals in temples that I wouldn't be surprised if they were dedicated to her alone.

The Saussureas are nothing but horrible looking ugly creatures (which are also prayed to unfortunately). But I guess we should appreciate the fact that we Indians can pray to such horrible looking Gods like these and not just handsome looking gods like our western friends. Anyway, these definitely looked like a flower that my dear sister would have happily painted and displayed as an art piece even without taking the effort of drying it.

Trekking tales - The Valley of Flowers

I'm honestly sick of all this travel log crap. I come back everyday with a headache the size of the Himalayas. The expectation that my creative juices must overflow seems to be .... Even otherwise, my mind refuses to budge. The sight of the amazing Himalayas, gushing waters and resplendent greenery all refuse to evoke the urge that a writer is compelled to feel when exposed to such beauty. And finally, it is while i sit in this dingy hotel, surrounded by a million flies that neither the fan not the fly repellent seem to have the least bit of effect, with nothing better to do than revisit the 100 meter town around me, I decided to write.

So let us begin with the negative qualities of all the fellow trekkers with me. Call me ill humored, but I am dead sure that that would be much more interesting than a graphic description of the particular green of the Himalayan juniper which you are better of seeing with your own eyes than through my words anyway.

One of the ironical learnings I gained in this trek is that I seem to get irritated with people with characters that are similar to mine. I know that my friends might question the irony, considering that I have assimilated quite a large collection of irritating qualities into my character. But I choose to see it as an amazing actuality that needs to be discussed and wondered upon.

Let us take the case of Ms Qjada, who ignores the girls, but is hugely chummy with whatever few guys that were part of our largely feminine trekking group or Ms Business Woman, whose only fault was that she was extremely outright and frank, a quality rarely appreciated, as we Indians prefer the truth unsaid. An exception to the theory of reflected hatred, was the Hostel Warden who reminded me of every warden that had taken delight in chucking me out of hostels in the days I tried desperately to fit into society. She definitely fit into the stereotype of marriage being the end of youth and the start (or continuation) of being self centered and selfish.

But I guess trekking is basically putting in a lot of effort to get someplace so that you can find out for yourself that it was nothing great anyway. Maybe all my Laissez Faire friends have a point anyway...why take so much of effort to do something to be happy when you can try to do nothing and be happy.