On preparation for a village visit

How much law can a human mind take in one day?

The batch is primed for the week long village visit. We will see how it goes. Like trek, the village visit is the defining feature for the Foundation Course. The expectation is that the visit will sensitise the OTs to the lifestyle of Bharat, the face of India that is strangely sanitized in our media and cultural references. Therefore one sees the brilliant blue skies and the mustard fields and Shah Rukh Khan and Kajol or Kareena Kapoor running after each other looking for some good old hay to roll around in, frisky as they were, living out a yuppie's idea of rural life. You will not find a single villager doing any work in the fields in the movies when the hero and the heroine are around on the screen. More power to the Bollywood.

Few OTs are rather pleased with the location of the village they are visiting. Thanks to Google Maps, they learnt the location of the nearest MNC burger chain. The village is not so much a village, according to them, as it is a dispersed mall. You have the synthesized food store chains, you have the branded textile outlets elsewhere, you have the latest smartphone selling outlet as well as a dish TV connection. A collection of hutments blooming on the summer slopes of the wide ranging consciences.

On Wardrobe Malfunctions, High Table Dinners and Science Day Celebrations

It is late in the day. And it was a long day. There will be times in the FC when a day just does not seem to end. The day starts with the PT. Even the most optimistic, rationalizing human being would find it hard to wake up early in the morning and trudge down to Polo grounds in the increasingly biting cold, day after day after day. What may be an unequal compensation for the disruption in sleep, comfort and warmth? A glimpse of the sky shy of dawn and full of stars.

Then there are guest lectures. Thanks to small and very rare mercies like documentaries/short films/clippings being shown in auditoria. If the support staff supports by dimming the ambient lights one can catch up on few much needed winks. Even if one tries sincerely not to sleep in the class, taking such extreme measures as skipping breakfast etc, one can be assured of a visit by the Nidra Devi. 

This day was celebrated as Science Day, commemorating the 105th birth anniversary of Homi J Bhabha. There were couple of lectures on implementation of innovative technologies by government agencies. Contrary to the commonly held belief that the abundant number of government run labs and scientific organizations do negligible work, there are few such government run organizations headed by passionate, knowledgeable, courageous civil servants doing commendable work. However, they may be more an exception than the rule. We still have a large number of autonomous, semi-autonomous, deemed autonomous, wannabe autonomous and other manner of organizations purportedly researching weighty matters in science and technology, guzzling public funds like many fat caterpillars and nothing to show for their years of existence. Instead of a bias for action, the bureaucrats and technocrats of these organizations have a bias for status quo.

 As a part of the Science Day celebrations, a declamation contest was held on whether science can be an equilibrium between development and sustainable existence.

The 3rd Cultural Programme was a qualified success. I must clarify, the qualification is of the highest order. Why do I put everything in bureaucratese? The highlight of the show, in my juvenile opinion, is that of the image of an affable gentleman officer trainee holding the dhoti up by both hands, protecting his modesty with admirable ease. We need more near wardrobe malfunctions to spice up the staid proceedings of the FC once in a while. There were glitches in the programme but considering that the OTs were quite hard pressed for time, even the effort of putting up the show was admirable. I always believe that trying one's best despite adverse conditions shows one's character. 

The evening does not end here though. The highlight of the evening was the lecture by Dr. Raghuram Rajan, Governor of the Reserve Bank of India. He has had a distinguished career as an economist and academician. It was interesting to listen to his experiences in navigating the political and bureaucratic maze in India. The lecture was followed by a formal dinner with the chief guest. It was an awkward sight, the chief guest and others at the high table and couple of hundred OTs gawking at the admittedly handsome alum of IIT D and IIM A. One needs to get used to more such awkward sights I suppose.

On Paucity of News

The paucity of material to write about pinches me oftener than in the past. Has the academy become non-happening at once or am I too steeped in my stupor to not notice the colourful goings on? 

History will judge me kindly. :)

The thing about corruption is that any amount of talk on tackling corruption runs the danger of sounding platitudinous. Nevertheless when very senior functionaries with vast experience in policing, speak, they speak from their distilled experience as anti-corruption crusaders.

The Officer Trainees' lounge in the Karmshila building is a cosy place for the OTs to hang out at in their leisure. The lounge has plush carpeting and comfortable cushions seated in which the OTs can make meetings happen till the cows have all come home, had their dinner, bedded down and started chewing their cud. A snooker table finds frequent players who avoid the comfort of the sofas and have taken one too many cues.

There are pigeon hole lockers, sans locks I believe, close to the snooker table and the music room. The lockers yield surprising amounts of photocopied study material, week schedules, forms to be filled for claiming TA, DA, sizes of winter clothing, etc. They are the very magic hats out of which myriad unlovely hares emerge. I recall the 'Water of India' trick of the magician P.C. Sorcar watched many decades ago. The trick involved a 'lota' being filled with water (miracle worth pooja in its own right) from time to time even after being emptied at the same frequency by the magician. I would not be surprised if one day even a genie were to emerge.

Preparations are on in full swing for the 3rd Cultural Programme. We also have scheduled for tomorrow, a speech by a key functionary in the banking system. 

This bulletin ends here.

On Shattered Hubris

Most of the batch went rafting on the Sunday. Yours truly skipped the adventure sport. How many times can a man bop up and down in a raft over the same rapids?

From second hand reports of rafting, one gathers that the said event was the highlight of the FC so far. I salute the spirit of eternal curiosity and enthusiasm among my fellow OTs who had it in them to raft in the infernal cold waters immediately a day after pounding the tarmac on a 10km run.

Over the past couple of days, one was in an artificial psyched mood over an essay that needed to be written. An important lesson this exercise taught me was to curb my hubris. It was a good lesson. I assumed that I would write not one but three essays of 5k words each. In final analysis, I was lucky I could complete at least one and that with a vast deficit of words required. Thus eating the humble pie, which despite the bitter taste was filling, I slipped the offending inferior literary work under the hypothetical online door with barely minutes left. The adrenaline rush was nice. That however does not explain the binge eating and insane caffeine injection. Or the compulsive movie watching and fiction reading (not fictional!). The movie 'Paprika' (2006) by Satoshi Kon was a revelation. I had watched 'Perfect Blue' (1997) and 'Millennium Actress' (2001) by the same director, earlier. 'Paprika' seemed a distillation of a decade of the finest Manga that Nippon has ever produced as interpreted by a very gifted director. I am a poor reviewer, for, even three days after watching the movie, one is in awe of the movie. This movie review in the grand old lady of news papers, is a good read.

All this gallivanting instead of sincere application of one's mind to an essay was not without its fruits. One learnt two new words-fernweh and sehnsucht. Both are German and each has a profound meaning. For example, fernweh means literally "farsickness" or "longing for far-off places." It may reflect an intense urge for self-development by experiencing the unknown, confronting unforeseen challenges, getting to know unfamiliar cultures, ways of life and behaviours. (Wikipedia).  Sehnsuch means yearning, longing (wistful or melancholy desire). It has been referred to as “life’s longings” or an individual’s search for happiness while coping with the reality of unattainable wishes. (Wikipedia).

On Cross Country Run

A lady officer from the Royal Bhutan Civil Service and a gentleman officer from the Royal Bhutan Forest Service topped the charts in the respective categories for the 10km cross country run. In a testimony to the fitness of the batch, the top 5 positions had very little gap between them.  The run was done and everyone is fitter for the effort. One can burn many calories in a 10km run. One can gain manifold calories too after stuffing one's face with freshly made jalebis, rabri, pakodas, assorted breakfast items. That is precisely what many OTs proceeded to do after the exhausting run.

Who would have thought that the OTs of varied physical fitness would complete running a 10km race at a decent clip?! The best feature of the  Foundation Course is its location, methinks. The hills do force the OTs to challenge themselves with surprising results.

Nimbu paani and glucose water was kept available at regular intervals but were not really needed as the weather was cool and was invigorating instead of the enervating conditions found in the plains. The hills they have eyes and they have hearts too.

On Facebook Likes

Narcissism is a must have attribute for writer pretenders. Compulsive checking of number of 'likes' on Facebook and the page view count on blogger are examples of narcissism. Is narcissism harmless?

The 'likes' on Facebook are value neutral. Say, for example, a morally unscrupulous fellow may 'like' many posts and signify virtual acquiescence or enthusiastic endorsement of the content. How would anyone know if the fellow was 'liking' the post in a mocking manner? Likes dripping with sarcasm, perhaps? None would be wiser. Why does not Facebook give a colour code to the 'like' icon? Like, green if the object of FB like is of barf inducing quality or a jealousy triggering post. Yellow for Coldplay's song. Blue for the warmest colour. Metallic pink for iron willed women with a penchant for girly things. Acid red for all things wrong with social network narcissism. Et cetera.

One tries and tries to increase the 'like' count. Most efforts would be quite futile.

 

On the other hand, there are posts by certain others which garner millions of 'likes' and gain one's eternal enmity.

 

However, one knows that the likes are like turds out in the open. They smell only for a short duration and they disintegrate soon enough. Probably the reason why open defecation is still the most preferred and popular method among OTs on long treks, villagers and other country men.

The inbound traffic for this blog is Facebook in preponderance. However, few innocuous Google queries too land an unsuspecting visitor on this blog. A curious cat wanted to know 'chicken being served in lbsnaa,' another finicky citizen queried as to how lbsnaa is pronounced. The chicken being served in lbsnaa is delicious to say the least. We are also served mutton, fish, paneer, fruits according to season, eggs to order, fresh fruit juices, coffee and tea (the milky varieties), delicious brownies, dosas, idlis, uthappams, indeterminate 'Chinese food' and other edible items. Is the chicken being served halal or jhatka? Is it from a certified, free range, organic, natural farm and sustainably marketed? I am not sure. As for pronunciation of lbsnaa, it is pronounced 'labaasna.' If you can do it with an accent and finesse, you can even pass it off as French.

Enough of navel gazing. There is an act for Prevention of Corruption. There are institutions for tackling corruption. There are punishments for the corrupt public servants. Yet we have not moved an inch towards a corruption free country. 

Civil servants are expected to be acquainted with quantitative methods among other desirable skill sets. And so I meet my two old enemies- stairs and statistics. Hopefully they will no longer be my enemies by the end of this FC.

The cross country run race is scheduled for tomorrow. All the best for the long distance runners.

On Diwali at the academy

Diwali/Deepawali at the academy was a semi-festive occasion. The lunch brought the batch together. There were activities by the Fine Arts Club which kept the artistically inclined occupied for the day. Like rangoli and painting. The participants must be appreciated for their efforts. Here are few examples of their works.

To abstraction

Wishing well

Rangoli prepared by the OTs

A sample of the fireworks show

Cross current of fireworks

The artistically challenged like me spent the day lazing, recovering from the hectic non-reading for the mid term exam.

There were attempts made to decorate parts of the common areas with diyas. They were valiant efforts by few people. However, without almost anal retentive level planning, illumination of wide open spaces is a tough proposition. As a KGPian and that too from RK Hall I can say this with certain level of confidence. One only needs to see illumination from KGP to know what they are missing when trying to do anything with diyas. Yes, Diwali is a legitimate reason to get senti about KGP.

The fireworks show was good while it lasted, which, like most crushes, was for a woefully short duration. However, efforts to procure fireworks and plan on having a resemblance of a fireworks show in itself is reason enough to applaud the efforts.

Lady OTs turned out in dazzling, colourful ethnic wear and were by all accounts brighter than a million diyas put together. Gentlemen OTs, those who made the effort to dress up in ethnic wear, were still not a patch on the ladies. 

What was missing? Sweets! Tonnes of them. I miss the wide assortment of sweets that are de rigueur on Diwali in northern India and the gratuitous stuffing of oneself with as many sweetmeats as possible.

One's family is missed on these festive occasions. For those who could not join their families on account of distances and time and archaic no leave rules of the FC were seen trying their best to be present in the academy mentally too. Their hearts and their minds were with their families, their loved ones.

I found a rather curious happening as regards the ITBP guards posted at various points of the campus. Yesterday, few guards were overheard speculating on their chances of getting a day off on Diwali. One was unpleasantly surprised to find guards of a particular community having been posted for the sentry duties today. The motive may have been pious, but the intention can be misconstrued a thousand ways. Such practices are likely to reinforce expectations and behaviours that are contrary to the ethos of the uniformed forces. This is a dangerous path to go down.

How would you as a civil servant deal with such situations? Would you opt for convenience over hard choices? How would you handle the demands for leave from all quarters on such hot holidays?

On an Omelette Centre

In the end so much ado about a five minute struggle with the papers. Anyway what is done is done. However, one realizes that studying has not only to be done but also manifestly and undoubtedly be seen to be done. To this end a large number of groups of OTs had hurried conferences on legal, managerial, economic, administrative and political aspects of things they thought were important, on stairs, on lawns, near ramps and other open places. The exam halls and the surrounding areas felt like the premises of a school during annual exams time. Esprit de corps was exhibited in good measure. Everyone passed through the needle's eye, so to speak.

Lovely Omelette Centre is a place for grossly over priced good omelettes. The omelette comes as a fluffy, cheesy confection swaddling two slices of bread. The cheese omelette is the priciest and the clever proprietor places this item after an unhealthy sounding, cheaper alternative, the 'oil omelette.' The 'centre' is a hole in the wall off the main road of the Kulri Bazaar. The omelette was good, over all, but one pays through the nose for what is essentially an omelette. A very good omelette.

We will be celebrating our first Diwali as civil servants. Burst some crackers (safely and within reason) on behalf of us..

On Transect Walk and Edible Rural Research

The transect walk practice was to give us a practical experience of few primary research tools in rural studies in preparation for our village visit scheduled in November. It involves walking along a path and observing and noting various aspects of the surroundings such as the gradient, the soil profile, vegetation, land usage etc. We did a short transect walk from the parking lot to the Director's lawn. Other groups did various other exercises like 'chapati' diagram, aloo parantha comparison, egg bonda bar chart, chicken mughlai analysis etc. I suppose it went well for the other groups.

That is all for today.

On monkeys and on mid terms

A distinguished, decorated and senior ex-police officer visited the academy to deliver a lecture on leadership. The part of the message that resonated with me the most was when the visiting dignitary exhorted the OTs to be anti establishment to an extent possible. Here is a civil servant who even after 37 years working inside the 'system' did not become jaded or turn a cynic. Contrast with the outlooks of civil servants of some vintage (say 10 years) as expressed during the literary festival.

An exam chill has descended on the batch. Conversations among the OTs begin and end with the customary query of how far down the preapration lane one has gone. There are hushed whispers of answers of the extent of one's preparation. There are remedial classes by few kindred souls specializing in hard to understand subjects. The KTPs may be sharpening their knives (pens, same thing) to go in for the kill. Then there are the clueless and the give-up (gibbups) types who for some reason feel they have transcended the levels of exams and other methods fo testing one's intellect/memory power. These gibbups may have the added disadvantage of an unfavourable age on their side. A civil servant, the calculative, manipulative, oily character that he is, would have figured out what needs to be done to survive in this OT eat OT world. Or he may genuinely be clueless.

The OTs take a tumble from time to time when not studying like it is the end of the world. They may drop off a horse while riding or be attacked by a troop of monkeys while minding one's business. These are occupational hazards for civil servants. Especially the monkeys. The langurs when they dash across cobble stone paved open spaces make a thundering noise as if they are arboreal equines, sans the horse shoes. They are powerful creatures that need to be given a wide berth. The monkeys, on the other hand, while only a little lesser disagreeable than the langurs, are nevertheless dangerous if the troop has infant monkeys. All said and done, our simian relatives and neighbours tend to be uncivil towards the civil servants. One finds the incline and the steps up to the academic area from the hostels often strewn with monkey faeces, a singularly unpleasant sight when one is proceeding for breakfast.

If a monkey hits random keys on a laptop keyboard for an infinite amount of time, then it will most surely type up all the rules governing the conduct of civil servants or, better still, a blog chronicling the lives and times of civil servants of the 89th Foundation Course batch. Alas! I do not have an infinite amount of time. A second rehearsal 10k run is scheduled in place of tomorrow's PT. A monkey off one's back with this PT substitution.

On FC midway point, movies and on absolute anonymity

Exams may come and exams may go, but I can not shake off the habit of watching movies and reading fiction and eating more than twice the daily calorie requirement during exam time. I watched an anime, 'Perfect Blue' (1997) by Satoshi Kan (who also directed 'Millennium Actress' (2001)) and the ever green big daddy of cool movies, 'Big Lebowski' (1998) (The Dude abides!) by the Coen brothers. 'Perfect Blue' is the source/inspiration movie for 'Black Swan' (2010). In fact, many think (including me, after I have watched the movie today) that 'Black Swan' draws heavily from 'Perfect Blue.' Among the many critiques and analyses available on the net, I found this to be the best that compares and contrasts both the movies.The caffeine driven binge movie watching then dovetailed with listening to the OSTs from both the movies and then reading reviews from various fora.

Do my batchmates realize that the 89th Foundation course is half done already? The 'mid term' exams cleave the course duration in to two neat halves. How do you feel now that the course is half empty (or half full, as you wish). The defining event of the Foundation Course, the Great Himalayan Trek is over. Other high points that the OTs may look forward to are the village visit and the India Day. I am guessing the cultural programmes due every fortnight will have been a matter of routine by the end of the course and not many may be enthused by the cross country run and the athletic meets. So what do the OTs look forward to, now? Many deadlines for submission of essays on various topics and reviews of books etc loom on the horizon, like the snow peaks of the Gangotri group, Chaukambha, Kedarnath groups visible from the campus. We move ever closer to scaling new heights.

There are two places in the campus from where one can get unhindered views of the snow clad Himalayas- the library reception area and the mess hand wash area. The Gandhi Smriti Library reception area has the added benefit of having an almost panoramic photograph of the Himalayas on the horizon, labelled with the peak names pasted on the wall above the window making for easy identification. The bronze plate with the peaks marked on it, on the Kalindi Guest House lawns is of no use. The peaks do not correspond to the direction in which they are present and trees in front of the viewing area spoil the views. Other areas in Mussoorie from which an unhindered view of the peaks can be had is the Lal Tibba. Even the Nandadevi peak is said to be visible from there. A visit to the Lal Tibba on a clear sky day is due. The Chaukambha peak group is the most impressive among all the peaks visible from the campus.

Half way through. I am guessing the academy will be a much duller place once the OTs from services other than the IAS leave after the Foundation Course comes to a close. We will think about it when the time comes. As of now, I am yet to know most of my batch mates and vice-versa. The situation can get a bit comical at times, like how in a class of just 7 OTs (a language class), a lady OT wanted to know if I were in the same class as her. After about 50 days in the academy and after as many as 10-15 language classes, I suppose it was a rather tragi-comic statement on many things. Namely, that mere physical presence does not get registered. That people are likely to mistake me for a wall paper. If it were the first time that this has happened, I would be wallowing in self-pity. Alas! This is the umpteenth time that people wake up one day to find that I have had been their group/team mate/coworker etc for quite some time. My colleagues from my stint at a private MNC would identify this incident with that of the 'kind stranger' moniker. I only hope this sort of presence whitewash does not happen with my wife to be. Imagine the awkwardness and the embarrassment if the future wifey wakes up one day and wonders aloud and in alarm as to what I am doing in her house. 

This level of anonymity has its advantages, too. I am seeing a bright future for myself in the world of espionage where the ability to pass off as a wall paper is a great talent to possess. A fly on the wall type is just the kind that a wannabe spy has to be proficient being.

I sincerely hope that by the end of the Foundation Course there may not be many fellow OTs who mistake me for a wall paper.

On Fete

The Fete (none found a snappy Hindi noun to clothe the event with) was conducted today. In its simplest form, a fete in the academy is a public function in the Happy Valley ground with around 15 stalls for food and 15 for games. The fete was visited by the faculty and their family members, staff and their family members, select school students (think Waverly etc) and of course the OTs. The proceeds from the sale of coupons were earmarked for a noble cause. The OTs man the stalls and with the help (considerable help) of the competent mess staff, they prepare eatables which are sold to the visitors. The visitors are also enticed to play at the game stalls. The groups of students manning the stalls have various coordinators and assorted characters and roles. However, civil servants being civil servants, the fete was preceded by many rounds of meetings and cluelessness (at least on the part of few groups) of OTs as to what it all meant. All is well that ends well, and so we can declare the fete and the efforts that went behind it commendable and an unqualified success.  On offer at the food stalls were biryanis of different regions, vegetarian options galore, beverages and sweet dishes while at the game stalls one had the option to choose from archery, games of fortune, fun activities like 'jail,' where anyone could be recommended for a stint at the corrective facility or a bail amount of sufficient quantity if posted coud get you exempted from confinement. Overall, the visitor headcount was good and I can speak for my groups that our books are in the black after a day long exertion. The games were engaging, one hopes, to the schoool kids as well as the child like OTs. 

What was the objective of the fete? Was it to raise funds? Was it to give a first hand experience of public interaction and service in a controlled environment of a fete, to the civil servants under training? Was it to give a chance for the public at large to interact with the civil servants in an informal manner? It was amusing and illustrative to observe shy school girls from the Happy Valley area approach one's food counter for a helping of a delicious brownie with ice cream and chocolate sauce and when served less chocolate sauce than what they felt was deserved for the price they paid, demand more in unequivocal terms. And on the other hand, one wonders if the profit motive should be the sole motive for civil servants. If a not snot nosed kid comes up to you and hands over a ticket of a small value and insists that he be servedice cream, what should the civil servants do? We just hand over the ice cream with chocolate sauce without a murmur. I appreciate my group mates for displaying compassion and empathy.

The Officer Trainees take up responsibilities from time to time, like in the library and the mess, for example. It is a compulsorily voluntary job and an OT performs these jobs with similar enthusiasm, I guess.

Today was a weird day. Weather had a major role in the weirdness I believe. The sunset was quite beautiful after a rather sodden day. It has gotten a lot colder too. It is as if the cold has descended from the higher hills and settled at 6000 ft altitude.

The trek had unsettled a lot of schedules. We were accustomed to, however reluctantly, to events such as the PT, sleeping in the class only during the class hours, stuffing oneself to the gills with breakfast etc. Now, one is hard pressed to sleep during the class hours. Gasp! One actually looks forward to trodding the Polo Grounds. Gasp! Gone are the days when if the breakfast weighed less than few kilos one felt one was doing an injustice to the mess. Now one only feels lightweight and finds the temerity to skip meals. Things seem to have changed.

The work load has been steadily increasing. There are papers to write, mid term exams to contend with, Fete to participate and cultural programmes to watch, PT to huff and puff from etc and only limited time.

On Sex in the Snow

The Himalayas 'encourage men to search for something as exalted as the summits he can see.' For some, the ultimate exalted summit is love. Love that can not be found in the plains, at training academies etc is sought to be found at high altitude. From my observations I can only say that love is as elusive at 4000 m as it is at sea level. Then there are searchers like me, content with sights of the craggy peaks, forested hill sides, moon lit valleys and a million stars in the sky. I am a plainsman who grew up in the flat lands of the Godavari river delta. The highest point I had climbed in my childhood was a guava tree. Therefore, it is with wide eyed wonder that I view these glimpses of the Himalayas. I can identify with the Lama from 'Kim' by Rudyard Kipling who when he steps in to the mountain region in his quest for the River of the Arrow says of the mountains, "These are the hills of my delight! Shadows blessed above all other shadows! Here are my eyes opened on this world...out of the hills I came- the high hills and the strong winds. Oh just is the Wheel."

The mountains can evoke many passions in men. And women too. A common theme I used to find odd was the constant recourse to mountain backdrops for picturization of 'love' songs (duets, group songs etc) in Bollywood and Tollywood movies. Many melodious songs have been picturized in the mid-Himalayan region and this phenomenon has been explained to my satisfaction in this scholarly article, "Sex in the Snow: The Himalayas as Erotic Topos in Popular Hindi Cinema" by Philip Lutgendorf of University of Iowa. The plains man hero- hill woman heroine romance has been examined and explained in this article, building up on the mythological and cultural depictions of the hills as areas of liberal (liberated?) sexual atmosphere. Since I am constrained with regard to time, allow me to copy paste the synopsis of the article here.

"Fantasies about life beyond the front range of the Great Himalaya have been a trope in lndian literature since at least the period of the Sanskrit epics. The demi-divine beings believed to inhabit the high country were famously sexually active, and even the human "northern Kurus" (as residents of the region have sometimes been called) were rumored to have long, happy lives unburdened by inhibitions, especially in sexual matters: their women were allegedly free to enjoy multiple extra-marital liasons and polyandrous marriages. Such legends appear to persist in popular 20th century narrative through a much-used trope in Bombay cinema: the depiction of the Himalayas as a realm of uninhibited romantic fantasy. Although this trope is often confined to virtually extra-narrative song sequences that whisk the hero and heroine to Himalayan (or lately European or even New Zealand alpine) locales, a number of highly successful films have given it much more extended treatment by romantically pairing a plains-dwelling hero with a Himalayan heroine. This article briefly traces the history of this scenario and then considers the contextual and cultural implications of its use in two notable films: Raj Kapoor's Ram Teri Ganga Maili (1984) and Mani Ratnam's Dil Se (1998)."

Source: Lutgendorf, Philip (2005) "Sex in the Snow: The Himalayas as Erotic Topos in Popular Hindi Cinema," Himalaya, the Journal of the Association for Nepal and Himalayan Studies: Vol. 25: No. 1, Article 7.
Available at: http://digitalcommons.macalester.edu/himalaya/vol25/iss1/7

This article makes for an entertaining read, please do go through it. Apologize for using a classic bait and switch tactic with the use of a titillating title and then sticking a research paper to you. Though one did hear of PDAs in the hills, that is about all I can write here without venturing into tabloid type speculation and outright lies. Let them who search for love find it where they will and those of us unrequited with the mere sight of the exalted peaks may yet summit them someday.

On (in)Human Demands in the Himalayas and Few Photographs

The Gandhi Smriti Library at the academy is a delightful place. There are three fat volumes of Calvin and Hobbes cartoons, an absolute must read (or reread in my case) for the weary and tired souls. Or even Mills & Boon series of titles. The variety of subjects on which books are available continues to amaze me. One can find books on topics as esoteric and seemingly far removed from civil service as gardening to thick tomes on a dozen and more varieties of law.

The mountains bring out the best and the worst in man. A common ailment that most people suffer from when they go to the hills is what Bill Aitken in 'Seven Sacred Rivers' describes as the 'altitude's debilitating desire to demand things by right.' Thus, one finds normal, reasonable people turn irrational and demanding, oblivious to the obvious limitations in the higher altitudes. For example, hot water for bathing at remote huts and barely there dhabas. Or, food of sufficient variety to satiate the palate where the best option for nutrition is grass. Or accommodation of a standard not possible in places where the nearest roadhead is 20 km and/or a day's trek away. Of course, it could be that the 'normal, rational' people may not be normal and rational to begin with. Then, they are the worst thing that could have walked the mountains. Loud, boorish, insensitive to local customs and rude, they are anything but civil in trying circumstances. Perhaps I am harsh in my words. My peevishness can be explained by the fact that the endless antyaksharis and the catcalls and whistles and loud conversations scared away the Himalayan birds and animals that I was eager to see and capture on my camera. I was lucky to have heard, even over the man made din, the songs of many birds and spot a few. The guide, a local birdwatcher trained by the Bombay Natural History Society was knowledgeable and readily shared his knowledge of the fauna and flora. Thus one learned of interesting facts like how Ban Oak when yet a plant sports spiny edged leaves so as to discourage animals from feeding on it and as it grows the leaves change shape at the higher reaches while the leaves on the lower branches retain the spines. Like how the 'kutki' plant whose rather bitter roots are supposed to have a diabetes regulating effect besides being useful in treating digestive problems.

Kukti- Used in Ayurvedic medicine for treating digestive problems. Image source: http://www.kraeuter-und-duftpflanzen.de/media/image/c94946e555298340c63123700077d590.jpg

Or the pleasant fragrant leaves of the 'atrasu' plant which when brewed as a herbal tea is supposed to warm the body. There were a variety of edible 'bers' and 'jamuns' which the guide was kind enough to point out to us. We had our fill of these berries. Lesson being, a good guide can negate the ill effects of even the worst kind of antyaksharis. There is a wealth of knowledge among the locals. Traditional knowledge systems have to be tapped in order that they benefit the wider community. There is a scope for resource extraction without killing the mountains and cheating the locals. The current practice is of exploitative and extortionary resource extraction where valuable medicinal herbs and forest produce is being pilfered by unscrupulous elements, often being smuggled across the porous border between Uttarakhand and Nepal and then further in to the end market, China. The guide recounted examples of how 'dalaals' (brokers or middlemen) come visiting their villages to offer monopolistic prices for few herbs which they then sell to their customers in China at inflated prices. The guide suggested that the government can and needs to step in to curb the smuggling as well as regulate the trade in the herbs.

Below are few photos of the birds and animals and plants I came across during the trek. Help in identifying would be most appreciated.

Pika- Cute guy was munching on leaves near a place where we were filling our water bottles from a stream.

Pika- Posed patiently for few minutes before withdrawing shyly.

Indian Tortoise shell

Queen of Spain

What crested bird is this?

Berries

Again getting confused- is it a blue throated warbler or oriental magpie?

My camera was good

Sun lovers.

Size does not matter, attitude does.

On restarting blogging after a long trek.

Quick now. The longish absence from blogging can be explained. I fell in love. With the Himalayas. Again.

It was cold at the top and lonely despite the crowd. I loved the moon illuminating the hill sides and the tree tops, loved the way Milky Way took my breath away yet again, loved the many flowers and birds and trees and berries that I came across, loved the moss covered dead wood and the wild mushrooms and the grasses, yes I loved all these. But above all, over everything, I loved the Himalayas. Still do. Will do. Higher than the clouds, disdainful, imperious, alluring, sterile, fertile, seductive, aloof, they simply stood while I tussled with complicated group dynamics, wrestled with conflicting emotions about my fellow humans, head bent and breathing heavy, toiling up and down the slopes at the foot of the magnificent Himalayas. While all along they stood solid, shimmering in the mists and sun and moon light, daring me to love them. I tried. I tried my best.

The trek for 6 days concluded without incident for the group. Sadly, the same can not be said about the other groups. There was an unfortunate incident in one of the groups. Details will be shared when more facts come to light.

The route followed was as follows: Mussoorie->Hanumanchatti (bus, overnight stay at Forest Rest House (FRH))-> Darvadar Seema Range Camp (steep up hill climb, tent stay)->Dodital (stay at FRH)->Agoda (FRH)->Maneri(UJVNL Guest House)->Lata to Belak (steep up hill trek, Gujjar huts)->Budha Kedar->Mussoorie (bus).

The objectives of the trek may have been fulfilled in part. Very well. How much group dynamics can a man put up with anyway?!

There was a literary festival on the 2nd and the 3rd of this month. Think intellectual terrorism and fossilization of mind after 10 years in the service and that would sum up most of the content of the 'literary' festival. The only festival it was was of prejudices.

 Sometimes I wonder if I have grown more cynical than is necessary for my age. Like, cut some slack for the ossified civil servants may be? Go in to a love all free fall, a trippy, sugary, white washed world of absolute non-judgment. Enough of head scratching. The grind restarts tomorrow. I shall try and recount the aforementioned events in as much detail as it can be boring.

Feels good to have been missed, by the way. :)

On File Notings and Tea-Time Rights

Did you know that on the file notings the clerks sign on the left hand side of the note while the officers sign on the right hand side? Now you know. A dealing hand is the karta of a file while the invisible hand dictates the fate of the notings and drafts. The invisible hand, be that of Adam Smith's or a typical neta's or even that of Maradona's imagination, is, like the foreign hand, an all powerful hand. The invisible hand pulls strings while the dealing hand stains itself with ink.

These are practical matters, something that many OTs were keen on learning. What do we do with practicality? For, practicality is only a convenience for the moment. What is eminently practical and practicable may be impractical within no time. Learn the philosophy, if you can, is what I say.

In case one wonders what the civil servants are being taught, the topics range from international trade to how to sign off a demi-official letter. Famous writers drop in as guest speakers from time to time and deliver underwhelming lectures. Well, it is up to the OTs to be either overwhelmed or underwhelmed. 

Speaking of whelming, I must need to come up tops in the scrimmage for snacks during tea time. It is of essence to the modern civil servant to be well conversant with the finer techniques of pushing through the crowds with a cup in one hand to home in on to the tea dispenser and the other hand simultaneously grabbing whatever light nibble may have been offered as snack. Assertion of tea time rights would be the term the bright, KTP type OTs would identify.

A literary festival will be held on the academy premises over the next two days. Prominent personalities and litterateurs will be prowling the campus. The unlettered like me may find the going tough. The literary festival is being organized by a private entity.

More about the literary festival and the personalities in the future posts. But the PT! The horrific PT! Knees creak, ankles squeak, muscles ache, eyes burn from sleeplessness but to no avail. Ours is to do PT and die.

Or not. While the niggling pains and residual aches may trouble us for sometime, I suppose at least this level of physical activity is necessary in order that one is prepared for the trek in the upper Himalayas.

On a Splendid Cultural Performance

A guest lecture dealt with the Dalit entrepreneurship as well as with the social and political thought of Dr. B. R. Ambedkar. Can capitalism be a solution to casteism? The speaker thought so.

The 2nd edition of the cultural programme was entertaining through and through. The evening started off with a recitation of a shloka which was not clear. 

A Sufi song, Fuzon's 'Mora Saiyan' and a group song by the students of the NIVH received standing ovation from the audience. Of special note was the group song.

The performances by the NIVH students were followed by a Rajasthani dance by the lady OTs, dazzling in traditional dress and the very picture of poise and grace with pots balanced delicately on their heads. Theirs was a mesmerising performance.

The comperes, meanwhile, had started LBSNAA TV. The 'news' snippets of a certain lady OT who can talk for hours together (and yet find it not enough), a gentleman OT who wanted administrators with 'real experience' to teach at the academy, a gentleman OT whose questions are as lengthy as lectures etc kept the audience regaled with instant connect and recall.

A jugalbandi of old Hindi movie songs was next in order. There was a change of guard in the compere team and 'Mushie' and the lady OT kept the audience engaged for the rest of the session. A rather innovative dance by OTs from AP and Telangana had the audience asking for more. How innovative was it? Well, the gentleman OTs danced, even, to the ditty 'hamara Bajaj'!

A lady OT sang a soulful song. Pardon my ignorance but the song was an unfamiliar one.

To jazz up the evening, a peppy salsa number was next to follow. However, it gave raise to a lot of mirth owing to, how shall one put it, few too many left feet of certain gentleman OTs. Two of them specifically. :) The ladies simply sizzled.

A mimicry show riveted the attention of the audience next. Bollywood stars of yester years as well as the current Khan crop made an appearance. Usual suspect politicians, news anchors and movie stars were portrayed with easy and impressive talent by three gentlemen OTs. Who would have thought that the serious civil servant types can mimic?!

Santana got a place too with two gentleman OTs playing their own variation on Santana's piece. The OTs' talent with guitars was amazing.

A synthesis of Gujarati and Punjabi dance numbers enthused the audience with the catchy beats. The thoroughly entertaining evening was brought to a close with an invite by the 89th FC batch for a dandiya raas tomorrow. Looking forward to it.

Special mention and appreciation to the coordinators, backstage personnel, various clubs and societies which came together to make this cultural event a resounding success. Loved the mellow lights and perfect sound arrangements.

On Blessed Rainy Day and Ephemarality of Thoughts

I have decided not to bore anyone tonight. I am hard pressed to find content fit for the blog without resorting to tabloid tactics or talking about the weather. 

What about the weather? It is getting colder. The night low dipped a few notches almost as if on cue on the 23rd September. What gives? It was the same day as the Blessed Rainy Day, a holiday in Bhutan marking the end of the monsoon, as my friends from the Royal Bhutan Civil Service and Royal Bhutan Forest Service, a jolly bunch, informed me.

What a simple and pleasing name- blessed rainy day!

Rain may have taken leave of Bhutan but not of Mussoorie. It drizzled for sometime, drenching the multi-hued garden dahlias growing wild on the hill sides. The delicate flowers were akin to rain kissed damsels, their flimsy clothes hiding nothing. Only, there was nothing to hide for these flowers. The bees visited, reluctant, hesitant. Cliches abounded, like now.

Post the group formation, a sub-group, namely, couples, formation activity is on. Here, if I delve more into this topic I shall be breaching the 'no gossip' rule I put for myself. However, I shall mention any activity that may be of general public interest without compromising anyone's privacy. We shall cross that bridge when we come across it.

A note on the trek. I noticed that the full moon is on the 8th of October right when we would be in the middle of the long trek in the upper Himalayas. I look forward to 'moonlight on the mountain rivers', mists of love, Milky Way to my heart etc. Though the moon, prima donna that she is, would drown out the light from the stars. I was eagerly looking forward to spotting stars I last saw during my adolescence when I used to sit in the balcony of our place, books in my lap for pretence, gazing at the sky hoping I would catch a glimpse of a shooting star so that I could make a wish to fulfill my boyhood fantasies. No, the fantasies did not come true though events more magical and astonishing than my juvenile mind could fantasize about did come about. Such is life. We wish for something, on a shooting star no less, and something else happens, a cosmic surprise, far outshining and underlining the ephemerality and fickleness of our thoughts. Who am I to complain of my lot?!

On a Peak and Summiteers

There were many kings of the hill, a much quarried limestone hill. A hill that appealed to Sir George Everest enough for him to set up a bungalow and an observatory for him to compile the results of the Great Indian Arc survey. The bungalow is now in utter ruin, visited annually by various batches of OTs, cows, goats and other wild creatures. The kings of the hill all talked but could not decide on who would be the summiteer of the peak of the quarried limestone hill.

Speaking of peaks, the Peak XV, later to be named as Mount Everest, has an interesting story behind its naming. This article from The Himalayan Journal by William Aitken is an engaging read.

An enquiry in to the real name of Mt. Everest

The Tibetan name for the peak, Chomolungma, has a sweet meaning. It means 'Snow Blue High Queen.'

The trek to the Sir George Everest estate, a gentle walk on the road, was done with the group configuration for the first time. The group members and their leaders were kind enough to check on my welfare and position from time to time. No child left behind was implemented in letter and spirit.

There were Tibetan Buddhist prayer flags, clouds and needy photographers around. The result is few photos for your viewing pleasure.

The Lone Trekker

A cross current of prayers

Eternal prayers

On a Social Experiment and on Imposition

'Data will confess to anything if you flog it hard enough.'

Over four years of working with data has one develop a healthy suspicion of data. Not all data is suspect, of course. But then not all data is data. A lot of it is fiction. Most of the rest is noise. The current hot phrase 'big data' may yet be the next big thing in the world of technology. How do you use big data in administration?

While we are on the topic of data, let me share the results of the social experiment performed over the past few days. The experiment in itself was simple-the experimenters (two males, socially unremarkable) claim a specific spot of 'in-demand' real estate in the mess during the meal hours and observe the reactions of the OTs to this deliberate attempt at encroachment. The result of this experiment was consistent- almost all OTs desirous of occupying the prime real estate assiduously avoided the chairs next to the experimenters. Few had expressions of irritation writ large on their faces at the inconvenience, few others could mask their emotions well. Few OTs who initially were inclined to sit next to the experimenters would change their seat at the last minute on finding OTs from their 'group' elsewhere. After close to a month at the academy, it is the transitional phase when the OTs would move from the awkward group formation in to their comfort zones. The experimenters desired to gauge the effect of external stimuli in assessing the cohesiveness of groups. The number of chairs left vacant next to the experimenters, even during the peak mess hours, was indicative of the OTs' affinity towards their homogeneous groups and their aversion towards unfamiliar, heterogeneous groups. The ideal group size, we deduced, was 7. Anyone above that number becomes unwieldy in terms of communication. Therefore, 7 is the core group membership. There are associative memberships as well. The peripheral members move fluidly between different groups. These try hard to belong somewhere, anywhere. Unless one has strong social bonds, the ideal nuclear size is 2. Group accretion does not start easily below this size if the individuals at the centre do not have compelling social aura around them. Service, geography, gender, regionality, ranks are the usual suspects in promoting homogeneous groups. The only notable exception was when one lady OT broke the valence barrier and took the trouble to make small talk with the experimenters, occupying the chair next to them. We need more time to understand this aberration.

That then was our experiment. It was pseudo sociological, yes, but it was fun. Apologies for my engineering friends for using non-technical sounding jargon. Apologies too to the serious sociologist types for trivializing your field with these engineering incursions.

Irrespective of the experiment, I had had a chance to listen in to a rather entertaining and insightful monologue of a fellow OT at the dining table tonight. I shall present the monologue in a suitable format at a later date.

Before signing off, I would like to ask what we are imposing and what we are superimposing. Can we 'impose' secularism? Can we 'impose' religious intolerance? Can we 'impose' peace, love and brotherhood among people? What do we impose and what do we displace?

I remember imposition as a punishment at school when one had to write out apologies on the blackboard. 

The trek routes have been finalized, the group leaders, assistants, navigators, communicators, treasurers and bookkeepers have all been appointed and prepped. We look forward to 8 odd days in the Himalayas. But before that we have to survive the PT, intensified many fold with the ostensible purpose of toughening us for the Great Himalayan Trek. Yours truly will be on a route to Dodital. Details at a later time. For the present, one has to match Sir George Everest and trek to his bungalow tomorrow.

On Shramdaan and Cleanliness

Plastics are nonbiodegradable. Our brains are biodegradable. What is more valuable?

The 89th FC batch expended some energy in cleaning the academy campus and the adjoining areas. Funnily enough one finds this exercise more tiring than the regular PT. The exercise was that of Shramdaan. The OTs were given a broom or a large bag and asked to clean up the academy area, concentrating on ridding the campus of plastic wastes. We did our best. It was heartening to see the OTs sweep the dead leaves and dried dung off the ground and a host of others try to hunt down bits and pieces of plastic and gather them. Gather them we did, till there were a good number of garbage bags filled with plastic waste. One was amazed to note the amount of plastic waste found in just a patch of ground 100 ft by 10 ft. The marketer in me noted the fact that the chewing gum and chips of snack food category are doing a good job in terms of distribution. However, I was incensed at the consumers who threw away the wrappers by the road sides and in to the campus in a callous manner. The marketers need to rethink packaging and they need to do it at war footing. If a small stretch of land with sparse population can produce so much waste, I shudder to think of the magnitude of waste (particularly nonbiodegradable waste) being generated by the megapolises and metropolises of this country. 

Shramdaan showcased the dignity of labour in the civil servants. It was a heartening sight to see the faculty and the OTs out on the roads and clearing the area of plastic waste in earnest. The devotion with which all of us participated in the activity must need to be shown in daily life. Only through our devotion to cleanliness and in a larger sense our ownership of our environment can we be godly.

There are efforts afoot to cleanse the country, initiated by the present dispensation. The cleaning has to be material as well as spiritual and therefore the cleaning of Ganga makes sense at two levels. Hopefully we will be morally clean too, soon.

On Questions of Capability and a beautiful movie

The film society is my most favourite society as of now. Hopefully the journal society will meet my expectations. [Full disclosure: I have vested interest in the latter society].

The film society screened 'Life is Beautiful' (1997). Since I am writing this not five minutes after watching the movie, there is a strong after glow of that beautiful movie. Two visuals that stay with me, without giving anything away, are the sight of the train engine, a steam engine, entering the concentration camp and that of the protagonist goose-step marching near the end of the movie. While the first half of the movie is an absolute joy to watch, the second half gives one goosebumps. This time I managed to leave the auditorium with only moist eyes and it is a vast improvement over the past. Yes, men's lachrymal glands get activated too when one watches such movies. 

In fact, this movie, 'Life is Beautiful' (1997) and 'Grave of the Fireflies'(1988) are the two movies that turned me against any movie that depicts even an iota of sadness. The thought goes, that the life is anyway filled with sorrow and tears and to watch the same in the make believe world of movies seems superfluous. The terrible thing is that the two aforementioned movies are incredibly beautiful movies. And I can not bear to watch them. And I end up watching them. Sad, sad, sad.

After watching the movie it seems petty to even complain of the many insignificant slights and irritations of the day. After all, life is beautiful.

The social, experiential experiment is on and our hypothesis has been validated. We shall share the silly experiment and the silly results at a later time.

The beauty of the 89th FC batch is that one gets to, no, runs into, interesting people all the time. There are siblings of friends and batch mates from under graduation and graduation times, OTs whose relatives hail from the same small, obscure village as one's ancestors do and so on. In fact, given my diverse geographical base over the past 15 years and the education and work experience in various nodal institutes and organizations, I may yet have the most number of common acquaintances and friends and connections with most of the OTs. This thought gives me a feeling of centrality, a puffed up feeling of self-importance and feel goodness that takes an unceremonious beating once in a while.

Like it did today. There I was, standing alone and preening myself over being quite the network man in an era of networking etc when out of the blue (unhonee, in Hindi :)) a beautiful lady OT who I did not know existed in this batch, comes straight at me and pops this question: "Are you capable?" Chump that I am, I was stumped for an answer as nobody ever questioned my capability in so direct a fashion nor did an occasion arise for anyone, especially ladies, to question my capability, be it in any field. I mean any field. While I was thinking of appropriate replies, inoffensive, officer-like, blah blah blah, the moment passed and the concerned OT clarified that she meant if I were capable of managing things. I felt equal parts offended and relieved. Relieved that the capability in question was related (only) to some managerial activity and nothing else. Offended that a face in the crowd who did not even have the courtesy to enquire of my name or somehow acquaint with myself would call in to question my capabilities. Over the rest of the day, the question rankled me till I got lost in the silver screen.

Now that I have had time to calm down and the irritation has subsided, I wonder if I am developing a thin skin, if I am over sensitive to perceived slights, to imagine slights to begin with. Or if it were a simple case of miscommunication- a case of an OT who did not care to choose one's words carefully. As I had mentioned elsewhere in this blog, I am no one to judge anyone. So, I will rest this matter here.

There was a debate organized today with a topic on democracy. There was this strange scene of demagoguery and even more bizarre was the response to it from the audience. The topic was democracy and its relevance to India, the mode of communication was debate. Therefore, one wonders why dramatics and demagoguery got mixed up in this. To each his own then. The debate saw few brilliant insights being made regarding the topic and few excelled in the rhetoric, the essence of a debate. Kudos then to the deserving candidates, both to those who won and those who did not but whose performance was no less.

On Commensality and Democracy

Commensality is an integral part of a social experience. A fellow officer trainee with super keen observation powers has noted a peculiar thing about the officers' behaviour in the Officers' Mess. Deductions from these observations shall be shared after few repeats of the social, experiential experimentation. Well designed experiments must need satisfy the repeatability condition. And we have a control too.

Commensality has an original reference to the caste system along with endogamy. We will touch these topics at a later date. The current experiment has a different purpose.

There are many ways of life. Democracy is one among them, according to some. Religion is, for most others. Food is religion is way of life for certain others. Are they beliefs? Are people convinced about their views? What would it take to change the views? I believe there is a surprising amount of discomfort with the ambiguous. We yearn for certainty. However, what is wrong with randomness? Anyway, I think democracy is a daydream of philosopher kings and capitalist czars. Pessimistic? No, I think I am being realistic.

That is it for today. The posts are contracting by the day and with good reason. I am sleep deprived and it is showing. Mere skimming of topics is poor writing, but between no writing and poor writing, I suppose I should choose poor writing.

In general

The batch got a wake up call, so to speak. Probably it was deserved.

People are busy researching on places from the upper Himalayas as a part of the trek path to choose from among many options. It is always a hard choice when one relies on Wikipedia, Google and Indiamike to decide on which path to trek. Why not leave the choice to the fates and be merry? Anal retentive civil servants believe they have things under their hand, in their control. How long would it take to disabuse them of this notion?

All in good time maybe.

On a purported blog holiday and on editorial introspection.

Today is a blog holiday. I thought I should rest a bit, sleep early instead of burning the candle from both ends. One is never not busy at the academy. There will be meetings of societies, socializing occasions like dinners, events showcasing one's talents etc to keep one busy the whole day and most of the night. Then there is the PT (sigh) and classes (snore), couple of hours spent eating sprouts and half a day spent dressing in smart casuals. Not that I am insinuating that I am doing any or all of these activities. I am merely suggesting that such are the busy lives of most of the OTs.

I had been musing on what I am going to write in the coming days. There will be events and incidents enough to write about but would that satisfy my pretence of desire to be a 'writer' one day? A prize winning writer no less!

Literary aspirations aside, I have had an occasion to rethink about the content and the philosophy of this blog. The trigger was an anecdote by a fellow OT on how she used to avoid taking pictures of people but has since amended her opinion as she felt photographs without people in them are prone to losing their context. I have a habit of avoiding photographs of people (and that includes me!) as much as I can. I prefer taking photographs of everything else under the sun. However, the lady OT's statement has a deeper meaning (whether intended or not I do not know) which I realized upon meditating on the statement for some time. And the deeper meaning, in my understanding, is whether art should exist for the sake of art alone or have a utilitarian value, a functional existence. Over innumerable weekends spent at National Gallery of Modern Arts (Mumbai) and Jehangir Art Gallery (Mumbai) watching people interact with art, I believe art can and must exist for its own sake alone. Art, like poetry, is the natural instinct of our being. [paraphrased Bill Aitken's line from 'Seven Sacred Rivers.'] People understand art instinctually. They react to it, irrespective of their prior experience with art, in a primal manner. Photography is a form of art and is also like a time capsule. You put in old love letters, photographs of one's beloved, assorted knickknack dear to one at that particular time, shut the lid of the time capsule and open it at a later date. A photograph is similar in its function. Therefore, if I do not include markers, faces and bodies, in the photographs, would the photographs be relevant at a later date?

Similar to photographs, would these blog posts be relevant at a later date without names and specifics? I try not to name anyone in this blog out of various well founded reasons. However, one is bound to reel closer to the boundaries of specifics when one tries to write about an intensive course for a batch in the higher 200s in number. In that case, what is the appropriate action? Desist from posting or go ahead with it and trample on few toes in the process? I am all for a generic blog, let us see how it goes from here.

So much for a blog holiday. However, I thought I might take some time for editorial introspection.

On a trek to Lal Tibba and blue berry cheese cake.

Here is the trek description in a more readable form.

• Trek from the academy to Lal Tibba.
• Started at 7.30 am.
• Downhill walk till Bhilaru pump house.
• Salt sprinkling ceremony to ward off leeches and to maintain pH levels, slaughtered few mountain goats to propitiate trekking gods (ok, this part is made up, the sacrifice part).
• Some more downhill walk on algae covered paths (slippery as hell).
• Bicchu buti kisses in between (painful, painful, irritating initially, but one forgets after a while as the aches in legs from climbing overtakes the bicchu buti sting). Nobody quite grasped the nettle!

  

  Beware of bicchu buti.

  
  

• 

  Some mushrooms enroute.

• Dead wood blocks the narrow path; OTs slide on their bottoms in order not to roll down 80 ft before the fall is broken by trees. Fat bottomed OTs you make the rugged world go round!
• Crossed leech infested area near a pool of stagnant water and a ribbon of a stream that has the deceptive roar of a raging torrent, somehow. Yours truly mistook the leeches for earthworms, steps in to the pool, soggy shoes and socks torment for the rest of the trek.
• Climb begins in earnest. Narrow, gravelly path. Precipitous drop one one side and stinging nettles on the other.
• Crawl on all fours at a place. Palms still sweat when one thinks of that part. Happy because of the paunch which lowered the centre of gravity.
• Climb past hamlets, barking dogs, flatulent cows.
• Climb past fruit bearing trees (apple, apricot), 'mansoor' shrubs
• Climb ends at Lal Tibba view point. Two sleepy, generic cafes. A binoculars on a roof top. Cloudy so could not see any of the upper Himalayas. Do ends justify the means? Not for Lal Tibba trek I say!
• Pleasant walk downhill and some more climb up to ITM lawns for lunch.

• 

  A bee going about its business.

• Kellogg Memorial and St.Pauls churches, old and redolent of 19th century Raj era.
• Char dukaan disappointed few motor vehicle borne pretty young things. Heard the pancakes are worth making the trek to Landour. Should check out the said pancakes.

  

  Signboards at a cafe.

• Kulri bazaar home to quaint shops. Antiques store was a shortcut to an indeterminate past, in to lives of others, memorabilia mundane and mysterious. Reminded me of the saying that love is greater than truth. And commerce in nostalgia did not seem an example of exploitative capitalism.
• Serendipitous discovery of Clock Tower Cafe by friends. Blueberry cheesecake was out of this world. The ambience made it especially noteworthy.

  

  The interiors of Clock Tower Cafe.

  
  

  

  The coffee was good.

So that in nutshell is an account of the trek. Was it tough? You bet it was. Was it memorable? Every bit yes, especially the scary bits. Was it worth all the sweat, salt, fat etc? I suppose so.

A larger collection of photographs of the trek can be found here.

Below is the trek account in its original form.

Lal Tibba earned an enemy in me today. The trek was 18 km long. The unsuspecting batch started a slow walk downhill till we reached a point where we sprinkled liberal amounts of salt on our shoes (a pointless exercise, for dry salt does not stick to dry shoe surfaces), socks and inside the shoes. This pickling of ourselves in salt was to deter potential dependents in the form of leeches. Once sufficiently salted, the batch made its way through a narrow path surrounded by an abundance of bicchu buti. A handwritten caution note pinned to a tree does not prepare one to the full scale horror of bicchu buti rubbing against one's shins and arms, even through a layer of cloth. The resultant sting was bitter, intense for the initial 2-3 minutes and the itch fades away in to the background remaining a persistent irritant for a time. There was a spot in the descent where a fallen tree caused few anxious moments as the OTs had to go around the gnarled roots on a narrow path and descend some 12 ft in an almost vertical drop, land on another narrow strip of loose dirt path of 1 ft width failing which the OT would take a tumble down an abrupt drop of around 80 ft. It was the first instance when one feels a bit of trepidation. One also imagines Final Destination 1 to 5. Then there was another point in the climb where the loose gravel and a slope of close to 60 degrees meant one had to cling to tufts of grass or shrubs and climb on all fours. It was not a dignified sight for the civil servants to crawl on the sides of the hills, but between the indignity of crawling and the reasonable certainty of a headlong plunge to the very bottom of the valley some 1500 ft below, rational human beings choose crawling.

There was this funny thing of feeling giddy the moment one raises their head to admire the vista of trees of the deepest tree-green covering folds of earth, like vertical love handles, the tremendous middle Himalayan Mussoorie range. So, to avoid falling off the mountain side, one tends to keep his head down, eyes peeled to the path, belabored breath like a sputtering engine. Keep one's head down and climb and climb and climb. Through rocky paths strewn with slate slabs, dried cow dung, an accompanying dog and a racket of dog barks. Climb till you wonder if you are ascending to heaven. Climb some more till your calf muscles turn in to mountain goat muscle. Stringy and tough.

After all the climbing one reaches Lal Tibba. The point we landed up at after the rather difficult trek was a small piece of tarred road and couple of cafes. Since it was overcast there was no chance of seeing the snow-clad Himalayas and the prominent peaks. The culmination of the trek was underwhelming to say the least. Post lunch one was free to move to the academy as per one's preference and I opted to walk down to Landour, along with few friends. Landour was pretty as a post card. Of special mention was the Clock Tower Cafe, a delightful cafe with superb views and a blue berry cheese cake to die for.