Being Strawless

"So how did people drink coconut water when there were no straws?", quizzed the curious-as-usual N while sipping coconut water. 

"Nice. This question has struck me several times as well.", I jumped in. "I think people would have drunk directly from the coconut - but it looks difficult! Or they might have emptied this into a glass or something! That time, they must have had it only at home and not on roadsides." I eagerly emptied my wisdom.

We nevertheless decided to check the facts with the rustic man who was selling coconut water.

"Aise hi pite the" [people used to drink it directly from the coconut] he replied with a shy smile.

Given we were in a small coastal village in Maharashtra - we had little inhibition in trying out the straw less way; the next second both of us were enjoying our respective coconut water sans our straws.

To our amazement - not even a single drop spilled. And believe me - the water tasted even better. I think it was because we could not only smell the fresh coconut but also taste some bit of it while drinking the water. It was an amazing experience.

For the rest of the trip, whenever we drank coconut water we proudly told the vendor "Straw nahi cahiye" [No straw needed] and smiled widely as a little surprised spread over his face.

I am drinking coconut water the straw less from now on. Are you willing to give it a try?

Which road do I travel on?

Led Zepp goes like

"Yes, there are 2 paths you can go by, but in the long run

There's still time to change the road you're on"

While dear Mr. Frost prods on

"TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,   
And sorry I could not travel both...

...Oh, I kept the first for another day!    s
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,   
I doubted if I should ever come back."

Reads both, sighs and says the traveler in me:

"I stood on a path

forking in several paths

Looked all equally green

holding promises of unfulfilled dreams

But none showed themselves for too long

And mysterious were their songs

I stood long, looked far and deep

and then I took the leap

I took the path

caring not for where its destination lay

for paths will cross and fork again

but for what felt more enjoyable to travel that day

and that's all the traveler in me cares for"

p.s. Led zep in his Stairway to Heaven; Robert Frost in his The Road not Taken

p.p.s The traveler in me doesn't get its hands on the steering all the time

p.p.p.s If your mind forces you to read the entire post with Jimmy Page guitar in the background, and makes you sing the poems as if they are a part of the song - you're not the only one!

--  Edit --

Someone pointed out to me that Rebecca Black is also suffering from the same dilemma. 

"Kickin’ in the front seat

Sittin’ in the back seat

Gotta make my mind up

Which seat can I take?"

I can see Robert Frost banging his head against the lovely, dark and deep woods. RIP

There and back again!

"If anything had to be done, it would have to be done by Mr. Baggins, alone and unaided"
- J.R.R. Tolkien, Hobbit

After you have racked up a decent collection of 20 odd books in your small shelf or library, whatever you might want to call it: it feels great to pick up a random book, at a random moment, say just before sleeping, flip pages, read some of the lines you had underlined when reading it for the first time, land at a perfect quote which mirrors your momentary thoughts or makes you remember something you were thinking about, brings a smile or the associated emotion on your face; after which you snuggle in the bed and sleep a night of peace...

"One day nosing and wandering about, Bilbo discovered a very interesting thing..."

And okay, the last one for the day

"No dragon can resist the fascination of riddling talk and of wasting time trying to understand it" :D

An Earthquake in Delhi...

One of the first live blogs - and I am sweating profusely as I write this since the temperature in Delhi has shot over 30 degree C and I decided to climb 14 floors to get back to office. I was wondering as I climbed up: Had the earthquake been higher on the Richter scale...

To be fair, the emergency exit in our office is named as 'fire exit' and not 'earthquake exit' and hence its inability to ensure quick and safe exit of around 3000 people who work in the building in case of earthquake is not guaranteed. It took me 12 mins to get down from 14th floor. Needless to think about the hopeless situation in case of a stampede.

As I reached the ground, score of people turned out from lifts. With such 'fire exits', lifts are not necessarily unsafe, I reflected.

However, all this all began hilariously. Speaking on phone, I kept my hand on a long table in the cafeteria. The table was shaking like anything. Irritated a little, I looked over as to who was the trouble maker. There was none. This happened for a few times, and then suddenly the realization dawned upon me. I hurriedly said, "It feels like there's an earthquake here. I will call you later", heading towards the exit.

p.s Richter scale of around 5.2, I am told! And thankfully, all buildings held on.

The Novel Theory

The principal of The Novel Theory: A simple theory, which simply states, in the exact words: "I would rather spend an hour reading a novel than speaking to some girl on the phone."

Getting over the Famous Fives!

I was recently listening to one of the TED talks titled "Danger of a single story" in which Chimanmanda starts with the fact that she grew up reading American novels and thus when she began writing, her stories set in Africa too had white girl with blue eyes as protagonist which clearly were not truly African stories!

The moment I listened to this - all the books I have read immediately flashed across my mind. Keeping aside the non-fiction books, the only works of fiction by an Indian author or about India I remember reading are The Guide by RK Narayan, Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts, The sea of Poppies by Amitav Ghosh, Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lehri and Glorious Gharwal by Ganesh Saili. Life of Pi by Yann Martel can too be loosely classified in this category given that a bit of it is based in India. Moreover, I am astonished with the fact that I can't recall much from either the Sea of Poppies or the Interpreter of Maladies.