Santorini 3

Santorini 2

 

Santorini 2

The slopes of Fira were so close by the Villa Manos that whenever we got chance we walked down; sorry it was uphill, to Fira. Those ‘Tinopal’ white houses with their Blue roofs, and Blue doors, Churches with Blue domes, serpentine cobbled lanes, and cozy little hotels serving authentic Greek cuisine were so endearing that there must be hardly any soul that would not fall in love with Santorini and I am not ashamed to declare myself ‘Die Hard’ romantic.

You can climb the entire cliff down to the harbor by tortuous road. We had to give up the try as entire passage was filled with Mule shit, and due to its offensive stench could not take even few steps without pinching the nose. You can hire the Mule ride but even by European standards it was too expensive. Mule owner was asking for Four Euros to go down and same amount to come back. Cable car was half as expensive but it was closed on the day, unfortunately. Efforts to bargain went futile because Mule owner had training by Tongawalas from Pune. Like a member of union he refused to budge even by a centime. He was trying to encash the closure of the cable car to his benefit. In the end all the pliers are same all over the world, so dropped the idea and decided to execute plan B.

Santorini is famous for her beaches. Kamari beach is very near to Fira. Entire east coast of Santorini is nothing but beaches. Kamari is practically at the center of the island and is known as ‘Black’ beach. They are named according to the color of sand, so there are White and Red beaches too. We have Bay of Bengal but we don’t take it as a part of Indian Ocean, similarly though Mediterranean Sea surrounds all the islands of Greece, locals have their own names for their part of sea. So in Santorini it is known as South Aegean Sea.

Kamari beach does not bring down the reputation of Santorini for her beauty but the sand is coarse and is totally black like that at Alibag or Boradi. So that sense of cleanliness just evades you. But as anywhere else waters are crystal clear, Cobalt blue in color and devoid of any floating debris. Tried to have few dips but it was so cold that ‘Oldie’ in me nagged me, not to venture. Of course I did not listen to that ‘Inner’ voice in entirety and did have few dips in the skimpiest swimming briefs. Shubha did not try even and chose to be perched on the strands. Entire beach was devoid of any soul apart from us two; we felt as if we owned the beach like King of Greece. This type of Godly solitude you just cannot even think to have in India.

There are few relics nearby. Also a small church on the hillock nearby. Leisurely we walked up the church but nothing spectacular about the church but the sea? Was more than amazing!

The houses on the slopes of Fira shine in the evening, so again like a teenager fallen 

in love for the first time we took our feet to Johnny Walker point.

It’s the point from where the beauty of Fira in her dusky setting can be enjoyed with full heart. Emblem of Johnny Walker whiskey in solid metal is erected here so we named it as ‘Johnny Walker’ point. May not be its true name. While devouring slowly descending dusk on Santorini with open heart I heard someone saying from behind,

‘Isn’t it beautiful?’

What answer could be for such question other than,

‘Of course!’

A sophisticated lady leaning on the wrong side of sixties but refusing to call it quits by adopting every means to stay young was trying to capture the golden hue of setting Sun reflected by the ultra marine waters of the lagoon.

‘So right!’ Another voice but younger seconded her. She was youngish lass late in her twenties. Both turned out to be nurses by profession so the wavelengths matched immediately. Elder one was from Canada. Younger one was Romanian but was working in Australia. All of us spoke chaste English that was legible so the chatter became unending. It was a rare happening in days together so we talked incessantly.

Lisa had conquered Cancer almost a year ago so she had given ultimatum to both of her daughters that,

‘Now onward you and families, manage on your own, not to bother me with any of your problems. Hence forth I am going to live for myself.’

And thus she was away from the home for more than two months. May be she was trying to run away from herself, because at one of weaker  junctures she could not hide her longings to meet her grandchildren! Australian Martha though hailed from Romania but as she was brought up in UK, could manage absolutely pristine English! She too might be trying to run away from the reality because I sensed few hints in her utterances too!  

Humans and their emotions are same all over the globe; we tag them according to what suits us!

Such a pleasant discussion amongst four of us was disturbed by an American, probably he knew Lisa. When we introduced ourselves as Indians, he reflexisively said,

‘Oh India and Pakistan!’

I lost my cool. Why India is always paired with Pakistan? Anybody and everybody who is born after the independence has nothing to do with Pakistan. As far as my memory goes that nation had been only nuisance and had troubled India always. So I never understand the propriety of this pairing. Our own politicians from north too do not lag behind. For next 30 minutes I lectured him with full gusto, at times raising the voice on,

 ‘How We Indians are different than and superior to Pakistan?!’

Also made my displeasure obvious for labeling everybody from the subcontinent as ‘Pakies’! And did not stop at that. In the flow of discourse showed him,

‘How even the President of US of A has double standards.’

He heard me without uttering a word, very politely, poor soul what else he could have done! My explosion was neither going to affect Rhino skinned Politicians in New Delhi nor it was going to bring down the White-house. It just boiled down to,

‘How a common Indian vents out the ire towards duplicity of America to another common American!’  Why, I don’t know but I felt at peace with myself thereafter!

‘Forget it. Let’s enjoy the Sunset collectively’ Martha suggested in somber tone.

What better suggestion would have been than this!

The royal Opera presented its second performance for us and we left for Villa Manos with heavy hearts!

Santorini

 

We must have crossed path of Black cat before seeking visas for Greece. Nothing went smooth. To start with Greece does not have any visa office/consulate in Mumbai; the work is assigned to Consulate of France. It being ‘Consulate of France’ the rush was phenomenal. So they don’t entertain without having proper appointment. It was Diwali time and it was going to be open only for one day between the holidays and I had already booked flight for Doha the same evening. Lady luck oversaw the black cat and we could seek the appointment on that sandwiched day and within an hour we were out with stamped visas. But the immigration officer at Kahira [Cairo] airport had kept Visa section as option for his departmental exam, so was arguing,

‘Your Visa is for France and the date seems to be incorrect!’

My experience about the English of these officers is absolutely bad! World over even these officers who are supposed to be conversant with now globally accepted language for communication, English, lack the grasp of the language very very badly! Our Egypt tour assistant, our man Friday in Egypt, Mehmood [who else in Islamic country] really came handy, and he explained, what I don’t know, to that imbecile officer something in Arabic and lo,

‘Thuck Thakak Thuck’

Our passports were stamped immediately. And we boarded the flight to Athens! English has corrupted our pronunciations no end. Athens by the locals is pronounced with first Alphabet between ‘A’ and ‘E’. We opted for the golden mean and accepted it as ‘AE’ whatever that can be pronounced as!

Athens airport, is it airport? There are indiscreet stations on main lines those are not remembered even on deliberation, it fitted the description. Everything was Dombiwali slow. Slow and lethargic. Members of EU, European Union were flashing their I cards and moved out on the fast tract. Rest of us? We plodded for more than 90 minutes. And I experienced that I had never seen in any western country before. Line Cutting! Absolute crashing! And it was big realization that, we Indians should not feel small, as it is common in India, when the demand is more than supply, ‘Humans’ all over the world, have the same pattern of behavior! Animals at the core! US talks of discipline and human rights, No, their approach is always ‘Holier than Thou’ but when Katrina struck New Orleans rampage, rioting, looting of shops even for simple toilet paper was rampant and phenomenal in the history of the Most Democratic country in the world! Japanese are made of different clay. It’s an art how to keep your place in the queue when senoritas in ultra fashionable branded clothes, with heavily painted faces, may be with Vogue listed cosmetics, wearing luxurious up market perfume try to break the line with most sweet smile plastered on their faces. They would have shamed Rekha in their facial endeavor. Being Indian We were expert in jeopardizing their plans, we did the same with most blank faces and managed to keep our number in the queue!

Ultimately when we cleared with the immigration formalities, may be after 90 o 100 minutes, conveyor belt of our flight had stopped and our luggage had done ….vamoose! Tension was way above the accepted level and we practically were running helter-skelter! To top the problem English! We are under impression that everybody in Europe knows English, high hopes! The way we say here after breaking our heads and the other party does not get a bit of it, ‘Was I talking in Tamil so far you moron?’

Here English speaker says, ‘Was I speaking in Greek/Latin you dumb-ass?’

But the problem here was they do speak Greek! Any say!

And the officer on the counter counterquestions,

‘Where were you till now?’

‘That snail in the garb of immigration officer was practicing for 100 mts sprint for Olympics so…! Try to get our luggage first, you imbecile!’ Of course everything unsaid overtly.

 After running about for an hour or so we could lay our hands on our luggage that was thrown in some obscure corner. Next running race was for flight check in. Fortunately for Santorini there were many counters so the task, by that time everything looked like task, got finished within ten minutes and we heaved a sigh of relief after throwing ourselves in un-cushioned chairs.

Greece is not famous only for her fables but for her islands too. Here too Greece is only for English users, Greeks call their motherland as Hellas. Like Japan is not actually Japan but Nippon for blue blooded Japanese! British really have messed up with  everything, from names to cultures to way of thinking!

Along with the mainland, Greece comprises of thousands of islands, very small to very big, all over the northern Mediterranean Sea. They are so many that they have divided them into different groups. Cyclades among-st them carries significance for Greeks because the island of Delos that’s at the center of the group is taken to be birthplace of God Apollo. It was tough choice to select the island. After lot of homework and inputs from our tour guide Carol, it got narrowed down to Mykonos or Santorini. In the end it boiled down to Santorini for its scenery and thanks to Bollywood that has made it ‘Picture Perfect’!

One can visit Santorini by taking a ferry from Athens and on the way can detour to different islands as ‘Island Hopping.’ We had limited time on hands, ferry takes 10-12 hours to reach Santorini and the frequency of ferry was unsuitable, so we opted for one hour flight by Aegean Airlines.

In US of A there are flights known as ‘Peanut Flights’ because they serve only a minuscule pouch of roasted peanuts. Aegean was still miser. Indian Airlines used to give single ‘Rawalgaon Toffee’ in olden days,[ If you requested for another, you were told, Stalk over!]. Here it was still worse. So what if the fare is less? The plane landed on ‘Santorini Inter National Air Port’ [!] even while the last bite was still lingering in the mouth! The airport [was it airport?], was so spartan that it was like airstrip at Baramati or Karad pretending to be big runway and challenging the flights from the Big apple, New York, no less!

This time our luggage did not play hide and seek, for a change!  We procured it in a short time. We had booking at Villa Manos a newly opened family resort run by Poppy Philitsis. Her husband was waiting for us to be collected. It was late autumn, fall was almost over but the cold was, though not to that level to send the shivers down your spine but for us Mumbaikars it was, COLD! Though it was just 6 in the evening it was quite dark.

Even in that darkness the hotel shone, it was that brand new! Very near from the town center of ‘Fira’. Poppy turned out to be quite talkative hostess not like her husband who was man of few words like all husbands, or become post wedding! After exchanging few pleasantries, brimming from corner to corner of her mouth, she served us goblets of wine, white one, so full, practically filling up to the brims much like her personality, ,

“I have made it personally right from picking up the grapes from our own kitchen garden. Practically Everything I did! From washing the grapes to thrashing them to fermenting the extract and then sieving the wine’ everything I did!”  Her enthusiasm about her recipe was nothing less than that of any Kaku or Tai-Mai from central Dadar or a Mami from Mugbhat Lane Girgaon who would offer a plate of Sago or Black bean fries adding with utmost pride that ‘Everything is homemade. I made it, right from pounding, fermenting to grinding to cooking everything I did. Even the drying on the roof of house!’

The attitude and the boast were very unpretentious. Though the references are totally different in both the cases but the context was the same, that of pride and attitude and it was delivered too in the same manner! Say about the cultural difference….but it’s world apart!

One of my sisters had started ‘Wine Making’ classes way ahead of her times, so the society ladies who used to pass by her home, used to twist their noses askew pretending to have nausea due to eminent aroma. She practically was labeled as an ‘Aunty’ who makes ‘Hooch’ for the ‘Gulley Boys’. Now the same society ladies do not lag behind in the queue at the bar. And No camouflaging of Rum with Cola now! The time changes if it doesn’t, would it be called time?

Our room was one BHK suite. Absolutely extravagant by Indian standards. Asked for the room service. After a sumptuous dinner we hit the bag. We were so tired that got up late in the morning.

The pronunciation chaos was getting on our nerves. Santorini is also known as Thera or Thira. Greeks pronounce Santorini as Sandhorini.  Thera according to English spelling can also be pronounced like, Th in This, or Th in That or Th in Thug! Our south Indian bros can get away with Tira because they don’t know where to use ‘H’ and where not to!

Thera is main island of South Aegean sea. There is another one just next to it, known as Therasia. There are two more but uninhabited. The geography of the islands is very peculiar as they are formed because of volcanic eruptions.

We set out to visit those famous white houses with Aquamarine roofs on the slopes of Thera but we were totally flummoxed. Villa Manos faces sea but there was no glimpse of those houses. The map was directing in totally opposite direction, locals too did the same. But there was no trace of sea on that side, houses and more houses! Ultimately one has to follow what locals tell. After criss-crossing through small gullies and still smaller lanes we reached the top of a hillock. And it was a big, big surprise. The other side of island of Thera steeply juts down in a lagoon of Mediterranean blue waters that’s 12 km long and 7 km wide. And all those houses are built on the slopes of the cliff.

It meant, from Eastern cliff, island of Santorini slopes down towards west to meet sea again on other side after crossing the plateau. Santorini resembles open mouth of a dragon that’s like letter ‘C’ in reverse. There are many habitats on the island, the most central is known as town of ‘Fira’ while the northern most is ‘Oia’ and southern tip is ‘Akrotiri’.

It’s convenient and also prudent to stay in or around Fira because most of the hotels and restaurants are there, plus the hub of the bus service is also at Fira. So every bus either leaves from Fira or crosses through Fira. Another interesting thing one can rent is Quadribike, it’s motorcycle with four wheels. You just have to show your driving license, not necessarily International but even of your own country, and in few Euros, it’s all yours. You can criss-cross the island in any which way at your wish and discretion! Call me coward but I didn’t dare. One thing, in foreign countries you are unaware of the topography but more than that, the traffic rules. And it’s not India that in few bucks you can ‘Patao Pandu’! The law is not only strict but it is followed stringently by everybody, including ‘Pandu!’

There is drastic difference in Europe when you travel ‘in season’ or ‘off season’. As usual there are always two sides for the same coin. Off season remarkably absent are, ‘Crowds.’ You don’t see thronging for every damn thing so rates are less. But the banes are, there are very less services as hardly anybody is around to give them! So many services of convenience are just shut off! On the contrary in season, beaches are bursting at seams due to flood of humanity! Hardly there is any place even to rest your butts. It’s like 1000 fritters being fried in a small wok! Everybody brings his own vehicle, as services of row-row boats are in operation, so there are regular traffic jams, like any crowded city! And I abhor crowds. Off season was just boon for me!

The reason for which we had come to Santorini was in front of us. It was like gorgeous set erected on the stage for opulent and royal opera! It was early dusk, time to put on the lights. Initially only a small house was lit; it looked like a lone firefly in a huge jungle. Slowly one after the other all those beautiful houses from small to palatial manors started putting on the lights and the entire slopes of Santorini bathed in luminescence par excellence! Within a short span of just 20 minutes entire Fira adorned lights like those in Diwali or Christmas! And my camera started acting truant!  It refused to draw the picture on paper. Ultimately after putting it on stand, when I tried the timer, beauty in its utmost form descended upon the screen! Viola!

Satiety is not only about hunger, it could be about your ethereal longings too! Full to the brim we returned home, I mean to Villa Manos. Food is never a problem for me; on the contrary I am a gourmet and like to taste cuisine from various parts of India and world. So never missed usual ‘Dal Chawal’. In fact those who miss should not venture out in the first place. Once abroad if you miss it, collect all your belongings and return to India.

Had nice Greek supper with Greek wine and then succumbed to sleep!

   

 

 

Stop Reading

My Protagonists.

 

Though I have stopped reading recently, in my opinion it corrupts the free thinker, [more about it later] I was an avid reader since my childhood. And often I wondered, when writers wrote about the feelings they had for their characters ‘outside’ their write-ups, be it a short story, poetry or novel. I thought it was odd. If you are taking it as a slice from life, they in fact are in flesh and blood and nothing extra ordinary if they come out and talk with you, on the contrary the writer had based his story on their experiences, nothing his own.

When the characters from my new novel, ‘Nine points and Beyond’ took possession of my thinking process I was at loggerheads with myself. It was nothing of sort I had experienced before nor have read about it. May be, I was too involved in the process of writing so they left me paralyzed me as a being.

For example though it is said you, everybody for that matter is never 100% male and/or female when I tried to think from the point of Narayan , a young lad , all robust, manly, athletic, handsome with homosexual orientation, I could not go under his skin to that extent. All that what I had read, only got transpired on the paper, nothing from my field of personal experience. So when I started jotting him down on paper at a particular moment I just could not think ahead. In frustration I got up from the desktop and was irritable for the rest of the day. My experience to have writers’ block! Why, in practice of 50 years barring only 2 patients, none came out even on the medical grounds! Maybe I attributed all these qualities to him just to show that in spite of being ‘All’ this, one’s sexual orientation could be alternative, to endorse the normalcy of the condition probably, but ‘He’ did not like it. He did not want to be gay. He pleaded with me, ‘please don’t make me Gay, and let me be as normal as one can be.’ And surprisingly I sympathized with him being romantic to the level of stupidity. So even being Gay he has a lady love who loves him for what he is. And gave him all those emotions what a heterosexual adolescent lad could have. I don’t know by doing so whether I deviated him from the natural course what Gays follow because I was just not aware of it. Anyway I wanted him to be as ‘Human’ as possible, sexual orientation being just one facet of self; I feel I am successful in doing so. At places I myself was so worried about him that I wanted him not to go wayward but being IITean topper he had his head firmly on his shoulders and he chose the right path in the most dignified way!

Second character that bothered me a lot was the victim of Pedophilia. The condition though prevalent in every society right from the inception of humanity, only now it is being discussed openly. Even being consultant but not practicing Pediatrics I hardly came across any case of child molestation having its repercussions in adult life. It’s so habitually pushed under the carpet in hush hush tones that whatever we experience may just be the tip of the iceberg. Why he meekly surrenders to the rascal? Stray instances if the child is having good psychological back up from the home or the peers he/she takes it in his own stride and leads a mostly normal life.[Again what’s that? It has become a fashion now a day to go deep to the roots and excavate some figment that maybe/may not be the reason for ‘THE’ behavior , not considered as normal] But if they are repetitive, that too under duress the victim suffers a lot, carrying the burden of it even to his adult life. Again a domain, alien to me, like Homosexuality. Lot of reading, going through references and addition of study, done on my own, of the young ones from the particular area brought him on the paper. Again because he is intelligent does not carry the cross on his shoulders throughout the life and changes according to the circumstances. May be again outcome of my being romantic to the core!

Third one did not pose much problem because though he comes from an orthodox background, it remains just at that, A background! What posed a dilemma for me was how to paint the religious outfit he hails from? Though maligned for their extreme right wing outlook, in my personal experience average RSSite is quite a level headed person and is always on the go to help anybody and everybody when the need arises. On the broader front I feel the thinking that, ‘If Israel can do it why not Hindus?’ could be the root cause for their extreme thinking. For me, in 21^st century ‘Religion is the most redundant thing!’ His father being journalist, helped him to break the barriers, which I feel was always at back of his mind, to give fanatics the jolt of their life time. In my personal experience, it’s a fact but least dramatic. Families from both the sides happily attended the wedding and both are leading a normal life but on an alien land! The crux lies here!

I frequent an asylum being run by a young energetic lad since he himself was eighteen and stories of likes of Shewanta/Mohini abound. Of course with happy ending. So that too was not a problem but the problem was of hearts. Only girl in the novel, practically childhood sweetheart of one of the boys has to accept that he is not the one for her but apart from him there is none for her! May be cliche’ again but I had to end novel on most romantic note. It was possible only because they were on the same level though their sexual orientations mismatched.

All in all, all of them occupied a huge part of my life taking away huge chunk of mental peace in the process. I realized on the way, that it is possible for your characters, to whose existence you and you are solely responsible, to hound you to the level of disturbing your daily life.

But is it not the life all about?

 

What is bliss?

 

What's Bliss?

Entire humankind has been running nonstop to catch the other end of rainbow, for times immortal. It has found ways and means to be after it; almost amounting to a dictum, when one gets it, at the earliest, is the most blessed. If unattainable, even for the well to do, but if you manage to snatch it, at any cost, the bliss is utmost, supreme.   I too went through the same rigmarole like a dog trying to catch his own tail that goes in circles. I too went, cars after cars, newer model every time, changed homes, traveled to, specifically the jaunts abroad, more strenuous to reach, more the level of bliss. Means, if you have seen aurora borealis in freezing cold of -20* Celsius or Penguins parading on the south pole, or witnessed a croc gulping down an entire fawn in Amazon rain forest. You count yourself the most chosen one with the blessings directly from the God! Well almost!

There always has been debate over what’s more satisfying, materialistic things or if you can achieve Nirvana spiritually, it’s the bliss of the highest denomination. I don’t understand this business of spiritualism. Your bloody existence is the outcome of the most materialistic pleasure for your creators, so when you run after that hallucination, Nirvana you are denying your very existence. So when you attain spiritual bliss, you see the things but you don’t see, you feel the things but you don’t feel, you are just after that imaginary escape that will relieve you of your existential burden. Horse shit? Bull shit is unparliamentary! Sun is setting down with spread of all the hues of warm colours on the horizon that lifts your tired soul off the day to day zig zig of your existence known otherwise as life and you are not supposed to enjoy it. Your inner self is longing for the melody that soothed your most sour nerves when you were deep down in the pit, and the notes float on the air, you swing with the notes and your jaded being again leaps like phoenix after the ordeal in the fire and you are not supposed to enjoy it, what kind of spiritualism is this? At the cross roads after a long tiring day and a drive and the player in the car drizzles,

‘Lag ja Galesay Ke phir ye hasin Raat ho na ho...’

I think there won’t be any soul from Indian Diaspora whose spirits are not lifted up by this divinity in the form of Lata Mangeshkar! And you turn your back towards it? Are you made from the different clay than I am made of?

You are on a steep cliff on the high Alps and the valley in front of you is filled with nothing but clouds, fog and that mysterious thing the mist. And there is entry of this sole sun-ray that lifts up the veil on the blushing gal, the earth who presents herself in the most splendorous of her looks and you are not supposed to say even, ‘Aha?’ What’s the logic?

You come alone, are pampered by your doting ones, as the path unveils, you find your so called soul mate, may not be in most of the cases, either they just pull on or keep on going after the mirage they would like to call as soul mate, all in all, empty handed in the end. And where is the bliss in this?

But there too is lesson in this. The entire rigmarole makes you understand the importance of bliss.

I am all alone, dipping myself in bathtub with water at correct temperature nursing the most refined single malt, mind is as empty as a clean slate and I am just not thinking of anything, neither of that moment at that juncture nor of the moments innumerable thereafter, I am not thinking of my existence at that point of time nor I am bothered about when it will cease to be, is it less than a bliss?

Even while having self gratification you are making love to most lovely person in the universe, yourself, no strings attached no compulsions of any kind, you and yourself! It’s the world!

Solitude in the bounties of earthlings, you are loving just yourself and nothing else, just nothing else matters, what more a bliss could be than this! Cloudless sky above even without a lone star, no humanity for distances that are countless, no thought of birth, rebirth death or survival. Just you with yourself! You are with yourself loving every moment of it, neither you require your soul mate to do so nor the outwardly things those are pleasing at the most superficial levels. Your inner mirror reflects nothing but yourself in most handsome avatar, ‘No bliss can be more blissful than it!’

Nothing is more blissful when you are in love with yourself. Of course not in a selfish way. Be detached, still totally in to it!

Essentially ‘Come on terms with yourself, accept it and the utmost bliss will be you, being your own soul mate!