Writing

I get a bit angry when people comment negatively on my writing. I know I don't have the best writing style in the world, but that's alright. I don't need to. Don't get me wrong now, I like criticism, and I take it very well. I'm happy to be told what exactly is wrong with my writing. A long time ago, a very senior journo, and a very good writer, when he wanted me to move from a newspaper to telly said, "I've seen your writing. You're good, but you're never going to be a bestseller. So come to TV." I didn't go immediately, but I did, a year later."

It's happened a few times, when people will say, "you're not really the greatest writer around, you know." I didn't really ask for your opinion, and I'm not going to take your advice. I'll take it after you've won a pulitzer or something.

When it comes to a macro estimation of my writing ability, I prefer notes like an ex sent me. I think she pretty much hates me, but this is what she said, only a few days ago, with me asking for it.

"I think u have what it takes to be a good writer: a beard, sexiness, occasional meanness, occasional cynicism, hedonism, love for nature and all things beautiful, a slight melancholic bent and a good use of language and rhetoric."

So, screw you if you don't think i'll be great.

Doobie doobie doo...

Doobie doobie doo.

“There are none so old as those who have lost the enthusiasm for life.” Or so said thoreau.

Enthusiasm for life is difficult these days. I look around me, and what do I see? I see people, living like ants. With ants in their pants. Ants with ants in their pants.

I look around me, and people’s lives have become about going to work, to do a job they don’t really understand, to sell things they don’t really understand to people who they’ll never really understand. People like them.

You get up in the morninging. Brush your teeth. Take a dump. Drop your kidds off at the water park. Wash your bum (or wipe if you’re a whitey). Then you eat a breaky, or not. Who gives a shit. Works more important. Then you rush. To school, to work, to earn your daily bread. Who gives a shit if you trespass against your fellow men for the bread. You drink like, 30 cups of coffee at work, cos its free you know, and free stuff is good. (it keeps you quite quiet like they say. So what if your job sucks and your boss is a bitch... at least you got free coffee) Then you come back, adn you watch telly. Something about a bombing in iraq, or maoists in bengal or rakshi sawant selling her body and sole for a swaymwar.

Then you kiss your significant other goodnigt and you go to sleep. And then you do it again, the next day, over and ficking over. You know that you’re doing it over and over, and you know that its going to tap the sap from your soul, but you do it, cos you know you’ll get promotoed. You’ll get 10k more next year, and you’ll get the corner office one day. And who gives a shit if you become fat and tired and impotent.

So, where’s the enthusiasm for life? A twenty day holiday maybe... that’ll raise your enthusiasm levels for a while. Strengthen you, so you can have the courage to go back to the rat race.

Everyone is like that. Sometimes, it feels like we’ve forgotten to dream. And those of us who do dream... what do we dream of... fame... fortune... money... an lcd telly...

We;re like little ants. Except we’re not so little. Our goal is to feed the big machine.

What happened to sucking the joy out of every moment. And feeling excited about the moments that are to come, even if you don’t know what they bring. To facing life head on, and riding it, like a wave. Or have we become too old for that.

I felt it today, i felt the enthusiasm. I felt it like a rush. It came like a whirlwind, and took me up in it. All of a sudden, my soul was swept along, and waking dreams came to me, rushing at me, pommeling me, filling me with all kinds of happy emotions that I’d lost. I began to plot and plan, and the plots and plans werent real, tey were just designs, on how I would feel the world and take it all in and drink it like a drink churned from the sea. Woo hoo. I got all hubbllybubbly and i felt like I was higher than the ground.

Here’s when it happened. When driving in a bus, seat numer 15, window, from ranchi to tatanagar. Passed through a forest that I forgot the name of, but all of a sudden, i could see large green mountains. Filled with trees. They were everywhere. The moutnains big. Isolated from each other, not like the ones at home, and not like the himalays. They were jst standing there, facing each other, all shoulder to shoulder.

Mountains do it for me. They brought out this enthusiams from within me, and I suddenly wished I were walking amongs the trees. I wished I were tripping on the roots, and my boots sinking into the mud. I dreamt of putting up a hammock and spending the night there, with the animals for company. I couldn;t of course, so i dreamt it all.

And I thought of the himalayas. And how i would be there and soak them into every pore in my body, and fill my breath with himalayan air.

And then they ended, the moutnains. And then I saw people again. Cycling from work, riding home from scool, doing what they must, in place of doing what they should.

And the enthusiasm began to ebb... i could feel it. But i reaced in put a little dam, and stopped it from going further... the elation gave way... but the seeds remain. Life must be lived. And life must be loved.

Taking breaks.

When i'm traveling, I like going to unexplored, difficult places. I'm not interested in going to tourist spots like Khajuraho or hampi. I want to go where I don't know anybody, and everyone is strange to me. I want to go to difficult places and learn about people.

But, I also want to go where my friends are, where I can meet people like me. One of the places I did that is Hyderabad.

So my traveling seems to have worked itself into this rythm. I first go to a place where I can learn, research and challenge myself. Then, I go to a place where I can kick back, enjoy and have be with friends.

I lived and worked there for a year, and it was easily the best time I had. I had a bunch of friends from all over the world, working all kinds of jobs. I knew that every time I went out with them, I was guaranteed to have a good time. I never remember not having fun. I also remember good conversation, and my friends were there for me when I needed them.

Which is why I spent two weeks in hyderabad.

Unfortunately, whenever you go back to a p lace, you find that things have changed. Nothing remains the same, of course, but you exect it to be the same at least. The group I know doesn't hang out at B'n'C anymore. It goes to Firefly and some fancy nightclub in a fancy hotel (the names of both i've forgotten). I realise I don't like clubs so much. THey're too big, and filled with people trying to be nice-looking and the atmosphere's negative and the drinks are too expensive.

What I did enjoy was BNO, or Boy's Night Out. This is just a collection of dudes getting together on someone terrace and drinking. Then we proceed to make fun of each other deep into the night (usually Chocolate ... yep, that's his name) Its fun, and without pressure, and I liked the guys a lot.

Heres what was interesting in hyderabad, I had a date. With a very pretty girl i've known for a while. The last time I met her was at a party, and I made a complete fool of myself. We had coffee, and chatted. I don't think I felt 'the zing', but it was fun. It's been a while since I dated, and that was a good way for me to move on. We do keep in touch, but very very little. Although I did promise to send her a letter, the paper kind.

So yea, when I'm traveling, i like taking breaks. Thats why i took the weekend in calcutta, and thats why I'll go home for a few weeks. Also, i need to earn some money.

I have a heart of iron.

I am like a lion.

I eat beef.

I am chief.

I be strong.

I be wrong.

Iron like the lion in sion.

Cheap travel in India

Here's what i've figured out about traveling. The biggest expenses when traveling are usually i) getting there and ii)Staying there.

That might seem like a no brainer, but it really isn't. If the actual act of traveling is about getting somewhere (rather than comfort and luxury), then you can save a lot of money on traveling. The prices a ticket on the same train can vary from 95 rupees to 2500 rupees. The only tickets that area always available are the cheapest, in the unreserved compartment. The ticket only gives you the right to enter the train, not the right to a seat. If you board the train anywhere after the station where it originates, you're unlikely to get a seat. That means that you will be sharing the floor and passageways with drunks, tribals on the way to a funeral, the occasional bunch of soldiers in the wrong compartment, obese men from central delhi, with their wives feeding them, labourers on the way home and hungry uncoordinated men dropping sambar on your backpack.

While this is cheap, I can't do this sort of travel too often (but, i do plan to do it tomorrow, from Kolkata to Jamshedpur). It's very tiring. Now, the next category of ticket, (sleeper class) I think, isn't too expensive either. A couple of hundred bucks at the most. But the problem is, unless you book it in advance, you're not going to get a ticket. If the train is popular, you need at least a few weeks. A few days is alright for a faraway destination that doesn't get too many travelers (for instance, Ballarshah). 3 tier a/c tickets are hard to come by, while 2 tier a/c tickets are slightly easier. But the problem is that they're much more expensive (if available).

If you want to fly, you're not getting a ticket at short notice for anywhere less than a few thousand (unless you're really lucky). And I don't enjoy flights anyway, they go against the spirit of traveling in India.

So, the secret to traveling really cheap is planning ahead. Now I know this goes against the essence of backpacking, but, it helps. If you know you're going to be going to hyderabad, just walk to railway station anywhere, and you can book a ticket. Of course, as with anything in india, booking ticket from different stations can be a bit complicated (quotas and nonsense), which is why, there is the very beautiful irctc.com or indianrail.gov.in

Its the same with bus tickets. If you can, find out where the bus leaves from, and if you can book a ticket in advance (you usually can't for state transport buses). It's also the same with getting to the airport, in case you do take the flight. In hyderabad, i paid 600 bucks to take a call-cab to the airport, since i overslept and missed the bus that costs 100 bucks.

So, be early, be on time, and you can travel cheap.

(Ironically, i type this post at 1 am, when i shuold be up at 4.30 for a 6.55 train to Jamshedpur, from where I need to get to Hazaribagh, and I have NO idea how to do that.)

Good things

"All good things are simple."

That much, I know is true. And there are NO exceptions to that. If its not simple, its not good. Can apply to anything, friends, relationships, jobs, martial arts, food, people. Anything. And there is nobody in the world who can counter this (if they can, they're a little screwed in the head, and need to figure themselves out)

And yet, despite knowing it, I keep looking for complicated. Of course, now that I know the mistakes I make, I try to make them less, but I still make them.

The craziest night ever - part 1

After 2 weeks of being nowhere near the coffee, I finally found a small restaurant (the Rasraj Pure Veg), which actually whipped up a really nice glass of cold coffee. I had two, and the caffeine kept me up for the crazy night ahead.

I bought a ticket train ticket for 98 rupees from Chandrapur to Hyderabad. That's about 400 km, and 98 bucks is a good deal. Except of course, there isn't a seat reserved in your name, so if you don't get a seat, you have to share the floor with a third of humanity.

I had two hours to kill before the train got there, so I plonked my bag on the platform, and settled down to reading Romeo and Juliet. Romeo was deep in conversation with the Friar, when an old, tottering man walked past, staring at me. He paused a

moment, and then said to me in garbled English, "Eshcuse me, where are you to going?" Now, for some reason, my backpack attracts a fair amount of attention in these parts, and I didn't think much of it. "Hyderabad," i said, expecting him to go away.

But he didn't. He decided to come talk to me for the most insane conversation I have been in.

Switching between his crazy english and slurry Hindi, he says, "I know you. I know you very well. The moment I saw you, I knew, you are a great person. Wonderful. You will be very great." Ok, i thought, another drunk looking for someone to buy him

a peg. I've been there, i have pity.

Me : Thank you.

Drunk : No no.... see I know everything about you. (in english) Whatsh ya edducasion?

me: er... BA.

Drunk : BA? What's this BA.

Me : Arts (as, i look away and pretned to read my book again)

Drunk : I don't know this arts... what it is... i don't.

Me : (smile)

Drunk : I know your marks... you got First class, yea? You got 63 percent.

At this point, I was a little, how shall we say, surprised. Oddly, I did get around that much in my BA exam. OK, So, i was a little surprised, but that's a guess that anybody could have made. I don't really look like the kind of person who's ever aced an exam (also I won the spelling prize in 2nd standard), and I don't look like the kind who flunked too many exams (I am, actually, but i don't look it), so its an average score like 63 is a good guess to make.

Drunk : So, you have a job?

Me : er, no, not really.

Drunk : What do you do then?

Me : I, er, i'm just traveling.

Drunk : now, see, how's that gonna help? See the thing with you is, you don't have the guts. You got all the opportunity, you could do whatever you want, but you

just don't do it. So you run around, wandering here and there. Guts. You see, lemme give you a piece of advice. Only because I know you, ok? So, you know, you have a problem with your parents. That's true. BUt you gotta choose. See, you gotta love them, and then you'll go really far. Trust me. Otherwise you'll just be like this, you'll just wander around like this, and you'll never really be able to send home any money.

Now, this is interesting (and unsolicited) advice from a random drunk. Not that i needed it, but I couldn't argue with any of it. The best I could do was sit there and laugh.

Then, the drunkasauraus tells me about his life. His name i

s MS Kulkarni and he was an engineer in the Electricity Department. He did a course in engineeringing (but not a degree) and then got a job in the department. He kept getting promoted untill he became an assistant engineer (which isn't actually very high up). All his 4 daughters got married into good homes, though, and one of his son in-laws earn's a lakh a month, and so she doesn't need to work. His son works in a company call BEL, and he's doing pretty well too.

He says, "See, I could have been really succesful. I could have been a nice person. But, I drink."

I'm still laughing when I say, "so why don't you stop?"

Drunk : You, see the problem is, that my wife... my w

ife, see, my wife won't give me any.

Me : Give you any ... what?

Drunk : Sex.

Me: (still laughing, and noticing that the other passangers are laughing too) So, maybe if you stopped drinking, she would.

Drunk : no no no ... i tried once, i tried to stop drinking, but no. No sex. So I get bored. So i drink.

Me : ha ha ha ... so, tell me something else that's interesting about me.

Drunk : You want interesting. Ok. I'll tell you what. How many friends do you have.

Me : Well, you know, a lot.

Drunk : Close friends?

Me : Maybe ... two or three?

Drunk : Well, one of your close friends will betray you.

Me : ok .... ?

Drunk : and your friend's name... begins with S.

At this point, i was a little ... shocked. You see, the girl that just broke up with me a few weeks ago, her name starts with S. To be honest, she didn't betray me, but he was drunk, so a little inaccuracy is allowed.

At this point, i was about to believe that this man had some sort of wierdly functioning, alcohol-fueled psychic sense. And then, he says this.

Drunk : I predict you'll get married within the next year. An

d don't worry, she'll be really beautiful, and you'll love her, and your parents will love her. But, yea, you have to make sure that she has long hair. And if she has long hair, don't even allow her to cut it.

Me : Long hair? Why?

Drunk : Because.... long hair is really sexy.

again, i launch into a fit of laughter.

Drunk : and i'll tell you how to know. First you kiss her. When you kiss do, suck her lips like you're sucking a mango. You know how to suck a mango (and here he makes a sucking face, grossing me out). If she sucks back like she's sucking a mango, then she loves you. If not, move on to the next girl.

Advice noted.

Drunk : and then, on the wedding night, you gotta be gentle. First she'll say 'no', so you don't force her, yea. Be gentle. Kiss her. Then you take her clothes off. And then you gotta be slow. Then when she lets you, you wrap her legs around your neck and then you do her.

Not only am i clutching my stomach in laughter, but half the station can hear this man... because he's not quiet. The funny thing is, i'm getting sex advice from a man who's wife won't sleep with him.

He then goes on into explaining to me, very graphica

lly, how to tell if she's a virgin. "But you see," i say, "Now a days it doesn't really matter." "Look," he says, "you asked me to tell you something interesting, now if you don't wanna take this advice, don't but i'm going to give it to you."

Then, as soon as it started, its over. He gets up and says, "I'm going to my bags, take care." No mention of money, he's gone.

Here's a pic of him.

Now all that's left of the night is me sprinting with a full backpack, making some random friends, watch the train get stormed by cops with armour and AKs, and almost get on their wrong side. Thats for the next post, i'm going to work out for a while now.

Women

When you hit the road, whatever your aims and objectives, if you have them, are, there's always a thought in the back of your mind, that you're going to meet a beautiful woman. 

So, picture this. There I was in, in the middle of nowhere, 200 kms from the nearest railway station. In a hospital run by Gandhians. All about me are men and women whose faces look like sunken skulls, there for free treatment. I'm sitting there, waiting for the bus. I've been told it comes in thirty minutes, so I take the time to bid adieu to the good lady doctor, who's husband is away, so she's swamped in work, and sweating from an emergency operation. So i'm sitting at the table, watching her look at tribal kids with rashes andmen who got drunk and hit their heads and women who will whisper in her ear and all kinds of things. 

Keep in mind that i'm leaving the place in ten minutes.

And i'm chatting with the good lady doctor about how the govt. doesn't care (it doesn't) and how the poor boy may not make it and how I incidentally happened to get a professor she hated fired. And i'm about to say, "ok, I'm going to take your leave, it was very nice meeting you...."

And suddenly, out of nowhere, in walks the most beautiful girl. She's tall, with a complexion that's almost glowing in the dingy room. She's speaking marathi, of course, (cos everyone's speaking it there), but she has a slight lilt to it. As it turns out, she's a doctor, but she works somewhere else. The two doctors talk shop for a while, and I, too shocked to say anything, just watch. Then this little kid comes in, with an injury on his leg. When this new, beautiful, doctor look at it, her face crinkles up, and you can see the pain in her eyes, almost like she's feeling it herself. 

I had to stop myself from falling in love right there. All i could do is sit there and dig her. I didn't say a word. 

The older doctor, who i've spent the past few days with, looks at her and says, "Hmm, so this is a surprise, seeing you dressed up all ethic." This girl is wearing a light brown salwaar kameez, with a dupatta wrapped around her neck. She was like the image of perfect, innocent beauty. And i just sat there, digging her. 

You know, i'd like to meet a girl like that. Who's beautiful, and smart, and cares for things that every else doesn't. (if you're wondering where I got the smart from without talking to here, dude, she's a doctor)

So i just sat there, and smiled. This was a sign, from the god I don't believe  in. I just got out of a relationship 2 weeks ago. To be more accurate, the relationship was got out of me, without me doing much getting out. And I was screwed up in the head about that for a while. I'm not hung up on the girl who dumped me, but its pissing off to realise that everything you wanted to believe in the past year, doesn't exist. 

And then I see this girl, this angel from I don't know where, and i sit there digging her, and I smile to myself, and I know, I just knew, that things will  be alright. 

Early learnings.

When you're on the road, you learn to learn quickly. You also learn to adapt and improvise. Not being a veteran traveler, there's a lot I have to learn, and i'm learning a lot of it fast. Its been about a week, and I've learned that i've already made quite a few mistakes. S of them are easily remedied, some of them not so easily.

1) I've packed too much. In terms of clothes, the only things i needed to be comfortable were : A pair of shorts (or 2), a pair of Jeans (levi's, in honour of good ole' Mr. Jack), two tee shirts, one shirt and plenty of underwear. The only thing I got right was underwear. I have 3 pants, 2 thick shirts, two normal shirt (just in case I have to look decent), 5 or 6 tees, a jacket (for the hills), rain pants and shirt (the monsoons are periliously close). Of all of this, I can, now, only stand by my decision to lug the jacket and rain gear all the way. I have no idea how to get rid of the rest... i could dump it, but I don't really want to, since I'll eventually need it, and then I won't have money to buy new stuff. I think I might wait bit, since I have to eventually stop off at home to sign my income tax returns (of which there really are none, but in an uncharacteristic bit of forward thinking, i'm doing it in case i ever need a visa for anywhere).

2) Wandering aimlessly is good, but you should have some basic idea of where you're going next and where you're going after that.

3) Dont always trust maps. Two places may look like they're in a straight line, and that one is on the way to the other, but the universe and the Indian Railways will have different plans for you.

4) I'll tell you which cell phone operator has the best network in India. BSNL. They have towers where others wouldn't bother going, or aren't allowed yet. This is a lesson I should have learnt from my days in Kashmir, but for now, i'm stuck to being the no. 1 customer at the no. 1 Phone Booth in Bhamragarh.

5) The one thing I CANNOT get rid of, is my laptop. But, if I could, i'd do it in a single shot. Or trade it for one of those smaller, cheaper ones... I've seen an acer thats tiny.

6) Its easy to lose focus. While I am wandering, I also have a definate objective - I want to complete research for a book i've always wanted to write. I have to keep in mind that I shouldn't lose focus.

Thats it for now. I'm going to go visit some tribal villages tomorrow ... I hear they make interesting alcohol from Mohua Trees (madhuca Indica)! It isn't illegal for tribals in India to brew their own alcohol, but its potent stuff. A 6 or 7 year old boy was brought to the hospital today, in a coma. Apparently, he drank too much of the stuff last night, and became unconscious. His fool parents waited a whole day before bringing him, thinking that if they force-fed him tamarind juice, he'd vomit it out. Unfortunately, most of it went into his lungs, and his survival seems bleak.

Hemalkasa

I can never look at food again the same way. And, for the first time in my life, i'm truly humbled.

I've spent the past few days at a small hospital in Gadchiroli. Known as the Lok Biradari Prakalp, this hospital was started by Dr. Prakash Amte and his wife Mandakini Amte. The aim was to provide healthcare to the very backward and Madia tribals who live in the forests of Gadchiroli District. Slowly, the hospital has grown, and now also has a school and animal rescue centre.

Dr. Amte was awarded the Ramon Magsaysay award last year. His father, Baba Amte, was also given the same honour many years ago.

I came here without knowing anybody, just an introduction to Aniket Amte, Prakash Bhau's (or brother, as he's known) son. As soon as I got here, they welcomed me, and let the place open to me. Prakash Bhau himself showed me around the place.

The next couple of days, i spent wandering around the place. In the mornings, I sat with Dr. Digant (Prakash Bhau;s son) and his wife Dr. Anagha. Firstly, I was struck by how dedicated they were, and how much they cared for their patients. Of course, they seem to take it all in their stride, like they've seen it all before. Like other good doctors, they too have what can be called a rough touch. But in their actions, and the care they take, I could see how dedicated they were.

"Hey, don't go around with those gloves on!" Anagha yells at an assistant. "Now that you've touched other things with them, don't use them on patients," she tell him. A little while later, i watch as she sews up a wound just about a girl's eye - without anasthetic. "It'll take 2 pokes to put the anasthetic in, and 2 pokes to sew it up. So it may seem hard, but its practical."

A little later, I watch as Prakash bhau sets a broken femur right. The girl's leg is completely broken, and she can't walk. When I had a broken knuckle, i was complete anesthetised and 2 pins were put in. Prakash bhau and Digant set her leg right by pulling on it, and holding it in place while a splint is applied. "In the city, the two pieces of bone would have been joined by a metal plate and held in place. Here this is all we can do." When the hospital was started, fractures were treated without even x-rays.


Thats how the Amte's work. Clad in their trademark vests and shorts, they take it all as it comes. While they may seem to treat everything casually, you can see that its actually a sense of duty and purpose, veiled with compassion.

For long i've wondered about the problem of daily. How we go through our lives, running to and from offices, just getting through the day. The amte's have a sense of purpose. That, i think, makes all the difference. They seem to live in a simpler time, when it was important to do good. I could feel that simpler time when the youngest of the Amte's, Aniket and his wife, took me for a small hike this morning. We walked to a temple a few clicks away (Aniket didn't bother praying) and ate the nicest little mangoes i've ever eaten off the forest floor.

Another thing that is beginning to strike me here is the abject poverty that the tribals live in. Its nothing like that which we see in the cities. Most of the people that come here suffer from some sort of nutritional deficiency. The TB patients here all look so thin and malnourished. Even being a journo who claims to have seen India, i'd never seen this before.

Malnutrition here seems to have become almost endemic, and is the major cause for many diseases, including TB. "Its like AIDS," he says, "except that there is nothing we can do about this. At least AIDS can be treated to some extent... where will these people get food from." During the OPD hours, Anagha says, "It's a vicious circle. They get TB because they are malnourished, and because they get TB, they get even weaker. When they are here in the hospital they get better, then they go back and fall ill again."

Here are a couple of pictures of people that i spoke to.




Looks like pictures from war-torn Sudan, don't they. No, they're really from war-torn Gadchiroli. (oh, i didn't mention, but there is a war on here... but i'll leave that for another post).

Nasik

It's day three on the road, and I'm sitting in a dingy room in a government guest house in nasik. The shower works, but water also flows out of the water-heater when you turn on the tap. The bed sheets had odd, very large patches on them before a skinny boy in tattered jeans and a red wifebeater changed them for me late last night. When I asked him for a bottle of water, he waited to finish drinking himself, then gave me the same water.

And, if you believe me, this is a VIP (very important person) room in this guest-house! Now, by no stretch of imagination am I a VIP, so how did i get this room. Thanks to a News camerman I know with a penchant for drama (I once saw him call a police station, pretending to be the Chief Minister's Personal Assistant, and order the cops to free his nephew, who'd been arrested for riding a motorcycle without a licence). He pulled a few strings and got someone to call the manager of the Guest house, who in turn called the front desk, who got a room unlocked for me. When we were walking in, my friend insisted on carrying my (rather heavy) backpack saying, "watch this." He then went up to the reception and said, "You have to give him a VIP room! Do you know who he is? Didn't your boss tell you? He's a very important journalist. He knows everyone! And he's my boss, so please give him a VIP room." He then turned around and said in the worst engish I've heard, "Sar, how many you wants stay days? One? ok cool one."

Later I asked him (in hindi) what he'd studied, and he said (in hindi), "I have a BA. In English literature." So much for the indian education system.

Other than meet an old friend (acquaintance) I was lucky to meet another interesting young chap,. For some odd reason, this guy, who's so close to the naxal heartland, has a fascination for all insurgencies north-east. He claims to be on back slapping terms with the leader of a Naga Insurgency, and claims to have filmed their training camps in the north east. He says that these insurgencies run a business : to train other militant groups from all over the region!

I realised that coming to nasik was slightly off my route. So, I paid Rs. 80 for a ride to the Nasik Road Railway station. 80 is a lot of money when you have so little of it. I paid another 750 rupees for a ticket to Chandrapur on the Sewagram express. It's an odd train that goes only upto nagpur, but the last 4 bogies are reattached to the Ballarshah express, and they make they way upto Ballarshah. Chandrapur is on route.

first post.

So, in a few hours from now, i'm supposed to hit the road. I wanted to feel like Che or Jack... or even Gautam Buddha, but i feel like some digital nomad. 

Its not the same, is it, to be connected when you nomading.