Cheers 🥂

Its not the actual drinking but the romance surrounding it that puts me on a high regarding alcohol. Most of the aura of alcohol drinking has been made by the movies i guess, just like love making.... love making has been so un-naturally sugar coated picturised in movies that when one is actually down to the act one is terribly heart broken... love making has so much been hyped and typed and angled and positioned in the Hollywood movies that when the rosy bubble pops its nothing but air!!!
so... as i was saying, the same thing happens with alcohol... there are so many picture frames that come to your mind.... ahhh... ohh so handsome James bonds, all of them, medium dry martini, stirred and not shaken with an olive on top🍸, what the hell is that!!! i can only differentiate between alcohol drunk with water which is called whisky and another alcohol drunk without water which is called beer.. that's that simple....😕 
The party scene where the champagne comes sitting in a silver bucket full of ice, the bubbly itself when poured into slim glasses looks so lovely and inviting those small tiny bubbles rising to the top and sometimes you might actually find a diamond ring at the bottom !!! 🥂you want to have that moment in your life too...as for me i can tell that any alcohol that you pour from a bottle into long stemmed glass and drink are yellowish pale in colour with bubbles rising to the top, the first sip tastes like sugar syrup mixed with vinegar and then you have the gastritis... 😣
All those sexy ladies who have a long slit in their skirts will sway with a bottle of red wine in their right hand and a round bottommed glass delicately balanced on the left hand fingers🍷 and drop right into your bed... i bet you guys want that moment too!!! but can you imagine the stain it leaves on the bedsheet, and red wine is again sugar and vinegar along with a huge amount of peppers and spices and what else i cannot tell, but the taste burns right upto the large intestine... 😫A low-lit bar,the music is jazz, sitting on a high stool, striking up a conversation with a stranger, sipping on the rocks🥃 and then... walking in the rain... later a one night stand... wooh... who doesn't want that!!!... but single malt best had with ice is so so very expensive, i could only sometimes open the cabinet, look at it and day-dream my one night stand...😖
Next someone carrying a crateful of beer, the bell rings, the large tv is on, a match is going on... buddy-time!!! yeah!!! gulping down can after can of beer with slices of pizza maybe🍺... how is it humanely possible i wonder, so much fluid along with all that carbon dioxide... 😏
Alcohol gives a sense of euphoria you are shown people, couples dance the night away, drink and dance🍻... amazing way to burn calories... i prefer that to hitting the gym, don't you???... but i haven't yet come across any husband who actually takes his wife and drinks and dances at the same time, i for instance haven't seen the interiors of a discotheque in my 45 years... 😐
Next comes to mind the cocktails... such wonderful decorative pieces, you fashionably sip with a straw, lounging on the beach under the umbrella... topped on that someone rubbing suntan on you... ummm.. lovely isn't it🍹... but the darker the cocktails the hellier they taste, i once had bloody mary, who could like that its tomato juice with chilli-pepper and i couldn't get past that salty rim of the glass, i could anyday trade it for a glass of simple milk shake.😳
Anyway... as i was saying, i drink alcohol too but the euphoria persists till the first sip.After that what comes puts me to sleep.
The ambience matters, the light let it be dimmed,or sky full of stars, once in kalimpong after a large spell of rain showers the night sky cleared to reveal stars i walked into the terrace of Morgan house, alcohol worked magic on the senses, i felt rejuvenated.
Memories of drinking goes back to my childhood days, the father and uncles used to sit, chat, drink... there were yearly get togethers in our ancestral village house, we kids and cousins used to play and fool around. Baba used to give me a sip now and then but actually campa-cola was the main attraction.
Brandy holds a special place in my heart, it was severe cold winters in uttar pradesh where i had spent my childhood, ma used to bring milk,thick and sweet glass full along with 2 spoonfuls of brandy. Beer got introduced early in to my life. uttar pradesh saw equally hot summers, rows of beer bottles lined our fridge door,and i picked up the habit of drinking water from bottles just as men do with beer bottles, putting my lips pursed to the mouth and drinking bottoms-up, the habit still persists today.
Friends do matter, with some you can let caution to the wind, get tripsy, say whatever comes to mind... with the correct companion even water becomes alcohol... and alcohol hits directly to your nervous system, i have had some enjoyable company and moments i tend to remember, but i have completely forgotten what I was drinking.
so... as I was saying, keeping in mind the topic not deviating from it entirely.... not the drink but the drama surrounding the glass,the music, the tinkling lights, the actual act of pouring, dropping the ice, looking at the familiar faces , feeling the joy and saying "cheers" gives me a high at the first sip itself... after that its only C2H5OH and H2O

What a life!!!

Hi everyone! I am Priyanka. My dad calls me by my pet name "Pinka". I am 10 yrs old. I live in among tea trees in the hills. My dad is manager in a tea garden. It is situated in the hilly region overlooking a river. Our house is situated among the tea plantation. I wake up every morning early and look out of the verandah at the green sea of tea leaves. Not far are the blue mountains dotting the horizon. My dad calls me for the morning milk and biscuits. He soaks the biscuits in milk and puts it in my mouth.I like it that way. He on the other hand takes a steaming cup of cocoa. We then go for a walk. I am a stay-at-home child and my father is my teacher. He does not believe in schools. I do not go to school. I am home-taught. So, I stick with my father whenever I can so that I can gather knowledge. I have immense thirst for knowledge.I am a nature's child. I love to run after butterflies fluttering in the early morning sun.

It's time for breakfast. Doughnuts for me. Not far off is a bakery. Minnie anty runs the bakery. She makes fabulously fluffy cakes and pasties. I press my nose on the glass pane to see rows and rows of goodies, scones, jam tarts, cucumber sandwiches, ham pie. Minnie anty always puts out a plate for me whenever we go there. Dad buys a pound of freshly baked bread and we saunter off.
After breakfast my dad puts on his manager's coat. It is actually a khaki raincoat. Along with he carries an umbrella. He takes me along too. He tells me nature is a great teacher, better than reading books. A light drizzle of rain has started. It rains here very often almost all the time. I do not need a raincoat or umbrella, i told you earlier i am nature's child. My dad also prefers it that way. He allows me to run off occasionally chasing a rabbit into it's burrow.

My dad meets the workers daily. He meets their demands and gives them their daily wages. Some times a labourer's child may be sick, he takes the child to the hospital. I do not like the hospital. I stay back at the tea garden cafeteria. All my weekdays i have my lunch in the cafeteria. It's a hot bowl of chicken and vegetables stew lightly cooked with aromatic spices and a good portion of mashed potatoes with a dullop of butter on top. Post-lunch i may snooze off on the sofa. I am totally at home here. Nobody scolds me, not a word of rebuke. Eventually dad comes back and today's work is done. It's time to go home.

In the living room dad lights up the fireplace. Now is the time to formally study. I bring down all the books and pencils and read and draw and sketch and colour. Sometimes I spill colour on the floor and roll on it too just for fun. Lucy, the maid cleans it all up. She makes me a hot bath and bathes me with soap and scrub. Wrapping a towel on my wet hair i tip toe into the bedroom to surprise dad. The house is so peaceful with smells of dinner cooking on the stove. Its baked beans today in rich tomato sauce to be had with the fresh bread off anty Minnie's bakery. I heard dad speaking on the phone. I strained my ears to catch the conversation. It seems mom is coming back, i strain some more and I think mom is bringing a new brother too. Now, i feel excited... a friend, a brother, for me to play with, a new companion, how lovely will it be?I jump out at my dad and we are so happy.

Today we are going to bring mom back from my granny's home. Dad is driving the car and I am sitting in the front seat. He hums a tune and rolls down the windows. I feel so happy... what else can I do but put my head out of the window and start wagging my tail... woof! woof!

Social life

There were too many memories pinning him down to this place. This small town which he equally hated and loved. All the lanes and by-lanes he knew by heart. Even the street dogs were familiar. That playground where he first played ball. His mother used to sit on the playground bench chatting with other women or sometimes knitting away quietly while he played ball with Chaang.
Chaang was his first friend, not because they were of same age or went to the same school but because they both had flat noses. Whereas other boys had noses of all shapes and sizes, he and Chaang had no nose at all. They were both badly bullied for the flat noses. He sometimes stood on the stool to look at the mirror. His father and mother had good high noses even his newborn baby sister had a cute button nose but why he had a flat nose with only two holes as nostrils he could never understand. Chaang was chinese he knew his mother had once read him about chinese people but he was the only indian who had a chinese nose.
The dog barked, a small white dog was standing nearby watching him. It barked and wagged it's tail everyday. He and the dog were friends too. Everyday while returning from school he found the dog waiting beside the bin where he emptied his half eaten tiffin box. The dog had its feast every day. He watched the dog eat away his bread or cake or biscuits whatever his mother gave for tiffin. He never had any appetite for food,he never ate much but for reasons not known to him his belly was always huge with food. Every day he showed his big belly to his mother just to verify that he had completely eaten his tiffin.
The mango tree grew in height, but he never did. He had planted the sapling with his own hands. Watching it grow in awe he used to stand by its side matching both heights. The sapling grew into a shrub then to a tree but he remained small and stunted. Even Chaang who had no nose like him grew tall but he remained his tiny self.
Leaving aside his mother, the playground, the dog, the mango tree and Chaang, the hospital was his next favourite place, a place which he loved, he regularly visited, his social life centred around the hospital, it's smell, the bed whose head end could be raised or lowered, the other patients all tiny children like him with flat noses and big bellies, there were no bullies here only friendly doctors who examined his nose ear throat chest abdomen meticulously probing and gently stroking. His beloved object was the red coloured bag which hung from his bedside, the precious red fluid dripping slowly into his body. The fluid gave him energy and new vitality to his body and mind. Every visit to the hospital refreshed him like no other. It was the most enjoyable thing he did.He loved no other place more than the thalassemia children ward at the hospital.It was his social life.

These were the memories pinning him down to this place as he watched his coffin being slowly lowered in to the ground. He hated to leave behind his mother, the dog, the mango tree, Chaang.. and his Social life.

Coochbehar... heritage town of west bengal, India

On my recent short trip to Coochbehar, northern most district of west bengal, india, i couldn't decide which i liked better, the coochbehar palace or the madan mohan temple or the large 44"smart TV in our hotel room.... 😁😁😁 ha ha ha ha.... not joking at all my friends! On this trip i had the chance to watch TV that too straight from the bed. At home in my day to day life TV watching is a luxury which I can't afford. The remote is almost always in the hands of my teenage so or worse still my hubby. Both of them live in worlds totally alien than my own. So i don't watch TV at all. Whatever leisure time i get i remain in the solitude of my redmi note 4....so my friends, the simple act of just pushing in the pen drive and watching movies from a cosy distance lounging on the huge bed with pillows tucked under my head was nirvana in itself 😇. My poor eyes now having reached that age where they cannot decide which to choose myopia (far sight) or presbyopia (near sight)... not having to hold a cell phone while watching movies in it and torturing the poor ciliary muscles (small muscles in the eyeball) every now and then adjusting the focus..... gave my throbbing headache a big relief.

In between watching TV and looking out of the window at the lashing rain.. i did visit the Coochbehar Rajbari(palace). Modelled after The Buckingham Palace it was built by Raja Nripendra Narayan. As in all palaces it did have ornately crafted ceilings, domes and pillars. All the rooms surrounded a lovely courtyard in which seasonal flowers were grown by the women folks. The descendants of the raja, king still live scattered in and around coochbehar and colloquially termed as "rajbanshis". The palace was handed over to the government in 1950.Now its a museum informative and compact not too taxing on the leg muscles. The overlooking garden is magnificent too.

We spent the whole evening at Madan Mohan Mandir, a temple for lord krishna, bansuri-wala, murlidhar... radha was absent from his side, a beautiful golden statute of the child-god adorned the temple.The temple complex as it could be so called was big enough for a huge crowd well maintained by a trust. As the evening slipped into night, the whole town it seemed had gathered there,offering sweets to the god, children scattered here and there playing , some just strolling up and down the adjoining garden. The garden was clean, well lighted along with flowering shrubs were some huge trees bearing fruits. We too strolled in the garden bare-foot along with numerous other citizens of coochbehar.A newlywed couple had just come to seek blessings, the bride and the groom complete in bridal finery. It was a full moon night, the rain had cooled the breeze, there was hushed silence all around, the burning incense sweetened the air, the very old head  priest then started the aarti... all of a sudden the atheist in me took cover and i stood folded hands bowing my head in reverence 🙏🙏

a small tribute to vuut er raja of gupi gayen bagha bayen

ভুত

নামের আমি নামের তুমি
নাম দিয়ে চেনা যায়
কালো ফোকলা মুসকো লোকটার
"ভুত "নামেই পরিচয়

বাবু হাঁকেন, কিরে ব্যাটা!
নাম কি তোর কি করবি কাম
কড়োজোরে লোক টা বলে
আজ্ঞে বাবু "ভুত" আমার নাম

ভুত চতুর্দশী তে জন্ম আমার
পাঁচ টা বনের পর
মা এর অনেক আশা ছিল
ছেলে আলো করবে ঘর

গ্রাম এর মানুষ একে একে
বলে দেখি দেখি
কালো ভুত চেহারা দেখে
সবাই বললে একি!

ছোট ইস্কুলে বড় মাস্টার
বেজায় ভুত এর ভয়
ছেলেরা ডাকে "ভুত ভুত"
শুনে ভীরমি খায়

চড়ক মেলায় আমি বাবু
গাইলাম যখন গান
গাঁয়ের মোড়ল তাড়ালো মেরে
দুর হ! ভুত এর কেত্তন

আপনি বাবু দয়া করে যদি
দেন কিছু আমায় কাজ
ভুত এর খাটনি খাটবো আমি
শপথ নিলাম আজ

তারপর.... কেটে যায় দিন
মাস গড়িয়ে বছর কুড়ি
লোকে বলে ওই যায় ভুত-বাবু
আর ওই হল ভুতের বাড়ি

বাবু নাকি মরার আগে
দলিল করে দান
"ভুত" আমার পুত
সবাই কে বলে যান

বাগান বাড়ি দিঘী পেয়ে
"ভুত" এখন রাজা
গুপী বাঘা কে বর দিয়ে
পাচ্ছে হেভি মজা

দয়া মায়া সেবা পরিশ্রম
মুস্কিল আসান হয়
আর কখনো কোরো নাকো
"ভুত " এর ভয়

সমাপ্ত

The Stone God

Atreyi starts the engine of the car. The car a battered old ambassador was what she was driving now adays. Just 3 days back she had scratched the side view mirror of Atul's brand new baleno with the wall of the garage. Atul was besides himself with fury, lectured her a full half hour on her clumsy driving. Snatching away the keys he had shouted "That old ambassador is suitable for you!"
It was everyday's work. Atreyi drove her twins to school. Atul has just got transferred to this village-town as BDO. The english medium school was a 15km drive along the highway. Atul was keen on bringing the brand new baleno along while Atreyi knew the simple villagers had not seen anything like this before.
Each 10yr old was so different from the other as two sides of the coin, her son occupied the front seat with a command at the dashboard music player belting out his favourite songs one after the other while his sister younger by 8 mins was doing maths occupying the large back seat with all her books and copies strewn.
Leaving them cocooned in their own safe worlds Atreyi looked out of the window outside. Fields of paddy,yellow mustard flowers and green patches of vegetables splashed a riot of colour both sides of the road. The highway itself was free and smooth that early,only the ambassador was giving out loud distress calls now and then, muttering softly she sweared, aghhh... god... when suddenly just beside a big tree her eye catches a glimpse of red. She could just make out a large stone painted deep vermillion, a small stick with a red flag sticking out, a donation box and an offering of flowers and fruits. Some bystanders were accumulated as well. Amazed at the sight, if this is today yesterday the stone was not there.
On the backward journey Atreyi stopped the car and observed the scenario closely. The red stone, the flag, the flowers were decorated to make it look like a shrine, village women were kneeling down offering prayers, men were throwing coins.
Atreyi had never seen such drama which she was witness to for the next few days. The crowd of people was increasing day by day, some cars and autos stopped for passengers to disembark at the shrine. Another day she saw a priest holding puja at the site with pomp and splendour, prasad was distributed to the travellers. Atreyi herself was thoroughly enjoying the real life drama surrounding the "Stone God". She smiled at the thought that someday a temple might be erected there. She looked protectively at her children and couldn't help wondering what world will they step in to when they finally step out of the car. That silly battered ambassador pricked her eyes though. Casting a sly glance at the stone god she wished for her wish to come true.
That evening while she and Atul sat for dinner, the twins in their room, she was toying with her thoughts about the "Stone God" when Atul spoke out "Tomorrow I am taking the ambassador, its a small village beside the highway, i have to inaugurate a temple there, the new car will be unsuitable."

Next morning Atreyi and the gods above (if there is any) chuckled as she sped past the temple of the "Stone God" in the brand new baleno.

Meherangarh fort, Rajasthan, India

As I climbed the steps of Meherangarh fort, I heard their melodious tune. Meherangarh fort situated in the desert town of Jodhpur, Rajasthan, India. As I climbed the steps to explore the fort along with the other tourists their music reverberating all around. I had climbed to the top. I mistook the sound as recorded music but no sound boxes came into my view. The folk rajasthani lore stayed with me throughout the tour. Then finally I saw them.The man was playing the sarangi while the woman sang. It was this song and music which I had been hearing all along. The sound strikes the wall, gets reflected and reaches right upto the top. I could only stop and marvel at the amalgamation of the present with the past, the craftsmanship of the architecture and the mesmerising voice which needs no loudspeaker. The same ancient technology which the rajahs used to enjoy music was heard by me to the terrace top while the artisans sang below. Only the clear blue skies and the stone walls of Meherangarh fort remained witness to the passage of time.

a small village named Krishnaganj beside the river Churni somewhere in bengal, India

কৃষ্ণগঞ্জ গ্রাম টির নাম

চূর্ণী নদীর পাড়ে
চূর্ণী নদীর জল টলমল

বৃষ্টি যখন নামে
বৃষ্টি এল ঝমঝমিয়ে

বাঁশের মাথার ওপর
বাঁশের বনে ঘাপটি মেরে

ভাই বোন দুটি বিভোর
ভাই এর মাথায় ঝাঁকড়া চুল

চোখ দুটো টানা টানা
চোখের মণি বোন সে আগলে

পাখির একটি ছানা
পাখিরা সব চুপচাপ

সন্ধ্যা নামে ঝুপঝাপ
সন্ধ্যা বাতি তুলসী তলায়

মা ডেকেছে ঘরে ফিরে আয়
মা যে তাদের গাঁয়ের বধু

কৃষ্ণগঞ্জ গ্রামের শুধু
কৃষ্ণগঞ্জ গ্রাম টির নাম........

a short story

The "other" number.
He pulled one last drag on the cigarette, the final embers burnt brightly before dying out. With one swift flick of the  finger he flung the butt away. The aftertaste was bitter but satisfying. It was difficult getting these damn cigarettes now with the general bandh extending to its 60th day. He could very well remember that day when the morcha supporters bombed the CM. He had huddled the scared ministers into the safe room and then from there to the safety of Bagdogra Airport the next day. He could still recollect their horrified faces. Who would have thought that such an august gathering of all ministers of CM s cabinet would be bombed upon. Now the bandh is one fish bone badly impacted. The hills are dark and soundless. People hungry and unhappy cut off from the rest of the world. He looked pitifully at the snubbed out cigarette. Who knows when the next batch of cigarettes will arrive.
Rubbing his hands to beat out the chill he looked at the lake below. The lake shimmered like liquid silver. Today like every afternoon, at the end of the hard days work, he had jogged up to the monastery. From its terrace the view of the mirrik lake awed him everyday afresh.
He has opted for this outpost, the peaceful serene beauty of this quaint lake town had forever attracted him. His DSP had obliged, everyone was fond of him, he was capable and hardworking and his aryan good looks had created in-roads into the hard hearts of his superiors.
For once he glanced at his watch. It was late evening. By now his 3 yr old son would be back from the park where he goes every day with his grandfather. He visualised his wife preparing dinner in the kitchen and hoped she too would be looking at the clock. Wasting no more time he again jogged uphill leaving the monastery behind he reached the church. The church was quiet and desolate, its gardens full of blooms. He plucked some over-ripe squash fruit hanging from creepers on the wall playfully juggling them he found his favourite bench and sat down. The caretaker knew him from his frequent visits. This sipahi came to this height every day to catch the mobile network. The caretaker carefully slipped away.
He had not been home for 45 days now. He brought out his brand new note 4 and dialled his home number. After 3 attempts it did connect. His 6 yr old daughter was the first to speak today, "Baba...!!!" then his father, "Babu...!!!". His wife spoke less mostly about money and salary and school fees and, "Maach er daam khub bereche..!!!". The family lived 500 kms away from where he was. His wife never liked the mountains, She had arthritis. Five minutes into the phone call and he already needed another cigarette. He searched his pockets in vain but then.... his fingers touched the"other" phone... the "other" phone was small, unorthodox, hidden away safely.... looking up at the new rose moon he dialled the "other" number....

THE   END

bengali poem

টাট্টু মহারাজ

যখন আমি ছোট্ট ছিলাম
                   বয়স সবে পাঁচ
আমার ছিল কাঠের ঘোড়া
                         টাট্টু মহারাজ

রং ছিল তার সবুজ হলুদ
           কান দুটি তার লাল
কালো রঙের ডোরাকাটা
               ছিল পীঠের ছাল

সকাল হতেই টাট্টু চেপে
            দিতুম আমি দৌড়
আকাশ বাতাস মুখে মেখে
          ছাড়াই গলির মোড়

দুধের গেলাস হাতে নিয়ে
            সকাল হতে সাঁঝ
মা ছুটতো পেছন পেছন
         ছেড়ে দিয়ে কাজ

ভাত খাব না চানে যাব না
         চলত আমার বায়না
টাট্টু সাথে খেলব খেলা
         কোনো দেরি যে সয়না

হঠাৎ করে বাদলা দিনে
          মনে পড়ছে আজ
কোথায় আছে কেমন আছে
    আমার টাট্টু মহারাজ

Tusi-the wild bird

The closest i could get to wildlife was this parrot which i had named "Tusi".Yes it was a feminine name even though i could not decipher its gender.On one sudden whim of passion i had bought the parrot for 200 rupees. The vendor was carrying about 10-12 such birds each in a very small cage. Later, from a bird-watcher friend i learnt those parrots were babies  snatched from their nests, caged and sold as such. Sometimes their flight feathers were clipped to disable flying. Had i known this earlier i would never had bought it in the first place. Anyway i did buy Tusi that day, thinking it as a pet, adorable birdie, well taken care of, who will whistle or talk someday, a companion to my then 7-yr old son.Someday a human-bird relationship will blossom. 

Over the next one year span that Tusi remained with me, it did not grow in size, did not utter one single word, did not whistle at all  and all my attempts at taming the parrot was lost. So I had to label it as "Tusi-the wild bird" All she did was screech and claw and beak the cage.I bathed her, fed her, cleaned her cage. Every morning i checked on her fearing death or disease. She never was sick but also never felt at home and I could feel that the parrot did not like us at all. 

It was then that i thought of releasing her. I gave her three coaching lessons in flying. Closing all windows and door the first time i opened the cage she jumped and hopped here and there, on the second day she flew around the room then perched on the wall. The final day i had kept the cage in the open verandah, she hoped first on the cage itself, gave it a final jolt with her beak and flew out into the open, circled once and then flew to the nearby tree. I frequently used my son's toy binoculars to search Tusi but the wild parrot never came back and i found solace in the thought that she is happily screeching, free and flying somewhere in the open blue sky. 

far from the madding crowd

It was 4 pm when we reached Chilapata, a quaint town nestled among forests somewhat near the indo-bhutan border in the newly formed alipurduar district, west bengal, india.
The sun was about to set, the wind blowing softly, rustling the leaves. It was early spring with a cold nip in the air. The resort offered an excellent view of the nearby forest.
Branches of the tall trees swayed in the wind, the rain clouds were gathering. The horizon had changed colour from yellowish orange to crimson. The setting sun, the dark clouds in the backdrop of the forest canopy unfolded an ethereal beauty in front of our eyes.
Suddenly from the tree tops they started calling - the peacocks, they started calling from far from near sometimes alone sometimes in unison. Tearing through the approaching darkness their shrill calls reverberated in the air.
The rains had started. The ground which had a long dry spell gulped up the moisture emanating that wet mossy smell of grass.
We.... opened all our senses every pore of our body, soaking up the pristine natural beauty of Chilapata forest.

Travelogue

Travelogue the best place to be when travelling i find is the... airport, yes i found that out in our recent trip to rajasthan when we had to change planes with a waiting time of 4/5 hours the moment you enter an airport the world changes, a totally air-conditioned atmosphere, clean air to breathe in, what a relief from air pollution outside clean walls greet you, no paan spits, thank god for that and no urination marks either.. disgusting!! the floors are smooth and even, no ups and downs, even i could do a clean catwalk on my heels👠 this time at delhi airport i experienced another pleasure that of not walking but moving ahead... ya guys a moving metallic roadstrip just like elevators 🛣️ great place to exercise though, miles and miles of space at least metro cities have large airports... in the small airports too you could window shop for ever and burn all those calories, even though the place is large you won't get lost, how much ever you wander you are sure to come back.. thus happened with my son, i could leave him wandering around and did not become tense, he usually always came back to us... becoz there are no exits 😀 comming back to shops.. O M G.. what exuberant shops they have, delhi airport, i saw shops of all foreign brands... i could only gaze and slither away... not having the courage even to ask the price... but i did show an air of dignity, as if i am not interested!!! 😀 the food plaza... awesome... i think i saw the freshest fruits and vegetables there than anywhere, though a tad costly, but you don't get to taste Hagen daz ice-cream everyday, one scoop was 200 bucks and with gst added up to 250... but i will remember the creamy concoction for years to come 😊 the restrooms 🚽 were good, with good staff all the time, not like those at shopping malls nowadays i find the staff decking themselves up on the mirrors, putting on lipstick and invariably 3 out of 4 toilet doors will be closed 😠 drinking water portals are everywhere, along with mobile changing counters... free Wi-Fi too 📲 Airports are a treat for sore eyes like mine, i always get to see sick men... coming at me coughing or vomiting all unclean and messy.. but here even the security constables are so damn handsome, the airport ground staff so well groomed and dressed.. uff... i could forever go on looking at them... 😜 so, all in all i find the airport as the best place to travel to ✈️🛫🛬🛩️🚁

nature

chilapata forest... jeep safari