snoring stories

My daughter in her early twenties   had been with us for a month now and was planning to leave back to her studies in India in a couple of days .

 she wanted to sleep with both of us together last night for a change before she left us

A small yearning to be the small girl again and be with both her dad and mum together

 we too loved it

For the last several days mother and daughter had left me alone in the master bedroom  to brood

And so we chatted away and laughed a lot and slowly sleep took us over

just like those old days

After a small quick nap the bright light switched on woke me up

I saw Sruthi my daughter going back to the next room !

Me …..What happened molle ( dear ) …… ?

Sruthi…..Am, going back to my room to sleep …

Me ….Why ?

Sruthi… nothing ,   can’t sleep here !

Me …..Oh and why so ?

Sruthi….Acha ( Dad )       look   one can manage to sleep with one person snoring as it was for me the last one month but two of you together and in different tones and pitches is too much to bear !

You know as soon as I managed to grunt, shout, squeak, shake or even tweet the nose of my mother and she stopped, you would start where she left !

Do You have a relay system or what?

How united you are in this ?

Made for each other indeed !

I smiled sheepishly in the dark as she put out the light and walked off.





The funny thing about snoring is it is something that is never known by the snorer .

I always prided myself as one who never snored though I had a suspicion I sort of made blubbery sounds from my lips as I fell asleep

that didn’t count as real snoring does it ?

In my dreamy state it was like a soothing lullaby and it just heralded me to the bliss of somnia



Of course many of us snore  with different styles of our own

And sleep medicine is a great specilaity these days where effective measures reduce snoring and prevent something known as sleep apnea where one tends to stop breathing momentarily  !

Dangerous

We had no such pathological snoring of this kind
just some harmless non poisonous  rumbling you see

So I thought till yesterday !!



Talking about snoring We once had a guest who came to our house in Cochin and that was ages back when we had this small clinic attached to the house 

 on that particular occasion we had plenty of relatives visiting from the native village for a function occupying different rooms in the house .

This said gentleman insisted that he was happy to lie on the floor of the hall and he would sleep slowly watching TV late into midnight as this  was his regular habit  and so we agreed to his whim but warned him  of the presence of patients coming to the ante room clinic near the hall in the morning .

He guffawed and said ….. I would be up and about by  dawn as we are from the village you know and we hardly miss the sunrise there

I still don’t remember whether he meant sunset or sunrise  for he was deep asleep at 8.30 am

and out of our graciousness to a guest we didn’t shake him or pour a bucket of water on him!

Though I was sorely tempted to do so

Here was somebody who could sleep through a nuclear explosion with a smile on his face

Well I had no issues, let him sleep but couldn’t he have done it quietly

He seemed to have been a record holder in the Olympics in the snoring category as we came to know from the others who were traitorous enough not to have warned us of this knowledge .

The sounds that emanated that day amongst the coughs and sneezes of our patients was of high decibels

It ranged in several rare ragas

Wild and tame animals were mimicked

one minute we would be in the deep jungle as wild pigs rampaged amongst snorting crocodiles elephants bellowed while lions road  mice squeaked and ducks quacked

Resool pookuty the sound engineer who got an Oscar would have been delighted to get those rare sounds on record for posterity

The patients sniggered and some asked me

Doctor where did you get this special piece of art from?

Well he is a great artist, with great difficulty we had brought him from a far land because we were told that the vibrations that emanate from his snore  are part of a special vasthusasthra and does wonders to our fortunes !   ....I countered

And thus when the last patient had smiled away our man rose with a guttural farewell to his snoring paradise and squeaked his eyes open

Chaya chaya ( Tea Tea ) he bellowed

That was the most delicous sound to our ears that day .

Mohabati Sulaimani Ustaad Hotel

Any act of creativity with soul  stands out from others
so does the malayalam film USTAAD HOTEL  .

such films raise the hope for the future of mollywood

There is a scene in the movie  where  the veteran actor Thilakan    hands over a glass of  tea  he made to his grandson Sulfikar the hero of the film ,who is awed by its taste and enquires about it .

 Thilakan replies that  it is so because it was  a  sulaimani full of  mohabbat .
 ( a tea laced with love ) .

 The film is really a sulaimani with loads of mohabbat .

Dulqar Salman  son of the superstar Mamooty ( a tigers son cannot be a cat ) is a Swiss educated chef who loves being one .

Director Anwar Rasheed had made a good choice in him fro the film .

Dulqars  father the multicrore Dubai based business man  Siddique has his ambitons on investing in a five star hotel to be run by his son in India not as a chef but as a CEO .

To Siddique  cooking had always been  a stigma having grown up under a father who owned a decriept hotel by the beach in Kozhikode ( Calicut )  and when he thought he had finally left those sordid memories behind he begets a son who wants to be another  cook !

His infuriation and his new found wife (having been a widower for many years ) drives his son to his grandfather .

Thilakan the quintisential Asan or master chef makes his grandson go through the works from being a cleaner boy to an errand boy and slowly making him work his way up to being the chef ,
he also gets his grandson  a job in the nearby five star hotel and slowly Dulqar comes to realise that even the Biriyani which the beach 5 star hotel is famous for comes from Ustaad hotel  sold at astronomical prices there and that the owners were eyeing the property planning to drive off the old man from the dream of his life .

Dulqar throws away his job and with the help of his lady love Nitya Menon and some friends does a makeover to the Ustaad hotel ,there are so many problems like interference by the food dept and the media encouraged by the enemies which is all overcome and finally Dulqar and his dad come to understand  of what is true in life is what  is what is done with sincerity but by the time they lose the man who taught them this by living it .

The aromatic Biriyanis made in Ustaad hotel reminded me  of the famous Kayikan Biriyanis of Mattancherry Cochin which is also  well known for its mohabat .

films message I feel  is mohabat wins .........always...... yes it does ,in anything
 remember that !

an Ode to Independence

for every being his country is the best

to that person its  always a bit above the rest

after all is  it not  ones own nest  ?

its thoughts would ever fill ones chest

India  to me is a blessed place

full of excuisite  beauty and grace

with  a long history and a hoary past

its lands are spread out far and  vast

it has its tall and snowy peaks

its forests are filled with firs and teaks

its deserts are full of blowing  sands

and its blue  seas embraces its green lands 

it has multihued  languages  cultures and colurs

its subjects are immersed in several labours

but it has a string tying it  all together

like an umblical cord  its mother

A land with many varied thoughts

where   many paths to God are sought

a land filled with many wise sages

going back to the ancient ages .

a country which had been ravaged

conqured over  time  raped and savaged

for centuries  its wealth plundered

but with a  soul that  never surrendered

many came to its shores with greed
robbing it and letting it bleed
ruling it and damning its subjects
filling it with poverty abject

it had overcome all this to get its freedom
and from many little and big kingdoms
it was born an united country proud
to those men and women who brought this  our heads are always  bowed

to those valiant soldiers gaurding our borders
waiting for the enemy marauders
all we can do is to  salute and bow deep
for remember  thier watch makes us reap .

But there are many   enemies within us
the cunning and the conning powermongers
who  are no different from our invaders
they loot and cheat and sell our country like traders

in the name of freedom and democracy
they hold the reins of autocracy
 they play thier puppets and pull the strings
cutting and clipping our  thoughts and wings

they are clever in words cunning in deeds

they reap the spoils of thier seeds

and as our beloved country continues to bleed

our hearts wail and wait for  a change plead

is there a light at the edge of the tunnel

or are we doomed to fall in the funnel

what and where will we find that elusive  turn

before our dear  country succumbs to its burns

From sports to religon they meddle

and as we burn  they play the fiddle

these men and women who muddle

area dangerous and an unsolvable riddle

some  amongst them are men of virtue

but it seems like that  they are far and few

the harbringers of change are split

and thrown into deep and endless pits

and so the story goes on
sixty five years after we were born
eternal hope is the only solace
which we can blissfully embrace

India is too great to fall
for it has never done that at all
so the present devils too  will go one day
and only then   would  India shine with its golden rays

SPIRIT ...movie Review

The combination of Ranjith and Mohanlal should have been enough to raise the spirit of the malayalam movie Spirit ,but it really doesnt reach the nidus it was expected to .

For one it has  ,specially in the  second half a feebly docusocial lecture feel to it on  evils of drinking but if the intention was this then it would or rather should have made an impact .

After all Kerala is known for its drinking problem sic ,i mean the malaylaee is well known to drown his happiness or sadness in the vile liquid .

He needs no excuse to reach for the peg be it a marriage ,a death ,a good or a bad news 

A  hartal of course which is repeated regularly is more than an excuse for downing a few .

The liqour sales  touches  crores of rupees  during most festivals like Vishu and Onam and  the breaking news eagerly awaited  is of the district which made the maximum sales .

The line outside the beverage corporation is the only orderly line  in the whole state !

As the akbari contractor an ilk known by thier  dress and demanour to be an oily garishly dressed  alec with the right contacts at the wrong places laughs his way to the banks ,many familes go bankrupt as thier bread winner rolls in the brew  reducing  him to a slave to the habit . 

The film brilliantly portrays one such family that of Manian the plumber who most of the time is lost in the vapours of liqour clouding his faculties and goes around hitting his wife and children and generally being a destructive force ,there are large number of Manians in Kerala today and the Government never bothers about the ills that thier liqour policy does to the common man whom they are supposed to protect  as they count the largesse coming out of its sales and are preoccupied with distributing the spoils to thier near and dear .

Another class too is depcited that of the social drinking elite who are intellectulas stimulated by Bacchus in thier creative instincts or money raking business people or dhoti clad politicians who need the right chemistry for thie machiavellian machinations and vote garnering .

many of them are smug in thier confidence that  they know when to stop and a couple of pegs a day does good for them .

some amongst them cannot stop it when they want and go the Manian way albiet in thier own environment

Having worked in an IMA run deadiction centre as a volunteer medical officer I know the trials and tribulations an addict goes through to get out of his habit which is easier said than done .

Mohanlal as ever has no failings in his histrionics and Ranjith delivers  his crispy dialogues ,Thilakan the veteran is  wasted as a druken bum ,while  Lena does a brilliant protrayal of a smart commissoner of police

It is Nandu who really excels as Manian .

The picture hits the  malayalee and his habit where it should  in his solar plexus and tells him he is not the great intellectual he thinks while he down his peg on the rocks but just a fool lost in his habit

  I hope it also makes him come down from his Oh I know all attitude

Beirut Break

Beirut Break

Beirut the very  name conjures a Mediterranean haven of pleasure and Leisure

Dusky  evenings behind frosted windows  tall  clinking glasses ,Dark coffee in quaint cups  to be gulped on checkered  tables in  pavement cafes ,lazy hookahs their smokes twisting into the roofs ,the horizon with   distant mountains ,the aquamarine sea  , the drifting ships .the nights filled with  dance and song ,

After all was not  Beirut  known as the Paris of the East .

The Lebanese people are fun loving  ,good looking  ,large hearted people ,and to them life is full of fun and warmth .

 It is sad that such people should have been subjected to decades of unrest and civil war ,forced to live in a country split into two ,with snipers firing from the rooftops with bombs blasting and mines bursting .

The green line separated Beirut during  those hardy days of the civil war  into two .

 It was after the nineties when it all ended and their President Rafik Harirri brought some peace to the wounded land ,

Tragedy overtook again in 2005 when a bomb took away this handsome man from the streets in the very centre of Beirut ,

There is a sculpted memorial  in the very spot of the assassination with a bullet ridden bombed out empty building  in its back ground .

 Incidentally the place I stayed the well-known hotel Phoenicia was just facing this spot and I gazed at it from my balcony .

The history of Lebanon unfolded in my eyes there as I reminisced what I had seen from the visit to the well-kept National museum ,

Lebanon has a rich history dating back to the prehistoric,

conquered and ruled over the ages by the sea faring Phoenicians ,Byzantines ,The Romans ,The Greeks ,and later the Ottomans ,and in the present century  the French to  rule them

It was in 1947 that Lebanon was free to its own but the sixties brought unrest and the long civil war from which  the country is slowly waking up to its former glory .

  Religions meshed with cultures leaving deep imprints in the people

Now there is peace and coexistence

 The marks of history are seen in the landscape be it the Roman baaths or the Balbak ruins the magnificent St Georges Cathedral where the monks hid their treasures  in the basement for long during the wars

The Blue mosque its cobalt dome shining  the skyline as Beirut’s  landmark gazing into the yellow staccato baroque European style downtown buildings .

As I strolled along the turquoise  sea lining cornice into this enclosed area  I entered into a world which was unlike any .

The cobbled streets were neat flower lined  the pavements lined with boisterous coffee shops ,youngsters lively and colourful gazing at the upmarket malls fashion shows in ramps, the  live TV shows being recorded ,with children blowing bubbles in the air ,amongst all this all this a detective walked with a huge police dog leashed in a chain which went around sniffing for hidden bombs .he stopped often to pat children on their heads and many went on to caress the big dog’s head .

There were soldiers armed to the teeth gazing at the children playing smiling benevolently but ready to rise in any emergency,

The peace was palpable and there was a sense of calm and happiness everywhere.

I could see a retro wedding car awaiting the bride and groom to come out of the church accompanied by elegant guests.

Almost straight out of a scene from Godfather the Hollywood flick

Beirut is a small city, Lebanon has many other lovely places to visit too and places where there were snowy hills very close to the city but I had a very short stay.

i took an yellow cab to the museum which cost me 15 $ (roughly 1500 Lebanese pounds ) American dollars are accepted everywhere ,public transport is not much to talk about of course one could share taxis or vans which work out cheaper ,best option is to walk as generally climate is reasonably good and walking gives you the pulse of any place .

the Museum is divided into sections of Lebanese history from the prehistoric times to now ,many artefacts statues  line the small but well-kept museum ,nearby is the St Georges cathedral .

I went from here to Hamra the well-known shopping street ,this looked like the Brigade road in Bangalore or Jan path in N Delhi full of shops and restaurants good for people watching of course

 I did just that from a corner cafe as i munched into a crunchy sandwich .

I strolled along the American university hospital to reach the cornice ,I even found a Tamil worker on the way and stopped to talk to him for a while .

The cornice was quite as it was late afternoon but for a few fishing enthusiasts and their long poles

The Yatch club had a good collection of stylish yatches

Finally i reached my hotel to a well-earned rest .

Evening took me to downtown and its wonders and that night all delegates were taken for dinner in a lovely sea side restaurant and we bit into delicious sea food to gentle lapping of waves with salty winds ruffling our hair .

 

 The next evening too we went to a small exclusive restaurant dimly lit serving authentic Lebanese cuisine to the accompaniment of a  very interactive singer with accompaniments ,he made all of us get into the mood of the evening  and this was followed by a mini skirted female singer who was also good in her job .

Though I have taken a lot of the wholesome healthy Lebanese food in the UAE the food here was definitely more tasty and authentic as everything was fresh and tangy .

 After the next day’s meeting I had to return by the night flight

Beirut made an indelible impression on me

 

I bid farewell to the merry city of Beirut with its  happy good people promising to come back another day .

Ferrari ki Sawari

once in a while we get good wholesome movies

Ferrai Ki sawari raised no such expectations when we saw it on a lazy Sunday forenoon

The plush seats of Bawadi mall cineplex in Al ain was literally empty but for another family of four .

I prepared myself for a quite nap expecting a run of the mill Hindi fare

within minutes of its start the movie made me sit upright and I stayed that way till it ended while i laughed cried sighed and smiled happily

I haven't seen such a feel good movie for a long time
Fared as a comedy it was one of those nice class films which could no ,should be seen with the family .

let me synopse it for you
Russy is a nice square parsi widower with a smart little cricket player as his only son

Russys dad an old cricketer who had been cheated of his worth by his friend who would rise to become the country cricketing boss lives his life as a grumpy and complaining grandfather

.He often shows his anger to the sport and his grandsons passion on it by taking on his poor son .
The story behind his rancor is so beautifully told by Russy to his son as a bedtime story making us weep shamelessly .

The crux of the plot is the need for money to send Russys son to the Lords cricket ground England for a training for which he is selected ,Russy being a lowly government clerk has no ways of making the money

and then comes a local politician minister goonda who wants to celebrate his goonda future politician idiot sons wedding in his koliwada slums with a Ferrai to ride on instead of the conventional horse for e baaand baaghe



like any big fat indian wedding the situations that follow plunge us into rip roaring laughter with the antics of the goonda son and his don papa
the decision is made
the marriage arranger a fast talking middle aged Punjabi aunty has to procure a Ferrari by hook or crook ...money no issue you see

she happens to meet Russy who is looking for a loan she convinces him to go bring a Ferrari for at least an hour that he would be given the money he needed .

The red Ferrari is the one owned by the God of cricket himself .....Sachin Tendulkar

Russy is hardly the one to do anything of this sort but circumstances and his dire need makes him go to the Tendulkars exclusive flat

Destiny hands him the very keys of the red car which against his will he drives down to koliwada and the wedding

what follows is an orgy of fun and frolic as color and clamor fills the air

.It even had Vidya balan who does an amchi tamasha marathi dance with all her sinous sensousness for which the goondas and politicians dance firing shots in the air as the flower bedecked ferrari takes the groom for the ride

Russy pockets his comission and tries to return the car before anyone knows but then the confusion begins as he gets into messier situations

the duo of Sachins house servant and security man who is a big oaf with a centimeter brain makes us laugh our hearts out

finally an exiting climax of Russy searching for his lost son who by now knew what his dad was upto and left home sadly ,Russys plea in the national tv and finally getting him back




meanwhile the colony  residents and even the goondas put thier pennies together to send Russys son to the lords while Sachin has his car back in the garage never knowing of all the happenings


please dont miss this movie


xcroll down for Vidya Balans number

my Daughter Kyra

Dehradoon sounds so cool
 I can picture it only as a city full of chaffeur driven cars where the Richie Rich of the country come to pick up thier wards for the summer holidays from the Doon school .
One can also imagine it as  a city in the foothills of Mussoorie all cloudy  dewy and freezing the bones off .

But this summer
The Dehradoon platform I got out was anything but all this
it was the middle of june  summer was at its peak
it was hot and fuming


It seemed like t he whole of India was there in that platform that day !


Its teeming millions was truly represented  in the clamour and confusion  in all its kaledioscopic glory .


jostled and ribbed I pushed my way to the exit

Suddenly I heard the cry   "Thief , thief   "
A burly guy ran pushing  me out of the way
I collapsed clumsily  into a heep on thedirty floor hitting my forehead on the hot stone and all I could see were slippers and shoes .
Extricating myself from the mess and thanking my stars I wasnt mashed and melded  into the earth by the thronging janta .
I managed to catch a friendly  neigbourhood post  and stood  up .
  amusingly i found out  that I now had a small cute handbag with me 
where did this ome from ?

post fall reward huh !


oh no..oh no ...it all dawned on me now


The guy the thief   he  had left it with me in the confusion of his being tripped as he tried to escape .


and then I saw a tall lithe girl running past me still crying  "thief  thief stop him "
The thief jumped down into the rail track and climbed to the opposite platform and disappeared into the crowds .


"Hey hey " I called out to the girl
 "look the guy left this with me , is this yours ? "
She stopped in her tracks and looked back at me  at me irritated and angry .
the crowd just went on its way oblivous of all this


she stared at me
her wide eye lashes fluttered
should have been Lakme products doing all those wonders to those antennae !( this was retrospectively after I learnt it from her )


"Yaas that is it ....  ya  ya  yaas mine mine .....give it me "
She grabbed the purse from me checked it and then slowly turned to look at me this time with a small smile in her face .
luckily for me she didnt call me the thief !
I patted my bag and purse thank God nothing lost from me in the confusion .

" Oh Thanks I am Kyra you know , but for you I  would have lost all my money and then it would have spoilt my holiday "

 "Oh nice meeting you Kyra  ....so you are for a holiday where to ?"


"where else ? away from this furnace up into  the hills to my place my dad lives there
you know Colonel Mishra he retired from the Garhwal rifles
I am studying  in Stephens doing my III yr literature uncle "


 " oh nice.....me too planning to go up the hills just to escape the heat   , came to Delhi for a week and had  nothing to do for the weekend
what say we go up together ? " this from me .


she didnt answer immediately just  looked me up and down
by now we were in a quite part of the station


 "why not  ? we could do that " Kyra said ( probably I passed in her judegemnt as a harmless non poisonous species of  uncleji )


"sure  but Iam famished  lets have some breakfast first   "and so we walked into  a small snack bar and had some stuff


Kyra reminded me a lot of my daughter who was studying in a medical college  in Chennai and I grew fond of her as we talked .


Kyra too loved books and loved to write and was a good singer and with that she was all the more like my little one .




She sat next to me in the small bus as we trundled ahead and her chatter made the journey pleasant for me




she was a great one for make up techniques it seemed as she talked for hours on how she always found the right shades for her lipstick and her sun creams from Lakme and nothing else .
She was passionate about her brand
 oh  yes she was


all Greek and Latin to me


I thought maybe if  Lakme was so good  I should find out what my daughter is using ! and ask her to start using it !


after a long time of this i felt bored 
 I just wished Kyra woudl stop jabbering about make up and we would get to her dad and drown the scotch on rocks which would be waiting for me as smsd by her dad .


I drifted into sleep


after a a quick  nap and a small  dream where Kyras face merged with that of my daughter I was shaken awake roughly




 "uncle ji come out we have a small stop let us have a chai "




 "Kyra why dont you go  I will have my beauty sleep ...better than all those Lakme creams you talk on "




"no uncle lazy bones u are coming with me "


she even sounded like my dear little daughter .


I gave way and went out and we had a hot scalding red coloured chai from a perpetually  grinning Nepali .


Then took a few snaps of the snow on the slopes .


it was pleasantly cold now and the flowers were blooming bright .


so was our friendship .


it was like I knew kyra for years !


Back to the bus we munched on some pakoras and then after many hairpins wefinally  reached Mussorie


Colonel pappaji was waitng in the bus station and gave me a warm hug .
"thanks pal for bring my doll safe home "


not to mention   ....she is a pet no doubt


"All I have is her after her mummy left me years back , and she leaves me all alone here ! "


"Well he never listens when I tell him to come down to Delhi you know we have an apartment there too


Oh no he wont leave his hills and his scotch  " this from Kyra .


 "ha ha "

We spent the dusky evening near the fireplace


as the fire spluttered the flickering flames of the fireplace made patterns over the fair smooth face of Kyra reflecting those Lakme brilliances .




I felt warm from the smooth scotch and the love that flowed from this new daughter of mine Kyra and a new friend in her dad .
oh what  a lovely summer break  it proved to be

an Indian in Istanbul

Orhan Pamuk is Turkeys nobel prize winning writer  and a favourite of mine ,I have pored over many of his books specially the one on Istanbul where he describes his childhood and a great  part of his life living on the shores of Bhosporous in a luxury villa ,this had spurred an intrest in me to visit this exotic city and if possible meet Pamuk
( I did meet Ruskin Bond in Mussoorie India and chatted with him and even wrote a reasonably popular middle in the Indian express long back ) ,
Istanbul finally did happen but I heard Pamuk was living in  far away  U.S. of A ,

some other time my friend !

Istanbul ,Constantinople names that conjure magic and history  when heard
the only city where east meets west and melds into a wholesome treat
the gateway to Europe from Asia and vice versa
the city that straddles two continents
inhabitants can say Iam going to Asia for some shopping and return to Europe in an hour or live in Europe and go to school in Asia or even  better take a walk along the Bhosporous bridge and just reach another  continent .

Buses and trains ply from Istanbul to all major European cities and to London
(          Graham Greenes Stanbhoul Train   )

The Bhosposrus bridge crosses the Bhosporous strait that connects  Marmara sea and the Black sea .

The  picture postcardness of Istanbul is hard to beat , be it the towering spires or the domed roofs of the old city or its  modern skyscrapers , be it the cobbled narrow roads   the  trumbling trams ,buses or the metro .Green  flowered parks on sloping hills with cute cottages  the    multihued  inhabitants teeming the streets from every part of this world all  befitting a city like Istanbul .

History literally dripped from every where like succulent  juices from the shavarmas in street corner shops did .
The bricked mortar of walls left crumbling on the roadside ,
the Hagia sophia the 3rd century church one of the worlds oldest of its kind  standing tall and beautiful ,
the Blue moque with its six spires
 the Topkapi palace with its treasures of the Ottaman ,
 the Dolmbache palace in its European elegance .

Standing on a hill ( a tourist spot with a couple of restaurants  where one went for a night view of the city ) the cool wind ruffling my hair I could almost hearhorses clacking overwooden bridges
 armoured soldiers crawling over the steep walls of the forts
 tinkling  jewels and rustling gowns   in the harem of the sultan
the lapping waves of the  bhosporous  took me into the past   ,
 the crusaders the ottamans the Byzantines ,the conquering armies and  thier lusty war cries .

This city bent itself under this collective  history, glorious in its variety and all one needed  was imagination to get into a time machine .and  live  its pages .

The early Byzantines and Romans and later the Ottmans who ruled from the 14th century till 1923 all made this city alive .




Kamal Attaturk The founder president  was a dashing captain of the army
He brought Turkey its independence and created  the   secular republic it is today  ,
The airport is named after this reverred figure .

As I alighted from a  poorly  serviced Turkish Airlines business class early  in the morning ,                  bleary eyed and tired the airport stretched itself before me a bit large and confusing .

English wasnt a great  hit here as people just didnt know it and did not  bother to also .

but yours truly would not be so easily beaten ,

with only my camera as luggage
 ( wife was coming in next flight and I gave her the cargo )
I  managed to decipher  the metro station in the airport itself and after some keen observation found out all I had to do was to  put two Turkish liras into a vending machine to get a token which allowed me to enter into the metro till I got out !

then it became all easy

Getting down at the last stop Aksharay ( did not bother to change lines )  I   found out there was a modern tram again for 2 liras  which would  take me to the old city the famed  Sultan Ahmet area which was something like Fort Cochin in my place ,a tourist hub .

It was  drizzling mildly and was cool
walking was fun and I  did it biting into a fresh croissant worth one lira bought from a side stand vendor ,

my eyes grew wide as I gazed at the rounded domes and spires of the Hagia sophia and the  Blue mosque ,
walking into the small cobbled  streets I reached the Blue Tuana hotel booked by me online

It was small  but  cosy and homely
The German Turkish Maria who owned the place  welcomed  me and gave me a  room  with a railway line below
so at intervals I could see and feel the rumbling train .

Ater some rest I got back to the airport , by now an expert in metros and trams collecting my wife and the luggage ( not to be mentioned in the same breath .....oops )


we then got back to the Blue Tuana by cab .

The taxi driver was honest as he made a call from his mobile to the hotel  for the right and charged me just what the   meter said
 most cabs were like that though some do cheat .

   Later we went  to the Topkapi palace a repository of te Ottaman sultans costumes ,weapons and jewels   his     crowns and sceptres .
 Most of the suits and cloaks were huge and  made for giants
 I wondered   whether they were  meant for two  Sultans at a time till I  saw some paintings of some of the huge imperial figures .
Those days one ate with gusto ,enjoyed life and never bothered about fitness I presume
( should have born as an ottaman....... my paunch would have been an asset and  all  those lovely harems .....sigh sigh  )

strangely many of the good  items in the museum were from Indian shores either gifted by some mughal by marriage or aqquired by invasion !
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Topkap%C4%B1_Palace



The Hagia Sophia was our next place to visit
the 3rd century church one of the oldest of its kind  built by Emperor Constantine in 360 AD in Byzantine era was said  to have been buit in the very place of a prexisting pagan temple it was destroyed by man and nature several times and reconstructed  , it was fought for during the crusades finally converted into a mosque during Otaman reign and now turned into a museum in  the Turkish republic
It was overhelming and breathtakingly beautiful
 its insides had massive chandleiers illuminating its voluminous space and painitngs and latticed windows http://www.focusmm.com/civilization/hagia/welcome.htm

The  Blue mosque ( because of its blue tiles inside ) towered just opposite the Hagia sophia  almost resembling it but for the  six spires
 it was also known as the Sultan Ahmed mosque ,a chain gaurded its entrance so  that even the sultan coming on horseback to the mosque had to lower his imperial head before entering  the divine presence .

the ceramic blue tiles numbered more than 20000 there were chandelliers and caligraphied  Quranic qoutes the Mihrab was made of sculputred marble many of the lamps were covered with valuable jewels and gems philandered later http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sultan_Ahmed_Mosque

We then went on a double decker bus over the Bhosporous bridge up a hill to a scenic spot to view Istanbul at night ,tucking into hot soup as we dined in a restaurant looking down on the twinkling lights of this magical city feeling a dream come true .

morning saw us tucking into cottaged cheese and  biting into buttered toasts and buffy biscuits as we enjoyed the home made breakfast from the roof top of the Blue Tuana .
Encouraged by the warm hospitality of Maria our host

We then walked to the covered Grand bazar an oriental souk with multitudes of shops with thier many hued wares from upmarket leather coats to heaped spices the smells were as varied as the colours as we gobbled dono Kebabs ,and succculent Turkish sweets
 freshly baked cakes and croissants emanating a sweet fragrance to the streets as we joined the multitudes in expoloring the bylanes of Istanbul .

   Returning to the  Blue Tuana we   checked out and moved into our new place of stay
 the Swissotel Bhosporous ,
its five star elegance was breathtaking but could never come upto the homeliness of our dear Blue Tuana .

Evening saw us in Takshim the main shopping area of the city
the whole road was lined with huge shops and   designer outlets and was a live fashion ramp crowded and full of life

It exhausted us and we went to a heritage Turkish restaurant
 luckily I could get some rice and yoghurt and this proved a great match with chicken kebabs ...
Thayirsadam in Turkey ( curd rice in Turkey ) should have been a good name for this post .


The T urkish Dervish dance in the Hodgapasha place a few miles away was our next  plan        
 we reached there that  rainy night by a not too friendly and a bit too   expensive cab .

Every Turkish Lira was equal to two Dirhams and something near 28 Indian Rupees .


The dervish itself is  a spiritual experience
linked to sufi thoughts of reaching the ultimate by losing oneself ,
Photography was strictly banned and silence was demanded during the perfomance
The five dervishes revolved in thier own axis and around a small circle in the middle of the hall
ancient chants filled the air and it was a   surreal experience to watch the intent face of the dancers with thier eyes closed and thier minds far away in some unknown world of deep happiness .

one could enter the nothingness by losing oneself by   the repeated revolving
this makes them focus and jettison themselves like rockets out into the stratosphere of spiritual release
something like mediatation or losing oneslf in music .
this was indeed an unique experience .

The meet which  I   came for occupied the days

The next evening we went for a dinner cruise in the Bhospurous where Turkish dancers in national costumes regaled us with energetic and romantic numbers .
there was also a couple of scinitllating belly dances where the sinous movements of the belles  were    in tune with the lapping waves of the Bhosporous .

The night  continued   as long legged Russian passengers threw themselves into the floor for a rumbusto perfomance
A middle aged passenger and an Elvis Presley look alike threw himself to Presley style contortions ,an older man beat rocking and rolling with relentless gusto
As the whole  ship was dancing we quitely moved into the upper deck and cloistered by the cool spray gazed  into the dark waters and the twinking lights of this wonderful city
the favourite place of my favourite author Pamuk

Finally I thought ,     I made it here and
 one day I shall meet you too



Hoşçakalın. (Hosh cha kaluhn) ..that is goodbye in Turkish for you .