We were in the company of close friends, veterans of the area, who wanted this Indian couple to experience the Great American Outdoors, while they could drown in Tequila around the bonfire, under a chilly desert moon. The stocky and cheerful American computational neuroscientist who knows the terrain like the back of his hand, and the lanky South African computer scientist, his comrade in arms, made up the duo who masterminded the trip. My husband and I just left things to the experts. Our long-weekend camping trip in the summer of 2010 to the Death Valley National Park also traversed the ghost town of Bodie, the picturesque little town of Bridgeport -- the gateway to the desert, the mysterious Lake Mono and her curious tuftas, setting up camp in the remote but spectacular Saline Valley, lazing around in the three lovely natural hot springs -- gorgeous oases in the middle of the desert, and returning to Oakland via the Yosemite National Park, with lots of adventure thrown in for good measure.

It was our second day there. We had met a host of colorful personalities at the hot springs, which being an oasis in the desert attracted a smattering of people who would amble in like animals to a watering hole in the African savannah. Not far from the entrance were some signposts. One read 'Bare Crossing' in bold black letters, while the other said 'Clothing Optional'. If you were wearing a swimsuit, you were deemed overdressed. To add to the excitement, an ultra-light plane landed right on the flat desert, in the absence of an airstrip. A couple stepped out and announced that they had 'swung by' for an impromptu picnic. After a day of delightful lazing in the most 'developed' of the hot springs, we decided to head back to base camp, which had been set up near the farthest of the hot springs and one that attracted a surprising number of bats. And thankfully no throngs of people. Somewhere towards the middle of this route between the two hot springs, stood a gnarled old man by an easel and surrounded by an assortment of paintings, tubes of paint, brushes of varying sizes, all kinds of art paraphernalia, and some camping odds and ends. The back of his dusty SUV was propped open, with a curious arrangement of grab-n-go art stuff. We decided to stop and chat, primarily because of the paintings haphazardly strewn all around the car, almost arranging themselves in a natural gallery with the sublime lighting of the setting sun to boot. The fact that he was the first fully-dressed person we had seen in more than a day might have also had something to do with it.

He was facing the sun, or rather, he was facing the easel which in turn had the scenery he was trying to capture as backdrop with the intrusive sun encroaching upon it. He was wearing a dirty full-sleeve shirt that must have once been a healthy white, loose knee-length work pants in khakhi, and an apron streaked with dull fingerprints - vestiges of occasional hand-wiping. The apron's current condition made it almost impossible to guess the original color of the cloth. Comfortable suede shoes, a rather tame cowboy hat that would have been of scant protection in the sun especially if it were at its vicious best, round-rimmed spectacles, and a broad welcoming grin completed the outfit. It was the sort of quiet smile that somehow managed to remind you of a sigh of relief. It was also the kind of benign smile one would wear when opening the door to expected guests. He put down his palette and brush, after a few strokes of some shade of yellow. The others wandered off to look at the landscape and figure out which portion of it was captured in which painting of his.


He walked up to me at my vantage point of watching the artist at work, occasionally turning to see some of his paintings, and a view of the vanishing sun straight ahead, wiping his grimy hands on a well-used piece of cloth. He shook my hands, introduced himself, and handed me his business card - the fleeting thought that I might be a potential customer seemed to call for the nicety. He seemed to be in a chatty mood and after a brief round of introductions started reminiscing. Surprisingly, he had started painting rather late in life, when he was past the age of sixty. Before he retired, he had been working either in a law firm or was dabbling in finance - I do not quite remember which. His second wife had been an artist and introduced him to oil on canvas. She was a lot younger than him and taught him many things, art included. When they separated, he somehow drifted towards the medium and started focusing on landscapes. He started coming to the Death Valley, enjoying the solitude and inspired by the terrain. The play of shadows, the minute variations in colors, and capturing the surreal landscape were challenges that had him addicted, a drug that had him visit again and again. Year after year. The harsh environment and the scorching sun beating down actually helped him focus.  Was it not boring to come to the same place each time? He insisted that it was not, that the land was dynamic, and to capture its mood and essence was quite a challenge. He also visited other interesting areas but preferred the valley for its quiet and solitude. He also enjoyed coming to the Death Valley for another reason - it helped him improve his skills in his other hobby, tracking. He had attended some classes on tracking wildlife at the University and he liked honing it here. Pug marks, scat, scents, sounds, feathers, marking, and miscellaneous spoor. All clues and hints to fathom, discern, and unravel the wild mysteries in the desert trails. It is quite fascinating what the land reveals and what it hides. Another challenge, this time an analytical process as opposed to his first love of the creative.


Why was he here? Was it the solitude, an escape from banality? A solitude in a stark environment that seemingly helps one get through the pain of loneliness in a city. A solitude that is a balm to loneliness and assuages it just enough to return to the hordes. Maybe it was that reflection that helped him open up to a stranger ...

What was it that made me want to stop and chat with him? Maybe it was how out-of-place he was, like a fish out of water -- an artist, alone, in a rugged and demanding land that looks deceptively lifeless. Maybe it was the picture of him creating something with a smile and hum, a visible joy that was not lost in translation. Maybe it was the obscure way in which he stood out and yet blended with the landscape, how unobtrusive yet obvious he was. Maybe it was the irony of a luxurious creative pursuit against the backdrop of a desolate world. Maybe it was his almost arrogant fearlessness in standing there alone against the forces of nature, all the while tracing them ... Maybe it was all that and more.





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Thanks to Expedia and Indiblogger for finally inspiring me to sit down and write.

I'm on a break from research, of a particular kind. From abstract, logical math and computer science. From writing papers and listening to lectures on algorithms to solve every problem in the world. From picking out pure math talks by (formerly) Israeli academics, and evangelizing Linux and anything FOSS-y. From programming, technical writing, and copy-editing gargantuan (and boring) books on programming for major publishing houses. From attending geek conferences, hackathons, and tutorials (as both presenter and learner). From being an RA to an utter [insert profanity] of a professor. From slogging over assignments on complexity theory and fretting over tests involving shortest paths and spanning trees. From churning out papers and sending them to conferences. From being fascinated by game theory but wanting to jump to applied CS. From the sneers of CS theorists, who think that anyone else doing anything else has the brain of a teenager from the dark ages. From tearing my hair over all kinds of things, and having an upset stomach before every exam, conference talk, and presentation!

I'm instead exploring my creative side. Not intentionally, but serendipitously. Spontaneously and intuitively - how apt, me thinks! It started with music. With some time on my hands (finally!), having abandoned grad school (possibly temporarily) to get a life, work on my marriage (long distance simply did not work; I was stupid to think it would!) and take stock of my transitioning interest in a field far flung from my studies and research till then, and having long wanted to learn to play the guitar, I grabbed the first opportunity that presented itself. I'm still learning, but find the learning process to be unlike any other musical training I've received. I'll reserve the "Why?" for another post; just suffice to say that the teacher is excellent, and even just randomly strumming on the guitar sounds good (unlike say a violin or the flute - a beginner trying random sounds in these offers a cacophonous hell!). Additionally, my partner's exploits, focus, and methods, are fun and inspiring.

Alongside music started other pursuits that I had always wanted to spend time doing but always took the back-burner - birdwatching and photography. Where I live had an important role to play where this was concerned. IIT Bombay is a haven for birdwatching, and I managed to get good guidance and plenty of opportunity to pursue this more actively. Encouragement and support, including setting-up "equipment", was provided by my partner and parents. Wildlife photography entails a lot of expensive gadgets - DSLRs, lenses of good quality and range, and other paraphernalia cost a small fortune. Talk about expensive interests/obsessions! And, now my birdwatching is no longer restricted to the campus; we're going farther and farther every month ... :)

The break has also provided me with plenty of opportunity to travel, explore, take part in adventure sports, play indoor and outdoor games, write, cook & bake, catch up on my reading list, and what not. The latest in a series of things I've always wanted to do or have not done in a long while, or have never had the time to indulge in is : Art.

When in Madras on a small holiday and to attend a friend's engagement, I found an empty board of canvas that my budding artist of a cousin in his teens had to spare. A casual enquiry led to him agreeing to "tutor" me; we have come a full circle - I remember teaching him to color and paint when he was a toddler :) IMO, he is something of a prodigy where art is concerned - never joining contests, but turning to art whenever he feels like doing "something", ever since a kid, and barely a teen now.

Here's the progression:

Day 1:







Day 2:









Day 3:









For an oil painting, I didn't spend too much time on it and it was a relatively uncomplicated piece to work on. I liked working on something in a focused manner without jumping tabs and windows, and managing to finish an oil painting in under a week. While bringing it to Mumbai, I had to carry it in a plastic case since it wasn't dry as yet, and was asked by many people if it was a real "kachua" :) The painting created a flutter in the Chennai airport security area, with all the guards passing it around for inspection, amidst much oohing and aahing. Random people's appreciation is rather encouraging, especially since I'm a beginner.

Very importantly, I'm busy as ever - but in a nice way. An idle mind is indeed the devil's workshop. I'm comfortable doing these things, and happy. I'm not always burnt out, high strung, or stressed out, like I used to be. I'd be ready to delve into what I've decided to pursue in a little while - almost there already.

I'm happy.

I remember reading this lovely book about a man whose quest was to follow the course of the monsoon in India. Chasing the Monsoon by Alexander Frater. He starts in Kerala at the advent of the monsoon and "chases" it just short of the Seven Sisters (the North-East of India, for those of you weak on sobriquets). This was a few years ago, by which time I had developed a plethora of "rainy-day fantasies". Some of them have come true and some others, repeatedly so. Sit by the window sill, either at a table near the window or on a bed suitably arranged (this of course requires appropriate foresight when getting the house furnished, but that's another tale), leaning against a big bolster (if applicable to the seating), sipping deliciously warm lemon tea or cocoa (this was before my obsession with herbal teas of all consistencies and colors), and reading a book. Nothing even comes close to this feeling. This fantasy would of course get better - simply intersperse the reading with moments of thoughtfulness (or thoughtlessness, as the case may be), staring into the rain as though it were the object of your doctoral thesis, and not to forget absentmindedly biting into crisp, hot pakoras. There would be variations of this fantasy - involving fireplaces and rugs and what not, for the curious amongst you, but we'll not be covering them just as yet. The mood and setting just perfect for some Simon&Garfunkel, vasantha or amruthavarshini. And, although I'm a great lover of science-fiction - this fantasy requires something more attuned to the situation. Like M&Bs (oh, c'mon - don't be judgemental!), Wodehouse, Gerald Durrell, Dave Barry or James Herriot. Terry Pratchett or Douglas Adams could be squeezed in perhaps, but trust me, nothing beats some romance/humor. And then, there are those books that do NOT depend on the weather (even if their titles mention something related) - no one would want to day-dream and sit around enjoying some atmospheric phenomenon after reading Everybody Loves a Good Drought. The reader has to be one cold person to not feel like doing something useful! I was inspired enough to seriously consider following P.Sainath's footsteps and pursue "his" kind of journalism ... but we're digressing and that's another rainy-day story (old-and-now-obsolete pun)!

Another fantasy that had caught my fancy was of course actually doing what Alexander Frater did, and follow his wet (pun unintended) trail. I will maybe do that. Sometime. I do have a knack for arriving at the worst possible weather in many places. Take the past year alone - I traveled by sleeper class train from Madras to Delhi during the height of summer, reached Bombay from Madras when the monsoon was bent on impressing me with "quantity", landed in Chicago in peak winter (when I'd never in my life seen sub-zero) and got back to Bombay in time for yet-another-monsoon. And oh, I also managed to visit Seattle during it's "rainy season" (so to speak) and Texas in summer. It has been very, very interesting and a lot of fun. I somehow don't remember spending too much time gazing out of glass panes, enjoying the snow. It was nice, especially walking during a snow-fall (read snow-FALL, not storm, or blizzard), covered from head to toe, holding hands with your loved one, listening to the almost silent falling of the flakes, and feeling them gently plop on your face ... but I somehow never got to watching the snow flakes, reading, and all that jazz. On the other hand, I truly don't enjoy walking (or doing anything even remotely outdoorsy) during a downpour. Nope, that's not for me. Especially in India. It quite nice walking in a drizzle, but not when it's raining cats-and-dogs. I remember how I'd have my raincoat on AND an umbrella to go anywhere - it's not as much fun as watching from the other side of a window! And driving/riding are not much better, but that's just because of the roads potholes.

I have also had a lot of fun in the rain. There's NOTHING like playing football when it's pouring. At least, that was the case for me at the age of 13. And, if you're in Bombay during the rains, it sacrilegious to not go on a monsoon trek. There are places in Bombay or minutes from it that are fantastic to hike/trek. Moreover, there are hundreds of forts that could be covered in these monsoon hikes, for those looking for a taste of history. There are an incredible number of trekking outfits that go weekend after weekend. For the more adventurous amongst you (yeah, that's you, the person enjoying adding buckets of water to torrential rain), I would recommend waterfall rappelling or abseiling. Here are a few photos of me, taken during a recent waterfall rappelling trip to a place near Bhivpuri, some 80 km from Mumbai.









The falls were about 60 ft high, and considered amongst the easier to rappel. It was my first time waterfall rappelling, although I have done some rock-climbing and certain other erm, drier-forms of rappelling. It was not really that easy and I slipped and dinged myself against the rocks more than once, until I realized the key was "technique, technique, technique". You need to be at right angles to the wall, legs wide, taking small steps backward with the help of ropes that involve use of both hands. And oh, tip backwards but don't go overboard (pun unintended) - you'll just topple backwards! AND, keep a distance between the feet - bring them close and you'll start oscillating like a pendulum! Instructions such as these are a mouthful for an amateur to handle, but after learning to pick myself up after my first, nasty fall, there was, the proverbial, no going back. But mind you, it was darn exhilarating. You can take your time going down (it's not as bad as it sounds!), and stop and relish the view from midair. As your near the bottom, the head-rush and adrenalin-high are unmistakeable. The safety measures were in place and at no point did I feel really vulnerable or precarious. Very, very importantly: they didn't make anyone sign a form saying "We're not responsible for accidental death or damage, blah, blah blah..." or something along those lines, and THAT was a huge relief. To start something after signing stuff like that IS scary and darn weird!

Again, I just meandered off! I started typing this listening to the rain, and decided to write (for a change, rather than read). There were also some personal storms raging, and simply sitting and writing brought about a relaxing lull. As you can now surmise, I like the rains. Over the years, I have also learnt to accept and enjoy summer and winter and monsoon, sunshine and snowflakes and everything in between. I guess that's the way it is - everyone will enjoy the rain, as long as they're not hurrying for an appointment, trying desperately to catch an auto, dressed just seconds ago in crisp white!

And, on that philosophical note ...

Some photos from our camping trip (near some fantastic hot springs) to Saline Valley, which is in the Death Valley National Park :










In Yosemite:




The Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco.

It had been snowing without break from Monday evening till today morning, with an estimated 10 inches of snow or so. It's white everywhere - winter wonderland! And, to top this, there was an earthquake starting in Chicago at 4 am today. (source)




This is the frozen Chicago river, taken last Sunday when I went downtown with a friend (the UIC campus is really close to downtown)!

New Jersey, and our first snow!

















With the dogs ...




Fondue party!










So, what else were we upto whilst there?

* Watch Avatar on 3D
* Watch District 9
* Went visiting on New Year's eve, and got together playing "Pictionary"
* Did a LOT of shopping (gearing up for winter in Chicago, etc.)
* Go play in the snow! Walking during a snowfall is so ... ethereal.
* Went to NYC again (this time to meet friends, visit the Museum of Natural History and Strand Books:)
* Hog on everything from chaat to pizza, and basically have a good time :)

We reached New Jersey on Dec 26th, spent more than a week (and a wonderful one at that) there, came to Chicago on Jan 4th, and Prabhu's now back in India.

A wonderful wedding-New Year gift to us (courtesy our friends S and A) was a trip to NYC - in particular checking out the Christmas windows at Macy's, Saks 5th Avenue etc., the Christmas tree at Rockefeller center, Times Square, dinner, the musical "The West Side Story" at Broadway, and returning home in a stretch limo! Some photos from that:




The gang in Manhattan, sans Prabhu (who took photos for me despite having his hands frozen stiff every so often - thank you! :)




Madison Square Garden!




The Empire State Building.




A Christmas window, at Macy's.




The Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center.




NBC




Times Square.




and ... lastly, Prabhu and I :)

Prabhu and I got married on November 22nd, 2009, and have had a lot of fun in the process, and before and after. It was rather eventful, exciting and whirlwind, and everyone including us had a gala time :)
And, surprisingly for someone who found the institution of marriage erm, strange (to say the least), and who didn't want to get married EVER, I'm rather happy and find it very enjoyable :)



The two of us, at the pre-wedding party.



A collage from the wedding party.

A few weeks ago I joined a bunch of friends and drove down to Aurangabad. With that as base, we visited the Ajanta, Ellora and Aurangabad caves, Bibi-ka-Maqbara, the Daulatabad Fort and a few other neat places around Aurangabad. It was a wonderful visit and I got to use my (then) new digital camera (I now have an SLR, courtesy a friend, to play with :), but was too swamped after that to put the pictures up.

I'll break the trip up and make posts based on the places visited. This one will have photos from/of the Ajanta caves.
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First glimpse of the caves. The entry to the region of the caves is so erm, unassuming (for want of a better adjective) that it's almost like stumbling on them!





This is the river Waghur, a mountain stream weaving its way through the ravine. It was supposedly the water source for the Buddhist monks based there.





Yours truly.




One of the most famous identifiers of the caves - the painting of Padmapani





Wall mural in Cave 1.





Multi-storey caves.





The Buddha meditating, multi-storey cave


( Click for more pics... )

We left Bombay at 12 midnight by bus and reached the base of the fort around 0600 hrs. After a quick breakfast of poha and chai, we started climbing. Raigarh is said to be one of the capitals of Chatrapati Shivaji's empire and is considered one of his important forts, among the many forts he built strewn across Maharashtra. There are about 1500 steps, but a lot more walking/hiking is also involved. There are no steps for checking out the various areas of the fort though and there is plenty of treacherous trekking in slippery areas that is done, especially during the monsoon.

The climb up:



















( Click here for more ... )
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Couldn't take a single pic when coming downhill. It was pouring and we had a tough but amazing time trekking down in the rain. Streams and waterfalls erupted seemingly everywhere from the rains - I slipped and fell and nearly got washed down with a waterfall once! :)