My chats with God

I talk to him. Everyday. As I drive to office, I strike up a casual conversation and remind him of things that he must help me with today. And what does he want help on. Imagine that. Haha. I was slightly ashamed in the beginning, because I am not religious. Never was. But I guess he doesn't mind. Because he isn't too religious either. The sad thing is that he doesn't talk back.
I remember that when I was about..say eight or ten, I used to play cowboy and robbers. Alone. In a thick brown Duckback raincoat and a cloth Stetsun. A hollow reed with a bread knife stuck in it at an angle was my Sten (cowboys never carried Stens I suppose, but soldiers in Commando comics did. So what the hell) which never ran out of bullets. I had my Colt 0.45 of course. A beautiful silver one whose springs were broken and later fixed with rubber bands. Oh I miss it as I speak. The pillows were horses and the bed was anything from a hill slope, to a river, to a meadow. I had a sidekick, a faithful horse and many bad guys to kill. We talked in Bengali and Commando English with sound effects. BAM. POW. UGH. KHATAKHAT KHATAKHAT. RATATATTAT. No problems. I don't think I have enjoyed myself, immersed myself in anything so thoroughly. Ever.
That, I feel now, was God playing along with me.

Kerala in May

I was in kerala in May. This is Kumarakom and clouds were just rolling in over Vembanand Lake. We were staying in the beautiful Kumarakom Sailing Club (courtesy a friend; thanks TC). I watched the best sunset of my life sipping Limca laced with Todi (not the other way round, I can’t bear the smell!) and munching masala prawns.



In the same trip we passed through Munnar. It's a picture postcard location with manicured tea

estates all around. But frankly, we stayed two days too much there and we were getting to become a little bored by then. Also, we were put up at Sterling Munnar, which is quite a sad property to stay in. The Mahindra property next door is much smarter. But the one I would recommend to anyone who appreciates quaintness, is the Planter's Club at Munnar.
With a golf link and a absolutely charming bar with mementos, trophies and photographs from early 1900s. The bar door has a intimidating notice preventing women from entering. It adds to the charm. Hat wall of plantation managers, pictures of MCC teams, planters with their fishing and game trophies- you have them all. The club has well appointed rooms for tourists too. It's closer to the Munnar town.
These strawberries were being sold in Munnar town from a box on a bicycle. The red looked rich and lovely. Tasted sour, as usual.

A toehold

March was my first visit of 2008 to Goa. The connection I felt planted a seed of a plan in my mind. Can I build a get away home here? Can it become a retirement project? Could there be, a longshot, even an earning opportunity from it? I was dreaming, as I so often do. I trawled the net and determinedly called up a real estate agent in Goa. Requirements and prices were discussed and he appeared to be on my wavelength too. I was to be in Goa again soon, what luck, and we fixed up a meeting. I sneaked away from what I was supposed to be doing in Goa and like lovers keeping a tryst, met up in a breezy cafe in Colva.

Nice meeting, but nothing came out of it. I came to know the going prices and practical difficulties of buying a land in Goa.

I came back to Bombay and expressed my longing in Facebook. An old friend saw the post and responded with a contact of an aquaintance. I called.

Listen, said our man in Goa, I have something. This is the price. Better hurry.

God be praised, I could just about afford it!

Things started snowballing from there on. I got in another interested friend and he pulled in some more and ...

To cut a long story short, avoiding the twist and turns and glossing over the desperate moments, 3 months down the line we bought the land. Small plots in a small village deep south of Goa.

I feel kind of contented.

So Rhonda Byrne is bang on with The Secret. If you are transmitting a desire and intent, it happens. Looking back, it has happened more than once with me. I just wrote it down for the

first time.

Goa. Like No Other.

I had no doubt myself that I was at work. Okay I do have a relaxed way of getting about it which puts everyone at ease, especially me, so I make it look easy, almost enviable. Goa adds to the illusion of enjoyment. We are at an important business meeting at Martin's Corner, Betalbatim. Now if it looks like a really chilled out place and the real big decision seems to be whether to order chilli beef fry with rum or that ethereal pomfret curry in white coconut gravy or both, you can blame it on the house management. Just focus on the work on your plate. Don't hurry. A dish is 20 minutes away. Beach, 5 minutes. This is Goa.