The Axe Oil Story

While travelling across the pink and glittering river in a ferry that usually got me late, I arrived surprisingly on time to the fortress of the ‘Eurean Wall’. For everyone wondering what the Eurean Wall is – it is a menacingly ominous structure that stands 500 meters into the sea, as a bastion of purity and healing against a forever blue-grey sky. What it fails to let one know is the fact that in the process of creating the elixir that soothes man of fears, aches and grotesque images from the past, it drives the lives of many of its workers into misery, mine included.

So as I entered these cursed gates, a crow with a red ribbon around its neck called out to me from behind. It wailed in pain as a result of archery in the neighborhood, but I had no choice except to get to my workplace. I just dropped a small jute bag with a small bottle in it, beside the crow hoping it would apply itself. Despite the dreary image that superseded the languorous walls on the outside, the insides of this fortress resembled the future from the future unseen – luxurious, royal and cushioned. The torture was of the mind. They used the principle of feeding the goat well before slaughtering it. My mind, like most minds, often tended to slander the Employers. And in this castle of a work place libel of any kind was simply unacceptable. They took out long processions against those who even stirred any mind activity against the establishment.

Subsequently, I switched on my digital Skytop( Floating laptop)which got me acquainted with the sales and accounts that spiraled upwards as every day passed. The monopoly of the Axe Oil company was a strong motivating force for all employees whether they liked it or not. All of us employees were given glass casings of this Axe Oil that rested comfortably on our tables as a reminder of our curtailed and shackled lives.

Suddenly, shrieking like a sharp whistle, a small cleaner-boy was being dragged out and was followed by a trail of blood that dripped from his foot. It seemed as though the force at the top of the hierarchy had struck down the free mind. I looked at the calendar and realized it was that day of the week when the sacrifice of the unscrupulous was given to the Crocodile Arena. Here, crocodiles didn’t eat you or bite you. In fact they were blind. But the sheer size and number of the well-fed crocodiles trampled you in a frenzied stampede thereby crushing you previously upheld untrammelled spirit. This was the nature of the ill-treatment.

The mailbox on my screen flashed in bold “Get with it!” in reference to the consignments that were pending and snapped me out of the delirium. The Eurean Wall was known to manufacture the greatest and finest by-product of Eucalyptus oil which they branded the ‘Axe Oil’. This meant that the work load was harder to accomplish than scaling the highest peaks. I decided to get with it when right outside my window, that occupied the frontal portion of my desk, crowds started to gather. It was the death call for that poor boy that got dragged out. I panicked and my chair slipped almost dropping my head on the table to the side. Just managing balance I peered from above the glass window to see the words in the Crocodile Arena light up in blue and red. It read “TO THE UNSCRUPULOUS, MERCY WILL NOT BE SHOWN.”

I then saw the entire process of the boy being crumpled and pulverized organ by organ which forced a sweat drop from my forehead to my chest. There was nothing anyone could do at this point but gulp. Everyone in my cabin just gingerly whispered, “I knew he was cursing boss for asking him to polish the oil’s bottle by an extra millimeter. Stupid guy’s thoughts would’ve been caught on the radar”. As soon as the boy saw his last breaths everyone immediately opened their respective bottles on their tables and whiffed away - as though the oil would heal their minds and spirits and contain their exuberant hearts whilst they still worked there. And everything else resumed as it was, with a pleasant smile! Just then across my window, the red-ribbon crow fluttered away into the horizon.

Hot Springs on a river bank! Enticing much?

The Temple

Possessed dance forms

The Akloli river lit by an effulgence glow

Possessed dance forms Part 2

Knowledgable kids in the hot spring

Meditative old man praying for absolution

Descending chain of mountains

Landmark to get off 

A tortiose that was once alive

Take a bow

Rajasthani craftwork resting by the river

Have you been tempted by the hot springs that dot the continent of Africa or the Brazilian region of the South Americas? Un-fret that frown on your face as there is a desi and unimagined hot spring right in your neighborhood, on the outskirts of Mumbai(Thane), that exists in the exiled and religious town of Vajreshwari. So take a bold dip into the cubicles of the hot springs the locals call ‘Kund’ and wait till a current passes through your body - Not a malignant one; just a simple eddy of heat that will rejuvenate your body until its gooseflesh erupts.

Now, this small town was built as homage to Shree Vajreshwari Yogini Devi who inhabited the place in the 18th century. If you are waiting to be thrilled by the spirit of Navaratri or Gudi Padwa, you must visit this temple to see the palanquin taking the idol out as a procession that might make for a memory larger than life. Or if you like snazzy Hindi songs, you’ll exit satiated on the orchestra nights that happen on the premises of the temple. If not, you could still be a decent human and pay tribute to the Hindu tradition as the inner stone that laces the temple walls resound a surreal heart-rending wave of serenity.

What’s most exciting is the road trip. The bumpy and narrow roads will throw you onto the streets of ‘Gangs of Wasseypur’ and threaten you to feel like a gangster. Or you may end up shrieking like a monkey due to the irregular ride. Regardless, you can take a bus from Vasai station or better yet, ride a bike from wherever you wish. The only reason a bike is recommended is due to the ride back – At Night. The descending chains of mountains that foreground the dimly-lit, star-studded sky make for a splendid picture. There’s nothing better than riding on a road where you can see no signs of civilization or even lights. Just the skies and you! Or your cowardly partner could keep cursing you for the perils he claims to foresee.

Anyway, before you reach Varjreshwari - where the temple glows at night and the hot springs spew medicinal sulphur water, you must try to catch the ridiculously hilarious advertising that packs all billboards at Vasai station. You can guarantee yourself a laugh. From there, it will cost you just Rs.30 by bus and one heck of a view that screams catholic architecture all the way until Vajreshwari.

On having reached there, if you get lucky you may see a procession walking into the temple with men dancing in a twisted and possessed fashion. Before you get ideas, the guy usually is possessed. A lady, his mother supposedly, whips him until they reach the idol structure of the devi. This is when a premises cleaner, Ankush Rao, will willingly wear a genial smile while being your un-appointed guide to the temple.

Once you’ve done with your visits to the temple and the hot springs, you can amble across to the river on whose banks is nuzzled the Tansa resort. Here, if you are looking for authentic Maharashtrian food, the Poha(Rs. 30) and Vada Pav(Rs.15) will present itself like a wet dream. If you don’t like Maharastrian food, then you’ll have to starve until you reach home. Either ways, you can stay there at extremely affordable rates, so much so that your pocket will look up and smile at you in relief. Happy cheap holidaying!

Beware: No street lights. So carry a torch for post sunset adventures into the wild.

Photo Couresy: Sid Vasani. 

Music blushes with the hash

Parov Stelar

Zedd

Chet Faker

Nico Pusch

DISCLAIMER: Unobtrusively explicit content.

Lonavala on a unexpected saturday night is fresher and more soul-lifting than you think it is - With two special ingredients.

Everyone complains of going to Lonavala more number of times than a porn star partaking in the unpardonable sin mentioned in the bible. But if you are a true Mumbaikar (or belong to any other genome) you will know the respite that cool wind ruffling your hair can bring while driving on an oblivion-headed Expressway. I will tell you how! And it will thereby unhang your forlorn heads that are doused in sadness of not being able to plan a trip out of this riddled city for the simple sake of breathing in some oxygen.

Dump all that ails you in the backyard of your miniscule Bombay house and fling yourself into a car that will assure you the unfelt and unseen vistas, served from the deli, which is a mish-mash of music and hash -I call it  'Musash'. Begin at about 8 pm. I know advocating getting stoned can land me in a not so desirable place, like jail or the orthodox parent’s bad books, but who cares right. I was once told by a very wise and old man whose travails and escapades into the unsavory lanes of Europe precede him, “Try smoking up. It will show you a light that this world will not dare to otherwise.”  Digging into my knowledge of drugs, I quizzed him innocently “Doesn’t that happen with acid?” to which he responded “Acid shows you the inner lining of the Pandora’s Box, beta”. So take an imaginary thread and tie your three friends together whom you think will share similar tastes in music and scenery and will regale in the Hashy fumes.

Then once you’ve done that, fill in your fuel and carry a skimpy jacket for something I will reveal in just a while. Hit the road. But before you do that try getting these songs that will enchant the night to a sparkling glow and soothe you from the rubbish strewn across your garbage city. Unfurl your mind and let in the magic, the smoke and the songs. Something that defined my trip was ‘Around the World’ by Nico Pusch and Chris Valentino. You don’t need to be an avid follower of the electro sounds. A mild intoxication will create niches in your soul to accept the beauty this song spills from every note. The artist whispers mellifluous sounds into your ears making you believe that there is a life after. So let go sometimes. And see the world if the world calls out your name with a longing. Even if it doesn’t, still go. It’s more promising and worthy to look at than any human.

Emeron and Fox's ‘Nightmares’ will open your eyes to the levels of darkness the night holds, especially when it’s dotted with so many mysterious stars. Then there are the barbaric sounds of electro-swing rendered by Parov Stelar. For those who don’t know what electro swing is, me included until this night, is a genre that has a bouncy ring to it above and beyond the basic EDM rhythm. This artist dangles songs like ‘Mojo Radio’, ‘Matilda’ and ‘Love’ over your head when the mood sets in. Remember to not get swayed . Keep your eyes on the road. The drive requires you there. Let your ears do that dancing.

Once you’ve reached Lonavala in about a couple of hours, especially when you’ve literally hovered over the road, you’ll see pickled fog swerving from one end of your windshield to the other. You can grab a bite at Sunny’s Dhaba or Tony’s Dhaba – Tony’s is a better option. You know why? You’ll trip your lungs off when you see the emus glaring into your sedated eyes. Their eyes are usually so red that you think they’re stoned. Stay away from them though. Creepy and oddly-built creatures they are. You never know, they may even be the litter of some UFO. Just saying! Take out that earlier mentioned jacket and put in on your head. Wrap it around and experience the emu’s eye’s widening. That should be sufficient entertainment for the night. Or you might just get scared. Contain it. Don’t shriek. They’re really elegant birds. They don’t appreciate unruly behavior. You can then saunter towards the cots and lie below the blue-black sky until the music on your car’s system hits ‘Hallelujah’ by Jeff Buckley which will mark the end of your swift and blissful journey. Drive back in peace. Don’t speak much. Let the air flow in and stimulate the introspection, like me with this trivial piece, before you get triggered to create something. The next thing you know your back in Bombay the next morning flushed with vitality.

More songs to dump onto your iPod/Phone/mp3 player:

• ·         Clarity - Zedd
• ·         Zocalo – Armin Van Burren
• ·         No Diggity – Chet Faker
• ·         Cherleston Buterfly – Parov Stelat
• ·         Nothing But You – Armin Van Burren

Stairway to Malang

The Stairway

Beer at your own will

In case you feel you're lost

The passageway

The Grave

Goats doing the journey with you

Get a perspective of the height

Embrace the altitude

You always have replenishers

With creepy and disheveled men pleading for hand-shakes to divine intervention bestowed from a supreme force, this Dargah is pitched on dazzling extremes of a wide spectrum.

As a sign of exception to the hindu-muslim disparity and for those whose faith is in encrusted in the fissures of the earth, this magnificent tomb of Hazrat Haji Malang Sha Sarkar Rahymattullha Taala Alhy, more popularly christened as Haji Malag, is nothing short of auspicious and thereby has its doors open to people of all religious outlooks. People usually do pilgrimages. People walk for days and days But here, only people with unabashed grit and determination make it to the top most point of the peak of the mountain where lay the grave(Mazaar) of Haji Malang.

This Dargah is located on the top of hill and is about a whopping 789 m above sea level. Why the number is astonishing is not because of its size or some superstition attached to it. Simply because that’s the distance you will walk to pay homage to the revered sitting atop the hill. But not to fret as reinforcements keep happening on the way at multiple stops. You can consume the most refreshing drink, the Nimbu Paani, or the newly added drink to most menus, Glucon-D which seems to rejuvenate not only your physical strength but also gives you the mental impetus.

So to begin this trip you can hop onto any train that will lead you to Kalyan Station on the outskirts of Mumbai. Well, you can take a bus also but why would you want to do that since trains are easily available through all times of the year and are way cheaper. Now, once you’ve got to the station you might run the risk of getting a tad fleeced by the rickshah wallas as they claim the destination is an obscure land. You could now think of using the bus which will also take approximately the same time and will be less harsh on the wallet.

So there you are riding through the dusty town of Kalyan until the gates of the brown-weeded landscapes with well-etched svelte roads welcome you. The plateau region banked on either sides of the road will seem like a desert with its raw charm having absorbed your eye balls onto the peculiar vegetation that adorn the place. After an hour of the journey you would have arrived at the foot of the hills. Ideally this expedition is best considered during the wee hours of the morning or the languorous hours of the night to witness the glimmer and shimmer of the moonlight on the rocky landscape and to avoid profuse loss of bodily salts. Notwithstanding, this still makes for a perfect picture to a rural locale with stereotypical cows carrying hay in their mouth.

Then, you begin your ascent onto the hill where you might contradictorily find a wine shop. You obviously don’t consume any of it. It’s meant for the locals who stay there. Yes, people actually stay in dingy huts on the half-cooked road leading to the top that seem supremely intriguing. This is where you might encounter men asking you to take their blessings by shaking their hands. Advisable would be to ignore and move on unless you’re really looking for some drama. The people selling sugarcane juice may also be somewhat unfriendly. But be patient. You need them for the refreshments. Now, you would have reached the first set of three graves after a grueling climb of 1 and half hours. The largest and grandest one of them is of Haji Malang. You can take your footwear off, take a quick wash at the ablution center and enter the tomb. Suddenly the moment of epiphany – The entire journey gets forgotten and a wave of serenity hits you hard in the belly and you almost freeze. You can’t even remember how long it took you to climb the hill. You will just want to bask in the spirit of the holy. Drinking some water at the tomb, you can witness the chandelier sprinkling its straggling golden light in all directions on the grave and the Arabic inscriptions engraved on the walls. The feeling is simply ecstatic and lends a new definition to soothing.

So untying yourself from the benevolent energy in the Dargah when you make your exit, you might feel a bit weak in the knees while walking down. You might just be in love. Or maybe not! But you surely can grab a bite at the small veg and non-veg restaurant beside the pond that is situated behind the tomb. Also, don’t bother asking people where the dustbin is. You’ll get a puzzled look from the locals expecting you to throw it off the hill. So find a dustbin or keep remnants in your bags.

Be There: The only reason you should visit the place is the sheer peace-value attached to it. The grand fragrance that wafts through the Dargah might just convulse you to collapse.

Beware: Don’t encourage the locals and give in to their whimsies. Keep your belongings safe and walk on the stone path. Walking off it might be easy on your thighs but not on your life. You might fall off the cliff. But then again that’s the adventure. It’s a trek at the end of the day. So gear up with shoes and track pants preferably.

Reside: You can even stay overnight in the compound of the Dargah which is lain with cool marble. This will give you a chance to see the entire city from a summit in the moonlight.

Closest from: Kalyan station, Mumbai.

Photo Courtesy: Siddharth Vasani.

A Behanding in Spokane: Review

The second-hand quest…

Man goes in search of many things. And he often strives to achieve it perhaps till the end of his time. But this time, the search is quaint in its own way. This man being referred to tries to find his missing hand which gets chopped off 17 years ago under the railway tracks by a bunch of hillbillys. Yes, playwright Martin Macdonagh has done it again in "A Behanding in Spokane" with his abstract sense of plot development and his delineated yet idiosyncratic characters.

Carmichael (Ali Fazal) is the protagonist whose hand is being sought after. Hacked off hand, so to speak; Under the train; On the railway tracks. As has been iterated umpteen times in the play. Anyway, he figures through sources that a black/colored man Toby (Abhishek Saha) and his low IQ girlfriend Marilyn (Shweta Tripathi) have found his hand and agrees to reward them with a couple of 100 bucks at his hotel room. Something presumable on Toby’s mind would’ve been “Let’s give him a hand, in this situation”, or “A hand in need is a hand indeed”. Or maybe not! However, due to stifling times in their relationship Toby and Marilyn bring a black man’s hand accidentally. This evidently irks Carmichael off and he extorts information from them about his real hand at gun point. Enter, the nosy hotel receptionist Mervyn (Prabal Panjabi). His unfamiliar love for the Gibbon since he was a child and loose wiring in the head just give room for more unpredictable twists. Apparently he just wanted to be brave.

Either ways, performances by Ali Fazal, most convincing old, frustrated man, and Abhishek Saha( barring the impersonation of the black man accent – a poor imitation of Chris Tucker from ‘Rush Hour’) were stellar. Their timing and nuances triggered the precise amount of humor. Prabal Panjabi and Shweta Tripathi had their moments of glory but went a tad over the top. The subtle situation of fear creeping in was thus lost as a result. Although, director Kashin Shetty has now another reason to boast about Martin Macdonagh being his idol, and his story telling, crisply packed into 100 minutes, stands evidence to that. But just like the hand, Shetty could’ve hacked off most of the expletives as it didn’t benefit anything in anyway. Neither did it bring humor to the table, nor did it elicit fear. It was simply misleading.

All in all, a taut production with a vague and futile plot, but bolstered with exceptional performances as saving grace. It’s that time of the year when you can say the actors propelled the play in a random direction which ostensibly looked like a forward one. Will Carmichael find his missing hand even though it won’t serve him any purpose, once he’s found it? Not like it can be stitched on. Or used to draw (as said by Mervyn)! So watch it to find out the grim answers it holds.

Rating: 3/5