Accompany Me On My Journeys

When I got to Hyderabad I made a list of places and things I had to do before I finished my MA. Lately Shilparamam had been calling out to me from that list. It was Dussera, which is a festival where people are supposed to shop and a close friends Birthday, which gave my friends and me a good enough excuse. Not like we needed one but moving on. Shilpramam is a handicraft fair of sorts where people from different parts of the country put up stalls. I was hoping there would be a variety of food stalls but people came there only to shop apparently.

Entry fees: 25 for adults and 10 rupees for children.
Timings: 10.30a.m. to 8.30 p.m.

The place has a very earthy feel to it. The gate was interesting, it looks more like the entrance to a fort. I am not sure why there is a man on a horse on either side. Maybe Shilparamam was supposed to be something else before they turned it into a handicrafts village in 92.






As you enter there is a small temple, or that is atleast what we thought it was with statues of devotees dancing in amusing and strange poses. My demented and spontaneous friend decided she must pose like one of them and I clicked away.
 Below on the left was a beautiful statue of Ganpati blessing all the people who enter into the paradise called Shilparamam and decide to buy themselves and their family wonderful gifts. On the right is a chime on the gate that I took a fancy to, it just had such a rustic charm.

An ethnic shopper would go berserk like the way we did. And the biggest plus point was that although each of us had atleast three bags each we had still not burnt a hole in our wallets. Haggling can work wonders, if you know the tricks of the bargain trade. We had bought stoles, skirts, kurtas and there were sarees, bags,chappels, dress materials, jewellery and much much more. All the stuff like I mentioned earlier was ethnic to the roots, so people who like flashing brands, this is definitely not your deal.






As I walked around I lost my friends a number of times, rather we all lost each other. The various colours, fabrics, trinkets called out to us. Just walking by those colours can also be quite an experience as you hear various languages, tourists or even locals. There was a flirtatious Gopala, who was very eager to be photographed. He beckons and I already well amused go up to him and I am given a card and told to e-mail the picture. Check him out in the video below, he is such a star!



Check out:
Shilparamam's official site

Snuggled in a by-lane of Goa close to Calungute beach, easily unnoticed lies a heaven for book-lovers. A book store that serves coffee, sandwiches, eggs and wine from the mini-menu that comes to mind.

Literati's mini-menu

People who like their books categorised and alphabetically organised should stick to the Oxford store, not so far away.

Literati has the feel of a local library but much cosier, with a couch set and a stool perched beside the window facing a garden.

There are books on the couch, on the table in front of the couch, on the shelves, on the stool, a paradise for someone who likes the idea of being surrounded by books.

 Many might not go to Goa for a quiet time but many will agree that it is nothing but bliss to be lying on a bench  by the sun, sand and the sea, soaking into a book. The store on the other hand offers the view to a garden. The only depressing thing is that you cannot step out of the store to read the book in the garden or even on the steps. But you can enjoy your coffee and eggs outside reading a newspaper perhaps.
ps: Thanks to Satwik for telling me about Literati. God Bless you!

The way to the store. (ps: You can see the window I mentioned) In conclusion if you want an Un-Goa experience in Goa head off to Literati, to the land of colourful, gripping, binded books and read on for hours without any disturbance or anyone bothering you for a cup of coffee. It is also a place in Goa where you won't get uncomfortable to go with your children.

This one has a tired nevertheless happy ending. And for some reason it got me thinking of the adventures of Swiss Family Robinson; hence the blog post title So, this is how it goes.

I need to board the 9.50p.m. Hussain Sagar train from C.S.T./V.T. station in South Bombay and its already 9.05 and our Domino's Pizza just arrives. I like to chew my food, so all I get is one piece of pizza and we rush out 15 minutes later to catch the train.

For more than two months I was abroad experiencing cultures, sights and sounds that I have never noticed before. I came across some strange familiar sounds in particular. These phonemes I am talking about are words that co-exist in two different languages, only having different morphemes.

Take for example susu, in Chinese it means the father's brother but if you were conversing in Hindi, you would rather not call your paternal Uncle that, would you? Another interesting word I came across was "kana kow" almost like "khana khao" without the aspirated K. The second one in Hindi is merely asking someone to eat their meal but in Taiwanese, well, it is an offensive term.

Another interesting word was pintu to mean gate in Malay, which is a very common nickname in India, and probably the only word to mean something in another language.

Lastly and this might spoil your appetite I came across the word tandas to mean lavatory in Malay, how appropriate no?

Initially I was thrilled when I got to know that I would be learning the saxophone when I first took up the internship. Who would have thunk I would be getting to attend an orchestra perform in concert. I heard the National Taiwan Symphony orchestra perform in Taichung city yesterday and it was simply breath taking. Music is an essential element in every school in Taiwan. And luckily the family I am closest to is very musically inclined. I have heard some amazing classical music-western and Taiwanese in the last few days thanks to Hui Yu.

And today came as a bonus, who would have thunk I would come to Taiwan, get to learn the sax and the piano and then attend two music concerts in the same weekend? Today I got to listen to the hucha, yang-qin, teetha, basoon, saxophone, flute among other instruments in a concert organised by Tzu Chi. Two visually challenged little adorable girls performed too. One sang traditional chinese songs while the other one Taiwanese song.

Its amazing how when the words do not unravel into meaning, yet when combined with melody can touch your heart so deep.

Don't these flowers remind you of sharpener shavings?

In a small town named Houli

I am serenaded with affection



I devour the cacophony, the peace,

the beautiful sights and garbled sounds.

Breathing it all in and sighing it all out



In a small town named Houli

My house is built on a mountain



I bask in the beauty of the image

from the wooden patio of my room

I see mountains and hills

And mist and greenery.



In a small town named Houli

I teach English in Elementary school



I am overwhelmed by their love

My students ask me to sign on sheets of paper

They want to teach me Taiwanese dance

As I strut to class they shout out "Hello teacher Monica"

And a little one grips me in a tight hug unwilling to let go



In a small town named Houli

My colleagues are my family



I revel in the confusion and

grope for familiar words.

I stare at their hands

We are left with phonemes

Followed by nervous laughter



In a small town named Houli

I live with a local Taiwanese family



Modest and only to happy to help.

The children are fascinated with Skype

My home-stay parents try their best

to communicate with broken English



In a small town named Houli

Every meal brings something new



The food bland for the Indian palate

Every morsel melts in my mouth

Sea-food, spinach, green beans,

tofu, mushrooms, bamboo, rice and soup

I taste everything "without legs"



In a small town named Houli
I take the train to the city



My eyes waver to the huge windows from my book

On my left I pass green fields and traditional houses

On my right the mountains outline the horizon

Every train ride leaves me feeling rejuvenated



In a small town named Houli


I see nothing like in the city



A mere twenty minute train ride

And a gaping cultural difference

The ostantatious dressing fascinates

I walk throuh the lanes of the nightmarkets

Its a paradise -Every shop calls out

the smell from every food stall lingers

The track of time is always lost





In a small town named Houli
I feel I am at home.