We went to school too..

We had 49 students in our class, not, 15.  We had more friends!

We had standards, not, grades.

We were but one class, we did not have 8 divisions.

The teachers knew us, they did not have to hold up our I cards, to talk to us.

We had no I cards, our faces were our identity.

Gurkhaji knew each child's going home schedule, Fernandes bus child, new bus child, BEST bus child, car child etc, we did not have 10 security guards doing the job.

We had school at 10 am to 4 pm, not 7.30 am to 4 pm.

We had throwball and athletics, we did not have fancy extra curricullars.

We had one PT (physical training teacher) , we did not have a fancy team of PE (physical Education) teachers.

We were known by our names, even to the office staff, 

On sight the teachers knew our record of pranks, academic excellence or non excellence, they did not have to drag us to office and drag out a file and look us up.

The teacher who  taught me in KG also taught my 10 yrs older sister and 10 yrs younger sister in KG, they did not change every semester.

We had terms and not semesters.

We got no summer homework. 

We got a holiday in pouring rain, we  did not have to show our sincerity by rushing to school in knee deep water.

We played honest to goodness inter school games, arranged by the educational board, in semi playable grounds, we did not have special interschool tournaments organized.

We were atleast once hit by our teachers, and our parents applauded it, instead of coming to school with cavalry and names of politicians.

Our parents could never enter school just for the heck of it, corridor walking parents were not allowed.

We beat each other up and took care of the problem, our parents never heard of any issues.

We did not have fancy restaurants running our canteens, we DID NOT have a canteen.

We had a huge garden to play in, and not a rugged concrete passage.

We had ranks and marks and percentages, we did not have grades and percentiles.

We had 2 tests, 1 terminal exam, 1 Final exam (which decided the status of  our promotion to next class) and not TOK, EE, IOC, IA, II, HI, WL, PP, CAS,  and many other combinations of the english vowel and consonants.

You see , we went to school too!

Restaurants - Rome, Florence, Venice

we were just a few days in each town and so i shall put down the names of only noteworthy restaurants. 

ROME
Santopadre

• Via Collina 18, Rome, Italy

- discovered by mistake! Amazing Italian food, run by a family. Sometimes service is a tad slow as aged grandpa also shows up to serve. Make sure you book before hand. good selection of vegeterian cuisine and tiramisu was superior.

FLORENCE
PROCACCI . via della tourbuoni. Florence.
DO NOT MISS. its open only for lunch and serves the most amazing truffle sandwiches and some other great sandwiches too. pick up jams, jellies et al from there.

OBIKA 

via della rourbuoni. +390552773526   obika.it
Its a mozarella bar. Try the cream cheese mozarella, its already melted and further melts into your mouth and makes way into your soul. large portions so order accordingly.

THE FUSION BAR

+3905527266987  vicolo Del oro . Book in advance. Great italian cuisine. Tad expensive.
Mozarella icecream with strawberries.. MUST HAVE

VENICE
Bistrot de VEnise. Calle Dei Fabbri. San Marco. +390415236651 
Michellin star rated. The highlight of the otherwise disgusting city. The spaghetti arabiatta was hands down winner. Never had onelike that ever!

Hotel Bauer palladio 

Hands down winner of tiramisu

I could not put my fingers, or rather my feelings in place, on why I hated Venice so much. From the minute I set foot... First I thought it was the wild lashing water and sea sickness made me wary. But I realised that it's Venice, which makes my shoulder and neck stiff, my feet weary and my mouth dry. And it's not only me.. Madhur n kids went for a gondola ride, and they were told that almost the entire populaion of Venice, stays in far off islands, and it has gone down from onelakh seventy thousand to just fifty thousand, within 10 years.
Venice has a feeling of helplessness, and staleness to it. I just cannot find better words to describe it. It's a feeling of loneliness, despair and Hollowness. It's full of tourists, thronging with them. San marco the central Venice, where everybody rushes to, has a air of temporariness, leaning towards shallow and desperate.
I really thought I would kiss the floors of Heathrow airport, the minute I would have landed into London.
Well I did not, but was sure glad to set foot in a city which is crowded, loud, but home!

A day in Venice

While the cats were away, this mouse played. While they roasted in the hot sun and- shudder of shudders- took a boat ride to Murano, Appu sat under a shady tree in a lush garden and sipped a cool bottle of water and read a book and took a long massage and ate a hearty meal and had a beer and took a nap. Ha!!
I like Venice, when I am not traveling from one San to another piazza. Ie - San marco , San Paulo, Piazza Roma et al and blah blah. My mil is pretty sorted. One look at the roads of San Marco, [where we had the most amazing spaghetti pomodoro ]( hands down winner) and she said "it looks like Benaeres. Same roads, same stuck to each other houses, spit in one, reaches the other...The cows, bulls, and filth is missing". Now that's calling a spade a spade. But let's not wash off the name totally. It IS a romantic city. Only I find it disgusting because the waters make me want to offer them my last meal.
I love the water. I can look at it for hours. But when I see a a boat bopping and madly cartwheeling, in vicious, bumpy water, my senses take leave, my knees feel weak and my eyes roll up, my heart falls into the pits of my stomach, problem being my stomach does not exist anymore, it's where my mouth should be!
Venice Is said to be drowning slowly, pathetic millimetre by pathetic millimetre. When I look at the gondola oarsmen and all those near drowned buildings, I wonder where all the inhabitants will go. In land they will be - ahem! 'fish out of water'!!
The concierge showed me the- 2 feet from the ground, Mark on the main door, of the property. Now this propert faces the canal. U get of from the vaporetti and walk into the hotel, wihtin a mere 3 footsteps. The smallest footsteps. And from October to March, the water from the canal rises and touches the nearest Walls, which yes! Happen to be houses, cafes, and this hotel. They have a small gate which they put in place to keep this dirty smelly water out (Venice stinks, by the way) and they give people boots which go up to ur naval ( joking , but definitely up to the end of your legs) to reach to vaporetti. And like in Mumbai our kids get off from school because of heavy monsoons,these people get off from work, school, and daily life when the canal rises up to kiss the city of Venice

They need a Siddhi Vinayak to protect their city. Then maybe it won't drown totally.

Venice taxis

Obviously Venice taxis are Vaporetti. Water taxi, where all my breath vaporises. Leaves me with a fine sheen of sweat. And glassy eyed. I am a very sea sick Venice tourist. So Venice is also ticked off and seen there done that kinda thing.
Our hotel is in very serene surroundings. In an ex monastry, where the monks made wine. ( I tell u - I like this religion. It allows nudism, wine making monks and a sewing school run by nuns with the view of the grand canal.) after that it was taken over by a Coventry of nuns who ran a sewing school. It boasts of a garden which is the centre of tranquility specially after a rolling water ride. But we are in the peaceful side of Venice, and all the hubba hubba is on the opposite side. So we had to go. Else I would sit here sipping proseco, reading a book- to hell with the sights and scenes, basilicas and piazzas.
So after a " stomach in my mouth" kinda water rides, I have decided to let the inlaws, husband and children take off to Murano islands and shop for glass pieces. Me! I shall reap the benefits of the spa, sip some beer, take a walk and a nap, and soak in some of the wine,left in the air by these pure god fearing monks, in this heaven blessed by their former goodly presence.
Salute!

We are floating in Venice

We have had some amazing food. All names and reviews will follow once I land in Bombay. We have all had a major overdose of art and culture. We entered the Vatican museums. Booked well in advance via good old Internet. I am afraid it is now ticked off our agenda. We entered and it's like one of those places which make u exit a show through the soveniour shops. You are te,pted to stop and buy all manner of silly pens and notebooks showing the cast. And you are so enamoured you want to take ur favourite character back home forever. Any case, the Vatican is like a huge huge passage. One has to go through all; and all is very very many,rooms. This was the first museum kids saw in Rome. And they got a full class in Biology - chapter -reproductive parts of our body. The paintings and the great Popes great collection went on and on and on. We got out super fast and now I was hoping the kids do not develop a sudden love for culture and art because the museum - Uffizi in Florence was supposed to be the world's largest.
It was crowded and once more Internet had rescued us from thronging crowds, using small electronic Chinese made, fans on a fairly sweet summer day. These Europeans need a dose of India.
We had to climb 300 steps to reach the galleries. And agsin faced with another lesson in biology - the remarkable reproductive parts of godly bodies. It's funny. Enormous naked men and women in the corridors and Jesus in all stages of his life, inside the rooms. Through sick and sin I say! The first few pictures of the various gods and myths and Jesus in all his crisis was beautiful. After 6 pf them we zoomed through the rooms. After all how many expressions of the three wise men, and mother Mary in agony can one see.
Another agenda ticked off.
Art buffs we are not.
And I think I speak for all four of us, only a death threat will drag us into another museum and art gallery.
We shall see the outside structures and ticks it off our things to do ka list!

And off to Florence

A small quick blog..... Since it was so windy and all we could do was time and again wet our feet in the water, hoping the sea had got warmer since 3 minutes back,we booked an early table for dinner and drive down to Bolgheri. It's the producer for world renowned vino, and it's just 10 minutes drive from Li. ( hehehe !) btw Li is the district of Livorno which is huge. Our town is Marina de something or the other.
I am not a wine drinker, but the red wine was outstanding. Hint of sweetness and just dry enough to touch the air. It did not do nasty things to my throat, the way dry red wine normally does.
The town itself was charming. We happened on a wedding, the church being in the entrance of the town centre. The small shops, selling local wine and produce. The restaurant was outstanding. Food amazing and the tiramisu passed the quarterfinals in the hunt!

When in Rome.....

When in Rome, do as the Roman's! And that's what we did. We had loads of ice-cream..walked on the roads, saw all the monuments, genuflected in basilicas, Drank water from the fountains, ate amazing pizza, but we are still on a "outstanding tiramisu" hunt. Other than a fantastic family run restaurant in Rome, we have not had good tiramisu and even surprisingly for that matter,soft melting buffalo mozzarella. Winner's name will Be updated!
We are now in the Tuscany coast. Till we left we did no know where we were going. Nope! Its not the adventurous spirit. Not at all! Thing is, while I was looking up the Tuscanny coast, I could not make out head or tail, rather coast or vineyard. So I decided to go book in a rather absurd way. I started hunting for good hotels, bang on the sea side,trying to stay away from busy touristy resorts. We found a nice place, booked it, and me having my memory, promptly forgot the name of the coast and town. Now we had a Li in the end of our address. What and where, pray is Li? So finally to madhur,s exasperation we had to call the resort in Li and feed all the pertinent details in our navi unit.
And arrive we did. Much to kanak's disgust.... To windy Coastal winds. We stepped into the sea for a feeler. Jaysus! It was the water of frozen, just melted Canadian seas! The faaaaat man, manning the beach towel stand, kept saying Si, Si, to our every question of will it be warm? Is it going to be cold tomorrow? Will the wind go down? Will the wind stay this way? After a non stop "Si" session we realised we have to play dumb charades. So Kanak acted like she was frozen. Tanay like he wants to get warm. Me like I want to swim with Tanay who is warm. Madhur like he Does NOT want to swim with Kanak.
AAAAh. Finally it dawned on fat Italian man, that will the weather be warm enough to swim in tomorrow. "Si", he said. "Si, Si".

We boarded the flight to Heathrow, London, with sleepy red eyes and waiting to pull up the covers and knock off. Instead all our dreams for dreams were knocked off! In arrived a couple, with a 1 something year old baby. Madhur and me looked at each other in alarm, both thingking "thats it!! baby doom!" and sure enough this child stared her tenor wail and it lasted the entire flight! Through the night! Now its not the baby's fault but definately the parents'! I mean come on, I too have a niece and nephew who travelled at the same age. And my nephew is a fire ball of energy. We are all sure his mother feeds him rocket fuel for breakfast! (nazar na lage THU THU") Even he was behaved in a flight longer than this! Atleast his parents saw to it! 
These parents should have sedated that kid. And had they not wanted to they should have taken mercy and sedated all of us! And yes, I did in a very off hand way give the parents a piece of my mind! 
Rome is beautiful. We caught the less daunting sights, leaving the Colosseum and Vatican for non jetlagged days! And a word of advice to anybody sight seeing in Rome.. Dont pooh pooh the Trevi fountain as just another fountain. The first glimpse strikes you dumb! One is supposed to stand next to the fountain, with you back to it and make a wish and flip a coin backwards into the fountain. We sat on the steps of the fountain, mesmerised and unable to get up and leave. 
The roar of the water, the sudden chill one feels in that area, even on a hot day, the sheer magnifesence. So far the Lure of Italy lives up to its name! Even the smallest Pole with a small Virgin Mary is Mamma Mia!!


--
Aparna Somani
Life needs a frosting! Eat more desserts!

The sea of -- Humanity

Let me start with the sparse and go up to the time where all i can see is people. I mean the beach, the sand and the sea which is supposed to be Water and not Humanity. The weekends are packed, and from as far back as I can remember, we would never go to the beach on a Sunday. "its a sunday!!" we would exclaim and panic if our guests wanted to "see the sea" on that day.
I have never been able to figure out, why women don their finest while visiting the beach, Sarees of the colour, which could put the sun god to shame. Why? when u know your enamoured spouse is going to drag a screaming you into the water, and splash it all over you, and then proceed to take pictures of you, wringing your saree dry, and ask another unfortunate soul to stop his jogging and take one with his arm around your drooping sodden shoulders. Why would you wear the saree you wore for your own wedding???
Then one level worst is the summer vacations, for which mercifully we were out for 2 weeks and the remaining went along, waiting for high tide days, when people would refrain from majorly long picnics. Then is Ganpati visarjan. Those days are filled with men and women dancing with abandon. Now if it was a dance of joy and godly love i would sincerly surrender the beach to them without a single angry word. But these nuts, they dance to film songs, in stupor, drunk on alcohol and high on drugs. These are the elements which leave behind headless trunks of the elephant god, only to be sweeped away by the garbage van the next day. Forgive them Lord, for they know not what they do!
The worst day is the day of the CHATPOOJA. That day , the entire UP and BIHARI population surface and fill the beach.. that day is the day which i call the SEA OF HUMANITY.
This is THE festival. About 15 days after Diwali. And I am ready to swear on my cycles, one cannot see sand. All you can see is - red , orange, yellow, red, and another shade of red. and dazzling gold. AND the green is huge stumps of banana leaf, stuck on the poor sand. The only black one can see is the heads of the men. Women are covered from head to toe in red, orange, yellow......
Women light diyas, helpless flapping their hands in supersticious agony when the wind blows it out. But obviously, on Chat Pooja even the wind is supposed to desist this silly behavious of blowing out diyas! Ridiculoulsy careless, this wind!
On all high tide days, the water thrashes on the sand and the sand starts piling up and one can see a complete demarkation between two areas of the beach, one about 3 feet higher than the other. But on Chat pooja, the sea of humanity does the work of nature. The sheer number of people trampling the beach on that day, level the sands for the next full year.
For the rape of the beach on this day, I have a immense dislike towards Shatrughan Sinha. The Bihari actor, who did this Karmic deed for his brethren.
Last Chatpooja's fashion was the "Phataphat" saree. !!!
If you have grown up in a non posh school in Mumbai, you have definately eaten phataphat. It is jerragoli (yum !) in a packet the color of muddied Shiv Sena flag, hanging limply outisde a mill, closed for the past 12 years.: and black round balls (representing the jeeragoli) printed on the muddy orange.
Atleast 25 of the 40 women I caught sight at first glimpse had gone for this latest trend. At that time i admired them, for they carried on without any grudge towards the other woman copying her fashion statement. Had this same thing happend with some of our upper class women, .. some would have running sobbing into loos, some shreiking back home in anger, and few would have got down to the nasties and torn each others' clothes off!

Wind in my hair, and a saddle under my bums..

Some time back Madhur and I went to see a horse show.  The school is more than a 100 years old and have a specialized training program for horses and riders, and they barely use the whip. The whip is just used to touch the horse in the flank or the stomach to give them a signal on what they need to do next. The immaculate control, the arrogant snorting of these superior beasts, took me back to the days I used to ride on the beach.
Those days every possible animal was allowed on the beach. Camels, camel tongas, horses and  horse tongas.  The ‘ghodawalas” with their “retired race horses” were my favorite. They were not really “retired RACE horses” Some were no doubt, but they would never give their beloved steeds to non riders for 10 bucks a few paces. It would most definitely, ruin the “horse’s chaal (stance)”
Neverthless I took to riding like, well ...like a rider does to a saddle! Every evening before it would get too crowded I would jump on my favourite horse, and because I was “baby” I would get more than  I paid for. A ride from one end of the beach to another. Soon I was known as a rider and many owners with good and Ahem! genuine retired race horses would give me their horse for an hour, just so that I could ride the horse and exercise it.
Those are moments I hold so close to my heart. The rein in my hand, the wind in my hair, making my eyes water, my heart thumping, the sea crashing on the shore, the sun glaring from the crest of the waves, making the sweating horse gleam even more, the hooves skimming over the water's edge, my thighs in agony from holding on tight on  to the saddle, the horse leaping ahead, refusing to slow down, for they know when the person on the saddle can ride or bump around on the saddle causing the horse distress and disgust. I would be barefoot, my ankles resting on rusted stirrups, holding them with my toes, the way the ghodawalas did.
I was fearless, a rebel and ready to die for the glory of it, on horseback! The times I would be on the saddle  was the time it was only me and the horse speeding under me, his mane rustling the air, the tail whipping the wind, and many times I was sure of near certain death, but the smile on my face would remain intact, while riding, while preparing to die and for the rest of the evening.
And one day I fell.  I FELL??  I fell? I admit to a healthy dose of ego!
Off came the glory and up crept anger. Deep dark anger which coated a red film on my eyes and I went marching up to Shibuddin, who till then had refused to give me his horse to ride. He must have seen me whipping up a good old temper, or maybe it was the moment he was waiting for. But he offered to train me bare back. No saddle, no stirrup. Only the reins and my own thighs. It was excrutiating, painful and I was ready to give up end number of times, had my ego and Shibuddin’s “I knew u would give up”eyes, not stood guard.  Once trained to ride bare back you simply cannot fall off the horse, unless the horse himself collapses into a heap. But you have to be fit as a, AAh…. well ….horse!

And then I got married which yet did not deter me. If I die Madhur can remarry, right? But kids,, they stuck up in me a fear of handicapped life and death itself. And once fear sets in, it can eat you up in one mouthful, if, you let it.
So to keep fear at bay I time and again get on the  horse, time and again take off at a speed intended to fly, but the heart thumps harder and after each ride I look up to the sky and thank God for letting me get off in one piece. 
And ….my ego does not permit me to say this, but my conscience demands it,….. my thighs sing in pain, the knees creak in disgust and the bum!! OMG!!!

For the people who brought me up

My friend started a topic which took me back many many years into my childhood. I have grown up with the most wonderful staff: loyal, dedicated and deadly honest. I know for a fact that if an armed robber was to attack us, they would without doubt act as our human sheilds.
There was Baijnathji, my dad's munim. He was the shopper, the bank and the man who lifted his eyebrows at us if we spent more of dad's money than required. On a rickshaw ride he would keep glaring at the metre, daring it to rise beyond his expectations. He would buy almost second hand fruits (to dad's distress) just so that he did not have to pay extra. The old man, would carry me double seat, duly cushioned for my young bums, all the way back from school, and my school being Andheri (e) and we lived in Juhu, A good 20 km ride to and fro.
His brother Bishambharjee was our driver. The car was his baby and we were driven everywhere without overtime. The finest memory i have of him was him, weeping, standing under his clothes hanging high in a rod... "arre Bimshamber's clothes are here, but where is Bishamber??" I am not being mean, he was high on Bhaang!!
Saraswati who took care of me for 9 years and had to retire because she was ill, whom I to date think of fondly. I unearthed a photo of her's and It made me supremely happy.
The one who I love the most, my surrogate dadi, my beloved Mania bai.
She came as my dadi's midwife and stayed on as her companion. And what a companion. They fought with each other like scalded cats blaming each other for getting burnt. The bad words that echoed would have had most people turning purple on the face. But underneath all that was a far greater love than a mother has for her child.
Maniabai was entrusted the house silver, spices, dry fruits, herbs, linen et al. Damn, she near had the entire house under her control. Maniabai had 3 huge Godrej cupboards, which she would clean with her discerning eye. Every sheet was as white as fresh snow, each sheet was darned and i think they were scared to rip. They were lined in a stack so perfect, one look could tell you how many double and single sheets existed in her inventory.

No chef trained for 10 years and armed with the most special knife could cut fruits like her.
I just spoke with her and at 87+ she is still lucid, and demanded I send her the photos taken with her and nephew, and since I have always had a healthy fear of her, I shall do so right away..


PS: She is so dedicated i know she will pass on only after my grand mother does!!

What to do in ZURICH

ALL ABOUT ZURICH
Sprungli – at Parade Platz.  Amazing food ! Try their volez vonts and sandwiches
Belvoirpark – this is a catering school . Book in advance. The food and service and ambience is to die for.  If weather permits try to book a table in the garden area.   ± +41442868844
Hotel Zurichberg – Google it. Top of Zurich. Great view good food. Fine dining . Try for outside tables. Like watching zuric from a mountain at night.
Tres Kilos – google   good Mexican joint
Café Terresse – Other side of the lake. Nice place to catch a lunch. Google for direction
Hitl –   (nope – not Hilton)opp hotel glockenhoff. .  off Bahnoff  Strasse.  All vegetarian food buffet  excellent.
Hotel Glockenhoff  Garden Cafe
Hotel Adler . Other side of the lake. +41442669666.  Best fondue, raclette

Yelmoli.  Off Bahnoff strasse. Department store.  Lots of brands.
ST Annahoff. Department store, great brands, not very expensive. Loved the stuff. The ball wale safety pins, for sarees are available here on 3rd floor.
Calida – Behind Globus and in main station  -- to die for undergaments (men and women) and night wear
Neiderhoff strasse, other side of lake. Off Lowenstrasse. Great shops  . Huge gourmet food stores.  Great cafes.
Bahnoffstrasse – main street has all brands- shoes, clothes, accessories et al.
Main Station (main train station) you can spend a day in the interiors. Many many shops and brands and gourmet food stores. If you get caught in Zurich on a weekend and everything is shut, just go to this place and spend your time window shopping and buying.

To The great Gods of the Mountains

I am normally a beach and sand person. But for the first time a mountain has made me realise its fiery beauty. It took us Baby steps to reach the top of Europe (which is what they call Jungfrau) Once we reached the level of 11333 feet above sea level, by train, we felt light headed and a bit tired. breathing became heavy. We took a step ahead, reached the restaurant had a meal went up a few flight of stairs, and had to stop again. Slowly and with trepidtion (because I saw a man whose face was blue, in the restaurant and a whole lot of fit looking men, sitting on the staircase looking glassy eyed and half dead!).. so slowy and with trepidition we went towards the entrance of the opening to go out to the mountains. we were seeing the mountains from the restaurant window, all whirling wind and falling blowing snow. And we knew we were about to stand out in -10deg C.
We dressed up in 3 layers adn gloves adn caps and ear muffs adn walked out and i slipped.. swoooop ! the ice was packed and slippery as a huge slab ! No worries.. all in the game. Got up laughing and that heated up our bodies some! Bravely we took some pictures and ran back in! But having stepped out in that cold, withstanding that kind of bitter wind, snow flaking our faces , shoes slipping,,, its a memory one does not forget!

While reaching the top we saw icicles.

Just hanging there, without a care in the world. I could just imagine how the water trickling down from melting glaciers must have suddenly touched chilled wind and just frozen in an instant on its way down. now instead of dripping water it was a sharp edge of an icicle.

We woke up that morning to colours. White mountains on grey backgrounds, ink blue sky with blue silk texture, dark green trees, dusted with white snow, green meadows spread in glory with yellow flowers, and sun dipped spots, melted liquid snow on black tarmac roads, white sparkling snow shining on our faces like millions of glittering diamonds strewn around, icy blue water fall trickling and bubbling into brooks, the tricky wind blowing now this direction then the other, red sun shining on snow capped mountains, leaving an orange hue tinged with yellow. It was a sight for all senses. The air was clean, pure and earnest. The sights were enough to drive the eyes into tears. One could hear a calmness in the air and also follow a buzz, which said its a day sent by gods. They would be angry if you dont go see his everlasting beauty and witness the mountains from the top. Birds sang and cows mooed. the grass sprung new and fresh, and small little floweres popped out from within their hiding spaces in the blades of grass. Fresh dung tinged the air, but it sent a message of spring and hope and new lives and old loves.

It was a glorious morning and i swear i grew a few years younger.

it was a day to thank the god for his marvellous creation of a human, who could see, hear, feel , taste, emote, love and dance. and for this human to thank god for his other creations which lets us see, feel, taste, emote, love and dance.

snow and beauty

We woke up to fresh snow and mountains covered with snow. Fields tree tops and mountains. So we made the trip to Jungfrau ( j pronounced as y ) and after a one and half-hour journey sitting behind noisy Indian family,the man who remineded me of a someone who has so much gyaan.... Jaane do. Thinking of him will send viruses scampering on this computer. Needless to say I needed earplugs. Sadly not provided for in the expensive fare.
But it was a Visit etched in my memory for life. I normally like my sun and sea but this time the mountain enthralled me. it was all whirling snow and White sparkles. This will take some writing and I shall do it later from home. I find it very difficult to type intense stuff without my computer.
We returned and went for a long walk down in the village between meadows and a river. A very special memory indeed.
On return to the hotel we were sitting by the bar enjoying a drink and in walked a bus load of Chinese. The Chinese by the way have overtaken Switzerland. They are everywhere. Mercifully in our three days here in Grindlewald the 20 odd busloads have all eaten in the " Jasmine Chinese restaurant " in a small alley. Since the restaurants are really small here and about 50 odd Chinese men and women was definatley not my ideA of a romantic dinner.
One guy was really gung ho. He was photographing all over. The Easter decoration, the chairs. He checked out the wall paper. He even clicked his waiter and the table and food. ( they were half boarding and had food in hotel ) thats the time madhur n me hastily left For dinner, not wanting to feature even a part of our hands in his photo shoot. After dinner when we got back and the hotel door opened ( lobby is small and was empty ) he srang up startled. I am dead sure he was clicking the floor tiles and the worn out carpet ( ugly) leading up the stairs !
He, according to Madhur is opening a faux spinne hotel in china. Hopefully the chinese will then arrive their in busloads and leave the real Switzerland alone.

Cheese n more cheese

I told the newly pregnant lady at reception that I would love to come back in summer. And she looked at my stomach in glee thinking her new baby would have company with my new baby soon! Yes! I look pregnant. At my age not as sweet as she does ! Nobody meets me once I get back, not until I have eaten boiled veggies for a week and cycled and walked everyday. Cannot run - it will harm the baby and my weight might break my ankle or wrench my back or .... It's dangerous right now !

It's snowing today. And rained all day. Slight wet sizzle. I had to hear bheegi bheegi raaton mien ... I had to!

The view is gorgeous. I am going to post pictures later. And all the food places, but not now. Even writing about it the calories will transfer through my fingers, into my stomach. ...for baby to grow!!

day three - travel

atleast three of you have asked me about Madhur's reaction to "melons" . I already knew his reaction but neverthelss asked him to give me a verbal one! he gave me a mighty getural and a flamboyantly verbal one. He stuck is tongue out and said "cheee Curdled milk. Fat curdled milk" We were sitting on a road side cafe and i fell over the road laughing almost gettng myself killed by a cyclist!
I can authoratatively tell you why the spate of robberies are taking place all over Switzerland.
One has to change a few trains to reach any destination in Switzerland. And fast! We had to change 3, but we built up such an appetite within 2 that we missed the last transit had a quick lunch and caught the next train. But before i take away on a train journey let me solve this mystrey.
One has to run and i mean RUN to catch a train. One arrives at 11.02 hours at platform 3 and another one takes of at 11.05 at platform 5A . So you run down with your bags, run up a foot bridge and run down again, only to run up agian. and you want the best seat, so you run even faster peeping into carriages and finally get into one. And all this time the bag slung over your shoulder shouts " Helloooo, here i am ! HERE" and you start doing a mental jig followed by a physical jig, happy over your seat adn coonquest. and you sit down with a heave and a coffee and then you realise "VOILA" your purse has been nicked from under your "closed in relief" eyes!
Do you want to let the Swiss police into this secret or should i reveal my identity and take on this heavy task??

While eating, sleeping, crapping, peeing, walking , we are kissing the mountain. but more on that later.Right now we are trying to digest the raclette and the kirsch which is also trying to digest the raclette!
Life is a stream of water, melted from the glacier, it hit stones on the way but emerges crystal clear to meet the river it promised to! 

day two zurich

What a heavenlzy place is Zurich! I eat back my words and finally agree that it has overtaken london in my esteem! small picturesque city, easy laid back people, no bumping no noise (except for the rumbling of the trams) and cycles every where. just simply everywhere.
I normally dont make comments about people, well i do, but this is going to be a bit mean!
Madhur and me were walking along the lakeside and it was a Saturday and a sunny one, so there fore was the rest of zurich. (imagine all of bombay in one area, definate conditions  for a stampede, if not an earthquake... this is how small the Zurich populaton seems to be!)
So - while walking hand in hand , at one point i froze and Madhur looked at me questioningly and saw me staring wide eyed, open jawed and red eared, at a woman. Now people, think----------.Ready? ok quickly thisnk of large 5 kg melons or water melons. But round ones!!
She had breasts that size, absolutely well rounded and huge 5 kg each. Ofcourse no self respecting bra company will make bras that size, so she had probably ripped some fabric and stiched herself some. And she was young but over weight. but not so overweight to warrantboobs of that size! And they swung happily and freely all around in a up-right- down- left- up .... pattern. I really want to know what kept the young man (overweight but not obese) next to her holding her hand and not hiding his head under a cap or several caps and an overgrown beard or a clown getup.. anything to not be seen as the true identity. Machochistic love i say!
And later at night when i was enjoying a fantastic meal, (about which will be a separate blog), I almost choked when i thought of that walking swinging water melon.
And given the crazy dreams i have i was worried gettign to sleep. thought i would suffocate and die between her boobs! gasping for breath between sweaty fumes!
luckily i dreamt of my freind and a parrot! Wonder what the analyst would make of that!

Zurich Day 1 8th april 2011

The time I was catching a flight, was  the exact time a million more were also doing the same thing. The immigration was filled to the brim with wailing babies, excited honeymooners, tired businessmen and already hasassed mommies. The real horror began after that. I was tugging away at my hand bag ( and regretting not sticking to my normal backpack) and suddenly the hand bag tugged back. I pulled hard but it started pulling back like a wailing child at a sweet shop, trying to pull his mother towards a giant full day lollipop. (and the mother being me would onlz think of the sticky goop allover the child, hand, car, bags, sheets .. never mind!)
So getting back to the bag _ i looked down and the bag looked up at me defiantly. Thats when i spotted a black piece lying near the wheel. I was anycase irritated trying to find the lounge, so that I could just sit after breathing in the fumes of so many people at immigration, and the bag was just giving me a hard time trying to do that. I  found the loung and sat down in the last empty chair, feeling stupid because i was breating in more fumes  from a lot many more people. I sat down and asked the bag wzy it was misbehaving and the wheels screeched in protest! the wheels (both! ) of the bag were in bits and tatters. thats what i had seen earlier! the black thing!! I sighed and realised my first bit of shopping has started even before i have boarded the plane. And when i went out the same way i came in i saw pieces of the disintegrated wheel all over the airport floor!
the flight was not that great (again i repeat  JET is the answer ! I dont know why i try to weave away from my own advice) the blanket had a bug or several bugs and i was bitten all over. finally i went to sleep over a rather bumpy flight. aaaH  I also had some "hot " hot chocloate dropped on me!
But now i am in Zurich, my passport is not stolen(Bad dreams of this for 3 days in a row) amd i had the most stumtous lunch and dinner!
and Spent the entire day shopping!!!

Airplane travel

In an airplane I normally knock off, within 30 seconds of buckling the seat belt. In the last few years if a new life saving device has been introduced I have no knowledge of it. For some odd reason, the flight to and fro bangalore I just could not sleep, and since i cannot read, I looked around.

My friend was an airhostess in Cathay for many years. i have heard craziest stories, but the best one was about the man who entered the plane with a crash helmet. (this was before the times of "get nude" security and where turbans were not asked to be removed). The man kept the helmet on during take off. My friend and her colleagues thought that he would take it off post, but no matter how much they explained, cajoled he point blank refused. He lifted his visor and pushed his meal through it.

The man sitting next to me was of average built. (this -while going to bangalore). I wanted to sleep, but the smell of vada sambhar woke me up. My co passenger started eating, slowly and steadily he made his way into the food. First he chewed and finished the fruit plate. Then the bread butter and jam. Then the chicken cutlet, some gravy dish and poha (which was stale, as if made in the last centuary) and 2 cups of tea and every grain of the after mint. The packet of salt and pepper was also used. By now i was on the edge of my seat. His plate was clean, every container shining. I swear i had not seen him lick it. He had annihilated every single particle.When he started nibbling at the fork, the alarmed air hostess swiped the plate away. I sat back in my seat heaving a sigh of relief.
One gentle man had arrived, with only a huge bundle of papers neatly tied by string. The minute the flight took off, he got it down from the cabin baggage and threw them on the floor next to his feet. He took out 3 neatly folded garbage disposal bags from his pocket and opened them up. He then proceeded to tear up all the 200 odd A4 size pages into tiny bits. When one tears up paper to such small bits, one cannot take more than 2 or 3 at a time. He then patiently distributed each torn paper into the 3 bags. No paper shredder could have done such a detailed job. The one in his office had broken down from a massive inferiority complex. Just before landing he finished his task and stuffed them back in the cabin stow. He left with all his bags. I will go to my grave wondering what the papers were about.
While returning from Bangalore, I had my eye shields on, in the hopes of doing my normal stuff- sleeping. No luck, but the eye shields stayed on. At some point I smelt something super putrid. A fart is a fart and this was not a fart. I slid off my eye shield and saw a man standing next to me. He had his arms resting on my head rest and therefore his armpits were exposed to the air. By God! I swear he had taken a dip in a urine pot. The eye shield slid to my nose, but even that was not enough. I tried to kill my self by suffocating with the pillow, even that did not work.  He had never every washed his armpits with even water, forget soap! If taken into police custody and questioned about the last two bodies found dead due to unknown circumstances, the case would have been cracked. It would be found that he had taken them by the scruff of their necks and shoved their faces into his armpits. Dead in 2 seconds due to intense toxic fumes!!!!
The flight was delayed due to airtraffic and he got restless. With every restless move, more smell wafted into the air. Everytime the airhostess would passby, I would smell eu de cologne. i think they were surreptiously spilling from a bottle as they walked past him. I came home and had a shower with the most fragrant body wash I could find.
There was an ambulance waiting outside with 2 stretchers. I saw his co passengers (he was sitting in the middle) being taken away in blazing siren, with gas masks attached to their faces.

Pat Phong

Blog

The king is not at all keen to have his pictures adorn the walls of "open pussy" shows. I knew it. Why let on, how you can manage to live like a " king". 
We went to Pat Phong yesterday. The seedier seamier side of this city. Everything Bangkok has been said it can be. 
We exited the taxi right outside a by lane ( all the bars etc are in by-lanes. Demarcated into various sins.) this lane looked busy and noisy with lots of signs reading " boys" and other names of that species. I was all ready to go in, but madhur backed up, rather White  in face. "no way am I going in there. Aaage chal". It was all gay. With men on men shows. I peeped in to see if I could see any women, and if this is where women would go for a show. Saw a few, but they could well have been men. The famous " lady boys". 
A man, and I have not seen a more weird looking one...  He had makeup all over his face. It was a decent face, and I yet wonder why he had on so much make up? Pink makeup, running with sweat, earned due to MBA form of marketing. All firms should pick up their marketing managers from here. These guys can sell to make straight men gay and vice versa. Ofcourse beauty companies should not hire them for makeup sales for very obvious reasons. 
These men have printed cards. I saw one, peeking over Madhur's shoulder. The list went-- Pussy show. Half pussy show. Open pussy show. Eat banana show. Wet show. Full sex show. Sexy girl show. U get the gist?  He insisted that we can see the insides before we pay "onee undled bhaaat per pelsun. ". Madhur was very iffy, because earlier I had mighty huge and colossal reservations and an extremely closed mind about this. Turning 40 was a nice thing to happen. And I insisted we go in. Walked up seedy staircase avoiding touching the Walls, and we were faced with topless women on a level standing next to poles. One woman's face caught my attention. The show was about to start. This woman was old. Wrinkled. And definitely in her 50's. She looked sad. There she was standing, idle waiting for the show to begin, the entire audience staring at them, and it made me feel a bit sick at heart. I guess they are used to this and it's no big deal, but I would like to think that they would love to be offered another job. Wishful hopes I know!! 
So we walked out, within 30 seconds and now the man insisted on knowing what we felt lacking. 
Great experience all in all. 
Then we went shopping in that area. Bought a few t shirts, etc. Sat in a taxi which insisted " we get out" if we want to pay by metre. So while getting off in the safety of our hotel doors I told him that he is a pig in Hindi. And asked him to go find out the meaning. N just before closing the taxi door i very sweetly told him the meaning. 
Seeing his red furious face, and seeing him drive the taxi away, tyres screeching,  made my day. 

Chinglish

The Chinese English is completely unfathomable. Whenever Madhur travels back from China or Malaysia I take a day and then remind him he is back in a land which speaks Hinglish. 
A typical conversation would go something like this. But first let me ask u to keep your minds open and read each word aloud and exactly as I print it. I know I make spelling mistakes but this time there is a reason and meaning behind it. Ok here goes. 
Oh - another thing. When they meet you, anywhere in a mall in the hotel reception, in a loo, in the massage room, even in the midst of a mud wrestling fight.- they will say swadeekaa. And the aaa will end with a shrill nasal note. Its a perfected art. Taught as soon as they are potty trained. 
" swadeekaaa " said the driver. " u go where? Aaahh ? "( by now u HAVE to talk like them.) " go to lamai beach " " lamai beach aaah. Ok ok". " so where u stay " we ask. " boputtt. (which is actually bop hut)   And whey u fron? " " india ". " aaaahh. India aaaahh. Ok ok. U come on honeymoon? " " no no. We come holiday " " u ave childrun? " ." yes have.  2.". "aaahh ok ok. ". 

While bargaining. - " how much? I take 3. Make good price"  so she gets out the calculator and writes an astronomical amount on it. " no no. Better. Better". " she writes another price and says " for u only I do".  Then u grab the calculator and write a ridiculous amount.   And she says. " no can. No can !". Then u say " can do. Can do". Finally she says " ok ok! U good me good. " and taps another amount in the calculator. U purchase ur goodie, both smile knowingly and you walk away. 

In a restaurant. -  " we vegetarian. You make this dish without pork ( they are obssessed with pork. Pork chips, pork straws, pork fried...  Piggy mania). ". " yes can. ". So u sit down in the restaurant and look at the menu. By then the waiter is next to u with the drinks menu and has already said " swadeekaaa" thrice.  U ask " what this dish. What it have? " ( I am sure u are now getting worried about my English and having severe doubts about communicating with me ever again) " aaahh thidish ( no spelling mistakes as yet. Pl keep reading). It ha mudrooms and pagetttiii. Vegeterianaaa". " ok. We take this. " it works up an appetite I tell u. 

Again while going back home. -  " bad traffic huh? ". Cab driver says " oooh yaaa. Vedy baaaad. it take aavvar to leach anywhey. Vedy bad traafeec. ". 

I prefer Hinglish folks. Chinglish makes my palate feels ticklish. 

Bangkok

We were staying in Silavadee in Samui. Sila would mean stone and a rough translation of Vadee in this case would mean flora and fauna, or the surroundings. We left Samui today and I carried most of the stones with me - in my heart. It was one of the most gorgeous places i have seen. We were taken for a roller coster buggy ride when we checked in. The entire property is set on a cliff with facilities on various levels. We were taken to our rooms,  barely surviving the near death experience of a buggy going downhill, - while backing up. We decided to walk henceforth. 
As soon as the doors were opened we realised the room is still far away. This was just the main door and in front of us stretched the sea, blue blue sea at a level way below us. The Infiniti pool hung on the edge of this cliff. There was a view from the room, from the other room, from all sides of the Infiniti pool and from the bed. A view we left behind with heavy stone ridden hearts. 
I was subconciously humming "one night in Bangkok" all the way in the flight. Wrong. All wrong. Where a few years ago existed seedy seamy streets, with gay bars, porn DVD shops, night clubs, sex shows and the works, now existed hi tech flyovers, few over many more. Of course, we were told, all of that still exists and the economy and the king ( whose pictures adorn the entrance of every shop, and I want to know if they also adorn the seedier side shop entrances) earns his keep thru them. 
We went to the 64th Flr of a hotel To the rightly named sirocco and sky bar. I was enthralled with the food, the view and even more by the women on the table next to us. I was told by my very knowledgeable husband that they were the famous " lady boys". The same ones we see on the road in India clapping their hands outside car windows. Only here I would be damned if you could make out. The reason I suspected was one " woman" had a face which unfortunately resembled a horse. And a little later my suspicions were vindicated. They were solemnly soliciting at the bar. I hope they were unceremoniously thrown out later. 

Koh Samui

A man named Pooh came in to our room to re load the Internet n wifi. He looked like one too,round faced and plump. Spoke like a pooh too! It takes a day to understand the "Chinese " English. They talk like my little nephew,who has just turned into a parrot. Repeats everything you say, but yet misses a few letters and syllables. Now the Thais are not a rude race at all. So when we asked our driver's name and he said a very definate "no", we were both stunned. Both of us fell back on our seats, from our upright chatty positions from just a few seconds ago. This must be happening to all his passengers. He started chuckling and showed us his card. His name was "Nok". They simply leave out alphabets n syllables. Similarly we met "chalk" though we did not meet "cheese". .. As yet!
We have a little "infiniti" pool, which hangs off the cliff into the sea. Madhur and me spent a few hours chatting and swimming. You can now call me "toasted".
I hate lays and I love wafers / crisps that are fried in true blue oil, without claiming to be "quick fried / baked and or low calorie.". If u have to eat them, to my mind, eat them. Savour the oily flavour that fills your mouth, with pure salt and black pepper. It has a satisfaction of itself. Something soul touching and memory captivating. A packet of kettle and a few beers later I was ready to do anything. Luckily they don't have cliff diving or bungee jumping on this island.
We had the most amazing dinner on top of rocks tonight. The sound of the sea just a few feet away from us, 2 bottles of wine and a deadly combination of romance and friendship.
Oohh. And the lady who served us was called " fron". U are right. I asked her " from where?"

Koh Samui

We arrived after a long flight and barely 3 hours of sleep in
our systems. But the minute we landed in koh Samui we both felt instant
draining of toxic levels and a breath of fresh air - puns intended. There was
this man - I could feel his excitement. And no he wa not drunk, I know that.
He was the first up from his seat, when the flight landed. Infact the air
hostess announced that we should all stay seated till the air plane is
pArked.(imagine a irresponsibly parked plane taking off downhill ?!!) then he was
the first in the exit and I swear I saw him trip at least thrice. Once from the
flight to the exit and the second time when he was looping over the staircase
like a teenager running for the doors after school, and the last that I saw was him
embarking from the small cute, buggy car which took us from the plane to the
thatched roof airport.I had my eyes on him, I could not help it, much to
madhur's irritation for not paying attention to the luggage,which was not
coming in! I just could not help it, he was so excited. Ooops did I forget to
mention his age?? Uhhh! Rough estimation - late 50's.
Now what is it with these Japanese folks? The guy leaves his wife, the wife
leaves her husband and the both leave their luggage all over the place in
trollies which have a mind of their own, all over the airport, trying to click
every square inch on a small efficient camera. He walked into the loo with his
camera going click click click, and I don't want to know what he clicked in
there. I know he did, cause i was in the adjacent loo and I heard sssss, click
, SSS click.
The airport was full of people from cold countries escaping,but ofcourse,the
cold. How did I know ?? Well the loo was filled with men and women desperately
stepping out of appx 6 layers of clothes into Skimpy shorts and tees, and hand
bags filled with thick furry jackets, which I heard one family describing in
detail how they would throw every piece in the sea and with what degree of
glee.
The hotel beats description. I will post pictures of the room with the view
later. The only way I can explain the gorgeousness of it all was I forgot to
pee. I wandered around like a drug addict in a store giving away free drugs,
and with my jaw dropping over the cliff I was standing over. Madhur had to
unwind the bandage he finally wrapped around my jaw to push it back in place.
Needless to say he did it only during dinner, leaving it intact during our
evening walk in the fisher mans village.
That in itself was a Experience. It was a friday street market and the thais'
were making cocktails on the street. Complete with ice and shaker and the
fringes. If only I could do this in the Anand melas held in Mumbai. What a
killing i would make?
Dinner was in a restaurant called - hold ur breath. Nope that was not the name - I am asking you to hold
your breath as I tell u the name. Ok. Inhale. - name of restaurant was
ORGASMIC. Now exhale. Arreee exhale. That's better!
It was truly ORGASMIC. The food. The alcohol. The dessert and the bar tender.

What i have learnt from teenagers

WE learn more from them than they do from us!
Its ok to be a cool mom, but its not ok to let their friends know it!
Its not ok to wear cool clothes, its not even ok to look like a "desi bhenji" Go figure the balance yourself.
Its not ok to stress on extra curriculars, its ok to take the blame for not doing so later.
Its ok to let them be, its not ok to reel them in.
Its ok to let them have late nights, its not ok to do so yourselves and leave them "alone and helpless" at home.
You better move your butt when they need something, its ok for them to move slow (or not move at all) if we need something.
We are outdated and its ok to accept it, its not ok for them to accept that they are moving too fast.
Its not ok to give sex ed, but you better have answers when they throw random questions at you.
Your music is not ok. theirs is terrific, the best, the mostest, awesome - you get the gist?
 Their life is their own, yours is a "fevicol ka jod " with them.

 There is this one thing I learn't which was a tremendous lesson.
Kanak made a few new friends in her IB school, and slowly I was allowed to meet them. The first instance this one girl met me (I shall name her V, so that by the time I end this, you people will not lagao her "nazar") - so - this girl met me and she came up to me (for all she knew, i could have been a horrrible ass ) but she came up to me all smiles and hugged me. It was not a kiss in the air type of socialite hug. It was a "full on" rib crushing - hold on to u- love u- hug!
Now I have been a rather touch me not kind of person (with most people), so I was very taken aback! But courtesy demanded I hug back, and slowlyI felt the warmth of the hug spread to my heart and warm my soul. Then - I wanted to hug and hold on longer than she would.(on this account i must add that another of Kanak's friend is a big hugger too. she envelopes you in a cloud of love and leaves your heart lighter and you more loved. she is "N")
There is so much formality in our community, in laws dont hug their daughters in law, or their sons in law for that matter. I remember hugging my grand mother in law and she too was taken aback, but  I could see her grin and I knew that she felt special. Some point I hugged my aunt in law, and I actually felt rebuffed. Like I hit a wall, on a speeding cycle. For a while I was hurt, until a very dear friend (another V) told me that its ok. Some people cannot handle affection, but that does not mean we stop dispersing it.
I know hug randomly freely, lovingly and fiercely. Everybody. Whether I like that person or not. And I dont like too many people. But that one hug sets the soul free, opens up hidden love, frees ansgt, and makes the person happy, even it it's for a day.
And the one person whose hugs I really look forward to are "V's and N'ss the girls who set a closed part of my spirits flying.

Sounds

 I was taking a nap (the most important part of my day) and woke up hearing really wierd noises. Something like twinges, growls and pings. When i found out what it was, i could not help but go back to my childhood. We lived in this sprawling compound full of coconut trees swishing and swaying in the breeze. The sounds from my childhood are shouts from us kids, running to catch a "chor", blowing the whistle if one was a "ploice", the bang of a "dabba" when it was thrown for dabba aispice (no not wrong spelling, thats how we pronounced it). Sometimes when we were not feeling that boisterous and rampageous, we would sit around telling stories. Mostly scary ones, involving murderous vengeful ghosts. and i remember at one such time, the wind was playing noise effects, swaying and wooing like a banshee, keeping tune with the scary story, and one branch (technically a leaf ) from a really tall palm tree, fell zooming down and hit me smack, right on my thigh. Since it was the high point of the scary story and we were all going oooh and aahh with round eyes and tingling ears, and I lept up in pain and fear and the others in total alarm.i think the younger ones scampered straight off till they reached their homes.
Compared to our childhood sounds, I got up hearing my son's childhood sounds. Pings and shouts of "die" and virtual football screams. Nope! i am not complainging or bemoaning the fact that our childhood was better than theirs. I am only comparing sounds.
I dont know about others, but i love the sound of "hugs". There are so many different types of hugs, tight ones, loving ones, mom to baby ones, consolatory ones, passionate, the"i have yet not forgiven u" hug! and each of them have a sound. Soft gentle sounds which make u feel good and make your heart beat warm, passionate ones which make your blood run, loving ones which calm you down. They all have sounds, soft, squishy, crunchy, delightful sounds.
I cannot talk about sounds and not talk about Oreo, our beagle pup. He rushes to you like a bullet, leaps up and starts thrusting his tongue out in a lusty rush to lick your face. And the sounds he emits while doing so are hilarious. Moans, groans and insistent mutters.
Kanak once wrote- "silence is a sound". It was too profound. and i realise this when the electricity fails and we are left with no lights, not fans and a stillness which translate to a sound. it buzzes in our ear.
Sounds are our inner peace and agitation.