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The Kenyan Safari

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For any wildlife enthusiast, the holy grail of watching wildlife is Africa — be it the Masai Mara, the Serengeti, the Kruger, or any of the other famous reserves. Visiting one of them had long been on our bucket list. The opportunity finally arose when my cousin (nephew), Srikanth (“Siri”), called one day to say he was signing up for a safari along with his old colleague, “Coach” Sampath. Anita and I jumped at the idea and signed up too. The Prep I had been to Tanzania in 2012 to climb Kilimanjaro, so I knew the drill — though I still had to brush up and update myself. We got our mandatory yellow fever vaccinations (administered at only one place in Bengaluru), sorted our travel insurance, and picked up a good pair of binoculars — we went with Nikon Monarch M5 10x42s. The Kenya visa, called an eTA, turned out to be a simple process. With all that done, we were set to fly to Nairobi via Mumbai. Some of us already knew each other, while others didn’t, so we met up for a morning w...
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A piece of Cloth? A Flag means more.

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  It gives me a deep sense of pride and belonging when I see or hold the Tricolour. Is it just a piece of coloured cloth? A mere symbol? No. It represents something far deeper — our sense of belonging, our pride in this land, its people, its culture and its heritage; the land we proudly call our own. This year, that feeling carries a little more weight. India marks its 80th year of independence — eight decades since a nation of a billion stories chose to write its own future. Eighty years since a flag smuggled across oceans, sewn in secret, and raised in defiance finally flew over a free land without asking anyone's permission. It seems like the right moment to step back and ask a simple question: why does a flag move us the way it does? To answer that, we have to go back much further than 80 years. Before Nations, There were "Standards or laanchanas" Long before flags meant countries, they meant "follow me" or "this ground is ours." The earliest known...
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RE Himalayan Odyssey - Nubra ride

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  🔊 Click here to listen to “The Himalayan dream” It all began with a general comment from my weekend riding brother, Suresh, that he wanted to do a ride in the Himalayas — specifically from Leh. Royal Enfield Motors Limited (REML), makers of the famous Royal Enfield motorcycles (I own two of REML bikes — a Super Meteor 650 and a Himalayan 450), runs an annual calendar event called "The Himalayan Odyssey" (HO). That breakfast chat over idli, vada and kaapi during a routine catch-up led me to suggest that he tries it out. It's generally a twenty-day trip, which I couldn't afford given work commitments. So I approached Mr. B Govindarajan, CEO of REML, for his suggestion, and he graciously directed me to Mr. Adarsh Saxena. A quick call helped us understand that HO now runs in multiple legs called the " Satellite rides ", and he recommended the Nubra Circuit to us. The timing and duration were in a sweet spot for me. I mentioned to Suresh that we could do it t...
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Location: Nubra Valley, 194401
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My Hindi and me

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Most people of my generation in South India were probably first exposed to Hindi with the advent of television. Roads used to wear a deserted look on the days serials like Mahabharat and Ramayan were telecast. Since not every house had a TV set, it also became a kind of neighbourhood social gathering. So, our beginnings with Hindi — certainly not colloquial Hindi — started with hearing people addressed as “Mahoday”, “Shrimaan”, and such lofty terms! My Early Days with Hindi My formal introduction to Hindi began in high school, where it was one of the optional subjects — perhaps what was then called the “third language”. Sri G.T. Narasimhachar (GTN) was entrusted with the unenviable task of teaching a bunch of thoroughly disinterested students. My mother, however, was well-versed in Hindi and had read classics like Godaan. Her attempts to teach me Hindi mostly resulted in my understanding the story in the textbook without actually understanding the language ! I still remember o...
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