Tale of Two Cities

Tweets this afternoon have gone on a creative overdrive. Sample these:

• sunayana Great. Now searching for #bandh gives both #hyderabad and #bangalore bandh updates. How convenient

• aksh_effect: I hope #Bangalore stops honoring the ancient Egyptian custom of burying prominent actors with some of their admirers.

• anand_bala #wtf #Bangalore The art of rumour mongering TimesNow style: "which reportedly could have lead to death of few"

• impiyush #vishnuvardhan died, office off, m confused m happy or sad :( as i cant utilize the time outside...

We are sitting in the office, focussing less on Windows7 and more on the windows that over look the street. So far the road seems peaceful, traffic seems normal, buses and autos are plying... but the sense of dread builds up every time one peeks at the TV news playing in the lobby. Those who could leave have gone, the others are packing for a long night at work. Or maybe a comfortable ride home at 6PM. We don't know yet.

All this fear and anxiety because an actor died a natural death. No bombs, no assassination, no conspiracy.

If you watch TV, you'd think Bangalore is already up in flames. Unheard of channels like the local TV9 are leading with sensational headlines, hoping this is to them what Gulf War meant to CNN. Established channels like Times Now are reporting deaths in police firing, without even a hint of proof. In the most irresponsible manner, they are fuelling rumor instead of quelling it.

In the absence of any genuine terror attacks, creepy serial killers or bomb blasts, the TV News people are clutching at every straw to exceed last-minute targets for 2009. So every rumor is announced as fact, only to be retracted later; every fly-swat is the next big crisis to hit humanity. The death of Vishnuvardhan, a popular actor in Bangalore, brings back memories of the riots that followed Dr.Rajkumar's death. Both were natural deaths, so naturally, people expected their fans to react by turning the city into a funeral pyre.

Some are even calling for all New Year celebrations to be called off. Already all shows of '3 Idiots' have been cancelled across the city (along with couple of screens that bothered showing any other film).

But the situation is hardly cataclysmic yet. At least not until we grant the 24X7 News guys their New Year wish.

Nowadays, seems like there is no difference whether it is Al-Qaeda or the local actor's Fan Club. Either one of them can come between you and your family, without the least bit of provocation.

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On a related note, it hurts to see how Hyderabad, a most beautiful and bubbly city, is being raped by the ones who profess to love it the most. I pray they leave her in peace soon.

Weekend Getaway: Galibore is anything but a bore

On Gandhi Jayanti, our team decided to celebrate the end of recession with a team outing. In keeping with Gandhiji's focus on simplicity, we opted to camp under the stars in the jungles around Bangalore. Also to save money, just in case the recession was not over. After weeks of market research (ah! home ground for we are, after all, the marketing team), we zeroed in on Galibore fishing camp on the banks of river Cauvery.

The camp itself is a beautiful array of 12 cottages nestled among huge, green trees. There is nothing for miles around—no plastic, no vehicles, no food, not even roads. There’s no better venue for a reunion with Mother Nature.

We hired an outfit called Outback adventurers to help us in the wilderness. These guys were quite good although for some reason or other, 50% of the planned activities were scrapped. We did get our money back, so I'll try them again. They were ready for us with the first activity of the day—rafting—as soon as we hopped off the bus.

Getting into the life-jackets we felt adventurous already. After a brief safety speech by Sanjeev, our expert navigator, the real thrills began. A couple of rapids tested our synchronization and strength. No one fell overboard, which was kind of disappointing! A good memory was the 30 minutes we spent dunked (Swimming is too sporty a word for it) in the river, just relaxing. It was also useful practice in case we did go overboard. Drenched and happy, we completed the trip in about 90 minutes.

Back at the camp, the aroma of delicious chicken curry, spicy chhole and piping hot rasam beckoned us. Still in our wet clothes, we attacked the yummiest food we have had in a long time. Stuffed to the gills, we hung ourselves out on the hammocks to dry. After a brief rest, we took off on a short hike into the woods. Unfortunately, they couldn’t fix the mountain bikes so that activity was canceled. Went on a coracle ride instead, during which we scared a crocodile (yeah, right!). The crooner in our group filled the evening air with John Denver’s “Leaving on a Jet Plane” while the rest of us croaked “Row row row your boat, gently down the stream…”

The rest of the evening we lolled on the banks of the river, enjoying some barbequed chicken and salads, sat around a bonfire playing juvenile games from college. A round of “Truth and Dare” and “Two Truths and a Lie” revealed some dark and disturbing secrets. A blood oath prevents me from revealing the juicy bits here. Soon the frivolous banter turned into heated discussions about love, life and everything in between, which went on late into the night. We gained a lot of new perspectives and probably examined a few beliefs we had never questioned before. Basically, we were drunk.

By midnight, we crawled into our small tent and were off to Snoreville in 5 minutes. The weather was cool but not cold, cloudy but not rainy. They said generally the heat at the camp is sweltering, so I guess we were just lucky. After a peaceful sleep in the tents, woke up only at 6 to the sound of “Trekking at 7, saar. Please have tea and be ready!”.

This time we went up a short hill. We struggled in our Nikes and Reeboks while our guide leapt like a mountain goat in Hawai chappals. The top gave a breathtaking view of the meandering river. It was so calm and peaceful, we felt like staying up forever (also to avoid ambling down those slippery rocks again!). The official lens-men took this time to capture some artistic shots on their digital SLRs, especially one of us being led down the hill by none other than MG him-(err.. her) self. See the pic.

After all this exertion (especially for someone, uh… healthier, like me), breakfast never tasted better.They had the freshest bread and monster omelletes and to-die-for chutneys and... you get the picture, yeah!

Then it was time to leave. We bid a sad goodbye to the river, promising to return with our families soon. We thanked the staff (in cash AND kind) for the excellent service. The return journey was noisier, now that we were better friends than before. Singing and chatting, Bangalore came sooner than expected. Except for the final no-road stretch (about 10KM), the other 90KM has good road. Just the mad truckers and village-routes on Kanakapura Road keep you from relaxing.

We put ourselves back into managing release deadlines and top-lines, bottom-lines, knowing that the only "water-droplet on a leaf" we'd see for a long time now would be the Windows 7 desktop wallpaper. We said a silent prayer for the good people who dedicate their lives to maintaining such oasis of sanity and nature, away from barren information super-highways where Robotomized IT-wallahs like us journey without a destination.

As with every escape to nature, it's the getting back that feels like being 'recaptured' by prison guards.