Friendship 101

We irrespective of our caste - creed - belief (including all idiosyncrasies) are simple friendly human beings. Throughout our lifetime (still finite I am afraid!!) we keep on accumulating "friends" in all kind of shapes and sizes. Most prominent of them are

1. Childhood friends – Friends who are just kind of extensions of your childhood with whom you have shared food, bunked classes and partaken into all kind of adventures- some still unknown to the parents – thanks to these friends! You may be separated by geography – sometimes language and what not – but still these friends will talk to you – address you in the same way they used to do ages ago. You had literally stopped growing for this amiable folks.
2. Adolescent Friends – First statutory warning should be the fact that these were times when you were driven by hormones and whatever you did – you had to show your rebellious side. Else you are not part of the ADOLESCENT GANG. Some of your buddies in this category might even turn out to be your nemesis as well. But those had spent their raging teens plus 3 years of those exciting times along with you – had tolerated you and some had seen you butt naked. They may still be on your side with those visions haunting them.
3. Professional Friends – Well that phrase may sound like alliteration but generally you do tend to collect your share of messes as you mature as a professional. And these are your friends who had either helped you clean those “messes” up or may have ignored them altogether. Those who had used your messes against you – either you had gotten back to them till now or waiting to do that. We can discuss those hurtful souls when we discuss Enemy 101 topic.
4. Need-based friends – Well not to be confused with the adage “A friend in need is a friend indeed”. The adage has actually been taken from one of the morals listed in an old Aesop’s fable. The adage generally applies to all activities based on points 1, 2 and 3 above. Need-based friends are by definition that only. Being egregious people – during our adult lives we pick up a lot of acquaintances like as follows:

                                                              i.      People we had met / will meet in various social sites – community gatherings

                                                            ii.      People we HAD TO meet because of our kids e.g. parents of other kids

                                                          iii.      People who we have interactions based on a mutually symbiotic relationship (sometime parasitic without the knowledge of the host) e.g. your neighbors etc.

                                                          iv.       People with some motives where you can be either a part or target of that.

Generally these are the friends we mostly interact on a more frequent basis and sometimes too much exposure to these friends can be injurious to our mind. Another very important trait of these types of friends is that as the dealings are need based – the element of detachment leads to almost zero emotional quotient in this type of friendship. In a nut shell – you can always un-friend these friends any time you like and vice versa.

5. Kind Hearted – Good Natured people – Please remember that these are “universal friends” and cannot be part of any of the above category. When the God sent these people to touch your life you can really understand what being human feels like. These universal friends can be

                                                              i.      A simple elderly couple – who can provide with the best emotional support to you – right up there with the ones you have received from your own parents.

                                                            ii.      A quiet – non FB-ish pretty young couple who can give you the best of the gifts when you are least expecting the same.

                                                          iii.      A family shopping in a grocery shop walking up to you to say hello when you are least expecting the same and both your family and that family behaving like an extended family in matter of minutes.

                                                          iv.       People who has the capability to absorb your pain and become your agony aunt and uncle whenever you need them to be.

                                                            v.      People who in spite of their short comings strive harder to put that genuine smile on your face when you really need one.

These good people cannot be just termed as friends but they become your whole world and can replace all the other types of friendships especially the Need-based types. So when it’s time to count your blessings you generally will tend to count these Awesome Folks as part of that whole process.

I sincerely hope that my quick and dirty treatise on friendship leads to more real world and less virtual friends for the readers.

Caveat: All views and expressions are not just the Author’s leisurely piped visions. They may have some links to person still alive (and ready to throw a punch or two)

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE

“What do you want to be”? A perpetual question that I answered all though my childhood. All my relative whether they were paternal or maternal or even just family friends were asking the same question again and again. There was actually fixed questionnaire that most of them had from the time I was 3 years old and started going to a local kindergarten. It always started with “what is your name”. Most of the times I used to make up a lot of funny professions and told them ambitions like “engineer”, pilot , “doctor” etc depending on my moods. When mood was bad I just used to tell them things like “Ask my mom”, “bus conductor”, “crematorium dead pusher”. Well, I think you guys must have known the kind of bashing I used to receive from my parents. Now that I have started to regress back to my childhood days sometimes all these small things is what I remember.

I was born in an academic family. My father a scientist and mom was a teacher. And as I was the only one I had to go through most of the childhood rigors and expectations alone. I loved it actually. May be I was a loner. A very interesting thing happened when I was studying on class six. I was alone at house in a weekday noon. The resident domestic help was somewhere nearby to our house chatting up with his kin. It was the month of May when generally all types of irritating exams were over and I was actually engrossed in my small Pentium 2 PC writing a bit of my homemade BASIC code as well playing some video games. I heard a crashing noise at the end of the long verandah which actually was the connecting passage between all the rooms within our E-shaped duplex in the south of the city. I was afraid, thinking of the sound and kept quiet. Being all of 12 years old and a very active reader of all action cartoons, I just got hold of the only weapon that I could find and tiptoeing I went ahead to check the source of the sound. My vaunted weapon was a small cricket bat that I was given recently as I was admitted to one of the umpteen cricket training schools in South Kolkata. I mainly came from the end of the passage where we had our living room adjacent to the kitchen. Moving towards the kitchen I can now seen pieces of glass littering the passage right in front of the kitchen door. It was actually a glass flower vase that was kept there on the stool and must fallen and broken in pieces when some one have tried to use the window on the passage beside it to force in. The grill on the window was precisely nipped with some tool leaving out a square hole within the framework.

Reading only cartoons have always earned me the ire of my parents and other people. I was totally addicted to all of them starting from Amazing Spiderman, The Hulk etc and used to love animated films – although there were not many in those days. And one more reason for my parents distaste for my penchant was actually the cost factor. I used to really scour through lot of bookstalls for the latest cartoon strips and sometimes they used to cost a bomb for my government employee parents. As unfortunately two times in my school my parents had been summoned up. My teachers always complained that instead of reading worthwhile matters like text books I used to carry my whole gamut of cartoon and animated treasure along with me to school. Well, what I could have done, I wanted to be like the Hulk – remember my father was a scientist. And sometimes when he really used to give me lots of “do you know” lectures I always used to compare him with the Hulk’s aka Bruce Banner’s monster dad. But then unfortunately for me I never turned green. The only part of my body that used to change color to my utmost shame was the pair of ears when they were boxed mercilessly by my parents. But then I was finding solace in the fact that, Hulk was not a “hulk” when he was a kid. And secretly I used to think that I will eventually turn into a “hulk” when I grew up. Some wishful thinking I had.

After looking at the square for the first time I had the feeling that something is not right. This is not the neighborhood cat trying to steal a joint. Or even some of the street urchins from the nearby slums on some mischief. It registered in my small brain that something much bigger than anything I might have come across is actually happening. I remembered overhearing a conversation between my parents about burglars on prowl and my parents were really worried about the fact that I was always alone for about 3-4 hours during noon time, now that my exams are over. Suddenly I heard a sound like something being dragged along the floor of the living room. Clutching the bat tightly with my sweaty palms I hid just behind our big double door refrigerator, trying to be calm.

A very frail boy of about my age and with mole on the nose, came out the living room dragging in what looked like a make-shift sack made out of the bed sheet that adorns the divan in our living room. He put that sack in front of the holed window and gestured to some outside the same way teacher in our lower kindergarten use to teach us numbers. And the gesture signaled three. I was not sure whether that meant three minutes or three to go. But I was actually looking at the sack. It was loosely tied. And consisted of whatever was there in living room including my father’s astray. I was happy about that part as my father always gave me the bad looks whether I got near that thing. Looking at the sack more intently from my hidden position, I saw a small portion of the Incredible Hulk comic book peeping out. Hmmm… so, Baba had actually hidden the comic book under the living room divan bed sheet and was sitting on that whole day when I was actually combing the house for the same. This was the latest issue where the Bruce the Hulk was actually trying to use Captain America’s body tissue to control the powers within him.

There are some moments in your life which actually makes you do things you never would have done. The next few moments in my life were like that. I picked up my fathers Gillette shaving gel canister from above the fridge and started shaking vigorously. While doing that with my right hand and holding the bat in my left I moved just like I saw Hira – our cat do when she moves in to steal fish. I did not go into the living room, but waited patiently crouching near the door. I again heard the familiar sound of fabric scraping the mosaic floor. I think this time it must be designer curtains that was being used. As the sound came nearer I moved to left of the door in order use the door frame as a small cover. I can see the boy perspiring. He was wearing nothing but just a black brief. Just when he was about the approach the door, I flipped the lever of the shaving gel canister to full flow and jumped in front of him without a noise. I will never forget the look in his eyes. It was sheer terror. Without wasting any more time I aimed the nozzle of the shaving gel towards his eyes and pressed with full might and sideways so that I can hit both the eyes. The scream he gave was really something which again I will never forget. Catching hold of his eyes he was actually writhing on the ground with pain. Hearing his piercing scream, the domestic help Ganesh came running along with the kin that he was chatting just outside our buildings entrance. Now that the rush of adrenalin was gone, I almost fainted in Ganesh’s arms.

Sir…. Sir… SIRRR!! My orderly was now bellowing in my ears. I was snapped out of my afternoon reverie. Looked at the watch and found it was edging towards 4 PM. Me, Punit Narayan Chakroborthy, the Asst. Commissioner of Police, Kolkata now would have to go to the Writer’s Building to meet the politicians for the upcoming general election. I have to report the state security brief to the state home minister Bolai Gope. He knows me. The effect of pure Gillete shaving foam for the eyes is not that good. And Bolai now wears RayBan sunglasses always to hide the discolored pupils. He won the last state assembly election last time while contesting it as an under trial. So I do have to put up a salute for him and address him with reverence. But then he knows me and I think is still afraid about my capability to change colors as in the Hulk. Wandering about how it would feel to change color again I started on towards my scheduled meeting.

Life of a DBA

It was a dark and stormy night
The winds rampaged asunder;
To the world was born a DBA
It was a miracle, a wonder!

As he grew up, a thoughtful child
He recorded every session,
Of life, of love, of moments true,
Every guilt and confession.

His parents spotted his charming habit
Of cloning instances;
For he had the temper of his father
And the face of his mother
With minor version changes.

Every sysdate of his early life
Was spent in performance tuning,
His superior user environment parameters
Had the women swooning.

For he was handsome, charming and nice
And his pockets were full of money.
His cost based optimizer ensured
That his days were always sunny.

Then once day his calling came
And he leaped to join the forces,
Of the exalted men and women
Who make Tables, indexes and sequences.

He copied data from schema to schema
And cleared the buffer cache.
His queries never had full table scans
His joins were always hash.

Thus progressed the perfect life
Till he was sent onsite,
The world proclaimed the mighty DBA
Had finally arrived.

This is where our DBA
Was laptoped and anointed
He was on call for a week each month,
His slumber was to be disappointed.

For every time he dozed off at night
The environment would act on its whim;
His troubleshooting skills were tested
SLA's were second nature to him.

Loading data, procedures and packages
Synonymns triggers and indexes,
He partitioned the diskspace and granted privileges
The watermark levels were never in excess.

Thus our DBA labored on
With only his work in sight,
He never noticed the pretty programmer
Seated to his right.

They never met, they never spoke
Though one cube did they infest
For when she turned to him, he was just a number:
Issue, Remedy or Change Request.

Then one day, our DBA
Set his eyes on her and rested his case,
Love fluttered like a silent beast
And filled up his tablespace.

He queried after her alright
He committed with autosave,
In his heart's rowid
Her name did he engrave.

But she implored him to rollback
For she was besotted to another,
He dealt with pointers, methods and classes
A Sun certified Java Developer.

In grief, he tried to kill v$session
And delete the audit trails,
Meanwhile he prepared to format the hard drive
For they say it never fails.

Our story ends here so far
For when database there was no more,
Our DBA's contract was terminated
They sent him packing back offshore.

Disgrace by J.M. Coetzee

Set in post-apartheid South Africa, Nobel Prize winning author J.M. Coetzee’s second novel ‘Disgrace’ won the Booker Prize in 1999, the same year in which it was published. Such illustrious credentials and sheer curiosity prompted me to pick up the book from a local book-store a few months ago. What I did not expect was a hard-hitting, no-bones-spared story of a Cape Town University College professor, David Lurie, whose life would take a sudden dip into the murky waters of ethical conflicts, post-apartheid violence, and insecurity, finally sinking into a vast lake of disgrace before emerging stronger and more resilient.

David Lurie, who has long been planning to write a chamber opera on the life of the poet Byron, is fifty-two, divorced, lonely and bored. His classes evoke no response from his students and teaching is a mere means of livelihood. A chance meeting with an attractive student in his class leads to an affair, which upon discovery provokes a suspension from the university on grounds of misconduct. As the nNews spreads round the university campus and makes it to the newspapers, the disgraced professor leaves town to join his young daughter Lucy in the town of Salem where she has chosen to live alone and raise a farm. Life in the farm is sedentary and un-eventful until an incident of unimaginable terror rips apart their lives. Father and daughter are attacked by a band of natives who rob the house, nearly kill him while raping the daughter and leaving her pregnant.

As they struggle to pick up the remaining bits of their lives, David Lurie is tormented by Lucy’s indifference to the incident. She knows the culprits and yet neither she nor her neighbors try to denounce them. As the father of a daughter who has been subject to such a heinous crime, David Lurie is helpless because he was unable to protect her then and avenge the atrocity now. Instead, he watches impatiently, as life gets back to normal in the farm and Lucy decides to go ahead and give birth to the child she is carrying.

Disgrace portrays the angst ridden world of the white population in post-apartheid South Africa. Once the powerful class, they are now the centre of a backlash which they cannot withstand. David Lurie’s inability to come to terms with the power shift and his daughter’s acceptance of the ways of the new country is the totem pole of the novel. The novel examines the sentiments of the native population that is friendly with the white on personal terms but has no generic empathy for the community. Coetzee’s novels typically push the protagonist with their back to the wall only to watch them fight or come to terms with the humiliation and indignation of their circumstances. In this novel, Lucy’s rapist turns out to be the fifteen year old brother-in-law of her neighbor. After the incident, the neighbor offers to marry Lucy even though he has two other wives. He wishes to own her land in dowry and in exchange, protect her from such miscreants in the future. David Lurie who has sufficient money to send his daughter to Holland where she can go back to a normal civilized life has to reconcile with this unusual situation when his daughter accepts the offer.

The analogy between strange twists and turns of David Lurie's life and that of the poet Byron influences the opera that he is composing. Where he once planned to write about the eternal love between Byron and his mistress Teresa, he now depicts pain and agony as they separate and their desires remain unfulfilled. As Allegra, Byron’s five year daughter lies dying of malaria and cries for her father, David Lurie’s own helplessness and frustration at his daughter’s condition creeps in front.

Disgrace is an excellent novel written in a mere two hundred and twenty pages. Coetzee’s deep understanding of Romantic literature and lucid language ooze the right emotions and provide the perfect setting for the story of a father and daughter who learn to put the past behind, after their lives have been shattered by disgrace.

Daylight Savings Time

Daylight Savings Time it has been argued has many benefits in countries in the northern hemisphere where advanced economy and work conditions demand such an adjustment. Suddenly, you wake up one morning at 7am and realize that its after all only 6am and go back to sleep or worse wake up at 7am to realize that it is 8am and you are horribly late. Over the years, people have got used to it and accepted it. But it is not so in India. In a country which spans across three time zones – literally Manipur is to the east of Bangladesh which is half an hour ahead of us and Gujarat is below Pakistan which is half an hour behind IST – we have shown lethargy akin to inertia in implementing this concept. So what would happen if suddenly one day we implemented DST?

The ruling party would lose the next general election. Minorities would move to Supreme Court crying foul over discrimination because many would have never seen a digital watch in their lifetime. The government would pass a law that by March 31st everyone should buy HMT manufactured DST compliant watches which the CPI(M) would oppose as being as being pro-America. Mamata Banerjee would declare a 24 hour bandh in Kolkata which would be supported by all opposition parties. Meanwhile, Titan would protest over the deal to grant HMT the right to manufacture DST compliant watches. Several MPs would resign and go to jail over the DST contract scam.

When DST would actually be implemented, there would be a grand launch party where Shah Rukh Khan would dance to the songs of his latest movie and say “Kuch aur wish karo, DST karo!” and Amitabh Bachchan would hold a platinum wrist watch in his hands and smile “Do DST ke boondh, zindagi ke liye” The annual Filmfare awards would be held twice a year on DST implementation days which Aamir Khan would not attend because he never believed in such awards while Arundhati Roy and Medha Patkar would stand outside the auditorium and protest that DST would harm the environment. Ekta Kapoor would modify the script of Kasauti Zindagi Ki where Prerna would marry Bajaj in one DST phase and Anurag in the other. Rohit Bal, Neeta Lulla and Sabyasachi Mukherjee would design a DST line of clothes for the next fashion week where Shahid Kapur and Saif Ali Khan would walk the ramp while Kareena Kapoor would cheer from the sidelines. Dev Anand would make a new movie called “Love in DST” starring a 16 year old girl who was born when 6am became 7am.

Our day and night cricket matches would be scheduled by DST and senior cricketers would not play test matches citing injury, while junior captains would declare that only young cricketers whose bodies can adjust to DST will be a part of the team. The hockey and football federations would protest that in addition to giving preferential treatment to cricket, DST was another means to make these sports unpopular. Sania Mirza would be sued for wearing a DST compliant watch sporting the Indian tricolor that would fall from her wrist during a match. Leander Paes and Mahesh Bhupati would once again team up to face the challenge of playing under DST circumstances. The Indian Olympic Association would declare that with DST, India is now truly world standard, and therefore demand that ‘pittu’ be made an Olympic sport.

The common man would be totally confused because Doordarshan would forget to adjust the clock as per DST while the private channels would remember. Aaj Tak would interview people about how they felt about DST. Vodafone and Airtel would face a network outage on DST days and nobody would know the time. Anil Ambani would buy a Rs. 10,000crore DST clock that he would install outside his corporate office and name it after Tina. The Mumbai Stock Exchange would lose an hour on DST days and people would howl in distress because they lost crores in a bullish market. Government employees would demand and be granted overtime in winter. The chief agenda in the opposition party’s election manifesto would be to have two new national holidays on DST implementation days. Well, thank God! No one’s thought of DST as yet!

Disclaimer:
This piece was inspired during a conversation with the great Oirpus. Not only is this piece dedicated to him, all litigators are requested to contact Oirpus.

The return of the prodigal (sic) administrator

Oh my god!! It is cloudy and snowing heavily in Minneapolis. I have some work to do. But the key board is trying to bite my fingers. My mind is lingering. It is lingering over so many things. But then when I came to this blog by ordinary people with extraordinary senses / feelings, I felt alive again. I can type now. Thanks to all of you for listening/reading my gibberish. But I am back and this time I am sure about it..

On a saner thought, great show guys... keep it up..

ON A LEECHY TRAIL….

One of the brightest members of the trek club – The Initiator had an idea to conduct a trip to this unexplored and inaccessible place. He shared his vision with another bright member – The Dependable, and that is how idea was born and as is said great achievements are a result of great ideas and rest they say is history…..

For conduction of the Trek cum Camping cum Rock Climbing cum crossing the river activities a well know mountaineering firm(Chandannagar Mountaineering Association) was roped for technical assistance – Camping, Rock Climbing, Crossing the River sessions. There were a lot of speculations and hindrances and eve of our departure came closer. Initially it was rain lashing the Eastern and North-Eastern part of the country, when the weather started to look good few days before we were about to start another bomb dropped – the remarks made by a privately owned Delhi based FM channel regarding Indian Idol -3 Prashant Tamang’s Nepali origin. It spread like fire and it rocked our expectation’s boat so hard that it was nearly capsizing. But we put our fears and pessimism aside and started for the even which we have been waiting for.

Finally 18 of us made to the Sealdah station, to board the train to New Jalpaiguri. The author was in constant touch with the support team which had already reached the source of the trek a day ahead regarding the situation at that place. Lot of the dust and panic created had already settled down by the time we reached New Jalpaiguri Station. The Vehicles were already waiting for us to take us from the hustle-bustle of the Siliguri town. Off we went to our destination for the day- Aritar. It’s a small village in Sikkim at 5050 ft. We camped at the banks of very enchanting and beautiful lake “Lambpokhri” (meaning: lamb – long, pokhri – lake). It was a great experience and we matched the occasion with a huge enthusiasm. Our guides from CMA told us about the camping discipline, how to pack our rucksacks, protection against leeches and intricacies of trekking. Evening was to be remembered with Swinging dance from all of us, a calm walk across the “Lambpokhri” to the silent Monastery and the night was dedicated to our very own renowned singer “Kishore Kumar”.


Spending the night in a tent was a first experience for most of us; excitement was in the air as we all receded to our tents. No pillows for the night-Need to sleep tight inside the sleeping bag.

Next day morning some of us (early-risers) went to watch the sunrise from watch towers nearby while rest (lazy-bones) of us went for a warming up session. We then had a quick breakfast not to mention people attended their nature-calls at a record time. Then we were ready to go ahead with the trek.

We started very slowly – we were able to trek only 1.5 km in the first hour but eventually we gained speed and then we were doing well even in rough patches. Few of us had a leechy welcome. We rested at a few points during the trek to appreciate the nature and study the local customs and their daily life.

By 1 pm in the afternoon we reached Mulkharka, a village in West Bengal at a height of about 8550 ft. We were about to go ahead with camping in one of the rice fields but leeches had already made life difficult. Finally we decided to stay in a villager’s house that had 3 spare rooms. The sense of humanity at this height touched us deep inside. They a quite a few toddlers and few grown up children; who became a part of our group. It was a great evening for us all we sang beside the camp fire singing Nepali, Bengali and Hindi songs. Some of us even took to tap a few steps. Meanwhile leeches had done a good job to toast the evening with our blood. Nights were cold and had a lot to offer. An innumerable lot of pranks were played if written; this article would take seven nights and seven days to complete.


In the morning around 4-30 am we started for the “Mulkharka Lake” , its one of the places where you would be able to see a reflection of the Kanchendzonga range on the lake. It’s a sight to behold. Just as we were about to start for the lake we saw a wonderful sight the clouds uncovered the Kanchendzonga range and white peaks were visible. There is only one word describe the scene –“Exhilarating”. This sight motivated us a lot and initiated a jump and eagerness to see the reflection on the lake.


Things were not rosy for all of us. Few of us who started late had a terrible experience. Looking at terrain and less visibility in the wee hours of morning added to it the cloud cover which decreased the visibility even further got lost in the way. Basically there was no trek route as such it was steep climb. It was a very frightening experience with leeches crawling around making its way to your legs and you have lost the way in between. Mobile phones came out and help was sought. Finally one of the guides came and ended the ordeal- showed the correct path to the lake.

Once we reached the lake there was a hide and seek game being played by the clouds which alluded some us the glimpse of the Kanchendzonga peak. But the experience was very fascinating. There was a lot of shutterbugs clicking near the lake. Once we reached our base in Mulkharka, it was “Remove all Leeches” that was being telecasted in all channels. I mean everybody had a leech as souvenir. Everybody has been struck by 10-20 leeches at least.

Few of our guides did the first aid and attended to all of us though they too had been beaten badly. We were in for a long haul then – attend to our injuries, have breakfast and take the way back to Aritar and then to Reshi. The trek back to Aritar had a look of “Come what may”, after our leech ordeal everybody was tough enough to take up any challenges. On the way to Aritar we met another canine friend aptly named “Tuffy” and he followed us upto the resort where we had light refreshments. After refreshment we board a vehicle to reach Reshi.

The name of the place “Reshi” come from the river “Reshi” which flows through the banks of the town. We went to the Green Valley camp in Reshi Valley. The path was through dense grassland which made the walk even more thrilling. Finally when we reached the resort it was a delightful sight. We couldn’t believe that we were supposed to camp beside the river.

Before the trainers from CMA called us for rock climbing most us had quick splash at the Reshi River. The water was cold but once one gets used to it was a very enjoyable. After a quick bath we went for the rock climbing session, the rock was not high enough but it gave us a good opportunity to learn the basics as most of us were novices in this field. Few of us went in deep thought by gazing in the river. It helps in introspection of our deeds.

As the sun went down festivities followed, a camp fire was made and we all sat beside it singing and cracking jokes. Eventually we shifted to a more appealing place – The watch tower in the resort. Without saying “Antakshari” followed with some special clues and conditions. It was really of great fun, we enjoyed to the hilt. As night set it, few of went to tents few decided to spent the night in the watch tower itself.

Early morning, we woke up with a heavy heart. After all, the fun filled days were coming to an end. We still wanted to make the most of our last day. We had a crossing the river session for us and if the river was ravaging Reshi it was sure going to a awesome experience. We rushed to the spot where the session was to held.

Now it was time to have the rush of blood run through the brain. It was a fantastic experience for all of us. First few moments hanging from rope gives one a big “High”. Then one has to cross the river monkey crawling while the river rages below. The sense accomplishment is at its all time high once one crosses the river. Few of were so ecstatic that they made it twice across. Finally it was turn of the trainers to show their skill – they were terrific.

After the session it was time for river splashing and lunch. Then it was time for us to leave this heavenly abode and proceed to our home. We had a saddened feeling while leaving, most of us wanted to stay on for another day but that was not to be. On our way back we stopped at Rangpo and few of bought Tea from the famous Temi gardens of Sikkim. As we left Rangpo we found ourselves admiring the effervescent and meandering Teesta. By evening we reached New Jalapaiguri from where we took our train to reach Sealdah.

There were few things worth remembering namely “gaon walaon”, “maine sab paudhe me pani pata diya hai" and above all as commented by one of our very own treekers “maine do raat se soya nahi hai”.