The Santro and the mango tree

Inspiration struck.And it was from the most obvious source - U2.

I was listening to the U2 song "Where the streets have name"and reading the lyrics (Yes, I still cannot make out the lyrics by just listening) and the background of the song (To read it on Wikipedia click here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Where_The_Streets_Have_No_Name).

Being the extremely direct, analytical, non-abstract and left brained Libran that I am - - I thought. Surely there would be a more solid, un-convulted, straight forward meaning to the song - - God's kingdom? Africa?? Nicaragua??? Managua???? If we are looking at abstract interpretations for streets that have no names, then can someone please add my 'career' to the list too.

But seriously folks, come on - how difficult is it really to find a street that actually has no name. It didn't seem too difficult. After all, every city has its share of MG Road, Vidhan Soudha road and versions of Bandstands where people kiss and fondle and then kiss some more and then remove their...err - I think I am digressing.

Getting back on track - thus began my quest - the quest to find a street that Bono was so desperately telling us about - a street that has no name.

I filled up the petrol tank, put my Santro in gear and began my search. As I negotiated the Nagars and the Soudhas and the streets named after distant cousins of people who were once famous I suddenly realized something - no, I mean besides the fact that I was completely lost - I had found the place!!!

There was not a soul there, and only a soul would actually come to that place. There were no sign boards, no names, no surnames, no statues, no bird droppings on the statues, no protests!! I had finally found the place.

This street actually had no name and it was impossible that anyone would come here and name it. That such a place should exist only 18 Kms from Majestic, Bangalore's Central Bus stand, did struck me as odd as first. But then it was right there - right in front of me!!

It was while I was getting high on this stupendous discovery of gigantic proportions that I heard it first. It first seemed like a distant voice within oneself (from the heart I mean, stupid!) but it kept getting louder and bolder. It was someone singing - it was a female voice - it was the voice of a female who was singing.

I was slightly shaken to find this sudden, uninvited intruder on my nameless street. Her ageless face registered a similar expression - a mixture of curiosity and irritation.

I was the first to speak:

"Oi - What are you doing here?"

She was taken aback but recovered quickly."What are YOU doing here?"

"I am, ofcourse, finding a street that has no name. Now answer my question - What are you doing here?"

"I am planting Mango trees"

"What?!! What are you doing?"

With the patience of a crocodile who has just caught its prey, she explained "I am planting Mango trees so that when I become old and had a few dozen grand children they can come here and play and eat mangoes"

"Ah ofcourse! I should have guessed that" I added, dryly.

"So, where are you going to find that unnamed street of yours"

"Why, I have already found it - This is it"

"But this street has a name..errr.. This is, this is.. 'Mango Promenade'"

I was flabbergasted. "What? But, but there is no sign - and there are no mangoes" I muttered.

"Yes, but there will be after some time and then this street would be named"

"Hmmm... I guess I need to get going in that case. I still have to find the street that would not be named, ever." I said, accepting defeat.

As I started my Santro to resume on my quest, I asked if she wanted to come along. After all it would be some time till she had grandchildren and till the mangoes grew. It has been a long time since then and I am not sure if she came along.

Straight on the horse's mouth

Finally this damn blog will have something that will go with it's name. As Einstein put as a comment the other day - This space is neither updated daily nor is it a travelogue. But who the heck questions and who the hecker thinks these days, he further said ?

Not me, and definitely not my masters.

Anyways, I had gone on a trek this weekend to 'Kudremukh' which in Kannada translates to 'Horse's mouth', which brings me to the point of this post. There is something funny about hills in South India. I mean, how is it possible that South Indian mountains mean something peculiar:
Anaimudi - Elephant's brow
Kudremukh - Horse' mouth
Thadiyendomol - Daughter of the fat man (She is beautiful, btw)

And we are talking about some of the highest peaks in South India, not changu mangus. Compare this with the neat names up north - Kailash Parbat, Nanda Devi, Kanchenjunga (suddenly the possible exception of Nanga Parbat hits me)

As they would say up north- Madraasi Yaar, kabhi to thoda respaact diya karo bhagwaanji ko...

I would have put up the whole damn travelogue - how we reached, how we ate, how we got lost, how cold the water was, how we ran from the leeches, how magnificent the view from the top was, how exhausted we were, how kind our hosts were - but frankly I don't have the right words to do justice to the amazing experience I had with the Horse's mouth.

Federer Lost

:(