Operation Cover Up at Siena, Story from Italy!

I love DH's writing style so when he wrote a story about our little adventure, as we'd like to call it, during group tour in Siena, it seemed perfect to be published with Siena travel pictures. He consented to me posting it here, what could be better. Siena is a banking town and is also famous for its annual horse races. So, here the scoop...

Romulus and Remus

Operation Cover Up

Location: Siena, Italy

Agents S & D

Agent S had spotted it while walking with the rest of the tour group and signaled to agent D who saw it also and nodded imperceptibly. The quarry had been marked, but the modus operandi needed to be worked out.

They couldn't risk blowing their cover in a foreign country. The cover being of tourists on a tour of Tuscany alongside 50 others - mostly Americans.

Walking the narrow cobbled streets of Siena, like everyone else, they too stopped to take pictures, and point out curious things while trying to work out details of the plan. The operation would go against the direct order of the Tour Leader - who already seemed suspicious of the duo, despite them having two kids in tow. She sidled up to them ostensibly to to point things out or take pictures or even comment on the "cute well-behaved kids". But Agents S and D knew she was on to them.

Sole Searching...

Post courtesy DH

On the recommendation of a friend and fellow slave to bound parchment, I desired to read that famous book with a crumpled hiking boot on its cover. Santa, working in his own way, arranged for that book to land up with my better-half in a book exchange. Here, I shan't name that book, as a more thorough review of it would likely be forthcoming from the pen of said better-half.

I would like to say that the book inspired me to slap on a backpack and stride purposefully along to the nearest hiking trail - with a name long enough to justify an acronym like the 'PCT' of the book, but in reality the picture of that well-worn solitary boot reminded me of my own pair.

Antler wine rack...

Do you remember my post about ‘knowing your Artisan’?

Well, I have a personal story to share which highlights the importance of buying direct from the artist or at the very least knowing who is the artist behind your beloved piece...

So we were driving towards Crater Lake and while passing through a small town close to Bend, OR we spotted a canopy tent with antlers displayed under it, in an empty school parking lot and we stop to take a look. A little girl about the age of my older one greeted us and then left promptly to get her Dad to attend to us.

We looked around and realized it was a Taxidermy shop and once the person came, he showed us things, explained the processes and answered some curious questions from my girls.

Water Train - 77 words

Last month there was a short story (less than 78 words) contest in the Esquire magazine and participating in it was a good writing exercise for me. The experience that I wanted to capture was the train that brings water to the dry/desert regions of Gujarat (Kutch regions). I happen to travel in that train a couple of times back in the late nineties and have held the long dreary day close to my heart as one of the life changing experience.

Someday I hope to travel the region again and perhaps not in that slow train again but it’s a story worth sharing, I’ll have to take time for it…

For now, my 77 words:

The screeching sound of crank shaft and wheels jostling together and the jolt from the engine pulled the train out of the platform. As the clamor of the people quieted under the steady lulling train sounds, the desert sand roared in with the iron wheels, babul needles sharp and stiff, defied the triumph of drought while the cloud less blue sky bent down to kiss, for the train brought the water that the sky failed to deliver.

Soo line caboose, a photo by shalini_devesh on Flickr.

Another girl that would haunt me...

Standing at Railway station today while waiting for my train I spotted a little girl, so scantly clad in a piece of cloth that its tough to define the article covering her tiny body. A boy who seemed to be her brother wrapped her in a thin shawl like unstitched piece of cloth and tied it snuggly around her neck. She, it seems was waiting there with her mother to travel to the same destination as I was but I was traveling in a fully air-conditioned train with various amenities, which she certainly wasn’t going to take.

At the moment, I looked at my dad and wondered what would have happened if I wasn’t born to this man standing right next to me, if I didn’t get the upbringing and the opportunities that I got and then the usual series of whys and how and when’s and who’s. What made me who I am, is it a random coincidence or a well-executed plot. Why was I chosen to play the role of ‘Shalini’ and not that young girl who stood next to me on that railway platform? For a brief moment we shared the same space and while I prayed for her and her family I realized how blessed I was and then shook with the thought that that random coincidence is at play right now and in that randomness the possibility of role reversal is not improbable.

I am a firm believer of a universal energy that is at play and makes the world go round, all for a reason and there is no randomness, its all logical and makes a difference in the big picture and its all for greater good but still moments like the one at the railway station makes me think twice, what good would come out of a little girl shivering in cold and an other overdressed girl standing right next to her. What role did I play at the moment, I judged her based on her clothes, felt sorry for her, prayed for her, thanked God that I am blessed and wrote about her in my blog. Is that it? Or is there more. She is an impression on my mind that will last forever but would that makes me a more conscious person, a more aware person. I am not sure what is the outcome of that brief encounter and how it would affect my mind in the long term but it made me think and I want the assimilation of these thoughts to remain with me when I buy that next jacket or that next pair of shoes…

Thank you Mr. Mallya

It was about a week before our unexpected Florida trip, we were on one of our usual after dinner walks when we spotted a red and grey airplane in the air. I love planes, I love to fly and I love to travel and all those are understatements. Since I had not been on a plane for past 9 months, I looked at it longingly and blurted out, when will get to fly with you. Saumya, my first born shares my love of airplanes, flying and traveling besides many other things. She asked me what plane is that and I said ‘northwest’, now part of Delta. Her response was so its not ‘kingfisher’, I want to sit in a kingfisher. And we had some discussion about its color and what she likes about it but nothing came out strikingly special.

Fast-forward to the day of our Florida trip, we were sitting in our seats, Saumya next to the window and guess what she says, ‘Mamma, it’s not a kingfisher’. I was shocked that rather than being excited about the flight and the trip, she was bummed that it was not a ‘kingfisher’. I told her that they don’t have kingfishers here; she took it as a cold fact and asked so when can we sit in one.

I don’t remember our exact conversation then but I do remember my thoughts later, I was very surprised; Saumya took her first flight at the age of 2.5 months and have sat in multitude of different airlines since but her affection for Kingfisher and her aversion for the big blue plane (Boeing 747, KLM) are remarkable. I think the reason for her not liking the big blue plane is very clear, she has to watch whatever they are playing on the big screen and she doesn’t get to pick the cartoon she wants but I haven’t been able to figure out what is so exceptionally good about the ‘kingfishers’ besides their very inventive advertisements that she hasn’t been exposed to yet. Don’t get me wrong, their service was very good, food was delicious, they were very sensitive to kids’ presence but I think a lot of it depends on the crew and experiences vary.

Whatever it is, may be the fact they served dinner to kids before they did to the rest of the flight, the fact that she was carried up and down the plane in the arms of a steward (most domestic flights in India still board and deplane on the tarmac like the olden days and passengers are transported to the airport building through a bus) or that she was provided with puzzles and crayons besides the regular television option, but Mr. Vijay Mallya did something right that clicked with a four year old and has stayed with her for more that nine months. Good Job Mr. Mallya, now you just need to start flying to this part of the world. And thank you for a wonderful experience…
As far as I am concerned, as long as I get to fly, I don’t mind if there is television or food on board. I am okay with carrying my own bottle of water and flying my own plane if it gets to that but I just wish to continue to fly as long as I live…


A little side story, I worked in the aeronautics department for a few months and got plenty of opportunities to fly around in little planes. The reason I choose to work there was that of course I love to fly but also that my dad is an aeronautical engineer. Anyways, so flying in the little plane often involves sitting with the pilot in the cockpit and during one of such journeys, the pilot let me control the plane and that excitement of being able to fly on my own and letting the plane turn where I wanted to still lives with me. Thinking about those moments still gives me a rush of adrenaline… it was a very fine experience… just wanted to mention it…

A couple of pictures that I took from air...

Lake Superior at Duluth...


St.Paul from mid air...

I believe in Butterflies...

I love butterflies and totally believe in them, the metamorphosis inspires me to dream big... here's a short story I wrote sometime back:

Once there was a little boy who loved watching butterflies... he could run after them in fields forever.
One day his mom asked him, do you know where the butterflies come from?

He said no but his mind started thinking if he had ever seen baby butterflies...
He couldn't recall it...
The next time, he was playing in the park, his mom called him to show a leaf.
When she said, 'look at that', he responded yeah, its a leaf...
Mom said, 'look closer'...
He noticed a little slimy worm barely able to scoot on the leaf. He asked, 'what is it mom?'
Mom said, its a baby butterfly.
He couldn't believe it, that butterfly that is so beautiful and flies at such speed started out as this slimy worm.
Mom then told him that its a caterpillar, it actually started as an egg, and now that the egg is hatched and he is a caterpillar, he is going to attach himself to a branch and build a cocoon around him...

Once inside the cocoon, he almost lost touch with everything outside and stayed inside the cocoon, building himself up.
The cocoon had hardened and he often wondered if he'll ever be able to break it but that didn't stop him from building up his strength and gathering rescouces...

Soon he found that the cocoon was getting transparent and he could see the outside world and feel some of it too.
But when he tried to reach it, it felt very restrcited and he realized that even though he could see everything, he couldn't touch anything, he was still stuck...
He didn't know what was better, not being able to see anything or this when he saw it all; he knew what he wanted but couldn't reach it and it was very frustrating... but he didn't give up, he kept on building...

And before long he realized he could wiggle his arms and that his arms are long now and once he streched it, they weren't arms but were wings and then he fluttered them and found he could fly and go places...
The same kid who used to drop him off the leaf is now running after him to catch him...
The world was beautiful and a slow caterpillar had turned into a 'butterfly'.

Many years after that incident, the little boy had turned into a young man and was stuck and felt frustrated.
He decided to take a stroll in the park and saw a butterfly...
Today, he didn't run after the butterfly but his mind did and took him to the same place where his Ma had told him the story of a cocooned caterpillar and he realised that when the caterpillar is frustrated and he knows what he wants but can't reach it, thats when the cocoon melts and he becomes the butterfly...
It gave him new strength and new enthusiasm to go back and keep building...
Cause he knew, soon he'll be going places... just like the butterfly!

I hope this story inspires you to dream of beautiful fields and colorful butterflies...

My first visit to the Tajmahal

It was 10 years ago, when I was a fresh grad from school and took up my first job as Structural engineer. I was working on my second major project, design of a waste water treatment plant for the city of Agra. The city where Tajmahal is situated...
The design was complete and the construction was on, when we went on our first field visit. It was three of us, my boss, an accounts person and I...
It was a day trip from Delhi and we started early in the morning to meet the schedule...

We reached the construction site while the fog was still lifting and sun wasn’t completely out of the clouds, after the initial meeting and site orientation discussion, the site inspector and I headed out to inspect the site... I managed to climb on a counterfort wall that was about 30 feet high, to give me a better vantage point of the site.
Just as you would expect from a novice engineer I was asking tons of questions to the guy next to me and was very engrossed in the technical discussion when I happened to turn my head to see what’s behind me.
The landscape was all green and the sun rays were filtering through the clouds and made everything glow and there in the distance was a white familiar structure, ‘the Tajmahal’.
It has been a while since that day, but that first sight is still crystal clear in my memory...
Later in the day while my boss was busy in a meeting, the accounts person and I sneaked out to take a closer look at the Tajmahal, but I had no camera, no journal... nothing, not even a pen to make a note about that day till today...
Even in the most mundane situation, Tajmahal seemed magnificent but I still long to go back there sometime... in a more traditional way, with family, with friends, with love of my life....

What made me revisit that day from 10 years ago, well my Mum and Dad are going to be in Agra on Valentine’s day and although they don’t plan to visit the Tajmahal in this trip... I thought, how romantic!

World’s best coffee...

...is served at Nautilus café, Schiphol airport, Amsterdam (22).
The last time DH was transiting through that airport (alone), he skipped the brewed coffee and bought some beans instead so that we recreate the experience at home...



I totally understand it when people say that the food looses its tastes the moment it leaves the restaurant and that food is an experience, sum total of the ambiance, the company, the conversation and the server; yet...

The memory of an airport, the realization that life is a journey and that too a short one and that each turn is as important as the previous one, makes each sip bring back a flood of memories... (including the coffees and conversations we never had)

Venting... no Italy visa for us :-(

Why do diplomats/Government officials who are representing their country in a foreign land have to be so rude?

Yesterday, I went to see a local consulate of Italy in Minnesota to get my signature notarized so that I can apply for schengen visa.
I had called her twice before going there and left one message and had sent an email asking for her availability but she didn’t respond and the Italian consulate website gave public hours to her office as 9:00am -12:30pm. So, there I am with all the paper work missing my department meeting at work and she says it’s by appointment only. I asked what would be a good time and she said Friday between 5:00pm and 6:00pm.
Mind it, its Monday morning we are talking about.
I told her that our potential travel date is two weeks away and we are in hurry and as I was in the middle of the sentence, she said come back at 5:00pm in the evening and slammed the door on my face.
I was shocked, I wasn’t asking for charity, it’s her job and she is based in Minnesota so that we don’t have to go to Chicago personally. Because of her presence here, I have to get my signature notarized through her or else go to Chicago. Unlike other consulates, I can’t use a third party to represent me.
I was so disappointed, I told Devesh I don’t want to go to Italy. If this is how they welcome people to their country, I am better off not going…and we are not going, for this and other reasons.

I have experienced this before, back in 2000 when we were planning a trip to Paris to celebrate our first wedding anniversary. I talked to French Consulate twice; they were so uncooperative I was turned off. Especially after hearing all the stories about French being snobbish and not prefer to speak English…I didn’t want to go.
We went...
And the people were so different from what I was expecting, they were the nicest people and went out of their way to help us. It was eye opening…

May be, we’ll plan on going to Italy sometime in future but this experience has certainly put it off for a while…I think all government representative should take a customer care training and should learn to be a little more tactful, a little more responsible, a bit polite.

Just needed to share it with someone...