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Dear Readers,

                     During the course of lazy Sunday morning chats today, a  friend of mine asked me how did I spend my Saturday. I was a bit hesitant to divulge the exact details, for my idea of a perfect Saturday evening would have been unpalatable to him. In sharp contrast to throbbing discotheques and loquacious restaurants, my refreshing weekend was spent in a park and a cozy bedroom. 

                       My long, quiet and lonesome weekends in the sand dunes of Bikaner has habituated me to celebrating Saturdays in a very solitary yet soul-rejuvenating way. Yesterday, to beat the fatigue of week-long lectures and writing, I chose to walk down to the Central Park for an evening jog. The real attraction was the opportunity to hear Parveen Sultana, one of the most famous classical singers of India, live. She was performing on the occasion of World Tourism Day at a concert organized by the Government of Rajasthan. It was so soothing to sit on one of the benches and listen to her beautiful voice doling out thumris and bhajans one after the other.

                    After all that peace and calm, I returned home, had a light dinner and tucked myself in the bed to feast upon a latest flick Finding Fanny. Homi Adjania's dry humor is nothing close to a master piece but is never the less entertaining and comic. For me, the highly luscious portrayal of Goa and its culture was enough to transport me into my fairyland and earn me a sound sleep...... 

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Dear Readers,

                   A friend of mine posted an article on her Facebook account which talked about the frivolity and extravagance of the great Navratra festival of Gujarat. The article talked about how Garba and Dandiya ran in the blood of Gujaratis and all those non-Gujarati outsiders who are enamoured by this mega festival. Apparently, I am one of the latter kinds. 

                 After reading that article, I went down memory lane and all those colorful and dazzling images of those magical nights flashed before my eyes. The beautifully adorned Gujarati women, donning mirror-work chaniya-cholis and dancing so elegantly in those gigantic swirling movements that they appear to be apsaras floating on celestial clouds. Equally gorgeous were the men folk, wearing kediyas and bustling with joy and energy. 

             The most romantic part of the whole experience is the slight nip in the air that usually hangs about post-monsoons during the month of October. To drive back home on a bike or a car late night ( which is really late, somewhere around 3 or 4 pm) in the company of friends through those streets of Ahmedabad or Baroda drenched in orange lights is a sure way to send your heart soaring so high that you feel dizzy and inebriated. Who needs alcohol, after all, in the 'dry state'!!!