Changi Airport Singapore


I had the fortune to spend a day and night in transit in Changi Airport. I felt like being in a womb. The architecture had the ambience of a little child. The smoker’s room was fantastic. Shops glittered with a bevy of things. I walked through the airport as a contented poet. The massive lounge was an opera of delight. One felt the ease of being at home. I had a lot of booze and I slept comfortable on a sofa. On waking I found that I had missed my flight. The officials there were courteous in assisting me. I rebooked my ticket paying a small sum. I loved the sardine sandwiches and the beautiful vodka. Yes, Changi is a heaven on earth.

Narrative About Kerala

Kerala, metonymyed as God’s Own Country is one of the fifty destinations to be visited are per National

Legend has it that Parasurama threw an axe into the Arabian Sea and carved a land called Kerala.

There’s also a legend that people were incensed with Shiva and said that we were not getting enough intoxication and Shiva in anger threw some hair on to the earth and out of it weed was born.

Prominent to see in Kerala are the mystic, tranquil backwaters, the heart and soul of Kerala. One can spend days and nights in them cruising slowly, watching the exotic birds, the lush paddy fields, the season of the monsoon all which forms a poetic epiphany.

Next there are the virgin beaches of Kerala, a paradise for tourists. The beach at Varkla is very famous, garden of water thronging in delight. Once while I was there, I came across a bookshop which had books of all nations. You could pick your book or exchange a book. Famous are the massages of Kerala, famous for rejuvenating the body.

Next comes the famous garden of aromatic tea and spices. It’s a pleasure to watch little hills of bloomed tea leaves. Once in Munnar, one becomes infatuated with the beautiful smell of tea leaves and spices.
Idukki a district of Kerala is famous for superb marijuana called as blue rope (Neela Chadayan). Grass has become very scarce in Kerala owing to strict vigilance of the police. But it is still thriving.

A Travelogue from Ludhiana


Ludhiana is in Punjab in the Northern part of India. I was there to give my daughter’s luggage as she had joined a medical college there. The flight from Delhi was a rustic, old one. The dinosaur plane had propellers outside and throughout the journey it was shaking like a windbag swaying in the breeze. Thank heavens I landed finally in a tiny airport having just one room. There was no conveyer belt for the baggage, but just a platform. To my good luck, there was only a single cab and I had to pay through the nose, a thousand bucks to the hotel. The streets are crowded like sardines, jam packed. The taxi missed other vehicles by inches. I marveled at the skill of the driver. The driver was hardy Punjabi with his stout turban and he knew smattering English and I started conversing with him. I could see cops all the way through, armed with light machine guns. The nation was on red-alert as it was celebrating independence. I could see an array of colorful turbans. Traffic was so uneven and cyclists were vying with cars. Cycle rickshaws ploughed through the traffic in sweet relish. Sweat oozed from the rickshaw drivers. The streets were narrow and dingy. Whole arrays of shops were selling a host of things like sweets and other Punjabi delicacies. Traveling through the streets, time takes ages. I went to my daughter’s medical college CMC. The buildings were quaint and bore the relics of the colonial empire. There was a beautiful little chapel in front of the college. I relished Punjabi Tandoori chicken with Nans made from flour. On the whole, the trip was an enjoyable one.