GOA, Jun '15

How many times has an outing with friends ended with the hackneyed phrase : ''We should definitely plan a trip to Goa !'' ? ... You've lost count, haven't you?
''Oh, maybe we should go there this winter''... ''Uhm, but Winter isn't coming soon, I don't want to wait so long''... ''Well, then let's head out during the monsoons''..... ''Aah, that sounds like a plan. Let's do that!''

This is how our plan germinated and all it needed after that was a careful and well-addressed nudge.
I'd like to think we chose one of the better times of the year to plan one of the best trips that shall perpetuate enduring memories among best of friends.
The seeds of the plan were rather humble, but unexpectedly, it burgeoned and blossomed into epic proportions with folks jumping onto the bandwagon till the eleventh hour and finally we got the count to a rather sizeable number of 14.

Once the plan was concrete, the details were glossed over in the true Goa spirit of nonchalance.
‎We reached Goa on a Friday afternoon and were welcomed by mighty rains, which drenched us to the bones as if to immerse us in the Goa spirit.
After a brief journey through the villages and narrow lanes of North Goa, we landed up at the charming Birdsong Villa in Moira.

Thanks to the efforts of Radhika and Raj, we found the perfect den for our sojourn. The moment we entered the villa, it's grandeur and ‎avant garde decor took us over. The interiors of this magnificent abode ooze Class and Art in equal measure.
Each room is named after a spice and carries a different flavour of decor to distinguish it from the others. The earthy themes in the rooms bring you closer to Nature and make you feel even more connected to the environment enveloping you.

We spent the cool, drizzling evening in the pool with mood-setting music playing in the bar and dining area besides the pool. It was as relaxing as it can get and a rocking way to set ourselves up for the adventures to follow. Surbhi put up a valiant effort to impart some swimming lessons to the floaters but did succeed in infusing some verve into Prashant's attempts.
The cook and the runner boy made it even better for us by conjuring up delicious meals at short notice.

The next morning we set out to savour the joie de vivre of Goa. A circuitous drive led us to Baga Beach to scout for shacks, which were not to be found due to the seasonal lull in tourist flocks. The wind was worth the walk though and it picked up so fast that after some time the sand granules began whipping us. Maddy tried hard to protect Riddhi but acquiesced after a short while and we headed out of there. After a quick couple of bites, we just needed an excuse to be filmy and off we went to Chapora Fort to register our Dil Chahta Hai moment.

The drive was beautiful and Jigar made the most of it by hiring a bike which all the girls took turns to ride pillion on. The heavy rain didn't deter him even though there were times when he could hardly even see the road beneath his wheels. The steep climb up the Fort was worth every sinew stretched once we got there and the view from the fort was exhilarating. Beneath us, the waves pounded angrily onto the shores where the resilient tall palm trees stood up against its every attack and the colour of the huts complemented the palette. 

The grandiose beauty of Nature is such that it coaxes you to surrender the relentless pursuit of material possessions to make time for the 
unspoilt pleasure of watching time pass you by while enriching you with poetry and perspective

.
The crazy photo op mastered by Sonal was cut short when Jinen's stunt went awry and he worried about getting 'First Aid' treatment done. Then we descended from the Fort and headed out to Vagator beach. Once that was taken care of, we chose Anjuna as the next halt and while we were just getting to know the place, Ankit wanted to puff a cigarette against the wise warning of Nishi. So soaked was Ankit in the Goa feel, that he turned a blind eye towards the No Smoking board. In India, all the cops need is an excuse and they got a good one here. The cops were hell bent on punishing him for it, so much so that a scary spate of wild sparks in the nearby electric poles didn't deter them either.
Mayhem and pandemonium was the order of the day when people ran helter skelter trying to get to safety from the overhead electric lines.
It was a stark reminder of how panic can run amok if it's given the slightest opportunity. 

After so much of commotion, it was nice to get back to the villa for a quiet evening, before the night-out at LPK. The music was peppy, passionate and thumping and it was driving everyone high, none more so than our stag of the night, Jigar. So possessed was he by the spirit of the night and the spirits in his sight, that he made sure people enjoyed his antics more than they could enjoy the music. I had a curiously wicked feeling that we would soon be involved in our first bar brawl thanks to this, but perhaps the rejoicers at the club were not so keen on it.
The eerie presence of our 'personal paparazzo' was exciting at first but made us furious at the end. Once we were done dancing, the drive back was a long one.  The deserted, narrow, winding roads were straight out of a horror movie but luckily there were no other unexpected sights to behold that night.

The next morning we were bit by the curiosity bug and set ourselves on exploring more of the tiny state. Our prolonged deliberations resulted in the wise decision of driving up to Arambol beach. We were akin to wandering souls that morning and we decided to test the oft repeated mantra of making the journey more fruitful than the destination. As a result, we allowed ourselves the liberty to flow unabated like a flowing river and chose the most inviting twists and turns that we encountered in our journey. It was debatable though whether Sachit or us wandered farther.


The beautiful little village roads we passed through made us realize the resonating difference between a traveller and a tourist. We made our way through tiny nooks and crannies and ventured off-road onto narrow tracks surrounded inadvertently by ponds and paddy fields. The melodious whispers of the morning breeze coupled with our unwavering enthusiasm enveloped us with an ethereal aura. It was remarkable to note how little of this we end up imbibing in our bustling city lives and how much more the world has to offer. It was a most satisfying journey and the destination just seemed like a formality after that. However, it was a pleasant surprise to find the solitude offered by this quaint little beach at the northern edge of this little State.
 
We were quickly descending towards the last night of this short but memorable trip and we decided to add more substance to it through the night by following up a lovely dinner with some poker fun amidst bursts of banter and laughter. It was time now to bid adieu as the morning Sun rose high in the sky and heralded a literal and figurative conclusion to the cool, breezy nature of our time together. 

This trip was meant to transpose us back in time to the good ol' days of abundant and naive joy oblivious to the travails of our current lives
and I reckon it did a pretty neat job of it.

Once the goodbyes were done, we just had a couple of hours to bide before making our return trip ourselves.
I grabbed this window of opportunity to engender in Bhawna the notion of a romantic Goa by sharing a leisurely stroll along the beach, with us fondly gazing into each others' eyes while the waves washed up gently against our feet as if cajoling us into returning to these shores.
We made a silent promise to be back sooner rather than later and it's hard to imagine this promise not being honoured.

Prague, Czech Republic

Here I am in Prague, Czech Republic, reminiscing about the year gone by and the way things have transpired.

Life is a far cry (or joy) from the state of affairs a year back.

Prague is my first foray into the former East Bloc of Communism and its surprisingly a beacon of all things capitalistic and American today.

Be it McDonald's , Starbucks, KFC, Subway, or any of the Western superbrands like Gucci, Dior, Cartier, Marks n Spencer, Louis Vuitton, etc etc etc.

Even before you start judging it as a commercial modern city, you will be stunned into disbelief to see how medieval the city can really feel.

Its a marvel to behold.

Prague is called the city of 1000 spires. Well that count is not off the mark at all.

All you need to do is look skywards and there shall be a tall spire looking down at you. The city has an endless list of monuments and structures, each more inviting than the other.

Modest is not a word that would sit pretty on Prague; it is a very proudly endowed architectural wonder.

There are structures dating back even a thousand years and plenty more from each century thereafter.

There's so much that has already been built there in the past that the present generations would do well just to preserve the bequeathed wealth.

This would also ensure an unrelenting stream of tourists with their fat purses.

I came to Prague expecting a quiet city with a few important attractions which would make the long trip worthwhile, but what I came across was total magnificence.

The city is abuzz with people and activities.

I probably encountered more English-speaking tourists here than anywhere else in Europe. There are places in Prague where you can see scores of cameras criss crossing each others' ranges in all possible angles in order to capture the all round brilliance of the place.

The cobbled lanes and by-lanes of Prague transport you to an era gone by.

You can just sit there and soak in a feel of the times when we had horse-drawn carriages and royal families.

You would be bemused to see hundreds of people standing clustered like a beehive and clicking passionately in front of an immensely popular astronomical clock from half a century back.

Then you have the equally popular Charles Bridge where people clamour for space to land their feet on in order to snap away to achieve their preferred angle of the Prague Castle in the distance.

The city is untiring in its urge to satiate the architectural thirst of even its most discerning visitor.

The city has something to offer to all kinds of clientele and sensibilities, what with casinos and cabarets strewn all around.

The best thing about the city is that it almost effortlessly and harmoniously blends in the majesty of the medieval ages with the glamour of the modern age.

In the end, I cant help but realise that Prague is actually a wondrous recap of a lot of the cities I ve visited in the aforementioned past year. The city seems to be an uncanny confluence of Viennese art and Italian architecture, with dollops of Barcelona's buzz and Amsterdam's flair added for good measure.

Prague is surely a boundless beauty.

Benaras

They say expect less and you shall be forever grateful.

Wise words these and they certainly ring true about my trip to the holy city of Benaras.

Now, my conscious association with this magical city and its people is only two and a half years old ever since my engagement to Bhawna but there is an underlying inert connection that unfolds as you unravel the growing years of your better half.

My initiation to the city was during the relatively tepid morning hours perfumed by the freshness of the cold morning air. That impression was soon overwhelmed by the raucous cacophony of honking and screaming on the streets. In a strange way it was a familiarizing aspect as it reminded me of the childhood holidays spent in Raipur. The reception we received was really endearing and heart warming and convinced me that it was going to be a memorable trip.

Benaras is a land of temples, ghats, chaats and mithaais. We quickly set out to explore all these facets as much as we could. We were in haste, with hardly any time to waste. The main streets of the city didn’t inspire much enthusiasm in me. The traffic was horrific and chaotic even for someone bred in the cauldrons of Calcutta and Mumbai. Realisation soon dawned that this was not the way to enjoy the holy land. It takes some getting used to the narrow lanes of Benaras, but once you submit yourself to its meandering and befuddling ways, it embraces you with open arms and mesmerizes you with its labyrinthine formations. You start enjoying the jaunts through its nooks and crannies. There’s something intriguing about the tiny lanes and bylanes of Benaras where you are often jostling for space with lazy cows and restless dogs. The eternal charm of its ‘galiyaan’ surreptitiously envelops you before you consciously realize it. The age-old stone pavements are reminiscent of the old towns of Europe. It also serves you well to recognise that these walkways are actually the quickest and most convenient way around the old town.

Within these myriad lanes are ensconced temples of all shapes, sizes and beliefs. Word is that for every God and Goddess worshipped in India, there is a temple in Benaras, and it doesn’t seem too far from the truth when you come across the multitude of magnificent temples steeped in history and wrapped up in a time warp. Time stands still at these temples and you feel a surreal closeness to the Almighty irrespective of your personal disposition. We visited more temples in those 3 days than most people would in a year. The imposing stone edifice of the revered Kashi Vishwanath temple leaves you spellbound with a feeling of awe and humility. All these temples are notable for their power to elicit divine sentiments. You soon realize that this is indeed a blessed land. From Sankat Mochan to Bhaironath, every temple has its individual aura which pulls devotees from across seas as well.

The time spent at home was memorable for the genuine love and care shown by one and all. Each day was dedicated to a special mithaai dipped in the sweetness of Benaras, what have you with Malaiyyo, Gilori, Kheerkadam and that’s just scratching the surface. However, the gourmet wonders of Benaras have to be rounded off by chewing on the succulent Benarasi Paan which is famed to have the potency to unlock all the trapped musings of the brain, and remember, one is never enough.

It’s always a pleasure spending quality time with loved ones, and I would say I found a few more to add to the list. Be it the nostalgia of Dadaji, the love of Dadiji, the hospitality of Kakaji, the endearment of Kakiji, the excitement of Payal or the fervour of Akshat, it was all too warm to forget in a hurry. Not to forget the constant presence of Mom trying to ensure her Son doesn’t spend a minute uncomfortably.

We spent the last morning in the best possible manner by jumping onto a small boat which skirted all the famous ghats along the Ganges. There was a story to know and a tale to be told about so many of the ghats, besides the picturesque setting and fresh whiff of the morning river breeze.

That evening we walked to the famous Dashashvamedh Ghat, pit-stopping for a much anticipated Lassi break on the way‎. It's a testament to the international popularity of the town that this nondescript joint in the middle of the bustling market area had an overpowering Korean patronage writ large on its walls.

Once we got to the Ghat, it was time to bow before the ethereal aura of the Ganga Aarti, which was being conducted in harmonious synchronisation by young and enthusiastic Pujaris‎. The evening breeze of the river lent a soothing feel ‎after an enervating 3 days and calmed the mind and soul.

In the process of discovering Bhawna’s childhood memories, I felt like I was discovering more about her, in ever such little measures. Her unabated joy and the reminiscent thrill of her growing up years was very much visible. I was feeling happy for her and enjoying her little jogs through memory lane. Somewhere the bond between us grew stronger on this remarkable trip. Hope the bond grows to be as pure as the river Ganga and as innocent as Lord Shiva, whose divinity is espoused by the Holy City of Benaras.

Eiffel Tower, Paris, 13th March 2010

Here I was, in Paris, the city of romance.

It was going good till it got better, saw the Louvre and had da Vinci's 'Monalisa' pose with me for a couple of snaps.

Everyone was just interested in visiting the Eiffel tower but I carefully manouevred things around to make sure we were only there after nightfall to experience the splendour of the night sky being lit up by the golden hue of the tower.

So, finally we were approaching the Eiffel Tower - we view it in the distance, resplendant in its brilliant yellow lighting.

As we get closer, lo and behold! The clock strikes 9 and the Tower starts glittering with 20000 bulbs synchronised to stud the gold with sparkling diamonds for the next 5 mins.

This, we later discover, is an hourly extravaganza at that time of the night.

The view completely blows you off and leaves you with one everlasting expression - WOWWW !!!

Could there be a better sight on the planet - well if there is, I will be left speechless there.

You have obviously seen the monument umpteen times on your screens and on paper, but the actual view is beyond a parallel.

You gawk and gawk in amazement till you realise you are just 1 among 7 million visitors per year, so there is a long queue to be negotiated.

So there you stand overthrilled to visit the top level in a looong queue to buy tickets, with Indians aplenty giving you company.

You also have a flourishing market of Desi salesmen trying to use patriotism as a tool to sell you replicas of the Eiffel Tower, which you ofcourse disregard as frivolous.

Finally the ticket is bought and your excitement gets steeper as you are aboard the elevator that takes you to the 2nd level first. Winter has not left us and its freezing there with the wind leaving you scurrying for cover.

However nothing can deter the ultimate conquest and you reach the 3rd or top level at a height of about 300 m.

What you see from there makes you feel like the most fortunate person. You look down upon Paris in all its sparkling grandeur and it makes you haste into a free wheeling session of endless clicks of the camera.

Paris looks like a babe and you just want to keep gaping. 

You want to thank Gustav Eiffel for conceptualising and creating this gem and thank God for the gift of sight.

The River Seine flows gently past on one side accentuating the beauty of the place.

The cold wind is no more a deterrent by the time your heightened sense of excitement takes over.

Its believed that one of the purposes of the Eiffel Tower was to serve as a lighthouse for ships and boats on the river Seine and it still serves as a beacon of light with its magnificent beam powered right from the top.

However, now the primary function of the Tower seems to be of embellishment rather than enlightenment.

That prompts me to think that even the zillion camera flashlights from the top and bottom of Eiffel Tower must be lighting up the place by itself.

Due to the cruel speed of the ever ticking clock, we were supposed to make our way back down again. All of us grab a souvenir or two to forever remember this memorable visit.

With all the excitement, we all developed some appetite and headed to a crepe store near the Tower to grab a bite. After walking around the place for a fair amount of time to soak in the fervour, we decided to stick on for an extra 15 mins to ensure a final view of the sparkle at midnight.

There we sat on a bench, all eyes gazing upon the architectural masterpiece. The dazzling diamonds dance on the Tower once again and as they fizzle out, that's the end of the show for us. Thus ends a most memorable evening.

Makes you wonder, what would Paris be without the Eiffel Tower? Perhaps just as beautiful but definitely not as spectacular.

Barcelona - Sept 2010

Barcelona is a city of pleasant surprises and muted disappointments, atleast it was so for me..

Barcelona was a desired destination as soon as I arrived in Switzerland and was always on the agenda as one of the places I'd visit soon.

However, due to one or the other reason it kept getting pushed back so much so that when I finally got tickets booked to visit it, I was surprised thinking that I'm actually going there for real.

The train ride was a marathon exercise and took about 14 hrs overnight.

Somehow, Barca to me was always an essentially Spanish destination which in my mind was a close cousin to Italy and was supposed to be dirty, unsafe but spectacular..

When I reached Barcelona, I wasn't expecting a lot out of it suddenly.

We decided to explore the slim chances of landing tickets for the La Liga game at Camp Nou.

So we dashed to the stadium and wandered around a little till we finally got to the right counter and waited with bated breath to know if we would strike gold and grab tickets to watch one of the greatest teams assembled at the continent's greatest venue.

All the while we were setting limits to how much we were willing to splurge for the chance and luckily we got the tickets we wanted.

My joy was overflowing and I was thinking of people who would give an arm and a leg for such a chance.

Rishabh's name sprung to mind and I sent him this message being so full of myself.

Then I snooped around in the Barca megastore there and bought a few petty souvenirs.

It was past midday with the Sun beating down upon us and we drew up a tentative plan for the rest of the day. It basically revolved around the 6 pm game we were to watch.

We made our way to the Sagrada Familia Cathedral, which is the leading landmark of Barcelona.

It is an impressive structure made of stone and its spires towering in 4 sets of twins.

The architecture by Gaudi is avant garde and breathtaking in some details, but I was expecting something even more fascinating and was a touch disappointed looking at the interior which wasn't something I could appreciate.

We headed to our booked hostel from there and rested our tired legs for sometime.

It was getting closer to our big moment and rather than allow it to come onto us, we rushed towards it and reached the stadium well in advance such that we were seated an hour in advance for an extravaganza that was in itself for 90 mins.

The stadium was a delight to be in, with proper order and organization unlike the chaos one would see all around a cricket stadium in India.

I had to pinch myself to believe that I was actually there at Camp Nou !!

After a long wait and build up it was finally action time.

We were worried whether the stars would be playing, against the opponents who were considered unworthy of the stage by us.

The line up though was nothing short of World Class, boasting names such as Pique, Abidal, Valdes, Mascherano (Xavi 45'), Iniesta, David Villa, and the favourite son of Barca, Lionel Messi.

The game started well with the loudest cheers reserved for the slightest of touches by the nouvelle stars Mascherano and David Villa.

Barca were dominating when out of nowhere, Hercules (Valdez 26') struck a goal and the crowd was in disbelief.

Everyone was still pretty settled treating it as an aberration on way to another win at home for Barca.

The clock kept ticking and the anxiety mounted.

At 58 mins, tragedy stuck out its face when Hercules (Valdez again) counterattacked to take a 2-0 lead.

This was blasphemy and the crowd let out a collective shriek.

The tension got palpable and unbearable when a couple of close shots were fruitless and hell was not far when thankfully Hercules hashed up a perfect chance to score a third.

The game ended and so did a special experience which left mixed emotions in its wake, given the result extraordinaire.

I trudged back in disbelief and with a strange sense of disappointment and contentment.

Our next destination was the immensely popular street La Rambla which is abuzz with tourists and myriad activities all day and all night long.

It was a spectacle to behold and was a charming experience to walk alongside hundreds of tourists from all over the globe, all trying to soak in the best of Barcelona.

There were janitors, artistes and performers all along the long stretch with each of them trying their best to attract maximum eyeballs and more importantly, moolah, from the rapt audiences.

Along the way, Vibhas' eyes fell upon probably the 1st Vegetarian-only eating place we had seen in all of Europe.

It was nothing short of a miracle and we gratefully obliged ourselves, filling ourselves upto the throat virtually.

We then continued our jaunt down the street and reached one of Barcelona's ports with small boats lined up all around.

The place was lively and tourist-friendly much like all other places we had seen in Barcelona.

It was time to retire for the night and to dream about probably the last day of my foreseeable future in Spain.

The next morning seemed fresher and we had lots to cover.

The day began again with a trip to La Rambla where we decided to take a divergent route to explore the parallel streets.

It was a nice experience seeing the Barcelona cathedral and the famous Placa Reial. In the midst of all this, we enjoyed the freshest Mediterranean orange juice and I couldnt resist a 2nd helping.

Next on our agenda was a visit to the beach which spans a huge area and is only a couple of kilometres from La Rambla.

It was a brilliant beach and the water was a sparkling blue.

However the 'view' was disappointing after what one has come to expect having seen the lovely Swiss.

It was getting hotter and the Sun was quite strong, reminding of the discomfort that awaits me once I'm back to India.

Then we chanced upon a few rocks (a la Nariman point) by the seaside and sat there taking in the cool sea breeze.

It was time to decide what our next destination ought to be. In the process we sauntered along the La Rambla once again and then settled on Tibidabo as our last major stop in Barca. I had heard a lot about Tibidabo and how it was a must-visit spot. Getting there was a task as we had to travel on 4 different trains at different levels of the earth's surface. However, once we got there it was a pretty emphatic sight.

Its basically an amusement park on the top of a hill but the view of the entire city from there is nothing short of awe-inspiring.

Barcelona looks quite stunning from this height, what with hundreds of small distant houses interspersed with a few tall landmarks of the city.

After posing for photographs in all conceivable angles and expressions, we walked a bit around Tibidabo. 

Soon the clock had ticked enough to make us retreat to the city. We reached well in time and had to satiate our hunger now. 

There werent many promising options open at 5pm on a Sunday and we had to be content with some sandwiches and the freshest orange juice in all the world, squeezed out of a fancy looking and efficient juice extraction equipment, apparently by an Indian couple.

In the midst of all this, I had to lug myself with Spanish 'kesar' which my people from back home were very keen for.

It was then that I realised how expensive a tiny strand of 'kesar' is and how I should be sorry for every time I dropped one

down the drain along with the milk.

Such was my tryst with Spain, one of more pleasant surprises than disappointments.

¡Viva la Espana!

Venice Memoirs 30th - 31st Jan 2010

If Rome enthrals, Venice enchants.

Its a city unlike any other.

Imagine having canals for roads and waterbuses for public transport.

And to spice it up, you have a main 'road' running all through town called the Grande Canal as well as taxi rides where speedboats are your taxis.

When you have your first glimpse of the city, you can be forgiven for underestimating its uniqueness.

It initially seems like any other city in Europe with a lake all around.

However, Venice is absolutely a different species.

First of all, you would struggle to find a land transport option in the actual town coz there are none.

There are buses which ply in certain areas but those are not places a tourist would be much interested in.

The waterbus-stops are themselves floating on water and can be really shaky when a berthing bus disturbs the water currents.

The waterbuses are similar to ferries but the view of the route is something to gape at.

The main square of the city is Piazza San Marco.

When you alight from the waterbus there, you are inadvertently drawn to the Gondolas berthing peacefully in a cluster. Bad weather and astronomical prices meant there werent many takers for them and the Gondoliers perhaps attuned to this fact were nowhere to be seen.

Now ofcourse this gives an Indian like me the unavoidable urge to step into one and make the most of the photo-op and so I do.

When you head towards the main square you are greeted by a huge flock of pigeons and sea gulls gladly jumping on top of any person's head and palms, who is willing to offer them food.

On walking further and viewing the same structure as shown in 'khuda jaane' your instincts take over and you become Ranbir Kapoor and moreso start looking out for Deepika but are pricked back to sad reality soon.

The monuments are stunning but when its -1 degree C, a little flavour is lost.

To restore the flavour, I head to a gelato store, nevermind the freezing weather.

(Statutory Warning - The gelatos at any place in Italy are not to be bunked even by the calorie conscious freaks.) 

Its sunset and we head back to locate our booked hostel and after a while set off again, to Rialto, a famous bridge in Venice.

Its a bustling area with activity and life.

Then curiosity makes you wanna explore the lanes and by-lanes of Venice.

We head into wherever the lanes lead us, crossing small canals and climbing mini bridges.

Infact it seems closer home in Venice than any other place in Europe, what with houses and buildings which take your mind back to a quiet day in Burrabazar or Kalbadevi.

The lanes of Venice virtually transport you to an era gone by, with the happy exclusion of modern distracting structures and transport.

We retired early that night due to lack of options and hopes of an early morning stroll before our train at 9.50 am on Sunday.

The next morning brought with it an icy town waking up from a snowy night.

We took off on an uninitiated route willing to explore more of the 'real' Venice and blessed we were.

The quiet lanes and bylanes were a joy. There were small canals at every juncture lined with boats and taxis and gondolas.

The serenity was breathtaking where every human being seen  could be described as a rara 'sighting'.

But it was the best hour I had at Venice, evermore wishing for a return trip once in life with a romantic partner.

Venice was a surreal destination, though the experience would have been at another level altogether with better weather and more time.

WC Final 2011 - A firsthand account

There are a thousand dreams you dream but alas they just stay as dreams.

But sometimes dreams come true and how!

I had a dream - to watch the finals of the WC 2011 at Mumbai between India and Australia.

However that was shot down on 20th March when it became official that these 2 teams would only meet in the QF.

Even then the dream of watching the Final lived on in the deepest recesses of my mind.

On the morning of the Final I was woken up to the reality of an invitation to watch the Final, or was I dreaming still?

Thankfully I wasnt.

It was a Godsent opportunity and I grabbed it gleefully. My cousin had 2 tickets and I was the fortunate companion to him.

The reaction was subdued and the joy muted for fear of jinxing it.

However as we reached closer to the destination the excitement got more palpable. Before it could be absorbed, I was queueing up to enter Wankhede.

As always we spent more than an hour to figure out where we would be sitting because seating regulations changed at the 

whims of our fellow spectators or the cops they dragged along with them.

When that was taken care of, all we cared about was the action, both on the field and in the stands.

The crowd was lively and star-studded with lots and lots of filmstars, politicians, industrialists, ex-cricketers all flaunting their patriotism and 

enjoying themselves at the biggest stage of it all. Our stand's resident celeb was Vivek/Viveik/Vievek Oberoi (not sure how he spelt it that day)

and he added some life by breaking into impromptu jigs to 'aey ganpat chal daaru la' and 'tere liye-prince'.

The sentiment in the crowd was largely optimistic throughout India's bowling, with odd spots of bother about Shreesanth's sustained generosity and Zaheer's late burst of charity.

The late bloom by Sri Lanka made the match prospects mouth watering albeit a little too hot for the spectators' liking.

With the start of India's batting, all that the public cared about was a 100 from Sachin and then the WC would be a certain by-product. 

The early exit of Sehwag and Sachin knocked the living daylights out of the Indian supporters and the silence was befitting a funeral.

The familiar feeling of scepticism swept across the stunned arena.

However, the steady progress of Gambhir and Kohli progressively calmed and then excited the spectators once again.

In my part of the ground, Malinga came in for some special lambasting by the Indian fans who strived to shred even the last vestige of confidence out of the Slinger.

It kept getting more and more vociferous once Dhoni and Gambhir started imposing India's mark on impending victory.

Chants of 'Chak de India', ' Vande Mataram', 'De Ghumake' and 'Sachin Sachin' (often out of context) worked up the fervent passion of the entire stadium.

As always there were some party poopers whose intention of watching the game quietly didnt quite strike a chord with the passionate majority and led to squabbles. This was obviously a source of amusement and entertainment for the onlookers.

All this while, the panning camera kept the fans on their toes with the everlasting hope of being beamed on the telly with a record viewership looking on.

Every now and then, I would steal glances towards the stand where Aamir and Preity were perched, with the innocent hope that they would somehow magically look back at me and wave.

The match ebbed and flowed but surely Dhoni and Yuvraj wouldnt shatter 1.2 billion dreams.

The script was too good to be spoilt and God had to be kind.

The runs diminished fast and the game was firmly in India's grasp.

No longer were people content with getting up for the fours alone, they wanted to cheer every ball. Dhoni and Yuvraj struck feisty blows to run down the target to 4 off 11 balls.

Then the moment arrived and what a way to seize it.

Dhoni slammed the next ball into space, no one cared where it landed, it soared on the strength of a billion prayers. 

The stadium erupted, the fans went ballistic, the players congregated and emotions poured out.

It was a sight to see Sachin running onto the pitch like a kid who had finally got his favourite toy. Words failed where tears of joy took over.

The whole gamut of positive emotions enveloped the stadium, the city and the country.

Soon after, the trophy that mattered was in India's hands.

This was what the Nation, the Players and most importantly, Sachin had craved for.

The entire stadium was, as Tony Greig would put it, dancing in the aisles, screaming their lungs out, crying themselves hoarse and yes, they were Bleeding Blue.

I thought the scenes inside Wankhede were breathtaking but outside it was crazier than all imagination.

There were thousands and thousands of people out on the streets celebrating arguably the biggest moment in India's sporting history.

Their joy knew no limits and feared no boundaries. This was bigger than any election, more sacred than any festival and crazier than any event perceivable.

It showed what the game of cricket means to the nation and how deep our craving for elusive world glory really is.

The crowd was euphoric - people danced and sang everywhere - be it on the streets, on terraces or even on the roof of moving cars.

Its incredible to experience what a simple game can do to the collective mood of a country as large as ours. 

Cricket unites, Cricket excites and Cricket defines India. 

Now, this is the stuff dreams are made of. This is what you live your life for. This was definitely the biggest day in the life of 21st century India and I am grateful to have been a part of it.