Day 5 - Pachmarhi to Bhoramdeo

6.30 am. Nalini and I were on our way to Bhoramdeo, the Khajuraho of Chattisgarh. The 420 kilometre drive, under normal circumstances, takes around 8 hours or so the guidebooks and google say. In our case, it took us almost 12 hours. The drive in most parts is extremely picturesque, with a short 80 kilometres of four laned highway. The rest of it is all single carriageways, where playing chicken is the norm.

The first leg from Pachmarhi is a narrow set of twisties, extending almost 30 kilometres as it snakes its way down to thee plains. Then it's sugarcane paradise. Mile upon mile of sugarcane fields dot the landscape, with the odd sugarcane juice vendor crushing fresh cane for the thirsty wayfarers. Sugarcane gives way to mustard. A sea of yellow blossoms swaying in the wind, reeking of potential prosperity.

The surface of the roads across this segment varies from pockmarked to glassy - depending on the contractor and commissions paid. Thankfully, the landscape is beyond the control of commerce. Tree-lined roads, thick forests and the odd shimmering lake make one forget the poor quality of tarmac. Distances and time are not directly related in this state. It took us 10 hours to cover 620 km in one state and twelve hours to cover 420 km in another.

We had a late lunch at a small restaurant along the way. It was recommended to us by a local. When we asked at the petrol pump for directions to the restaurant, he casually mentioned that we must have 'seen it on google'. This just goes to show how far 'Google' has gone to become synonymous with the Internet, even in the Hindi heartland.

As we approached the Chattisgarh border, it was already dusk. The surprising fact was that it was barely 5 in the evening. Already lengthening shadows were making their eerie presence felt. This is the reality of life in the East - early sunrises and equally early sunsets.

The last leg of our journey was covered in complete darkness. 6 o clock felt more like 8, as the headlights pierced the night ahead. It took some asking to find the road that led to our destination, Bhoramdeo, The last few kilometres were on a lonely, narrow, forested stretch of road, where one almost expected goblins and trolls to pop out and block our path.

We are the only guests at the Nagori Tourist Lodge. So, we made the most of it, with an impromptu drink on the terrace, with candle light, et al. The piece de resistance was freshly caught river fish, fried and curried to perfection, served along with dinner. I guess it must have been divine providence, given that we are here to pay our respects to Lord Shiva tomorrow morning.

Day 4 - Rambling around Pachmarhi

Our last day in Pachmarhi began like most others, lazily. We began with a languorous breakfast, with curious monkeys as onlookers. Thus sated, we set out to explore Pachmarhi and its environs. Our first halt was the 150 year old Protestant Church, set amidst mildly unkempt lawns. The only piece of historical trivia that I remember is that it was built by the friends and family of an army major of the East Bengal Lancers ( or something like that), in his honour, supposedly after he passed away in the line of duty.

The Church itself, with its stony facade and exterior, stood defiant against the march of time and the blaring of gypsy horns. For us, it was an island of peace, a retreat, a park bench in paradise... And then we stepped into its hallowed confines. Alone in the church, with the resident priest, we could feel the piety of legions that must have prayed here. Today, the Sunday Services in Hindi, with Bhajans instead of hymns and a congregation one can count on one's fingers, are a far cry from the lofty choral notes that must have echoed from the naves in years gone by. Both Nalini and I needed this shot of tranquility, to steel ourselves against the chattering hordes that infested Pachmarhi.

I don't know what it is about North Indians and Paneer. I literally can't stomach it, and they can't seem to get enough of it. So, after having grown tired of requesting every hotel that I frequented not to grace my food with a Paneer like some sort of ritual blessing, and being told 'we don't do that here', I finally slipped. The one day, I forgot to warn the waiter not to place Paneer on my food, my Butter Chicken came to the table like a blushing bride, covered in a veil of ... you guessed it.... Paneer shavings. Paneer on Butter Chicken? Whatever is the world coming to? So Nalini had to devour it all, whether she wanted to or not. Henceforth, I shall be on guard, always.

Back on the tourist trail, we headed through the bazaar to 'Jata Shankar' or the 'Locks of Shankar', which is a mass of boulders that are supposed to resemble Lord Shankar's matted locks, discarded as he escaped from a demon and sought refuge in a cave. The rock formations, though interesting, by no stretch of imagination resemble a set of discarded locks. A staircase leads down to a narrow cave where he sought refuge. Like any religious spot in India, you will find the pious, the curious and the vendors, catering to both. A short spell here, a guide's spiel overhead, and I was ready to head back to ground level.

The last stop on the tourist agenda was the set of 'Pandava caves'. However, how the 5 Pandavas are connected to these 5 Buddhist Viharas is a mystery that even the Archeological Survey of India (ASI) refuse to throw light on. In fact, they steadfastly refuse to divulge anything about these monuments, as if the fate of the country hinged on it. There are 5 boards in various locations informing us that this is a protected monument and warning of dire consequences if one should transgress any of the unwritten rules of conduct in the premises or deface the already caged in viharas or write epics of love on the walls..etc., etc.

The view from the top of the caves of an alluring garden in the shape of a fish in the foreground, and the hills of Pachmarhi in the distance made the climb more worthwhile than exploration of the caves themselves. We could not resist the temptation of laying out the old picnic mat and having a cuppa as the sun set on the Pandava empire....

Back in town, we made a last ditch effort at enjoying a bit of al fresco dining. The thermometer plummeted to sub-endurance levels ( read 14 degrees), the coldest Pachmarhi has witnessed in a gazillion years. So, dining under the stars would have been a recipe for frostbite or that's what the better half thought, anyway. Dinner at China Bowl, another MP Tourism establishment, consisted steaming soup and spicy Hakka Noodles - the revenge of the one who is denied paneer in my presence, out of sheer practicality, not cussedness. How an instruction like 'put less Soya sauce' translates into 'make it fiery hot with chilly powder' escaped me, but that is precisely what happened.


I retreated to Fort Evelyn, my private bastion, licking my wounded palate, as I reached for the nearest chocolate. Thus an eventful day was brought to a close with a round of green tea, served al fresco outside our room. That evening, we packed, loaded the car and were ready to turn in, when raucous laughter put any plans of peaceful slumber to rest. The offending party, our neighbours had decided to share their salacious conversation with the rest of the household, courtesy an 'open door' policy. One that I firmly shut, with a polite request in Gujarati, and a reminder that they were not the centre of the universe. Thankfully, they got the point and the conversation subsided to a murmur, allowing us to sleep in peace...

Day 3 - Pachmarhi - Our first day of real sightseeing

This was a no-alarm, no agenda day. Well after sunrise, close to 8 am, we extricated ourselves from beneath our cozy quilts and decided to take explore Pachmarhi at will. Over the next few hours, we lazed around outside our room, chatting with our host, Mr. Rao, as story after story of life in the army and school life with the who's who of industry poured out. Followed by anecdotes about guests at Evelyn's own and possible plans for the day.

It was almost noon by the time we left our homestay and headed for one of the 'points' at Pachmarhi. A kilometre or so down the road, we followed a retinue of vehicles down an unmarked mud road, till we reached the base of the small climb to 'Handi Kho' - a narrow gorge with a 2000 foot drop. The scene at the viewpoint reminded me of a few lines from a poem that I had written about the Elphinstone College library - " Abandon all hope, ye who enter here, for herein doth silence meet its doom'

The viewpoint area better resembled a fairground, with pony rides and vendors of all hues, hawking their wares. From catapults to coffee and roasted gram, and some games of skill like hitting suspended bottles with a catapult, every diversion was on offer, save the one that most people were really there for... a few minutes of tranquility, as one gazed on nature's wonders.


From this melee, we beat a hasty retreat and drove towards the relatively lesser frequented 'Forsyth Point' or 'Priyadarshini' point - the spot after which Pachmadhi or 'five ranges' is named. Even today, once can see the five ranges that Captain Forsyth did, over a century ago, when he founded this little hamlet.

Thankfully, there were no pony rides or other such distractions at this point. A couple of sour berry 'bor' and gram vendors did brisk business, as kids scampered about making their demands. Selfie sticks and wannabe models made for interesting viewing, along with the glorious vista ahead. We relaxed with a self-made cup of coffee and some 'theplas' under the shade of a tree... soaking in the peace and the view.

I don't know what it is about Indians as a whole and large groups of travellers in particular, who think nothing of desecrating even the quietest spots with commercial and vocal debris, leaving it behind in their wake. They come seeking beauty and peace and shatter it the moment they arrive. It was a good twenty minutes after which the hordes receded, leaving us to our reverie.

Thus sated, physically and metaphorically speaking, we drove on to the 'Mahadev' caves. These caves date back to the legend of the Lord Shankar, as he escaped pursuit from a demon. The caves and temple represent spots where he hid or fought with the demon. The 'Gupt Mahadev' cave is a narrow fissure in the rock which leads to a tiny cave, barely large enough for a few people to stand. Only 8 persons are allowed into this claustrophobic space at a time, sidling sideways as they reach the cave, pay their respects to the small deity within, and leave an offering with the priest sitting there.

Across the parking lot lay the temple of 'Bada Mahdev'. A cavernous structure, with water dripping through the rocks above onto the pilgrims below. One is expected to circumambulate a small reservoir in the middle of the cave, pausing at the shrine of Shankar, pay obeisance and carry on out of the cave. The structure is such that you are forced to bend inwards to avoid hitting your head on the rocks, both as a practical measure as well as a mark of respect to the presiding deity.

I had an incredible feeling of deja vu, as childhood memories of this spot came flooding back. I had seen this cave over forty years ago, and carried the image with me, but forgotten the location. Today, that mystery was solved.

As dusk fell, we drove back to town and spent a pleasant evening devouring steaming pakoras and tea on the lawns of the MP Tourism Resort, Glen View. We were the only souls on the lawns, a special privilege granted, as they set up the area for a party in the evening. An hour later, we were ensconced in the living room of our host, having a drink and sharing pleasant banter. Mr.and Mrs. Rao are a wonderful couple. He is a dapper 76 and hided his age well. She is timelessness incarnate - a trait I have seen in many army wives. Another round of piping hot pakoras, home made this time, helped the alcohol go down quicker. Not to mention the fact that our hosts had a dinner invitation and had to leave at 20;00 hrs - army time!

As city dwellers, we crave the open spaces and al fresco dining. So, any promise of that must be explored. Thus, we found ourselves at Rock End Manor, another wonderful MP Tourism property. Here too, despite a full house, and no al a carte, the management graciously allowed us to dine on the verandah, with a caveat that we could only choose dishes from the buffet. The ambience won over the choice of food, which was delicious to say the least. One waiter was assigned to us and it felt as though we had the hotel to ourselves...

The warmth of the chicken and hot rotis, coupled with a view of open fields and a nip in the air completed the spell. Then came the shock. Their credit card machine was out of operation. The next few minutes saw us rummaging among a plethora of folded bills and bill folds, extracting cash from each, until we had enough to pay for our dinner. The alternative would have been to leave Nalini as hostage, while I drove down to the nearest ATM to withdraw cash. Thankfully, it did not come to that.

The day ended with our de reigeur candlelight and green tea session outside our room. A wind down moment, before we hit the sack.

Bhopal - Pachmarhi - Our first real destination

Day 2 of our journey began at 7.00 am. after a spat with the management of our hotel over the fact that our geyser trickled ice cold water, instead of piping hot. The solution, use any bathroom in the hotel, as we were the only guests.

On the dot of 7, we trooped out of the hotel and headed out into the mist. Mile after mile, the highway unfolded before us through a diaphanous haze. An hour later, we stopped for breakfast at a small roadside eatery. Omelettes, parathas and steaming cups of tea fortified us for the journey ahead.


The 215 km from Bhopal to Panchmarhi is pleasant, but not memorable for any specific reason. The roads are good in most part and meander over rivers and through forests, as they snake their way steadily higher. There is a predominance of curious monkeys, both in the forests, as well as on the hilly road to Panchmarhi. Its obvious that tourists stop and feed them, despite notices requesting them not to. The moment we stopped anywhere near a monkey we were surrounded by simians, waiting for the proverbial treat.

The monkeys advanced slowly, and cautiously, with an air of expectation around them. Having experienced what a bunch of monkeys can do, if they decide to get vicious, I decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and left the monkeys to their devices.
The final leg of the journey is a winding, narrow, 22 km long single lane highway that ascends almost 800 metres, to a height of 1050 metres from the base. A driver's skill and nerves, as well as his intuition are put to the test. Cars hurtle around corners without so much as a 'peep'. We arrived in Pacmarhi around lunchtime, and ate at an MP Tourism resort - a 100 year estate now converted into a tourist home. Even today the old world charm is very much apparent.


Post lunch, we checked in to 'Evelyn's Own' - a charming homestay which will be our home for the next few days. Run by the dignified Mr. and Mrs. Rao, the homestay is straight out of a picture post-card. Warm, yet quaint, with marginally overgrown foliage, it's just the kind of place I like.

After a short nap and a cup of tea, we set out to explore the environs of the city. As the sun set over the horizon, we found ourselves by a lakeside, alone, listening to the sounds of the migratory birds settling in for the night, and in the distance...the city gearing up for an evening of commerce and consumption. Every once in a while, a jeep whizzed past, horns blaring, shattering the serenity. And then, for a few moments, it seemed as though we were in another world...

From the tranquility of our homestay to the hubbub of a bustling market, screeching horns, chattering Gujarati tourists and ambling, cows, they seemed lie two worlds apart. The Gujaratis make their presence felt through sight, sound and hard cash. They're everywhere, conversing loudly, haggling, asking the world to Ghatkoparise everything. A conversation with a tea vendor said it all. A middle aged man asked him to make strong 'Gujarati' chai, instead of the way he was used to making it - mild and sweet. The whole purpose of travel is to experience different cultures, cuisines and lifestyles - not merely to tick sights off a bucket list. Someday, I hope that they will eschew the 'been there, seen that culture' and really experience the places they visit.

Back at our little nest, we relaxed under a moonlit sky, with a cup of freshly brewed green tea and candlelight for company. It was almost ethereal. The perfect way to end a pleasant day.

Chattisgarh Calling - Day 1 - Nashik to Bhopal

5.30 am, saw me rising from the confines of my cozy bed at the Ibis, Nashik. In an hour's time, we were packed and ready to roll. 600 odd kilometres of tarmac lay between us and our destination for the night, Bhopal. Fortified with green tea, leftover sandwiches and few biscuits, we were on our way. A misty haze had settled over the environs of Nashik city. The highway opened up ahead of us as we left the city behind, dodging vehicular behemoths as we made our escape. The landscape varied from miles of vineyards to ambiguous scrub land, parched, waiting for rain. Three hours later, we stopped at a small roadside eatery for breakfast.

Traditional Maharashtrian snacks like poha and piping hot kachoris accompanied by sweet tea sufficed to fill our bellies, and prepare us for the rest of the journey. The roads on this sector are excellent, but the driving discipline of the users leaves much to be desired. Overloaded trucks trundle alongside at a snail's pace, suicidal motorcyclists with kamikaze tendencies dart out from the undergrowth as if to throw themselves at oncoming vehicles, in a last ditch effort to disable them.

Vehicles of every shape, size and lack of power hog the right lane, unmindful of other wheeled brethren who have also paid hefty toll charges to share a few feet of tarmac. Driving here is an exercise in patience and restraint. That being said, the drive to Bhopal was a pleasant one. Every once in a while, the road would be covered by a canopy of trees, giving way to flower lined dividers on dual carriageways and fields under cultivation.


Today is Diwali and most restaurants are preparing for an evening 'pooja' or prayer session. Hence, we had to hunt for one that was willing to serve us lunch, while carrying on with their own preparations! By 6.oo pm, we had arrived in Bhopal, and found ourselves at the home of a friend an colleague whose family lives here. This evening, we shall be having a Diwali repast with Jay and his family. Life's little surprises. Tomorrow, we are off to Panchmarhi, a hill station I last visited 40 years ago!

Tweets from the tub -The here and now of our Digital environment

“The weirdest place I have tweeted from is my bathtub., Sejal, 20, Delhi. “I once took out my laptop in the middle of the jungle and checked my FB account during a hike!”, Anumita, 23, Mumbai.

These are not extreme cases of addictive behaviour among India’s ‘I’ generation. ‘I’, instant, Internet, and i-phone’ or any other smart phone that keeps them connected to the world. No, keeps them ‘in’ their world. Because to be connected, implies that you are ‘outside’ that world. This IS their world.

Welcome to generation ‘I’.

This is the generation that has taken every possible technology to heart and made it a part of their lives. They are the big spenders and sharp bargainers of tomorrow. They are the ones who are most likely to respond to a message while walking past a Pizza Parlour or a restaurant. But there is more to digital marketing and the digital environment than this generation.

The biggest difference between digital marketing and traditional marketing is that the consumer is not just an audience. He/ she is a producer too. That is the ‘prosumer’

So, here are my thoughts on how technology is already changing the game and will continue to do so in the immediate future.

1. Smart phones are becoming cheaper and smarter

Today, Smart phones or phones with Internet Capability and cameras have dropped prices to become affordable to a wide range of customers. So what does this mean?

- More and more people across various strata of society and geographies will shoot, share and upload material from their phones

- Mobile blogging will increase and suddenly the number of people with a public opinion will explode

- India already has one of the highest densities of mobile phone users in the world – and it’s growing fast

- Instances like the Mumbai Police Face Book page, encouraging people to capture offenders in the act and complain using their mobiles is only the beginning of a trend… the truly empowered consumer and friend (or enemy)

- Mobiles with high speed connectivity can replace video cameras for sting operations

2. All hail 3G

- 3G enabled phones will encourage high speed downloads of freebies from companies and sharing of music and videos with friends

- Sponsored cricket highlights/ sporting highlights can be beamed directly to phones

- Google TV beamed the IPL last year. This year you could see it on your phone!

- Huge potential for mobile advertising, as the mobile becomes a personal OPT-in audio / video delivery mechanism


3. The mobile becomes even more indispensable

- The possibilities for mobiles adding value to a person’s life are limited only by the imagination. And this is beyond metros, right into the heartland.

- Illiterate farmers are receiving Voice Messages about weather, crop sowing, seeding, harvesting, and the status of their produce, on its way to the market. Now you can see agri-companies lining up.

- Alerts for everything from medicines to movie timings are on the rise. They can be tagged with the name of the product and sponsored by the relevant company and delivered for free/ or a price.

- Free advice on cosmetics and hair care, timely alerts on baby care depending on the bay’s age…the list is endless.

- Mobile wallets let you do away with credit cards and carrying plastic. Now, you can check flight schedules and buy a ticket from the beach!

- Mobile Groups (like BBM) groups are living online. They are common interest groups and the perfect option for targeted, value added communication and commerce. E.G. Offer members of a biking group with accessories, gear etc., at a special rate Give them special information, invitations – the trick is to get them to WANT you in…

- Deliver M coupons and enable redemption from the phone – without a physical terminal anywhere. The browse and buy happens on the phone!


4. We seek him here, we seek him there… that dammned elusive consumer

GPS and Geo tagging have changed the rules of the game. Now, instead of hunting for the consumer, let him come towards you and then spring the honey trap.

- Geo tagging and locational tagging now allow you to push out a message to people in a particular area at a particular time. So a Pizza chain can send out a special lunch offer to those people in the vicinity at lunch time

- People who are driving in an area using GPS can receive a voice prompt through the GPS or a spoken special offer – if they wish (opt –in). A single button acceptance delivers an M- coupon directly to the phone.

- Digital/ Interactive signs enable communication with wi-fi/ bluetooth enabled phones. So, you can push out special offers in a mall or enclosed area and encourage interactivity, downloads, uploads, offers - just about anything.

- The phone acts as a unique identifier for customer interaction.
Make me feel special and make my life easier – NOW!

- Most mobile users use regular FM radio on their handsets. With digital radio, the mobile allows instant response, purchase and rewards. So now, you can enter and win a contest while jogging at the race course and have the reward coupon delivered to you! Imagine a reminder to take your health drink, after a run – while you are running at the race course.

5. Welcome to our world, if we let you in…

Yes. There’s a world of opportunity out there in the digital world. The big difference is that you need to make yourself feel welcome.

- ‘Opt-in’ is the key to a digital consumer’s life. Privacy rules are becoming increasingly tough. So don’t think you can barge through the digital divide.

- Make yourself welcome. Offer freebies, information, specials, personalisation and recognition.

- Twitter groups and Face Book groups are groups of real people who also meet offline. So your online interaction gives you a chance to be a part of their offline world too.

- Monitor their behaviour and make offers that are relevant

- Be seen as a friend, not a commercial entity and then invite your friends for a special premier, pre–sale viewing, an opportunity to experience a product before anyone else does.

- Ask for an honest opinion, respect it and respond appropriately.

- Our world is everywhere. In India, surprisingly, much more Internet based shopping (everything including some pretty upmarket brands) happens in tier II and tier III towns.

- Encourage instant responses. For example, SMS or brief reviews of a hotel and restaurant an be uploaded immediately on a travel website or restaurant review site and receive instant rewards.

- Present contextual advertising on Face Book pages depending on the person’s profile, likes, or even status updates.

- Twitterati – Twitter celebrities who are heroes in their own right. Twitter has become a world of its own. People tweet to find information (instead of using a search engine) and get information from people who know. It’s faster, more focussed and more personal.

- Twitter Helplines/ connections for everything from travel to blood donation have changed the way people connect for information or to help – or reach out for help!

- Twitter communities help each other find business partners anywhere in the world, suggestions in foreign cities, and much more. Need a cosy restaurant in NY? Tweet from your tub!

- Facebook has a huge marketplace where people can meet and buy and sell stuff, without ever stepping into a shop.

- And virtual worlds are literally that. Virtual worlds where people and companies can interact as in the real world. The big difference is that the opportunity to enhance an experience, add value and grow loyalty is huge in the virtual world.

- Make me feel welcome, even if I can’t see too well or hear too well.If you go out of your way, to make your website accessible to me, chances are that I will buy your product over someone else. In the UK and other countries, it’s a legal necessity.

- Instant communication, connectivity and consumerism are a heady cocktail that can backfire very badly on a company that does not provide good service. All it takes is one SMS or tweet about a bad experience or a warning about getting ripped off to spread like wild fire. The company will have a major damage control activity on their hands. Mobile videos and images, quickly uploaded on YouTube of Facebook make a very compelling argument against using a company’s products/ services.


6. The future is not out there. It’s right here… in your tub!

From computer devices that let you smell perfume remotely to mobile apps that let you translate signs across the world … the list is endless. It’s up to us to make the most relevant and engaging experience every day… no matter where our consumer may be, or what they may be doing!
Finally, it’s up to him or her to let you in or shut you out.

Do let me have your opinions on or links to ….
a) Outstanding outreach activities that you think have taken digital marketing to the next level or
b) Technological opportunities that allow you to do so….

Tweet or drop me a line….

Email: gypsycy@gmail.com
Linked – In: http://in.linkedin.com/pub/cyrus-dadachanji/0/30b/216
Twitter: www.twitter.com/gypsycy
Website: www.gypsytales.com

Looking fowrard to hearing from you
Cyrus Dadachanji aka Vagabondis Perenialis Digitalis

Buddy Guy, BBM and Badnam Munni bring on the blues!

The recently concluded Mahindra Blues Fest was a treat or the senses, an eye-opener, a laugh riot and an utter rip off (in parts), all rolled in to one rocking weekend!

Two days, six acts, three thousand Rupees. A fair equation if each of the acts was as good as the other or even somewhere close to the Legend, Buddy Guy himself.

Let’s go in reverse and start with the rip off. Ex DJ and TV presenter Luke Kenny singing the Blues? You know just what to expect when he comes on stage and says ‘Blues and Rock N Roll’ in the same breath. It pretty much stretches all six strings to breaking point. For the next hour or so (one of those very, very long hours) one wondered what on earth he was doing up there, with no pretensions of being a Blues singer. Since when does ‘ Roll Over Beethoven’ feature on a Blues line Up. Oops. I forgot about the Rock n’ Roll bit, mentioned earlier. There goes 500 bucks.

Next!! Now we’re talking some down n dirty feminist, ballsy, guy bashing stuff. Welcome Shemeika Copeland, all five feet of power packed dynamite. And boy could she sing and strut her stuff!

Mississippi, Memphis, New York, New Orleans and her grandma Jessie’s Church. This was one roller coaster ride that had as many curves as Ms. Copeland and then some more. Shemeika bared her soul and through her music and left us wondering which poor sod messed around with her. He was in almost every song – in spirit at least. Thankfully, Shemeika showed her true Blue roots, and lived up to her ole daddy Copeland’s name, all right. Now, there’s hope….

Hope which was quickly squashed like a bug under a guitar distorter. Along came L’il Johny Lang and God alone knows what he sang. Whatever it was, it wasn’t the Blues. Which just reaffirmed the thought that no matter how hard he may try, a White man just can’t sing the blues.

It had nothing to do with the origin, but everything to do with hundreds of years of pain borne by a race, purely because of their colour. For when those
‘coloured’ guys sing the blues, the Gods could weep.

Li'l Jhonny shredded his guitar and our ear rums along with it. He screeched and hollered and sent us all running towards the bar. Where of course, the rip off continued unabated. Three hundred bucks for a small peg of whisky in a plastic glass? Have a few and you’re looking at one more concert ticket over the weekend!

Day One. Strike two. Strike three and you’re out, Mahindra Blues.

On day two, I realised that there is a God above. And he sent down an Angel from Shillong.

The band was Soul Mate, but I’m sure every hot blooded guy at Stage 1 wanted that Blues singing angel as a ‘soul mate’. The band knew their stuff and their lead signer could charm the devil himself. Now we’re talking!
Soul mate belted out one blues riff after another and had everyone screaming or more. A good beginning.

The next act for the day, just before the legend, was the Matt Scofield trio. One look at this tall blond guitarist with a wicked grin placed him right up there in Hollywood, an Axe murderer or serial killer in a B grade movie. But if there was an ounce of boredom in the room, this guitar toting ‘ axeman’
killed that too. Matt is a very talented blues guitarist and kept the audience going for an hour or so, with blues from various parts of America.

For a Blues Lover like me, this was a real treat unfolding. The disasters of day one were now a distant memory. As Matt skipped from one city to another, changing his bluesy riffs as he went along, my eyes wandered amongst the audience.

There were all the usual suspects. People I’ve been seeing year after year at innumerable Blues and Jazz festivals. But there were many people who seemed to be attending a blues festival for the first time in their lives. Pretty women in their chic black dresses, happily swaying to the beat, trying to figure out what the fuss was all about.

Then there were the BBMers – Black Berry Maniacs, frantically texting, BBMing and uploading pix throughout the concert. It just goes to show that the average person’s attention span and threshold to ‘not connect’ has gone down to about 30 seconds.

I also encountered the ‘record the whole concert’ monster lurking ominously behind me. Arm outstretched in a state of rigor mortis, clutching a mobile camera for 2 hours, he did not flinch an inch. One false move and that mobile would have gone flying intro the audience. And believe me, I was tempted to make a few of them…. Our man fearlessly followed his calling, probably missing every bit of music and the real energy around him. Well I hope he enjoys his 3000 rupee video clip!

Every once in a while a ‘whoo hooo’ would pierce the air, followed by a loud round of applause. As my eyes skipped across the audience like a languorous slow hand strum, I spotted him.

For a minute, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Here was this portly chap, possibly a bit tanked up, but high spirited for sure. I have no idea what he’d been smoking, but he was burning up the floor all right. It did not matter what tempo the music was at, he was like an old 45 going on 78 RPM. I couldn’t help laughing as I saw him gyrate to that blues guitar. He would have given Munni an inferiority complex and made her truly ‘ badnaaam’.

At 9.00 p.m, the moment we had all been waiting for was upon us. The man, the legend, Buddy Guy walked on stage. For anyone who knows anything about the Blues, Buddy Guy needs no mention. Suffice to say that he is not just way up there with the greats he is one of them!

For then next two hours, the youngest man in the room was 74 years young, which also happens to be the first track on his latest CD. Old Buddy showed ‘em how it should be done. H strutted, whistled, clucked, cussed, played and charmed the pants ( and skirts) of every one in the room. It’s one thing to play the blues guitar like he can – it’s another to pay it with a drumstick, tongue, teeth an even a duster cloth. This was guitar fireworks at its best, without missing a riff.

Buddy’s band was a league apart from anything that we had heard in the last two days. He threatened never to leave the stage and we would have been happy if he would have fulfilled his threat. The finale came with Buddy calling Shemeika, Matt and Johnny back on stage for a crazy jam. Buddy gave us ‘fever’ but Shemeika was the sweetest antidote to it, and the chemistry between them had to be seen to be ‘believed’.

I think our dancing ‘Munni’ caught the ‘fever’ too, as he over heated and simply melted away. Thank heaven for small mercies. A bolt of lightning struck the raised arm of ‘rigor mortis recorder’ and he let go of his mobile to applaud!!

It was a night of red hot blues all right. And now that it’s all over, I guess I’ll have to listen to my free Buddy Guy CD, and wait for next year…..


Bombed, bluesed, but not busted…
Gypsycy