As the Cochin-Patna Express arrived at Coimbatore, it was 10 PM, Sunday, the 23rd September 2002. The bogie that I had to board was a different one. Unlike other bogies that carried different passengers to different destinations, all the passengers of this bogie had one common destination, the abode of the Lord and one common objective - worship. It was a holy mission to the famous temples of Orissa and Andhra under the auspicious of Kerala Brahmana Sabha, Thrissur.

As I boarded and settled in my berth, wondering how the hectic days ahead would be, I heard someone advising my fellow passenger in the opposite berth. "Annapurni, nanna pothikko". nalla thanuppu irukku" ("Annapurni, cover yourself properly; it is very cold"). I could not see the person called Annapurni as she had covered herself fully. Now she made some movements by which it became a total coverage. Anyway, thinking that after all I am not going to be in bad company, I too retired for the day.

"I must be stark raving mad to do this. God, I don't want to die on my tracks in this desolate wasteland". I was slowly but surely plodding my way to frostbite and pneumonia in the drenching, sickly cold rain at 12,800 Ft. in a vast snowfield adorned by stark brooding boulders. The thermometer in my shaking gloves showed 2 C, but I knew that the wind chill factor would have brought it down to at least 15 C below zero. You can't blame me, a tropical plainsman, for feeling as I did.

Two days later, I was howling with sheer joy into the whipping wind, marveling at the sheer magnificence of the vista before me at 15,200 ft. above mean sea level. Yes ! I was more than half way up the third tallest peak in the world, Mt.Kanchendzonga (28,208 Ft), I knew it was worth all the effort as I looked around at my teammates who were looking awestruck.

What is rain, amma, asked my two-and-a-half-year-old when he heard me talking about the rains in Oman's interior.

An innocent enough question since his last visit to India was when he was just a year old. And as if the heavens anticipated the curiosity, it rained intermittently the next morning for about two hours.

I could not miss the occasion for anything in the world and sans umbrella and sans regard for advice not to frolic in once-a-year rains, I went downstairs with my son.

Rolling up my faded jeans and hastily dropping a towel over my son's head, we stood watching the rain and feeling the raindrops trickling down our faces. Passing cars splashed muddy water and my son let out squeals of delight. The wonders of rain had finally got to him.

I saw two Japanese fight !

"What's the big thing in it ?", you might think. Believe me ! It was almost as much as a spectacle as the Kyoto Temple or the Mt.Fuji. Because normally, Japanese dont fight. In the strict code of honour and good conduct they live and die by, any public show of emotion is frowned on; raising ones voice or losing ones temper is the worst form of behaviour. Talking loudly or speaking on your mobile in a train are considered to be extremely impolite !