He had been scared shit of heights since the day he saw his father jump from the roof of his house. He was nine then. Almost thirty years later, he was ready to jump himself. But this time from a peak higher than the cumulative heights of the Himalyan peaks. From a zenith he had strived to achieve all his life, from a stature encased in his dreams, from a height he was never born to achieve, but, yet had achieved, no matter how or what went into the chase of that dream. He had realised the goal of his life, a feat not many have been able to achieve. He opened his hand and held his father's suicide note, "Dreams are dreams, never meant to be realised, that's why the bubble bursts everytime you open your eyes to the world, today my bubble has burst." That day he had known he would prove this false and today he had done it, noone could deny it, and yet he was preparing to give it all away.
"Have you even read it, Roy?"
Roy clenched his fist and looked up in shock and caught sight of the red file folder that Aron was engrossed in reading. Ah! The skeleton file, thought Roy.
"Well absolutely, Aron! I've made that file with these very hands. How could I not have read it?"
"But that means that Starlite Roy's shares are roughly valued three times more than they actually are worth! That's insane! How could you survive all these years without being detected ever?"
"Ah! That's but an art you shall learn in your own sweet time, buddy.." He placed a warm hand on Aron's luxurious satin lapels, "The point, my friend, here is that even at its actual value, the shares make me the richest man on this planet. And I'm offering you all that, my shares, my assets, my goodwill, all patents, trademarks and all rights to my empire for what it's actually worth. And no one knows of this besides us two friends and the four walls of this room." He looked up to the thirty-foot ceiling of his office measuring hundred feet in each direction and then to the oak panelling and flooring that decked the office.
"But that's ridiculous Roy! Even if you are selling me all this, why tell me the truth? Haven't you always said never make a cocktail of your business and your personal life, it makes you puke? And if you are actually doing this because I'm your closest friend, then I refuse to accept the offer, because this is suicide, Roy, suicide. You've given your living soul to all this, I won't let you throw it away so callously!"
"Aron, if I you have ever valued my friendship, you shall not bargain with me on this. If you are not willing to take up the offer, I shall auction my estate and this skeleton file shall be in the morning papers. Are you prepared for the consequences that shall befall me in that case?"
"Oh Roy, Roy, please understand. Why do you want to leave it all here? You could take Starlite Roy to the pinnacles which noone has achieved. Tell me what disturbs you, share with me what troubles you, dear friend, I'm there for you!"
"Aron! Do not ask this of me, trust me, trust our friendship and accept the offer."
Aron looked up at the glass roof, clouds had begun to build up, picked his pen and signed the deal. Then he flung the skeleton file into the fireplace, without a word wrote out a cheque for twenty billion dollars, left it on Roy's table and stomped out of the office as a swarm of anger and emotion gushed down his cheeks. Roy picked up the cheque as a smile difficult to decipher adorned his lips. A boisterous stroke of lightening resounded and the skies opened up. Roy crossed his hands and stood watching the raindrops hit the huge glass window with a storm-like tempest.

DAY THREE:- LEURA VILLAGE AND THE JAMISON COAL MINE



The alarm rang exactly at 6 A.M. and neither of us got up to switch it off, 5 minutes later I snoozed it and 15 minutes later it rang again. By the time I got out of bed and rubbed my eyes it was 6:30. I woke up the wife. Post some morning cuddling, we brushed, changed, skipped bath and hurried to the hotel lobby for breakfast. Carrying only a few snacks, a bottle of water and our digicam, we reached the foyer at 5 minutes past 7 only to be informed that our pickup had come and left. We groaned, hitched a cab till Star City, (cost us 10 dollars for what would have been a 10-minute walk), which was the last pickup point of the coach. An aged Sikh couple from Delhi stood with their voucher in hand unable to figure out where they were scheduled for the day. Apparently they were to be a part of our coach and I told them to wait alongside. Shortly, the coach arrived, we handed over the voucher and boarded it and were off to the Blue Mountains, Jamison Valley & the steepest train ride of the world and the Featherdale Zoo.

A particular thing I noticed in Australia and New Zealand was that the coach driver doubled up as the travel guide. So our coach driver-cum-tourist guide was Matthew, a balding, greying but a likable gentleman in his late forties informed us that the journey would be about 4 hours and we'd be taking a stop at Leura Village on our way to see the Three Sisters, Blue Mountains and thereon to the Jamison Valley. Matthew started out telling us about the Aussie heritage and history, geographical features, wildlife, landmarks, lifestyles, which interested me a lot and put the wife to sleep. Slowly we left the hustle bustle of Sydney city Monday morning and moved on to the suburbs and as habitation receded, we got a toast of rare natural beauty. In about an hour and a half we reached Leura where we stopped for half an hour for tea/coffee.

Nothing, I repeat nothing was above two floors in Leura and the fragrance rendered a sense of deja vu. We stopped by at a church which was apparently closed down but it had a lawn which was full of lovely dry leaves that had fallen as autumn had just begun. A short walk brought us to the main market lane, which was dotted with numerous trees and shrubs with rare varieties of magnolia flowers in unimaginable hues and the sky was as if it was lit up with the colours of the flowers and we took ample photographs. It was a very peaceful place and the people went about their work in a very leisurely manner unlike the city where pedestrians walked faster than cars. Additionally, most of the population consisted of people from Australian or European origin again different from the city where Asians outnumbered them by millions.


In about an hour from our departure from Leura we reached a mountainous area and a huge valley known as the Jamison Valley. Three conjoined rotund-at-the-top rocky structures formed the end of the mountains while hazy mountains formed the backdrop at the horizon. We were informed these are known as the Three Sisters in Australian folklore. The story goes that a magician father turned his three daughters into stone and himself into a bird to save them from a man-eating bear, and lost his magic skittle when his hands turned into wings. And to this day he flies in the valley looking for the lost orb. However, it might be taken as my personal opinion that, though the blue mountains and the three sisters were a sight to behold, they frankly do not live up to the hype built around them. Although it would have been a different story had we visited the Jenolan caves, which we had to unfortunately skip owing to time considerations. As we were through with the photo-ops of the three sisters and the vast Jamison Valley, we were led to the Scenic Valley coal mine area, where the world's steepest train ride would take us right into the depth of the Jamison Valley, which promised considerable excitement.
It is known as the old railway or the scenic railway, with a 52 degree incline, this old cable train is the steepest in the world. It takes you deep into the heart of the 19th century coal mine (now dysfunctional) situated in the Jamison Valley. From where the train drops you, there is a dainty walkway built within the lethargic rain forest typically comprising of birch trees. On the path you can see the entrance of the ancient coal mine and you can have a look at the remains of the mine which have now been resurrected. In the forest broken coal carts are visible which were used to ferry coal. From the end of the walkway, a cable car takes you flying over the valley back to the summit where a souvenir shop and a cafe greet you. You can buy your own photographs as you zip down the scenic railway which are taken by an automated camera installed.
After a light meal and ice-cream, we boarded the bus yet again for the Featherdale Zoo, which ironically is located in the suburbs of Sydney. Featherdale is a wildlife park and as we entered, we were greeted by the curator with a baby kangaroo wrapped up because of the cold. We were told the name kangaroo actually means, "I don't know/I don't understand". When Captain Cook discovered Australia he saw the kangaroo and asked the local, what is this large grasshopper called and they replied "Kangaroo! Kangaroo!". That's how the name stuck. Hilarious but true. As we moved further we reached an enclosure where a herd of kangaroos fiddled around. After the initial hesitation, we realised they were quite harmless and touched their fur and played with them. The park housed a wild variety of fauna, especially the tasmanian birds, housed in aviaries. Apart from the kangaroos, we saw the koalas, wombats, emus, tasmanian devils and even our own Bengal tigers. And we stamped our Featherdale passport with stamps of the animals we saw and we had collected all stamps by the time we were through and the sun had disappeared to reveal a saffron dusk over the wildlife park.

As we moved away from the Featherdale Zoo, I reminisced over the events of the day and smiled at the tiring yet very informative and enjoyable day. Our coach started on its journey into the city and on the way, Mathew gave us an unscheduled complimentary tour of the Sydney Olympic Village. It was a truly a sight to behold, the grandeur of the infrastructure. We stared in awe at the aesthetics of the design. We were informed that Sydney, by far, is presently the most prepared venue for the Olympic Games and if it were scheduled for Sydney, they can be up and going in three weeks, that's all! The city was all hustling and bustling and we looked so lost what with having spent the entire day in virtually uninhabited areas. We jumped off at Darling Harbour, the only place we knew we could find some palatable Indian Vegetarian food. We chose rice, whole gram dumplings curry (kadi pakora), spiced beans (rajmah masala) and black lentils in butter gravy (dal makhani) with Indian breads. A wholesome meal (which we had to reluctantly share with storks) later, we strolled around the harbour, sat for a while, enjoyed the breeze and walked down to our hotel amidst alluring fountains of all shapes and sizes, which as I said was a 10-minute walk. And dozed off without even thinking about anything else.

DAY TWO:- ADVENTURE AT KING'S CROSS:-
(WARNING:- MATURE SUBJECT MATTER. PARENTAL GUIDANCE ADVISED FOR MINORS)


So we landed in Sydney to a very pleasant breezy climate. It was a Sunday morning and not much activity was there to behold and our first impression (which we were to realise soon was not the last one) of Sydney was of a quaint peaceful metropolis, there weren't even casual morning joggers despite the fact that the Sydney running festival was just around the corner. The Municipality staff was at its task working in its resigned enthusiasm. As we entered Pitt Street from the corner of Liverpool Street, we were greeted by the security taped entrance of what seemed a nightclub, with about half a dozen cops walking briskly and talking in hushed tones and it clearly seemed the scene of a crime. As soon as the initial curiosity passed, I turned my thoughts on the day that lay ahead. I knew one thing for sure, we needed some sleep and were only too glad as we reached Rydges World Square. The concierge welcomed us and took possession of our two hefty suitcases and guided us to the reception where we were greeted by a cute oriental girl in her early twenties and her eyes showed she had been on night duty.

I gave my name and told her we had reservation, she barely smiled and in a very cold manner refused to give us an early check-in and offered the lobby sofa till 2 P.M. How gracious I thought, I checked the watch, it was 8 o clock. I groaned and wondered why the heck do they have a check-in time of 2 P.M. when the worldwide standard is 12 noon. I tried explaining to her that we have had a very long flight but she was adamant and the duty manager was nowhere to be seen. Resigned to our fate, the wife chose to doze off on the sofa itself and I started checking out some travel guide books. By 10 o clock a slow trickle of people began checking out, I heaved a sigh of relief. Momentarily the duty manager appeared, an oriental gentleman this time. In the same cold manner that the receptionist had, he also politely refused. On a little persuasion he agreed to see what can be done. He returned about 45 minutes later and offered a smoking room, no less. He must have read on my face how glad I was! The receptionist handed over our travel vouchers and carefully tore off the one she needed, punched my credit card for security and handed over the keys to our room. Our luggage had barely arrived in our room that we fell off to sleep.


I woke up to see the bedside clock showed 4 o clock, the wife was still snoring. I was suddenly so hungry, so I boiled water in the kettle and helped myself to instant noodles. Feeling thirsty I reached out for the water bottle by the bedside, the tag read $4 for 600 ml of water. So much for hospitality! Quite content now, I called home and assured we were absolutely fine. Next call to MSM, an old school friend but a great one nevertheless. MSM has been living in Sydney for the past four years and is now a permanent resident and who I was so looking forward to meeting. Apparently her office was about a 5-minute walk from my hotel and she promised to be at my hotel in an hour. By the time the concierge called to inform that the lady has come visiting, both of us had showered and were fresh enough to plan out the evening.

MSM walked into the room in a pretty red short dress and settled down on the sofa and talk veered to our school days. She updated me on her upcoming wedding and all the preparations going into it. I suggested we go to King's Cross for dinner (I had a hidden motive which I shall outline later) and she called up her fiancee, he readily agreed to join in. VG (fiancee) met us at the entrance of the Museum train station entrance. An automated machine issued tickets for the two of us, our hosts had passes. A 10-minute wait and then we boarded the local train on our way to King's Cross and in another 15 minutes we jumped off at the King's Cross station.

King's Cross is the drugs and red light capital of Sydney, dotted with numerous strip clubs, restaurants with topless waitresses and that was the reason we had planned on it, not for the sleazefest but for the aesthetic delight of being part of a concept, thankfully not as indiscreet a part of the world we live in. We chose Aporto, a fast food chain and a burgers, fries and cokes were just about enough to appease our appetite. We had a casual stroll, saw some amazing fountains (see pic) and watched the "denizens" of the area display their wares and tout for customers. By 11 o' clock the place was buzzing with activity despite being a Sunday. Our hosts excused themselves since they had a Monday coming up and now to ourselves we decided to check out a strip club! This one was called 'Sydney Showgirls' and a board read 'Entry 25 dollars', the bouncer pocketed the 50-dollar note I gave him (I was later to realise that ladies entry was free!). A corny looking waitress asked me what would I desire, it took me a moment to realise she was asking about drinks and ordered a beer and the wife chose an aerated beverage. The stage was about 2 ft. above the ground and about 200 sq. ft. in area. Two strippers in bare minimum were busy hugging poles set in the middle of the stage as groups of guys and a few middle aged-men mostly of oriental origin crowded around drinks in hand watching with unbatted eyelids. A seductive saxophone blared in the background. A twenty-dollar note was offered to one of the dancers from an oriental group of men and within seconds of pocketing the note the dancer was down to her birthday suit. It was amazing to see the efficiency with which she unhooked the sundry hooks. Her agility and flexibility were matchless as she maneuvered around the pole clinging to it as if for dear life. Another twenty-dollar note saw the dancer lie down on the stage and cross her legs around the gentleman's neck bringing her "femininity" within breathing distance of the gentleman's lips. On the other side, dancer no.2 had started to undress in the similar tick-tock unhook fashion and started giving a wacko lap dance to a pimply, freckled guy (seemed a teenager to me). Two other dancers joined the party as the two former dancers, still as naked as truth can be, bowed down and went off. And soon the new comers were busy unhooking their itsy-bitsy attires. As things started getting a little predictive for us backbenchers we decided to take our own leave. The clock showed 11:30.
Outside just opposite on the street was Madame Pimpella's and it won't take a genius to figure out what the premises was all about. A group of hookers in loud provocative dress-ups were busy making cat calls to prospective customers calling out "See a lady?" to whoever did not have a female companion (and that saved me from the cat calls). As we walked down the pavement, a hooker was rubbing the crotch of a middle-aged gentleman giving him a sample of what he might just get and this intimidated the wife a little and suddenly even I started feeling it was time to go back. We took a cab, consciously avoiding taking the trains and in about 20 minutes were at the hotel. Inside the elevator, I inserted the key card into the slot and the lift promptly took us to the 12th floor. I checked the itinerary. Tomorrow was the tour to Blue Mountains and the pickup was at 7 a.m. I groaned. We are on a holiday guys, for crissake!

DAY ONE:- THE DEPARTURE


We Hindus have a particular significance and an intransigent fixation with vermilion or sindoor as it is known to us. It marks departure as well as welcome. So it was on this fortunate morning our foreheads were stained with vermilion and an additional few grains of rice to complete the effect that my teary eyed family members wished us luck and bid us adieu at the newly furbished Indira Gandhi International Terminal, New Delhi. I touched my parent's feet and so did the wife as is customary and our journey began with our foray at the Qantas Airlines check-in counter. Well before time, we filled up our immigration forms and were very quickly through the security check, luggage checked-in and handbag in tow, we settled down at the boarding lounge. I caught a cup of coffee and checked out the newspaper while my only companion tried out some refreshing bread pakoras.


Eventually boarding began and amidst all the hullabaloo between the Jet Airways staff and owners we managed to board the aircraft for our 5-hour plus journey to Singapore, where we would be changing planes. A nice window seat, I reclined my chair and quickly plugged in the headphones because I neither had the patience nor the inclination to hear the oft-repeated aircraft safety procedures. Half an hour after an uneventful take off, breakfast was served which was, as expected hardly edible, both of us just had a couple of fruit slices, orange juice and just simply set aside the food trays. In-flight entertainment was really good, so I watched 'The Hangover' and 'The Dark Knight' and I was hardly done with the latter that Changi Airport, Singapore was announced.


Changi Airport is spread in about 1300 hectares, has 92 aerobridge carousels for boarding and unboarding and sees about 70 million passengers every year, distinguishably among the busiest and largest airports of the world and for me it has always been a visual delight, I absolutely adore Harry's and the Cactus Garden on Terminal 1. We had a two hour stop and I must admit this time passed away so fast that we didn't even realise, such is the exuberance of Changi Airport. And this time we had a huge British Airways plane and our business class seats were like sofas. The food here also was horrible, but I did take in a couple of drinks so that I could sleep off during the flight as it was eight and a half hour long. Funny that even though we were traveling on a Qantas ticket with Qantas boarding cards, neither of the two flights were operated by Qantas. I soon fell asleep on these thoughts, only to wake up and find that there were still four hours to go, the flight plan showed that we were hanging somewhere above waters and I couldn't figure out where. Nevertheless I took a coffee and set down to watch 'Borat', which was actually very amazing, a rare thing for Oscar winners. I might just write a blog review of Borat (and the animated protagonist, whose sister was number four prostitute in Kazakhstan), but that's another story!


By the time we safely landed on the runway of Kingsford Smith International Airport, Sydney, the date had changed and it was 7 A.M. local time and the watches were adjusted accordingly and I realised I had crossed 24 hours in a span of 16 hours. It was a chilly morning and the Sydney morning air had the effervescence we so desire in the Delhi air. Our transport was ready and we were soon dropped off at the Rydges World Square, our accommodation for the next 3 days, and it was just a 10 minute walk from the famous Darling Harbour which we realised only after spending about 50 dollars in cabs, a little too late to our chagrin.