Me and my aunt - Favourites always... 1981?

Somewhere in Michigan - Dad and I c. 1983

More of Michigan at the model western railroad - with mom and some kids of family friends c. 1983

At Disney World with mom c. 1983

Dad and sleepy me at the Washington memorial - There's Pot Belly my favourite teddy bear in Dad's hand. Still have it. Still a favourite. c.1983

Veronica Mama - my babysitter in Nigeria. "She was the best babysitter ever," according to mom. This was taken in Ketu c. 1985

At London Zoo with mom, aunt, grand-aunt and cousin - 1984

At aunt's place in London - 1984

With Uncle and cousins on the 'flashy' lambretta at paternal grandmom's place - 1987

(The photographs featured in this post are the sole property of the author of this blog)

(The photographs featured in this post are the sole property of the author of this blog)

ABIGAIL (Japan), CAUCHEMAR (Canada) and DYING EMBRACE (India) have just been confirmed to headline the second TRENDSLAUGHTER FEST on January 29th 2012, in Bangalore, India. According to the organizers (Cyclopean Eye Productions/Trendslaughter crew), the festival has been created to “bring Bangalore the best of underground metal by getting both foreign acts and local bands together and thereby creating a rock solid underground movement to spearhead the Heavy metal culture in India.” The fest will also have local support from Death/Grind band Gorified, old school Deathmetallers Dwesha and Drone/Space Doom rockers Djinn and Miskatonic.

Last year the TRENDSLAUGHTER FEST was headlined by Bangladeshi bestial death/thrash metallers band Orator with local bands Dying Embrace, Bevar Sea, Culminant and Gorified and saw around 200+ fans congregate at the venue at Kyra Theatre, Bangalore, India for a good 8 hours Stoner, Thrash, Brutal Death metal, Death Grind, Doom and Old school Death metal!

Headliners Information :

Abigail:
ABIGAIL is a Japanese black thrash metal outfit that was formed in January of 1992 by Yasuyuki (bass / vocals), Youhei (drums) and Yasunori (guitar) being inspired by early Black / Thrash Metal bands like BATHORY, VENOM, SODOM, BULLDOZER, HELLHAMMER, NME etc. From 1999, the band has heavily toured Europe, Asia, USA countless times appearing on big festivals like Hell Fest, and NWN Fest (Nuclear War Now) among others. The band has nearly 70 releases (which includes full length cds, splits, compilation and live cds/lps) and is one of the most well known bands in Japan today.

Cauchemar:
Cauchemar was founded in 2007 as a collaboration between vocalist Annick Giroux and guitarist François Patry. With the goal of producing eerie, no-frills doomy Heavy Metal, the project eventually turned into a band with the addition of Patrick Pageau (ASILE, ex-BASTARDATOR guitarist) on drums. They have released in 2010 the “La Vierge Noire” MLP on American label Nuclear War Now! Productions, toured Canada, Colombia, Chile and Peru, and are currently writing material for a new album.

About Dying Embrace:
Legendary pioneering Death/Doom act from Bangalore have been in existence for twenty years with releases on international labels (7” vinyl on Legion Of Death Records, France, compliation CD on Psychic Scream, Malaysia) and have had the title of being India’s oldest Death Metal band. This is one band that brings both old metal heads (30+ years olds into Sabbath, Maiden, Priest) and the new breed of metal heads together.

Links to all bands:

Abigail – www.myspace.com/666abigail
Cauchemar- www.facebook.com/cauchemarmetal
Dying Embrace – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2HJGT9YYDSo&feature=related
Gorified – http://www.myspace.com/gorifiedcorpses
Dwhesha – http://www.myspace.com/dhwesha
Djinn and Miskatonic – http://soundcloud.com/djinnandmiskatonic

For further details you can contact…

Sandesh Shenoy (Cyclopean Eye Productions)
sandeshshenoy@gmail.com

(The photographs featured in this post are the sole property of the author of this blog)

Till date, the only actual guns I fired were from Dad’s air rifle. Didn’t do too much damage. I remember when we cousins used to spend the holidays in the estate, we used to line up Grandma’s Pond’s Cold Cream packs against the coffee drying yard walls and fire away. Papayas up on the tree used to be another favourite target with the air gun. In the end, we always ended up with curses from those at home. Fortunately none of us got shot in the foot.

I always wanted to fire the shotguns that lay around the house, just out of reach of our eager hands. We were frightened into accepting the fact that we could dislocate a shoulder or an empty case may fly out into our eyes while firing. The slight fear remained.

Dad finally allowed me to fire his shotgun on the third afternoon of my stay. The old British era shotgun is a classic and real heavy duty as it can rip through a wild boar. With Monkeys roaming around during coffee season near the bungalow and picking on the ripened coffee, we had to ply some fear into this menace.

Fed up with seeing monkeys around the place, Dad finally allowed me to load and carry the shotgun. We entered the thickly forested part of the estate where the monkeys are known to make their home. However the monkeys have learnt to identify armed individuals as they keep dodging bullets from estate to estate.

Shotgun and bullets - My first real shot at something in life

Standing still, immediately instils fear in the monkey rather than the opposite. This pause is taken as a fact that the person is taking aim to shoot and they never tolerate a person standing still. As a shooter, if you need to stand still, then the approach should be as silent. I made two basic mistakes that a hunter should not. I moved around quite a bit and went on and on about getting the right shot and whether I was holding the gun right as I took tips from dad.

Dad must have known, nothing would come off it, but as I raised my gun against my left shoulder and had the monkey in my sights, the adrenaline kicked in. The monkeys kept moving around, but I knew I had to squeeze in a shot. Impatience too got the better of me. I did wait for a good five minutes before I thought I had a clear shot. I pressed the trigger.

The kick from the gun was not as bad as I expected. The shot was loud and almost like a splattering of gun powder that comes out of a muzzle loader. The leaves in the branches quivered and I saw a monkey falling down.

No, I did not get the monkey. It was just a temporary loss of balance that the monkey had on hearing the shot. Dad saw my crestfallen face and said, don’t worry, it was a baptism by fire. He was being polite.

There is a thrill when the shot rings out and the butt kicks in and I now understand why the gun nuts in US from the NRA love shooting. I love it too and I wish there was something like the NRA promoting the same here. Dad told me to go to the civilian defence range and fire away once I am in Bangalore. Got to get my arse over there definitely, wonder if they still take in civilians despite the name.

As I type this post, I am getting ready for my next round of hunting. I need to get a dead monkey on my back.

(The photographs featured in this post are the sole property of the author of this blog)

The following were what we discovered as we rummaged through the cupboards:

• Grandpa’s and great-grandpa’s account books (dating back to the 1940s) meticulously maintained.
• An album with photographs dating back to the late 1930s – this included great-grandpa Bonaventure Martis’ family photo, following him receiving the ‘Benemerente’ from the Pope for services to the Mangalore diocese. The photo includes Dad and my aunt (both looking hilarious as ever) and the entire Martis-Pinto clan with the founder of the Bethany Order, Fr. Mascarenhas (who was recently beatified by Pope Benedict XVI). This is a classic if there is any.
• Further albums with Grandpa and family in Basra and Baghdad where Grandpa was posted with the Royal Air Force in the accounts department (now I know where the meticulousness in accounts came from).
• A photo of me that Grandpa used to keep on his table till the day he died. (He died when I was seven months old).
• Cameras from three different generations – ancient as hell
• A passport of Grandpa’s sister.
• Royal Air Force documentation of Grandpa’s.
• More photos of Dad and his sister when they were kids (even more giggles).
• Old Ceylon currency notes and coins.
• Naya paise coins from just after Independence.

British Iraq photo album

Three generations of cameras from a bygone era

A 1940-50 era camera - eBay worthy

Memories… they never cease to amaze…

(The photographs featured in this post are the sole property of the author of this blog)

Coffee in bloom

Our meagre workforce of 18 is not enough to hasten the picking, however a neighbour, who still remains grateful to my grandparents for helping them out in their time of need, calls up dad and assures that he would share some of the labour coming his way. Whew! That takes a load off us and I then realise the saying that the virtues or the sins of the parents will always be passed down. In this case it is the virtue of my grandparents, who’s goodwill in earlier times was looked upon as an act of weakness, but is now paying rich dividends in the respect they have left behind for the family.

Meeting the neighbour (an old Setty family) at his place to discuss about the labour issue, we came across a photo of Grandpa prominently placed in their living room. Grandpa’s help that was rendered to their father, and in turn their estate and family, is still remembered and hence the strong sense of goodwill has been carried forward. Thank you Abba and Mai (grandpa and Grandma in Konkani for the uninitiated).

Unfortunately, the Town Canteen, famous for its Dosas, is closed. We roam around the town as it slowly wakes up. Dad has some business around town and we want to finish that off rather than make the drive back later. As I mentioned, Chikmagalur is not a nice place to be in.

There are two main roads in Chikmagalur – The Indira Gandhi Road and the Mahatma Gandhi Road. MG Road is where the traders are located. IG Road is slightly ‘upmarket’. However the roads are being widened and along with it a lot of heritage buildings have had to cut off their existing façade. It’s a mess… construction materials scattered along the main road, mud thrown around as drains are being dug… the list goes on.

Chikmagalur Cathedral and the Altar - Stopped by for a prayer

The Christmas crib at Chikmagalur Cathedral

We complete our work along with breakfast at Soundarya Hotel (the safest bet in Chikmagalur as all other hotels have an affinity for bringing you down with some sort of chronic intestinal disorder). We manage to finish our work in time for lunch and buzz off.

Denora Estate here we come. What a day…. Oh and we need to make a stop at the Mallandur post office to collect our post. No door-to-door postmen here.

Reach the estate and immediately take a tour as Dad says we need to make our presence felt as much as possible around the estate. So, up from 4AM and I am trekking through dense shrubbery as the picking goes on. Following this stay around the yard as the coffee is brought in and then get into the pulping room where the coffee is being pumped, suctioned and pulped.

Bath, accounts with the writer (estate ‘manager of sorts’), rosary, dinner of the freshest vegetables and the best dressed chicken in Chikmagalur and I am off to sleep. 10 PM. I am pooped.

(The photographs featured in this post are the sole property of the author of this blog)

Leaving Bangalore on December 16, was an experience by itself. Haggled with the auto-driver, a fiftyish looking man who talked to me in chaste Urdu before switching to Kannada when he realised it was a local hog he was talking to. After settling for 160 bucks (starting from 180) to take me to Majestic, we began chatting on the way about old Bangalore and our pasts and where we came from. Mutual exchanges helped us settle down in our respective seats and before we knew it we were in Majestic, even as the poor old man’s wife kept calling him to find out when he would be back home.

The rickshaw-driver was a lorry driver in his younger days and had made quite a few trips to Mangalore. He now plied his trade on the roads of the city but business was hardly profitable and with the metro coming up in Bangalore things looked even more bleak.

I got down at Majestic intending to tip the guy 10 bucks extra despite haggling with him at the start of the journey, but boy oh boy, he turns the tables on me by refusing to take anything extra and returns the 10 rupees from the initially decided amount. “You are a person with a good heart son. The day’s end was bearable because of you”, was his response.

A lovely start to a vacation. I jump into it with a ‘good’ heart.

Majestic brings out the best and the worst in people. Best – when people look all happy and zippy cause they are all going home. Worst – cause I saw a couple (dunno if they were married) fighting it out in front of the entrance of the bus stand and the girl just throws the bag and ticket on the ground as the guy sheepishly tries to soothe her nerves. A father haggles with his wife and pinches the kids cause they are sticking on to their mom and blames the wife for spoiling them. The father seems like a lout and drunkard and the rest of the family appear to be mortally afraid of him. Ha… life goes on.

I get into the Mercedes Benz bus. Doesn’t look well kept from out, but the inside turns out to be quite comfortable with lots of leg space. Get a VIP to sit in front of me – CT Ravi, who is the MLA from Chikmagalur district. He keeps to himself. A boy comes along with him… looks like his son.

Bus surprisingly has its share of PYTs. Surprising… cause it’s Chikmagalur… an old, dusty hick town that we always avoid when we go to the estate by taking a bypass via Aldur. I would expect these to drive down… but what the hell this is a Merc bus and I am definitely not complaining.

Off we go…