TRAVEL TALES of ranaruby

Home is where you grow up. Home is where you settle. Home is where one sighs in relief after a tiring day out. But home is not as simple as that. My son Arjun, when he was in class XII at St. Thomas’ Boys’ School, Calcutta wrote a single-page article on what home means to him. He sent this in to a writing competition held by Sheffield University, UK. He was awarded the second prize. For some reason, I lost that single typed sheet. I have been looking for it ever since I started this blog—and finally, a few days back, my wife found the page, torn and tattered. Here’s Arjun’s essay—I hope you enjoy reading it as much as we did. And please leave your views and comments!                             WHAT HOME MEANS TO ME Home is where you are. On the streets . People stare because you got yourself tonsured. You stare back because you find them interesting. You move your body. You spend money. You use your brain. You catch a bus. You see them spit on the road and kick stre

ISTANBUL  -  the city of tulips and rhododendrons                     (Part I) PRELUDE In my school days, circumstances compelled a deep interest in history for me. I attended La Martiniere College, Lucknow, and my surroundings were so rich in historical significance that I could not help but fall in love with the past old imposing buildings, the intriguing but magnificent architecture of the main building ‘Constantia’ – an unusual mix of Gothic, Georgian, Palladian, and Nawabi styles, the three majestic cannons on the terrace overlooking the ‘Lat’ ( a 40m long solid fluted column) standing like a silent spectator right at the centre of an artificial lake, the wooden ballroom dance floor in Spence Hall —–a summer palace for Maj Gen Claude Martin. a French soldier who acquired a large fortune while serving Asaf-ud- Daula, the Nawab of Oudh, before founding the La Martiniere schools in Lyons, Lucknow and Kolkata. The ‘Constantia’ was designed and built by Martin himself in the