Writings on the wall

Driving down to Dehradoon from Delhi, the best mid-way pee-break halt was always Cheetal, now apparently Cheetal Grand. (Or maybe always Cheetal Grand, noticed only now). As a kid, stopping at Cheetal, Grand or not, en route to my grandparents' place much further ahead into the Shivalik hills, used to be the height of excitement for me; crackling 'magic pops' on a tot's tongue.

The place had clean loos and a resort-like feel. Rows of flower pots, rabbits, birds -- caged, of course, but perhaps back then, as a child, I wasn't quite rabid about animal rights -- watered lawns, a general air of hygiene, a big open aquarium with monster goldfish, and evident effort gone into keeping the area trim and functional; lovely. And most unlike what certain coffee shops in Delhi have transmogrified into (anyone been to Barista recently?). Point is, pee stops at Cheetal made me happy.

I hadn't been on the Delhi-Doon road for some years, four at least. The last time I went to visit my grandparents' in Doon was, and I looked up blog archives, in October 2010, in the train. Long live the Shatabdi. Except now, train bookings are apparently open 4 months in advance, which makes it impossible to manage tickets last minute in tourist season. Drove there, but returned in the volvo bus, hence stopped last week on our way back to Delhi, for a half hour, my mother and I.

When we get disembark at Cheetal and she starts raving about the lovely little tomatoes and oh look-- :

She: Take a shot of the ornamental chilies! Nanu used to always pluck some...
Me: Nothing doing.

For one, I have way too many shots of silly ornamentals consuming my phone memory. For another, I'm always more amused with signs. I saw some cute ones on my walk one morning in Doon.

See hills in the background? The other side of the board says Don't Be Harsh on Curves.

But Cheetal. Walking about to stretch my legs after 4-5 hours in the bus, and after drinking cold coffee from the self service counter (40 bucks for one and SO much better than the overpriced frappé crap, again, at Barista; also the man behind the counter was immediately smiley and said, of course he could make me cold coffee, strong, without sugar, and thankfully didn't call me ma'am) and, pre clambering back on board, I felt my tickles at inadvertent comic signs turn a shade darker and into alarm. The +40 degree heat didn't help. But all these self-instructions, ( you'll see as you scroll down), like a new boss boss on a power trip, could have hardly been a mirage.

Okay, not this. This is sweet, even if a tad discriminatory. Poor regular flies!

 But this...

Great example, I thought, of  'knowing your audience'.
One measly plastic spoon kinda DOTH a klepto make.

 And this...

I don't know, you know... if people bent on decamping with pigeons are the obedient sort...

 And...

Like a truck jammed into a no parking space. Same principle. Only nicer.
Them generous bird thieves!

 And...

How else to take in these signs erected all over your disciplined property?

Rusty sign, y u no fun?

Winner of the ornamental chillies vs purple lotus round.
Pity you can't see tadpoles.

Poor guys, out in the bloody heat, watering the entrance of Cheetal to bring down the tempertature of cement

Glorious 2-ambi laden mango tree. ie room freshner for the entire compound

Good thing Cheetal still has enough 'visual relief' going to make up for its don't-do-this-don't-do-that paranoid Hitler attitude.

And clean loos.