Munich Vijayam

Well, how selfish are we?

2011-07-22T23:01:00.004+05:30

Well, how selfish are we? Do we really live for ourselves or do we succumb to the pressures of our society, or our family. Irony is that it is still selfish when we giving to the pressures of our family/ society, the act is not selfless but rather a show of weakness to withstand the kind of pressure.

In India, especially, lifestyle of most of us is society bound, we let the society decide set all most all the standards of our lives. From basic things like the kind of dress one should be wearing to bigger things like the kind of education one should have, the kind of free time activities permissible, the right age for marriage, even the right groom or bride, the right age for a having a child.....the list is perhaps never ending.

A German Boss of mine once emphatically proclaimed, I quote “having children has its advantages and disadvantages”. This is how the west logics, but the east on the contrary is heavily bound by the norms of the society and culture, there is nothing right or wrong about the status of the two culture but I mean only to state here the way the things are; even a pauper here, in india, thinks about the continuation of his lineage. At times I wonder what lineage, is the continuation of our blood line that important, and if yes why???? Few questions for which the answer clearly is a ‘no’, the world will not be bothered if our blood line would stop, not that we are Jesus Christ or something. I read from the book ‘The City of Djinns’ by William Dalrymple, that the great Moghul blood line (the legal heirs) is coming to a stop with this generation and does it matter to any of us except for the members outside that family, the answer is again a ‘no’. But ‘the no’ for an answer isn’t quiet convincing for my oriental brain.

In India we let the society dictate our lives, the acceptable education is always ‘an engineering degree’, or ‘a medical degree’ or ‘the latest addition being the MBA’. The acceptable profession is always ‘a software engineer working in an MNC’, ‘a medical doctor’, ‘or an NRI working from the US’, well how about an army officer, there is a dead no. My mom was hell-bent against me getting married to Navneeth, one of her main reason for her dislike was the fact that he was an army officer, which was un acceptable to her.

If you are somewhere around your mid twenties, the one most frequented question in India, would be ‘when are you getting married’, like it’s any of their business and like they know what is the best age for us to get married. This question will swarm around you like where ever you go and whatever you do. If you are say 28 and not married the immediate and the not so immediate society would remind you with a sigh that you are getting older every day. It is even worse if you are a woman.

And when you do get married, willingly or unwillingly, it is not the end of it. The next set of rules await, the right time for having a child. And when you are a woman and nearing your 30, the society automatically sets the biological clock for you in the fast forward mode. But I had seen many people around, who have withstood the pressure, and have lived their lives in their own terms. May be not at all stages but at least at certain important decisions of their lives, they have bravely put their foot down for what they wanted out of life, than what others wanted them to do.

Well life is actually very simple. The best justice any one could do to their own life is do is to be true to be one self and keep themselves happy. Society is an external factor, which might acknowledge the kind of wealth or fame or knowledge you accumulate, and it might give you materialistic happiness, but that happiness is short lived. Real happiness is perhaps that feeling of content which is wholesome and long lasting, when you are happy the people around you are ultimately happy too, they will be if they are your well wishers. I am definitely not encouraging one to be a rebel, but only saying that: the best things in life like career, marriage etc should never be based on a compromise, never.

Nostalgia

2011-03-21T12:10:00.005+05:30

This is an email, I wrote to a friend, a stranger whom I met in an even stranger city, and we ended up having one memorable, hell of a day! This mail is actually a quintessence of everything we did the day we met. When I wrote to Girish (thats right, thats his name, 'the stranger') last week, he said he liked it and posted it as a note in FB, well after a thought even I started liking it, and thought It would be nice to share it with the rest of you. The mail is mine, and was titled 'Nostalgia is indeed a bitch' as posted on FB as note. I suggest that every one should try doing something like this; say, go out with a stranger, it might be a day you will cherish for the rest of your lives. I should say this: thanks Girish, for making me realise that the letter was well written, for the apt title and for the lovely day some 5 years ago.

'Actually looking back....I had never done anything like that before and nothing after either... But you can try, you are still single, go out with some one else totally strange like for almost an entire day, walk around the city like that's your last chance to use your legs, climb up a dome through a million stairs, peek a view at the city listning to wrong history (hahaha), share opinion, sit by the river side take a pic, walk by the malls pick up a jacket, visit a chocolate museum and buy some of them, spend the evening at a bar having a drink talking about being in a platonic relationship, the night at the railway station, get checked by the German cops....and waking up to a doener, if I am not wrong at the railway station, and saying about a zillion things in a day.... that's pretty much every ting we did...did I miss out on any thing? '

P.S. Happy Anniversary Girish!

The Circular, Recess Part-Three

2011-02-12T13:43:00.006+05:30

Class 10 B was notorious for mischief. My school had a tradition of circulating information; the now late Mr. Anthony was the circular man who comes in with a bunch of circulars to be distributed in all the classes. He first reads them and a copy of the same note is then distributed to all the students in the class. And we, the students had our own traditions; it was customary of us to make the best use of our origami skills to make that piece of paper into a paper-rocket and then launch them almost immediately as soon we were left alone to be on our own. Treating an important piece of paper like waste gave us a lot of happiness, I think somewhere in our high school brains sat those subtle egos (besides the gross ego) and thus made us feel good for subtly mocking the powerful, like some kind of civil disobedience of not giving it importance, in some psychological level.

We always launched our rockets into the Nursery school next to ours, the Oakley Nursery School; like it was our favourite exploration grounds. We use to send our unmanned space-crafts into the Oakley in search of no mineral deposits or some extra-terrestrials, but I guess there are better things on earth to explore and spy on. Like...there were two good looking brothers living within the premises of Oakley they happened to be the sons of the Headmistress. One was Philip and the other, well, I don’t remember too well. Our math teach Mrs. Shanti had this hobby of calling out their names in the middle of the classes while we were busy working out problems. She gives us problems to solve in the class, and while we logic our brains to find a solution Mrs. Shanti bends over the window sill and calls for either, in a typical feminine posture, one arm almost akimbo but just hanging around the hip witouth touching it and the other on the window sill. And every time Poornima used to do Mrs. Shanti we had a rolling laughter. Doing some one and guessing who it was used to be one of our favourite games.

One fine day one such circular came and following the norms of our regular drill religiously shot our paper planes into Oakley, except Poornima. Well what Poornima did with it is now the history. Our very smart Poori (as all of us called her) followed the drill until making the plane and kept it safely inside her History record. And here is a lesson to learn, that certain drills have a purpose in its way it is and one shouldn’t doubt or question its ways, one should just do it; and if you don’t do it till the end to perfection the consequences may not be that pretty.

So the paper rocket kept in the record literally book marked the page in which she kept it in, opening the same page every time she opened the record note. As fate might have it the following period was a free period and we were expected to sit outside in the corridors and read. These corridors were grilled (like a balcony)and over looked the ground. During such free time we normally sit in a circle, choose one of our fattest books and keep it open in our laps and pretend to read but in reality play or gossip or giggle. And so we were doing the same that day too, but when the cosmos is conspiring against you it would take just a small thing or even things which you would enjoy on normal basis (like a gentle breeze) to spell catastrophe.

So we sat in circle and Poori opended her record, and hush came a gust of wind and blew the paper rocket away through the grills to the ground. Until this all was actually well for Poornima, only if she had not done the next thing she did. In excitement Poornima stood up to see the rocket landing in Sister Rosalie’s foot. And Sister Rosalie saw Poornima’s head peeping out of the balcony from the corridor. Sister Rosalie, as coincidence would have it (well, if you believe in coincidences), was our history teacher. From a history record, to the history teacher, to history; just too much history happening, I see. And that was the end of Poornima for that day! Poornima doesn’t buy trouble she earns it hahaha.

Sister Rosalie, confounded Poornima with best word the English language can offer. It was a long session between her and the teacher. We were eager for Poori’s victorious return, she came back looking blown off by a mighty cyclone, and all of us raged out laughing. The laughter of a life time: ladies and gentlemen, that was Poornima for you, one fun loving girl she was, the one and only.

The Recess Part-Two (Shhhhhh.....)

2010-09-25T03:05:00.004+05:30

We were in eleventh standard and my physics teacher Mrs. Guna had asked us to submit our physics lab record notes. We, as in my group of friends, (well let me make use of this moment to name all those lovely souls with whom growing up was extreme fun: Annie, Sharmila, Jayasri, Poornima, Uma, Neelu, Mayura, Jayapradha) were never the careful lot we always enjoyed doing things at the last moment, not that we did it out of choice, but out of sheer laxity or indifference ( the desi attitude). On the day of submission, none of the above mentioned had a proper cover to their record books, either the records were bare naked or shabbily clad. Not knowing what to do one of us spoke with our gate watchman “Teel Bahadur” and requested him to permit us to let us go out to the stationary shop around the corner which was aptly called “Sheena fancy corner”. He suggested us to bring a permission letter from the headmistress (to the Headmistress no ways, he should be kidding), this definitely was not an option for us, we "begged" but he shoo us away with his “lathi” like he was chasing a group of tumbling monkeys tumbling down the gates; it was his responsibility not to let any students out during the school time without permission duly signed by the headmistress and he was just doing his job.

Then we sat together to discuss our various other options to get hold of some brown sheets before the lab period in the afternoon. One, we could ask our stationary in who was Mrs. Shanthi but she, to our bad luck, was absent that day; now we didn’t expect this disaster to fall on the same day of our requirement. Next option was that we had was that we could "borrow" them from our chemistry teacher “Mrs. Mary Manjula”, because we had seen loads of brown sheets stored away in the chemistry lab’s store room during our lab sessions, which but she too denied saying “beg, borrow, steal but I am not going to give you the sheetss” and “it is your fault that you were irresponsible enough to not have covered our records on time”. We were disappointed, but the teacher was indeed right, she had a point, it was our fault. Thus we had run out of all fair choices, and had no other easy way but to use our higher secondary brains and together we evolved a plan.

Since the record submission was only after the lunch and we had planned to make use of the lunch period to execute our master plan. In our school we were forbidden to eat food inside our classes we had to go down to the tiffin-sheds or to the tree shades in the ground to have our food, this was followed to save the class rooms from getting too dirty. So this left the class rooms deserted during the lunch hours and we decided to make use of this time to slip into the locked chemistry library and get our hands on the brown covers (now this is called obiedience as our chemie teacher had it, we begged, we tried to borrow and now we were “stealing”).

Our school is about to become 125 years old, an antique building built during the Raj, with long doors, lovely arched French windows and high ceilings with those long stemmed fans hanging like chandeliers from the roofs of the classes. The lab door was locked normally (and today too it was) but the French window that it had, which happened to open into the corridor which we walked, was not locked. It could only be latched from inside and these old window latches would easily give away upon rocking them gently,through the years most latches had become loose.

And we did just that, the lab was the second room from where flights of steps starts; there are actually two of them, one which took us to the third floor and another which led us down to the first floor, the lab was in the second floor of the building. So we rocked those giant windows open and jumped in and in the meanwhile we had arranged for someone to man the stairs so that in case of anyone coming up we could be signalled on time to get out of the lab.

The window was shaken open, and the action had begun. We quickly jumped inside through the windows and ran to the store room and grabbed as many as brown sheets as possible and jumped out as soon as possible too. It was indeed a clean sweep, like nothing happened at all. We even successfully wore the same nothing-had-happened-at-all-look upon our faces, beneath the giggle and the mischief.

The mission cover-your-records was thus successfully completed. We even generously lent the remaining sheets to those who needed them. Beg, borrow, steal, help yourself and then charity ofcourse, now this is the Robin Hood attitude, steal from those who have it in surplus and give to the needy. And almost a couple of weeks later one of our teacher was making a lot of noise about some missing brown sheets from her lab, now you know which teacher it could be. And we like good citizens (or like good politicians) claimed that we were deeply shocked, expressed sympathy, condemned the act and called it cowardly (hahahahah). Folks, it was time to wear the who-could-it-be-look-?.

The Recess Part-One (The Bona fide Certificate)

2010-09-24T00:40:00.001+05:30

I was thinking about one of the best times of my life, school days; and I have realised that there a million memories from those days, when life used to be joy-infinite. No work and all fun period of all our lives, I guess; and I decided that I should share every moment of joy and learning that we had in school. My school taught me everything, how to do it right, wear it out, talk it up etc to an extent that I can say a good part of me is a product of my school and the days that I have relived in these pages will remain forever. Since I have just too much to say, like always, I have explained each memory under the same title as a sequel, I hope I will be able to trigger the same excitement and joy and nostalgia which all of us hold for our respective alma maters. Here you go...

The Bona fide Certificate

It was during my higher secondary days in school. I needed a bona fide certificate from my school for a certain application process. And I was waiting outside the head mistress’s office, dressed in smart blue and white that was my schools uniform, to make a request for the certificate.

During my school days I always used to construct the conversation in my head before I spoke to any teachers or other staffs, to avoid the embarrassments of egregious grammar errors. To my luck the head mistress was too busy passing orders and she had barely taken notice of me; and I was hesitant to disturb her for the fear of it ending up in a disaster, so I decided to wait until she got a little relieved.

In the meanwhile I got lost in my own world, confused in constructing grammar-perfect sentences and rehearsing them within the space of my mind, making sure not to make any mistakes in front of my headmistress. Well, I went to a convent school which doesn’t take grammar mistakes that easily and the seniors that we were there was no reasons according to the school authorities why bad language should be forgiven within the premises of the school, at least.

Mrs. Shanti, my immensely popular Math teacher who passed by took notice of the perplexed me, asked :

Mrs. Shanti: “Vani, what are you doing and why are you standing here”.

Me: “I am waiting here to see the headmistress”.

Mrs. Shanti with a doubtful look on her face: “What for?”. “Were you punished?”

Me: “No, no, I need a Bona fide certificate”.

Mrs. Shanti (still doubtful): “Are you sure you are not punished”?

Well such was my reputation in school.

Me with a sheepish smile : “Yes, Miss Shanti I am sure I am here for a Bona fide certificate.”

Mrs. Shanti (now convinced): “Then why are you waiting here, come”.

She took me by my hand and took me into the office and summoned the office staff to issue me a bona fide certificate. And Bhamm, I had the most revered Bona fide certificate in hand.

Many more of such warm memories to be fondly expressed...

Just talk to them!

2010-09-23T22:21:00.003+05:30

There is a big gecko which lives behind the bookshelf in my drawing room which keeps running hither thither according to its will. What will could a gecko have? Not that its running out from its hide out, risking its life to go to the bathroom or something, it is plain hunger, the lizard runs behind small bugs which fly around. However I think this lizard is fond of spiders, he (or she...who knows??) is always running behind them which hang like tiny acrobats above his head. To me these spiders look like eight legged gymnast doing their tricks hanging down from the cieling, however for the lizard it would be like a fruit waiting to be eaten hanging down from the tree. (Lizards eye view. I know, you are thinking: "Some people have way too much time". Right now it is true indeed!).

Navneeth noticed a running gecko and suggested that it should be killed. Violence ey! Poor lizard, I thought, harmless though rubbery and yucky. I told Navneeth that to get rid of a lizard one just has to tell it to get up leave, he gave me a you-think-I-am-an-idiot look. I explained that from childhood I have always talked a lizard out of home. I said “you just have to threaten the lizard to leave or otherwise be killed”, well yes it might sound like that I am trying to make a fool of all of you but the success rate of this technique is quiet high. So to all those who are looking for a pest control method to drive those lizards away just use your tongue to either sweet talk or threaten them out. This technique has almost always worked for me and it might for you too. The only drawback being that after a few days you might see the same lizard (or it might be some other lizard too, well I cannot tell one lizard from the other, they all look the same to me) back in the house, but you can just reapply the technique and ask it to get out, simple.

P.S: Please do try and tell me if it worked for you or if it is just my own childhood-fancy which I am still practicing.

Janmashtami

2010-09-23T01:05:00.001+05:30

The “Maruthi-Gypsy” came strolling when the clock struck ten pm in the night to pick us up from our homes. Well oen might wonder what it could be that would start as late as ten in the night. Well it was the eve of Krishna Janmashtami. Janmashtami is the day of the birth of lord Krishna and is an occasion of vibrant celebrations across the Indian subcontinent and beyond, it falls on the eighth day of the second fortnight, in the month of Sravana when, the moon entered the house of Vrishabha in Rohini Nakshatra (star); and is a national holiday. Krishna Janmashtami is celebrated with more vigour in the north than in the south of India. The celebrations start on the eve of Janmashtami , it is also believed that the lord was born when the clock struck twelve in the night.

In our unit the bhajans had started well ahead of the pooja which was scheduled at twelve. All the folks of the unit were singing in ecstasy and merriment as the chanted “Radhe Krishna” “Radhe Krishna” throughout the night. It was as dark as coal when we had arrived thanks to the generator which also gave away but soon the power came and there was light. The men at the bhajan sat out and the women were seated in the mandir; the officers and their ladies also took their places there.

Inside the mandir were fully bedecked idols of Radha and Krishna and also another baby Krishna in the cradle. Just some thirty minutes before the midnight all the frantic singing came to cease giving way to the prayer service. I thought the prayer service was most beautifully begun with the opening address from the Maulwee sahib, and he opened with quotes from the holy Quoran and stated that Allah sends messengers like Mohammed, Jesu, Krishna to bring people to the path of righteousness and to establish the same in the society.

The Punditji then took over from the Maulwee sahib, he read parables from the Gita and quoted from the conversations between the almighty driver Lord Krishna and the driven Arjuna. Where the mportance of doing ones own duty is emphasized, that duty should be done even if their own kith and kin stand in its way.

As the message from Gita was extensively explained the clock struck twelve, and as it did the conch was blown proclaiming the Lords birth and then followed by an arthi and rocking the infant Lord’s cradle. We all received our prasadas after the pooja and it was the time for the bhajans to start off again with full energy, fuller zest and the fullest joy.

It was definitely a special moment in my life, the south Indian that I am, I had never witnessed Krishnashtami celebrated with such pomp. The singing continued the rest of the night into the whole of the following day, while we left to homes to our beds. I could still hear loud bhajans from the adjoining ISKON temple after I reached my home. The celebrations lasted for two days with never ceasing bajhans of un-diminishing passion, with the chants of “Hari Bol”. You could feel the Lord in the air everywhere you look around as “Radhe Krishna” reverberated all over.

The following day all of us had our respective poojas at home. And Navneeth join me from Makhwal, he had his day off for Janmashtami (Thank god!). The Celebrations reminded me of my Christmas in Emden with the Vogeses, Paul, Robert. I had attended the Christmas eve mass and the celebrations followed till the next day, these memories came over to my mind so naturally. Great celebration it was and now yet again. Just fell more in love with the God of love. Hari Bol!

It is a Goal!

2010-08-26T23:27:00.003+05:30

Would you believe if I told you that once upon a time I played hockey at sub-junior level. I would not believe it myself. It was summer and I was nine years old, used to rush our way to the then Mayor Radha Krishnan Hockey Stadium in Egmore at early hours of the day. We practiced along the seniors with the sub-junior group, there was also a woman team practicing away from us, alongside. And there would different men to coach each team, and sad than I don’t even remember the name of my trainer, but I remember that he was a very old man, a veteran at the game.

We begun at around 5.30 in the morning and continued for roughly two hours every day. We always started our day with a prayer in Tamil, thanking and asking god to give us the strength to play well and wise and we finished our day in prayer too. Every day any one from the group could lead in prayer and the rest of the group would just follow.

It was a great way to start the practice, I thought, somehow used to enjoy them despite the fact that it was the same words that we repeated every day in prayer. As the group would huddle to form a circle and the one leading the prayer would stand at the centre. With the face of the stick on the ground we bend over as if getting ready to scoop a hockey ball we begin to pray. This is followed by the warming exercises like running around the ground. Stretching, push ups etc. Imagine two feeble hands of nine some fifty to hundred push-ups. Normally push-ups were used as punishments for drinking water during the training hours; they would grant us breaks during which water drinking was not a punishable activity. Imagine hundred push-ups, phew, well I could die of thirst!

After warming up were the rigorous practising session and by this time the mild morning sun is growing steadily in vigour as we dribbled, tribbled, scooped and hit the ball with our sticks. Well I was a sub-junior and had a junior Punjab tiger stick, was not one of the best sticks but was good enough for the summer camp and was even better enough for me. However the most admired and coveted were a “Vampire” or a “Vaijayanthi” those times, like you can show them off when you carry one of those shining and curvy piece of beauty. One kid even had an exotic “Karachi King”.

Well I dreamt of owning a Vampire some day, well I could buy one myself now but if I will be able to play with it is a different question for discussion altogether. After all the years of being inert to hockey, I can barely hold the stick in position properly, hockey is yet another trade which I seemed to have learnt and forgotten blissfully over time. Time makes me forget hehe.

Well back to the chak de vani story: after the practice we broke around seven thirty for a cup of hot milk and raw egg and of course not without a piece of the trainer’s brain. Well I vividly and only remember the leading trainer, was a well built, dark gentlemen. I even remember his name. His name was Sampath and we called him “Sampath Sir”. Raw eggs was not one of the best tasting snack with milk but was for all the protein an egg could offer. When the day was called off we normally don’t go home immediately as other normal children would. Well we had our own extended routine. As I practiced hockey my brother used to come to watch over the practice, and after the session I normally take my brothers cycle and ride around the stadium where tennis was practiced (Mayor Radhakrishnan Stadium then was not as sophisticated as it now is, now it has a international turf and a well built stadium to cater for international games but earlier is was an uneven-mud turf surrounded by a small amphitheatre like structure to hold the audience fit for local matches only. The Stadium also housed a basketball court and a tennis court, I am not aware if they are still a part of the stadium today) and as a beginner I had starting trouble with an adult cycle. (I know you are wondering if a bicycle could have starting trouble well it could if I were the one riding it.)

The cycling affair of mine gave my brother just enough time to catch up with Deepa. Now don’t ask me who is Deepa, all that I could remember of Deepa is that she was a smart and a good looking girl and a daughter of a veterinary doctor and that is it. She used to practice tennis the same time I practiced hockey in the adjoining tennis court. Well that explains why my brother religiously used to come to watch me practising hockey every day, well, well, different people had different reasons to be at the Radhakrishnan Stadium, so maybe we should add bird watching too in the activity list of the then Radhakrishnan Stadium, ahem, ahem, whatever.....

And after “everything” was done, my brother, my cousins and me carelessly stroll back home and on the way we never fail to stop at kiosk which sells delicious lassi besides various other things. This actually is one of my most favourite part of the routine as I looked forward to it every day on our way back.

Why this narrative of a bygone childhood moment is being done now and what brought the delightful retrospection on to the paper? It was a match in Navneeth’s unit, a inter unit match between 17 Bihar and a 14 Sikh Lights. The game had a flamboyant army start; loud cries of adoration and cheering filled the arena. The Sikh unit went off with their traditional war cry “Jo Bhole So Nihal, Sat Sri Akal” and the Bihar unit did well with their “Jai Bajrang Bali”!

The Sikh team started off well and were looking aggressive the first fifteen minutes while the Bihar team played defensive and around the 20th minute there was a goal from the Bihar team. And then there was a quick second goal from the Bihar team, I felt that that moment of climax which kind of paved way to Bihar’s success because it kind of “diminished” the hope of the opponent and “added” pressure on them (it is all Math you see!).

And then forward there was not a moment of hitch from the men of Bihar, not to forget their neat passes and a fine co-ordination and their ability to snitch the ball from the opponent and subsequently to convert them into a goal. Unfortunately the Sikh team couldn’t capitalise on the few penalty shots that they had. Well played, as the Bihar team closed it off with an assertive 7,0 ; it was Bihar all the way!

A great episode of a brilliant match and lovesome memories a perfect mixture for a blog, I guess. And please allow me to finish with the same spirit the match was closed with: “Bharat Mata Ki, Jai !”.

Mango Showers!

2010-08-03T10:14:00.003+05:30

It's raining mangoes,ya it is July and the Mango season is in full wave. This is a different variety that you get in the north of India, is called “Choosa” (the name hints you how they should be eaten), they are medium or small in size with a tinge of green here and there. Gives an impression that they might still be a little raw, however, SURPRISE!!!! When you cut through them you actually discover they are succulent little pockets of honey, and spells H-E-A-V-E -N, or rather spills heaven, or both.

Gawd!!! Am I a foodie or what? Relishing the pulp is one divinity and the bony seed or stone inside is another; pleasure from a parallel universe. Eating the bits of flesh around the seed is an indulgent art; all the mango-seed lovers would agree with me.

However, once the divine tryst is over you are stuck with the messy mango fibres between your teeth. And at times it is quiet annoying to pull them out too, how does one deal with this. But most definitely, the experience is worth the effort.

P.S: The Bonus is that you are left with sweet mango flavoured hands after the enriching indulgence (If you like it!).

Crawl into my parlour!

2010-06-29T11:28:00.001+05:30

I guess light remains a fascination to the human eyes, it definitely does unto mine : a star, a lightning, the sun, the moon, the fire crackers of the night, the lamp and all the other forms of luminous decorations and tell me about the number of us who enjoy gazing at the night sky. A gush of joy surged into me as I saw a firefly twinkling about me.

I am now living in a habitat infested with insects of all kinds. They royally crawl into your parlour even without an invitation, as we struggle to co-exists, without bothering each other much, to live in harmony. Thanks to the number of trees around, there is a sprawling insect world teaming with life out there. As the evening falls one cannot ignore the air resonating with the sound of millions of crickets and god knows what else. There are too many different species of them living there, I can barely name a couple of them and the others are grossly either mites, or beetles, or bugs, or insects according to me.

We have the biting types, the stinging types, the sucking type, the harmless crawling types, the winged, the un-winged, the long jumpers, and of course also the seasonal types. Most of them make me irk and quiver and yes they are quiet annoying too.

There are also the exotic ones which puts a smile on your face. Let us try to identify a few of them, the top on any ones list possibly be a butterfly and definitely also a fire fly. Yes these occasionally -blinking-bulbous- airborne-creatures amaze me. I just figured out that I don’t know anything about the fire flies except for its common name. It is time to do the google people. AG (After Googling) Vani will be a little more bug-conscious person. Google bye till then.

Thanks to my immobility!

2010-06-29T10:37:00.004+05:30

It has been nearly ten days now, since I have been in Jammu. And life is quiet opposite to what it was in Chennai, way too much of TIME I have. How the hell should I introduce myself to any one in Jammu; well let us try: “Hey I am Vani, a writer and a contented reader”; it is one of the most pretentious ways of telling someone that I am unemployed.

“Nichts machen ist manchmal auch gut” said a German scholar. But how much of nichts machen can one handle anyways. On the contrary Navneeth is keeping quiet busy. I barely get time with Navneeth, he is too busy being Captain Navneeth almost 25X7, well I am not even close to exaggeration, trust me I am being dead honest.

Navneeth has been working like he is never going to work for all his lives to come (I am a practicing Hindu, well almost, and I believe in reincarnation) and I have been resting like I am never going to rest for all my lives to come. It is a lives-time rest!!!

Not to blame Navneeth, it is doing exactly the same thing I did when he came on leave in Chennai. I leave home at 15 past eight at day and am back home by 30 to eight in the evening. What goes around comes around, doesn’t it? Not very long ago was I craving for some time for my own-self and now I just having way too much of time minus Navneeth, which is not very exciting as well. To make matters worse I met with an accident on the weekend, it was an auto-rickshaw walla this time who did the honour. They are of the same blood all over the country with respect to poor traffic sense. As a matter of us India as a nation is bad in following traffic rules but only our brethren on the rickshaw go that extra-mile in being insensitive to traffic rules.

Thanks to my immobility (I am now a proud owner of a swollen right leg and a deep cut right hand), I am left with little option to kill time. Lessons reinforced during this experience were that driving in Jammu is awfully dangerous. If you are around Jammu you would notice that there just too many of young men sporting there three wheelers with three men on them and to add to the spectacle are all the three sans helmet. And a ride down the city it you would notice that the people of Jammu have absolutely no hand signals in place, they drive as if hand signals don’t exist at all. One request to my brothers and sisters of Jammu: “Please wake up to traffic signals and hand signals”, it ain’t rocket science and it could make life easier, literally or otherwise.

Actually driving anywhere in India seems dangerous these days, prevention being better than cure I think it is time that all of us do the little things that we can do to protect ourselves. Like wearing a helmet on bike and wearing up your seatbelt while driving, it is more our attitude towards driving which is negligence without which most accidents could be avoided. It makes a difference between heaven and earth right!

I am reading, catching up with old friends, writing to them planning my home, watching a movie and doing all the other activities a crippled can do. I am hoping to recover soon, the discomfort is annoying. Just hoping that a new change will put an end to this phase as well.

Two Rupee-Innocence

2010-05-24T22:52:00.004+05:30

It was Monday morning and I was juggling my way to work. I take the MRTS commuter from Chennai Fort to Taramani on every week-day for work. It saves me a lot of time, pretty fast service that it is. And one of the best way to beat the morning traffic.

I had missed my 8.20 train by a few seconds, like as many a time in the past, thus forced to spend ten precious morning-minutes on the concrete-table of the station. As I waited, there is this child whom I see quiet regularly in the morning. He should be around three years old, malnourished, pot-bellied, clad in dirt and to make his already-little-miserable-world more miserable his legs where paralyzed with polio.

Very active and sprightly beyond his hardship, he makes an effort quiet often to rise on his weakened-waned legs to make a step or two only to fall on the ground as his own legs forsakes him.

The child looks neglected, should be some one’s child, I thought; and should have a name too but no body seemed to know. Well no body was bothered too, not even me as I am writing about him, the neglected little hero of this write-up.

He was quiet a gabby character, he goes out for a small talk now and then with all the passers-by in the station. Like today he remarked that there was something on his face to a man and this tiny tot got a mature reply from that man too.

Today he was carrying a lot of coins stacked in his hands. I wonder of he even knows what those stacks of coins could buy him. For that matter what money will mean at all for those feeble soiled hands. He had more money in his hands than any body of us would have when we were about his age, ironical indeed. He was merrily playing and tossing those coins like the chef of a pizza place. He was dropping and picking up the coins through the gaps of the grilled iron chairs upon which he was resting.

Besides he was asking money to all the commuters, he should have either picked up the habit or may be he was forced to do so or may be his handicap was also forced on him, who knows? Because I almost always see him in the morning and in the evening he is gone, may be he has a home to rest!!! I think all he knew was that he should ask for money to whomever he could possibly see in the station, and this he would do with a lot of command, don’t know if I should laugh at it, some realities thought laughter evoking are sad. For I could see a lot many laughing (at his innocence), for the way he was asking for money. To a couple of young ladies he said “Rendu rooba kodu” “Illena kaalai odachiruvEn” in his nascent Tamil, meaning “Give me two Rupees, otherwise I will break your legs”; heights of innocence.

May be the poor little thing doesn’t know what he is doing, and also why he should be doing this; and definitely doesn’t know how it should be done too. But he seemed not very disappointed even when nobody gave him money. May be ignorance is bliss, but definitely poverty and polio aren’t!!!!

0.3 Coffee....

2010-03-11T20:03:00.006+05:30

The colleagues of Project Management were grappling their miseries away. And these are bits and pieces of unintended overhearing, well, pretty interesting.....how evesdropping could get sooo interesting.

"Work", characterizes the mood of the floor and time is the only thing every one craves for. The boss of the Project Management team wanted to improve the efficiency of their team. He proposed that he cut down on their coffee and lunch breaks they observe. Therefore he was enquiring how many coffee each of them had per day.All of them gave their figures in whole number except one. One of them claimed that he drinks 0.3 coffee per day.

"0.3 Cofee", well what is that suppose to mean?, asked the Boss. Pat came the reply: "Sir I drink coffee only once in three days". At this all of us broke into laughter "well, apparently there were many more other than only me". And I dint care to find out what was the out come of that meeting, well the entertainement was already had, and that I guess was enough. So that is the storyy of 0.3 coffee. So enjoy your coffee which ever the number, enjoy your work!!!

Biography of the Gods!

2009-09-23T16:22:00.004+05:30

It was week-end again; the two days cease fire after a tiresome five days of toil at work. After a well deserved slumber, one tends to just wake up to a lazy day. I turned on the TV on a Saturday after noon to POGO channel. (There was nothing worthy to view in any other channel). They were featuring Ramayan- the Legend of Prince Ram: an animated film. It was a Japanese animation so beautifully done, such exquisite work on the greatest story and even more great characters that this world has seen, coming alive in front of you.

Actually, the same animated movie is played almost (religiously) every week-end. And I watch it almost every time it is featured. Ramyana and Mahabharat, the two best of the ever written and even ever told stories of the world. Almost every child in India grows up with these stories, rich in morals.

You would notice that there is something compelling about these stories. One could have seen it , heard it, be touched, by these stories one million times in his life time. Nevertheless every time you see it, you see it with the same intensity of interest and passion, equally thrilled. Every time is a firs time experience, though one knows explicitly what exactly follows and how it would end. Such is the magic binding the two epic tales.

Turn the TV on a Sunday, a channel like POGO meant for children features Ramayana and Mahabharata. There is a good half a dozen animated stories only based on these two stories over the week end. The Ramayan, the Mahabharat, Vayuputra Hanuman, Shri Krishna, Mahayodhya Ravan, The demon king Ravan etc etc. Besides there are many more soaps in more than a dozen channels, like Ramayan: the old version & the new version, Mahabarat: the old and the new version, Krishna Leela and many many more names. And so much more, remember what doesn’t sell isn’t sold.

Couple of months ago I was invited to a Ramayan Paat at my friends place, nothing but the reading of the Ramayan. In Ramayan Paat: any family playing the host invites there near and dear ones, all of them read Ramayan together as a song, a prayer meeting. And here I was standing in front of a huge banner at the Spence’s Plaza of Shobana “the famous dancer” performing “The essence of the Ramayan”.

Most celebrations in India also quote back to the epics, any auspicious or mundane day or an event calls for a recital. To an extent that in certain Vaishavite marriages the groom is given a copy of the Ramayan as a prop for his Kaasi Yaatra. Well Kaasi yaatra literally translates to a trip to the city Kaasi. This is a ritual enacted in Hindu marriages, which is the groom being upset and threatening to go away to Kaasi for ever to become a Sanyaasi i.e. a saint giving up material life; and the brides father consoles him to persuade the groom to marry his daughter.

These two epics are wonders as fresh as new, and every time is a first time.

Blessed with a Broken Arm!!!

2009-09-21T17:10:00.020+05:30

Well, it’s been a while I have blogged...uhm I have a reason: Yyyyypeeeeeeeeeee, I have a fracture. I don’t know how else I should let the world know. It was the twenty eighth day of the month of July (Phew!!!!). It was as usual the middle of the night, orrrrr……let us say around 3.30 am in the morning (Wondering what was I doing; will I was still with HP that time!!! Does that answer the question, no, then just read Too little too early, don’t have the patience, then I suggest you just ignore it and go further…). It had rained a bit the previous day rendering a few surfaces slippery.

From the place where the cab drops me I have to walk across the car parking to get into the office area, i.e. two flight of stairs separated by the cab parking area which leads into the main building.

The first flight of stairs was successfully taken but the second disappointed me. Two steps down the wooden stairs and I had slipped to touch-land on the hard concrete ground. My mobile phone slipped from my left hand and the right hand which was free and available had to take the entire weight of my body upon landing.

* In this picture you can cleaaaaarly see, how I landed on my right hand.

Upon landing on my right hand, I felt an excruciating pain in my palm. People around rushed to help. But the damage had already been done. Fracture: the result. In the evening I met the general physician and went for an x-ray to confirm that it was a fracture. Since I am a right hand dominant, day to day activities has become up-hill tasks to perform, like eating, grooming etc. The fracture had me a dependent; I can imagine the plight of physically retarded people. Sad!! According to medical terms the fracture is on the right hand “meta-carpel bone” under the ring finger. Luckily it is a hairline fracture a dislocation would have put me through a surgery with insertion of steel rods into my broken hand. Would have been worse!

The hand had to be rested; the plaster of Paris (P.O.P) was given the privilege to house my hand: a POP aegis. I should say many doctors in Chennai have become ruthlessly commercial. The X-ray was a self-explanatory-easily-understood-by-all-type-testimony to the fracture I bore. Any dumb idiot could take a glance and call it a fracture. The General Physician I consulted had dressed my hand with a crepe-bandage; he suggested that I consult an Orthopedic. Just to see if the fracture needed more dressing. He wrote me to an Ortho in the National Hospital at Parry’s. Well according to me the ortho had zero diagnosis to do, absolutely! Every thing was black and white,( literally and figuratively) in the X-ray that it was a fracture.

The doctor held the X-ray against the light and royally declared the Fracture 2009 Open. Well that is exactly how it was, for the fact that he charged 700 Rupees as Consultation fees, all that money for re-diagnosing an already-diagnosed-fracture, nice job eh, the ortho has. Furthermore, I was charged a 300 Rupees for Casualty fees, because he made the POP around my hands in the casualty ward, which is couple of rooms across his ward and another 300 rupees for the POP and bandages. Phew, pure-loot-under-the-bright-sun. No question that the money is worth my right hand, but just notice the deceit.

And it was now time for POP-couture 2009 late summer collections. He he yes, the POP looked cool I should say, to extent that I could flaunt it. (Did you check out SRK’s broken arm…pretty trendy ey). More so, I had become a subject to public sympathy; from the known to unknown all of them empathized with the wound-bearer. Every one had an idea of what I should be doing to fix my broken arm, every one….

Some overly concerned strangers suggested that I go to Puttur to the traditional bone setters for the very popular (now I know that it is popular) “Puttur Kattu”. I even found out that what I was wearing was a “Maavu kattu” in tamil, wow quiet some learning for a hairline fracture uhm. And many more such profound ideas were showered upon the well being of my hand. People around easily seem to know what is right for others than what is right for their own selves, uhn!!!!

I mean it was a shock to all, universal. To friends, family, colleagues, tender-coconut vendors, corporation road sweepers, mechanics, neighbors, (the list continues) domestic staffs at office, telephone bill collector, people at the bank, well I would say almost every one I came across. Some of them even offered me un-conditional help. I guess a helpless little girl with a broken hand wins way too much sympathy, mind you appearances could be deceptive (ha ha ha).

But the sunny side of it all, I got a most desired 5 days break when I was serving my notice period. It was heaven, and at the right time. Shhhhh…..right time for what, you may ask. Well, now that is a secret!!!!

“Quiet a slice orrr should I say quiet a B-R-E-A-K, it was”? Well, I am hopping to get well at the earliest. After all, I would miss my sweet little right hand; a popular and relevant old rhyme to end with: Humpty-Dumpty sat on a wall,

Humpty-Dumpty had a great fall;

All the king's horses, and all

the king's men.
(Lets include "all the king's Orthopedes too").
Could not put Humpty Dumpty
together again.

hehe, now you know who the characters of the old poem were, the mystery of the old poem is thus solved (chuckles). Enjoy life in its twist and turns.

Too Much, Too Early!

2009-06-10T11:41:00.012+05:30

It has been long time since I have been on a night shift. Since yesterday I have become a subject of a pseudo-night-shift, or the so called early morning shift, starting at 3.30 am in the morning and ending at 12.30 in the noon.

I personally think that night shift is a taboo! It is an uncivilized shift which leaves you with no time for your own self; all that one can do is eat and sleep and work! Life becomes primitive that way, zero socializing, uhn. I, a self-proclaimed introvert, don’t socialize much otherwise as well.

The time that I am in now is a little deceptive, looks like an early morning shift, but it is quiet difficult to put your self up against sleep once you reach home in the after noon. And once you fall asleep it is equally difficult in the night to sleep in between 9 p.m. to 2 a.m. in the morning. This timing makes one an amalgamation of an early-bird and a late-bird.

But it was a different experience to be quasi-nocturnal. The emptiness of the otherwise chaotic streets of Chennai, grips you as you leave to work in your cab with a heavy head (heavy due to the lack of sleep!). Close to zero decibels in the roads are quiet an unlikely-metropolitan display. One can also espy that places in Chennai are not that far from each other, in the absence of an unruly traffic.

You find people sleeping in the pathways, a direct reflection of the poor social system pervading in our country. Uhnnn, I could only feel sympathetic at such a show. One can also notice night watchmen keeping a vigil, some of them actually snoozing away their work and some being fair. The relatively cleaner air, that whisks across your face as the cab races in top speed. And not to forget the droplets of car running around as a result of the increasing number of youth working in the night shifts, the city owes this to the effects of globalization.

Well it is just been a couple of days in this shift, I could notice that time runs away from 3.30 to 6.30 a.m.. Around six in the morning you notice the first light of the day slowly but steadily winning its war against the darkness. I am not so much of a morning person, but morning Chennai is beautiful I should confess. It is lesser chaos and lesser pollution, a different world from the usual or the normal (in the case of Chennai).

My work place is a quaint place; it appears both small and big at the same time. Early hours at desk just slips by stealthily, unnoticed. Around six to seven a.m. you get this striking hunger pounding your stomach, you can feel the gastric juices have a ball inside your tummy. An unexplainable hunger hits you like a giant wave. It enables me to run to the pantry for an early homemade-breakfast. (Courtesy: My mom who toils to make breakfast for me, that hour of the night!)

After the breakfast it is time for a steaming cup of tea or coffee dispensed from the Lavazza coffee machine, which actually is the star of the pantry area. A hot cup of coffee or tea acts like a good dose of some forbidden drugs which enlivens you during that time of the day, a must-have kind. The shots of tea or a coffee is best enjoyed with the panoramic view offered by the huge glass-window-wall in the pantry. It gives you a good 180° (or may be slightly less) of the suburban Chennai, in the direction Porur to Poonamallee, from the sixth floor of the tall structure that my workplace is.

You notice more greenery than one would expect to see in the heart of Chennai. Beautiful bunches of the palm of the coconut garnishes the landscape; it looks like a flower bouquet made of green flowers against the back drop of the morning sky cheerfully lit by a soothing sun. Wonderful view, I am sure Chennai would look manifolds beautiful if we had managed to keep some more greenery in place across the city.

After that break, the remaining time runs swiftly by, as well, in work. So when it half past noon, it is time to go to home, catch some good food and a more required rest for the day. To assimilate all the energy and will for another day of work from half past three a.m. to half past twelve in the noon. A grooving working experience it is. Nevertheless, life goes on!

In the bazaars of....Sowcarpet

2009-05-19T17:24:00.009+05:30

I wanted to get my salwar suit done, my cousin Deepa suggested that we go to Sowcarpet. Every time I have been there, the place takes me by awe and leaves me with images and moments to recollect. Such kaleidoscopic spectacle, every visit is an experience. So, Sowcarpet is a locality in North Chennai, very next to Parrys. This is an area bustling with activities day in and day out, all days of the week. It is a highly commercial area, and it takes one by surprise with the millions of business transactions that can place in day unnoticed in the innumerable shops, most of them which are not more 10 square feet of area.

An evening of shopping experience in Sowcarpet certainly spells a psychedelic marvel and a lot of fun. Most streets in Sowcarpet are very narrow, with houses built very close to each other, it literally looks like they are stuck to each other, and most houses house a shop in the ground floor and residence above.

Majority of people living in this areas are Jains from Gujarat and Rajasthan, who also run their business around the same area, and not to forget the Kommuti Chettiars who have been living there for many generations.

The commercial activities around are whole-sale and retailing. And there is hardly a thing in this world that you can buy from in and around Sowcarpet, is the feel one gets. There is a good amount of Hindi spoken in this area, to an extent that for a moment you get a good doubt that you are in Chennai, or for that matter any where in Tamil Nadu. Even the name boards of shops are only in Hindi or even in Gujarathi.

The area is characterized by Chaos and rush, people throng the streets, pedestrians, some on cycle, motor bikes, rickshaws, crowding the already narrow streets. But there is so much of beauty in the chaos, I think. So many people make their livelihood out of the chaos, and it is the same chaos which has produced many fabulous entrepreneurs. Million of deals are struck as millions of rupees flow freely in the same space where people cannot move easily. As the night falls the shops are beautifully lit and the jari on the sarees on display sparkles with glee in the shop lining the streets, inviting the people passing by to buy one.

And one could notice that different streets in Sowcarpet sell different things, like for clothes you might have to throng the Mint street, and for electrical good may be Audiappa Naicken Street, and in Nainiappa Naicken Street one would find a row of country medical shops selling herbs. Also notice a lot of street vendors selling food items, sugarcane juices, or even clothes and other accessories. It is a classical bazaar experience of the eastern world.

Not to forget all the lovely Jain and Hindu temples which decorate the area, temples like Kandaswamy Temple and a Swetambar Jain Temple in the Mint street are quiet famous.

However from experience I know that shopping here in the monsoon could be a very messy affair. But shopping else where in Chennai in the monsoon could be equally messy too. Nevertheless, you name it and you can buy it in Sowcarpet and more even it is so well connected to all parts of the city through buses, and it is just a few kilo meters away from Chennai's Central Railway Station. So I have been there (Sowcarpet) and done it, its time for any one who has not to indulge in a visit. Get lost in the chaos and enjoy the discomforts.

On a finishing note, I would love to share this most beautiful poem by Sarojini Naidu called "In the Bazaars of Hyderabad" which would vividly elucidate a Sowcarpet experience.

What do you sell, O ye merchants ?
Richly your wares are displayed.
Turbans of crimson and silver,
Tunics of purple brocade,
Mirror with panels of amber,
Daggers with handles of jade.

What do you weigh, O ye vendors?
Saffron and lentil and rice.
What do you grind, O ye maidens?
Sandalwood, henna, and spice.
What do you call , O ye pedlars?
Chessman and ivory dice.

What do you make, O ye goldsmiths?
Wristlets and ankles and ring,
Bells for the feet of blue pigeons
Frail as a dragonfly's wing,
Girdles of gold for dancers,
Scabbards of gold for the king.

What do you cry, O ye fruitmen?
Citron, pomegranate, and plum.
What do you play, O ye magicians?
Spells for aeons to come.

What do you weave, O ye flowergirls
With tassels of azure and red?
Crowns for the brow of a bridegroom,
Chaplets to garland his bed,
Sheets of white blossoms new-garnered
To perfume the sleep of the dead.

-Sarojini Naidu

A Murder of Crows

2009-05-18T20:07:00.012+05:30

Elections just went by, Congress had just won by a good 262 seats and the Congress Working Committee (The CWC) had called for a meeting to discuss the formation of the Government. Meetings seems to be this one thing the world today cannot do without, it happen at various levels, amongst various people, for various reasons… so what is so amusing about meetings, well it does amuse you when it happens differently…

It was, 17th of May 2009, a quiet summer evening and I was sitting with my mom on the slightly-heated-red-painted-chairs made up of concreted in the May Day Park. We were discussing some earthly topics of that day when I saw this interesting crow show, all of a sudden a group of some 15 crows assembled at that place, they assembled making some violent cawing. They assembled as if they were in a formation of a circle (it was not a perfect circle though) but was good enough as to face each other in the formation, then for some time all the crows maintained silence together, and then just a few (say four of them) cawed for few seconds, and then again followed by a period of silence.

Then this group of crows just hoped a few paces in one direction and shifted the group to a new spot (say 2 feet from the old spot), at this new spot the group cawed together again but on a low base sound making a cawing sound in a different pitch. Then four of five crows from the formation took flight in an angle, made a small circle in air and all of them flew back to the congregation without stopping any where during the flight. One could call it a small flight, they made a small circular loop in the air.

Again, the group hopped together a few paces but now in a different direction, thus moving the group again to a couple of feet in a different direction, then they remained silent again, and after coming to the new formation they cawed together , like they were discussing together. Every time the flock moved, they moved together in the same direction and maintained this "silence period" after which they chose to caw. Either one crow started and then the group followed or all of them began at the same time like an unsynchronized chorus.

And then something most abrupt just happened. A good part of the group took off and perched upon the Neem tree above and cawed irregularly few times. The remaining took soon after in few seconds and sat on the wall opposite to the tree. And then these crows went their ways like they had nothing to do with each other, or may be they did have nothing to do with each other, But what was interesting to notice was that it was a controlled group behavior, like they were actually discussing something (the Crow Working Committee he he) with each other to reach to a decision. It was so beautiful to watch, it only seemed like that they were speaking a different language that I didn’t know of.

Study says that crows are apparently as clever as Great Apes. For more details check the link: http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2004/12/1209_041209_crows_apes.html.

It is generally said crows meet at a point before they roost i.e. to sleep, the bird equivalent of hibernation. Literally: a meeting to fall asleep. Interesting thing eh! Isn’t bird watching a lot of fun?

The Air(s) of Summer!

2009-04-25T15:45:00.017+05:30

It is burning hot in Chennai. It is barely May and it is scorching hot. Eight ‘o’ clock sun should already give you a stroke in your head. Well it is summer time folks. The thought of the sultry heat petrifies me.

* Heat distribution over the world.

Chennai is a tropical city and being a Chennaiite heat is no new phenomenon; I literally grew up with it. But three years in Deutschland were good enough to get used to the cold weather. Summer experience in 2007 in Chennai after two and a half year in Germany was pure hell on earth. I remember getting up in the night and crying (like a child), unable to beat the heat, worsened by the occasional power cuts. I am still horrified when I look back. I should say that it took me only less then 4 months to get used to the local weather, that is how quickly the mind conditions itself to the change.

* Scanty shades provided by the few trees in Chennai, an Oasis!

I had this super-chance to step out in the summer sun-shower couple of days ago. I could see a lot of people with umbrellas to escape the direct sun. So many of them as if it were raining. May be it was raining, raining-heat. Well May and June yet to be, phew now this thought daunts me to hell.

Writing about summer in Chennai, I am wondering what the very many things that characterize the old and the modern Chennai are, except for the humidity, the baking heat and all the other horrors that go along with them.

Summer holidays are so typical of the season, used to relish them as a child. Of course such long break is a luxurious thought now, now that I belong to the working fraternity. However can never forget the ones I enjoyed during my school days. Ever hot, oops, ever-green memories (slip of tongue, for good)!

Summer is the time for cotton; every thing that is cotton and light is in. Many designers get geared up to show case their summer collection. Wear up your cotton, and those big goggles, get colorful….

* Mangoes, Mangoes!!!!

Let us not forget our Mangoes. Mangoes, mangoes goes the man vending mangoes through the heated up streets. Piles of mangoes flood the bazaars; I still remember how the whole bazaar is intoxicated with the aroma of the sweet mangoes if there is a swell- outgrowth that season. I could see so many mango trees heavy with their fruits, flaunting away in a fruity-extravaganza. There was not one mango tree in the city that I could see which was not heavily seasoned with fruits.

* Thats one of the most delicious bed!

The lump some watermelons and the Sugar cane juice, and our very own tender coconuts. I have always stopped by these road side vendors and tried them and never fallen sick. Summer yummies.

Talking so much about fruiting and fruits, I have noticed that most trees pollinate and flower and fruit during summer. If you are a keen nature observer look for those greenish dust painting the road under the trees. It is easily noticeable in vicinity supporting a lot of trees. It would rather strike you so hard that you cant help but take note. You should try driving around Besant Nagar to witness the green grandeur. If there were many more trees all over Chennai this Phenomenon would be a very distinct and rather prominent and most definitely talked or written-about phenomenon. The fact that we have denied the city of its trees, the nature has in return denied us the lovely spectacle of the greenish display of its natural art in the streets. Sad indeed. Whatever we sow, so shall we reap! (Pudiya thathuvam 100031)

What about the Vathals (Chips), vadams, and the Maavadus (pickle) for the season. “Traditional mothers”(this species of womankind is slowly and almost becoming extinct now) make vathal and vadam in summer making use of the suns benevolence (Modern mothers don’t even make breakfast every morning these days, he he ). News: it is not only electricity (solar electricity) that could be made out of the killing sun, one can make yummy food too (perhaps we could call them solar food, and on eating them you would be on a solar diet, oh my gawd some body stop me)!

Thinking of summer and food, I am also reminded of the meaty, beery (subjective!), colorful and fun-filled barbeques in Emden during my Schule days. “A barbeque under the Chennai sun”- this as of now, is just a thought, never ventured though. I could imagine: it would be all about barbequing and being barbequed, grilling and being grilled, heating and being heated, not to forget eating and being eaten by the sun.

* One cannot find a cartoon more relevant. Courtesy: The Times of India

One more very interesting or rather burning phenomenon of the summer is what I would call the baking-car phenomenon. Let us imagine that you have a plan to do some shopping on a hot summer day (aasai yaara vitudhu). And you have planned it smartly by choosing to shop in one of those air-conditioned malls to escape the heat. (Nowadays almost all the shopping places are air conditioned). You drive to the mall and you park your car, then you get into those shops, enjoy or suffer the shopping consequences (this is subjective too, depending upon you are a man or a woman or both or whatever….he he). Once you are religiously done with the shopping rituals, you go back to your car to head home or wherever. The moment you get into the car (which is also air conditioned) you hasten to switch on the A\c. Because the car is now pre-heated to the right condition to cookie-you-up, thanks to the constant shower of sunshine on the car at the park place. Those few initial moments after getting into the car feels like sitting in a state-of-the-art oven, until the A\c in the car start to take effect (which is definitely a good 10 mins time or even more….)

Empty streets in the noon, this is something very common in the peak summer. The time between 10.30 am and 4 pm, one would barely notice people in the streets. Like all of a sudden all the people have become nocturnal (well I have discussed enough about nocturnal animals in my other blog “An Ocassional Insomniac”, so I shall spare the topic now). The streets are so empty like it is some kind of spell( Try : Expecto Empty-Streetonam!!! He he….oops dint work…may be you should try it with your wand, not my fault!!!). Caution: this spell of empty-street does'nt work after 4 pm. The one good news in Chennai, unlike in europe, the sun goes down in Chennai around 6 o clock in the evening anyways.When the sun becomes less severe people of Chennai dare to come out of their hide outs. One could also witness the many beaches of Chennai swell with crowd during summer. To an extent that sometime you are forced to leave the beach just because you couldn’t find a parking place (courtesy: personal experience).

One could also notice that most regions in India celebrate their respective beginning-of-the- year during the month of April. People of the olden days were glad to welcome the returning sun, I guess. Tamil New Year, Ugadi, Onam etc falls in Summer. Summer Celebrations!!!!

Oh, so much about summer, and what else, humidity, sweat, heat, ice creams, cool drinks etcetera, are common to summer in any city. And the horrifying thing is that May and June are still due, and not to forget the Agni Nakshatram, time for some prayers and may be some Amritha Varshini too!

However, there is one community in Chennai that remains unbeaten by and unshaken. These people are always victorious against the sun and never ever have been conquered. Any guesses??? Yes I am writing about the people of Chennai who are in love. Under love's aegis these souls remain undisturbed and invincible. You would see good number of them cuddling each other in hot Marina sands at 42 degree Celsius, not only Marina for that matter, any corner of the street goes un-spared. Seems like all the laws of heat (not the joules laws of heat, noooooo!!!) are rendered “invalid” by these people. So, I guess, one just has to fall in Love, the best way to beat the heat. You never have to follow the summer rules, the summer tips and all the other nonsense, no umbrellas, no sunscreens, no coolers.Nothing, he he. Love makes one summer-proof, I believe. And this is perhaps what one would call " finishing a hot topic on a cool note"! YESSS!!!

Life is fun, right???

2009-03-04T17:39:00.012+05:30

Mmm, I met my good friend today….had a nice conversation with her…..We were catching up the two years that we missed together…but not much, I had to break the catching-up cause I had to rush to work.

Many things that I realized: how time stealthily slips by, as quiet as silence it self. It leaves you behind as a byproduct of its own self, through its different phases. The millions of faces that we come across and the many different things that happen when we were with them that form a part of memory.

This human brain is a fascinating thing, retains so many instances, and that too as vivid as live. And when you retrospect on them on a quiet day with a fond friend it feels like heaven. Going through every ins and outs of ones life. The good news is I am only 26 now, am wondering how much will be in store as we grow older. To share.. I guess, in life any ones basic need is to share, his life, his moments in life….

It was a dialogue from the movie “Shall we dance?” which got me thinking. Quote “Why would any one want to get married? Why do we make such a promise to share the life, the day and the night, the ups and the downs, the good and the bad, the happiness and sorrow, the important and mundane?”

I quote again “I guess we need a witness. There are a million people living in this world and no one would care what and how an individual’s life is lived. That is why the promise is made of being a witness of each others life. Of telling that special-someone that ‘Your life will not go unnoticed’. ‘I will be there to witness you life, the way it is’ ”. (Unquote,) and I shall do it with love.

Love, marriage, friends, companionship, family, all of them serve this basic want of man to share his moments. Isn’t it so true, well I can’t agree more.

My Best Friends Wedding…..

2009-01-16T17:39:00.018+05:30

I guess I am eligible to write something on this, now that Mansoor is married and I was apart of it… his invitation is a must-read, would love to share:

* The picture above is however not from Mansoor's wedding. The bride in the picutre is another very good friend of mine, Klaudyna, who also got married very recently, to the love of her life. Well, i could have more than just one best friend. Cheers!

My lovely friend vani,

Iam inviting you for my marriage which is planned on 11th jan 2009. You are one of my dearest one. So i need your presence which would really make me happy. Iam sending you my marriage invitation also remember that my reception is planned on the next day at the same place at 1.00 A.M so dont forget to attend that too.

with love
Mansoor

This was his e-mail to me. Gee Mansoor, that is possibly the most beautiful invitation a friend to get from another friend. Thanks!!!

I had a great day….memories flooding through my head as I met and saw people, like I was watching movie. The trip down the memory lane was pleasant, indeed. The fact that we are all grown ups, hit me harder. Felt like we just met and, now all of us have so moved-on with life, isn’t it. Shyam also shares the same opinion. Life just went by, with style… hehe.

And the bride, very cute, baby-cute-girl she was. A small chat with her made me realize that I needed no introduction to her. Amazing girl, “lucky Mansoor” I thought.

What a wonderful day, full of memories… Me happy!!!

God bless you Mansoor!

All my friends are getting married or getting hitched, or finding the someone-of-their-lives. It’s a nice reminder of the aging thing… in India we age earlier than the rest of the world does. Close-to-everyone of my friends are married or at least committed…nice feeling it is … Mmm my turn is just around the corner as well…. Prayers are all I need!!!

Les Miserables.....Erakkuraya Naragam

2008-08-01T18:17:00.008+05:30

Separation: This is imaginably the most savage word any language can offer. I understand there could be different forms of “Separation”. Separation form ones own country, separation form ones family, separation from ones friends, separation from love, and some times it is also separation from certain things, or concepts or activities…

And there are likely to be many more forms of it, that I am unaware….. I remember having read somewhere (source oblivious) that separation from ones country is the most brutal of all forms, well; I survived it for three years…yes, difficult, it was. Some times I feel great that this country called me back, but conceivably it was the underlying feeling of separation that did, called me (back). (Or was it that Germany returned me or rather drove me away….naaaa I think the former sentence is the right one.)

*Six Degrees of Seperation

Nevertheless, separation in any form results in misery. And the loss of anything is greater only in its absence. So how does one deal with separation. This is one question that is haunting my soul, my entire self, swirling constantly around me, threatening to stay unless answered.

Separation tears me asunder, it shreds my soul and rips me apart into pieces and makes me feel empty, despite of the munificence. Thus rendering life pointless, like you can see the whole world shrink to a point and then disappear into nothingness. “Erakkuraya Naragam/ Almost hell” (the Sujatha aficionado that I am!).

It feels like that Life is just roughly perfect, but just the just the lack of that someone or something that nullifies your life to a mere Zero, a goose egg, a nix. Nothing but nothingness, an unspoken vacuum, a complete emptiness, almost like the dark spot of the universe. Life becomes a sequel of “Les Miserables”.

So, coming back to the same aching question: How does one deal with it? Just HOW? May be we could attempt some crazy things to keep our spirits up. Talking about spirits, the right kind of spirits could help keep your spirits right…hehe ok I guess this is getting a little too spiritual..hehe (pun intended)

What are the very many ways, to put up this Phase of life? I wonder!!!! . After all this I would gather the guts to say: life is just good, otherwise.

My London Connection.........

2008-03-20T22:30:00.010+05:30

Mmm long time that I am dying to write this…well finally I made it….

Guess whats cooking? Well this time it is MUSIK, people. So ja….what Is wrong with me..isn't it? Well nothing serious, just getting bored of the mundane things that made up my Chennai Life I guess so decided to do something interesting and guess what did I get my hands on this time “ a V I O L I N ”…just wanted to kill time…..But it is rather killing all the people who bear an audience (by chance or by choice).Well that’s what they feel my music does to them….well to call it music is sin….in the first week it was noise, slowly it was almost noise and now, after a couple of months it is almost like music now… for its metamorphosis into absolute music, I am sure there is long way..God bless me and all the people around me till I reach there, haha.

Well the first song I was made to play was…. Haha “London Bridge is Falling Down”, and apparently my only London-connection. As I was toiling hard to get the A’s and the A #’s right, I remember, my mama said “I am sure it would fall, If this is how you are going to play….” Maaan beginning with music is difficult and that too with a violin…phew.

Then what interested me then later was the History of the Bridge…well found out that the Bridge has a loooong , interesting History, a history of over 200 years…and was built and rebuilt so may times in its long loong history…The current London Bridge was designed by Mott, Hay and Anderson, constructed by contractors John Mowlem and Co from 1967 to 1972, and opened by Queen Elizabeth II on 17 March 1973. For more inquisitive souls….please click on the following link for more details… http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/London_bridge.

And call it coincidence, just got some amazing first hand pictures of London bridge from my good chum “Dude”. She had made them when she went to London for an interview.. will update those picture in a few day… well my advice is to ignore the “Dude” and admire the bridge…hahahaha.

P.S: Soory Sam..trust me….really wanted to say that u looked very sweet ….in those pictures, I swear..haha , and people, I am looking for a nice name for my Violin..will report when i will name it...;)

Another Ramya....................

2007-12-17T22:35:00.003+05:30

This is one of the uhmmm..well, call it eccentricities…which caught my eyes. My aunt had changed her residence,.…and this new house had something quiet interesting about it. Its is with its name….the fact that we have the habit of giving a name to our houses, to buildings…..we are familiar with the concept, yes, but what is so interesting or humor provoking about this building. This building is called (now hold your breadth): Another Ramya. Strange name, right? Indeed!!!

Owe it all to the genius of the owner of the structure who decided upon the name…kudos!!!!! BRAVO BRAVO!!! Well the logic being that: Ramya is the name of his only daughter, so this daughter-philic father decided to raise a building which he did and named it Ramya…(well fair…by all fairness could a father who dotes upon his daughter could name the building he owns after his darling daughter)….well our loving many-building-raising-too-much-thinking-father went ahead and built another grand structure for his daughter……..looks like he gave the name for this new structure too much of a thought(raathiri le room pOttu yosikkre type)…and called it “Another Ramya”, because the building being another building to his daughters name….ha ha…Trust me, all of us laughed our stomachs out…when we heard the story: the tale behind the thought….

Well this extraordinary headwork of the land-lord..leaves one interesting question open..what will be the name of the next building he makes..it could be Ramya Part III, RamyaIII, Ramya Returns, or Yet Another Ramya, One More Ramya…., hahaha the list seems like never ending(probabilities so may that we could go for betting hahaha)…ok another question which does arise what if the landlord becomes tired..or if he makes one last building then how would he name it..:Ramya No More, Enough Ramya…Ramya Please…….let your imagination run wild…ok ok enough enough….all vetti thinking….

However, standing ovation to the dad who in his very own way told this world just about how much he loves his daughter.

Kölsch und Alt.....

2007-12-11T22:12:00.005+05:30

Its time to get thirsty again.....

My recent visit to Germany, gave me new insights into the country...this time, I could notice some subtleties which failed to occur earlier...just discovered the land a little more....but these are the subtleties but what about the gross facts....which did dawn...

Learnt one more interesting Beer-fact...he he. I stayed in a small town called Hilden. Small but old and a reasonable history....some 60000 inhabitants. Geographically close to Cologne and much closer to Dusseldorf. So this not so ancient city lies in between these biggies.

So now coming to the Beer part of the story... there was an interesting conversation over the table at my work place among my German colleagues. I was as usual lost in my own world until for a moment their argument caught my attention. The bunch was figuring out where exactly one of them lived, geographically!! So it was found that the particular employee lived exactly in the borders between the Kölsch and Alt. Well, Köln boasted of the Kölsch while the Dusseldorf of that of the Alt, both being nothing more or rather nothing less than names of Beers typical to the cities.

And I found that ordering Kölsch in Dusseldorf and Alt in Köln was a sin earlier…well not so much these days….because the two cities were old rivals and it is reflected till date when they play their Bundesliga…. So there was a beer border, an area that served Kölsch and another which served Alt… and there was also the imaginary border between the Kölsch and Alt were you could get both…phew….history...Added information….Alt was a little sweeter so the ladies prefer the Alt to the Kölsch… the German bunch never ceased to discuss further with zeal never-ceasing…..and the German-blah blahs started to bounce of my head as my thoughts started to drift away.

Musings Fall but Knowledge Breaks

2007-12-11T21:19:00.006+05:30

Well writing after a long long time......Well so many things to write...to share...but if i would end up doing it.. thats a big question...This time it is trivialities or welll..may be it is not ......it is one of the many things which caught my attention.....

(Now, wait you have to read the quoted lines in a slow melancholic tone for the speical effects...okee...alright, continue....)

Quote "Could fullfillment ever be felt as deeply as loss? Love must surely reside in the gap between desire and fullfillment, in the lack, not the contenment. Love was the ache, the anticipation, the retreat, everything around it but the emotion itself ".....

Romantic....indeed....but that apart, how true or untrue this statement is.....are we people who really think...that sadness is beautiful.....anguish-glorified-sentiment-philic types....orrrrrr is that statement indeed true.....thought provoking..well if you have the time for........

Musing never seem to fail......musings fall but knowlege breaks.....he he.

You call this Scribbling!!

2007-03-22T01:33:00.003+05:30

Today i donno what I shuld write….i have nothing to write…. but I donno when I will get my time to write online the next time sooo….juzz making use of the time….I guess!!!

These days kindof taking some perennial rest! very tired…not doing anything. attended couple of interviews and even got rejected..he he. but instead of making more application, here I am flying home next week. all excited to make the big landing the second time…YES!!! if it wasnt for my bro’s push and sundar’s effort I donn see myself flying next week….

Okee lemme narrate a summary of what I did all this time….was in emden on the 26th to consult with the professor…about my documentation..he dint have much to say….so just witnessed Buraks defence and went back for an interview on the 27th…got rejected for a strange reason…..he ehe…came running back on the 28th for the submission of my final draft in the form of a book!!! so in all the hurry forgot my mobile charger (well this lead to loads of trouble later on..but lets ignore it for now).....took the earliest train..dint sleep the whole night so actually ended up sleeping in the train!!!

Last 2 months were awfully tiring and my God it was so much of running around and planning and doing stuffs…that am feeling mentally drained and physically exhausted..that am sleeping for hours these days..and feeling tired all the time…

The only exciting news being that am going home!!! this is the news thatz keeping me up I guess!! after the 28th it was mostly monotonous..after a few days of rest..started preparing for my defence which was scheduled on the 16ht of march..in between met up with shyam..on an evening and discussed loads of stories…some serious digging up of the past over some drinks…

Then came my tryst with destiny on the 14th…defended my thesis ….my presentation went on quiet well…and also the question answer session which followed, for which my Prof. that 2.0 is what I deserved!!! then after I came home..made some lovely fotos with Mr. and Mrs.Voges…..the idea came form Mr.Voges though, not only that he had also got me a champagne to celebrate my graduation…wat a lovely man….i was speechless for all the care and …..still cant fine words to describe I guess!!!

I had already recived a call for another interview from Vattenfall Trading Services GmBH, Hamburg for another interview on the 16th.. so had to run to Hamburg on the 15th… Muthu arranged for an accommodation in Hamburg with his friend Gayathri…before the interview I had the time to see St.Michel which was right opposite to the company..it was a grand sight to witness the cathedral from within…elegance personified..a splendid display of Christian architecture…gothic curves and the huge orgels and to consummate the grandeur was the huge altar bearing Christ on the cross….it was a moment of peace inside the church.

Then had my interview…the HR ..Ms. Swiderska was a young woman…..actually much younger than I expected her to be…with a middle aged man from the Logistics department, Michel.. I don’t remember his complete name…well it was a round of questions and answers …some basic questions in English and Deutsch like what my soft skills were etc etc. then they took me around the work floor… it was an interesting set up with a lot of monitors showing figures and stochastic curves… all to do with fuel trading and stuffs…quiet a young crowd from what i had seen in e.on…most of them under 30…some one named steffan took over in English to explain what they actually were doing under that roof!!! he was pretty good I should confess in explaining.. most of the explanations made sense except for the specific ones…and for his occasional nods and head shakes which were also interesting to observe..he claimed he came from Berlin and that he loved hamburg!! interesting I thought….. however there were so many men that it was kind of strange…and I thought it wud be highly uncomfortable to work even if I wud have got a job there..fortunately or unfortunately they dint select me..

But after the interview….got a call from sundar who suggested that I go to hannover directly so that I could do the shifting over the week end..so went to hannover and did the cleaning..well not really, I was not in the best condition so sundar did the lot. Also had the chance to meet Sam’s dad..who was there for the CeBIT messe……sweet dad he was….should I say he pampered me…..loads of adorations for a dad who loves his daughter!!!

Then Sridhar joined us on Sunday the 18th and then we came home did the last minute packing and cleaning and then in the morning were off to catch the 9.20 train. I sugessted we take a cab but then Sunar suggestedt that we take the bus to the station, we all agreed (for the sake of economics). It was fun or may be not, cause we had a lot of luggage and the bus was getting filled with more passengers in every stop, and half way through in one stop a lot of mothers with their prams boarded the bus, this eventually clogged the bus, problem of logistics within the bus. We felt guilty of being root of the problem, I guess, so we disembarked the bus. And took a tram from the adjoining tram point to the train staion, there was some time loss owing to the transition, therefore we missed the 9.20 train. There was still 2 hours time for the next train, we came up with a lot of ideas to kill the next two hours, it ws a nice sunny day but it was biting cold. And the i guess the cold in the air won against the suns effect, so we decided to spend it in the BALZZAC coffee house for a coffee, this place was within the premises of the station..spent the time gulping cofee, seasoning the cofee (talking about seasoning the cofee, try hot capuccino or cofee seasoned with powedered sugar,...mmmm I love it...)and eating cookies, pastries, chatting...was nice, till our next train at 11.20. We reached Emden at 14.20, came home with a taxi quickly unpacked every thing and both sundar and Sridhar left for the next train at 15.50….

The Picture underneath is the one taken by Sundar when we were having our coffee at Balzzac at Hbf Hannover....

And am still relaxing recovering from the stress and fatigue…kind of lost 2 kgs over the weekend…..and here am I writing ….whatever came to my mind!!! heeeh ee thatz it from me…expecting to write loads now that I am going back home!!! however…let us see if I end up doing it!!! okee till then tchao!!

When prayers are misinterpreted!!!!

2007-02-14T15:07:00.002+05:30

Dint sleep yesterday as well….well before all of u jump to conclusions, I dint sleep…not because I couldn’t, sleep did knock my door yesterday but only I was too busy writing my thesis to sleep…some last minute work….otherwise, there is no satisfaction of having done something well….at least for me…

Belief in God is a good idea…well am a staunch believer myself…but next time you say your prayers make sure you say it right, I mean clear. So for all you people who pray, take care the next time you venture to say a prayer.

What happened then is your question, right? Well, here you go:
I do have my own wishes about my PRINCE, and guess what GOD was kind enough to bless me with a PRINCE but not just a PRINCE but He went one step ahead to give me PRINCE2: which is Project Management IN Controlled Environment- version 2, in short is a Project Management Methodology and thus my Thesis topic!!!…..sigh….Well this is what could you could end up with if your prayers are misinterpreted…

Some parallelisms could be drawn…however thick or thin. Well this PRINCE stole my sleep as well; least out of love forget it….but out of anxiety and worry. He (PRINCE2) gave me stress, loads of running around….starting from the book hunt, went Twice to Bremen and only the second time got lucky to get hold of the book, Tried in Uni Lüneburg, in FH Hannover, amazon, e-bay, book shops where not..got me around 4 weeks to find a book. It felt like success just to have reached the book…finally

Phew... my PRINCE (2- mm idhukku yellam onnum koraichal illai), courtesy Prof.Mundt, beat a lot out of me, my sleep, my peace of mind and…..well it changed my life style….past one month, just imagine got hold of the book on the 9th of jan and today the 14th of feb is already my schedule for my first draft submission for my Thesis report (could my v’day get any better…am sure my report will make a good v’day gift to my prof, padichittu avar yenna aappu vekka poraro). Trust me, it was maad rush….had to bring out the discipline…cut out on my pass times……to the extent that I was waiting to write this blog….now for weeks...and doing it finally after I have submitted my draft in the morning today, well I am dying to resume on all my fav activities. However one worse affect was the anxiety and stress it caused….dint lemme sleep for days….and then the occasional long trips from Hannover to Emden..phew..I could say: Moribund with Thesis!!!

Well this is not it!!! My Prof now gets to go through and correct my work…..if any changes need to be made…I am sure there are many of them….i donno…Kinda scared…one part is liberally copied from one source….still remember what Javed told me yesterday when he met me online: Copie adichu yeludhinaa dhaan adhu Master Thesis appadi illenaa adhukku peru PhD (it is Master thesis only if one copies from a source if otherwise it would be called a Ph.D)….sigh, not enough if only Javed knows the Truth, hes got to share his genius, some day…otherwise such a loss to the society..right???

In the worst case, if it doesn’t please him (prof)…it could be a lot of trouble..well lemme see, I ve given my best…and still final submission and my defence to go..then the happiest part “I graduate” and I live happily ever after, but If (there is a Clause to it) everything goes well….

Sooo wish me good luck….Pray for me…but please….god’s sake…be clear!!!

An Architect for a Change!!!!!!!

2007-02-09T19:43:00.002+05:30

Guess what….loads of work already….but still cant wait to share….

Yesterday it snowed reasonably….to have some fun in the snow, it felt like winter, finally. Because this year has been unusually warm…to the extent that climate change is the agenda of discussion even in the international meetings by Germany.

Never felt sooo good…………an architect for a change, a frame-shift mutation from an energy engineer to a manager to an architect. But the question is what the hell did I make???…gee people I made Snow Maaaaan….thanks to all the snow and also to Inke for the invitation and for sharing the expertise of making a snow man……if felt great after making one out of my own hands. Its some work, trust me, you first have to role some snow into a ball, it becomes difficult to roll as the size increases, and remember u have to make two of hem for the body, big ones and also one small one for the head. And after rolling the more difficult task is to put one ball on top of the other…phew that was difficult…to lift it…we were three (Anika, Inke and me) gals trying to lift it, felt already exhausted. After assembling the final touch, giving him stone eyes, a carrot nose, a twig mouth and branch hands….man, he looked handsome after completion, I could fall in love… a proud creator of an architectural splendour…such genius…..took some pics…with him..to consummate the glory….

Architecture is a big word, I know. Wonder how Davinci, Michelangelo and Bernini felt like when they made their sculptures...its insanity to put myself in the same platform, but a snow man is all i could make, my modus operandi, he he

Then we did some sledging, in a snow slope nearby..was fun hitting the steep slope and to go sliding through the snow, we played with snow, tasted it, made an angel in it, swum in it, rolled in it....and what not..kept lying around in the snow untill the cold crept into our thick robes and bit our flesh... it was time to make ourselves warm.

Went home...got into some thing more dry and warm, dropped in by the Schulzes for a hot chocolate, then supper, study and sleep. It was a stress-relieving and worry-forgetting experience

Thanks to the Schulzes, I must say, Wow, What a day!!!

An Occasional Insomniac

2007-01-18T15:46:00.006+05:30

God….I envy those souls who can sleep for hours……..well, I hope that this does not even remotely insist that I don’t sleep long´….to be honest am popular (one could check what notorious means he ehe )…. for my Spanish slumbers, sleepa-holic or thats a gross combination of words, let us say somnaholic: to be etymologically right; or to be modest (MODEST! WHATEVER!!!) lets say somnaphilic.

My personal best until now has been 16hours*….God Bless Me, well people, this is how “spoilt” an un-parented child could get….so, for all the parents out there, who are waiting to send their children abroad for studies: Think Twice!!!, wooow, did u notice what I just did, amazing, how I have mastered the talent of creating awareness among the readers. STOP!, I heard it, you said: “if this right-up manages to find a reader in the first place”, this is a display of pure jealousy…soo typical, okee okee,I will cut the crap out . ehm by the way did u notice I just made a bunch of new words for English (English thondu aattavuttaangaleyyy)….Un-parented, sleepaholic..…phew….maaaaan, some people are just unbelievably talented, arent they??? I know if your curses could kill I would be long dead).

* The above is a condition quiet opposite to what you will call Insomnia.....

Unfortunately, am also a subject to occasional sleeplessness….suffering from a small degree of , one could call it an acute insomnia…but thanks to god that it happens only occasionally, nevertheless as regular as, once in a month, ATLEAST …..

But then, I am someone who has no big problems in working in the night, in fact all my life I had been more comfortable doing my studies and other work in the night (I hate to get up early in the morning, I am that lazy, is another reason). In fact I even worked for 3 months in Chennai on a night shift without any problem. So my understanding is that my bio-rhythms are good and in tune to work in the nights, am some kind of a night animal….nocturnal*….ehm there is another beautiful word Tamil contributes, which could actually characterize the condition……is called being a “Raa-Pisaasu”, well to those of you who don’t understand Tamil, sorry, I don’t think, I would give it away this time….do it yourself…. [: p]

* The above is some examples of Noctunal animals, and yes the lady in suit is... (yes you have guessed it right) is me...hehe

All my life, I had done my bulk of studying-for-exam in the night, wrote reports, applied for internships, watched television….etcetera, without having any problem. But those where the moments I had the necessity to work, an approaching deadline or a raging exam or an necessity could have been the reason for such an action…you know desi style: working at the eleventh hours is also a reason some times…well actually necessity is the mother of all the hard work I have done, If I had done anything of that type until now….

Talking about “sleepless”, I am reminded of Ekadesi in India, well Ekadesi is an auspicious day and it falls twice in the month, the most auspicious being the Vaikunda Ekadesi which falls in the Tamil month of Maargazhi. What we do on this day is we fast the whole day, no food ….absolutely nothing, no water (but sometimes an occasional fruit and some water may be permitted) and then one had to stay awake the whole night and break the fast the next day in the morning. If, one can accomplish this: meaning a direct trip to the heaven, of course after our life on earth. This night we try killing time like playing the great Paramapadam, he he eh gotcha: the Tamil version of Snake and the Ladder, with the thick fact bronze Indian Dice rolling across the floors (news: a rolling dice doesn’t gather any moss either; be it Indian, fat, or made of bronze or what ever: pudhiya thathuvam, 10,001). But what is cruel is Every time I have kept the fast, I had invariable felt terribly sleepy, that sleep which fails to come on ordinarily on common days, flirts with me in the Ekadesi days, such cruelty, Injustice personified………………

But then there are these totally unwelcome moments in the night, when I cannot fall asleep…I try and try and I try and then I try a little bit more only to accomplish….in vain…enlightenment that this is yet another of those sleepless nights…..but what is even worse you wake up and look at the rest of the family, sleeping like a happy family should…ehhhhhmmm….. Call it, heights of jealousy!!!!!

Yesterday was one of such nights, but only after coming to Deutschland the frequency of the attack (people! The acute insomnia) has increased and it is no good news having no family around even though the jealousy part is totally missing here…this occasional insomnia is like a limited edition book……comes in limited quantities….once in while but could keep you awake for the whole night….some times even the rest of the following day….(this is could probably be the best example of the thinnest parallelism…….I know, I know I am killing you in the name of writing blogs and you poor creatures have the time and patience to come this far in my blog till reading this sentence, I really appreciate it; cool it okee cool it, see it is my turn to write but the best part is :u know ur turn really comes you can pour all your vengeance in the commentary section….but still not smart enough, cause I get to moderate the comments ha huh).

I really tried to sleep. I had to work today, keeping that in mind and the fact that I had caught a bad cold just couple of days ago and was actually recovering from it, I really wanted to catch some good night sleep yesterday….ehm but…….I tried my best till 2.45 then I saw that there was no point going on this way, so I quit, and would u believe that I actually got up to "study": “Project Management: An Introduction based on Prince2”, well how insane could a person get….if infected by insomnia……Studying juzz because of a special incapability of falling asleep, occasionally, Gawd such a geek…..Call it SIN unforgivable!!!! Could any one be more morally fallen!!!

And now the story of how one thing leads to another: I finished my reading at 4 o clock, when my alarm rang, I turned it off with a sigh and then took a quick shower and then caught the 4.56 bus to catch the 5.34 S-Bahn to my office….and guess what I was at my at 6 o clock, a unique sight, to every ones shockl in my office….did a little bit of work and it is 10.56 now still no traces of sleep instead for the occasional yawning…..well well….such a mundane thing, right, but cannot stop discussing it, I am sure there are many more such nights in the future, have no idea, how I would kill them….I am happy, cause it could be worse atleast i am not a somniloquist (sleep-talking) nor even worse a somnambulist (sleep-walker), (time for another pathetic joke: if somnambulism is sleep-walking , what could be lunambulism: YES you are right moon-walking), okee okee, relax....relax, i am finishing now, i promise......... if all your vengance and anger an curse, keeps me alive then I shall come up with more of such documented torutre, in the name of blogs. Thats All Folks!!!

P.S: I am expecting some good sleep today, at least, let me s(l)ee(p

Durstig, oder?

2006-12-20T20:46:00.006+05:30

Well, even in a(ny) strange place so many miles away from home…..after two years of “life” (depending on how it was lived: this is totally another issue of discussion) in Deutschland …..one is more used to the difference or strangeness when it strikes you….but still the musings never fail to dawn.

The money. It was late Saturday evening in winter, dark and cold, darkness driven away by the lights and heat by the heater inside the room but things change when u get out of the room in winter. It was my first experience of the German winter, since it was Saturday I had to run to fetch groceries for the next day, for there is nothing open on Sundays, at least in Kiel. I was in Plus, a retail shop which was beside my dorm, buying things for the weekends; wanted to pick up some juice, turned to the drink section, I had to walk through the alcohol section to get to the other drinks. I always had a fascination for those aesthetic bottles in which these alcohols come in…they have architectural values don’t they…accolades to the brains behind them. I continues checking the prices of bier as I was admiring the bottle and the colours of spirits filled in it, one noticeable fact strikes you that sometimes bier is cheaper than mineral water….call this an excuse or….what, Can any one cerebrate any further?

The Holyness.With winter comes "Weihnachten". Christmas: Time for the advent, the carols, the Weihnachtsmann, the snow, the expenses, the Christmas market, the festivities. The Weihnachtsmarkt or otherwise the Christmas market decorates the country, giving a warm glow in an otherwise-very-cold-winter. I am under an impression that if only Christmas was only celebrated in some other part of the year then winter would have been even more boring and thus unbearable. It is no exaggeration to say that this time of the year the city looks special, with all the festoons and the decorations, city flooded with the effigies of Santa Claus, decorated Christmas trees, and gilded wreaths, and of snowmen and snow…the red and the green and the white hues fighting with each other for dominance. In bigger cities in Germany the Christmas markets are even bigger and more extravagant, well so much about Weihnachtsmarkt, but what is this stuff made up of, one wonders. Well the Christmas markets are made up of shops selling a range of things, gifts, clothes and of course food, one could see, a heterogeneous mixture of chocolates , pastries , cakes ,bread, curry wurst and pommes and what not….and, and, and…ah hun….not to forget the “Glühwein”, nothing but wine heated up and served hot like coffee in small glasses, is typical of the Christmas markets; this drink some how reminds me of Bhang (would it be a sin to to call bhang the Indian version, for the sanctity and respect, if I am not wrong it is also called Shivji’s Prasad and served as a Prasad on the event of “Holi”), not much of an honour to this drink, is however the speciality in Christmas market. One can see potpourri of people in the market, savouring and gulping and basking in the Glühwein.

The Place, the time, the direction. After a Grinding session of “Secure Communications” (trust me communication cannot get secure any more….of the encryptions and the decryptions…..of the enciphering and the deciphering…of the channels and the receivers….of the signals and the systems…of the confusions and the fatigue), we were in the Canteen…it was lunch time, a bunch of us were quietly eating our lunch away it was barely 11 o clock in the day, we notice that there was a queue being formed, we were wondering for what, one from our bunch broke the confusion, they were giving away free bread and beer, imagine, at 11 o clock and where?...in the Heart of the university, which of course is the heart of any university…isn’t it?. Guess what, there was this huge queue, growing right in front tour eyes, no sooner we could witness students finishing up their elixirs in a blink. In Tamil there is a expression : “Idam, Porul, Eval” meaning the place (depending on time), the meaning and the direction……it felt like nothing of these were considered by the authorities who delivered the beers, impulsive indeed…..

The word. It was an ordinary school party, well in Germany there is no parties without alcohol, (why blame Germany, if conditions back home is not any different these days right?) one could hear an array of toasts being proposed, in German, in Polish, in English….well there were also a bunch of Indians there. One lady from Finland, shot a question at the desi crowd, it was simple: how would one propose a toast in Indian? (What inquisitiveness?)Well am sure she didn’t have an idea about the multi-linguistic scenario of the sub-continent, nonetheless, this left our desi colleagues spell bound, some other German students said: “well they don’t say anything they just drink” and giggled. I wouldn’t say India was ignorant to alcohol until the advent of British, no ways, I think we had our own versions of alcohol, some of which still exists, but only that in India it wasn’t so social enough a habit, to propose a toast or to have developed such linguistic equivalents. One desi intervened breaking the silence of the tongue tied desis, he said that the Indian equivalent was: “Sarakkadi”, well, well, this fella had some presence of mind, one has to agree. He was a boy from Chennai, and “Sarakku” in Chennai Tamil means Alcohol and “adi” to drink, both put together literally meant to drink alcohol, such genius. That moment, when the word was uttered the Tamil understanding crowd broke into laughter. The Indian genius settled the Finnish inquisitiveness: a million dollar question thus answered.

The event. Deutschland is a football crazy nation, the “Bundesliga” standing testimony to it. The football Saturdays could be noisy, flooded with people and full of fun. One thing you will notice is that there is no football without beer; one can witness people buying craters and craters of beer. Am sure one could imagine what would have happened during the world cup last here. Beer and broken beer bottles were pouring in the streets during the world cup as people continued to cheer and dance and sing for their teams. Beer is called the thirst quencher of soccer fans; the land went crazy. Unfortunately most Germans have to get drunk to relax, it is the cultural difference, otherwise they are an extremely reserved and polite race.

The all-pervading. It is not only football but also the other festivities of the summer; the Carneval of Köln and the Oktoberfest of München which is otherwise called bierfest, neither is possible without beer. The New Years Eve, birthdays, achievements, anniversaries, funerals, festivities, success, defeat, happiness, sadness and all the other emotions in between is celebrated in Deutschland with alcohol. Not for the weather but for the craze and taste for the drink itself, I guess.

The People: the Bavarians and the Saarlanders are labelled the thirstiest beer drinkers in the world and reports hail that a substantial part of the revenue of the country comes from beer, wine and alcohol to the extent that if the sales percent of these fall, the counties economy will have to fall together with it; does this ring any bell. So much said, I feel a friction in my throat, aaach….. I know what, am thirsty, I think I need a drink, well which one do you recommend I should drink?

An Apotheosis of Godhood

2006-11-27T13:37:00.005+05:30

Mom! Well, my Mom is exceptional in her own way, and by all means she deserves a write up doesn’t she. So much that I can write, but so much more that is still a mystery, yet to be discovered; parts of her unexplored world. She is this stereotypical, conservative mom who is overprotective of her kids; stopping to hesitate to make decisions both for herself and for her kids, at various instances of her life. The pampering is eternal – a life times package.

My mom was born in the beginning of fifties, a woman who grew up with the values of the east, or rather that of the past- purist values and beliefs. However she is one woman who is sending me loads of surprises, off late. The moments she rose to the occasion to decide; or perhaps they were all well deliberated decisions, a product of past experiences, and I was only too dumb to see them until they became too obvious.

I was always under an impression that my Mom was this rigid, inexorable woman struck with her opinionated thoughts. But it took a lot of time for me (as usual) to decipher her true self, the fashion in which she had adapted to the changing ways of life. Really makes me wonder, if she is more modern, me or her??? Call it adaptation or just reluctance to complain. Whatever it is, even to be passive, it takes a lot of discipline to contain oneself. Well adaptation is not a new lesson on the curriculum for an Indian woman. Adaptation is just a euphemism for the state of being a “door mat”, in numerous cases. Makes one to reason if “this” is, perhaps, one of the secret to the survival of a lot many Indian marriages.

A lot of women of the past had at least learned to become one (door mat) once they were married and they master the art quiet early, under the hands of their unyielding husbands. My mom was another master in this trade.

It is am amazement, for me to look back into her life, as in how much a woman can persevere, or tolerate. It aches to imagine, putting myself in her shoes, I would have given away very easily with no ifs ands or buts. What’s amazing is the amount of strength and independence education and career could give; such privileges being denied to the women of past they become a subject to destiny, nevertheless they go ahead to make ultimate sacrifices for the sake of their family or children.

Well this doesn’t mean my mom was an illiterate, no…. she had finished her schooling (P.U.C), but things were still the same in the past, no matter how educated one was, I guess. These are just observations of what I had seen her as, through these years. I am sure there are loads of other mothers who share the same platform with my mom. All martyrs in their own respect.

My mom is an embodiment of contradiction, or at least she appears to me like one. I could just imagine how confusing it could be to raise kids through the modern age. With conservatism and modernism conflicting with each other, and just to make the matters worse the lack of sufficient freedom. The number of times she had to really stop and decide; the number times she had to listen to her brain signals rather than the ones from her hearts; I think I know how tough it is.

Alas, all this realization and enlightenment took decades to happen. Like I really needed to see my mom from a distance, to have a clear picture of what metal she is made up of. Now, all those memories of silly misunderstandings, needless conversations for trivialities which I had with her agonises me. Those words spilled, and thus no use of crying over, would have inflicted so much more hurt.

My mom is missing me too, and this is painfully obvious from her voice, every time I talk to her over the phone. I think realisations occur on both sides. Neither that I was angel whom she failed to learn nor that she wasn’t concerned about me in the past, it would be a sin to make such a comment. Only we feel the loss of a thing, more deeply in its absence, right?

These words are a tribute to my mom (Well, may be to all the mothers in the world), who is this strong woman, a survivor who has shed skins, evolved, mutated with the growing resistance. Like true metamorphosis at various instances of her life, leaving her own wishes and dreams behind. “Like a candle in the wind”, banal, nevertheless true.

Mother - Gods greatest gift to mankind, he only made them to divide his own labour, because he couldn’t manifest himself with flesh and soul in every house; our first relationship in this world; the woman who teaches us to say excuse me before we could interrupt her in the public; the woman who is always there around but we only fail to notice this obvious but still invisible soul.

Now that I am living away form her, I feel the pinch of her absence. Any sight of a mom- daughter scene turns me emotional. I still remember how I cried in the arms of Esma’s (friend’s) mom when I met her after a long time, I guess I only saw my own mom in her. Mothers are omnipresent entities; (if you are a little lucky) you would notice they are everywhere. No matter how you call them: Amma, Ma, Mom, Mother…she is the same noble soul…..another parallelism to god…call him by different name, but He is this one omnipotent, all absolute soul.

So does this omnipresent, godly soul gets what she deserves. Do we give her what she is worthy of. Many a time, no, at least in my case, I owe a alot to her, an obligation-immortal which keeps you rewarding with perennial love. Love-unconditional, Love-absolute. Love is God isn’t it. Now we know what we could equate our moms to. Mother: An Apotheosis of Godhood on earth.

P.S: Ma, I Love You!

Your Most Spoilt Child

Vani

The Solitary Reaper!!!!

2006-11-10T19:48:00.003+05:30

Loneliness: this is one word most students who come to study abroad are confronted with, at least at some phases of their student lives. I am no exception. Well I also believe that that being independent and being lonely are two different things, but if you look more closely it only looks like that one form is just the other form in disguise; loneliness a by-product of Independence. Rather, to put in a different way, loneliness is the price one pays for the independence one enjoys. (I only hope that the student fraternity studying abroad will agree).

I love my independence, I truly appreciate the peace and the freedom and all the other good things that comes along with it, with no one around to poke their noses into my business. However, if it would only signify that independence is a package with great fun and a much greater responsibility but with no (one to) care and concern? It really makes me wonder if I would want to one of such package (can’t speculate more).

Room and office – are the two worlds I divide my time in between, these days. Life has become primitive, zero socialising, to work, to eat and to sleep. Perhaps the primitive man had more recreation in his life, rather than just doing one of these three above mention primeval tasks. But there are ways in which one could keep oneself occupied, well I have tried and am still in the process of trying some of them, but only under the condition that if time permits you. But some times loneliness haunts our lives beyond the fact of time being available and unavailable; it is around even if you are busy, at those unavoidable moments of life.

Life really changed after my arrival in Germany. It was indeed a learning experience, irrespective of academics. Independence and Loneliness (they are bi ovular non identical twins, a strange pair of Siamese Twins because one comes with another) have taught me lessons for life, but at what cost one learns these lessons, would be another question; because experience and hurt are not the only prices one pays for such lessons.

Friendship could be a good substitute, but… there is a bigger “BUT” (no excuses for perverts, I say!!!) to it. Friendship, one experiences, living abroad is a little different from what it is back home. It gives more, expects more and demands more. It is some times so difficult to draw a line, be what ever the issue. It is worse when one isn’t matured enough it play it right, one might end up burning his fingers in the process of making friends.

However, a lot of us manage to put up with loneliness, each of us in our own different ways, in our own capacity to fight it. Movies, Music, Painting, Cooking, Jogging, Chatting , Surfing, not to forget Orkutting off late, etc etc…..some times we even resort to Studying and Working, to kill the time, one is forced to do strange things, right?

In spite of all this, eyes still wells up when you witness a family in public place, or a family celebration or some times even something as common as a mom and a daughter having a conversation, and loads of other things that reminds you of home and loved ones back home. There have been times when I have regretted the arrival of weekends, belittled it. Not knowing what to do for two days.... Those unwished birthdays, ungathered parties, abandoned festivities, lonesome dinners when you complained to cook because you had no company, those contemplations you ended up having due to loss of a friend, those depression which were a product of such contemplations, those languid strolls that you took through the deserted streets of Germany (for that matter anywhere outside home), those forsaken dark winter nights that looms at you like ghosts, those desolate evenings you sat expecting your phone to ring, days when family or a friend made your day just because they called you, those detached days when nostalgia took you over leaving your eyes misty, and the days you imagined yourself as the solitary reaper (in the words of Wordsworth) working in the field all by yourself, and all the other weird things you did to win the battle. Alas, the decision was ours and so were the deeds which followed our decisions, so, we are their only fruit bearers and we have to see the Loneliness through. We have very little choice but to live and grow up with it. One can learn a world and forget the least with it. So, what did your Loneliness teach you (today)?????

Munich Vijayam !!!

2006-11-03T21:56:00.004+05:30

Fore word

This narration is purely non fictitious, based on a real life incident (in the capacity of how I have lived it), and it is absolutely written form my perspective, my judgements and about my own feelings, so there is nothing right or wrong about it, in a word it is an opinion in my prerogative to express, with no intentions of hurting or pleasing anyone. This is truth as seen form Vani’s eyes. If any one has a difference in opinion, well go ahead and have one, every one deserves to have an opinion, isn’t it. If I have hurt any one, of course unintentionally, through these expressions, I thoroughly regret for my words. One might find words borrowed from other languages like Tamil, Hindi and German, not due to the insufficiency of words in English, but just to retain the authenticity of thoughts and expressions. Hope you have fun reading through as much I have enjoyed typing it.

The IDEÁ

Some fine day mmm…around the second week of September, my mobile screamed with Sundars’ name on its face, nothing important...we were just discussing trivialities as usual and he just prompted if it would be good idea to got to October fest in the third week of September, he asked me to talk with Paul and let him know, if both of us have the time for such a trip. Actually, Paul and me had already discussed this issue some time ago but I wasn’t even remotely interested…for various reasons though, not for the lack of interest but also for the lack of funds at that part of time….

But then….no plan could be made and disposed in style as Sundar does it I believe. So with Sundar on the drivers seat one could never put down or runaway from an offer, especially if he is initiating it…And as the saying goes, one thing leads to another…

The PLAN

After continuous summoning and due to severe lack of time, Mr.Sundaravelu Chengalvarayan Mitarbeiter of Nokia Groups, asked me to do the planning, since we were expecting to be a group of five, initially, we thought that taking a mitfahrer would be the best thing to do, when I mean best I mean grossly on monetary basis…soft on purse…well, comfort isn’t a student thing isn’t it?. It is only economy that matters.

Since we were hunting for mitfahrer at the eleventh hour, it was seemingly impossible to find one, especially when we had “specifications”, yes we were looking for mitfahrer for three of us form Bremen or any where around.

Here I would want to introduce one famous personality, it is “namma DUDE alias Sam” avargal, doing masters in bio technology in a university in Bremen, yet another very sweet Tamil gal, (well here when I said “yet another ” one might wonder who is the first one, well no doubt, myself he he). Got introduced to her through namma Sridhar avargal (anbudan: Mr. Thirunelveli, Mohan etc. etc….)

We made calls after calls just hoping to catch hold of one mitfahrer, disproving my Student-Economy hypothesis. We thought and thought but still the wonder grew how such a small problem could carry all that we didn’t know (if this sentence made any sense, courtesy John Milton). Alas, we had reached the point where we had just exhausted our mitfahrer list we had, but in the process of working together from various cities of Germany (Dortmund, Köln, Emden also Bremen), over the phone (technology has improved very much), it struck to us that if we travelling in a group of five Deutsche bahn could be the best and the cheapest option, so we came with the idea that it is only 4 state group tickets that it would take for a group of 5 Desis (for the sake of economy) to reach “Munich Maanagaram”.

Now that we knew how to leave, it was up to our comforts to decide when to leave, the fact that we studied in various universities left us with diverse schedules (really doesn’t help when one is planning “together”), and each one of us were occupied with different issues, of course me and Paul being exceptions (some people are “vetti” you know, well this is a versatile Tamil word meaning “inert” or “jobless” or “idle”, well versatile that it is, it could mean a lot of things depending upon the context). So, namma Dude had some lectures, appointments, lab engagements and so we had palnned to leave to Köln on the 21st of September which was a Thursday from around 12.40 from Emden Bhanhof, and Dude was suppose to reach Emden around this time, so we took a NRW group state ticket and left for Köln.

Thirunelveli also had some appointment with his professor around 4 o clock in the evening, which left us with only some 8 to 9 hours to travel for that day with the state tickets, and this meant that if we would start that late from Köln that evening after 4 o clock we would have to break our journey some where in Hessen in the middle of the same night, half way through Hessen, and this also meant that we would have to take another Hessen ticket to continue the journey next day i.e., the Friday and the state ticket on the weekdays are only valid after 9 o clock….(if one doesn’t understand what last few sentences mean: ) this means a lot of confusion and trouble for people involved in planning.

20th September

Since, Sundar had a really tight schedule on the 19th and 20th, he really couldn’t take time off to look for the connections in the bahn. I spent my whole day at my school, with Sundar giving instructions, in front of the internet hunting for plans form DB that would fit all the above mentioned….and almost impossible specifications, then we concluded that it is almost impossible with so many commitments to leave to Munich on Thursday, cause even if we attempted to, it only seemed that it will be resource consuming….

So, we (Sundar and the rest of the team), concluded that the three of us (Dude, Paul and me) from Niedersachsen would reach Köln on the 21st to join Sundar and Sridhar; and then on the following day all of us would take train to Munich.

The MISSION
KÖLN Vijayam

I had got up in the morning; I had already made preparations for some food to munch on the way to Köln from Lidl the previous day. It was a bright day, quiet warm and pleasant, we were waiting for dude in Emden Hbf, around 12.30, it was the first time I was going to meet her, and there she arrived all perplexed, in Emden, wondering how we would achieve the mission. Initial exchanges of hallo and a small warm hug and then our next train to Münster was waiting in platform one in Emden…and then so we ran to the next train and Paul joined us a few minutes later in the train. So we were off to Münster, from where we had to take another RE to Dortmund to meet Sundar and since we had the whole day with us we planned that we would see Wuppertal, while Sridhar was busy with his appointment with his professor.

On the way to Münster dude and Paul had serious discussions about the German economy and tax, making comparison how the Indian counterpart is performing in the same fields. Dude had serious allegations against Germany’s Tax rules. They discussed, oh may be discussed is too light a word for all the efforts they made, not that economy or tax was one of their primary interest , neither of them were Economist nor Taxmongers; it seemed as if they weren’t obsessed with the conversation qua conversation, but instead like they were grappling with the critical issues of the day, but only the fact that they had nothing else to chew, and anyways what could two strangers who had met just hours ago argue about…., mundane topics of day to day life or any thing that spontaneously pops up during that particular moment may be, and I guess that’s what they were doing!! I tried to venture, initially into their argument but very soon kind of lost interest and rather became a passive participant….just listening to their conversations as my thoughts drifted me slowly into other big and small contemplations.

We changed in Münster, with Sundar messaging us every now and then according to the train travel plan. He had his own system of messaging like some kind of code, one missed call would mean one thing and two missed calls would mean another, had he been born some centuries ago he would have had a coding technique named behind him, for sure. Like Morse’s Code or Hammurabi’s Code there would have also been a Sundar’s Code, esoteric indeed, decipherable only by a privileged few. People, not to be surprised if one such code is on the way.

After a couple of “Umsteigen” (as the Germans call it), we reached Dortmund through Essen. Not to forget, since it was Ganesh Chathurthi on that day, we got to see quiet some Desi crowd in the Essen Bahnhof, all dressed up for some Procession due on that day. Could anyone wonder how eventful can an event (such as our trip) could get, well in Essen I received a “interview call” from,…guess from where….in München, it was an internship offer, the Boss said that we could meet up on Saturday over a Coffee (An Interview over a Coffee uhm (sigh), call it a “Date” I say, P.S: Depending if the Boss is good looking or not, lolz) wherein we could discuss further; strange coincidence, destiny, karma, whatever one calls it. Reached Dortmund around 16 o clock (also as Germans say it), had to wait for sundar for a couple of minutes and then as soon as he arrived had to run for the next train to Wuppertal, cause there was only one connection every hour.

Wuppertal, as the name suggests is a valley-city, vested with idyllic landscape and romantic views, one could feel something poetic about the city as one travels through the Schwebe Bahn (hold it people it only means a hanging winch) which connects the whole city; running through river, bisecting the view on the either side through the windows in the winch. What could be confusing is which side to concentrate and which one to leave, all directions being a fairy tale picture. A trip in the hanging winch and some photo sessions in the place of halt was all that we managed to accomplish, as night started falling we planned to leave to Köln, to meet Appointment-Sridhar (yeppa paarthaalum thesis, appointment nu asingama*!!!)

We were in Köln almost around 8 o clock in the evening, the Dome loomed at us as walked out of Köln’s Bahnhof (which is apparently claimed to be the most beautiful bahnhof in Germany at the mercy of the Dome), we sat in the flight of stairs in front of the dome, once again capturing the moments with our cameras, (bless this machine and the man who invented it - God bless the camera and its inventor and every one else in this world), Sridhar breezed himself into the group and joined us for a small photo session. Then we left to Sridhar’s room, as Sridhar narrated of his commitments the day after, yes Mr. Thirunelvei had another appointment the following day around 8 o clock, and our plan was that we would leave around 9.10 from Köln to Siegen, but he suggested that we should leave to Bahnhof on time and that he would finish the meeting and join us at the Bahnhof, on time (andha “on time” uh note pannungappa*)!!!! Well what happened the following day was history….

At Sridhar’s place, that night, Sundar made some yummy food, chicken curry with rice as dude and Paul talked over a wine, a fabulous conversation which rendered us difficult to eat, a lot of wine over the food spells “fun” isn’t it…so much of laughter that we had to give up eating. After the dinner we went over for a small stroll in the streets of Köln, as Dude beckoned the fellows for a “perfume”, and manifested that “A perfume bottle” is what would make an ideal gift on her birthday. Then we returned home, called it a day!

The Day
It was the 22nd, the day – our trysts with destiny (well people, if you are looking for an example sentence for an exaggeration you can re-borrow this already-borrowed expression)!!! I was the first one to wake up, had no options....girl syndrome, girls need time; and then dude followed and then of course boys, then had to run for the bus, some how managed on time then an U-bhan, then we hit the Bahnhof, we made it on time for the train at 9.10 to Siegen but Mr. Thirunelveli was not there yet!!!

Well well, Sridhar did arrive but only some 50 minutes too early for the same train one hour later. So this meant change of plans and all the time spent the previous day for the plan was in vain, and unfortunately this time we were at the mercy of the ticket automat and Deutsche Bahn information centre, there was a long queue, we waited and our turn came, we had to make sure that our next connections also required only 3 state tickets but hell with the people working in DB, only discovered that the local geography of the DB staffs sucked, they only gave us wrong information, we had barely 40minutes for the next train, tension was rising, we had a lot to think about, meanwhile Paul and Dude, who had no idea of what was going on (so now you know why ignorance is bliss), were busy visiting Kölner Dome again for another shooting session.

Then we decided that we would take the next train to Siegen, no matter how it goes and we should decide the rest of the journey on our way to Siegen. Thus we were digging the ticket machine, but we could only buy the NRW and Bayern State ticket, and on enquiry we found that the state Hessen enjoys a special privilege and its state tickets could be bought only in the train. For all these tamashaas and running around it was almost time for the next train so we hurried to platform and finally boarded the train.

In the train we enquired the Ticket Controller, he assured that this train only travel through the state of Hessen, with a sigh of relief we continued to travel and changed our destination to Gießen which was the final destination of the train. We also the bought the special Hessen state ticket in the train, but, trust me, the ticket didn’t look any special. We changed in Fulda (the Place, Sridhar claimed, his lab-specimens came from) to reach Frankfurt, the train journey from Fulda to Frankfurt was breadth taking, the landscape was awesome, at least for some one who had spent almost the her entire stay in northern Deutschland where the landscape is primarily flat with no hilly features, and to add to the alluring views of the mountains and divulging rivers was the fantastic weather - consummating the picture, well actually pretty hot and sunny for late summer, around 28° C, so it was a beautiful day and a more beautiful view : to see middle Deutschland while swaying to the rhythms of the DB!

We changed in Frankfurt, the city boasts itself of tall buildings, beaming at us like ogres, the amazment being that these ogres get beamed back, owing to their size and the magnificience they manage to generate an awe within us, well after a few moments in this cosmo city we continued our journey towards Wurzburg!!! We were travelling through Bayern, as an excitement ran through my entire self, the fact that I have never travelled this south of Germany, never been beyond Frankfurt. Could sense the aroma of Bavaria in the air….. (“Inhale”) mmmmmmmhhhuuuuu, one could dance to the music in their speech (personal opinion), the heavy “Bavarishce Dialekt”- the German equivalent for (aahn I think one could guess) “Bavarian Dialect”. We were travelling listening to music, talking, and doing various other stuffs (when I mean “stuffs”…..I mean “stuffs”, just wonder how versatile some words could get, if u don’t find the right word just say “stuffs”…so felt enlightened?...ok ok lemme continue)…

We landed in Wurzburg around some time in the evening, all of us were hungry, the fact that none of us had eaten much and were on the move from morning which didn’t leave us with much time to eat, but now we were confronted with the problem of “Time and Distance” (if this reminds of all those math problems you solved under “Time and Distance” chapter when u were in School, then I am sorry…get rid of the nostalgia….), well this time the problem was that we didn’t have much time to take the next connection, because the train in which we arrived Wurzburg arrived late by 15 to 20 minutes, so didn’t have much time to catch the next one. But Sundar- (the Nallavar (the Good), the Vallavar ( the Talented), the Naalum therinjavar (the Omniscient), the seeker of small wisdoms: an eternal question box, even the trivial matters)- said that he would grab some food from the nearby shop in the station and run back as quick as possible and that we should wait for him in the platform for the next connection, some agreed (the ones with Big appetite, names avoided for personal reasons he he ) and some didn’t (the ones with not so big hunger but rather time conscious, may be) and the remaining remained inert (may be were doubtful, they couldn’t speculate I guess).

Now that one is aware of the Problem…thus goes the question: With only some five minutes in hand…how much time will Sundar take to go to the nearest eating place in Wurzburg Station (which we had no idea in that moment how far or how close), if Sundar ran at the speed of……well, as fast as he could and then come back to the same platform to catch the train with us to Treuchtlingen. Brushing up your elementary math eh…however, still difficult to solve isn’t it? (If any one manages to find an answer, then you are a genius, but not as much as Sundar of course).

The answer to the above question is that:
Solution: Sundar would arrive one minute too late for the train, just to see the train leave right in front of his eyes (of course with some food in his hands, well this is totally irrelevant to the current situation). You think problem is solved but our Sundar thought otherwise, he looked devastated, cause this means change of plans and he had to inform the people in München also about the change. I couldn’t empathize with Sundar, if we miss one train there will be another, (Train, bus aur ladkiya………har 15 minutes ke baad ek aur aathey hain, agar jyaadha traffic na ho tho*: this is a Dialogue form a Bollywood Movie), for that reason no one could empathize with Sundar I guess, some were hungry some were merely not bothered to be upset. "Sundar juzz cool it man", were the kind of words which one could hear for next few minutes as Sundar sat sullen and sunken in the stairs of the platform. Finally, managed to get him back on track, then we checked out for the next train which was exactly an hour later, so we could use this time for hogging some food, there was no Mc.D close by so we went to have a Döner in the nearby Döner place, from where we could see one BIG office of E.ON, the company which finally accepted me, the one which got deceived okee okee these stories in some other blog….

Sundar didn’t want a Döner, so we said we would walk to the nearest Mc.D, but the NALLAVAR said that we could eat Döner so that we don’t get too far away from the station. And some how 45 minutes elapsed, munching, drinking and giggling away, we barely had 15 minutes, when the NALLAVAR (the GURU of Reverse Psychology: he always says yes to know and no to yes, the Saathapan: “Saathu!!! Saathu*!!!”, the Solo King : “Yenna oru solo yeden*”, the Plan maker : “This is the print out for that plan”), out of nowhere, wanted to go Mc.D, when there was hardly any time to run up till Mc.D, but we only had to say : FORGET IT!!!! SO he hogged on the half left Döner from Sridhar….reluctant to remain silent, but he had no choice, I guess.

After the gastronomical refuelling, the bunch of people felt revitalised, which was obvious form the obstreperous evening which ensued. The group of five became extremely noisy and full of life as it reached Treuchtlingen, partly because of food and partly because of the fact that we were getting closer to our destination. So noisy that we could have been alleged for being a public nuisance, cause we were blaring at the top our voices, as though wanting to bring the roof down. The noisy team reached Treuctlingen, and this was our last “Umsteigen”/ “Change”, so the famous five boarded their final train towards their destination, as excitement began to bank in each of us, we sang, we played, we spoke, we teased, we laughed , we made noise, in a nut shell we had “fun” – cherishing moments I would say………all our way to München, we even played Dumb charades, and our Sundar gave a live demo to what could be called a “Kummi”- a traditional folk dance of Tamil Nadu, actually an attempt to explain one of Sam’s numerous questions or rather doubts in Tamil language (these many questions she had, I presume, were primarily a result of ignorance more than interest!!!). Oh my god, one needs one million eyes to witness a performance of this calibre; am happy that I was among the fortunate few, it was such a treat, WoooooW. People, applause to our Vallavar- Sundar!!!!!

Javed called us as we were arriving in München, informing that they will be in the München Hbf on time, and as we landed could already witness glimpses of the merry making for the Oktoberfest, as men and women were dressed in their traditional costumes mostly partially and totally drunk. The most awaited moment came, we had landed- the group had set their foot in the city of Munich, cleansing the city of its sins (actually we needed some cleansing ourselves after travelling the whole day, before we could cleanse the city), but honestly, it seemed that the city only got a little more dirty on our arrival he he he...

It wasn’t really difficult for the five tired Desis to spot the three (not so tired Desis) waiting for us in the Bahnhof. In the Bahnhof was Javed - the Tamilar thalaivar*, Raji also another Tamil Gal, last but no ways the least our “Sandheep Mon” form Kottayaam –the Kottayam Express, the seeker of bigger knowledge, the epitome of substance, the exemplar of PhD (I really wonder if I will be ever forgiven on my dooms day for lies of such merit). After the initial exchange of hallos and handshakes, we were left to decide what we would do next, to go around or to eat (at Javed’s place), mans primitive instincts (for the search of food) won again, so Javed’s Room was “the destination-next”.

Never had an idea that Javed was such a culinary expert, untill his chicken curry hit our taste buds (well, am sure, the group who hogged would agree with me!!), some palatable food, and then we sat for a small round of talk; the group of five strangers now a group of eight strangers. Well, what is interesting is the behaviour of a group of strangers, it could be a topic of research for a Psychology student, not all of us were strangers to each other but most of us were strangers to each other. We spoke things together for a few minutes then we would laugh and then there would be a dead silence for few minutes in between these laughters and discussions with each of us staring at each other, wondering how and who would start the next conversation. Our Sandeep Mon spoke most of the time, at some places succeeded to express and at some places failed to impress, then our sundar also spoke, all of us took our turns to talk, but most of our jokes were aimed at Sam (poor gal but she managed- she is verbally talented as well), and our Paul seemed not so interested in the conversation, took rather interest in a toy lying around and went about fixing it, totally indifferent to the conversations. I forgot to mention something, Sridhar got baptized for a second time, courtesy Javed (Proving, on regular basis, that he is a Thalaivar), Sridhar was called Mohan, for some reason Javed presumed thats how Sridhar was called (well, I personally think Mohan also sounds good….or may be too good for Sridhar…lol)…

Then we all decided to wind up for the day, Sundar and Sridhar stayed at Javed’s Place, Dude and me were to sleep at Raji’s place, and Paul at Sandheep’s Place. As soon as we got to Raji’s Place we showered (of course seperately), little later I had a chance to taste a Bavarian dessert (courtesy Raji’s neighbour) then the three girls went to sleep.

The following day we had breakfast at Sandeep’s place, he had the patience and the virtue of making us break fast (Long live Sandeep!!!), then we left to join Javed and the rest of the crowd in the city. The plan was to see some city in the morning and then to go to the fest in the evening. So we sent sight seeing, around the city, at the mercy of Sandheep-the-guide, who enlightened us about the histories and the geographies and the things in between. We started by taking few pictures, around the city then we went for a small coffee in the morning, but I had to trouble Raji, cause I needed some help, then we just saw through that everything was fine….

Then we did some “Stadtrundfahren / travelling around the city”, we saw a palace of the king of Munich (well its all history now), then we went to Englischer Garten, a huge piece of garden in the middle of the city, so much of green in the heart of a city buzzing with commercial activities. Englischer Garten reminded me a lot of Emden’s Forest and loads of other memories that goes along with it, what was interesting was there was a river flowing through, have no idea how it is called, and the currents were swift at the beginning of a bridge, and there were some men surfing in the current, smszing I thought, while Sandheep was busy narrating the myths and legends of the place.

From Englischer Garten we went further into the city, into the “Stadt”- the City Centre, loads of crowd, there was festive mood in the air, as we walked through the streets of München, capturing memories into our senses. The Rathhaus- the Town hall (our Desi Counterpart could be The Rippon Building in Chennai, I don’t know how the town halls are called elsewhere in India) of München was FANTSTIC, its architecture, it size, its shape etc…were amazing, the pink flowers on it were looking like bouquets presented to the happy statues which lined the building. It was a beautiful sight, adding fun was the roaring crowd. Well, what could be more exciting for an Indian, living away from home who had grown up with crowd around him his entire life. Not to forget the three lucky lions in the city, if one makes a wish and touch there mouths (I guess, rather, as far as I remember) it is supposed to become true, ehm…. I didn’t make any particular wishes, but some in the group did; it is not the difference between belief and non belief but the difference between being interested and not being interested. One more thing there were loads of lions around the city, call it a pride, but of fake ones of course….statue, effigies, balloons etc….so many of them that if only München had been discovered by an Indian Maharaja few centuries ago, looking like this, he would have called the city Singapore II*.

Then we had a small (it could be called lunch) lunch at the McDonalds, which was crowded as usual, where I still remember the “say please” incident, I subjected Sandheep to , almost taking him on his nerves. Later we went to visit the Olympiad Park, another breath taking architecture but this time, a modern architecture.

Then we sat at a place beside the Olympiad Park, as the day got a little hotter, arguing where we should go next, every one had a plan of their own. Then it was decided that all of us go to the Bier fest, straight away.

On our way to the bier fest, sundar was narrating jokes from movies which failed to invoke laughter, a littel later when we boarded the bahn there was a small, misunderstanding kind of tiff, between Dude and Sandeep. I think one such thing is bound to happen between two people, if the group is a one with varying personalities, which we were, and with different temperaments.

There we were, in the bier fest….going around the place, reminded me of the Local trade fare in Chennai, but of course with too many obvious differences (this goes without saying), the European crowd all dressed up in traditionally attires and of course the beer tents spilling barrels and barrels of beer, and the mob waiting outside in queues to get into one of these tents. This doesn’t mean that there weren’t any Indian crowd there; there were loads of them, most of them presumably students like us or families who had settled here but could also spot few Indians who had flown from various other parts of the world for the fest. As a part of the festivities were also the traditional merry-go-rounds, and giant wheels and also modern roller coasters and water games, not to forget the variety of eat outs, selling a form of brötchen- suppose to be a speciality of the Oktober fest, well I don’t know how it is called…and also selling other forms of eatables.

We tried to cruise into one of those tents; but could manage to, so a little disappointed, Javed, Raji, Sandeep, Dude and me went for a ride on one of those roller coasters, cost us full 6 euros, some adrenaline pumping - but it was too small a ride for a miniscule of adrenaline. Having found that an entry into one of those tents was beyond possibility we left to find some other place to have a beer, it was a nice open Beer Garden, with music being played all of us had a beer, for the heck of it, and spoke and discussed and argued and talked…. (I think you got what I am trying to say)……

Then we went back to our respective sleeping places, like the day before, and slept quick, we were tired of course, or at least I was and also the alcohol had an effect I think (mm though mine was a non alcoholic beer), we had to sleep because, we had to get up early in the morning to travel from the south to the north of Germany, ya the time had for München was over. So we got up as early as 4 o clock in the morning and left München bidding goodbye too the entire lovable team in München, Long live Münchenvaasis….

We returned in a different route with a Wochenende Ticket, all were tired, some due to travelling , some due less sleep, some due to more alcohol, and some due to various other reasons, we travelled through Kassel in a bus on our way back, there was a small Inscription on one of there Zug which read from the famous Folk lore of Raponzel, our Dude almost revered that the story took place in that town, mmm well it could be, who knows…or at least I did not , nevertheless Dude was sure.

Hmm, nothing more important on our way back, except the fatigue, The two Gentlemen from NRW accompanied us till Rheine, so that they could use the same ticket back to Dortmund and Köln and we proceeded to our Places with our semester tickets from Rheine. We reached home around late 8 in the evening, Dude broke at my place to leave early in the morning the next day, and I took the chance to cook them a really HOT supper that night that neither of us will forget. So ladies and gentlemen this was “our fun trip” to Munich leaving loads of cherishable memories inside our skulls, thanks to all those souls who made this event possible. People, We ROCKED!!!

P.S:

Namma = (Tamil) Our
Avargal = (Tamil) it is a suffix used after names to express Respect. (But here used to express Sarcasm! : p)
Vijayam = (Tamil) Arrival
Anbudan = (Tamil) With Love!
Thirunelveli = name of a District in Tamil Nadu in India, but apparently also Second name of Sridhar, therefore Sridhar = Thirunelveli = Mohan = etc etc …….
Dude = Sam = Samantha
Maanagaram = (Tamil) A Big City
Yeppa paarthaalum thesis appointment nu asingama = Always busy with thesis and appointments, sick! (Tamil)
Andha “on time” uh note pannungappa = please note that “on time” (Tamil)
“Saathu!!! Saathu” = the coolest way of telling SHUT UP (Tamil)
“Yenna oru solo yeden” = Please take a picture of mine (Tamil)
Tamilar Thalaivar =Leader of the Tamil Community
Münchenvaasis = the People of München (Tamil)
Ganesh Chathurthi = A Hindu Festival, towards Lord Ganesh.
Tamaashas = Madness, confusion, fun (Hindi)
Desi = An individual or any thing or style belonging to the subcontinent (Hindi),
Train, bus aur ladkiya………har 15 minutes ke baad ek aur aathey hain, agar jyaadha traffic na ho tho = Train, bus and girls will come again once every 15 minutes, but only if there are no traffic jams. (Hindi)
Singapore II = centuries ago when Raja Raja - the king form the Chola Dynasty Discovered Singapore (the group of Java and Sumatra Islands), he named it Singapore because he saws prides of Lions walking the land, “Singam” being Lions in Tamil.

Köln = Cologne, a city in Germany
Deutschland = Germany
München = Munich
Umsteigen = to change during travel (D)
Bahnhof = Railway station (D)
Hbf = Hauptbhanhof = Central Railway Station (D)
Bahn = Zug = Train (D)
U-Bhan = Underground train (D)
DB = Deutschebahn = the German Railway (D)
Wochenende= Week end