Fresh Pasta, Genoa sauce, Gucci & Milano: I am gonna miss you, for sure!

Lazyweekends, hushed up weekday mornings, bright sunny afternoons, long endless days, heavy workloads with unwinding walks in the Piazza. The Italian trip was quite a mix of emotions for me. An interesting cultural experience.. so much like India and quite unlike like India!
There will be things I will miss. Those lazy weekend mornings for instance and a walk to the neighbourhood Pasticcerria to buy fresh pasta and geneoa sauce. The Italian food is perfect for Indian taste buds. But not quite the strong cappuccino. So between those long work hours, every time I would miss the Indian tea and long to have a sip of the same, I would ask the local café guy to serve dark masala tea with scuma milk(creamed milk). The unwitting look on his face told explicitly, there was something definitely un-Italian that I was doing in the heart of Italy! And that’s Italian frankness, a clear heart! If they don’t like you, they let you know. But some people do like you. The vegans for instance. My vegan friend who was so much in love with everything Indian, specially the Indian spicy food, that is ideal for an Italian taste bud. And our long cultural exchanges learning to cook each other’s meals. It was fun!
The Christmas eve had a special aura. Meeting perfect strangers on such a special evening touched my soul with a sense of déjà-vu. I must have known them in some life. Such a special evening is for ones you know, not ones you have never known.
This year, thanks to looming crisis and austerity measures is one of the most difficult that the world’s seventh largest economy has seen in recent times. It was sad to see the sinking spirits on the X-mas evening and my ears longed to hear the usual Buono Natale e Nuova Anne! that one is used to hearing in this special time of the year in all shops across Rome, Venice, Bologna, Florence. But the sinking spirits haven’t dampened a bit of the Italians. The magnificent red in the windows, the glittering swarosky’s, the guccis and the well-lit shops on the high end streets of Milano, Italy will for a long time be place for vita qui e bella! N am gonna miss it for sure!

The Indian (I)nglishh! Eer!

Italian MTV on a warm sunny Sunday siesta springed me with a surprise! There was a group of Italian guys, joie de vivre as they are, on a visit to India. Quite amusing to see my country from a foreign lens. It got me interested.

In Europe, Italians in a sense are the closest to Indians, culturally speaking. Yet, there are diversities. But of course, differences meant to be celebrated, so said Stephen Covey. So I started watching the programme.

Understanding and having lived in and deeply in love with both the countries, I could well appreciate the humour and take on the Indian culture! So like the Italian man who went to Malta, there is this humour in how we Indians speak English.

Water is not a slight touch on the tongue like W-A-T-E-R for an Englishman(or woman). It is like V-A-T-U-R-R-r-r!!!!!! And so is ‘hello, how are you?’ .. Its like ‘H-H-H-A-L-U-U hoooowww arrre yoooou?’. Absolutely no problem, after all these are benevolent Indian contributions to English phonetics!!

I am reminded of a humourist, who once wittingly impersonated his Indian counterpart immigrant at the British check-in counter giving a small interview for Border check. When confronted with the situation to introduce himself in his beloved English language, he confidently described his Indian background and reasons to visit England in English. The immigration officer, unable to understand, requested him to repeat and then re-repeat in English. This went on for about 5-6 times. Exasperated, the Englishman suggested, ‘Gentleman, Can you p-l-e-a-s-e, speak in English.’

Astonished, my countryman, replied to the Englishman, ‘S-S-I-Rrrrrr ji, I do NAT now, wat languaage you arrrre taulkingh in, bbuuuttt I speaaakkk ONNNNLYYYY E-N-G-G-G-LISSSSHhhhhh!’

A Spiritual Life... Kabhi khushi kabhi ghum

Life is beautiful not coz its easy but coz its so very much full of challenges... sometimes I wonder how life must be without challenges... People are said to be born with a silver spoon.. but mine was a challenging spoon... So challenging that pretty much difficult to bring it to the mouth!... Dont ask what context I write in... but believe me that’s the sentiment that we all have at some point of time in lives. And these moments can be really beautiful. The moment we accept life as it is... full of challenges, difficulties... it becomes so much beautiful... sometimes pain, sometimes pleasure, for that’s life. And that’s spiritual too. In Bhagvad Gita, 6th chapter, 31st shloka, the Divine says :

sarva-bhuta-sthitam yo mam
bhajaty ekatvam asthitah
sarvatha vartamano 'pi
sa yogi mayi vartate


The shloka has the following important elements:
1. The one who takes shelter in the Divine, that Ultimate Supreme, with all the thoughts, feelings and absolute single mindedness
2. See the Divine and look and respect at the Divine residing inside each one of the creations of the Divine
Such a person is referred to as a Yogi.
Such a living entity has perfected the science of uniting the individual Consciousness with the Divine & Ultimate Consciousness
And No matter what kind of circumstances does he live in, the good, the bad, the happy, the unhappy, he forever resides in the Divine at all times.
So simple is the key to this mysterious life. Kabhi khushi, kabhi gum!

Diwali... the festival of lights, love and spirituality

Long after you have left home, long after you have gone too far, long after you missed some people on the way, you realize how much you have lost. Those little joys of life. Those festival of lights, those moments of colours.

To be with someone, you lose someone. To be someone, you lose to be someone. But this would perhaps be a constricted way of seeing things. On a more cosmic level, everything belongs to the Divine and every creation of His, reflects Him. And that is the beauty of Universe. A reflection of the divinity in everything: light and dark, colours and their somber shades, spicy and sugary, heavy and light, big and small, away but not so far. Diwali the festival of lights signifies this spiritual aspect of existence.

Legends galore why the festival is reveringly celebrated all over India and perhaps the world. But the most beloved is the one that refers to Lord Rama’s return from exile after fourteen years. Lord Rama, is referred to as the ‘Maryada Purshottam’ in the Vedas. ‘Maryada Purshottam’ a Sanskrit word, when translated literally means, the highest and the best amongst all human beings. That is He signifies the best of human qualities, closest to the Divine.

In Hindu spirituality, there is a strong faith in re-birth and incarnation. It is believed that one of the reasons that Lord incarnates from time to time is to show love and come as a close relationship to those who loved and prayed the Lord in their last lives and wanted to have Him as their child, spouse or parent. The other important reason, Lord incarnates, is to destroy the demons and bring peace to the world. And finally to set an example for the world, as to how the best and ideal men & women should behave.

Lord Rama as ‘maryada purshottam’ as the ideal human set an example for the humans to act with serenity in the most difficult of circumstances, to fight the evil and to love everyone. It is said that Lord Rama was so much loved and revered by the people all over Bharat(as India was referred to then), that when their beloved Rama came back from exile, after fourteen years, people lighted their homes with ‘diyas’(kind of candles burnt with ghee, a type of Indian butter made from cow milk) and celebrated sweets.

Thousands of years may have passed away since then, but the spirit remains. The fragrance of this festival lingers on, the light lightens our spirits and reminds of those waiting somewhere for us. And in my heart, brings a promise to my parents, that next year there really will be a Diwali at home…. Till then, just a promise .. na juda honge hum, kabhi khushi, kabhi gham….

Till then, lets try spread the infectious spirit of love, life and spirituality wherever we are, wherever we go. Live a little bit of spirituality wherever we are, see that Divine residing inside each one of us that makes us a little more good, a little less bad!! … Happy Diwali!

Of babies, economics, flowers & Moksha!

My friend loves babies. Nothing special. We all do. Specially the women. But having them and that too one after another is quite a ball game. So when my special friend had her third baby, I called her congratulating on the occasion & teasingly I demanded, so when do you plan to have the next. Benignly caressing through the modest tresses & the diminutive features of her new born angel, absorbed in the ecstasy of motherhood, she replied, possibly in 2015. Wow!! Pulling her leg, I asked her, isn’t there something like the law of Diminishing Marginal Utility in Economics. Simply speaking, for those divorced from the bizarre world of economics, it means that for each additional unit of a given thing I have, the value added for every subsequent unit that I can have, falls proportionately. Serene & smiling she replied, ‘children are like flowers, the more you want, the more you want to have them’. From my friend's lens, for the geeky economist, they disobey all the laws of classical economics!

So what is it about being a mother that makes it so exceptional. Perhaps its the mother inside a woman’s heart that makes her so feminine, so mother-like. After all how can you not love them? As someone once famously said, ‘a woman is one who shows man, what love, care and share is all about.’ Being a mother is one of the most special and divine ways to express this selfless form of love. It is an expression of giving. Helping this new born grow up, becoming a part of the world. 'Osho' believed that one of best ways to have a lifelong loving relationship between spouses is to love them like a baby. That doesn’t quite mean acting like a mummy. But there is an abstract element of that feminity that he referred to. The element is one of ‘selflesslessness’.

In the Yogic philosophy too, it is said that ‘ahankar’ is the root of existence. Difficult to translate exactly in English, literally speaking it means ‘ego’. The surrender of this ego and absolute selfless love for the Divine, for all His creations is Spirituality, the path to Moksha. Yoga is that first step towards selflessness. In the more earthly sense, perhaps its motherhood. Imagine there is this sweet little creation, who you almost sense as an extension of your own and then you give away all that you have to this little one. This for sure is the way to selflessness. Would children, ethereally speaking, be the road to moksha then?

Till we experience, between us!

La vita è bella

Three days in Italy and the same sense of déjà vu as thirty years in India. There is more than an ‘I’ in common between Italy & India.
Celebrated as a gazetted holiday, 4th October in Bologna marks the day of Saint Petronio, the patron saint of Bologna. Infact, every city in Italy have had a patron saint. So I thought, it was going to be a long lazy afternoon. But the warm Italians had something more in store for me. So when a ‘joie de vivre’ elderly couple invited me to lunch, I could not resist, but to consent.
Walking through the historical boulevards, neatly carved narrow meandering lanes of Bologna, I finally reached the home of my hosts. It was more then just a lunch. A cozily set-up traditional home, a peep into the conventional habitat was far more enriching then spending an afternoon. It was an ethnic encounter. Where else could I expect a perfectly alien couple to give me all their afternoon, prepare a special ‘vegetarian’ lunch for a stranger, someone they had never seen, never known before. Serving me the pasta, they told, it was not a simple, any other italian cuisine. It was a purgatoire. Enjoying my stay in the land of Dante, the creator of Divine Comedy, I could sense the food eaten somewhere between hell and heaven.
Cracking endless jokes on cultural encounters or (mis)encounters, I could sense a thread of similarity that runs between the two cultures. Specially our love for English and the brazen abuse of the dialect. Be it the ‘Italian man who went to Malta’ or the ‘Indian who goes to England’, our English encounters are devastatingly humorous.
Emotionally speaking particularly moving, was the passion with which they gave me a virtual tour through the historical lanes of Bologna. Armed with an old book, containing very old maps of the city, the world’s oldest running university, my hosts took me through the constricted city in time and in space. And in one afternoon, I traveled through the lifetime of this historic place. I left the home with a feeling that I had seen all that was to be seen in Bologna. And I saw from the eyes of a couple who lived the city and loved it. I felt connected. I was touched. I saw more then I could ever see as a tourist, more then I could ever experience as an artist. It brought back a sense of déjà vu. A feeling long lost since I left home. The pleasant & kind couple reminded me of my parents back home. Just the way they would invite every stranger to eat with them, stay with them. There, it seemed, was a place somewhere else, under the sun, where they believed in athithi devobhav, that is the guests are symbolic representations of the Divine.
There was more warmth to the culture then just the shinning sun. Perhaps the affection emanating from the heart, that creates an ambiance of nostalgia & pleasantness in this sunny country.

Eat, Love & Pray

It was the best of times. An early morning drive to Paris. Long endless highways. Unceasing green spaces enclosing the never ending roads. Early morning sun, kissing goodbye to the crescent half sleepy lunatic moon. The warm rising sun coloring the azure blue, mystic dark sky with her sanguine orange & red. Dreamy is an understatement.

There was just one wish. If the three hour drive could last forever. Stopping mid-way at a highway café, smelling the growing lavenders in the nearby fields, munching croissant and drinking green tea, I could sense the beginning of a beautiful long weekend. It wasn’t the first time we were in Paris. But there is something about the place that having seen it all, done it all, one wants to see it again, be there again. Is it the brand Paris, the excellent PR or the immaculate harmonious architecture or the high fashion street of Champs-Élysées, Paris is fascinating for the traveler, the lover, the seeker, the shopper and the fashionable alike.

We began our day with a long aimless walk at Champs-Élysées. Seeing the long impatient crowd eagerly waiting to get inside the Louis Vuitton, it almost felt that it was not a luxury but a necessity store. Further, down the street, trying and sitting in new concept car of the future at the Toyota showroom, I felt it was the embrace of a robot, not the touch of a car. Cute! Mignon!! as the Parisians call it.

Exorbitantly expensive, unaffordably high rentals going up to Euro 8,500 per meter square, Champs-Élysées is nonetheless, the must-present place for Luxury, cosmetic, perfume & premium brands. Window shopping through the lush & luxurious stores, we reached the Arc de Triomphe, the unceasingly burning flame, dedicated to the known, unknown spirits of martyrs. Thousands of hearts, seated besides the flame, expressed their undying flame of love for their someone special in this beautiful set-up of Champs-Élysées sandwiched between the Arc de Triomphe and the Place de la Concorde.

Les Bouquinistes selling second class classics, antiques, paintings and CDs are another prominent feature on the scenic banks along the river Seine. A collection of eternal classics by Edith Piaf and Charles Aznavour is simply an irresistible purchase. We too succumbed to our materialistic desires. Reasonably price at around Euro 5/-, the collection of over twenty songs was a good bargain for the evergreen classics.

Having acted in the Hindi adaptations of Molière, my great dream was always to see the play in the ‘langue de Molière’, french. This trip it seems was a time to fulfill my desires. So when we got tickets for Molière’s ‘Le Médecin malgré lui’, I simply refused to sit anywhere but in the first seat in the first row! Being the only ones(& that too non-Francophone) in the front seat, it seemed a little bizarre, but I could not accept anything coming between Molière & me! A take on the French aristocracy of his times, Molière’s play are the classics that the French look-up to this day. Seeing the humour & the satire, it is aptly said that the french is indeed the ‘langue de Molière’.

Passions might take us anywhere. But its difficult to change tastes. So an opportunity to eat good traditional South Indian at Gare du Nord was on top of our itinerary list. Krishna’s vegetable dosa, Sarvanna’s South Indian Thali(& not to forget the dishes I got packed to take away), we savored on the delicious, healthy & sumptuous South Indian platters.

A moment to pray in this life full of adventures, ups & downs is never too much, but never too little either. A moment’s candid prayer, an honest intention, a small charitable act, a beautiful heart is far more spiritual then all the prayers followed by incompatible acts. Prayers have to be not just in words, but in thoughts and action as well. The place does not matter. It could be ‘Le Tour de Eiffel’(Eiffel Tower) or the ‘char dham ki yatra at Gangotri & Yamnotri’, it can be Bethlehem or it could be Mecca Medina, a beautiful prayer from a pure heart reaches the Divine for sure. With that honest & pure thought, we prayed the Divine, holding hands at the Eiffel, thanking Him for all that we have and praying for it everyone. And in bliss or in sorrow, in good or in bad, never to forget to thank the Divine for the beautiful showers of blessing that He forever showers on us.

Inter-Faith Marriages: Made in Heaven, Hell broken on Earth

Marriages are special. A promise to be together for a lifetime. But when they are inter-faith, in an Asian sub-context, they are even more special. Special because they are almost impossible. Fighting against all odds: the nature, the people, the family & often the very judgmental society at large, it is a difficult choice in action. And when they finally get married, they like to believe that the troubles have come to an end. Whereas the problems, might have perhaps begun. Everything from conversion of the unfortunate love struck lady to the children’s religion to management of assets is a difficult question. Grappled with personal difficulties, begins the intervention of the prophetic extended family and in-laws, who like to believe that their religion is the best.

So when two love-lorn, attractive young lovers Payal & Omar decided to marry in 1994, little did they imagine that one day this beautiful relationship that defied against all odds of religion & culture, will eventually end in an ugly divorce.

Whether two people decide to remain married or fall apart, is definitely a private question, not to be governed by the media or public at large. But, alas, not so in the case of an Inter-Faith marriage! And that too of one of the most high-profile family ruling the ethnically cleansed Muslim majority state Kashmir in India. A conservative Muslim majority state ruled by a Muslim leader born of mixed parents(Omar’s mother is a British Christian), Omar’s decision to marry a Hindu girl was never well taken by the conservatives. And when Payal refused to convert, she lost all possible opportunities of any favourable public opinion.

17 years and two sons later, the cracks in the marriage started to surface. Apparently not because of societal pressure, but because of some internal conflicts. Or perhaps an Outsider, an extra-marital. Those unhappy with Payal-Omar alliance, rejoiced on the prospects of Omar’s another marriage to their liking. Those unhappy with Payal’s decision to not to convert, felt it getting even with her.

If it were a normal divorce between two same faith couples, it could have perhaps been like any other divorce. But not so when it is a question of faith. Different faiths when they get together create controversies. But when they fall apart, they create masala for media, gossip for the town and a trailing track of tragedy for the lonely spouse cheated by the world and embittered by the one she loved more then her own self.

Questions of Right to Privacy & Freedom of Life in this charged up atmosphere are wishful thinking at best. A tragedy for the system as a whole.

Inter-Faith marriages that are Divine’s way to bridge the divide between two faiths ends up creating further divides. It is beautiful how people from different religions come together and fall in love. They defy all the existing norms of the society to create a new world order. It is God’s way of showing a way beyond the existing system, closeted people. But when such beautiful dreams fall apart(for whatever reason), it is more then just a divorce. Perhaps that’s why it occupies so much media space, TRP ratings and irresponsible statements.

Time to introspect, when responsibilities on the shoulders of Inter-Faith couple is so high, should they not re-define their relationship and responsibilities? And perhaps also think a little beyond themselves: of the society at large. And the children they make in the process… symbolic of their love.. do they deserve to be poisoned by their spitefulness of separation??.....

Question to learn.....

What is it that we learn in schools? Numbers, alphabets, equations and equilibriums ... But how much of it is relevant when we step into the school of life? Ever wondered, what is this system meant to produce? An unlimited supply of skilled and unskilled labour that can easily fit into the labyrinth of the mundane modern day life. 
Education is meant to enlighten the mind, brighten up spirits. Why do not we learn just for the joy of learning? Why is there this constant pressure on our heads to study to get good grades; to get good grades to get good subjects and to get good subjects to get a well paying career?
Aristotle once said, if I choose the job I love, I will never feel the burden of work in my life. But how many of us have chosen the jobs we loved? Ever thought if am doing that what I really want to do? What's wrong if I like to teach the challenged and not become a doctor, what's wrong if I choose to be a home maker and raise healthy children, rather then working as a well-paid Investment Banker? 
Nothing wrong, except that neither our system nor our education teaches us to question. No questions to make choices, no questions to learn. One who is afraid to ask is afraid to learn. And afraid we are to learn. Newton saw the falling apple and questioned its falling down rather then going up. And the result was the three Universal laws of gravitation. Einstein questioned the relation between mass & energy and gave us the quintessential E=mc square.
A generation questioned the Middle Age darkness in Europe and what was born, was what gave light not just to Europe, but to the world, The Renaissance. 
A generation questioned the British Rule in India and what was achieved was freedom on 15th august 1947. 
The Chinese questioned the US hegemony and the world fears if the sleeping dragon has finally woken up to change the world order.  
When was the last our generation questioned? Or did we ever question? We are all fighting, struggling with every day life, to accept and implement the solutions that the Generation last has passed on in the form of antiquated books to generation next.
 Imagine the power of questioning if we the future, begin to question! And not just lost in question, begins to seek an answer to those questions! In the heart of every question, lies an unsolved mystery to a new road, a new solution.      

Thirty & Thinking! : Will you still need me, when am Sixty-Four?

Not too old to question, not too young to answer. Not too young to be married, not too old to love! Not too young to be serious, not too old to laugh!!
Thirty is, undeniably a turning point. A point where all young age confusions end and the old life crisis have not yet begin. Yes, there is this weird upcoming concept of 30+ or mid-life crisis. But why kill the beauty of this beautiful thirtieth birthday!
Looking around, seeing everyone treating me on different scales of life, based on the relationship we share, is amusing!
That beautiful statue of the Divine, that loving Krishna, whom I have always held in my hands, or have always wanted to be held by Him in His hands. As a child, I thought he was my sibling; as an adolescent a friend, I saw him as a lover and as an adult, He looks like a child to me. To him, every birthday, I send every year my wish lists. From cycles and frocks as a child to Porsche and Lamborguines, the wish list is increasingly both in value and volume. But my sweet Lord, every year, looks with the same intent, passion and love into my eyes and says that He will always provide me with what I need the most, rather then what I want the most.
Ma & Pa calling early morning, wishing the thirtieth birthday, as though it was matter of fact ‘only the third’, made me feel so small. ‘You know, when you were born, your dad scattered away all the salary as tips to the staff at the hospital! You know when, your pa said, you are his dream, that you are Indira Gandhi!’ And also those same words, same tone, same endless love that I have heard from those lovely parents each every year on this day.
And then the friends, who still believe in the eternal existence of college days! ‘You know how we celebrated your 16th, 18th, 21st birthday.’ Alas, as if it was only last year!
But I was worried about my hubby dear. He has for over sixteen years made me feel like sixteen and the only birthday I remember celebrating was when I turned sixteen, the rest are like some memories! So when he lovingly wished me the birthday, the only question that still lingered in my eyes was, ‘Will you still need me when I am sixty-four?’ or should I have asked, ‘Will you still make me feel 16, when I am 64?’

Zurich: A visit to the home of Bollywood!

Home to the modern day symbols of affluence, the SWX Swiss Exchange, the seat of World Bank, the UBS, the Credit Suisse, Swiss Re, Swiss Life to name just a few, my pre-conceived notion of Zurich was a mix of emotion and rationality, love and business. Thanks to the Yash Chopra movies and the beautiful Bollywood beauties serenading in Chiffons at sub zero temperatures in the Alps, the word Swiss in the mind and heart of an average Indian evokes love and beauty. The adrenaline starts running faster with the letter ‘S’ of Swiss!

The Zurich airport is a reflection of German engineering. Simple, precise & elegantly designed with no frills attached and in plain pastel colours, it did not take a genius in me to realize that Zurich has to be a German canton of the Swiss! It is said that there are two degrees of precision: there are Germans and then there are Swiss Germans!! And the world famous Swiss German marvel the Swiss watches too, were omnipresent at the airport. The beautiful and the most populated canton of Switzerland, Zurich, has about 400,000 habitants, 30% of whom are foreigners. The canton has an old and long history, but the short German name ‘Zurich’ is quite recent dating way back to the ninth century. And voila! we started our day.

Even the fast train connecting the airport to the city had her sense of humour. An announcement that the train had reached the central station was followed by the mooooo! sound of our bovine friends, the cows!

The Swiss central station is a symbol of Swiss opulence with its panoramic architecture and huge grandeur.

Landing in the city at 6 in the morning, we were welcomed by a cool breeze which was soon followed by clouds. Seemed like, looking at us, the two starry-eyed Indians, even the weather seemed to be ready for a little mischief, a Bollywood rain & dance number!

Our hungry stomach made louder noise then our greedy eyes to have a view of scenic Zurich. And we headed to the first café we found, situated right in front of the lac de Geneva. The chocolate croissant with the cappuccino café at that French restaurant was one of the most sumptuous breakfasts we ever had in our lives. Exorbitantly priced, but justified by its taste and the view, we sat there for another couple of hours, looking aimlessly at the drizzling rains and sipping cups of coffee!

Situated at the backdrop of the pristine, titanic and expansive Alps with the swift Lac de Zurich flowing through it, Zurich presents a divine experience. A touch of heavenly Alps with a feel of ethereal Lac de Zurich, the place evokes a sense of two worlds coming together: where the sensory perceptions of sight and touch unite to give an experience surreal. Founded from an ancient valley glacier, where the river Limmat is born from the Lac de Zurich and then follows her path to join Sihl. Schanzengraben7, another important water body, curvaceously meandering through the city, adds not only the mystic aura to Zurich, but also provides the much needed source of sustenance, water, to her habitants.

Content and serene with the beautiful beginning, we started our day. Like a pilgrimage, we made a quick detour to the usual touristy museums and churches.

A visit to the Swiss National Museum is like a quick, crash course about the history and culture of the Swiss. Another museum, Rietberg is a rich and interesting with a huge collection of oriental art works.

Situated at the heart of the city, the 1200 year old Church of Fraumunster has beautiful stained glass works by Marc Chagall and Augusto Giacometti. Another architectural masterpiece is the roman styled Grossmünster Church, that took around 120 years to complete.

But I was yet to discover the Bollywood effect! Enamoured by the lac de Geneva, I felt, the visit would be meaningless without a boat ride. Firmly seated outside, we sat on the deck to capture the moments, sing songs and feel the charisma of the place. The eternal hour long drive seemed dreamlike. The cool breeze, followed by splashes of dew drops and then intermittent sun, it was a melody of seasons, a meeting of the celestial Alps with the earthly lac de Geneva. It was our date with each other in the lap of nature. Stroked gently by the breeze of wind, the oneness with nature could not just be seen but also felt. It seemed to last forever!

On the way back, we decided to walk. The trouble was worth the visual delight that followed. Walking through the cobbled streets, crossing over bridges and drinking freely flowing natural water we were back rejuvenated.

We also discovered some artistic richesses of the city on the way. Zurich has been a capital of art, culture and literature. Many prominent composers like Max Frisch, Johann Heinrich, Füssli, Gottfried Kellera, Thortin Wilder and James Joyce were born or lived there.

My heart knew no joy to be in the beautiful city when I discovered that my revered author and the creator of my favourite 'Siddhartha', Herman Hesse lived here. I wanted to stay longer and with some sense of clairvoyance feel the artistic soul of the city. But in this long journey of life, it was just a little stopover. And it was time to run to the airport and catch another flight to another city..........

Only if one could tag in blogs!

Writing is like breathing the fresh thoughts, speaking the unspoken, penning the thoughts invincible. Facebook came up with this novel concept of tagging people, friends and places. What if one could tag the same way on blogs! Tag we do, by give words to our thoughts. A picture they say is worth a thousand words. But the charm of penning what a picture says in one click, is simply inimitable. What is it about words that makes them so special? ‘Words’, thought Shakespeare, ‘are rascals and bonds disgrace them!’. Being with someone special is a moment treasurable. They are moments when words are so very meaningless. But long they last as memories and sometimes the desire to pen them down is so invincible that words become sentences, sentences expressions penned on the sands of time, like memories sweet and bitter, long and short, corporeal yet ethereal. And every memory is tagged with a name, a person, a place, a moment; impressed particularly for that one instant, that single individual and the very special situation.
Till I start tagging it all in my reminiscent blogs, long rest those thoughts, those memoirs in the tenuous scaffold of my spirits!

Kabhi alvida na kehna! ...

Touched, untouched, nostalgic, aloof, wrapped in a melody of memories moistened with the dew drops of déjà vu, I landed in my motherland. The honking horns, crowded streets, dusty lanes, fuming buses brought back a flood of memories that my dreamy mind had almost forgotten. I could remember but not connect, I could sense but not feel, it was a sensory stimulation in an ethereal environ. I felt like a stranger in my own land.

Meeting my musketeer friends on friendship day will be a memory cherished for a long time. Every thinking mind took its amusing path. Graduating from one of the finest B-schools in India, we carried on our sleeves a big brand and a great dream in our eyes. The vision, the perseverance and the consistent efforts over a decade was what made all the difference. Some choose to be bankers, some consultants while some choose to devote themselves raising a family. It was beautiful to meet after ten years of graduating and see how little decisions in life make big differences. Finding little toddlers with my best toddler friends was like seeing the circle of life moving in front of my eyes. It was a realization that how we all come to the world like little seeds, grow into full blossom trees and then begins the degeneration, the final journey towards a life after life! Though whether life after life exists or not is an interesting thinking point for philosophers, religious scholars and spiritualists alike, what is most amusing is that though everyday we see this circle of life giving us energy, resources to grow and then once we have learnt our lessons and made our contributions to the world, it starts taking away the power, the strength; yet we all conveniently choose to close our eyes to this one most visible truth. Transformations nothwithstanding, the quaint evening left vivid memories in my impressionable heart. Till we meet again, kabhi alvida na kehna!

Kon-nichiwa! Sayonara!! … For Kayo

Being Japanese … precise, pristine, poised and yes, very polite! Japan is a beautiful culture with its courteous but reticent people. My introduction to Japan was ‘Oshin’, a Japanese television serial about a petite, delicate young Japanese girl called ‘Oshin’. What is in a name?! Well all is defined in a name. ‘Oshin’, means flower, love and heavenly. And presenting the modest, but attractively dressed Oshin in exquisite Kimono, the serial dubbed in Hindi became a household Indian name. The culture fascinated the little me and millions of Oshin-struck viewers across India who watched the little ‘Oshin’ grow up, fighting everyday with the struggle called life. Her simple but elaborate Kimono was fascinating enough, even for the culturally-rich, profoundly saree-clad, jewellery bearing Indian women. I grew up & I forget the fragile Oshin, but the impressions remained.
A fortuitous encounter with a charming forever young, Japanese friend was my re-introduction to the little Oshin. Blissfully, as we grew closer, my sweet Kayo, helped me appreciate the ornate Japanese customs in all its nobility. And when she suggested if we should spend a day like the Japanese.. dressed in kimono, following all the elaborate customs and enjoying the Japanese tea and cuisine, the proposal was too tempting. The idea of being one with a culture so mystifying because of its perfection, yet so simplifying for its politeness, was simply irresistible!
And the appointed day arrived.
I stood like a mannequin. And as my very patient friend, dressed me up in the elaborate kimono, I could not wait to see myself in the mirror. We dressed up in a special form of ‘Kimono’ called ‘Yukata’. The unpretentious Yukata in pristine white required special skills to carry, which I realized quickly. Everytime I tried walking with my brisk footsteps, the elegantly tied up ‘Yukata’ got completely dis-organized. The forever patient Kayo unwearyingly explained, it is not simply about wearing Japanese, it is about feeling the culture, walking tenderly, expressing politeness in your footsteps and mannerisms and emitting the gentle energy. It was difficult to begin with! But imitating Kayo, made it easy!! What followed was an ordinary day becoming extraordinary…. an effortless transformation into a delightful culture which I felt so much one with.
Thanks Kayo…for you recreated the magic called Oshin! You will always be enormously treasured, incredibly special….

A weekend date with the Green Gold of Luxurious Luxembourg

Luxembourg coming from the French word ‘Luxe’ which means luxury, interestingly, is not just all luxury. The myth called ‘L’ for Luxembourg and ‘L’ for luxury was completely shattered with our visit to the tiny Esch-sur-Sûre village & Vianden.
A small village with its history dating back to its ruined castled built in 927 AD, Esch-sur-Sûre village is inhabited by a little over 300 villagers.
Built on the stony terrain in the Sûre river, the uneven terrain of the steep, low-high-low village curvaceously meanders into steep cliffs as the soft mountainous terrains embrace the Sûre river. Far removed from the luxuries and riches of the capital Luxemburg city, Esch-sur-Sûre village is a conspicuous reminder how the Luxumbourgeans with their love for environment, choose to have more green spaces then gold spaces!
Visit to Esch-sur- Sûre is an unhurried date with nature, perfect for a lazy weekend to relax and feel close to the endless mountainous terrains surrounded by flawless & clean waters of Sûre river and the artificial lake nearby. Must visit for those hopelessly in love with nature.
To last our date with nature, we drove down to Vianden. The vivid & vivacious Vianden blanketed by deep dense forests, with little wooden houses as though wearing a wooden coverlet, obliquely snaking through the river Our presents a panoramic landscape. A walk down the river ‘Our’ on a bright morning or fishing with the locals on a warm sunny afternoon can bright up the subdued sprits out of their blues. For the more adventourous, a visit to the Indian forest, Vianden’s leading adventure park is a must visit.
That was the naturally luxe Luxembourg from the lens of wandering mendicant. For my luxurious side, we planned a date with the city for another day!

In Bruges

Scenic, picturesque & petite. 3 words to describe Bruges. The words sum up the essence but not the spirit. For the spirit, the magnanimity of this magnetic medieval town situated about 110 kms from the capital city Brussels , Belgium is too grand to be captured in a few words. If you are coming by car, the station would be a good place to park. There is a Park & Ride right in front of the station. 24 hour parking costs a measely Euro 2.5. And for those whose who park, a too & fro ticket to the grote is free. Thus paid parking & a free ride to the centre. Bruges is also well-connected by Brussels with a train running every hour and each train taking about an hour to reach Bruges. The station is just a stone’s throw from the central square or the grotte, as the Belge call it.

However, it would be sinful to take a bus ride in Bruges. Sinful because walking on the streets is an experience unmatched. On a warm sunny afternoon, with the moist wind blowing into your face, holding arms of your loved one, capturing the magical moments in the camera, appreciating architecture dating way back to 1200, is a surreal experience that no skyscrapers ridden modern day jungles of concrete can promise to offer.

A good start to this beautiful town is a walk on the old ancient cobbled streets, counting the cobbles and the years written and footsteps imprinted over those hundreds of year old stones. Looking at the cobbles I kept my foot on, I felt each had a story to tell. Story of those millions of tourists that had flocked this little Venice of Northern Europe over years and written on the sands of time, beautiful moments of love.

Divine white coloured swans numbering over 250 swarm over the lake of love or lac d’amour, as the French call it, making it look even more romantic in the beautiful medieval set-up, is a good place to rest & aimlesslessly look around to capture the beauty of the scenic town.

Right next to the lake of love is Begijnhof, undoubtedly the most priceless place in all of Bruges. The home to the religious community of unmarried and widowed women in the 13th century, Begijnhof to this day, has houses for the old & the unmarried dedicated to the religious cause. So make sure to maintain silence as you enjoy the celestial charm of delightful daffodils in this enigmatic quiet dwelling.

As we walked down the street, we came across the College of Europe. The lawyer in me, fell instantaneously in love with the College. Set-up on the banks of Den Dijver, Bruges’ most magnificent canal, College of Europe looks like a feminine figure enrapping in its structure the Beauty with Brains. Rated as one of the finest colleges for European Law, the college is not just a temple for learning the EU law, politics and policy-making, but the environs create a prefect set-up to evoke the poet in you.

Bruges is the heaven for sea food lovers. Lined up with restaurants, the cobbled streets lead us to centuries old fish market. About a stone’s throw away from the Burg square & gothic town hall, the fish market dates back to 1821 and the fishes from the nearby North Sea is available on sale from Tuesdays to Saturdays from 6 am to 1 pm.
Talking about food & love, Burges has one of the three most romantic hotels in Europe. Rated as the Best Charming hotel of Europe, the Pand Hotel, captures in its mansion the mystical charm of the 18th century Europe. Owned by the family Vanhaecke, the beautiful modern day hotel captures the longing medieval charm with its traditional fireplace, like an old English country house, historic classics with their old original versions neatly packed on the shelfs of the library and not to forget the collectors Louis Vuitton suitcases, wooden & glass collectables. The old day set-up is well backed up by modern day luxuries such as Wi-Fi, central heating etc to make the stay a complete holistic experience captured in space & time.

Another very romantic hotel, glorified further by the magical touch of Pieter Porters who has created a magnum opus in each room is the Hotel "De Tuilerieën". The 15 century maison preserving its historic appeal has all the modern day luxuries to make it an ideal stay. Overlooking Burges’ inarguably most beautiful canal, ‘Den Dijver’, Hotel "De Tuilerieën", is small Dutch House in an enchanting setting. Sipping Belgian beer or simply muching the world famous Belgian chocolates with an overview through the Hotels all original Venetian glass windows is perfect date with time.

Bruges has something for everyone. For the art lovers, Groeningmuseum, Memlingmuseum & Onze Lieve Vrouwkerk are a must visit. Onze Lieve Vrouwkerk or the Church of our Lady has Michelangelo’s 15th century masterpiece Madonna & Child.

The historic buildings of Burges are a savor for the eyes as one sees different kinds of architecture lined one after another, providing an occasion to cotton on the subtleties of architecture. The different forms of Dutch architecture followed by the Gothic with its pointed arch, ribbed vault & flying buttress, lined right next to the Renaissance architecture, present a spectrum of construction over centuries.

Bruges for the romantic should begin with a walk and finish with a boat ride. Watching the buildings, the attractions in Boat ride with the multilingual commentary from our driver, gave a feeling so profound, so intense that I felt a day that began on a good note ended on a perfect one!

Despite its tourist rush, expensive eating outlets, the city of canals is never too touristy for a second visit!

Times called yesterday

The return of the New Year bought me back a beautiful old memory....

As the first Indian, basically a non- Chinese, the decision to live in dorms was difficult for some, unbelievable for others. Specially, when you are a vegetarian, used to delicious home- made sumptuous cuisines, the thought of a dorm without a kitchen is unbelievable. But something inside said, I must try. For I really wanted to live the Oriental life the Oriental way immersed in an all Oriental experience. The thought seemed exotic. The experience was sweet. 
Luggage loaded, completely exhausted the first thing I wanted to do was hit the bed undisturbed for a nightfull of peace. But the roller coaster had just begun. A call to the hostel to confirm the address was returned by an alien all-Chinese greeting. Not that I had not been warned, but when does a crazy adventurous heart listen to the intricacies of troubles that lie ahead! The gentle lady seated besides me had a sense of clairvoyance. More importantly she spoke English! She called up the hostel, took a taxi, guided him the route to take me to my destination. It was only the commencement of a beautiful relationship. A devout Buddhist fascinated by India, Lee & I discovered that we had a lot in common. What more she was an alumni from ECUPL, the same university where I was going to spend the rest of my Semester. But what was most touching was that for this simple two minute acquaintance this perfect stranger in the Land of Dragon spent one complete hour trying to help me out. I was touched. I was thrilled.
Tired, I opened my room to see the vast white spaces covered with cobwebs, dust. Oh my God! I have never cleaned a room. This is tough. Frowning, I started unfolding my luggage. There was a knock on the door. All my batchmates who lived locally & therefore, had arrived before had come to help me. Smilingly, they quickly cleaned my room, arranged the furniture and spent an evening out to help me do all the shopping. Moved by the warm gesture I was sure this will not be one time to China. I have to come back again. The terrains might be difficult. Infrastructure may call for investment. But people are warm, touching and beautiful not just from outside but more importantly from inside. 
The first day was the start of uncountable wonderful gestures by the local Chinese, the fruit vendor who would always get me special fruits, the strangers who would willingly change routes to help me reach my destination, friends who would be forever helpful to make everyday life easy, the security guard who would open the classroom even on weekends to let me do my research, which eventually went on to be the best paper at an International contest. 
Chinese New Year was a particularly emotional experience. All the students at the dorm had returned home to celebrate New Year with their families. There were just five of us in the entire dorm. On the eve of the New Year my friends took me to a wonderful place where a special evening was organized by the hostel authorities to give gifts and dinner to those who were enable to return home to celebrate. The traditional music, dance, food and not to forget the gifts was memorable. I returned home, I mean hostel for it was my home now for at least a year. My friend Lijja had sent a special invite to join her for the celebrations. With a nice silken scarf and a tumultuous three hour bus ride, I reached her place to find a wonderful family, warm friends waiting to celebrate the evening with me. Little kids trying to sit on my lap, a sweet mother trying to prepare vegetarian meal for me and the great Chinese family all trying to make me feel at home in their sweet little ways made feel nostalgic. It was like the great Diwali experience in India. Late in the night, Lijja insisted that they would drop me back to the dorm. Smilingly they drove some 200 kms on that special evening. 
The warm human touch from strangers who shared nothing in common except for emotions taught me a new way of communication. The language of love. The warmth of goodness. 
I came and I went. I lived for over six months in Shanghai. As I look back at that nice warm experience in cold Shanghai winters, just one thought accompanies. If I can go back and say to them, thanks for making my stay special.   




    

In Madrid

Madrid was relaxing. 

12 hours of stranding at the Charleroi sapped off all the energy from me and gave me a big shoe bite. But the bodily hindrances proved no obstacle to the visual delights we were so eagerly looking forward to. It just made my presence a little delightful to curious onlookers, well dressed ladies, excited young ones and the gentlemen looking forward to well- dressed Latino ladies on the sunny streets of Madrid. The soft woolen sole less shoes was the only cover my shoe-bit ridden toe fingers would except. So wearing my attitude and cheerful smile, I confidently put on the visual delight! 
And Ola! We started with the typical tourist attractions. Plaza Mayor was a good start. Colorful wigs in shiny blue, bright red, tangling pink, olive green were not just available for sale, but some daring patrons actually chose to wear them on the Christmas eve. The Christmas market at the Plaza was a nice walk. Confectioneries tasting like oranges, blackberry, pineapple, mangoes and blackcurrent took me back in space and time to the innocent childhood, when sweetmeats were enough to sweeten my innocent world with all the happiness. Spain without sea food! Without Paellea! Without Tapas! Ohlalala!! Would be saint like.... But the pleasure seekers would not appreciate that. So thought my significant other. And he rushed to seek stimulus for his drying taste buds. The sea food bazaar, next to Plaza Mayor is your place to be if you love sea food. Oysters, fishes, octopus, prawns, crabs, lobsters, topas made in a special Spanish style with Spanish Sangria( literally 'blood' in Spanish, named so because of its colour) adorned the numberless food counters at the bazar. The sea food connoisseurs thronging the place in droves leaving  no breathing space, made one feel as if the food were available for free.   

Leaving Spain without eating oranges, without bathing in the sun and above all without watching 'bailamos' flamenco would have been like living but not breathing. So we chose to breath! Lazing around on the sunny afternoon beneath the brilliantly shining sun at the three adjacent Gardens: Jardines Cabo Noval, Plaza de Orient & Jardines de Lepanto, we admired the magnificient Palacio Real, a grand majestic figure, reminiscent of rich Royal legacy of Spain, silhouetted against ciel blue skies surrounded by scenic natural beauty was definitely relaxing. Tour inside the palace was equally mesmerizing. The intricate Royal paintings, decorations, the scientifically advanced Pharmacy and the rich Royal armoury, left me thinking. And my simple mind thought is the Royal Title too much off a responsibility, too much of surreality on the frail shoulders of a simple human mind. Shrouded in the Royal aura definitely seemed glamorous, the Palace indeed was grand, large enough to spend a week to see all of it. But was it grand enough to define the boundaries of freedom of a human being. And it seemed too difficult to me to answer. So I tried to forget the question. And we moved to take the panoramic view of the natural landscape from the lobby. It was spectacular. It was platonic. And with the setting sun, we said, Buonanotte to our third day in Spain.      

And we made it to Madrid!

.. And we made it to Madrid! 

-7 degrees in the skies, +4 inches of ice on the ground, continuous snowing and a wind chill factor that made -7 feel like -12... Santa Claus for sure had a beautiful christmas present for us. The chilling winds reminded me of the cold 2010. The year I almost wished had never come in my life.
Will we, won't we make it? It had been snowing all night. Two lost souls with a forlorn look sletching heavy luggages through ankle high snow  at 4 in morning was a good start to the big challenge that lay ahead. Economizing our budgets, we had planned a low cost carrier to Madrid. The economic saving proved to be a promising nightmare. The Charleroi airport reminded me of Old Delhi Railway Station. Delayed flights, cancelled trips, long queues, chaotically charged atmosphere at the airport was quite a roller coaster. Every five minute update on the screens, would bring a new ray of hope for some, a great disappointment for many. It was not just about financial stakes, it was about the long Christmas holidays that we had planned. All flights leaving before 9 had been cancelled due to the heavy snowfall the night before. We were saved by just a couple of minutes! So it seemed promising. However, due to bad weather conditions the plane had been diverted to Cologne. Delayed, stranded at the airport for over 4 hours already, but we still had a chance. The ray of hope made me visualize Santa in the misty snow. Santa please! Please! We must make it to Madrid. 9, 10, 11. Only one plane had been boarded since morning. But due to bad weather conditions, the passengers had to be disembarked. If we were to leave for Madrid, ours would be the first flight since morning to take off. Finally at 12, we boarded our flight. But for another two hours that we spent in the plane, waiting for air clearance to take off. At 2 we finally managed to fly.  Using all possible and thinkable forms of transport.. First by feet, then by car, taxi, bus, train, plane and again by train! in twelve endless hours!!, we reached our destination. And we made it to Madrid!