Window Dressing

What to do when you do not have a lot of money to spend on window dressing your shop? What if you want to attract two very different, but equally lucrative demographics to your toy shop?

You mix and match them, hoping that the result would produce a chuckle in the minds of your customers, particularly the second demographics.

And come up with some thing like this:

And this:





I belonged in the second demography of grown-up comic fan, and am assuming the pink loving little girls also found the shop irresistible.

Serendipity

Since I was old enough to learn English - which was three years - I have been told that English is my ticket to freedom and opportunities. Apparently, nobody ever reached anywhere just learning my mother tongue. So once I moved to Europe, I did not expect the Indian languages to help me out.

I was so wrong.

I was in Berlin, and one wrong turn meant I was in the wrong street. In my search for the perfect food, I was suddenly in the middle of a residential neighborhood, most of the apartments looking deserted for the holidays. I was not too worried about the dark buildings, as much as I was about the hunger pangs in my stomach. I wanted to eat something good, and I wanted to eat fast.

I walked towards the one source of light, a restaurant which is open at this twilight time, looking like the only place in earth which is open. I went inside, only to stare at someone who only knew German.

Looking around, taking the decorations of the restaurant in, and discounting the nice Europeans who were peacefully dining, I bellowed into the kitchen - "Aare Bhaisaab!" (Hello Brother) - a girl's gotta eat.

Which brought out the owner pretty fast, much to the shock of his German customers and employees. I continued chatting with him in Hindi. A first generation Pakistani from Lahore, he has been in Berlin for the last forty years, his kids married to 'white women'. He questions me on my province, the number of siblings I have, about my parents and grandparents and if I am traveling alone; just like a polite first time conversation in Hindi ought to me.

One sublime chicken biriyani and a free, unasked mango lassi later, I am pointed out my way on the map; and one of the employees is volunteered by the hotel manager to drop me to where I live.

An Audi flag on the moon

There is art and there is art.

Art can be found anywhere. And often when you strip it down to the basics, it is all the same.

How can this,

which is essentially a painting on the contemporary life of the artist, drawn on a wall, essentially different from this?

We did talk about it on our walk to the Slaughterhouse Hill and reached the conclusion that art is in the eye of the beholder.

Even then, some artists are better than others. They take their surroundings into consideration and create smart art, like this:

Yes, on the first look, it is an austronaut. Now, you have to understand that when the artist started working on the mural, there was ( and still is ) an Audi showroom nearby. And like any self respectable auto showrooms, they did have a neat row of flags in front of the dealership. And of course, given that they also dealt in second had cars which were parked in front of the dealership, the entire space was lit with some very strong lights in the evening.

The artist noticed that the shadow of one of the flags falls perfectly on to the wall. So he painted the autronaut in such a way that he holds a shadow flags with the Audi symbol on it in the night, acting as smart art and a commentary on our wealth focused times.

Notes from Berlin - III The SS Art Camp

If buildings had a religion, they all would be Hindus. After certain eras, many of them get reborn - some undergo a step down to ruins, while others step up their standing - the Musee d Orsay is a great example. What was once an old railway station has now become this:

Not too shabby, especially if you house some great works of Degas and Monet, among others. However, the one building that really did the turnaround in it's lifetimes is this squatter house is Berlin. The building was one of the old SS offices which stored a lot of documents on how SS systematically wiped out entire families and communities in many parts of Europe.

So, when the Allies won the war, the SS flooded their basement where all the war crime records were kept. I doubt if the documents themselves were called war crime journals though, they might have originally called them 'Glorious Examples of Supreme Race's Ingenuity' or something. However, given that the entire basement was flooded the Allies sealed the basement when they found they could not salvage the documents. The building was left as a ghostly reminder of a past that was both horrifying and shameful.

That was when the artists and squatter groups started moving in. Now this place does not have an inch of space without some kind of graphics on it. People live, work and sell their works here. There are also plans to turn this into an open air movie theater.

Just because your past was shitty does not mean that you cannot have a fun filled future.

Lena come back

A city lives through the stories that it's streets tell about them. And in these days, street art ( or graffiti ) is the picture book which illustrate these stories.

I usually like to discover a city on my own, armed with enough reading material to start a traveling library. However, graffiti is not considered as a legitimate art form in many places, so when I heard of a free tour around Berlin which would be focused on street art, I had to sign up.

The tour was lead by a Londoner who stepped straight out of the pages of a Neil Gaiman book and his trusty dog.

And the group that gathered around them consisted of people as different and similar as a group of graffiti lovers could be. Among them were people I would meet again, and have a good time with, but I did not know that then.

So it was our guide who told us the story of Lena. See the pretty girl in the picture below? That is her, and this is her story.

The paintings of Lena appeared on the walls of Berlin one day, all with the same plaintive message "Lena, come back. I miss you." Unrequited love is an all too common and all too terrible thing, so many in the city sympathized with him. As the number of paintings across the city grew, the messages along with them also grew in their sense of loss. As the artist began to tell Lena that he would do everything, anything, to be back with her, the city waited with bated breath.

If you are a romantic who has experienced unrequited love, you would not have been able to stand these messages follow you around the city, whatever you plan to do, wherever you plan to go. So, in a sense of kinship, other people started to put out their own street posters, asking Lena to forgive the artist and go back to him.

If you have a heart, then being on the receiving end of a love that you do not reciprocate can be a terrible thing. Those who have experienced it thought back to their own experiences of the dark side of love, and rallied behind this girl they have never met with counter messages.

"Lena, do not go back to him. It is not going to change" and "Lena, are you safe, if in trouble, call xxx-xxxxxx" with their phone numbers in the posters. Lena became the friend, sister and daughter of people whom she had never met. Women who look like Lena were reported to be seen in different parts of the city. The city was on alert : one half to find her, the other half to shield Lena.

The Berlin radio station picked up the story and one of the RJs invited the artist to make his plea mainstream via his radio channel. However, it turned out to be more shocking than anyone expected it to be.

That day on air, the artist told the world the truth. There was/is no Lena. She was a figment of his imagination, an inanimate piece in his project to check how Berliners would react to a plea of love.

So, if you missed out on the love of your life in Berlin, do not put out posters asking her to get in touch with you. The city is going to shrug it's shoulders and move on, still in shock from the fact that Lena was not real.

Notes from Berlin - I

First bird call, first fresh green blades of grass, first shoots on a tree. I was getting tired of waiting for them in Finland and went to Berlin, Dresden and Prague in search of them during the first week of April. It was in a way, a temporary eloping with myself, away from the cold, grey skies and the dirty snow that became a fixture of Helsinki.

My birthday was just two weeks back, so a dear friend gifted me a moleskin notebook. For the first time in my travels, I stared to capture my journey not just in pictures, but also in words. A picture can show what you saw on the road, but being on the road is also an intensely intrinsic experience when you pause and reflect on the life left behind.

It has taken me more than two weeks to get to the little notebook with the furiously scrawled notes, but I will be transcribing them to the blog, to take them from my head and to put them away somewhere. So, in the order of random musings, here goes:

The Brand

Confession time : I have always felt like I have been to a Starbucks thanks to the many web-comics, tv series and web series that I faithfully follow. But I had never been to one, and when I saw one in Berlin ( derisively referred to as Starfucks by a local guide map to a walking tour ) I had to go inside.

The inside was not an architectural or design marvel. I have been to coffee-shops which were designed with much more love and whimsy, and I have seen food which had looked more mouth watering. I am not a coffee person, so I decided to order a tea from the counter. Tea in hand, I moved to a spot of sunshine in front of the coffeehouse. All around me, hipsters typed on, into their mac books, iPhones and even a few iPads; some of them even willing to rebel within their hipster identity by using HP touch-pads or Sony Wios. The place was intellectually snobbish. I found a free table, and sat down there, inhaling the second hand smoke that was liberally distributed by my coffee-table neighbors. Starbucks was exactly the way it was parodied to be.

Halfway through my tea, I realized that I was using my moleskin notebook in a way as to show off the fact that I am using it than actually trying to use it in a good way, and that I have been a little too careful with my placement of Bad Science, on my table. I had morphed into a little intellectual snob. I finished writing, made eye contact with the hard smoking guys sitting and typing away at a Mac at the next table, reciprocated their tight smiles and felt relief at the sense of belonging. I fit in. I can fake it at a hipster hangout.

The power of branding is very very subtle and very very strong, at the same time.

Alone, but not lonely

I am on a trip to Copenhagen tomorrow, all alone.

My first trip alone was in 2007. I had never traveled to reach a destination where I knew nobody. However, When I was to come to Helsinki for a year ( yeah, right.) I wanted to see as much of Europe as possible. But I was not sure if I would find others whose schedules would match up with me.

Hence, listening to my dormant engineering brain, I did a trial run in Goa. The first three days, I switched off my phone, played PC games on my laptop - finished 1 - read - finished two books - ate when I wanted and slept - in my room. Living my life without the demands of anything or anyone; going where I want and eating what I wanted made me a fan of traveling alone.

My last travel also was by myself. Granted, I did meet up with friends, but I decided on my schedule and what I wanted to see - or not to see. I could sit in a part and read Dorothy L Sayers because it was laid out like an English garden and I was not making anybody late. I went to watch movies alone and became one, even though for a short while, with the people in those theaters.

My first travel in June is with a friend. I am sure that the complete serendipity of traveling alone will not be there - it would be more structured to suit both of us. But I am looking forward to that one too, as traveling with friends help me rediscover them all over again and realize, with a relief, that they have not changed all that much.

But I am looking forward to traveling tomorrow too, as it will help me rediscover the person I love and value the most in the world : me.

And I am really excited to meet her.

Excuses Galore

The past few days, Ive been visiting Murphy on and off.

First my laptop crashed. Then my personal laptop got such a viral attack that it was virtually sneezing and leaving goo all over my home. Then my colleagues laptop, which he kindly loaned to me, crashed. I guess I turned to Magneto for a day...

Upside: 1.5 days of unintended holiday.

Downside: Work being piled up. I hate not ticking off things on my TO-DO list, and the thought of all the work not done kind of took the sheen away from the dont do anything and stay home period.

Been to Rome. Been to rock climbing and I love the feeling of falling. The feeling of my limbs aching over the next two days, not so much. But still, will, go again.

May travel again next week, related to work. So it remains to be seen how much of blogging will be done. However my passport is with the US Embassy - I finally got the visa! - so need to pick it up for the travel. No biggie.

Ive not told you about the Manticore and his girlfriend, have I? Seems like her best friend is finally ready to tell us about them. This looks promising.

Love birds

There was a man at the town square in Copenhagen, who was covered with pigeons.

I walked up to him, took a snap; took two more.

I smiled at him.

He gazed at me without welcome or hostility, like I was not really there. His pigeons and seagulls were around him, on him, over him.

How long have you been feeding them?

For a while.

Seems like they recognize you....

That they do.

Look, one is on your head!

He smiled, with the pigeon perched atop his head as feathers on his nonexistent cap.

It was then I noticed his hands. There were claw marks, blood clots, where the beaks and claws have thought fit to enter. He still fed them pieces of hot-dog buns. And was silently talking to them.

I stood there, half curious, half afraid of their talons, wondering about his strange world, envying him a little.

Isnt love like this? Like a flock of pigeons who trust you, it takes many years to nurture. Like the pigeons, it still unwttingly hurt you with the sharp beaks and talons. And those outside the magic ring are half afraid, half curious;about this strange sensation.

Break over

So, this is the longest break I have taken from blogging.

And what did I do?

I visited a country, and cried in my heart for people whom I had never known. The KGB museum in Vilnius was hurtful. It was housed in an old prison, and had the prison cells, torture chambers and execution areas underground.

I do not want to try and describe my feelings that day - they cant be.

But still, I think they do deserve a moment of my life, a drop of my tear. This is to remember them, what they dreamt of, and of their children vowing not to forget.

I think I finally got over my granny's death. I traced back the same route I took, when grief numbed, I travel halfway home from office on a chilly December night before realizing that I left my home keys in office.

I went back there, and came back with the keys, and remembered that I left my laptop and my bag back in office - my big bag with all my money and means of money.

I crossed over the bridge, not knowing where I was walking. I was in limbo.

Some weeks later, I walked the same path; in daylight, enjoying the beauty.

So here I am. This is me. And I am typing the first lines of a Bryan Adams song, which means I have to sleep. Now.

But now that I am here, I promise to talk more to you, to keep you posted on life, and the crazy stories that come with the territory.

Travel notes...

Ladies out there who are single, listen.

Pack your bags and set forth to those places where you have always wanted to go.

I always wanted to go to Goa, and laze around in a beach with may be a dog for company.

Google and google. Then google some more for good prices in better places to stay.

I got a good deal for a resort with its own beach. And It also had a dog, which gave me company to laze around in the beach.

Take your pick - of music, of books. Take books which celebrate the spirit of being independent, and the books you loved as a child. Archie comics and Nancy Drew do qualify.

My choices were Enid Blyton, Paulo Coelho & Gerald Durrell.

Take enough of clothes, shampoos, creams and what not. Think long term and take a big bag so that you can shop around as much as you want.

I packed three pairs of footwear, which quadrupled by the end of the journey. My half empty travel bag has so many new occupants that I had to buy another one.

Lie through your teeth. Feel free to give yourself a new name, new job and new identity when friendly strangers question you. When feeling guilty remember Shakespeare : " What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet". Spill the truth only if you are 150% comfortable with the person.

My different names were Maria, Nisha, Divya, Asha, Lily.... and I was a Mumbaikar, Goan, Bong, Delhite, Tamil Brahmin... and was studying, working in a call center... And I did tell the truth once in a while.

Splurge. On yourself. It's no crime to feel selfish and self oriented once in a while as long as you earned what you plan to spend.

Ref the footwear...

Don't have an itinerary. Do what you feel like doing. We all have our to-do list at work. Don't make your holiday another project where you have to run around.

I slept, read, rode a two wheeler around aimlessly, took many photographs, collected sea shells, made friends with many dogs, gave massages to many cats who came purring... and also visited the beaches, the churches, the museums, the eateries....

Be happy that unlike our hitched sisters, we are free to chart our own courses and run free as wild horses. Enjoy the freedom and appreciate it - there is bliss in companionship, but let's not forget the gift of singledom that we have now...

S'long!!!

Settled bills.

Had / gave treats.

Said goodbyes.

Booked everything.

Ready for take off.

Feelin' good.

Off to the real world... will be back by end of this month!!!

Comfortably....

Its always a ritual to pack your bags.

You make that one last stop to your favorite bookshops and stock them up. You go to the ' out of my way arty place' and end up buying 'the cutest arm chair! and its only 350 bucks!!' to ship it all the way to santaland.

You try a round of all your favorite eateries. You gorge on phuchkas. You enjoy the seasonal fruits and have mangoes for breakfast lunch and dinner ( well, almost). Mangoes, the rare fruit in santaland.

You buy the same movie titles which you called horrible not so long back. They dont release them in Santaland.

You realize that Santaland is dictating you, getting into your taste buds and consciousness.You accept it passively, and glide through the rest of your long list.

You try meeting up with friends and colleagues. You feel disgusted with their you-forgot-to-call-me-so-i'm-gonna-stand-you-up antics. Then you remember that this is probably the reason why you are friends with them anyways. But so much to do, and you are so tired to respond to what could be grown into a amazing man v/s woman war. You are more in the walking-away mode, not in the I-will-try-to-win-our-argument or I-will-beg-with-you-till-you-say-yes mode.

You sigh.

You think of the people whom you met for the past couple of days, how you could have become good friends. You think of seniors and juniors and batch mates and colleagues whom you would have liked to know better; but its too late, too futile now.

You feel bad that you may not see some people again. You feel happy that you will never see some people again. You pray to God that you would never get to see some people again.

You book tickets. You arrange for travel and other accommodations. You are assumed to be a man, then a married woman. You sigh again, and correct them each time - no; I am traveling alone. Somewhere along the line, you just give up.

....numb.


PS:Those who know of some good place near North Goa, please let me know... the more happening, the better!

Love

At kindergarten, love was all about who had the most succulent mangoes in their backyard.

At class three, love was about who was the hero, who solved all the mysteries and who was the leader.

At class nine, love was about academics. The brainier, the better.

At class twelve, love was divided amongst the ones who could smile the best.

In undergraduate days, it was about the one who was the most idealistic in my mind.

During first job, love was about who wanted to be individualistic.

At post grad, it was about a mirage of all those past loves.

Now, for the first time in my life, I am not worried about the fact that I am single.

I love me.

Sounds of beauty

If you are reading this blog, then you probably see beauty in everyday life than experience it in other forms. But at times, the sounds of world do have their own ways of creating goosebumps in your brain. Try these sounds, you may like them.


The low rumbling of imminent rain, which after a few seconds transfer into a rainstorm.

Best heard when you are sitting in a courtyard with three open sides, just a roof to protect you from the rain, earth and plants all around in breathless anticipation. Drink to have in hand is kanji (rice brew) , coffee, spice tea or hot soup. For better experience, sit somewhere where the rain droplets can just miss you. The best companion is someone silent, like a dog or a cat.

Best experienced during Kerala monsoons, India- 2006.

The namaz from a mosque.

There is nothing as pure, or as hard hitting produced by humans as listening to the namaz which come to you from nowhere. Though I don't understand Arabic, any rendition beginning with Allah Akbar instantly transports me back to my childhood. The best place would be a desolate area, with just the prayer connecting you to humanity.

Best experienced in Bhubaneswar, India - 2007.



Wind washing the leaves.

Best heard when hiking through a forest, thick fog making it difficult to see anything one feet away from you. For added adrenalin rush, make sure that you are trekking through unknown mountain foot-wide path which drop down to a deep valley.

Best Experienced in Yerkadu, India - 2002.




A single church Bell.

Best when coupled with antique churches which stand in solitude. The single bell provides an experience that a cascade of them cannot match. Also listen to the echoes die away for the complete experience.

Best heard in Goa & Kerala.



The inner depths of an old palace courtyard / temple / museum.

It is not about the sound, but the lack of it. If we really listen in these places when the clatter and clutter is over, we can hear our body. The thumps, the wheezes, the ringings and the rumbles - all voices and noises real and imaginary is great to listen to; and if really lucky, we can have a good chat with ourselves without any agenda.

Any other sounds I should be listening to? Don't tell me about songs - song lists and instrumental music list will be up in sometime.

Nothing but the truth...

Why did I not blog for almost a month?

I was making a note of all pubs I will visit in a few months time...


In a beautiful country which may adopt me...


After discovering infinite shades of blue and green,


I went to a dusty place in Mumbai, where monkeys chased me and my friends like vampires in some B grade movie...

We had to run shout and throw stones at the simians. Sorry SPCA; it was either fight or flight.

Then sleep, eat, sleep, gossip... some days of lazing around with one's gal pals...

Oh... did I tell you about the rafting days thanks to my employer? Bless them all!


After the travel, it was back to work... some more meetings, catching up with friends, some good and not so good movies...

Now after another trip to College Street where second hand book sellers invite me to ferret into their hordes and hand me their mobile numbers; where they had me profiled so much that they know exactly what price I will give them,

I guess I have answered life's call.

Let me have those experiences for myself. I wont be sharing them with you; well - atleast for now.

You want to see more pics, let me know.

And yeah, I know the formatting sux. :-)

Happy fish, sad fish

I miss Chennai.

The udupi hotel food, the low priced fruit shakes, the sea and the besant nagar sea bridge, the east cost road, the friends i had there, satyam theatre and Spencer plaza, the rains, the bike rides....

I miss Kerala.

The backwaters, the greenery in lavish abandon, the fish, the food, the underrated malabari biriyani with an egg, onion raita and yummy lemon pickle, the different pickles and fried tapioca, jackfruit, and what not, mashed tapioca, esoteric mallu breakfast of puttu, payar, kozhukatta, ada, jackfruits, various kinds of bananas, elephants, Rs 30 movie tickets...

I miss Jamshedpur.

The running into terabytes online movie collection, the roadside food experiences, the nights where i learnt to dance, the few friends and many acquaintances, the campus dogs, the beautiful streets and the houses, the riverside....

I miss Gurgaon.

The people in that office, the friends I have left there, the movies, the shopping malls, the hep eating and drinking holes, the all night parties, the all night drinking and talking sessions with work friends....


I will miss Kolkata.

College street, city centre, the old dilapidated houses, the white jamun, the roadside snacks whose name I always keep forgetting, the work, the responsibility that made me grow up....

I don't miss Chennai.

The dirt. The lack of water. The sweat.

I don't miss Kerala.

The leching men with hands like the tentacles of Medusa, who grope and grope and grope - till you either hit back or move away if possible. The apathy of the people around me. The pseudo intellectual crap of the arm chair activists which somehow irks more than the blatant commercialization of other cities.

I don't miss Jamshedpur.

The trying to fit in. The trying to be overly loyal and patriotic. The trying to put friendships and personal opinions above what needed to be said and done. The most times phony feeling of belonging.

I don't miss Gurgaon.

The feeling of being shouted at. The conflict between wanting my life back and not wanting to hurt my friends. The inability to again, take a stand for losing a friend. The overpriced everything.

I wont miss Kolkata.

The lack of friends. The people who try to make me dole out more just because I earn more. The selfishness and self centeredness of people whom I have met, interacted with, and who still think that they are doing me a favour. The lack of a shoulder to lean on at time, for sometimes professional and mostly non-professional guidance.

Plans for a journey

I have decided to pack my bags and be off. I plan to take a break during late April / May. I want to be either close to mountains, the sea or some old buildings. I would prefer to tour India, Srilanka or Nepal. It would be as economical as possible - local modes of transport, eating local food - except for stay.

I am looking at anything from 3 to 7 days. I would like to have company on this trip. Given that many people read my blog, let me know if you - yes, I mean you - would be interested.

Perfect strangers / first time visitors to my blog need not reply to this. Your gender or sexual orientation does not matter. I am looking for a person with whom I would feel safe enough to share a room (and vice versa) . And I really dont think that physical intimacy happens on autopilot when two people are staying in one room. No. Nyet. Nada.

What I am looking forward during these days:

Eating & drinking local food - but strictly hygenic food
Some amount of shopping, if possible - now now... give me brownie points for being truthful...
Taking many good pictures - arbit and random pictures, mostly.
Exploring the less travelled local roads - walking, tractors, bullock carts, camels, elephants, boats... I am open to them all.
Some time smack in the middle or far away from the madding crowd - I'm a girl of contradictions : live with it.
What you can expect:

Change the travel timetable midway : If you want to loiter, linger, feel free. I am not taking a watch along for these days.
Have local 'friends' : As long as your casual flings do not encroach into my living space, I will be fine whatever you do.
Go crazy : Because on the craziness meter, I can match you notch to notch.

What you cant expect:

Getting lucky with me
Expect me to drag you out of crisises created by your own stupidity - esp if it involves an armed crowd of pissed of localites.


If you like the plan, feel free to drop a comment. I'll be in touch.

There she (and he) goes...

In Finland now.

It is a desolate place. Lonely, lovely lady. Not much jewellery, but regal in her simplicity.

The houses look alike... and brings back the memory of old USSR picture books where it was a Koshka or an Olya or Misha who had fun in the Birch woods. They evoke the old sense of wonder, of magic in mind. Narnia, here I am. Fairies and Hobbits, I am in your land.

The sun was good to us he stayed longer than usual. The wind was kind - she did not try to freeze us to death. The rain decided to stay away, and so did the snow.

Hanukkah candles and Christmas lights peeped at us from every window.

Met with a friend and his wife yesterday evening. He works in the same company, and they picked me up from my hotel and took me to theirs. Leaving him to scratch his head over work, we left for the nearby shopping mall. The displays, the decorations, the precocious kids.... women can spend time in companionable silence yearning over very many things and light hearted banter over men.

Back to their hotel. My friend is still at work, and later - after some Irish Whiskey and exchanging notes over some authors, we left for dinner.

Surprise, surprise! Finland sleeps very early. At 9 pm, our only option is an Indian restaurant. We get inside, and are greeted with a menu which has a Kashmiri dish with coconut ( err.. hello?? when did they start having coconut trees in Kashmir? ) and a remix video which is more soft porn than anything else.

"Seesh... no wonder the MNCs are coming to India.."

"Yeah, they think this is what they get back there.." my friend snorts, completing his wife's comment. They sit together in a booth, looking more like college kids than married couple.

After a meal which was surprisingly better than what we expected, its a short walk to the taxi stand for my cab.

There they go. Two Geminis, born on the same date; one tall and kiddish, the other petite and mature. Little does they know, but they did make a very convincing case of getting married and waiting for six years to get married to the right guy.