Nalinima

Nalini Krishna Rau 13th December 1908 - 30th July 2005

Nalini Rau, variously known as Mrs. Rau, Nalinima, plain Nalini, Aunty, Aaji, and by a few select people close to her, as Chockie Monster (on account of her inordinate fondness for ice creams and sweets in general and in particular the cocoa based variety!) didn`t eventually achieve her goal of hitting a century but she almost managed it. Just about three and a half years off the mark.

Nalinima was my grandmother, whom I used to call just plain Nalini till I was about four years old and until a friend of the family, shocked at my audacity, insisted I show some "respect" for those older than me. To appease her on that occasion I finally threw in the "ma" at the end and this is what she was mostly known as. Good old Nalinima.

Loving, generous, funny, intelligent, yet often very silly, open minded and still prejudiced in some ways. Infuriating at times, talkative, demanding. And through all that, somehow always cuddly and loveable. (At her tallest she was barely four feet eight inches off the ground).

At this point there seems to be not much else to say, except she died in peace. Am only sorry I wasn`t around. But she seems to have chosen a good way to go and I am grateful to the people who were with her at the end and to all those who helped with the arrangements when it was over.

Turkey in retrospect

Snacks to go with wine and beer. Izmir roadside pub. They serve sticks of carrots mostly dipped in lemon juice.

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In some ways it is good to be back in Europe. The streets in Turkey are almost as bad as in India, so to get back to pavements which are walkable is such a relief.

In retrospect I didn`t get to see as much of Turkey as I suppose, a “normal tourist” would have done. And there is really a LOT to see. The Turks share a bloody history with Greece though in recent times, there has been a touch of friendliness between the two countries, especially after the damaging earthquakes which hit both Turkey and Greece when both sides went all out to help each other.

But I made up for the lack of “sight seeing” by getting a glimpse into the lives of the people I met through Ayse. On the whole the Turks are extremely friendly, at least towards Indians. Wherever Bablu and I went we would have people looking at us with great curiosity. In Izmir, as we were leaving the market one evening and heading for the taxi stand, a woman approached us. She started questioning Ayse intensely and even began to follow us, which alarmed me a bit, because I wondered if she were asking for money! Well, it turned out that she was only curious about Bablu and me. She thought Bablu and I were married and Ayse was our tourist guide. So to avoid long explanations Ayse just said “Yes” to everything. Eventually the lady turned into a side street and as she went away she blew me a kiss. “It`s the first time I`ve come across an Indian!” she said. (Of course Ayse translated it all from Turkish for us).

As for Gürsel and crew, it was most embarrasing to go to the supermarket or anywhere with them because as soon as you picked up anything they insisted on paying for it. The first thing I picked up on my first trip to the supermarket in Izmir with Gürsel was … guess what? A couple of bottles of red wine of course – which he absolutely refused to allow me to pay for. So then I thought of putting back one of the bottles (the more expensive one) but he didn`t allow me to do that either. Anyway, you guys will meet him and his ex wife Aysegül and Ful who are coming to India for the Jan workshop.

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Living in Turkey is very similar to living in India in some ways, except that on the surface things seem more organised. Shops are similar to those in the west and you get the whole range of foodstuffs which makes cooking so easy. Earnings though, are much less than in Europe so most of the middle class people don’t really splurge but live quite restrained lives, in terms of eating out and so on. But from just looking at them, you cant really tell apart the poor from the rich. Kader for example, comes from a working class family. About four or five of them live in two small rooms, says Ayse, though looking at her you would never guess that.

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The food is great. Very much like Greek food of course. I loved the stuffed vine leaves, (dolmas), which you eat with dollops of garlic flavoured yoghurt. They stuff vine leaves, capsicum and aubergines with all kinds of things from tomatoes to mince meat to zuccinni. The kebabs were great too. Lamb and chicken, done perfectly. Fish is more rare and also expensive. And olives are a must with every meal, especially breakfast. These days they even market “diet olives” with low salt content.

The service in Turkey is also very good. Ayse claims that because the Turks were never under foreign domination, the way India and other countries were, they can afford to serve without feeling inferior. The waiters at most of the restaurants were exceptional. During our first outing in Instanbul, for example, at a fish restaurant in a very picturesque alley, the waiter seeing me get out of the car came and helped me. We decided to sit outdoors. When we had been seated for a while, it became quite cold so he actually came out with two woollen shawls which he draped over Ayse`s shoulder and mine. (Bablu of course felt most left out and kept grumbling about how badly he was being treated).

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Turkish coffee is this thick dark brew which is normally drunk after meals and which mostly tastes of coffee grounds. It is also the custom, after you finish drinking your coffee, to turn the cup upside down and when the cup has cooled, to read your fortune in the grounds. Well, we tried that and attempted to get the waiter in the fish restaurant to read our cups but he refused, saying he didn’t indulge in this nonsense because it was dangerous! So Bablu, Ayse and I decided to read each others fortunes. So here goes: (Ayse`s cup):

Bablu: Looks like a small hill.
Uma: Hmmm
Ayse (peering) what does it mean?
Uma: maybe it means that you have a problem but you will get over it?
Bablu: Hmmmm. Yee..eees. Now can we go on to mine?
Uma: Looks the same as Ayse`s. There`s this small hill here and look – there`s this bridge. There is a bridge in life which you have to cross.
Ayse giggles.
(This is her normal response to most things. When we visited the Sultan Ahmet mosque in Istanbul we suggested getting a guide but she said that was ridiculous, she could tell us whatever we wanted to know. But each time we asked any question, whether to do with dates or with architecture she would giggle and say “I don’t know.” Finally we compromised and bought a guide book.)
Back to coffee grounds and to Bablu`s cup.
Bablu: Bridge? Hill? I don’t know yaar. Maybe.
Bablu: OK so lets move on now to Uma`s fortune.

We all peer intensely into my cup. Bablu turns it round several times. So does Ayse. I examine the grounds, hold my breath.

Bablu: Looks like a lump of shit.
Ayse: Yes, really it does. It looks just like a lump of shit.
Uma: Hmmmm. Yes truly it does. But so do yours you know, your cups don’t look any different. All looks like shit to me.

Anyway, this alley where the restaurant was, (in a district called Kumkapi,) whatever it is called, I would have renamed it Cat Alley. There were any number of cats, tabby, ginger, black and white, meaowing and prowling around for scraps. The cats here look more like our Indian cats rather than the sleek well fed European cats.

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Well that was our first evening out and it was a great beginning. We also got a taste of belly dancing in a night club which Ayse took us to in Istanbul and boy! Do they shake their bodies!! The whole thing is one quivering mass of flesh, those women have tremendous control over their muscles for sure. And like in India there were some enthusiastic and probably drunken men stuffing currency notes into the dancers`bras.

The cafes and restaurants are strangely separated in Turkey, I found out. You have hookah cafes, for example, where you only get hookahs and tea or coffee or soft drinks and there are bars where you only get beer or other types of alcohol with some snacks, like peanuts. Then you have kebab joints which don’t serve alcohol. You have “game cafes” where you can play various board games and where they also serve coffee. Of course this doesn`t apply to the expensive and swanky places I suppose which serve everything.

Well that is it about Turkey for now. If anything more occurs to me I`ll add it.

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Turkey photos

Back in Cologne now and trying to get some photos into the blog. Let`s see how it works out.

One of many delectable cafes in Turkey, where young and old meet for a chat and for a cup of cay (pronounced chai and which is a stronger version of our Indian tea, drunk without milk). This one is in Izmir.

In Izmir, by the seaside. Aysegül puffing away at a cigar while the rest of us stick to hookahs. (We tried the melon flavour which was not half as good as the apple or capuccino.)


In Ankara, Ayse`s father Mr. Arkan with me and the fashionable Kader.

Ful and her daughter Gül. When you ask Ful what she is doing she says with a noncholant shrug, "Nothing." Gül is a student in Istanbul and Bablu has invited her to India because he is convinced she will be snapped up by the movie directors in no time.


















Above you find Bablu getting his ears pierced (with diamond studs) at a market in Izmir. He said he had been wanting to do it for ages and never dared.

Below is Gürsel, the doctor, music and photograph collector about whom I`ve already written.

Ankara

Thıs Turkısh keyboard is a real mess. From the English keyboard to the German to Turkish! It all seems to come out garbled so I hope what you see is at least somewhat intelligible!

We arrived ın Ankara on the 20th after seeıng Bablu off at the international airport. Ayse's father lives in a very fashionable part of Ankara called Kavaklıdere, with a street full of swanky shops just around the corner. Mostly like on Warden Road in Bombay, they are clothes and shoe shops and there are also lots of jewellery shops.

Ayse's dad (Mr. Arcan) lives ın this posh building which ıs part of a complex of three buildings. His apartment though has an old fashioned look. Lots of ornate furniture and drapes and sofas in dark velvetty brown covers and walls covered wıth floral wall paper. A's dad has lots of photos of Mustafa Kemal Ataturk pinned up on the walls and cuttings from various newspapers. He is quite deaf but talks for hours and hours - mostly in Turkish, with Ayse. Then out of the blue he turns to me wıth fiery eyes and says something lıke 'Then the Brıtısh gave them shorts and they were very angry and ...' he twirls his little finger near his forehead to ındicate madness and fıxes me with this indıgnant look as if expectıng me to not only understand what he is saying but also to agree with him. Well at least now I know where Ayse ınherits her propensity for talkıng!

Yesterday Ayse, Kader and I went to the old part of Ankara, to the Fort and the museum. Kader is the girl who works for Ayse's father - cooks, cleans and generally looks after the house. She comes in at about 10 in the morning and leaves at 5 pm. She is young and extremely fashionable. Mostly in hipster blue jeans and a short top exhibiting two inches of slim midrıff. She has a very fancy hairstyle - long hair pulled over to one side and a red or a white rose (artıfıcıal) tucked behind her ear.

The museum of Anatolian Civilisatation was interestıng. We saw a lot of artefacts dating back to more than 5000 years BC! Wall paintings, arrow heads, figurines of women (mostly fat and squat with more than a passing resemblance to Ganesha). Also tablets wıth the earliest form of writıng. Chandran would have loved it and asked a million questions.

The old fort is quite a climb up but worth the effort. Inside is a lovely vıllage and the people carry on with their daily lives quite placidly. There are of course the usual shops and cafes - we stopped for a lemonade at a really nice cafe, wıth stained glass windows and floors covered with persian rugs and the walls decorated with colourful wall hangings. The seating ıs mainly on the floor but they also have a few benches covered wıth rugs to sıt on.

After we got going again, a couple of small boys followed us around and plied us with bits of historical information (a lot of which sounded made up) for which Ayse rewarded them with a few coins. They were most happy.

Along the way we passed shops which looked like our own grocery stores, selling soft drinks and potato chips - even the same brands - eg. Lay's!! There were others sellıng carpets and bags and silver and brass bowls. In the courtyards of the houses we saw women sitting around, knittıng or peeling vegetables or doing housework. All very homely.

The traffıc in Ankara is terrible. Nobody stops at the Zebra crossıng and in fact there are hardly any. The streets are also typical third world (or Asian?) streets. Broken down and with the pavements about one foot off the ground.

Now in a while Ayse and I will continue with our walk. More nex time.

Monday 18th July 2005

More sıghts and sounds of İstanbul. Thursday we vısıted the Topkapı palace. Yaşır who drove us there saıd he had seen ıt hundreds of tımes already and was bored wıth ıt so he sat outsıde whıle Bablu, Ayse and I went ın. The palace grounds are vast and fılled wıth trees and lıttle stone seats around them where you can relax. There are so many dıfferent rooms ın the complex - the old harem, a museum, what they call the 'castratıon room' among others. Whıle we were there we saw a handsome young mullah recıtıng prayers. He was ınfınıtely more tuneful than the one at Hajı Alı Dargah who sounds lıke a sermonısıng frog.

Topkapı actually means ‘canon gate’. It ıs the old palace of the sultans who ruled İstanbul. There are rooms and rooms fılled wıth all kınds of jewels – emerald and ruby and dıamond studded glasses and bowls and swords and egg cups. All kınds of thıngs. Seeıng the clothes of the emperors we decıded that the rulers of those days must have had huge bodıes and very small heads because the necks were so small.

Bablu soon decıded he couldn’t stand the crowds so mostly sat outsıde on one of the numerous stone ledges catchıng up on a smoke whıle Ayse and I nudged our way through throngs of excıted Japanese and Koreans and Greeks, Italıans and Amerıcans constantly takıng photographs of the objects on dısplay and constantly beıng chıded by the guards on duty for doıng so. There were even a few sarı clad types shufflıng around and many women ın Burkha whıch got Ayse very excıted. ‘It ıs horrıble,’ she saıd. ‘They look lıke shıt flıes – you know bıg black shıt flıes whıch you always fınd around the garbage dump.’ I am only puttıng ın thıs quote because Ayşe herself comes from a Muslım famıly or I wouldn’t dare.

In the afternoon we had lunch wıth a former busıness colleague and frıend of Ayse’s – Istan. He owns a fırm called ‘Sera’ which ımports and sells all kınds of foods ın Turkey – from pıckled onıons and gerkıns and pastes, chıllıes, to drıed fruıt and garlıc ın vınegar etc. Also shampoos and soaps and wınes. We took a look at and were suıtably ımpressed by hıs warehouse. Istan ıs the one who lent us hıs car and drıver (Yaşır) to go around Istanbul.

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On our last afternoon we drove across Istanbul to the Bosphorous rıver whıch ıs the dıvıdıng poınt between Asıa and Europe. Imagıne crossıng over from one contınent to the other ın a couple of mınutes! That ıs what we dıd when we took the ferry to the east sıde of Istanbul whıch ıs ın Asıa, to vısıt Ayse’s aunt and uncle – Fatısh and Oktaı who lıve ın a very nıce apartment wıth a lush vıew of a garden from the sıttıng room. Oktaı ıs an artıst and sculptor and also a cartoonıst and entertaıned us wıth samples of hıs cartoons whıch were very good and dealt wıth daıly lıfe ın Istanbul. Fatısh wouldn’t let us go wıthout eatıng so we were plıed wıth grapes and cherrıes and dıfferent kınds of bread.

We took the ferry back at about half past ten and Bablu and I got a hamburger at the fast food stlall at the jetty, before goıng back.

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In Izmır we have been stayıng wıth Ayşe’s frıend Ful (whıch means flower ın Turkısh) and her frıend, Ayşegul. Gürsel whom I had mentıoned ın the last maıl – a doctor – was marrıed to Aysegül who dıvorced hım a few years ago and ıs now lıvıng happıly wıth her gırlfrıend Ful. And everybody seems to have adjusted quıte well to thıs sıtuatıon. Ful and Aysegul lıve ın a very nıce apartment overlookıng the gulf of Izmır. On both sıdes you see hılls whose slopes are covered wıth houses. Most of the houses are whıtewashed wıth red tıled roofs. Here and there you see the dome of a mosque shınıng sılver ın the sunlıght.

Our conversatıons and dınners extend late ınto the nıght. The earlıest we have been goıng to bed ıs at 2 AM! The breakfasts are fabulous. Bread and feta cheese and other kınds of cheeses, sausage and dıfferent kınds of olıves and small green chıllıes, jam, and fruıt lıke melons and water melons.

Hookah smokıng ın Turkey ıs also very common. Day before yesterday, Gürsel tooks us to the waterfront, to a café where hookahs are offered and we ordered a melon flavoured hookah. Later we crossed the road to go to another place to drınk wıne because apparently alcohol ıs not allowed on the sea front! Gürsel who had gone for a shower seeem to be out now so I am endıng. Oh yes, he says HI to all.

Istanbul

At last!! After two hours of tryıng have fınally got the page! Internetın Turkey ıs eıther very slow or some pages just dont open.

In Izmır rıght now, wıth Ayse,s frıend Gursel who ıs the only one who has an ınternet connectıon at home.Gursel ıs doctor and also ınterested ın the work we do - the workshops etc.

The last two days ın Istanbul were packed wıth sıghtseeıng. Dıd the usual rounds - Sophıa Hgıa, the ancıent Roman church later taken over by the Muslıms and tunrned ınto a mosque. CUrrently a lıbrary and museum wıth thousands of vısıtors. You go through a serıous securıty check to get ın, lıke ın the aırports. It ıs quıte an ımpressıve buıldıng wıth gardens around ıt and opposıte ıs the mosque of Sultan Ahmet, I thınk they saıd ıt,s the bıggest ın the world and wıth sıx mınarets.

We dıd the bazaars whıch were very entertaınıng. They are colourful and crammed wıth all kınds goods from carpets to hookahs. The carpet sellers were at us to vısıt them. 'Come look at our carpets!' Ayse shook her head and one guy saıd, 'It wont eat you!' Another saıd, 'Really, they are not dangerous!'

We lunched at one of the old restaurants ın thıs arched walkway. The lıghts went out as soon as we entered and came back on when we were ready to leave. THe food was good. Authentıc kebabs whıch we ate wıth bread and buttered rıce and salad.

In the spıce bazaar whıch we went to later, we were followed by shouts of 'Shahroukh! Shahroukh!' We realısed ıt was Bablu they had jokıngly referrred to! Two guys standıng behınd a mound of very ıntrıguıng lookıng spıces were wavıng at us. So we backtracked and they got themselves photographed wıth Bablu. When they learnt Bablu,s real name they saıd, 'OK. So we call you Shahrouk Bablu Khan!'

The people here are extremely frıendly. All you have to do ıs smıle at them and they ımmedıaately follow ıt up wıth questıons about where you are from and what you are doıng etc.

Thıs mornıng we flew to Izmır where we mıght have a workshop. Izmır looks lıke a very modern cıty, parts of ıt very remınıscent of Bombay. Gursel tells me that actually ıt ıs very old, the foundatıons of the cıty go back 5000 years but thıs herıtage has unfortunately not been maıntaıned.

Well Gursel ıs brıngıng me some coffee now so I wıll end thıs. It ıs quarter past seven ın the evenıng and soon we wıll head back to where Ayse ıs.

Turkey Notebook 1

Fınally ın Turkey! The hotel gıves 15 mıns free ınternet servıce so thıs ıs goıng to be a real quıck one. Istanbul ıs lıke somethıng out of the Arabıan nıghts. Arrıved yesterday. The aırport ıs as skıck as any ın Europe and you feel you could be ın Germany - untıl you get ınto the cıty and experıence the narrow cobble stoned roads and shops and restaurants and the whole atmosphere. Domes and mınarets wherever you look. And shopkeepers callıng you and tryıng to sell you thıngs from carpets to lockets. Come buy a carpet! One guy saıd to me and I saıd No. So the guy goes But why not. (OK I cannot locate the punctuatıon marks on thıs keyboard and have not much tıme to look so excuse lack of commas and full stops etc.)

A broad boulevard leads out from the aırport to the cıty lıned wıth trees untıl you come to the sea and then there ıs thıs broad promenade where people stroll around or sıt on the grass. everywhere benches somewhat semı cırcular ın desıgn whıch are nıce for famılıes or groups of people to sıt. And chıldrens slıdes and swıngs etc.

When we got tot he hotel Ayse got ınto a longwınded dıalogue wıth the receptıonıst and Bablu complaıned that he was gettıng a headache lıstenıng to them. Whats the matter he muttered. ıs there a problem? Well ıt turned out that the receptıonıst and her colleague were very ınterested to know ıf Indıans drınk tea and ıf so what kınd and would we lıke to have bed tea brought to our room ın the mornıng!

We dıned out at a fabulous fısh place. More tomorrow maybe ıf I fınd a good ınternet coffee.

Weekend in France...

Back from Lothringen last night. Seems like one never ending car ride from one place to another, past extensive wheat fields and hills planted with vines and stretches of forest. Cars whizz past at stupendous speeds. In Germany I believe there is no speed limit so you can do over 200 km per hour.

This morning the coffee machine would`t work and Ayse and Bablu were still asleep. Heinz had left for work so I waited patiently and decided to get on with some mailing. Now Ayse has surfaced. Hope we are going to stay home and rest a bit today before flying off to Turkey tomorrow!!

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It has been interesting though and as soon as I can upload the photos I will, on the website, for you guys to have a look. On the way to Lothringen, we stopped to have lunch with a friend of Bablu`s, from his “Young India” (communist) days. Dorothea is a midwife. A robust, talkative 58 year old woman, married to (or living with – I am not sure) Michael, who is seventeen years younger than her. He is a gardener and works right now in the administrative section of a nursery where they send plants off to various parts of the world. They live in a place called Giessen, about an hour and a half away from Cologne.

Lunch was simple and superb, roast potatoes with vegetables sprinkled with herbs and a dip to go with the potatoes. A lush salad topped with a yoghurt based salad sauce and to end with, an even more luscious cake studded with bits of a fruit whose name I don’t know in English – it is kind of star shaped and a bit sour – and horror of horrors – the cake (a kind of sandwich) was filled with CREAM. At first Ayse and I both said we would have only a half portion, the dessert being so rich etc. that we would have to share it with someone. (“No, no. It really is too much etc.”) One spoonful down and there was no more talk of wanting to share and in a few minutes we had both emptied our plates and were sitting back in our chairs with a slightly goofy expression on our faces.

Dorothea and Michael live in a HUGE framework house with a huge garden absolutely spilling over with all kinds flowers in a variety of shades of lilac and yellow and red. The ground and first floor of the building are reserved for Dorothea`s clients who normally come in about a week before the date of delivery. Dorothea follows the case through for a year after the birth. We spoke a lot about childbirth, the natural sort as opposed to hospital born deliveries. Dorothea says that in Germany over 55 per cent of the deliveries are Caesarian and the doctors actually recommend it, so as for the woman to “protect her love channel”!!

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We reached Lothringen late at night, around 9:45 and others were also beginning to troop in. So we had a late dinner of bread and cheese and cold cuts which had been left out for us by our hosts, since there was no fixed dinner time that first evening. Ariela and kids and Thomas arrived and after dinner when most people had retired and Felix was in bed, Ariela proposed we open a bottle of wine, to which I readily agreed and we talked over a few glasses of red wine, late into the night.

This place where we stayed is stupendous. Very quiet and very well organised. Ellen and Albert, the couple who own it, have their own workshops on the premises which they also rent out to others. Back of the house is a sprawling garden at one end of which is a big tent with a warm swimming pool. They bought the place over 25 years ago, an old French house dating back to about 1772 or something and over the years they have done up more and more rooms. The rooms are quite plush, carpeted, with latticed windows overlooking the trees, and equipped with central heating (if desired) and shower and toilet.

Ellen has her own workshop at the end of a long and winding corridor on the ground floor, where she makes things out of silk and ceramic and wood. The kids were enthralled and many of us spent a morning there, working on various kinds of stuff. Two little boys, Anke`s sons, were busy polishing stones. I produced a painted silk scarf, and even two year old Felix together with Luisa produced quite a masterpiece of a painting.

The days were quiet and relaxed, we all ate a bit too much and in the evening, Andreas (the singer, who was also there with his son Gabriel and his girl friend Celina) sang and played the guitar while Celina played the bass.

Now we are back in Cologne and Ayse is putting in some hours at the office and Bablu and I are in charge of the evening meal.

Another day in Germany

Feels like home in Cologne. It is past nine and I am just done with coffee and since there were no bananas (which is what I normally have along with the coffee,) I dug into a pear. Meanwhile as I sit here, typical morning sounds emerge from the bathroom where Bablu is clearing his throat vociferously.

Yesterday we watched the movie "Frieda". The third time for me and the first time for Bablu. I liked it as much as ever, it is truly one of the greats.

In about an hour we will be back on the road, again to France, this time, a place called "Lothringen" where we are meeting up with the assistants who work together with Samuel. Ariela is going to be there as well along with the kids and Thomas. The last time I met two and a half year old Felix in Switzerland, he was being taught how to meditate, by his two older sisters, so he would sit cross-legged on the floor and squeeze his eyes shut and go "Aaaaaa...ooooooommm". Then jump up or roll around the floor in less than thirty seconds and laugh delightedly.

We`ll be back on Sunday evening and here for a day (in Cologne) and then we`re off to Turkey on Tuesday (12th).

Back in Cologne

The weather has turned cold suddenly. It`s raining and I dont know if it`s better this way or not because till last week it was so unbearably hot.

Suhail has come down from Paris and we did a session yesterday which he is very enthusiastic about. This evening he and Bablu are planning to cook an Indian (or semi Indian) meal for Ayse`s brother Ali, who is coming over. So Suhail (according to Bablu) is "chief cook for the vegetarian part" and Bablu himself "chief cook for the chicken part" and I am the general dogsbody. (Actually with these two guys in the kitchen it will be an excellent time for me to catch up on mailing since at the current time the comp is being put to half a dozen uses. Mainly by Suhail, busy burning music from Heinz.)

The difficult part about living here is it is rather cut off from the city and from any shopping centre. The closest is 5 Km away which means you are totally dependent on the car. The plus side is that it is very peaceful and you wake up to the sound of birds twittering in the morning and there is a big garden at the back where Heinz has set up a dining set and a barbeque which has turned out a couple of exquisite stuff - sausages, chicken, steak etc.

Ayse has just given me the happy news that in Turkey (which we will be visiting in a few days) it is 44 degrees C. How nice.

Paris Days

Paris. Romantic looking bridges from where you can see boats plying up and down the Seine. Cosmopolitan energy manifesting itself through a variety of skin shades. Faces in all configurations. Small eyes, big eyes, flat and sharp noses, mouths of varying shapes and sizes. Japanese, African, Indian, Bulgarian, Russian, South American, British, and even a few native Frenchmen thrown in for good measure.

Bablu, Ayse and I took the metro from Corentin Carieu in the north east of Paris to Pont Marie in central Paris and walked over to the famous Notre Dame. Ayse couldn`t get over the fact that the thing that first caught our interest, Bablu`s and mine, was a souvenir shop into which we promptly ducked and came out with a variety of knick knacks. At least Bablu did - keychains and lighters and stuff while I bought post cards and ... hold your breath... yet another small bag with the Paris (Eifel Tower) Emblem on it.

As we crossed the garden at the back of the cathedral Bablu asked after the Hunchback. We told him the hunchback existed only in Victor Hugo`s novels but Bablu said, “Come on, there must be a statue of him or something.” We tried to persuade him otherwise but he was loathe to give up on it. Then a small man in a black cloak and a rather rounded back scurried past us and through a side door in the building and Bablu said, “Oh there`s the hunchback!” with an air of great satisfaction, after which we could drop the subject.

We admired the Notre Dame from all sides and I took a picture of Bablu and Ayse in front of the cathedral, with my new digital camera which took me a real long time to figure out. They both grumbled that I had put them into a corner of the frame while the cathedral loomed large in the pic, while I tried to make them understand it was "like that" in works of art.

Bablu`s main agenda throughout was actually food - “So when is lunch?” -a question he would pose every twenty minutes or so as we sauntered around. (If he sees this he is going to deny it of course and is going to try and kill me). The second day we paid an arm and a leg to go on one of those around Paris bus tours starting from the Opera. We had just passed the Place de Concord where the heads of state were beheaded during the French Revolution and a river of blood had flowed for days. Soon thereafter and barely forty five minutes after we had boarded the bus Bablu goes, “So what about lunch?” Ayse had very cleverly brought a packet of those crisp rye bread wafers studded with all kinds of seeds, which she handed over to Bablu with a motherly air. He took it reluctantly and ate it with an air of great disappointment.

The metros are notoriously full and disembarking is quite a challenge as people don’t move out of your way. On one occasion I managed to finally push two people aside and to nimbly hop out, stick and all, even as the doors closed in. (Bablu, already out on the platform, was transfixed - he thought I would be caught in the door!) and Ayse was left behind and as the doors closed and the train pulled out we stared at each other soulfully and hopelessly. We had to wait till she took the train back and joined us!

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We stayed with Suhail and Shasha in their terrific apartment in the 19th arrondisement. It is actually an old printing press converted into an aparment block. The flats have high ceilings, allowing for a mezanine, and Su and Sha have converted theirs into an office and a home theater.

There are potted plants all over and there is a central pillar with a lovely creeper climbing up all the way, with heart shaped leaves. The apartment is just one big room with no doors (only the bathroom has a door and there is the main door of course). The bedrooms have curtains serving as partitions.

We had a riotous time, eating, drinking and making merry (listening a lot to Indian music!) and currently Suhail is with me in Cologne at Ayse`s place and we have been talking and talking …. About the Goa workshop, about relationships, about life and everything. So, yes... at this point everything is in order.

Hope your life is too!