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.

+++

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.

+++

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.

+++

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).

+++

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.

+++

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.

++++++++++++

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.

+++

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.

+++

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!!

+++

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”!!

+++

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!

+++

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!

on our way to gay Paree

The first really lazy day since I left home - or at least it feels like it. Ayse and Heinz went early to work leaving Bablu and me at home to fend for ourselves. By nine we had showered and changed and were both installed at the dining table. Ayse had taught me how to use the espresso machine. Very easy, she had said, you had to press just one button among half a dozen different knobs, on the top left side of the machine. I did that, after which it made some alarming noises and gurgling sounds and let out a thin honey coloured trickle. After a minute or so, the coffee started to flow properly. So we had coffee and bread with cheese and ham and we talked and talked and talked.

Bablu wants to get these 200 acres of land on the outskirts of Timbaktu where he is based, to get a new project going. He wants to put up a kind of polytechnic for people to learn various skills and side by side, for us to learn more about living in a community, living in tune with each other. To create a space essentially, for like minded individuals to be together and to look at stuff which is important for us.

The trouble, as usual, is the financing. But I said, the first step is to look at what we want to do, and to discuss it, to work on an outline perhaps. If any of you are interested you could write in, either to me with your ideas: umazon@rediffmail.com

or to Bablu. timbaktu@vsnl.com

We are thinking of meeting there around the end of December, before Samuel`s workshop.

Bablu and I talked also about the need to change our focus, from perceiving everything at the intellectual level to living with more awareness. It has been good, meeting him here. In India he is always so busy!

This afternoon the three of us are driving to Paris where we will meet Suhail. It is a bit crazy come to think of it, driving all the way there for hardly a day and a half - Ayse and Bablu at any rate want to get back to Cologne by the 2nd of July. Still we are pretty excited about it. Paris is one of the most charming cities in the world, and I am looking forward to it.

It rained quite a bit this morning but the sun has begun to put in an appearance in the last twenty minutes.

Oh yes. I bought a digital camera yesterday at one of the bargain shops in Cologne. Fuji, with 5 mega pixel for just about 200 Euros which is quite a steal. It is small and neat looking. Have to still learn to operate it though! As soon as I do you will get pics of all that is going on here!

News from Cologne

This morning it was a riot trying to find a parking spot at the station where Ayse and I went, to pick up Bablu. Bablu was returning from Amsterdam. Well, finally Ayse just stopped in the parking lot and told me to wait and that she would be back in a minute or two, with Bablu.

I said, what if someone comes by and picks a quarrel with me about the way you`ve parked? Ayse said, "Just wave your stick at him and tell him to go away!" Luckily nothing happened and Ayse was back - but without Bablu. Maybe the train was late, she said as she rushed back. Eventually we had to go to a parkhouse and Ayse went once more to the station while I hung around the enormous square in front of the Cologne Cathedral. So many people all walking around. Hordes of school kids, tourists, Japanese, Americans, old and young. The youngsters even skateboard around the place.

Within about 10 or 15 minutes Ayse was back, along with this tall imposing looking guy dressed in pyjamas and a blue striped shirt and a colourful orange waistcoat. Bablu, grinning happily as he walked towards me, rolling his small trolley suitcase behind him.

Had hot chocolate at an open air cafeteria in the vicinity of the cathedral and watched a group of Indians, women in saris and men in safari suits, doing the rounds. We talked about bumping into Indians abroad and how Indians never looked you in the eye when you came across each other. Bablu said he was often greeted by the locals and sometimes invited for a cup of coffee by the Europeans and by the Turks but the Indians? They pretend they haven`t seen me, he said.

Then Ayse dropped me off at the shopping centre while she took Bablu to Bonn, where he has to meet someone at half past three. So now I am in Heinz`s office waiting for them to get back.

By the way Samuel has a new mode of transport in Switzerland. I was sitting on the bench outside the workshop house one evening when he passed by and he went "Look! India!" And when I turned my head I saw this scooter rickshaw standing in the courtyard! It is painted a very chic shade of beige - light and dark beige - and I heard he uses it all the time, summer and winter! It was a gift from friends and members of the Swiss community and it was mainly Ulrike who organised it.

thoughtful

Am sitting here, once again at the window in Sabine`s bedroom, looking at the maple tree and at the factory across the road. Jörg says they manufacture watch parts. At night it looks like the sets of some soulless movie about nothing in particular. The nights are warm and it was past midnight when we walked back home from the farmhouse, where the workshop was being held.

So - the main session is over and boy! I have not experienced something this good for ages. The stillness went deep. The subject was: community and mysticism. What one has to do with the other. I shall write more about it, in time. Have to let it work inside me a bit. Somehow all of you in the group, made an appearance, and there were insights galore. A deep sense of something new growing in spite of the seemingly insurmountable problems.

Well life is life and things will happen, good and bad. Sometimes I think of Sharat and wonder how he is getting on, (and yes, I read that piece about starting to drink again). There is a sense of letting go through it all. Knowing that I cannot really "do" anything to make anyone see or to be different. Maybe it is okay, to be the way you are. Yesterday`s session brought back a deep feeeling of acceptance of the way things are, of the way I am and the way each of you is. What more can I say!

One accepts it all - the people who say they love you and equally, those who dislike or hate you. Often the roles reverse. The people who swear by you one day will badmouth you the next day. One learns not to take it seriously. Neither the praise nor the rejection. Yesterday I learnt something about the unconditional nature of love and that it can come into existence when you have truly put your egoistic feelings behind and learnt to look at what is best for the other person and for the group, for the community, rather than how you can satisfy your sense of self importance. And when you sense this kind of feeling in even a handful of individuals, the deep unchanging internal ties it leads to, it brings hope.

What is the difference between fattening your ego and genunine fulfillment? That is something I guess we all have to learn to differentiate.

India in Switzerland

The first sign my eyes alight on, when we enter the cable car which is to take us to Mount Titnis is - believe it or not - in the Devnagiri script and it goes: "Vishwa ke pratham ghoomthay hoowein gandola mein aapka swagat." WHAT!!!!! But I suppose given the large number of Indian tourists that land up in Switzerland it is logical. The car was crammed with Indians, three quarters of whom were Malayalees. They were all actually based in the U.S.

As we began to ascend the snow covered slopes there was a general "Oooooooh" from the Indians. Kurt, just to tease them roared, "HHHOOOOOOOOH!" and "AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH" along with them and this lady standing next to me giggled, "They are very naaaaty!"

As we kept rising and the view got increasingly dramatic, the older Malayalees started jabbering excitedly in their mother tongue while the kids, round eyed and full of awe, and downright American, went "Holy Crap!"

We didnt have much time up at the summit because we arrived only half an hour before the last cable car was to leave. And right as we were leaving there was a huge thunderstorm and the employees seemed quite worried. We made our way back down in the rain, and with occasional flashes of lightening streaking the sky but as you can see landed safe and sound back on earth.

+++

Kurt - many people say - looks like the twin of that character Spock, in that TV serial whose name I have forgotten - Star something or other. (Talk about getting old). Oh yeah, got it - it is called "Star Trek". I promised him I would pay him my respects in this blog for all that he has done for me (and the group) including making a CD at the crack of dawn this morning, with all the info on the Krishnamurti book by Samuel, which George`s friend is going to soon publish in India. Kurt, hope you are reading this!


The night I arrived at Kurt`s place I was amazed to find him drinking mineral water and some reddish Martini look-alike soft drink although he was kind enough to offer me and Jospeh wine. I learnt subsequently that he`s stopped drinking alcohol - and has kept it up for about 3 months. Well! I asked him how he managed and he said that one day he decided it was too much and made a firm decision to stop. He said that everything depends on that decision. Then, even when one feels tempted, one remembers that there was a decision not to drink and it is not so difficult to remain "clean".

Food smells from Nicole`s kitchen currently (which is where I am currently) tell me that lunch is on the way and I will have to soon stop.

The Creation

Swiss saying: God made the world in six days. On the seventh he made Switzerland. Now, I dont know whether that is really a Swiss saying or whether it is God speaking through Kurt Marti, born and brought up in this spectacularly scenic country, but that is what he told me today as we drove through the Swiss countryside, yet again feasting on the view of snow clad mountains. It was so bloody hot to start with, all I longed for was to sit in an airconditioned room drinking cold coffee or coke all day but Kurt and his friend Doris enthusiastically packed a hamper, sorted out the route by pouring over a map and around ten thirty I was more or less pushed into the car and off we went. Periodically I dozed off - which I frequently do, during any longish car journey - though once I heard Doris say, "Here we`re travelling through all this wonderful scenery and she`s sleeping through it." So I hurriedly shook myself awake and made some appreciative noises (actually it was pretty impressive) and we wound up and down the mountainous roads.

At some point we stopped for lunch and super efficient Doris brought out a blue rucksack from the car and began to unpack it.From it emerged hard boiled eggs painted bright orange, small brown bread rolls, sticks of beef jerky, a plastic containerful of fruit - apples and pears and kiwis and peaches. Cherry tomatoes, and to end with there were small bowls of caramel custard. HO!! Talk about a full belly.

More tomorrow about the trip to the peak we visited and the Indian contingent we met en route. Kurt made me pronounce the name a hundred times, making me promise I wouldn`t forget and now ... it is sitting far away on the self same mountain and refuses to come down into my head. OK i got it from Doris. It is called "Titlis".

Samuel Territory

Ganesha is this dark smokey grey cat - fat fellow with a fat face and small yellow eyes, and a thin, girlish mew. He lives in Adrian`s house and is about 2 years old. Apparently his mother tried to bite him dead and the owner (Daniele Jollisaint) feeling sorry for the poor kitten tried to give him away. Along came Adrian and picked up Ganesh who seems not to bear any marks of his traumatic childhood (kittenhood?) experience. He is extremely friendly and came first thing and prostrated himself at my feet. Adrian was quite amused.

Ganesh has a girl friend called Shanti, a very delicate looking ginger and white cat who comes visiting every evening around dinner time. Adrian says she is wild and only slowly getting used to Adrian petting her. Ganesh and she just love each other and as soon as she turns up they rub noses and she sidles against him and they play around a bit before she settles down to eat.

+++

Am at Nicole`s place right now. Adrian dropped me here this afternoon and this evening we have a meditation with Samuel and Daniele. Ayse is also here, after spending some days with Bablu, who has now gone on to Amsterdam. We will catch up with him after the workshop I guess.

Nicole and Ludwig are having supper in the garden and I am going to join them. Just finished a bread and cheese dinner with Ayse myself. The weather is still very "good." Actually bordering on unbearable heat. Now it is cooling down a bit.

The Swiss part (I)

Mechtilde asked me this morning how it was for me, coming from India to find myself in a country like Switzerland, with such a different culture. Mechtilde is Adrian`s wife and is spending this week in a little town on a lake whose name I have already forgotten, about 3 hours from where they live, in Hünningen. She, along with a couple of others is looking after a group of mentally handicapped young people on holiday ( I refuse to call them mentally “challenged” the same way I refuse to call myself physically “challenged”. As if indulging in euphemisms is going to change society`s attitudes towards anybody!)


I told her that strangely, landing in Europe I didn`t get the feeling I was far from home. Everything seemed, at times, distressingly familiar. One reason of course is the fact that I have been visiting Europe now for so many years that I am pretty much used to the way life works here. But I think the other more important reason is a kind of standardisation that is beginning to set in everywhere that is beginning to dull the differences. In any case I am not here to sightsee or visit museums and castles and all the rest, this visit is more to visit friends and …yes, to be able to walk again, on pavements that are not filled with potholes or other impediments and almost level with the road rather than being eight feet off it.

+++

Back to the Swiss mountains today after what seems like a long time (tho it is not more than two years or so ago, that I was last here). Adrian and I took a very scenic route to get to where Mechtilde was. The mountains are awesome. Giant craggy walls rising almost perpendicular in some places, just a few meters away from the road or at least that is what it feels like. Some of them are just bare rock, some covered with mostly coniferous trees, others still with bushes which make them look like a huge cosmic bunch of Brussels sprouts. And in between very pretty lakes, big and small in all hues of blue and green from cobalt blue to emerald green. Reminded me of the time Christoph and I used to go around in his caravan, parking ourselves somewhere in a field surrounded by mountains, cooking steak on his little portable grill and sitting in the open air on his camp chairs, chatting and admiring the view. Christoph? Chrissie?!He is obviously not listening. Away in Bermuda on vacation – or was it Spain? I am so bad at remembering details about other people`s vacations.


+++

The garden here is very green and Adrian who loves it, is nurturing a number of potted plants including a small olive tree, dill and parsley, lemon grass, a pot of colourful flowers. Right now (its after dinner) he and son Stephan are going around watering the plants. The weather is currently hot and it has become quite dry. You need to drink gallons of water.


+++

As usual we have been talking. Sat up last night till past midnight, looking at the age old questions about individual will and “cosmic will”. How to dovetail one into the other so as to be able to serve “the whole” (eg all of society, or the group one lives with). Why it does not happen and why we end up just serving our own petty little goals and then complaining endlessly about life and the ills of society. Mechitlde also asked me how I felt about the poor people in India. How it felt to be in the midst of a rich society, knowing there were people back home who didn’t have enough to eat. Well. I told her that I feel increasingly unhappy about it but does it help to put all our energy, only into action oriented plans?

It is definitely important to be doing things and to be contributing in a concrete manner to society but on the other hand, without an attempt to change the mindset, the attitudes of people, without bringing more awareness in our lives, all that is not worth much.

Somehow, I said to her, it seems a pity that people who do a lot of social work and who help the poor sections have so little time for any kind of inner reflection – let alone to do this jointly so that we really begin to change our power structures. Not just in the superficial political sense but within ourselves as well. The trouble is that not all the “good work” has changed the way human beings – including social workers – behave towards each other. You come across the same old greed, the same old power struggles, the same old fear and virulence towards each other. Society will surely change, only when we see all of that in ourselves and dissolve the age old blocks in our minds first. Trying to do things the other way round never seems to work.

More from Frankfurt

Went and got my train ticket to Switzerland yesterday morning and Basia came with me. Shall be first visiting Adrian for a fw day or two - someone whom Sharat and George might remember from the December workshop.

After that we spent a few hours at Basia's place. She and Wolfgang live in this really nice big house. Sitting in the dining room you look out onto this sprawling green garden, full of shrubs and trees. Squirrels scamper up and down the tree trunks and all over the garden. I made some chai for us and we nibbled on almond biscuits as we exchanged all the news. Basia spoke a lot about the desert workshop which she attended this April. This time they met in Egypt.

The theme which Samuel and Daniele proposed was Community. To see if it was possible for the thirty people who had gathered together in this desert, to live for two weeks as a close knit community and if not, why not. Apparently when they looked at the "why not" all kinds of things came up for discussion and thrashing out. Resentments, anger, grudges and so on, between the individuals present, so the time was spent really in clearing the air which was very good.

On the last day the assignment was for each person to go out alone into the desert to their favourite spot and to undertake a parting ritual. Basia said her chosen spot was a bit of a distance from camp but she decided to go anyway. Soon after they set out there was a terrific snow storm which obliterated everything. Basia says it was an elemental experience and she was terrified but somehow at the given time she managed to find her way back to the camp.

She was terribly afraid she says, but then she realised that in this case what she thought was fear was not really fear - was more like a heightening of her senses, which helped her to find her way back.

Basia was back in the evening to take back my suitcase with her and we again spent some more time together chatting and this time Sabine was there too as well as Wolfgang (Basia's husband) and Rolf- Sabine's friend. We covered Indian politics and what is happening right now between India and Pakistan, the crazy growth of human civilisation (so-called civilisation) and Basia mentioned how, in nature, there was no such thing. An organism grew up to a certain point and then when maturity was attained, the growth stabilised. The only area where this unlimited growth takes place, she said, was in cancer cells and actually this is what human civilisation has become. Cancerous. How to change the direction? Only through awareness, we decided.

Well we are going to have a late breakfast in a while (it is already 9:45 am) and I hear some faint noise from Sabine’s room which means she must be stirring to life after last night’s excesses. And... sure enough, Sabine just emerged from her room, wrapped in a towel, on her way to a shower, and says HI to everyone.

random thoughts on travel and being in europe

Random thoughts and happenings:


Yesterday evening Sabine and I celebrated our tenth year of friendship and knowing each other, at an Italian restaurant around the corner from where she lives, with Proseco (a kind of ersatz champagne) and a glass of wine. Years of fun, laughter, and MAJOR CONFLICT and making up, of the kind that more or less convinced us we are family. This last year it has been good, we have both loosened up a lot, are infinitely more open to each other and there is this feeling that we are moving in a new direction perhaps. New glimpses of what intimacy really means. A lot of hard work on one’s ego to start with!

++++

Something is definitely happening at Sahar airport. The check in took about 10 minutes altogether, the wait at the immigration counter was even less than 10 minutes and the officials did not ask a single question about my father, mother, grandmother, where they live and work, where they are from, what they like to eat for breakfast, and so on. They didn’t ask any questions. They even SMILED at one or two foreigners whose passports they were looking through. If it doesn’t last long it will at least leave me with a nice memory.
++++

Modern travel and technology is strangely disorienting. Before you know it your body has arrived in a place thousands of miles away from home but by the time your soul has caught up you are already getting ready to return. Maybe that is why, as the bus rumbled around Charles de Gaulle airport I found myself still caught up in thoughts about home until I rapped myself and went, ‘Hey, you’re in Paris now, no longer in flat 11, Rewa Apts!’ But then it could be that everything looks so much the same. Yes the airport seems a bit futuristic with its tube like structures, looking alternatively like a spaceship and a huge soulless factory to help with putting up more factories and more goods and more technology. The ads are the same, the billboards look the same, the people at the airport look like people at any airport, coming and going with this look of intense preoccupation on their faces. I think I must now stop coming to Europe every year and start going to really new places – like China or Chile.

++++

One of the highlights of the five hour wait at the airport was that I saw Sir Cliff Richard. At first I wasn’t sure it was him but I heard the older man by his side calling him ‘Harry’ and then I knew it was him, because his real name is Harry Webb. I felt energetic enough to hoist my backpack on my shoulder and follow him around a bit and even considered going up to him and saying, ‘My childhood hero and prince, you have come!’ But eventually opted to hang around in the background as he and his friend waited at the Air France desk, and until they walked away.
For one short moment our eyes met and I had this feeling he would recognise me and come and shake my hand ("Hallo! My earliest most loyal fan!") but they seemed to be both confused and in a hurry. For those of you who have never heard of him for various reasons (including perhaps the fact that you were born long after his heyday,) Cliff was one of the major singing sensations in the sixties, with a huuu...uuuuge fan following. He wrote his autobiography at the age of 19 (!!!). I read it when I was about eleven or so, and knew it literally by heart.