About roots, land and space

I am back to the place we jokingly refer to as 'Bloody India'. The country that I was born - my 'desh'. But i ask myself is India really my 'desh' or is it West Bengal? My grandpa used to be from Opar Bangla (now bangladesh). So my roots go right till there. Or does it go back further?

So who am I? To whom do I owe my allegiance? Does it get decided by birth? Or does it get decided by the langauge one speaks? Which is MY territory? Certainly not the sambar slurping, curd rice eating south of India. So where do I belong?

Is it important to owe allegiance or to have your own territory? I have never understood it. But in Bangalore I do feel displaced some times. Its the same for me to be in Copenhagen or Bangalore or Chennai.

Whenever I talk of going back to my roots it reminds me of Calcutta. I feel I belong there. But I have no longings for this place as well. Nor do I long to settle down there some day. I am happy that I was born in Calcutta and that I spent most of my formative years there. But I am eqally happy and at peace to be not there now. I have no grudges, infact a lot of fond memories. But all that does make me pine to go back.

Is this phenomenon common to our generation? Something which afflicts even the great Amartya Sen who considers himself a citizen of the world. And it doesnt stop there. And it can go on and on till you reach the end of the Universe. I realize that it is futile. What is good is good. What is bad will improve or perish. So there is no point pondering.

Each feels for someone or something based on his instincts. And so long that instinct is not getting doctored I see so reason why someone should be stopped from feeling the way he feels.

Are we moving to a society where land will stop being vital and all of us will have their own virtual space? Physical land always had its limits and thus the central cause for most of our miseries.

Virtual space has no limits. But we still need to eat, sleep and relax somewhere. But 'How Much Land Does a Man Need'? Tolstoy's Pahóm needed just "Six feet from his head to his heels" and may be a little more if he was alive like you and me. And the rest can all be in virtual space.

Going Go-Karting

The last time I went Go-Karting Opu promised never to accompany me. But then I had an excuse. I didnt know driving. Danske Bank employees go Go-Karting once in every month. And the person with the best time gets to keep a trophy for a month. And its not the best finisher but rather the one with the best lap time. And you get 15 laps to prove your mettle.

My team mate asked me if I would be interested. And since in Danmark, I have decided never to say no to anything new or relatively new. So I agreed. But the moment I reached the Go-Karting arena I knew I was in the wrong place.

As is their wont the Danes were all decked up - driving gears of all hue, the right shoes, firejackets and ofcourse matching crash helmets, gloves et al. I wore the smallest gear that was available in the race track.

My confused state of mind was all too apparent on my visage, otherwise why would a had huge middle aged Danish manager come up to me by himself and offer "a basic tip".

If someone wants to go past you let him go. Enjoy the race and dont worry about the time.

Fortunately I was at the end position when the race started. So I guessed there wouldnt be anybody honking behind my back till the first few laps. As the race began I was sure I was in the wrong place.

The first sharp bend and I was into the tyres. The alarm went off, everybody stopped and I thought I would be disqualified. But I was allowed to carry on after they retrieved my car.

4 laps down the line I wanted to quit the race but I didnt how. I carried on with people banging behind me. I could almost here some honking. My formal shoes were not allowing any grip on the accelerator (alteast I now have a reason for not finishing well).

15 laps looked an eternity. I was still trying to enjoy the race. But the car was controlling me, the other drivers whizzing past every now and then.

Among them there was this driver in the red who had gone past me twice before. And he was there again. And suddenly the moment of truth arrived. My Indian ego sparked and I decided not to enjoy the race anymore.

I would not allow him and pushed the pedal (inspite of the shoe). I did not allow him and the rest for the next 2 laps atleast but then my stamina gave up.

The race was finally over. Suddenly I felt that I had these two heavy iron arms. My entire torso was aching and for the first time after coming to Copenhagen I was perspiring profusely.

I didnt want to see my time. But my team mate and this middle aged man was keeping a watch. No it was not a Hollywoodish end - I didnt have the best lap time.

The best lap time was 35.32 secs. But what I saw was very interesting. I had presumably had the biggest gap between the fastest and slowest lap time in a single race. My slowest time was 48 secs or so and nobobyd was slower in a single lap. But my best lap was 38 something and there were people who had worse time than me.

I almost remembered by MA Part I and Part II scores. I am proud to be Gemini.

The Legend of Holger Danske

I was living on a street called Holger Danske Vej (Vej is pronounced as 'way' in Danish). And I was curious to know why would someone name a street on Holger Danske. In the catacombs of Kronborg castle (it is called the Casemates) I discovered the legend of Holger Danske.

The casemates of Krongborg Castle comprises a series of tunnels. You can walk through them, get a real experience of the cellars of ancient castles and get to smell history. There I saw Holger Danske in a deep grave slumber.

Holger Danske or Ogier the Dane (Danske means Danish) is a symbol of Danish pride, strength and bravery. Son of King Geoffrey, once upon a time King of Denmark, Holger Danske was a fighter of immense strength. It is believed that he has fought many a victorious battle for Denmark.

Like all legends he is glorified and commercialised. www.holger-danske.dk is the site of Danish furniture company. I also saw a bus company called Holger Danske and the history at casemates tells me that there are numerous other products in his name (bread, beer etc). Holger Danske sells in Denmark and I was tempted to pick up a t-shirt for June.

Interestingly as with any other legend there was lot of claim to his antecedents. But now Kronborg and consequently Denmark has the legal claim to the legend of Holger Danske. After Hans Christian Anderson, Holgar Danske seems to be the most loved Dane. The former writes in one of his tales

"But the most beautiful sight of all is old Kronborg, and in a deep, dark cellar beneath it, where no one ever goes, sleeps Holger Danske... He sleeps and dreams, and in his dreams he sees all that happens here in Denmark. Every Christmas Eve one of God's angel comes to him and tells him that what he dreamed is true; he may sleep again, for no real peril threatens Denmark. But should real danger come, old Holger Danske will rise in fury... and the mighty blows he strikes for Denmark will be heard throughout the world..."

There is something about legends that give me goose bumps even now (@ 32!!). I like believing these stories (and I truly hope they are true). It makes the world a little bit more fun. I cannot wait to be back in India and download the legend of Holger Danske on June. And I hope she believes in it till long.

Fredriksnagor

Surprised? I was too when I saw this painting of our dear Bengal. Inside the Marine Museum in Krongborg Castle (earlier called Elsinore) I saw this painting by one J. Hammer. It depicts an Indian village overlooking the river Hughli. The Danes seemed to have been there around the late 18the Century.

"During the course of the 18th century Bengali goods, especially cotton fabrics, became more and more important. The Danish Asiatic Company was therefore given permission to set up a trading station called Fredriksnagor by the town of Serampore on the west bank of the Hughli river just opposite the British trading station of Calcutta."

There are few more references to Calcutta and India. The Danes had a trading base in Travancore (for its spices). Below is a model of an Indian peon in the same museum.

I knew about the French (Chandannagar), Dutch (Bandel??) and ofcourse the British but to find that even the Danes had knocked on our doors was quite a surprise. I will be curious whether Fredriksnagor or its remnant is still there in Srirampur.

Run around Danmark

The Frederiksberg Garden (ignore the man in the picture)

Last weekend I was running around the Damhus Sø. Sø is a lake in Danish. The 'Ø' is special about the nordic languages. It more 'oo' than 'o',a little touch and go, like most other sounds here. And my Danish keyboard helps me type that.

Usually I cannot run for more than 2km at a stretch. But the 4 km run around the lake doesnt seem like a strain. It is a beautiful big lake. Its treelined walkway is now completely autumned with dry leaves of different hues. And you can enjoy the ducks and the swans (not the taste but rather the sight) as you run around.

Even in this cold many parents would be out early morning with their babies in toe. Couples would cycle around. On most weekends it will be common to find many Danes out on the roads. And whatever they do they are completely decked up. So if they are running they would be in their complete jogging gears.

So on any weekend you would find many running around the streets, the lakes and the parks of Copenhagen. And unlike in India you will find almost an equal number of women.

But I guess it has something to do with the surroundings. If its so picturesque I guess even folks in India would be out on the roads.

My earlier apartment in Frederiksberg - an upmarket locale in Copenhagen, used to be near to the Frederiksberg Garden. The garden, which houses the Frederiksberg Castle and overlooks the Copenhagen Zoo, is straight out from a picture postcard.

And it used to be another beautiful run inside the garden. So I do not blame folks in India. We have our Cubbon Park, the Gorer math or the Marine Drive. And I have seen some enthusiastic folks out there as well.

Sweden

Øresund Bridge

St. Peter's Church

Malmo Park

Øresund From Top

Malmo Castle

The Nordic Windmill

Turning Torso - Sweden's Tallest Building

I travelled across the Øresund Bridge on Saturday to go to Sweden. Malmo, the nearest Swedish town is beautifully small. For someone like me who has come from a behemothic country with those big gargantuan cities, Malmo is quite a revelation. It is small, it is extremely modern and absolutely deserted.

But first about this bridge to Scandinavia. Øresund bridge is the long desired connection between Denmark and its other Nordic brethrens which was opened a couple of years back. It has a kind of two layered design - 2 rail tracks below and a four lane road on the top. It is possibly (again not sure but Wiki atleast says so) the longest combined road and rail bridge in Europe and zooms straight into and across the Øresund strait.

When it comes to the suspension part of it Kolkata's Vidyasagar Setu will give it strong competition. Infact the cable stayed part of it may be shorter than the Vidyasagar setu and much less spectacular. But when my Greyhound bus zoomed into the 4 km long undersea tunnel and zoomed out onto the bridge I knew what was special about this bridge.

Compared to the Øresund bridge Malmo would appear very staid. But this small town boasts of its own little walking street and hosts Sweden's tallest building. Aptly called the Turning Torso this building takes a 90 degree swirl as shoots up into the sky.

Unlike Copenhagen, Malmo is peppered with Indian restaurants. Either the Indian presence in Malmo is more or the Swedish have a tongue for our spices. But I have vowed not to visit an Indian restaurant when I am out of India. I am trying to make the most of it by eating as much non-Indian as possible. That does not mean I dont like Indian food but this is my time to savour non Indian delicacies.

Malmo is so small you can pretty much walk around the city in a day. And thats exactly what I did. While on our way to the Central Staion we stopped by at the St. Peter's Church. Who is this St. Peters. How come most cities have a church in his name? Like any other magnificent church this one too stands out like a majestic old man who gets better with age but never quite dies.

At the onset I had decided not to focus on the shopping street but rather see the other side of Malmo. The more of history I can get the more it helps me to realize the significance of my time. So we went straight to Kungsparken & Slottsparken - the green manicured expanse just adjoining the Malmo Castle. The highlight here was the Slottsmöllan or the Windmill. This one has been preserved from the Nordic times. And it is quite a sight.

The Technology museum is a stone's throw away from the Malmo Castle. They have a World War II submarine - U31. You can go into it and get an idea of the life inside a submarine. I checked out the kitchen and the toilet (pics to be uploaded later). Most interesting were the old motor cycles, cars, marine equipments, rail engines, torpedos and what not. Works of geniuses who were always ahead of their time but are now caged inside a museum. 3 hours flew by and we were not reading much since it was all in Swedish.

Next stop was the Malmo Castle, the highlight of my Malmo trip. A modern musuem housed inside an ancient castle, happily coexisting, each enhancing the others charm. It houses a make-believe dungeon, slaughter house with sound effects et al. It also houses an aquarium, a reptile museum and ofcourse a modern art gallery. I lingered on till I was driven away at 4 pm.

It was raining outside and it was cold. We did not have too much protection. So it was time to return home to Copenhagen and temporal reality. So back we were by the same Greyhound across the Øresund again.

My only regret - I did not buy a Sweden Tshirt for June. I was too much into the conversion game. But I have learnt my lesson and have vowed not to repeat the act. Bloody Indians.


P.S. I do not have a camera with me on my trip. That is making the trip more mystical you see. Till now I was happily dependent on my colleague's camera and the arrangment was fine. The gem of a person that Anand is, he has forgotten to bring his card reader. So his camera is done for the trip and there is no way I can upload the photos till I am in India. So all photos that you see are placeholders taken from various sites to give an idea of where I went. The same, I hope, will be replaced by the ones taken by me. I am sure all this is driving me closer to my long awaited digital camera.

Just as you take the harbour ride on little boat this Opera House stands out like a monument of modernity amidst all the history of the other building. The shipping giant Maersk is behind this endevour and has spend close to $ 26 billion behind this (please check the numbers i may be wrong.

This is the pedestrian street - an ultimate shopper's paradise and supposedly one of the longest walking street of the world. No vehicles are aloud to ply on this stretch of road. Lots of designer shops and ofcourse the street musicians.

The First Fortnight

It has been a fortnight in Copenhagen. Most of time was spent around the City Center, the town square, the pedestrian street and the new harbour.

Friday the 13th was culture night at Copenhagen. About 300 events were taking place simultaneously across the city. One had to buy a pass of 70 kroners and you could walk into any of those events. And with same pass you could avail any public transport to take you there.

Each year it gets organised by the government here. The city is awake till the wee hours of the morning. Roads are choc a bloc. But it was fun. I went to the Gyptotek and watched some modern dance. I also visited the Round Tower or the Observatory and did some stargazing.

And ofcourse I went to the Museum Erotica. Most of my colleagues were dissappointed by it. But since I quite like museum visits I liked this one as well. Museums help me to go back in time. They help you feel history, realtime. So you know what I mean. But more of Museum Erotica later.

This post is supposed to summarise my first fortnight. I was initially staying in Cab Inn City. It is a very good budget hotel located at the heart of the city. Its a complete service hotel where you need to carry your bags and make your own coffee. Pretty business like and they do not compromise of cleanliness and professionalism.

But a week down the line we moved into an apartment in Fredriksberg. It belongs to Jim, a project manager in Danske. The apartment is functional. There is no TV or Internet, so I am already half into my first book. Its an excellent neighbourhood. But all neighbourhoods in Copenhagen are like that.

Office days are usually routine. The 10 minute walk to the Fasanvej metro station starts at 7:20 am. Till about 8 am it is still pretty dark. And it is getting darker still. Metros run every 2 minutes. So it doesnt take much to reach the Flintholm Street station. From there Bus no. 142 takes me to Ejby Industrivej. Thats where my client Danske Bank is located.

The lunch at Danske is a delight. For people like me who kind of search around for continental food in Indian cities it could not get much better. But details of the same again in a seperate post.
People in Copenhagen work for 37 hours a week. So you start by 8:00 am and pretty much finish by 4:30 pm. In weekends the office is empty by 3 pm.

On my way back home I usually go to one of the many malls around trying to check out the stuff. It is a stressful exercise. Because each time you look at the article you multiply its price by 7 or 8 and then try and find its weight.

Back at the apartment we usually cook. I must say till now we have never been able to get the rice right. Usually its getting overcooked. At most times office follow me at home since my room mates are from ITC. So after rounds of PNPCs its back to bed with a book.

Thats a weekday at Copenhagen for me....

Diary of Danish Dreams

How is it like sitting in one of the most hep neighbourhoods of Copenhagen with soulful Red Indian music playing on your earphones while you tap away on your keyboard? Those who have experienced similar kind of phenomenas would know. Its ethereal. And for the first since landing at Copenhagen I feel like writing.

So here starts my Danish Diary...

Starting Pangs

The airport at Delhi was not one of the best places for a first timer like me. It was worse than our Howrah station. And it did not help that I chose to be ignorant about how much baggage I was supposed to carry. I paid heavily and I felt harassed.

So naturally did not enjoy my first international flight courtesy Air France. A lot was on offer but I had just one meal and no wine. And I slept through my first international flight.

To complicate matters my fellow passenger had some word of advice for me at every stage. Not letting go a single chance to show that they were more travelled than me. The same colleagues never chose to inform me that for Europe you can take only 20 kgs for check in baggage.

But I have promised that my Danish Dairies would not have any scorn or negativity in it. So this is about as much scornful it will get.

What a sight! What a Welcome!

So after a brief stopover at Paris' Charles De Gaulle airport I was on my way to CPH. The food that was served in transit was grossly inadequate. I was waiting for my first jet lag to arrive and was yet to enjoy my journey.

However it was when the plane was about land at the Copenhagen airport I had the first taste of what was to come. Denmark and Norway is connected by the Malmo bridge which kind of cuts across the ??????? sea. From the plane I could see only water with the pillars of the bridg pricking the sky like toothpicks. Slowly the bridge becomes visible. It cuts across the seaand dissappears. As the plane loses altitude it would seem like that it is about to land on water. But just when it would seem imminent the runaway just across the sea would appear from nowhere.
A red carpet getting rolled out. It is some sight and that was my welcome to Copenhagen.

More in next now that I have this Red Indian Music in land of clouds...