When I say I am growing up with June I really mean it. Both of us had our first tryst with the law on Sunday. It was our first visit to the Police Station and thank god it was Frasertown Police Station.
Built on a donation by some Colaco brothers it is what police stations in India are not like. I didnt find any criminal in the lock up. The toilets were so clean. And the adjacent garden equally well maitained by ITC Infotech. The moment we reached there a smiling receptionist was ready to answer our queries.
Our job was comfortably done and it served as a nice field trip for June. For June "police uncles" are those who scold everybody if they do something wrong. One of the few things which still scared here.
She was very sceptical initially about the visit. But by the time she came out of the police station all her fear had gone. And Munmun was left with one tool less to scare her.
Infact that's one "Juju" less for both of us.
Why cannot life be always so simple?
Dec 21, 2006
Dec 20, 2006
Bhaiyaji
Bhaiyaji is Neeraj's elder brother. And Neeraj is Opu's one time colleague. Somehow we have been in touch. Neeraj is from Bihar and he is has a very straight way of looking at things. Thats why I was not surprised when he called me up the other day to tell me that he and his Bhaiya are opening a restaurant in Bangalore.
I went to the opening ceremony and was amazed to meet his Bhaiya. He has apparently never stayte in a big city and has no experience of running a restaurant. He has come here with 5 people from Bihar.
But he looks so positive. For someone like me who finds negativity even in the best news that I receive, that was important.
Its a modest outlet right next to the Innovative Multiplex. It is called Magadh Restaurant and is right opposite Adishwar Electronics shop. Bhaiyaji also wants to do corporate catering and tiffin services.
They are promising an exciting North Indian fare with cooks who cannot speak any south indian language. 30 for veg thali, 35 for an egg thali and 45 for chicken. I think its great.
It felt nice when Neeraj invited me. He thinks because I am a foody I can give good suggestions to Bhaiyaji. God save their resturant.
We had litti and sattu ka paratha. And I was impressed. Not only by the food but also by Bhaiyaji.
There is a lesson in it for me.
I went to the opening ceremony and was amazed to meet his Bhaiya. He has apparently never stayte in a big city and has no experience of running a restaurant. He has come here with 5 people from Bihar.
But he looks so positive. For someone like me who finds negativity even in the best news that I receive, that was important.
Its a modest outlet right next to the Innovative Multiplex. It is called Magadh Restaurant and is right opposite Adishwar Electronics shop. Bhaiyaji also wants to do corporate catering and tiffin services.
They are promising an exciting North Indian fare with cooks who cannot speak any south indian language. 30 for veg thali, 35 for an egg thali and 45 for chicken. I think its great.
It felt nice when Neeraj invited me. He thinks because I am a foody I can give good suggestions to Bhaiyaji. God save their resturant.
We had litti and sattu ka paratha. And I was impressed. Not only by the food but also by Bhaiyaji.
There is a lesson in it for me.
Dec 8, 2006
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.
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.
Nov 28, 2006
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.
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.
Nov 20, 2006
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.