On the lake, with the winds.

I had completely different plans for 12 hours later, when a phone call from a friend and academically irresponsible decision (I had an appointment with the EM facility) had me travelling to Poland in a car. What had me excited was that it was going to be my first sailing trip. I had been first excited by the idea of sailing on reading Treasure Island, and twenty years on, I had a real chance of sailing. Tomek, the guy who invited me, has no idea how much I am thankful to him for the trip.

We drove about 6 hours to a lake called Drawsko, one of the biggest lake in Poland during the glacial periods. We reached there by late evening, bought food, loaded our boat, and set of to sail.  Even though it was dark and completely incomprehensible as to where we were heading, Tomek, the local guy, knew the lake like it was his home. I did have a look on wikimapia how the lake looked from the sky, but had no idea where we had started from and where we were heading. Moreover, as we went farther into the lake, all the civilisation we could see seemed to float away. The moon rose, we had some light, and the only sounds we could hear were of cows from the Stare Drawsko, the village on the lake, and the gentle sound of the water being dissected by our regatta.  The moon rose higher and we could now see the horizon. In the calm evening waters, the world was symmetrical at the horizon. There were times when it appeared to not move at all. It was only a boat's way to teach you patience.

We parked our boats at a peer on one of the peninsulas on the lake, had our dinner and went to sleep. Of course I did take some pictures. The next morning saw us waking into bright sun and a windy weather, of course, we didn't want to lose the wind and set up the sails, starting right away into the lake. We learnt a lot about the particular boat we were on. It was designed and hand made by Tomek's father, who participates in some sailing races on the lake. The Laba, or 'Leisure' had the tallest mast of all the boats on the lake and was one of the lightest. The tall mast allowed it to catch more wind and at certain windless times, the high winds. This made it one of the fastest on the lake. The regattas have a sword extending into the water, keeping the boat straight against the side winds and providing a net forward vector even at high water currents. The boat direction was changed using a rudder at the back. on going in shallow waters, both the rudder and the sword had to be pulled up accordingly. The winds are caught by the two sails - the front sail and the main sail. The joy of riding the winds using the sail is something I will cherish forever, and I wouldn't spoil the fun for the readers by describing too much into it. But, it is basic physics. 

Sailing on a boat is quite diiferent from driving a car. You do not have a road to know where and how you are going, you have to have a lot of intuition, specially sailing against the wind. Sailing against the wind is never straight. You do not have an engine, to stop when you want and to start when you want. You playing with nature, and winds do not come at uniform speed. You have to know all the ropes on your boat, do multiple things and foresee many things. Tomek was a real experienced sailor, although he was quite young. The reason being he had been sailing on the lake with his father since he was seven years old, and he knew the Laba as if it was his soul. And little lessons on sailing he did give me. I, of course put away my camera, though sacrificing many nice pictures, for the sheer joy of being with the winds, holding them in your hands and riding them.

On the horizon, against the sun, we saw something magnificent. A large number of birds circled around the woods, gathering and widening the circle. They did this for about half an hour, and all of a sudden, they formed an arrow head and flew south. Winter is coming.

We went around many other boats, racing against them one after the other, circling them and teasing them. One couple on their boat were annoyed enough to turn sharply away from their course and go away from us. 

Then we went back to the village, had lunch at a small restaurant. We had the fish from the very same lake, called 'Shelaba'. As the sun crossed the midpoint, the weather grew dark, the wind died down, and the waters calmed. 

We decided to go on to an island on the lake and camp there for the night. We sailed there in the slow wind, with the calm waters like a perfect mirror extending as for as our eyes could see, wondering if it was the same world on the other side of the mirror. Occasional shallow waters did pull us out of our fantasies as we could see the floor, with plants extending upto the surface, schools of fishes circling them. 

We  found a spot on the island, lit a fire, roasted the sausages, and the world seemed perfect, atleast those few moments. We had food, beer and Wodka. We chatted a bit and went off to sleep. The Kazach (the Wodka from Kazakstan, brought by the Russian girl, Anja, who in turn got it from a friend through illegal smuggling from Kazakstan into Russia) put us to sleep. 

Awakening from a sleep from Beer and Wodka could be easily one of the worst combinations ever, specially if you are expected to be active and physically and mentally involved in sailing. The local rule was - a good dip in the ice cold water woke you up from anything. And so I did have the coldest dip in the crystal clear water. 

The weather looked better and again we sailed aimlessly on the lakes, racing against other boats, and learning to make circles with the boat. The boat usually tilts at an angle of 30 degrees, depending ont he speed, and this, Tomek said, was the default position of the boat. 

We then went close to an island, known as the Bird Island, inhabited by numerous birds you could see on the branches. The whole island consists of dead trees. The trees dried up, unable to withstand the poop from the enourmous number of birds on the island. As a child, Tomek said, they would go near the island, and start clapping wildly, and watch the birds fly away from the island. Now, he said, the birds got used to it, and do not fly on clapping anymore.

Soon, our sunday was coming to an end, and we got back to the village, docked the Laba. I had almost, by now, had my nerves feeling the Laba, her sails fluttering and swelling in the ever changing winds, her sword cutting through the water, and vibrating with the catching speed, the horizon tilted against the bow of the boat, the flow of the water against the rudder. We were never afraid to change directions, yet, we had to know where to go. We played with natural forces, yet, respected them. 

Remembering you...

Eyes wide open, I see your impression in thin air, faint and concealed,
I close my eyes, to see you brighter, sharper and conspicuous
All I wish is I open my eyes and see what I see now,
that the memories fall beyond the physical skin and come to existence,
But I keep it shut for this is only as far I can get to see you.

Conflict

The Conflict can only be matched by a conflict.
Tell me, does the world look at me,
and do I look at it, through the same lenses?
Is it the age that pulls me, or do I have a pull on it?
Oh you beautiful thing, Is it you whom I see,
Or is it the dress you wear?
Of what use are the drops of my soul that cloud my eyes?
If you suddenly go away, Do I go away from you?
Dreams of you, in the dreams of solitude, convince you to be mine.
Is it me who has stopped,
Or is it the world that has let me off?
Love, the word, is convoluted.
By Intelligence and Arrogance,
By Society and Piety,
By Selfishness and Selflessness.

-

A bus trip with 'colleagues' in the foreign land.

I wake up, my bags are packed. I remember when I did the same to go to Ganapatipule or some trek in bombay. I check again to see if my camera and lenses are there. I am at Max Planck Institute, on time, few people are already waiting for the bus , and it doesnt seem like everyone has arrived. Of course I dont know everyone here, unlike in Bombay where I almost knew everyone. I see some familiar faces who I think might not give a cold shoulder, and are reasonably friendly. If only I was in Bombay!!!

The bus arrives. A mercedes. Complete air conditioned, no openable windows. I felt the hot breeze on my face when I pop my head out of the open windows of the bombay buses. It used to be so comfotable to puke. in case. Filthy air conditioners. My trip is going to be hell. I think about what would I do if I get motion sick. I had no tablets, and getting tablets here means going to a german doctor, explain him simulating the vomitting body language and riding a bus around him, hoping that he understood what was my problem and give me the right tablets. No. Lets depend on a half cut lemon. When I was a kid and living in southern India, my mami used to give it to me on bus rides, and it seemed to work. So, there I was, with a half cut lemon in the pocket and a polythene bag, for I expected the windows to be not openable and if the lemon didnt do the trick.

By the time I was imagining this, all the safed and few clever brown people had already dumped the bags in luggage cabin and gone and captured their favourite spots in the bus. Great. and then comes the second bus. I have to be fast now. I establish my temporary dominion over a window seat in the middle of the bus, hoping that the window seat will atleast partially simulate similar condition to indian busses and keep me from puking. One indian friend comes and asks me if someone is sitting here. I answer. She has now a 'Do not do this to yourself' face expression on her face. Then she asks me if she can keep her bag there, and she sits infront with some stranger safed girl. I tell her that if she is not sitting, then dont keep the bag, atleast some nice german girl will come and sit. Not that I care about who was going to sit there, but, was I going to maltreat her if she sat there?? Anyway, thats her business, but why does she want to protect the other passengers from me with the bag barricade. Comfortably enough, the seat remained empty. I miss my assistant and many other friends. If only she had been there, I wouldn't need to think so much and not have my ear phones for songs.

The bus starts. utter silence. I pop my head up and have a look around. Everyone seated. no noises. most of them have earphones in their ear. half an hour, I do it again. no sound. I put back my earphones. Zindagi... kaisi ye paheli hai..

random, short, to the point post.

Phone rings ( tune of Dooba Dooba rehta hoon). Picked up.

Me : Hello.

On the phone: lot of German speaking.

Me (interupting): Einschuldigung, Keine Deustch, Sprachen sie Englisch Bitte. (Excuse me, No Deustch, Can you speak in English please?)

Otp: Nein , Nein.

Me: OK wait.

I hand over the phone to my German colleague. tens of seconds of German conversation. 

Martin, very seriously, something like: Eine Moment, Ich fragen er.... (Wait, I will ask him)

Martin: Senthil: Do you want to have fourteen days, free of cost German Newspaper delivered to your home?.

Whole day of work, atleast the Gel ran in the right direction. 

One of my school teachers, a sports teacher, on orkut scrap book, Senthil, Guess what I have for you? 

me: I have no idea. 

Then he posts this painting. 

I had gifted it to him when I was in my eighth standard. The frame is of a broken wall clock that was being thrown away. It has been some 10 years that I gave it to him. It had even slipped out of my conscious memory. I was surprised that he still had it.

 I was telling this to my cousin sis. She said I should start painting again. Yes. Certainly. 

A very good friend whom I was asking for a favour of buying a camera for me in the states (of course I would pay her).

me: blue color

 Mayuri: hahaha

  :)

  yes yes

4:00 PM me: aur bata

  lab kaisa chal raha hai

4:01 PM Mayuri: shush

  let me finish this cam thing

  :)

  stop being polite

  :P

  see this..

 me: shush

There is more I would like to write and boast about how good a friend I have but I guess I wont be appreciated much.

to Aravind Adiga,

I currently live in Dresden, Germany. Its been five months for me. Few months ago, a german colleague asked me if I had read your book. He found it amazing. I thought it was just some book and didnt give it much thought. Then an american came to me and asked if I was from India. He asked me if it was true what you have written in your shot to fame book. I thought I should give it a read. It was when another German friend, went to US, got the book, read it, came back and discussed certain things you have written, that I borrowed the book from him and read it. Even before reading it, I had outrightly dismissed that everything in the book is not so amplified it seems. Whether its true or not Mr. Adiga, I dont like my country potrayed like this and people coming and asking me if it was true. Certainly, the foreigners enjoy reading your novel because the things you describe are strange to them and amazes them. Its entertainment for them.

What you have described in the book, of course is true to certain extent, but its dark. I am not saying that I refuse to see the dark, I say that its too dark for the reality. People who read it, specially for people slightly on the darker side, its not encouraging. There are people, amidst this land of corruption, amidst a mindset of hopelessness you deliver in your novel, who have crossed from the dark to light, without stealing, murdering, without of course yes, i don't support it, but without complaining. Yes of course the problem exists, only in India, drivers can make sweets, can massage their masters, only in India, one guy, raised and educated in Australia, Oxford wheresoever, can come back, look at this things, be amazed, be a little creative and pen down and earn money by potraying his country as dark. I think your novel is an sperficial one, an outsider's view and just an angry burst. India still remains exotic, a place where economic miracles happened despite all we have. Most of the appreciations that you have on the first five pages of your novel talks about your sharp observation skills. You think an average middle class indian doesnt know what going on in his country? he doesnt observe as much as you do? he probably knows more than you Mr. Adiga, but he wouldn't write it down for the future generation to read it and celebrate it. I wouldn't like my brother to read it because it will show him where he is living and one more corrupt fellow, not because of whats there, but because hopelessness would drive him to it. I would like him to fight it the honest way, Like so many young and educated people are doing, like my father did. In a country where the old corrupt population is trying to be replaced with fresh, honest young ones, where younger politicians seem to be coming into business, where recent events have been triggering people to stand up against everything wrong, your novel delivers a dark pulse of hopelessness and discouragement which is not welcome. There are reasons why we are like that, reasons we can correct. when you talk about one of the world's largest population, who were never historically aggressive, who were always peace loving until the modern world came into existence, which was economically ripped down until 50 years ago, its difficult to change courses all of a sudden. it takes generation to steer a counry. You cannot compare India to the west, or Europe. Scientifically, the populations and economy has been different. You believe Indians are in Rooster coops, mr. Adiga, the whole world, save the Russians and Indians are in a Rooster coop. I am proud that despite everything we have here, and not the best, we certainly can do better and we have propelled ourselves to a strong position on our own capabilities. At the root level, yes much job needs to be done. Educating village based populations has been the greatest challenge in a country of vast population, diversity and spread. The government goes wrong in implementing these policies which is where we have to improve. Ten Balrams would have murdered and become a corrupt businessman, but one honest fellow would have thought his part of teaching the poor if he was educated. So the solution lies in educating and imprinting honesty, vision and knowledge in coming generations Mr. Adiga and not justifying and sympathising with murderers turned businessmen, just because a fraction is corrupt. I would have appreciated if you spinned out an Indianised Alchemistic novel, which I had expected when I heard the name ' The White Tiger'. Unfortunately 'The White Tiger' isn't white.

In a country where we have as many languages as in the whole european continent, as many religions as all of the world, we have stood considerably unite. We have withstood forces from outside trying to break us down, we have made ourselves capable protect our people. and yet you have been so insensitive to differentiate the Aryans and Dravidians with so much of subtlity. Mr Adiga, todays politicians and citizens dont need to dig into the past. You cannot afford it. Our cabinet consists of ministers from every region. They have done some amount of good work together, considering what they are. You cannot deny that. In a country where a riot can break out every 100 kms, it doesnt happen, On the whole, our politicians have been considerable enough, leave all the money they waste in the parliament and touring the world, all the money they earn in bribes, to take control of policies of the country as a whole. Not all politicians in our country are corrupt. I consider my country to be in a transition phase and its only becoming better.

If you want to blame, blame the politicians, yes, they are corrupt, thugs and rapists and murderers. We need to replace them. and why did they came into power, because almost all politicians come into power on the basis of their votebanks owing to their caste and local brainwash. Now caste system was always in indian mindset. Its dificult to wipe it out like dust and its taking its time. Our politicians reflect ourselves, in a way. Now, the reflection has been more and more false. Because the reflection we see is from the past., where your novel seems to have been set. Politicians we have are from the time periods they came up exactly as Vijay or Balram in your novel. I appreciate that the Indian governement could manage to keep down the number of such people., considering the situations how India developed since independence. People want to be true and honest. Politicians are not. perhaps it will take time untill we reflect our proper selves again. And people are not coming from dark to light like Balram or Vijay, but there exist a set of grey people, who are slowly coming up, honestly, struggling - yes, but that population is what true India is going to be. If everybody thought like Balram did, everybody can justify a murder, a robbery, do you think its going to be any better? Do you think, as a counry, its justified? India is where it is now because not everyone turned into a Vijay or Balram in you novel. You are the new one in the Indo-internationalist club of writers who can complain and rub your nose in dust, show it and make money , but not think forward about what can be done with the dust to progress.

A life, A time, A moment,

Someday, sometime,

A free thought, A free will, 

When I can do all that I will,

that lies in my nature,

that my past has taught me,

that my past hasn't let me,

That my present teaches me still,

that I think about, about that I plan,

Someday in future when I can,

will have a time, a moment.

someday, sometime. 

A Dream of Memories..

A sudden experience of weightlessness came over me. An experience of having no worries, no responsibilities, no care. The sound of children playing in the street was either very familiar or very real. i decided to continue with the experience. I saw myself playing in the streets of some village with some other children. I felt like I was there, thinking and live. Some part of my brain had already contradicted the events and informed my conscience that it was not real. I opened my eyes to reality. I was on my bed, my thoughts raced back to the present. It was christmas and I was in Germany . I heard the sound of children playing outside. I went to the window and watched them play. I realised I can imagine, but it would never be close to what I experienced in dreams. An experience of memories. I will be again busy with the real world soon.

Lab: A senior to me inbetween a general related conversation about our boss, "of course she gives you a lot of freedom, freedom which you would like, and freedom which you wouldn't like... you would hope she spends some time on you atleast in the beginning."

Another post doc:" I have been here long enough, and I am here because I have nowhere else to go, all these huge number of people in the lab, everybody has there own niche, you cannot really go and say ' hey I would like to do dome experiments with FCS', you would need other skills for it. and some poeple take out there earphones only when they want, other wise there song goes on.."

During the practical course in a lab, two italians and me. 

First Italian: listen Senthil, I have already talked to him about this, but do you mind if I talk with the incharge so that we can come late tomorrow?"

Me: yes, of course, I dont mind starting late by an hour or two if its something really important to you...

First Itlalian: ya, thanks a lot.

then the incharge comes in, he starts," We wanted to ask you if we can come at 12 noon from tomorrow onwards as I have a personal problem...

the incharge," Can I ask what is the problem? Its not just not my time, it means adjusting the times of all the people who have planned experiments with the instrument.."

First Italian: " I have joined the gym and since I get a discount if I go between 9 and 13 hours, I would like to go to gym, I have not been going the last week because of the lectures..."

The second italian looks at him and then me with a surprised look. I am also suprised at the seriousness of the issue. 

the incharge: I see that you are thinning down, but no. its not possible. Its  shitty (reason).

First Italian: ya i know, its a shitty, I have not gone since a week, i really wanted to go. But this practical and lectures....

All the three of us were astounded but of course we just tacitly smiled.

Cycle

I remember using a cycle since I was in school. I had a BSASLR cycle ironically called the Photon. I was then may be learning how fast a photon could travvel. I remember when I had gone with my parents to buy a cycle. I had always had an attraction to mechanical machines. As I went on looking at a costly, geared cycle shock absorbers, my Dad was convincing me to buy a cheaper old fashioned one, like the ones newspaper wallahs and milkmen used to have. Ultimately I settled down for a cheaper but little modern looking one, but the name much more than modern - the photon. I remember participating in a township cycle race, only to realise that others so called racing cycle were much faster. All my consistent pedalling and mental reassurances of overtaking went waste. Those cycles had much smaller flywheels in the rear, corresponding to a high gear in modern cycles. I later replaced the flywheel in my cycle too. What more, I also had a dynamo and a head light on it. A cycle ride in those days was almost a daily routine. In the early mornings of winters, I used to mince through the misty air, braving the chilly wind and cold to the river side, only to sit there for a few minutes and come back. I used the cycle for four years and managed to keep it looking like it was bought yesterday. and yes it had a five rupees BMW logo on its mudguard. 

Later I joined college and went to a different city and my cycle was sold for 500 rs. by my dad without my approval. I now bought a new bicycle, a racing one, less ironically, this one was called 'Mach 3'. I used to ride this bicycle all the way upto a theatre called SK Cinema, on Anand-Nadiad highway, approximately 10 kms from my hostel, so that I could buy movie tickets in advance and save money, only to go back with my future wife in an autorickshaw in the evening. When I left the city, I did not sell it, nor did I take it with me, I dont know what happened to it.

I was in Mumbai now. I found no pleasure and use in riding a bicycle in the crowded streets of Mumbai. I had forgotten the impetuous feel which I had when I rode bicycles, when I and the cycle used to be one, when each stroke of my feet powered it and my hands steered it with perfection. Speed used to be thrilling, a bicycle speed is different from a motor bike speed. Its the engine in bike, and here its you. 

This long forgotten experience was brought back in Germany. Here they call the bicycles 'bike'. A bike would usually mean a motorbike in India. But it cost me the same amount as a second hand motor bike would cost in  India. This one is a mountain bike, 21 gears, twin shock absorbers, lights and it was brought by my own money. Gears have changed now. 

Dresden offers one of the most beautiful and longest cycling routes. It goes from Dresden through the Sachsen Schweizz all the way along the river Elbe to Prague in Czech Republic,  a distance of 227 kms. I hope to ride all the way in the next summers sometime over a week. Of many other good things about a bicycle is that it connects you more to the surroundings, I often enjoy a long lonely ride along the Elbe on weekends. Of course, the weather in Dresden is not so condusive everyday, but, when its cold, ride faster to warm up, when its hot, ride faster to create a breeze..

                                   Road to Prague