Eateries and Drinkeries

While 'Drinkeries' is no proper self-respecting English word, I'll still go with it. With all the revolution in the English Language going on around the world, I think it'll survive the understanding.

So, since a couple of months I've moved to Berlin. While it's still true that because of various issues at various facets, I'm still struggling to establish a normal life here, I've begun to enjoy the city tremendously. Here, I'll focus on one particular aspect, as mentioned in the title.

 One of the first interesting places I've been to was a Sri Lankan restaurant around Boxhagener Platz. Here is the link. It turned out to be refreshingly nice restaurant, true to the universality of the South Indian spices. If I still remember correctly, I had "Appes", which are like Dosas but are shaped like a bowl. Would definitely recommend it. It is a small place though, and when we went, we even met a waiter from Bangladesh, who was working there for his last day.

The next restaurant I enjoyed the food was at an Italian place near Ostkreutz/Boxhagener Platz. That one of the crazy neighbourhoods in Berlin which is absolutely jam-packed with cool restaurants and bars. The place served really GOOD Italian food. Further down the memory lane, we land at a Burger place in Panierstrasse, which is again another neighbourhood (in Neukolln) filled with wonderful places. You can check out the BurgersInternational here . You can see how 'lacker' the burgers look, and take it from a person who can identify decent food, that they were absolutely superb! I would love to go there again and again. Note that it is a small place, often very crowded, and you might have to be outside. And, as you see, the burgers are huge, so be prepared to open your mouths wide.

When Christian, Lewis and Sofia were around for a weekend, we were mostly visiting Christmas markets, but there was a Vietnamese place on Sonntagsstr. @ Ostkreutz which was quite nice, and the Aussie Burger at the restaurant of the Adina hotel was quite tasty. Another super cool cafe is Cafe Hilde at Prenzlauer Berg. Check out the cool baked goodshere. It is a relatively big cafe with a nice decor, and a very cozy atmosphere. The muffins and hot chocolate were especially good. Speaking of Cafes, the one you shouldn't miss at all are Cupcakes Berlin. I don't know about the coffee there, but given the quality of cupcakes I've had (read: terrific), I would go there again and again. Actually, I had got some cupcakes (hmm, its not Muffins, that's American! Even there was a British lady at the reception) as a surprise for Sabine's birthday. And these muffins we had at Standige Vertretung. This is a place which I still have on my list. We went to this place for a drink, and it was so crowded that we couldn't go in --- admittedly on a Saturday evening. The speciality of this place is Cuisine from Koln, as Julia told us. Actually, we went there after having dinner at a Japanese restaurant in Friedrichstrasse (well, Mittelstrasse actually), called Ishin . Unfortunately, I don't exactly remember what I had, but it must have been a Don, with some meat.

Okonomiyaki

And speaking of Japanese places, another place at Prenzlauer Berg comes to mind, where Hana took me, and we had Okonomiyaki (see the picture). It is a delicious salty Japanese pancake, and even someone like who does not like fish, liked it very much! The restaurant is here, and for a more extensive review of the place you can read more. Shortly after the Okonomiyaki lunch, we visited the another cool chocolaterie and cafe in the area, in the very French fashion, Mon Plasir. If you go there, make sure you try the Macarons, and coffee, of course. Try whatever you want, I bet you won't be disappointed.

Coming back to more recent times, the first time we started doing 'informed' restaurant hunting, we went to Babel in Kastanienallee. A delicious Lebanese place, if ever there was one. Food was around 8-9 Euro, a lot of it, very good quality and extremely tasty. Again, it is a small place, and can get really crowded at times. In the neighborhood, there are two places that I need to try: one is a South African place called Cape Town, and another a South Indian, called Chutnify. We did try to go to Cape Town last Friday, but it was closed for some unknown reason, and Chutnify turned out to be a small but extremely popular restaurant, so no places were available for the whole evening. To take a hit, we went to Savanna . However, I wouldn't recommend this place too much, although you can get exotic dishes here. I had ostrich, while Miguel had Antelope and Hana zebra. To me, Ostrich and Antelope seemed fine, but I won't be trying Zebra. The quality of the food / meat was good, but the cooking wasn't superb, and the dishes generally expensive (even for traditional meat like chicken/lamb). Among the cereal dishes, one can choose rice, or couscous, or fufu. The latter is made from the root of some trees, and I wouldn't recommend it -- it was basically tasteless. Rice or couscous would have been much better. The African Beer Dju Dju was quite nice though, even if a bit expensive, and it comes in different flavors, much like the Berliner Weisse.

This is the men's bathroom, I'm sure you can tell!

Finally, some 'drinkeries'  before finishing this off. One of the really cool places I've been to in terms of quality and atmosphere has to be Hopfenreich. It has the largest number of craft beers I have seen available in a single place. Another place in Perenzlauer Berg, close to the Kulturbraurei, whose name I can't recall or find out from Google, but it was a very comfy place, with a particularly cozy nook that made for perfect drinking and conversation. And this is a classic example why these bars please me so much --- they have an atmosphere of casual decay and disdain, nothing is very polished, but stuck with old posters of a bygone era. Things look worn out, there are mysterious boxes behind curtains draped across big windows -- as if no one really cares if they get stolen or not, and no one cares what people think. It is this decadence that lends an aura that is quite difficult to conjure else where. In contrast, the bar/club An einem schonem Sonntag im August , has quite a different atmosphere. Often with (live) music, the seating places are arranged more like steps, and more carefully dressed people as well as smart, but casually dressed people come here. Quite recommended. Yes, and the bar at St Oberholz. Its quite a big place, but is more than the ordinary restaurant/bar as you can read in the blog. Besides having cool beer, they have a clever way of distinguishing male and female toilets (see the pic). And they have free WiFi, so a good place to work as well.

I think I'll close now. Quite a mouthful of places that I've listed. They look good, and hopefully there will be more in the future to come. In a phrase, Berlin is a foodie/drinkie's sublime paradise.

Staring at Love's face

It's not very often that this happens, and not always that you get to observe this as a third person, aware of how much of a significance this carries. In real life. Yesterday, I was lucky enough to observe this.

I have two very good Spanish friends, who've been together for almost a decade now. Almost a lifetime. Yesterday was P's birthday. I knew this only because A told me about it. And A wasn't here, but attending a workshop several hours away: so P was to spend the birthday alone. As it happened, I had bought along something for P from India (and also for A), and hadn't given either of them the presents. So, I thought it would be a really good idea to give P the gift. We were sitting in a Cafe drinking beer, talking about various things, when P had a phone call from A. I thought it was to wish P for P's birthday. And then, we continued talking. And then it happened.

All of a sudden I saw A appear from nowhere. And P was kinda shocked. Evidently this was unexpected. The look on P's face as P hugged and kissed A is something I wouldn't really forget. And I stared at them just simply, just happy -- so purely happy, so much joy that I had never experienced for a long time. This was happy for happiness' sake. This is rare. Last year I have hardly been this happy. I have been sad most of the time, and when I was happy, I was happy because I wasn't sad. And this was being happy for happiness' sake. You know what I mean?

I remember the pain when my ex- and I were away for a long time the first time. My ex-, another A, was also going to work far away, to another continent. And I also remember the A's expression when I came to meet A in the airport when A came back to Mumbai after three months for A's first vacation. I think I came to the airport from KK's house, and I still remember me waiting at the Arrivals in a blue T-shirt, waiting for A to arrive. And I still remember the joy at the first re-union. I was also staring at Love's face, but was not looking at Love. I was looking beyond Love at A.

And yesterday, I was looking at both of them, and stared directly at Love. 

At Crossroads: when the present is important like no-other time

 What do you exactly do when you  think half of your life is already over and you find that the things you wanted to do haven't really happened? I mean whatever subject it might have to do with --- your relationship, your career ambitions, your social ambitions. One fine way is to give up, and cry hysterically like I have done for the past three months. Well, I shouldn't be so harsh on myself: after all, all the possible misfortunes didn't happen to me. Just a real-crisis in my personal life and relationship. And it could have been far worse.

 Many bad things have happened to me. For sure, of all the things that have happened to me, this is probably the ugliest till now. It is ugly, but not bad. All it did was to show that how powerful can love be --- don't think you know it so well. And of all the things I've fought back against, this has undoubtedly taken the longest.

 Another way, would be to fight back, like I am doing now. Always do that. It isn't easy. It isn't difficult. It's horribly difficult -- it can tear you apart. But do it. Remember you are fighting with the most powerful force in the world; the power of love. It's easy to hate (and therefore please don't do it --- it isn't worth it!), and it is not so easy to fall in love when you aren't in love. But it is really really difficult trying to be normal and indifferent to a person whom you've fallen in heads over heels in love with. And as much as I would have like to me believe that this is all over, and I am in full control over myself, it is not true. It is a fight, and it is not clear when it will get over.

 Remember life is a journey. A funny journey, where unexpected things happen all the time. There are things you can't control, you can't predict. One day in the tram, several weeks back, I was my usual depressed self, almost at the verge of crying, pondering on the uselessness of life, I noticed two things. One was a little girl, who was sitting in one the seats in front of me, and trying to hide her face behind the seat, and then quickly getting up to take a peep at my face. For a moment, I suddenly found the reason to fight back my tears; trying not to show a sad face to a child who was all curiosity. And then I saw this person in an electronic wheelchair, going about daily life as if nothing had happened. Certainly according to me this person's life was so difficult, but whether the person found it difficult isn't the point either. The point is, I think, that I thought this person could do it like everything was normal --- and that's where I found the inspiration. It might just be a gross misinterpretation, but at this point, I am prepared to live with it.

 And then what exactly do you fight back against? It is an invisible enemy trying to engulf you from all sides. This misfortune, that is. And then you don't even know when your golden chance comes -- it might just come and go away and you'd not notice. Many strange things happen. And happen when you least expect them to happen. My life has been an example of that.

 Anyway, why, you ask, am I writing all this preachy stuff? To help you? Nah, I am sure that you readers are wise enough to figure out how to deal with your misfortunes. Someone told me that I am a very emotional personal person. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps wrong. It doesn't matter. What is true is that for the last few months I've been rather emotional, and due to various reasons. And when I am like that, it helps to read positive words somewhere or the other. And when I cannot find it elsewhere, I must construct it on my own. Hoping to encourage myself.

 This brings me back to the present. The past is beautiful in a sublime way: it can give you pleasure and pain, in a sublime way. The pain and pleasure are diluted; you've already experienced them once, you know how to mold them. The future is certainly not sublime, but rather expectant. You are expecting something, and again you are molding your thoughts and expressions and hopes in one way or the other. This leaves the present. I think that only the present has the power to knock you off completely, blow you off your feet, leave you feeling completely hopeless and alone; ---- surprise you to the extent you've never been surprised before!

And thus present, I beseech you: you have played enough of havoc in my life. Surprise me like I have never been surprised before, in as positive as way, as in the negative trick you played a couple of months back!

"What I do with pen and paper, he does with computers"

 And you looked absolutely adorable today.

 Oh, how difficult is it to be in love with someone, be rejected by that someone and still be in love with that someone, always on the sidelines, always hoping that you will be loved back. What misery, what hope and what misery.

 And seriously, I am not drunk!

Misery

Every day I promise myself that I will not cry when I come back home. And every day I break that promise. Nearly almost every day I end up crying, or at the very least being miserable. Loneliness? No, Love. A bit of loneliness, too; but that is a minuscule fraction.

 In spirits, I have never been this low for this long in three decades. All my self-confidence shattered, I wonder every day how to go on. Every day I have to try to let the time pass. Never ever in my life have I known it to be so difficult.

 I do not doubt me as a person. No, about that I am confident enough --- I am a good person at heart. I also happen to have been bitten by the love bug; so much so, that, even after about four months, at times I find it hard to control my feelings. And I cannot even go and express how much I love to my lover. While this person knows about the existence of my feeling, this person is probably not aware of the full extent of it.  And this person I love doesn't respond; we never had a chance together, and I do not know why I was refused. In spite of my tries I cannot, simply cannot get rid of this feeling in my heart. It makes me so miserable. And I cry. It's been almost four months now, and yet no respite. And I cry again. Should I be ashamed? No, I haven't done anything wrong. I shouldn't. My life story is turning out to be as tragic as that of this person whose letter I discovered.

I don't really have an enemy, but even upon an enemy I cannot wish such misery. That love could eat you up so much, I hadn't the least idea. 

Sadness

What is sadness? -- Sadness is thinking about someone who is not even thinking about you.

 Borrowed this from somewhere because it seemed to be very appealing in a particular way. And what is happiness? When that particular someone comes and spends time with you? Now that is indeed a cliché!

The Cat and The Dragon 1

The Cat was not happy. It did not like it's sleep being disturbed by a certain nibbling of it's ears. It slowly opened it's sleepy eyes and looked down. Yes, the pouch was open. The dragon had woken up early and had got out.

No sooner than this happened, it spotted a blue mass completely engulfing it's face. The bright yellow tail with blue stripes tickled more than ever. This was the Drachen, the Dragon, also called Draggy by the Dragon's friends. The latter included a Bear, a Zebra, a Mouse and an Eagle. There was also a Black Cat, but we need come to it only later.

Now that the Drachen was awake it would need it's usual Pork Soup for breakfast. This was the absolutely one single food that the Dragon loved, and would eat without complaint. Then it would be time for the Dragon to get dressed and go to school with all the friends.

The Cat let a big "meeow" and stretched itself, put out a huge yawn, and also managed to scratch the Blue Dragon as it tried to scuttle away. The Drachen turned back and hissed out some black smoke on the Cat's face, making the Cat cough. It was the usual bit of Cat-and-Dragon play that would happen every morning.

With the Pork Soup finished, the Drachen was easy to tame. The Cat quickly dressed the Drachen up, in a brand new yellow knickerbockers, and a smarty shirt with a tie. Very soon, there was scratch at the door, and almost simultaneously Zibby the Zebra poked its head in. The Drachen let a squeal of joy, and flew out from the Cat's grasp, and landed on Zibby's head.

As the Drachen and it's friends made their way to School, the Black Cat looked on, and stared angrily. It was not happy.

A love letter

For quite a while now, I have been learning German. It is fun, and productive. That other day, I found a collection of used German books, among which was included a comic-book. Feeling the joy that this might be something I can read and enjoy, I bought it. Later, in my home, while browsing through it, some sheets of paper flew out. It was a letter. A love-letter. In German. Of someone I did not know. To someone I didn't really know. Feeling safe, I decided to read it. It was written in proficient German, enough for me not to have understood about 40% of the content. But the part that I understood, was so moving, so sad, so universal, that I decided to reproduce it, hiding some of the explicit names and places which might the give the actual people away. Whatever be the case, I did not doubt for a moment that this actually happened. Somewhere in Switzerland. Using some of my personal experience to fill in the gaps that I didn't actually understand, here is a reasonable reproduction. The writing style has been somewhat modified partially due to translation, and partially due to my own style; but I think I have been completely true to the feelings in the letter. Because, to a large extent, I felt a resonance of attitude with the author. I do not know what actually happened to the couple, but I do sincerely hope that where ever they are, they are together, and they are happy.


Dear Beloved,

 I have purposely chosen not to name you, since I don't think naming you will help either of us in any way. Your name, your gender, my gender, doesn't really matter, since I love you, and as they say love knows no boundaries. And if you get this letter, you will know the author.

 The first question I am asking myself is that why am I writing this letter? Not to make you in fall in love with me, not just expressing my love -- which I have already done before, but more as an expression of my feelings. The truth is that there is such an overwhelming of emotions about you within me that I cannot fully expresses it. Not being able to express my feelings frustrate me, pressurize me to the point of bursting like a balloon. In the past, I have felt that I am better at sitting down and expressing my feelings on paper; so I am going to try that one more time.

 Is it only because of this? No, there is a even bigger reason. You do not love me back. Perhaps you never will. And then sometime Time will make sure that the Love dies. Because we didn't nurture it. Not all kinds of Love can be sustained by a single parent. And then there will be no memories of this, because we never experienced this feeling together. Therefore, I am going to be terribly selfish, and talk about only my pains.

 Perhaps you care about me. Perhaps something prevents you from expressing you love. Perhaps you do not really care. Perhaps you still love your ex so very much. Or perhaps you get repelled from me for some reason. But I would always assume that you behave the way you find necessary so as to not to hurt me. And this assumption is somehow based on the fact that I don't understand you. Maybe I don't even try to understand you from your point of view because that would make my crazy.

 I remember every single detail of the day I met you for the first time. Nothing special happened then. In fact nothing happened again the first time I talked with you for some time. Nothing much happened on the first dinner we went out together with friends, in a predictably Italian restaurant. And then it happened: like a blitz, the next time we were out, I was head over heels in love with you. And that was so unexpected. I was not expecting me to fall in love with you; or with anyone else for that matter. And that is why it hit hard. Hit very very hard.

 Perhaps you noticed. Perhaps you did not. But you were friendly as ever. You didn't move your legs away when I touched them with my legs. All unconsciously, all lost in the haze of interesting conversation. Those were the days of immense bliss. Always trying to sit next to you, always trying to talk to you, always trying to make you feel special, always trying to see that you didn't have any problems. Days of exchanging non-consequential information over messages. Me being under the illusion that you also might like me in some vague way. Stupid of me, silly of me, and done without letting anyone know, in the cover of discretion. And yet we talked. And we went out with friends together.

 And then that day it happened. You were late for lunch, and so was I. And although we had our lunches separately, I asked you if you wanted to go for a coffee with me. You said yes. And we went. And we talked again. But no one was with us. And things got personal. We exchanged a couple of personal information. Somehow you gave me the precise information I wanted to hear --- something I was expecting every moment, but lacking the courage to ask. And then I asked you if you were with someone. And you said no. And then I told you. 

 I told you that how much I loved you. Well, I didn't exactly tell you that --- but I told you that I felt a bond with you, I felt myself very much attracted to you. And I felt you hesitantly draw back. From inside. In your feelings. I could feel your surprise. Surely you had me figured out all right? How could you be surprised? And then you told me that you didn't feel anything special for me. And something in me stopped. You told me that you didn't see me any differently from other colleagues. And I flinched back --- I hated myself. I regretted the whole episode. I felt miserable. I tried to think what was wrong in what I had said or did. Something must have been wrong. I must have said something wrong. What? But I didn't have the courage to ask you that. 

Everyone else in the Cafe were busy talking. They must have been talking about very nice things, or I must have been putting up a brave face -- they did not notice at least a single heart break into two. Cocooned in a blanket of welcoming sunlight in the chilly winter afternoon, no one noticed that my period of depression had started. But why blame others --- I myself had no idea of what I was getting into.

 That weekend was hell. I tried to justify to myself that I had done the right thing in telling you. Over and over again. And nothing else would come to mind. Nothing, nothing and again nothing. Thankfully, people around were contemplating whether to shut the EU citizens out for good; and no one noticed my misery. And secretly I hoped that it would become all right with time. You would perhaps get to like me. And I would try. We exchanged some messages that weekend, but I was cautious and you were friendly.

 Over the week, I met you again, and again you were very friendly. You were talking like always. And I did not dare to hope much, but just a subdued feeling from last week. But you were there, like the cheerful and colorful ray of spring killing the desolation of the winter. And again I realized how helplessly in love I was with you. 

 And again the Spring let me hope. I tried to message you, and got nice and friendly replies back. And you smiled in the messages. Did anyone ever tell you how sweet you look when you smile? And also when you don't? I could lose my whole existence just by staring into your eyes. Has anyone told you these nuanced things? Except that all I say is completely true --- all which I have personally felt. How could your former lover let you go? I would love you so, so much. Make you feel so much special that you would never want to leave. Ever. I never told you all this, but if I did, you would stop and think that what a huge maniac I am. 

 No, my dear, all this is what I think. What I feel. For you. None of this will be transformed to craziness. Since a Love can be pure, it can be good, can be constructive, and when treated with reason it does not seek to harm anybody, --- it just looks for some shelter, some acceptance. And then it dies, when it doesn't find any shelter. Sometimes quickly, but whenever slowly, it brings unbearable pain to its host. Such despair. And sometimes it leaves some memories. Painful ones, perhaps. 

 In my despair, I asked you out again. For a moment, I sensed the hesitation in your reply whether to accept. And finally you refused. Saying that you didn't know me enough. Yes, I agreed, but how else would we get to know each other. And you said I would get too involved. I sensed your hesitation, your reluctance, but yet was powerless to do anything about it. How could I? When every detail about you would bind themselves in my heart, my brain, in my very existence, refusing to let go? And yet, I never understood why you weren't interested. I had no clue. I have lots of guesses. And every guess had something negative about me. And with every guess my confidence in myself went down. 

One day we went out. To buy some clothes. It was the happiest moment for me since I got to spend some time alone with you. We went in and out into the shops of the old town, talking and chatting about everyday things. And stupid me, the chatterbox that I am, I kept on asking questions about you, all in the innocence of getting to know you better. And every answer I got only brought me closer to you. Only me. I would think how enjoyable it would be, if we ever together. But all this was so stupid, so much in vain. And when we met some friends in one of the shops, I felt the guilty pleasure of a boy being discovered while doing some mischief. And yet, so much romantic. Later, I would think about this moment and wonder how it would feel to give you a hug and hold you in my arms. Perhaps overwhelming. Perhaps I would never know. It was one of the happiest days in my life.

And slowly as I thought got to know you better, you grew more and more distant. Your messages to my queries grew more and more monosyllabic; and that day you told me again explicitly that you were not interested in me. Getting more and more frustrated, I realized what a huge misunderstanding this was. Not that I had hoped too much to happen. But the root cause is that I am very optimistic, far more optimistic than the normal person --- and in many cases I end up thinking about much more happy scenario that can result in conclusion. I tried to become more aloof, and let you be. And here I have to be selfish, and tell you that this was at a tremendous cost to myself. 

I forced myself to be busy in ways I would not have dreamed possible. Too much sports. Too less food. Too much work. Too less sleep. And yet it would not help. Dear Love, you would not know, but there is a stretch of a few minutes walk from the train station to my apartment. This one day I got out of the train thinking about something else, and then midway your thoughts hit me so hard. And I cried, I cried on the way home; feeling the cold, the helplessness; and feeling blessed that the darkness hid my face to the few people that might have been passing by. And I don't want you or anyone else to feel pity for me. No, surely not: these feelings of sadness and love I have for you are pure, are beautiful, and serene: they surely do not deserve pity. 

 Finally, when I thought that the worst had passed, I asked you if we could just be friends. And you snapped at me saying that you didn't even want to be friends with me, I was just an acquaintance for you. And you told me that I was trying to invade your private life, and make you uncomfortable. And stalking you. And you blocked me from all your social circles. Really, you must have thought that I was a manic; a pervert, a deranged personality, with perhaps an obsessive compulsive disorder. A crazy guy. 

 I did not know what to say to all that. I still don't. I don't blame you. I won't ever. Perhaps earlier I did show some of this despair. But surely you did notice that in the last few weeks I became more and more restrained. But, truth be told my dear, I did not know what to do, and how to do things. I have been in love before, and it was an intense, extreme love; but it began very gradually, which meant that I could assess and control my reactions.

 With you, it was an explosion. There was such a flurry of emotions within me, that it became hard to keep all of it inside. But, all positive. Until of course you refused. And then there was such despair. Every day it grew worse. Nearly everyday I would think of you, and cry uncontrollably. Should people be ashamed of crying? No.. why should they be? Crying is not about weakness. Crying about something is showing your pure emotions about it, and I have done no wrong. So these cries of despair went on, unheard, and untouched and unprocessed. Frankly, I began to be overwhelmed by the feelings I possessed for you. I would think about you every night before I went to sleep, every morning when I got up. And as I tried more and more not to think about you during the day, the more you appeared in my dreams. I have been in deeply in love before, but perhaps with not such intensity. I would put on songs which reminded me about you and listen to them in full concentration with my eyes closed and trying to picture you.

 I have not the courage to tell you all this -- perhaps you'll stop speaking to me all together. That perhaps is a bigger blow than I can take at the moment. Therefore, I will just content to be your colleague, and try, try, try my very best in not showing the slightest hint my feelings for you. Do nothing that makes you uncomfortable. What this leaves in store for me, I do not know. I do not think I can forget my feelings for you in such a hurry. You have changed me --- irreversibly. In a way I could not have imagined. You never perhaps realized it, but I go so much inspired from you in certain respects. You made me feel LOVE as I have never felt before, the love in all its beauty, its grandeur, its power, and its despair. Whatever happens I will never forget this. 

 And with this line you know that I have not stopped hoping. I do not know if you will get this letter or not, if you will read it or not; and if the latter, you will perhaps never know of the intensity of my feelings. And I do not have the courage to tell this to you in person, since I know you will only think worse about me. 

You once told me that why would I want to share my private life. But a life is only private if there is someone to share it with. I could not share all my sorrows and problems with my friends, and the friend I could share things with is now gone. I wonder how it is with you. I wonder if you have loved somebody with this intensity. Oh, lucky -- that lucky person. 

 And that day you remarked that you were adorable. I fully agreed. Silently. 

 Endless love from someone who has spend two and half months of loving you non-stop!
 xxxxxxx

Making my day

It is a strange way in which the human emotions act. I have always considered myself to be an optimist, and hopeful in the most despairing of the situations. The last few weeks, however, have been a disaster for me: I kept on feeling that my personal life is a huge fucking mess. Of course, I don't easily show it, but really, sometimes I feel that I am bursting at the seams. Mostly because I can't get to talk about the issues that bother me. You know, the relief that comes from just talking is just so palpable. There are lots of problems, and by just talking, they don't get solved. But that doesn't matter. Talking is the first step of expressing some problem, formulating it in a way so that a solution can be reached.

But strange are the ways feeling act. The moment he came up and talked to me, I could feel the palpable relief, the transformation inside me, from being politely interested to one of exuberant joy! 

Birthday and Bridges

Given that tomorrow will be my birthday, and I have decided to be rather quiet about this one, I decided to celebrate this one alone. Tomorrow is a working day, and I will be rather busy, and today was such a glorious day that I decided to take a walk by the Aare.

The Sun was bright and sunny, which is the object of this picture. Nevertheless, it was a slight chill in the air enough perhaps to keep a very light jacket on if you were wearing half-sleeved shirt (like I was -- and a new one too, given that it's going to be my birthday tomorrow!). In any case, this is a section of railing just by the Aare (I'll leave you guess in case you know Bern intimately!).

Bern is not a low-lying city, its close to 500m high; and most of the city looks down onto the Aare. And if you are walking by the Aare, like me, most of the time you'll be looking up. This gives a wonderful way to study the bridges.
People like bridges --- at least I do. They are a wonderful feat of engineering, and sometimes standing on them can give you quite a view below. There are quite a few bridges in Bern joining the parts of the city cut deep into two parts by the fast flowing Aare. While in the medieval ages it had served as a natural defense against invading enemies, now-a-days they have been stitched by these bridges. Take a look at some of them.

In the backdrop of the river and the small houses, the bright sunny sky, the cool weather, I was having a very pleasant time. It reminded me of the last birthday, spend in the Austrian Alps and in Innsbruck attending a conference. Incidentally, that was a Sunday, we had a wonderful conference lunch and followed by a nice walk down the mountain into the city of Innsbruck, and then an intense physics discussion with Uwe and Mike Creutz in a quaint bar.


Well, anyway coming back to the present, you really can't help noting certain things by the river. One was the certain stale smell of fish coming from the river -- this was a bit strange, I had never quite experienced that before in this part of the Aare. Certainly there were quite a few people fishing, though, which probably meant quite a fishes were around. At some point there was lots of gushing in the water, which made me look closely as if some big fish was sneaking up on me; but to my disappointment it turned out be some water outlet in the side of the river that was pumping out water. Another was this tower. Apart from the graphiti, this was a piece right from the Middle Ages.




The strong current of the river is often harnessed for power, I suppose -- you get to see these small embankments across the river, like this one.
Very soon the path turned a bit rocky, going over to the northern part of the city where the river twists and turns a lot. To my surprise, the road led to quite a dense wooded region -- this was already beyond Felsenau and going towards Tiefenau. It is indeed surprising that I have been here in Bern for almost two years now, and I hadn't come
along this path even once. Well, so much for that! Here is a view from in between the dense trees, looking into the river -- which you can make out by the strong reflection.

Initially, I had decided that I will walk all the way to Bremgarten, where the river turns and flows to the west, and then come to a place from where I can cross the Bremgarten forest into Bumpliz Nord and then finally to my house in Bumpliz Sud. But shortly beyond this point (as shown in the picture to the right), I decided that it was a bit too much.

                             

This is one of the fleeting decisions that I sometimes make. I promised myself that  the next time I would start from the other direction and make all the way to this point. On the way back, it was a simple matter to find the station Tiefenau and take the train back. In fact, the superb train/bus connections in Switzerland make these kind of trips really worth making.

Anyway, if you travel a bit onward, you quickly come to Worblaufen which is the kind of the north-eastern border of Bern. This is where Albert used to live. To the left is a picture taken the Friday before last, when I was visiting their place. This is one of the high bridges connecting the parts of the city to the neighborhoods dissected by the river. This is an inverted perspective from the rest of the pictures before.



Whatever happens, this is one of the birthdays I will never ever forget now! This year has been very nice to me, life has been nice to me in some ways, for which I am grateful; and not nice in certain very cruel ways, but I cannot complain about that. Certain things are too heavy to be changed, they are better accepted as they are. Well, Happy Birthday to myself!

Note added a week later: The reason for editing

is like of the  most amazing co-incidence that has
ever happened. The very next day after I finished
writing the blog was going to be my birthday. I had
ordered this, what you see to the right, several weeks
back, but it was delivered on the 23rd of September.
It was a like giving myself a birthday gift; though
I could hardly have known that it was going to be
delivered that day. :)

Yes, the picture, however was taken a week later,
to be precise yesterday: me watching the latest
South Park on my latop!

Goodbyes

Goodbyes are not really my cup of tea; which isn't saying anything much because so many people have the same feeling. This week a very good colleague, a very valuable friend, and his family, who moved out of Switzerland into Holland -- (and thankfully), for a permanent job. All the universality associated with saying goodbyes to people who are close to me, swept over me again.

Goodbyes to my school, to my college, to the Calcutta I knew, to TIFR, and smaller, more personal, sometimes more deeper ones scattered on the way in time. Of course, there was during August a much more deeper goodbye said, to a feeling -- an invisible one, a one that is really complex. But, I digress: what is the use of trying to describe a goodbye to something which I will never be able to describe.

Goodbyes, perhaps, shouldn't be said, at least to good things. But then there you are, powerless against forces greater than you are, which orchestrate things that you don't want, that force you to say goodbyes to things that you didn't want to.

Goodbyes can sometimes be so sour, either because the new Hello is sour or simply you were too attached to the past to say the new Hello properly. In anticipation, some people just hide the goodbye with an occupation. Like I did a couple of times. In August. In 2011 when I left Mumbai.

Goodbye, I wonder how it will be when I have to leave Bern ...

Goodbye for now!

More trysts with Visas

The last time I wrote such a blog was when I was applying for the Schengen visa to Italy. It was 2010 and I was aiming to attend the Lattice 2010 conference in Sardinia.
It is 2013 now, and I am trying to fly to the US, to visit MIT and Duke. I live in Switzerland now. You'd have thought (or rather no: maybe you're smarter, and I am still dumb; so let's say, I'd have thought) that things would be much easier. The official wait times for processing the US visa from the Embassy at Bern at time of the year is 3-days. In the website, in the FAQ section they say that at peak periods it is about ~2 weeks.
I had my visa interview at the Embassy on the 31st Jan. The US consular officer who took my interview was quite optimistic that I would get the visa in 2-3 weeks time. This is my second visit to the US. (Never mind that last time I got issued a one-year visa, which expired at the beginning of this month, forcing me to apply once again. In the meantime the visa fees went up from CHF 125 to CHF 160).
It is the fourth week now, and I am anxiously counting my days. I am supposed to fly at the beginning of next week, and if things don't work out, I stand to lose hundreds of dollars (or even thousand the whole transatlantic flight has to be cancelled as well). Not to mention a most wonderful academic and research opportunity.
All the same, it seems that there is nothing I can do. Calls do not reveal any information, their emails replies are most unhelpful, ending in wishing me to have a lovely day, when in reality, I'm biting my nails off my fingers. Out of sheer desperation I am writing this blog. To have my feelings written down somewhere so that I can recall them later.

Not Proud

You know, there have been things I've done about which I am not proud. Two such things suddenly hit back on me suddenly. Two promises. Nothing life-changing, but small ones.

The first one was during the trip to Jaisalmer. We went out to see the sand dunes early in the morning. It was freezing cold in the desert; and it was long before I had become accustomed to cold that I can bear now. In any case, there were some local people waiting for us with camels. There were a couple of small boys as well with them. Small, that is, around 10 years of age. While we went on camels, they walked on the sand. And there we were on the dunes, before the sun, watching the sun come up, while these people stuck up a fire, warming their hands in it. I still have their pictures. I promised them, that when I went back, I would take the pictures on paper, and send them a copy. I do not remember now if I wrote down the address. While the pictures remain on my social networking sites, showing off to the cool desert places I've been to, no trace of the address or the pictures on paper remain. A promise that I had ignored, or simply waited long enough to forget. The only comfort that I have from the trip is that before saying bye to those small boys, I gave one of them my pair of gloves. I was going back to warm Mumbai, I didn't need them anyway.

The second one was much more dear. It was the trek to Roopkund. And it was scary, for me. There was snow all over, and I was scared stiff, and slipping all the way. I did make my way as much as the group, as high as possible. And then came back. Safe and sound. Only thinner. And promised the guides that would never forget them. Promised as usual to send photographs. And as usual did not send them. I wonder if they remember us at all. Every week there are adventurous tourists, trying to hike up. Do they remember all of us? But this thought, is just an excuse not to fill my promise. If I did take the printout and send them pictures, then they would definitely have remembered. And this time there wasn't anything I could give them, and later feel happy about it. Only their pictures remain in Google+, reminding me of the promise which I never fulfilled.

It must be well over several months since I wrote anything. As usual, lots of things change; many things happen: you get to know more people, see more movies, read more books, visit more places, get a little more experience than you had before, manage to lose a little more of innocence you had. Basically you get a little bit older.

As I sit today in my office, pouring over some some equations and trying to make sense out of them, with the snow having covered well nigh everything outside, I suddenly realize the things I am missing. Around this time, by Indian reckoning, about two years before, I would typically make a visit to the BEST canteen near the TIFR in Mumbai. And then I know now, two years from now, I will be somewhere else thinking about my time here, missing the routine things I do here, my friends and colleagues here.

And such is life.

From the mountains to the lakes via the valleys

It almost sounds like the title out of fairytale, but believe me: it's true; at least whatever the modern version of the tale might be. Yes, it's in Switzerland. As a last ditch effort to do something useful today, I will try to write a bit about my adventures in Switzerland.

This small, but very unique country in the whole of Europe, is to a large extent occupied by the Alps. That is, most of the southern part. Covered by some of the highest mountains in the Alps, fairytalish valleys and breath-taking views, it offers unique hiking opportunities. The northern part of the country is among the most densely populated regions in Europe with a very high development and production index. I could write a lot about this unique place, but probably it's best understood by reading the book "Swiss Watching" by Diccon Bewes, an Englishman who lives in Bern. The book is written with a strong flavour of typical British humour, which I must admit honestly, I enjoyed very much. Anyway, to have a nice introduction to the country, I'll leave you to read that. Let me however just stress an aspect that I really like about Switzerland. It's the only country in Europe where you'll find the cohabitation of two of Europe's biggest cultural traditions: the Germans and the French. While the traditions can be typically French or German, this doesn't mean at all they identify with each of the big neighbours. They're all Swiss, and that's what sets them apart.

Let's just start out by saying I live in Bern, which is in the plain lands, or should I say flatland? That makes me a flatlander, huh? A couple of weeks back, some friends of mine from Dresden visited me (ah yes, the Dresden visit, I should write about that wonderful city in another post, but let's just go on here). It was with them that I saw Basel, the cultural capital of Switzerland. Many people just think of Zurich to be the cultural capital, and that's it. But no, its true and yet its not true. Zurich is probably the cultural capital if you all want to be hip and happening, go to rock concerts, nightclubs, meet all the people of the people of the world and so on; but if you want to go to museums, and act cultural that way, then Basel is definitely the place for you. In fact, this week Basel had the world art exhibition.
Basel is also the pharmaceutical capital, with a home for the pharmaceutical companies. It's also the head office of Coop, the second biggest supermarket chain of Switzerland.

Now, now: I am supposed to just talk about my experiences, not go about making general statements, but I do feel a little bit of background is in order. So that was about Basel. About Bern now. Bern is the fourth biggest city of Switzerland (after Zurich, Geneva and Basel). It is the political capital, and a very wonderful and lively city. Especially on Saturdays if you go and visit the old town! The old town in Bern is a lot bigger than that in Basel, and looks really oldish. Compared to that, I found Basel old town to be modern! The trams in Basel are also the oldish ones, like the ones that you get to see in Wein. We walked about quite a bit in and around Basel to start with. The museum we went to see was the Kunstmuseum -- they were having a Renoir exhibition as well at that time. The museum was nice with lots of paintings from different areas, that took us about two hours to navigate. It was a Friday on the end of May, and the weather was the hottest we've had till then, with the sun absolutely burning down. Then after a light lunch in the old town, we went to Munster and the Rathaus. Our visit ended by taking a stroll down the banks of the Rhine, after we crossed across the MittleBrucke. It was a warm day, as I remarked before, and not a single sitting bench beneath the shadows were free.

By the time we had battled the rush hour on the train and reached Bern it was already cool: and the Eiger, the Monach and the Jungfrau were staring us on the face! Interestingly enough, the building of the Albert Einstein Centre, where I work, is on top of the Grosse Schanze, and it offers an unrestricted view of the mountains, and the city. This warm day, however, attracted some pretty dark clouds overnight, and from early next day it was raining: quite a disappointment for me, since I was expecting to show the lively city to my friends! It was not that bad, though: the rains and the sun in the month of May had spawn green all over the city, and, the view from the backyard of the Munster across the Aare on to the rising slopes of Gurten, our local mountain here in Bern, is indeed remarkable. Now, here comes a twist in the tale: you'd have thought that with the rains pouring down, the usual tourist would be confined to the hotel, or a cafe. Nuh, thats the what Bern is really good at. The whole old town is covered in arcades, and you can move under them while window-shopping all the time. C'mon now, how many of you really don't want to look at something nice? Lots of watches out there, in case that interests you. In fact, we got to see some designer clocks, which are so simple conceptually, but I really haven't seen the likes of those anywhere. So, even though it was all rainy and cold, we managed to have a decent time.

At the very end of the old town we went and looked at the bears. Thankfully, it was only drizzling now, and the bears were still out! What I was completely taken aback by was that on that very Saturday, Bern was holding its Grand Prix, the 16km marathon. Too bad it was raining all day, it must have been a bad day for the runners. I was taken aback because I hadn't realized that this event was coming up, -- and normally I am not totally shut-up from whats happening around me. With all this done, and having had a late lunch of rosti (and believe me the day was cold enough to warrant it!), we decided that we might as well go up to the Gurten. This however turned out to be quite a different experience from what I have had before: see the last two times I went up, it had been pretty clear: this day was completely different. First of all, since we didn't have time, we took the funicular all the way up (th Gurten Bahn). Once up there, it was completely covered by fog, you couldn't even see things 5 metres away, and it was completely deserted. So there we spend time in the foggy hill, all by ourselves, went up on the viewing tower, again all by ourselves, shivered in the cold, and came down. It was a different experience, to be sure, but I was keeping my fingers crossed for the day after -- since it was to be the great trip to the mountains.

Once back from Gurten, and on the way home, I was really happy to see a bright western sky: the clouds were lifting. The morrow would be safe! Thats all folks, for today: I have talked about the plains. Watch out for the mountains and the lakes in the next post!

Goodbye Seattle

I am bad at saying good-byes; meaning I say them well in front of people maybe without so much of emotion as I mean them. Today was no different. Initially, when I landed in Seattle, I had decided that I was not going to like the place as much as I do Switzerland. The weather was bad; -- it was raining, public transportation wasn't as good...Many of the places we went to for food (specially the first night) was exorbitantly expensive. Even I tried to argue that the coffee was better in Bern.
But it's only that much. It was my initial hesitation in accepting change that was saying all that. As time went on, I am glad to say that I could see beyond all this, feel the culture of the city, the culture of America; and why you should never compare beer with wine! I already wrote about all that in my last post.
Well, anyway. I just have to add a couple of things before I finally say goodnight and go to sleep (.... I have to wake up at 5 AM tomorrow morning). The first one is the Columbia Center, also serving as the Bank of America building. The tallest building in the Seattle skyline, (about twice as tall as the Space Needle), you would see it's huge, but you would not really realize it's SO HUGE until you go all the way up and then look down. I have heard so many arguments of my sophisticated friends against the skyline of the US cities rendered ugly by the skyscrapers; but today, all these arguments really turned to water when I was up on top of the building and looked down at the cityscape, the landscape around it, the lakes and then finally the mountains beyond. There is something in beauty that defies all arguments...
The second thing is the University of Washington campus. A sprawling one, I've often wondered what it would be like to play Treasure Hunt in there. Again, it is here, that I have had the chance to observe the American University students life, albeit from a distance. It is something I have seen so many movies about, wondered so much about; but this is the closest to which I have experienced it. It would have been fun if I was here as a student: going out with friends to the University street on a Friday night for a cheap dinner of Thai food followed by a couple of beers in a local alehouse. Fun, eh? The campus has it's own charms, old buildings shrouded in tall trees, grassy lawns, cherry trees in full blossom in spring, the vitality of youth everywhere,...

...anyway, Goodbye Seattle. Hope to see you again soon!

Sleepless in Seattle

This wasn't exactly a title that I thought would have ever applied to me: but nine hours of jet-lag have made this possible. It worked its black magic on me this whole week, making me get up at the middle of the night all the time!
So, ... Seattle is the first American city I had a chance to witness ever since I went to see the Downtown today. The culture is quintessentially American, with people being jolly and friendly with perfect strangers, waitresses cheerfully calling out over the distance if the food is all right, or if you want something more. It's been quite a pleasure to have been here. Since I don't have anything specific to say, maybe I'll just summarize stuff like a travelogue.
First, the food. Sea food seems to be a specialty of Seattle. Not surprising. In addition, there are numerous places in the University street offering various kinds of food, starting from a very delicious veg buffet to spicy Indian food. While you can get yourself decently fed within $12; things can easily go up to $25 with Indian food, $40 with specialty Sushi or sea-food.
Downtown Seattle was also fascinating. I would never even dream of comparing it with any of the European cities -- Seattle (and indeed probably most American cities) have their own culture, very unique and very distinct from anything the world has ever produced. You will start by noticing people from all the corners of the world, followed by all the kinds of cuisines possible (and indeed, I had the honor of eating piroshky from a Russian bakery shop -- traditionally I think it's called Pirozhki --- which seemed extremely popular with a long queue of people, and drinking coffee from the first Starbucks shop). Then of couse, the usual blend of Indian -- Chinese -- Sushi -- going all the way to Arabian and African. But then that is expected too. And it is America, so there has to huge tall skyscrapers, nobody beats them at it. Skyscrapers have their own charm -- I have lived in Mumbai for 6 years, and am no stranger to them; but of course, they were nowhere like the ones in the US. Their magic worked on me...
And yes, chocolates ... Americans are sometimes strangely innovative, that other people would have never thought of. I have lived for some time now in Switzerland, the land of chocolate, but I have never seen marshmallows dipped in chocolate,  bretzels in chocolate, whole apples dipped in chocolate and with mouth-watering outer chocolate layers. That was really something -- a quick taste of marshmallow coated chocolate and a marzipan dipped in chocolate to break my fast!
The Seattle Art Museum was also nice in its own way, but nothing really striking --- there was a painting of Puget Sound bay that completely swept me off. It was an invitation to the American settlers to come West. And there was another one of Nigara falls aimed at proclaiming the power and the beauty of the newest continent. There was a collection of paintings exploring how remarkable the effects of focusing light on a paining can point out the theme of a painting -- there was a picture of Nurse Irene tending a wounded St Sebastian, and there was another nurse showing light on the wound; and the very act brings out the tenderness of the action of tending a wounded.
I suppose that is it for tonight --- I don't think I can think of anything more to say!

It was wonderful weather today. It usually is. It usually has been for the past two weeks. An perfectly heavenly spring, when you want to forget everything about work and sit in the sun, and talk, -- and have fun. I walked back from work today, -- got out a bit early than usual, since was not feeling like working, and then instead of taking the tram or the train, decided to walk back. The University is in the center of the town, very close to the old town of Bern, and the place where I live is in the westernmost part of the city. I've never walked back before, but today I did.
And I felt the sorrow. Not the persistent one that knocks, and bothers you; but the one so deep, so meaningless, and so mild, that you would not be able to express it. Evening is really powerful. I could explain all the three adjectives that I used to describe it, but I choose not to --- characterizing the feeling in any set of words would not only miss the point, but would be wholly inadequate. 

There is too much misery in this world --- let's spare the one over trivial misunderstandings. 

Identification

Today I felt sad. Why? A very common reason --- some series which I used to watch with quite a bit of interest had one of the characters killed! Oh, that's preposterous -- I hear you say -- it's just some cooked up fiction, for God's sake.

Really? Maybe it is. But it is so much more -- much so much more. I don't need to emphasize how much. Do you know, years back -- it's more than a decade by now (ah, how the time flies!), when I used to write a diary, I wrote something about these stories, movies, serials, ..., whatever all there is. I don't remember exactly what I said, but it was something like this: Real life ups and downs, happiness and sadness, ..., are all either over-dramatized, or under-dramatized (really, the director has a flavor for dramatization, hasn't he?) or just adequate (wow, I hear somebody say, just the one who should win a prize..) versions of what we see made up in the cultural arts. (This was written in a simple but elegant language, though, in a fit of emotion, when what you really feel has a very high probability of coming out pure and elegant...I am proud of the language, even though I can't seem to recollect exactly). Of course, the rational friend says, where else would stories have come from? or Art? or Music? or Theater? All are, one facet, or another, of the real life.

Yes, I tell my pragmatic friend -- how right you are! And yet sometimes, I see movies, I read books, ... just to escape from this real world, to be something I never can be in real life, ... . Oh come on, says my pragmatic friend, grow up! You are no longer a kid who lives by dreams? But, I contradict him, when you grow up, can't you have dreams? He is really pragmatic, since he always has a ready pragmatic answer: Sure, just have a realistic one. Do good, become famous, get money, --- there are so many things to dream of. Yes, you are right indeed, I say, what is the use of these dreams of fiction?

But then why does my heart weep? I tell him nothing no more. He will never understand it, -- and yet I weep, wait for the waves of time to wash out the structure that the particular book/movie/serial created in my sandy conscience. The trouble is that, the conscience is not fully made of sand --- it is rocky at places. And then the water has a hard time doing the job.

Does, --- should the writer have the supreme power to decide who will live and who die? Can he act like a God? Writing about a decade back I had argued in the affirmative. He created the character, and he has the right to decide what to do with it. But, now I realize, it may not always be the right thing to do. When the character out the author's pen grows life like, and affects so many people's lives, dreams, feelings, emotions, ..., should the author still do whatever he likes with the character? Does he get to wield the power, do whatever he wants with so many people? I don't whats the right thing to do --- and neither I am going to argue for anything with my sandy-rocky conscience.

Meanwhile, I will just let it weep. Farewell, Ed! That's one more dream not come true...