The TimePass of India

"Sir.... Sir?" she said pushing the pen towards him, "Will you take it?"

He looked at her and smiled.

xxx

He peered inside the Fiat 118ne window to look at the dashboard. He had a fight with his friend the other day that 118ne was faster than a Maruti 800. He stood on his tippy toes to see clearly what the speedometer said - Aha! 140 kmph! Much faster than the 120 on the Maruti speedometer. He was correct. He was all of 6 years... The life long love affair with cars had just begun.

xxx

Those were the 90s, the economy had just opened up and new things, for the first time for a lot of us, were now available. Liberalization brought with it shiny Hot wheels toy cars. These were small models of mostly American cars that could now be bought even at the local kirana store, well , at least few of them stocked up.

He was 7 years old and liked helping his mother with groceries. Every time he went to the store, he looked at the Hot wheels placed in a glass shelf which quite innocently came up to his eye level. That was the time when middle class parents only indulged their kids out on their birthdays, sometimes not even that. He knew his parents weren't rich, but every time he went to the store, there it was, a gleaming hot wheels right at his eye level. One day, he just went ahead and asked for it. His mother asked the man behind the counter for the price. 25 rupees.

"That is too expensive. Do you know how many Wibs bread would come for that money?"

They started walking, he started calculating. She was right. 5 loaves of Wibs Bread. That was too much bread for a 7 year old to handle. Not that their family was living hand to mouth. No. But he was being taught the cost of things, and what better way than Wibs Bread.

The next time they were at the grocery store, he threw a fit, a very rare tantrum, he really wanted that Hot wheels. His mother took him away kicking and screaming. He had seen tantrums work with his friends and their parents, she knew what he was trying and she knew that he had to know that it is not okay. Gave him the thrashing of his life once home.

And that was that.

xxx

It was the 90s version of a party. His parents were invited to a dinner and he tagged along. Unlike today, house parties actually had home cooked food. They were doctors, with two very well behaved sons, who even had a bunk bed. This is 1995. This is when Hum Aapke Hain Kaun was considered entertainment! They had their own room and a bunk bed. In 19-freaking-95.

Post dinner, as the men settled down to discuss politics and the women were busy exchanging recipes, the 3 boys, were sent to the kids room.

The room was painted blue and the curtains matched the paint. The bedsheets matched as well. In a corner a basket ball was placed and they had a season ball (the kind Tendulkar plays matches with!). The room was spotless. It looked like a girl had made a room for boys.

His parents werent poor by any stretch of imagination, sure they werent doctors, but they had decent jobs. They both worked for the government. Father for LIC and mother for a bank. Government bank, of course.

"What do you want to play?" The elder one asked.
Surely, they might have one hot wheels, he thought. They have all this awesome stuff.
"Do you have a hot wheels?" He said 'a' hot wheels. One.

The younger one ran to the cupboard and pulled out a plastic bag, with some saree name on it, Paneri or something.

He then sat on the bed and unloaded the contents of the plastic bag. Hot wheels. So many. Probably 20 or 30. This was Heaven.

"Come play with us!" the elder one said.

He just stood there, calculating how many Wibs bread could these many hot wheels buy.

145.

And that was that.

xxx

They had just come out after watching the 6 to 9 show. Shahrukh was good, but how had he reached so far in his career he wondered. He hadnt liked the movie, a 10 year old boy wasnt the target audience of a romantic muscial anyway. It was July, and like it normally does in Bombay, it was raining when they came out of the single screen theatre. They had a scooter, they had to wait for the rain to stop, the car wallas pulled out of the parking one after the other.

Then it happened, a red car pulled up in front of them. It was just like the car in the song (Ho gaya hai tujhko toh pyaar), with the three pointed star and the red paint that gleamed even in that rainy night.

"What is that car?" he said pointing to it, a little too loudly. His dad gently pushed his hand down. Back in the 90s, you did not point at things, you did not point at people, you did not point at anything.

Then maybe because he was in a good mood, or because he liked the film, "That is a Mercedes." he said. "You see that star? That is the logo of the company"

"Just like in the picture!"

"Yes. Just like in the picture"

Those were the times when you only saw Maruti, Fiat and Ambassador on the road. Seeing a Mercedes roll by you was like meeting a film star or something.

As they started to walk to the parking, he looked back at the car in the distance, it's tail lights lighting up as it went over a speed breaker, he thought - One day....

And that was that.

xxx

He did not leave any chance to ask for Hot wheels. Whenever he saw his father in a good mood which was rare, he would slyly slip in the topic of how great those toy cars are and how all his friends had at least one.

"Why dont you come first, in class? If you come first, I will buy you one."
"Promise?" He couldnt believe it. All he had to do was to study hard and come first!

He came third in the unit test, then 3rd again in the Semester, then 2nd in Unit test II and then finally.... 3rd again. He went to his dad, hoping for some consolation prize. After all he worked hard, what could he do if he couldnt come first.

"No. The deal was for you to come first. No first, no prize. Life is tough."
Maybe Life is tough, and maybe it is unfair, but maybe a 10 year old boy doesnt have to know it yet.

And that was that.

xxx

It was Diwali, his Dad had moved up to the Manager position in LIC and the LTA was good enough to take the family out of the country. Which was obviously going to be Nepal. It was off season as it gets quite cold but Diwali in Kathmandu but it is worth experiencing so off they went.

Someone suggested they visit the local bazaar, there was memorabilia there, products by local artisans and even some chinese products. Back then, Chinese products hadnt taken over the world and the Indian mentality still put imported stuff above Indian made, even if it was made in Nepal, or china for that matter.

As they were walking through the bazaar, he saw it there. A gleaming Red colour Hot wheels Mercedes. "How much?" he asked.

"100 for the pack" the stall owner pointed at a packet with Chinese looking inscriptions and 6 cars in it. 6 cars for 100? This was a un-freaking-believable. This was a deal. This was a no-brainer. There was a Merc in there, a Ford, a Chevy, and a bunch of brand names he didnt even know. Remember this is before Hyundai even set its foot in India.

He ran up to his dad-
"It's only 100 rupees" He said with eyes that reeked of desperation. He had let his self respect go. This demand could very well be turned down like all his other demands, but he had put himself out there. This was once in a lifetime. He was never going to come back here again, even if it did, would it be during Diwali, even if it was, would 6 cars come for only 100 rupees? It was worth a risk, it was worth getting his self respect get a little more maligned.

His father looked at the stall that was 20 yards away, in his excitement, he hadnt even said what that 100 rupees was for, he just stood there, his arm pointing towards the stall.

Dont know if it was the spirit of Diwali, or something in the Kathmandu air, his father pulled out a 100 rupee note and handed it over to him. It felt great. He bought the chinese knock off and came home.

And that was that

xxx

He looked at the 6 cars placed on his study table. It made him feel guilty. 20 Wibs bread loaves he thought. This is what happens when a 11 year old boy spends half his life calculating the cost of things. He learns the cost, but misreads the value.

He took the cars to play with his friends, who were floored with the chinese graphics and the imported tag.  11 year old boys are idiots.

"I like these cars. They are imported, no?" A friend said.
"Yes. You dont get this stuff in India. This is not metal, this is top grade plastic. This will never rust, you know?" He said. Sales came naturally to him.
"Can I buy one?"

Why not, he thought. That way he could give back the money to his dad and get rid of his guilt.
"You can buy the ford for 50." He would sell 2 cars and then get to keep 4 cars. This was a windfall situation.
"No, I want the Mercedes," the kid said.
"Mercedes is not for sale. You can pick up any 2 of the rest."
"No, I want the Mercedes. You take 100 if you want."

For that kid, the one that got pocket money, 100 was 4 days pay. For him, however, for him it took 4 years to get here. But 100, for 1 car. That was clearly a profitable deal. There was value in this transaction.

And then, that 11 year old boy, who had spent 4 years, fighting, crying, justifying that he deserved a hot wheels, even if it was a cheap knock off, with what would have dented the hearts of the hardest men, handed over the red toy to his friend.

And that was that.

xxx

He looked at the pen and the well dressed girl who sat in front of him. He thought about the well behaved boys, what are they upto nowadays? He thought about the friends, what are they doing? He thought about the boy who bought the car from him, wonder what car does he drive?

"Sir?" she smiled, "any problem?"

He looked at her, then at the Silver Mercedes behind her, the 3 pointed star shining.

"Sir.... Sir?" she said pushing the pen towards him, "Will you take it?"

He looked at her and smiled.

"Yes.... Do you have it in Red?"

And that was that.

XXX

Note: Annoying and preachy post.

"There should be a semi-colon here," she said pointing her finger against my laptop screen. I looked in her sky blue eyes, a shade darker than the sky blue on a clear summer day. We were working on a report that we had to submit in a hour's time. Frankly, I would have liked get the thing over with in 15 minutes and then just relax with a cup of coffee in the cafeteria for the rest 45 minutes day-dreaming. I was in Germany. One could keep staring at the fallen snow - snow can make you think.

"It is not important." I said. Yes, it wasnt. What importance does a semi colon have in a report that is 16 pages long! At first, I thought it was my male ego rejecting an improvement by a girl (who might be a couple of times more intelligent than me), but then when I thought about it objectively - Did the the absence of a semi-colon reduce the quality of the content in any way? - I thought I was correct, the semi-colon isnt important.

"It is important. It might not change the meaning, but it should be there. Also, you have two spaces here instead of one, that has to go too.." she said pointing to the double space between two words.

"If that is a problem, then you can go ahead correct all of this." I am not very accepting to criticism as you can tell. I walked up to the coffee machine and pressed the buttons angrily. She tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear and started working.

After she was done, I was still a little miffed, but she was happy. We just managed to upload the file in time, instead of being 45 minutes early and having all that time to day-dream.

"But see? Now we submitted a report that is perfect in all aspects." she said.

"It was perfect when I wrote it." I can be quite a kid about my work. If I did it, it must be awesome!

She smiled. "Sure, it was." She ruffled my hair. "Now take me out for lunch, Mr.Perfect."

I didnt give up easy, while lunching (is that a word?) I asked her all sorts of questions, the most important being - Why does a missing semi-colon matter? Who cares? Does it help us get a better grade? Does it reduce the quality in any way?

"Not everything should be done for something." She said.

Wow.

"Somethings should be done because they have to be done - to make everything better."

Huh?

It took me 3 years to understand what she meant.

***

India is in a terrible state. In most of our cities the infrastructure is crumbling. One trip to Andheri-Kurla road (or Andheri or Kurla for that matter) in Mumbai and it will make you question your love for Mumbai. One trip to East Delhi and all your beliefs of smooth and wide Delhi roads will disappear. I just name two cities here, but if I start writitng the things wrong with our country, I might end up writing a book (Also if I start writing about the things that I like about India, I might end up writing two books. But that is not the point. The aim is to point out the things we suck at and get that in place)

We love mediocrity. Think about all the times you were told - "Chalega, yaar"  and it made you feel warm comfort, instead of feeling terrible that you were now dependent on someone else's assessment of whatever you have done.

We love mediocrity.Think of all the Salman Khan, Shahrukh Khan, Rohit Shetty movies that we watch. Jawani Deewani made 100 Cr? Where is your intelligence? What about our TV shows? Name 3 good shows on Indian TV?

We love mediocrity. Look at our Politicians. We choose them. Based on caste, mostly. Now some of you who are still reading this, good educated people think that they dont choose on the basis of caste. Well, you do. Maybe not caste, but friendship. If there was a election tomorrow in your office or college, and a friend, not a close friend, but the kind you smile and wave at, is standing in the election, versus a guy who actually has a plan to make the office/college(canteen) a better place, you would choose the guy you smile and wave at. He/she is known, hence safer. That is exactly what the uneducated do.

We love mediocrity. While choosing an umbrella, we choose the cheapest one, not the one built to last. Nothing today is built to last.

But we were not always like this. Did you hear about the floods in Uttarakhand? How all the houses were washed away but a temple built 1300 years ago stood intact? What are we constructing that will stay standing in 3313 AD? The Bandra-Worli sea link? Cuffe Parade? Lutyens, Delhi? The airports? They cant even handle a couple of rainshowers.

If you get time, have a look at the old buildings, british buildings, no, not necessarily british buildings. We unnecessarily put them on a pedestal. Go have a look at the buildings Maharajas built. They lost their kingdoms, in 1800s, had money, but not as much as they did pre 1800s, still, when you have a look at what they built - it was built to last! They were Indians just like you and me! They didnt have blue eyes or blonde hair. They spoke the same language as we do. They had access to the same literature and values as we did.

So what has changed? The power shifted to the people's hands. Now 70% of India's uneducated population took control (It is convenient to blame the British for all our problems, but this problem was particularly caused by them over 150 years of their rule. Sure they introduced school and there were more people who could read and write now, but as you know literacy and education arent synonms.Case in point - Australia ) Now they chose who will rule us. As time passed, India's uneducated population increased. And today it must be close to 90% (again, literacy and education have no relation. See that Goswami guy on TV and you will know what I mean)

Solution?

No immidiate solution. But if this happens - A dynamic leader comes along, well meaning leader, and by some marketing genius manages to sell his idea across states and castes, and sits on the throne - and rules it for the next 5 years, like a king, and not like a minister, things will start changing.

***

I am an eternal optimist. I have faith in the country and its people. But each of us will have to identify where we are missing the semi-colons. Are we submitting our reports too early. Are we doing everything we are supposed to do to make things perfect?

"Somethings should be done because they have to be done - to make everything better." Will we remember that?

This has been pending for a long long time. I did this trip last year. I have been meaning to write about this for a long time, but just couldnt get the right inspiration - Something happened the other day that reminded me of that trip, of Europe in general and I thought, I have to write about this. So here goes....

+++

The Euro rail screeched to a halt. I was sleepy. I had this brainwave of saving money on hotels by travelling in the night and roaming around the cities in the day. Traveller tip: Don't think you can save money by sacrificing sleep. I peered through the window. I saw a dimly lit platform, the Indian equivalent of Bhusaval. Something was wrong. This didnt look like Europe. Had we unknowningly slipped into a diffferent dimension? I thought about Tarantino's only good movie - Hostel 1.

Police entered the bogey. We were the only brown guys in that bogey, maybe in the entire train. An overfed sniffer dog entered, brown, hairy, his eyes the blue of merciless Siberian winter. His master looked very much the same, only, he had more hair. He looked at us suspiciously and then moved on. I repented my decision to do an Euro trip across Eastern Europe. I had chosen to visit areas where even my adventure crazy white friends had not been. Right then, we were somewhere between Slovenia and Croatia. My mind had now drifted to the more gruesome Hostel 2.

Then entered a police woman. Light blue shirt, dark blue pants, which seemed to fit her so well. Ah, so well. Tall, dark brown hair, light brown eyes, curves in the right places, with her right hand on the compartment door and the left hand on her hip, she said - Hi boys.... And smiled. Her smile lit up the compartment. In 2 mins, we had gone from the "Hostel" series to "That-movie-in-the-system32 folder" series.

I looked at JD, he smiled. We had both seen movies which started with women in uniform saying - Hi boys. But nothing of that sort happened. She asked for our passports, wished us happy journey and we were on our way.

Every morning we were greeted with beautiful landscapes whizzing past our compartment window. Had I clicked all those pictures, that I decided to keep engraved in my memories, I would have a mini-desktop wallpaper company by now.

It would be tiresome to share everything that happened during the trip, and anyway, that is not a point of a trip or a blog for that matter. I will share with you all the awesome things that happened on the trip.

+++

So this one morning, we reached Zagreb. We decided to live in the outskirts, which I realised, unlike Mumbai which stretches for like 40 kms, is like 3 kms from the city centre. So, we were super hungry because all the travel and everything. Actually, we are almost always super hungry. So we entered this small cafe. There was a caring middle aged lady and a cute girl in her early 20s serving us. So, since they were so nice, and we were so hungry, we ordered almost everything veggie on the menu. After a hearty meal, I took out two 10 Euro notes and placed them in front of them. The following dialogue followed.

"No, no. Not Euro. Croatia currency please"
Our research was so extensive that we didnt even know Croatia didnt have Euro.
"But I dont have Croatian currency. I only have Euros"
"No. No Euros."
Seriously?! You are saying no to the most powerful currency in the world!!
"Umm... I am sorry, but we dont have any Croatian currency." I said.
The 20 year old who was quiet till now, said -
"That's okay. You dont give money."
And she said that with a smile, which meant she wasnt being sarcastic.
"I will exchange Euros, and give you money" I said.
"Okay." she said. Her smile still intact. JD and I however, had a worried look. How could they trust us? What if we never came back?
The first thing that we did was exchange money at the hostel and pay those ladies.
"What do you suggest we do here" I asked the pretty one as I paid her in croatian currency.
"Spend lots of money in Croatia," she laughed.
I made sure I leave behind a huge tip. Croatians are the most patriotic people I met on the trip. They have a beautiful country, ravaged by years of war, they have put together a rather optimistic folk.

+++

We stayed at the awesomest places. So in Slovakia we stayed at a hostel that was once a prison. Then in Bratislava, we stayed at a hostel that was actually filmed in The Hostel. There was a bar downstairs which was constructed on that exact theme, with severed head and legs and everything.

In this particular hostel, the bathroom wasnt attached. So basically it was a common bathroom. What we didnt realise that it was common to boys and girls. So, this is what happened, the bathroom was occupied, so I thought I shave my 2 day old stubble. I was shaving, when the bathroom door opened, a girl, must be from southern Europe guessing from her hair colour, walked out, dripping, and picked up the towel that she must have placed there before the shower, wraped it around herself and walked away. I just stood there, foam on my face and water running.

+++

There is one more incident I have been trying to forget, but it is etched in my memory. So there is a hot water spring in Budapest, which of all the cities is my favourite city to live in Europe, apart from Berlin obviously. Budapest feels a lot like Mumbai, as in, it is really vibrant. So, after a soak, we decided to just lay in the sun, coz you know, we arent tanned already or something. So we came to the locker area and this German guy started talking to JD in German. I say, how did he know that we knew the language? It is not like we look German or anything!

The discussion moved from Budapest to Berlin, and suddenly, the middle aged man dropped his towel. Right in front of us! And there were more guys around! Nobody seemed to notice or mind. We were astonished, scarred for life, rather. And he kept talking. Like that thing hanging there didnt matter, discussing politics with two brown guys he had just met in the locker room! And while that wasnt weird enough, there was a japanese boy with his father and they undressed and dressed up right in front of each other. Like nobody used a towel to hide anything and stuff! And this shock came after living in Germany for 1 year. It is still there stuck in my head, just doesnt go away. :P

+++

Once we were cycling through Slovenia, I think it was, really, it is a blur. We came across a party in a garden. How can you be so chilled out to have a private party in a public garden? Only then, we realised it wasnt a private party. Everybody who passed by was invited.

This bunch of guys welcomed us and gave us a shot of something to drink. It was alcohol for sure, but they didnt tell us what it was. Imagine Vodka, if it was compressed to somehow increases the alcohol content, that was it. It burnt my inside.

What is this? - I asked
This is Serb drink. Very strong, no?
Yes. Very strong, I said, shaking my head sideways to get my orientation right.
Good. Here one more.

Then a few more.

Come come, you dance with us. - They said. We danced around in circles. With men, children, middle aged ladies, young ladies, grandmas, the priest. All this even before knowing our names or knowing where we were from!

I am Volkovich (or something like that), he is Buskovich, and so on. We told them our names, which I am sure sounded gibberish to them.

After the frolicking was done, in a serious voice and broken English they told us that they were Serb farmers who had lost land when Yugoslavia fell into several pieces. But before the atmosphere could die out, another round of drinks was served and everything was merry again.

+++

Though I love India and Mumbai esp, every time I pass an open drain, or an encroached footpath, I do miss Europe. I no longer find solace in the fact that we arent a rich country, coz you dont need to be a Germany to have beautiful road and wide sidewalks, even countries like Croatia can be beautiful if they want to. We just need people who believe in this country as much as they believe in theirs. A friend asked me if I missed Europe. Well, sometimes, I do. Very much.

I know I have been missing from the blogosphere and guys who read me, all 3 of you, have been wondering where I am and when I will be back. Well, worry no more, your prayers have been answered.

While you have been praying for my heroic return, I had been writing my second novel. It is ready and kicking in my belly (Pregnancy metaphor!) waiting to conquer the world. So now that I am done with that, I return to what I liked doing the most. Blogging. so here goes ...

A friend's friend who just returned from the US to settle in India wrote about the top 10 things she misses about the US. That got me thinking, what do I miss about Germany. But the Indian that I am, what do I not miss about Germany too. So given below are the two lists.

1. German Bakery, which they call just "Bakery" in Germany.

"Bread has it's own taste, it has a special texture which depends on the grain used, the temperature of the oven, the time of the year," said a German friend of mine when I said "Bread is just Bread." She scolded me for being such a jerk and made me apologise to a loaf of bread.

Well, for Germans, bread is not just bread, it is a way of life. And I miss it more than anything else. Ah, those Mozzarella sandwiches, the Mozzarella warm from the warm bread just out of the oven, the cold lettuce, the tomato, the cucumber.... sigh....

2. Buses

So, how do you identify a over-developed country? Good roads? No homeless people? Good public transport? Right? Wrong!

All these things define only a developed country - a US, a Qatar or a Italy. An over-developed country is the one where the buses bend towards the sidewalk as you get down. Yes. They have so much money that they can make a bus BEND!

3. Extra Virgin olive oil

So what is Extra Virgin really? What are other olive oils? Just Virgin? And what about olive oils who have had sex? And what about the ones who have babies? What are they called? Mommy and Poppy Olive oil? And what if they have many babies? Extra Mommy and Poppy olive oil?

The point being, I love olive oil. In India, regardless of how much you pay to get that oil shipped, it just doesnt remain the same.

4. Red Wine.

"You-have-a-to-a-try-a-this," said my Italian friend pouring me a glass of red.

To be honest, I didnt think I would like it. I was hoping I wouldnt, considering the cost of these things. I had the first sniff, sipped it, made it cure for sometime in my oral cavity and yessss.... the thrill of strong Italian wine!!!

"How-do-you-like-a-this?" He asked.

"I-like-a-this-very-much-thank-you" I said. I had become Italian!! With just one sip!

I dont dig alcohol, and I dont understand why people go so crazy over it. Blessed with some phenomenal alcohol breaking genes, I have never gotten really drunk, I have never had a hangover and have always repented spending on booze the other day.

I have had some really exquisite wines in my life. Some of the bottles have cost more than 70 Euros, and all of them have changed me as a person. Okay, maybe not. But you get the point.

Whatever you do, dont spend money on French wine. I told a French friend of mine that french women might be pretty, but your wine is nothing to write home about. She got terribly angry with me. Don't say anything about french wine to a french person. They get mad.

If you are Indian your taste buds are used to a certain amount of tingling which the mild french wine just doesnt offer. There. I said it.

The smell of that Italian wine stayed with me forever. I have forgotten the taste, but I swear I can sometimes smell it when I think about it.

5. Blonde babies

God, they are cute. They are good enough to eat. I should know. Burp.

6. Berlin Summer

If you need any evidence that there is a God, and he is a man, you have to visit Berlin in the summer. The country has a winter that lasts 6 months and there are days when you look out of the window and it's like the end of the world. So any presence of Sun is an invitation for the women to show their legs. I have never seen so many near perfect legs together.

7. Wissen Bier

It is wheat beer. It is made out of wheat grain. It is smoooooooth. Beer is an acquired taste. I still havent fully acquired it and I dont think I ever will but Wissen Beer my friend, that is something different.

8. Falafel

If I had a Euro for every time I said - "Ein falafel bitte"

I had so many falafels in Berlin that I became 22% Falafel. I knew the names of the Falafel joints in the city and they knew my name. The Falafel servers were the best German teachers ever. Maybe that is why I speak with a turkish accent! Ah!

9. On-time travel

Okay, so I might be an Indian, but I am more of a Mumbaikar. India is nothing like Mumbai. In fact nothing is quiet like Mumbai. Trains run on time, buses are almost always on time, people dont turn up late for meetings... It is a special place. So, it's not that I am not used to on-time travel. But really, Germany's on time travel is something you could write a book on - for eg-

We were waiting for a bus.

Me: It is 3:43 and the bus is not here yet

Friend: Yeah, it is 3:46 in my watch. Kahan hai yeh bus?

Me: Teri ghadi fast hai?

Friend: No idea. Teri on time hai kya?

Just then the bus arrived and we got in. We quickly checked the timing in our watches. Mine said 3.44 and my friend's said 3.47. The bus was supposed to arrive at 3.41. So according to my watch, it was 3 mins late.

We came home and checked the time online. Turns out my watch was 3 mins fast and friend's watch was 6 mins fast. The bus was on time, our watches werent. We could have adjusted the time according to the bus! No how cruelly awesome is tht?

10. Smooth roads and Mercedes Taxis

Ah, the roads. I have written a very patriotic and moving post about a pothole in Berlin. Enough written.

The 3 pointed star... ah beauty. If I was a car, I would be a Mercedes SLR and I would marry a Mercedes C class and then we would have small Volkswagen mini kids (Dont ask me how two Mercedes give birth to a Volkswagen,it's complicated...)

***

1. Cheap food

The money I used to spend on eating out in Germany could have been used for nobler causes like feeding Rishi, Shammi and Raj Kapoor uncle ke families. Food is so cheap here. I convert everything into euros when I go out and I have a huge smile on my face when I pay the bill.

2. Cheap domestic help

Yeah, go ahead. Call me lazy. Call me a slave driver. (You shouldnt if you are white, because really, you were the slave driver!) But the truth is, doing household chores is no fun!

Now I have met women whose hobbies included cleaning the kitchen and the bathroom (thts one more thing I miss about Germany, meet interesting women!) but it's not my style. I have a simple funda - Life is about doing what u want when u want. *applause people*

I once calculated how much time I spent in a week cleaning my room. It came up to 4 hours in a week! Do you know how productive I could have been in those 4 hours? Okay, not much, but, I dont wanna do it! And I shouldnt have to spend half my salary on getting domestic help!

3. The weather (Mumbai)

This is true only for Mumbai. Okay, if you talk about the muggy weather, I ask you to name one city where you can land without checking weather.com and carrying extra sweaters! I cite, Delhi's +45 degrees of heat and Berlin's -15 degrees of cold and ask you to compare it with 25 degrees all the time in Mumbai land :)

4. Good veg food

The first week that I spent in Germany, I used to look at all foods with an eye of suspicion that comes after years of travelling in crowded trains with a full wallet (What? I have a rich dad?). Everything seemed to contain meat or fish or some other animal. And they dont even consider Fish as meat. Fish is considered vegetarian! How?

I went to a posh hotel in Paris once, ordered wine, over priced of course and French, of course, they bite if u ask for any other wine. They bit off a friend's small finger, it adorns the walls of that hotel now with a tag saying -'Attention sil vous plait, hand will be bite, if ask for other wine. French wine, best wine. C'est la vie.' So coming back to the point, the restaurant had a menu that ran into pages, but they had no vegetarian dish. Zero Veg dishes. I had to finally order odd tasting noodles with vegetables, for which i was overcharged because - "Monsieur, thees ees Chef's speciaaale noodles.."

5. Hindi movies

Downloading is illegal in Germany, okay I know it's illegal in most parts of the developed world, but there they actually enter ur apartment put you and your laptop in jail, which if u ask me, defeats the entire purpose. For all they know, i might be watching sitcoms on my laptop in jail

Now in India, I can watch Zindagi Milega Na Dobara on the big screen and feel bad about paying money for what I could have seen in Germany for free. Any movie that Farhan Akhtar acts in, should be declared tax free, and that money should be taken from Mr. Javed Akhar for giving birth to a boy who has no acting skills whatsoever and thinks he can act. (Arre, yeh toh review ban gaya!)

6. Rickshaw and taxi tht dont cost a bomb

You know how much a richshaw ride costs me in Mumbai? Rs. 11. That is 20 cents. And I reach my destination in one piece (Well, most of the times)

In Berlin, I had to think if I should take the taxi or not. Okay, agreed that all Taxis are Mercedes, but really, sometimes i just want to get from place A to place B without spending my month's salary on the travel.

7. Air conditioners

In the birth place of Mechanical engg, how come they dont have Air conditioners installed anywhere. In berlin, you can sometimes sweat to death. Fyi, Summer Max temp in Berlin is more than that in Mumbai. There are gang wars in Berlin on which gang will get to use the table fan. Many die every summer.

The thing I love about India is, every big shop has an air conditioner and they do not cost a bomb so most of your engg friends can also afford it, making it logical to remain frds with them.

8. 24x7 transport

Mumbai again. See, how this post became what I miss about Mumbai from what I miss about India? That's how cool that city is. Well, not cool as in cold, it's quite humid that way.

You can get from point A to point B in Mumbai at 3 in the morning. You dont have to book cabs on phone or anything. just walk out on to the street and hail a taxi. Trains work round the clock. They say they shut down for 1 hour sometime, I am yet to find what hour. Note: There is a fair chance you wont get a place to sit in the train, unless you board it during non-rush hours, which again I have told is for 1 hour sometime, I am yet to find what hour.

9. Sunday open

This is only for the troubled souls who have spent time in one the better European country like Germany or France, you know, countries who place a lot of importance on silly and useless things like quality of life.

Sunday, everything is closed that includes malls, departmental stores, drug stores, after all the cashiers at the counter need their rest. It can get very tiring - counting money, opening drawers, returning change, closing the drawer.

Here, in mumbai, (I have quit talking bout India, I have a awesomer place to talk about.) everything is open 24x7x364 (15th August is a holdiday)

10. Friends and Family

Yeah, the sensitive guy that I am, I had to include this. It was either this or "Desh ki mitti ki khusboo" (Which is a real thing, btw).

I missed my friends and family when I was in Germany. I remember thinking about my friends and saying to myself - 'They werent all that bad, eh?'. And I missed my sister the most. I have realised there are so many inside jokes that we share. Some of our jokes are single syllable which only we can understand among ourselves... And I am sure my friends miss me, I mean, seriously, how many awesome mes are there in India? And my sister definitely missed me - she said so once every 3 months, which going by her fake pride means she missed me every 3 days. And why not, my parents dont understand any of her jokes! They give her pity laughs! Pity laughs, my friends!

So that is that. Now that I have showed my sensitive side to you, your heart must be full and your eyes must be watery. I know you must want to pour your heart out to me, to tell me how much u missed me while I was gone. To that I say, wipe your tears, and let it pour in the comments...

Till then... Ich sagt, Gesundheit!

I am German. No, I am not 6 feet 4 inches tall and I am not blonde with blue eyes. It is just an image that the Americans have propagated of the Germans. I look like any other European or American, for that matter. I am 6 feet tall and I have dark brown hair and light brown eyes.

I was born in East Berlin. I grew up here. And there was a time when I thought I would die here. I never thought a day would come when I would be able to cross the wall and step onto the western side of Berlin. I had heard it was sparsely populated. I had heard that there were rich people who lived in those parts. They had enough to eat. I had heard.

Who would have thought the communist model would fail so miserably? Everything seemed so right about communism. After we lost the war and were divided into pieces, I dont think any of us were particularly worried about being on the communist side of Berlin. I mean, even if things got worse, we could easily walk over to the other side and start a new life. It was afterall the same country. We, on this side were Germans, as were the folks on the other side.

My father was a staunch communist. It wasnt a derogatory term then as it is now. Actually, if you were 20 and werent a communist, you didnt have a heart. I say, if you are 30 and are still a communist, you dont have a brain. Communism is good, only if you arent human and are untouched by greed. Capitalism is the naked truth. It accepts us for what we are. Greedy little swines. We dont have to put up an act. Capitalism serves us right. Not that it's a permanent solution, as you will see.

My father was such a strong supporter of the communist government that he offered help to build up the Berlin wall. He was 19 years old then. The same age as I was on that cold November afternoon of 1989. Youth back then was so confused. I wonder, if we were any better and I bet our kids at 19 would be more messed up that we are. My father helped build a section of the wall near Checkpoint Charlie. My mother used to tell me that he was mighty proud of it. He really wanted East Germany to flourish. "Communism is the right way" he used to say. But then you cant be that stupid all your life. In the summer of 1971, only weeks after I was born, he tried jumping the Berlin wall, right over the section of the wall that he had helped build.

He was shot by a Russian sniper.

And that was that. If you ask me, I rather be dead that stupid all my life. My father died a smart man's death.

My mother, a qualified German teacher would get paid only as much as the Janitor in the school. It frustrated her. In those days, German as a language was losing its sheen. The Russian Govt. wanted the kids to learn Russian. The lack of importance to her mother language made her bitter. She had never been a Communist. If you ask me, she has never been anything. She doesnt feel the need to join a group to be recognized. She doesnt really love anything, except a green sweater that her mother made for her. She doesnt hate anyone. Not even the communist government. The only thing she hated from the bottom of her heart was the Berlin wall. It took away her husband. The Wall first flirted with their hopes and then crushed them.

I didnt see the wall till I was 15 years old. My mother had forbidden me from seeing it. She said it was evil. It was tainted with the blood of millions of Germans and of my father. It was only when I was in the marching band in our school that we had to pass through Checkpoint Charlie and I got to see the wall. It was all bricks and stone. It had graffiti all over it with words like - Freiheit (freedom).

And now we were walking towards the Wall, sledgehammers in hand - to claim exactly that - Our Freiheit.

***

The other day on my way to office, I saw a sight thats so rare, that in the 9 months that I have stayed here in Berlin, I have seen that sight just once. That sight was the sight of a pothole. A pothole the size of a volleyball. That was to my knowledge, the one and only pothole in Berlin.

I have known Germans too well for too long now. I took a picture of the pothole on my cellphone -- I ll tell you why -- coz 36 hours later, the pothole was gone. I knew this was going to happen. Only, I didnt expect this to happen in 36 hours. For the Germans, a pothole was a national crisis!

As I walked to my office that day, a thousand thoughts flooded my mind.

I remembered the bumpy rides in my own country. I remembered cursing the government, the officials... I tried to remember when was the last time road repairs took only 36 hours? It usually took months of complaining or an accident or better still, a visit by a politician to that road.

People like me, who love their country, start defending their own arguments which expose our incompetencies. Berlin is rich, I thought - they can afford the repairs - we dont have money - maybe one day we will have money - then we ll see...

The truth is - in PPP terms, Mumbai is richer than Berlin. The truth is - we cant hide behind the developing country tag anymore. A boy becomes a man when he takes responsibility for his actions. Maybe its time that we, as a country, grow up.

Honesty is such a virtue. Why have we put people who dont have any in positions of power?

The other day, at a high profile meeting here in Berlin, during a presentation, the name of India came up. The presenter talked about the CommonWealth games fiasco. The theme of the presentation had nothing to do with The commonwealth games.Cheapshot? Yes. It was. It made me cringe. The news reports about Kalmadi never bothered me before, but that day, they did.

And I am sure all is forgotten back home. I have no access to Indian news channels but I am sure news channels must have found a new topic to discuss. I am sure Dhoni's bike/hairstyle or Katrina Kaif's legs/cleavage forms the crux of the breaking news.

Why are we so complacent? Are we so big a country that no one is ready to take responsibility for anything? Are there so many people in there that its easy to find someone to put the blame on?

Do I sound to harsh for your Indian ears? Well, I am just being honest. And you know it.

And its not just us who are like this. I talk to a lot of people around the globe(except India). There is a marked difference in the people from the developing countries and the developed countries - It doesnt really matter what continent the countries are. People in Japan are similar to Germans when it comes to work ethic. While there are a few other countries, which remind me of India sometimes.

Back in India, in MDI, Gurgaon, when we saw our European friends complain about stuff, fight for what they thought was right, while we used - "chalta hai" attitude, each one of us thought they were being fussy. But now that I see them fighting for what's right even in their own country, I understand what their culture is all about. If something is not as it should be - it should be reported. It should be changed. Put into order. That explains the 36 hour repair of the pothole.

I am not saying we should mimic the west. In fact I strongly suggest that we dont. I am just saying, perhaps being complacent is not the best approach to being a successful nation.

Being colonized is the worst thing that can happen to a country. It's worse than losing two world wars. It's like being in a war for 150 years and losing it every year. Little by little, the soul of the nation is dies.A fractured, frail soul takes its place. What follows is appreciation towards the ruler and disrespect for self. This is why we regard learning English as more important than learning other Indian languages. This is why we buy "imported" stuff, even if its made in Taiwan. I have a German friend who I met the other day. She had worn her grandmother's earrings. Of course they were classy and subtle. My question is, how many of the girls in India would wear their grandmom's jewelery? If I was a girl, I wont. They would be too gaudy for today's generation. But arent we supposed to be gaudy? Look at our weddings for example and then compare it with theirs. Look at our festivals then have a look at theirs. Around 200 years ago, not a long time for a country whose civilizations dates back to 2600 BC, we would have been very comfortable in our skin. Now, we are just wannabes.

I dont know if you remember, but around 15 years ago, Doordarshan would show the Population clock everyday at 12 noon. It had this ticker which showed a number close to 92 crores (India's population at that time). It was supposed to spread awareness about family planning. In school you were taught that India's biggest problem was its population. Now, they say we a country of a billion opportunities! In 15 years, we could change the way people think. How many countries in the world have seen that kind of turn around? If you ask me, this quite a time to be born.

GDP without freedom, is just a number - ask the Chinese. Economic superpower, new world, fastest growing economy order are just words - if we cant pull our act together. Being the strongest economy in the world would make no sense if our roads are pothole ridden. Of course, there are other bigger problems. I am talking in figurative terms here.

We dont need to do anything path breaking here. All we have to do, is try our best at doing whatever we do. All we have to do, each one of us, is to take responsibility of our actions. All we have to do, is just try a little harder - 'Cause the best thing about being a billion people is -- even if all of us try a little harder -- its actually... a lot.

[Warning: Very Informative post]

Seriously not kidding -

Friend: "Arre tu Punjab kab jaa raha hai?"

Me: "Punjab?"

Friend: "Haan... MDI, Gurgaon?"

Me: "Abbe woh Punjab mein nahi... Haryana mein hai!!!"

Friend: "Oh... Different hai kya dono jagah?"

Me: *Disappointment*

Well, to be a true Mumbaikar you should forget that there is a world beyond Mumbai. And you dont have to have your last name as Apte, Madhukar, Thakrey etc to be a true blue Mumbaikar. You just have to have utter disregard for presence of a world outside.

Gupta saab: "My son works in Pune"

Thankrey saab: "Pune? Where is it?"

Yes. The world is divided into North Mumbai and South Mumbai. (Subject of another post)

Today, I am going to teach you how to find what European is the white guy standing in front of you. Next week, I ll teach the Europeans how to find what Indian is the brown guy standing in front of you. (Subject of another post... kitne subject mil rahe hain aaj)

But first thing first - I have installed like and Share buttons on every post. Do make ample use of those. And do join the fan page for The Time(pass) Of India. It is very important.

Now, you guys have always known that I am super awesome. Time has come that I reinstate that fact.

My class in ESCP (Which now is the #1 college in the world) had around students coming from 20 nationalities. So it was obvious that I was gonna pick on the subtleties of the accents. So here we go -

What kind of Europeans are they?

*The easiest to identify. If a group of girls are standing talking among themselves and the language turns you on, then they gotta be french.

*If you find someone paying huge amounts of money for small quantities of food - they are french.

*If you meet them in their house and the clothes they wear indoors are better than the clothes you wear outdoors, they gotta be french.

*If you are in a hurry: you want to find if they are french or not - Ask them to say the word - "Home". Yeah. Easy. They ll pronounce it -"Ome". True French guys dont pronounce H.

*Again easy to identify. While Indians in europe will give their right arm for a good Indian restaurant, Italians in Europe will never eat in an Italian restaurant coz it's not authentic enough!

* Their name or Surname ends with E, I or O. It has to be one of the three.

* The north Italians dont like the south Italians and vice-versa. Hmm... Very much like Mumbai. Mumbai, I think is slightly bigger though.

* Tough to point out coz most of them speak good English.

* Will drive on of the following - Merc, Audi, VW. A true German never drives an Opel. Coz GM owns it. And screwed it.

* Will wear on of the following colours - Black, dark Blue, Grey, dark Grey, White. All other colours are considered gaudy.

* If you are in a hurry: to find out if they are German or not - Ask them a sentence with the word "already". Germans misplace "already". For eg- "We have talked already with the Professor."

* You cant go wrong here. Super easy. They are just spanish. And no, not all Spanish guys look like Antonio Banderas. And not all Spanish women look like Salma Hayek... Ah... Salma Hayek.

* If you are in a hurry: Ask them to say - "Project". They ll say -"Proyect." J is pronounced as Y in spanish.

* If you think they are having serious problems speaking the Queen's English, they gotta be British. It has been proved that the British way of speaking English uses up 70% more calories than normal.

* A true English man wont call himself British.

* If you are in a hurry: Ask them to say "Tata". Now that Tata is buying their companies like that guy did in the "Rajnigandha pan masala" ad, everybody in Queens land knows what it is. They pronounce it as "Tatarrr". Yes, complete Indianization of Britian is gonna take longer than expected. :P

* If you find a white person, whiter than others and who speaks decent English, it's gotta be a Scandinavian. Now you cant ask what kind of Scandinavian he is. That would be too much. How big is Scandinavia anyway? As big as Mumbai? :P

* Good people. Good sitcoms. Utter disregard for Grammar. Easy to identify. If they make too grammatical many mistakes with too much confidence, they gotta be Americans.

Well, I think that is about it. If I havent mentioned your nationality, well, it must not be that important. Or maybe there are more students in MDI than in all of your country. If MDI had its way, it would have it's own nationality. the students would be called Mandevians. And you would need a visa to study there. Wait. You do need to crack the CAT to study there. So yes, MDI is a country in its own.

So done. Just to be fair -

* Brown. Easy to identify. Usually found around Indian restaurants. Doesnt find Indian food in Europe authentic, still spends 10 Euro per meal whnever he visits Amrit/Masala/Mirchi etc.

* To distinguish a group of Indians from other south Asian nationalities is very easy. You ll find various degrees of browness in them. You see, some of them are from the south, some from the north and some from Mumbai. But the major factor is the awesomeness of that group.

* In case of hurry: Just ask a group of Indians an address (Indians are always found in a group). Even if they landed yesterday, they will try to help you. Only one in five Indians has acceptable levels of English. Even the one who does, makes the Queen cringe under her crown. Like they say - Heavy lies the head that colonises other countries.

That is about it. This is such an informative post, I wonder if I should put it up on wikipedia.

If I have hurt the sentiments of people of different nationalities, well, if I cared, I wouldnt have written this post in the first place.

Anyway, join the fan page. Be a part of the awesome. http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Timepass-Of-India/117871761604310?ref=ts

I miss Berlin. I miss the bakeries. I know. I missed Indian food when I was in Berlin and now that I am in India, I miss German food. I also miss the buses tilting when the passengers have to get down. I kid you not - the buses tilt towards the sidewalk, so that the passengers dont have to exert themselves. And these are low buses...

The other day, I was getting down the BEST bus and when the bus stopped, I looked at the driver, almost asking him to bend the bus, and he looked at me like - 'Chamaiyla... not happening..'

I have gotten into a habit of saying 'ein' something.. Like when u say that you want- 'ein cola' - that means you want one coca cola. There is no other cola in Germany. There is only coke. I said the same thing to the steward in Air India-

Me: Ein cola bitte?

Steward: Ein?

Me: Sorry - one.

Steward: cola? I have only Pepsi.

Me: Yeah. Any cola is okay.

Steward: But I have Pepsi. No Coca Cola.

Me: Yeah. It's cool. Pepsi is okay, bitte.

Steward: Bitte?

Me: Please

Steward: Go to hell.

Cant blame him. That is too much German for any Indian in a day.

I went to a kirana store the other day to buy vegetables, I said - Ein sambhar bitte, and the guy threw a big potato at me. Not cool I say.

India is changing. I sound like a spoilt NRI right now, but trust me, it is changing... Like for eg, have you noticed the english subtitles on Star World! I mean who the hell came up with that shit?

I accepted when they came up with English Titles for heavyly accented English movies on HBO. But sitcoms? You get a hang of the accent once you see an episode or two. I mean, these Americans make so many grammatical errors that its no fun to read their mistakes in the form of subtitles... We are the only country in the world who can save the Queen's English. This is what it has come to, the Queen needs a country with like 27 languages to save it's own language.

And the Queen needs it I tell you. In the last few months, I have seen Europeans rip the language apart. Especially the French and the Italians. They are getting back at UK for some long time forgotten wars or something. They just massacre the language. It's a lotta fun I tell you. The Germans are exceptionally good at English. Only as good as us Indians though. They use the word 'already' in every sentence, just before the verb - yes, thats the German rule. Pretty much like Indians end every sentence in 'only'. Yes, we are like that only.

I have been told that I have a very hard Indian accent. Which I think is pretty cool considering every one out of five people in the world is an Indian. In 20 years, once we spend enough time abroad, we will make sure everybody sounds like us. That way everyone you meet will have an Indian accent. That will be the day. Ah... Genius.

I was having dinner with a french friend the day before I left. We discussed on the existance of languages. Yes, I ask out french girls so that I can talk about language and culture. To not do that - Please buy my book from (here)

Anyway, so the topic of language came up and she asked me why while writing a sms, I dont use the hindi language. As in the hindi script. I told her that the hindi script is very difficult to use and we read hindi written in latin script faster.

She had a valid doubt- What happens in 40 years when hindi medium schools will reduce in number. As more and more international schools enter the country, hindi is becoming a dispensable subject. What happens when even the kirana wala understands hindi? Will we stop using the language completely.

The Indian in me did answer her - We have been ruled by Mughals for 400 years and then the British for 150 years, hindi just incorporated the influences of Urdu and English, but it still has an identity of its own - I managed to satisfy her doubts, but I wasnt sure myself.

Anyway, I have given you enough food for thought for a day now. I can shift to the more fun stuff.

I have become slow in crossing the road. I mean, I wait for the signal to turn green now. I mean that 'man' wala signal. Most of us dont even know there is such a signal. As a kid, I remember asking my mom why we have that signal when no one follows it. It's like in Delhi, kids ask their father why they have the red signal when they never stop their Santro at a red light :P

I miss Delhi. I miss MDI. And I miss my room at IDPL. For the initial part in ESCP, while returning back home in the U-bahn (Underground train), I would think of my single room at IDPL. That reminds me, I know that my blog is like super-popular in MDI, so here is requesting all juniors -

If you guys know who stays at Hostel 5, Room 7, the single room, let me know. I would like to keep track of the legacy:)

The first reviews of the book have started coming in. The reviews have been positive. What I dont get is how come no girl has read it till date. I have got like 5 men telling me that they liked the book. But none of the girls have told me that they like it. Crossword is acting pricey, so it will take a week more for my novel to be available there. In the smaller shops, it should be available by now. In case you cant find it - You can always buy it from here.

Till the next time, have fun people! :)

P.S. -If any of you know any distributors of books, any kind, please do drop me a comment or a mail. This is in regards to something I have been wanting to start.

When I was a kid, the only night I got to stay up till 12 in the night was the NEW year's eve. Then after I joined Engineering, usually I stayed out till 2 in the night. In MDI, the parties would go on till 4. But the ultimate were always the parties that you read about on Page 3 of News-dailies.

Now its not the same party that most guys have on a Saturday night back home. These parties in Berlin are a trip to crazy and back. Some parties just leave you at crazy and forget to take you back - Beware of such parties. Such parties are suitable only for Michael Jackson (R.I.P mate) and his friends (the ones over 18 years of age).

So I went to this party or should I call them parties coz they are in plural, and it was like crazy. Now I dont want you to think that I havent been to/have been invited for any parties. As you might have guessed, I am like, super popular here in Berlin too... And everyone wants a piece of Arshat coolcucumber... Now being a nice guy, I do like to appease people and go to every party that get invited to, which is Every party btw.

But of course I have my own constraints... I am not a party machine now, am I? Wait... maybe I am!

So this pretty blonde girl asked me out... I kid-you-not, she really did...!! So maybe she called like a group of 8 people to go out, but my friends in India and my son are gonna hear a different story! :P

If I have learnt anything from German TV, it would be never to turn down a blondie.

Now my regular readers (all 3 of you) know that I am a quiet guys who usually keeps to himself unless he really likes you after which he showers you with a mix of funny anecdotes and knowledge tit-bits. If you have noticed that I am like that with you, go buy yourself a chocolate medal. Others, keep trying :P

So as a quiet guy, I never really attended many parties. My engineering background and my straight A's made sure I spent Saturday nights cuddling with my books. Okay, go ahead make fun of me... But now, I can talk bout cars till dawn and you can not! And some of that talk does turn on some hot girls in the class, so there! In your face!.... Okay, I am kidding. My little 3rd and 4th cousins read this blog and I would like to tell you guys, car talk aint hot... Cuddling with books takes you nowhere! Maybe it takes you to IIT or better SPCE, but we have a girl:boy ratio of 1:147, that's where you want to end up? haan? haan? :)

The night started with quiet drinks. And it ended with quiet drinks... But inbetween lay the crazy. I wont explain the crazy as a timeline... It just started randomly, like it used to happen in class back in the 6th grade when the teacher was not around. One notorious guy with the name Chetan or Karan used to throw a chalk at someone and then would start the chalk fight of the century. The fight would end with one of the chalk pieces hitting the teacher between the eyes.. wait.. does this story sound like David and Goliath to any of you?

The evening had started at around 8 and all of a sudden it was 3 in the night! The night had just begun... Imagine that! The night began at 3!

Now in Mumbai/Delhi, the pubs have a realistic feel to them. They spend money for it to look swanky and stuff. There is a huge dance floor depending on whether you are Delhi or Mumbai. Its smaller if you are in Mumbai, coz, well, lack of space. Btw, did you know that in 1997, Mumbai real estate was costlier than Manhattan?! without the PPP! So anyway, there is a DJ playing songs with the words - Mainu, tainu, Ahun Ahun, balle, shava if you are in a Delhi pub and English songs if you in Mumbai. The number of English songs played depends on how further south Mumbai are you ready to go! There are 3-4 big bouncers in pubs in Mumbai to control the crowds. In Delhi the number of bouncers and their body-size doubles to control drunk Sardarjis, most of whom are as big as the bouncers themselves.

The bar occupies double the area and have more people crowding it than Mumbai. The bartenders are themselves drunk and go like-

"Mainu nahi karna pyaar.. ahun ahun ahun" when asked for a drink...

The point is, it looks regular... In the pub we went to in Berlin, well, it was like the inside of a Submarine... It was all red and green and blue and bare brick walls. It has all these pipes running through the pub. And there was this huge pipe with sofas inside and stuff!! How cool...

Now there werent any Bouncers in this club or maybe they must have hid themselves after they saw me coming. I tell you, the tales of my bravery are spread far and wide. But the bartenders were scary. I am so used to ahun..ahun..ahun... when asked for a beer. And they werent drunk at all!

I went -"Ein Bier bitte?" (One beer please, I hope it means that)

"Diese? oder Diese?"(This or this one?)

She could make out there were two different types of beer in the fridge!! She wasnt drunk even by a bit! Disappointing I tell ya! :P

The songs played were without any lyrics - they went - dhumchuk dhumchuk twing twing twing... And people - i-kid-you-not - the people had the beat memorized!!!! So after dhumchuk dhumchuk, they went in chorus - twing twing twing... It was in one word - Awesome!

So I was just soaking in the twing twing twing in me and trying to synchronise my dance steps, giving the Germans the complex of their lifetimes, just then a girl comes to me and says -

"What?" I shouted.

"You Indian?" she shouted. It was difficult to hear her over the dhumchuk dhumchuk

"Yes, also Kathak is from India" I shouted proudly.

So after getting my ego thrashed from a girl whose only sense of dancing was to sway her curls from left side to the right, I went and sat in one of those Submarine sofas. And there I saw a boy and girl... well... since my cousins are reading it - I saw a boy and a girl "make notes". Now its cool in Germany to "make notes" in the train, airport, taxi, Brandenburger Tor, but these two were making like notes real hard... Like they had an exam coming up. The girl was also reciting the notes they were making. I am no prude. Well I am a lil. I made sure I made the notes makers a little conscious. hehe. What? Daddy's gotta have some fun too!

I hid behind the bar to see if the curly haired girl who had crushed my dancing ego had left. She was there dancing, thankfully here hair covered her face and eyes and she couldnt see me dancing in the corner. I was doing the best moves Berlin had seen since the last time Michael Jackson was here and I was giving them what they wanted. Obviously, the pretty blonde girl I had come there noticed me and invited me to dance with her.

Now I was dancing my heart out when I froze. My lower jaw fell down, forming a huge gap, formerly known as the pie-hole. The girl stopped dancing and shouted-

"Isnt dancing your thing?"

Of course dancing is my thing! I just showed Berlin the dance moves!

I came back and sat on a bench made of pipes and bricks. I now disclose, for the first time on this blog, what I actually saw that made me stop in between my jig -

I saw.. ahem... two girls "make notes" Oh yeah... I saw what most of Mechanical Engineers with, usually just 1 girl in their class dream of! Everytime there are two girls - standing, talking or the best - fighting, they think something will happen that would make them start taking notes! But it never does happen!!

Today, I became the first in my class of SPCE Mechanical Engineering, class of 2007, to witness it. If any of you have already done it, I have a blog and i have written it down... So I am officially the first, suck it up!

So anyway, after having so much of crazy, I hate to admit, I was tired. And I was the only one of my group who was tired. For the rest, the party had just started! They did some pub hopping, which essentially means, go from one pub to another till all the pubs in the city close down post noon.

I came out of the dark interiors of the pub into the soft light of the morning Sun. The slight chill of the German Summer was in the air. We sat in the taxi and they dropped me at the station. I got into the train. Swaying slightly as the train rocked the rails. It was 7 in the morning. I had partied for the last 11 hours!

I remembered the Page 3 headlines announcing that the party went on till the wee hours of the morning. Wee hours meaning 5 am. Here I was, wondering about how MDI parties lasted till 4 in morning and that seemed a big deal. I remembered how as a kid, staying awake till 12 at New years eve seemed like a big deal. And now, here I was wide awake at 7 am, with a night of dhumchuk dhumchuk, making notes and pub hopping behind me. I looked out of the window to see my station approach. I got out of the train, did a little jig and twing twing twing.....

I started blogging on a winter day on Jan 19 2007. Or was it Jan 17 2007? It doesnt really matter much.. If you parents came and told you that you were born 3 days before the date you thought you were, would it matter? Birthdays, CGPAs, salaries, no. of girl who find you hot, is just a number... You should never let it go to your head. This is the kinda speech I would give to my son if I forgot his bday. Yeah, got it all figured out.

That reminds me, I love kids. Especially the blonde ones. Blonde babies are the super subset of cuteness. They are so blonde.. and so pink! Sometimes I am hungry, and I see a blonde baby, I want to eat it up.. they are that cute! (and tasty!)

Talking about about blondies, I know how you horny bastards have arrived on this blog. You searched for hot blondes and google directed you to this blog. Guess what? There are no pictures of hot blondies here... Well, just so that you dont feel cheated I ll throw in one.. But just one! This one-

Coming back tot he super interesting topic of blondies, well, I went to this place in Berlin called Brandenburger Tor. I would have posted the pic, but its essentially a gate, and I know that most of you dont want to look at a huge gate after looking at the blondie pic. Most of you have stopped reading already.

So this place, its surrounded by a sea of Blonde German girls. Now I have seen French girls, and I am not arguing about their beauty. They are amongst the prettiest women in the world. But German girls are real pretty too. Different from French girls. But pretty. I dont know how to describe their prettiness without being vulgar.

So anyway, I am surrounded by a sea of pretty girls, but it gets better. (Special request to my engineering friends : Dont execute your fantasies, nothing of that sort happened). You see, Germany is cold. Winter lasts for like 6 months here. So every time the Sun shines, people storm out like Indians do on the 26 Jan sale at Big Bazar. And the girls see the Sun as a special invite to show their legs.

So there are legs all around me. Amongst the best legs I have seen ever.

A note to the girls who read my blog (all three of you), you wont really understand what a guy's fixation with legs is. It's difficult to explain. But to give you an idea what good legs look like, following are a few pointers

The point is, they were pretty girls with short clothes and long legs. Now even in Mumbai, when you see a pretty girl with like nice legs, you are bound to give her a customary glance.

A glance has to be limited between 3 sec (for it to be a legally valid glance) to 7 secs (for it not to label you as a bloody tharki by your friends.)

Its easy to give a glance in Mumbai, there arent that many girls who wear short skirts all at the same time. You see, unlike Germany, Sun makes more appearances than Paris Hilton's naked videos do. So in Mumbai, out on the streets, if there is a group of girls going out for a party or dinner or something, there's only one girl who wears a short skirt. It's like a pact between Indian women. Only one of them can look superhot on a particular day. They have divided days according to it - Wednesdays for Preeti, Thursdays for Ragini, Fridays for Priya.. you get the drift... Btw, the names are random, I dont know any girls by these names. The order of hot looking days is also random. Or is it? ;)

So, in Mumbai, you give a customary glance to a girl's legs. I dont think there are any thoughts going on in the guys mind. It's just a way of appreciating something that's a gift from God or Talwalkar's gym. I bet even Abhishek Bacchan, married to one of the world' s most beautiful women, still glances at let's say, Rimi Sen. (did I just break AB's marriage?)

So the thing is, while you can glance legally in Mumbai, you cant do the same in Germany because of the unlimited resources! They are all around. You spend around 5 minutes checking out, trying to decide on which pair deserves a glance. You see, all of them deserve more than a glance, but now that you have choice, very much like in capitalist countries, you are confused.

So I spent 5 mins, still confused on where I should stop and give that much deserved glance.

I sat on a bench to contemplate, like they do in the movies. In that sea of pretty women legs walking from in and out the Brandenburger Gate, I could think of only one pair. The worst part is, she wasnt even here. The best pair of legs belonged to a girl who I had left back home. And even when presented with so many choices, I couldnt think of anyone else but her.

This phenomena, while pretty confusing for the guy who experiences it, causes awe to the readers. Most of them are already posting this on the Infy BB, while others are forwarding it to their friends, girlfriends, some are also forwarding it to their boyfriends, to show that they have been such dumbasses while I take the award for the coolest guy in the universe. Just a couple of pointers ladies, one-yes, I am supercool and stuff... and two-when you mail this post to your boyfriend, do remember to remove the blondie pic from the post.

About the confusion bit, I have always followed the 'Hardwire' rule which was discovered by Arshat Chaudhary in the lazy summer holidays of 2006.

Just to enlighten you mortals, the hardwire rules goes as follows:

There! Simplified funda of life. You are welcome.

But you should be in control enough not to gawk at a female in presence of another girl.

So I followed the hardwired rule. But the rules get damned sometimes, dont they? Sometimes, you the jump the Queue when you shouldnt... Sometimes you travel without a ticket, when you thought you never should.... Sometimes the self-imposed rules go for a walk. It might seem like we break those rules for no reason, but there's always a sub-conscious reason... Maybe you travelled ticketless coz you were late for a football match on a lovely rainy day and you didnt wanna waste 3 mins printing a ticket. Maybe you jumped the queue, coz you lost that match and wanted to divert your mind from the loss...

I am just saying, there's always a reason for the way we behave in. Sometimes you are just lucky to know what those reasons are. Some other times, you sit confused on a bench, in a foreign country, staring blankly at a humongous gate....

German Sir: I dont know the name of that metal... its called Wolfram in German...

Out of deep slumber woke our hero, our uber cool guy (UCG)...

UCG: Its Tungsten...

Sir: Tung.. what?

UCG: Tungsten...

Sir: How... what.. How do you know that? (true exclamation)

UCG: I dont know... I am just plain awesome...

So now that I have established my utter supremacy over you mere mortals, let me continue with all the mundane stuff...

So, Its pretty awesome here in Berlin... The city is super systematic... Its kinda cold here, I expected better weather this time of the year... Everything is mostly on time. Even the buses have a time table to follow.

There are no traffic jams here. And potholes on the road are a matter of National crisis for the Germans.

I like my classmates. They come from like 20 nationalities. Most of them are pretty curious about India. There is this one guy who sings sanskrit mantras and stuff... Freaks me out I tell you.. sometimes I feel he knows more about my country than I do...

Then there guys who come to me and ask...

Curious foreign guy: Hey Aaarrrshat, how do you say 'Fuck' in Indian...

Uber cool Indian guy (me) : There is no language called - Indian...

The nice guy that I am, I almost always enlighten them... its fun I tell ya..

The best part is our calculation abilities... We solve calculations before you can say - Ich liebe Berlin...

There was this question, very simple question, and the professor was like, Have you brought your calculators, and I solved it in like 3 seconds... Between surprised chuckles and awe and respect, yours truly was surrounded...

Okay, now that I have made myself sound good (which is the whole point of this post and in greater sense, this blog) let me talk some (more) meaningful talks..

Germany and cool and everything, but the thought of staying here somehow doesnt come into my mind. Sometimes I dream about India, mostly about Mumbai, the warm humid weather, my friends and family, sometimes even Gurgaon and the college. I feel like I have left some part of me behind. Somehow, 100% Arshat isnt here.

They say - Home is where the Heart is...

They god damn right...

I wanna stay in Mumbai for most of my life... I have decided that... Cant stay anywhere but there. There is something bout the city I will never understand. You see it in the movies, you read about it, but you dont really know what is about that place that doesnt let you leave ever.

Or maybe everyone feels like that about their homeland. Maybe all of them leave behind a certain part of themselves which is so important that you always wanna come back to it... Ich liebe Berlin... But home is where the heart is...

Chalo, bahut senti maar liya... happens when you miss home...

Miss all you people back home (you know who you are)...

Will come back soon.. Till then..

Auf Weidersehen...

It was difficult to answer her. How was it coming along?

It all started with an ad which I saw when I was in the 7th standard.

The difference is- German Engineering. Opel.

Opel didnt work. But the ad did. That line somewhere stayed in my mind. The respect for Germany grew as I came to know more about them. The Engineering dream realised and I set my heart on doing my masters in Mechanical Engineering in Germany.

I got disillusioned during my engineering. 4 hours of travelling, overload of assignments, stupidity all over didnt help my case. The German dream died and I set my eyes on an MBA. In between happened Siemens, the respect for Germany increased and the dream was reborn.

I left Siemens, prepared for CAT to get into MDI's International Management course. One leg of the course was to be completed in ESCP, Berlin. The German dream kept coming back to me. It was destined or something.

This monday, I landed in Germany. It was not easy. Not at all. First the German Embassy acted like they didnt want us to come here. Then Deutsche Bank did their best to keep us out. German efficiency was thrown out of the window for inefficiency and stupidity. It was our luck that we finally got our Visas one day before leaving.

What followed next was a journey of a life time. I took the Air India flight from Mumbai to Frankfurt in the night at 2. I was so damn tired with all the running around, meeting friends and stuff. The flight was overbooked and I probably got the worst seats. Couldnt sleep a wink on the flight. I had an Air Berlin flight from Frankfurt to Berlin in the evening. That gave me around 12 hours to go around Frankfurt.

I landed at Fraport, was overwhelmed by the size of the airport. It was freaking cold outside. If Delhi cold was a bitch, Frankfurt cold was son of a bitch (does that make it worse or not?). Fraport is lovely, though I still feel mumbai airport is not too behind when it comes to management. (You can take me out of Mumbai, but u cant take Mumbai outta me.)

I had like 4 bags, one out of which was cabin baggage. I wanted to go around Frankfurt, so I deposited the bags at the Air Berlin counter for my flight in the evening. I had more baggage than the alloted 20 kgs. The girl at the counter (who I thought was spanish) however turned in 4 kgs more than alloted, which I thought was kinda sweet. I thanked her profusely, to which she said - You are Indian, I am Indian...

I felt so damn proud. No one every did anything special for me just coz I was Indian.

I went around the city. German Engineering everywhere. Footpaths which sloped at the edges so that you might not have a problem to get down and cross the road. Zebra crossings everywhere. Cars stopping for you even if there was no red signal. Grey skies. Biting cold. Costly food. But that didnt stop me from going on a 50 min cruise on the river Main.

In the evening I returned back to the airport or Fraport as they call it. I waited for the evening flight. After running around the Airport, I realised that the flight had been delayed. I waited. The flight was cancelled. I was stranded on the Airport. I contacted Air Berlin. German rules suggest that you stand in the line and wait for your turn, which incidentally took me around 1 hour. It was 9 in the night local time (1.30 night India) It was 40 hours since I had slept. Standing in line sucked.

"We will arrange your stay in a hotel and also arrange for pick up and drop" said the lady at the task.

They arranged for the hotel, but forgot the pick-up. Good for me though, I got to take a taxi (which means my dream of travelling my a Merc was fulfilled.) I was amazed to see my Hotel room (an Executive room at The Kongress Sheraton). One word - Awesome! I slept for 5 hours. The next flight was in the morning.

At the airport, I confirmed if my baggage was on the flight (since the last flight was cancelled.)

On reaching the Berlin airport after a rough flight which was more like a roller coaster than anything else, I found that one of my bags was missing. In spite of my confirming at Fraport that they were loaded on the very same flight that I was travelling by... How do you misplace baggage ON the Way? All my clothes were in that bag, and I was already late for the first class. Which meant I was gonna skip class. Not much of a problem that. With the jet lag, I might have slept in the class anyway.

It was damn difficult to find the place where the hostel was. It was 4 degrees outside, and if you know me, I hate cold. I come from a land of Warm sunny beaches, anything colder than 16 degrees is clearly unacceptable. This is one of the reasons Delhi is no longer a contender for me working there.

I reached the hostel with great difficulty and finally dropped dead on the bed. I dreamt.

I had a dream, the German dream... It took long to realize it. It was difficult. What a journey! I didnt wanna meet the President of the US or stuff like SRK wanted in "My name is Khan", but this journey was pretty difficult too.

For the record: My name is Chaudhary...