Koyla - The Hyderabad House

Of the many restaurants my Niveau 1 students have cited as an answer to the question “Vous aimez quel restaurant?” (Which restaurant do you like?), Koyla has been a name I’ve heard several times. I have to say, my attitude towards the restaurant had always been diffident.

To start with, we landed there only as a last resort since restaurants were already full at 8h30 (if you please!). Not exactly a family that believes in queuing up for our food, we thought we’d give this place a chance. Secondly, I’m not the greatest fan of Mughlai cuisine – in this case, Hyderabadi cuisine – since it generally tends to be rather heavy and spicy, not exactly catering to my tastes. I am Indian, but that doesn’t mean I like to swallow every morsel of food with a gulp of water, sniff constantly throughout the meal and leave the table with a terrible burning sensation on my tongue chased all the way down to the stomach! Spicy food does not translate into good food. Not in my dictionary. For me, to come away appreciative of a restaurant that offers that genre of cuisine, means that the food is truly par excellence. Nothing but the most perfectly spiced (read subtly spiced, not over-spiced), succulent food offered in the subtle, comfortable and classy environment by efficient staff can please me. Take the not so distant experience at Bombay Brasserie for example. I was disgusted. Completely.

I wouldn’t say that my reaction to Koyla is very different. The hesitation towards the cuisine was coupled with doubt about the ambience, having been completely put-off by its very entrance, a very heavy, over-ornate door with a garish canopy and very uncalled for dim lighting that makes you stumble on the way in….it goes without saying that the interiors were a continuation of the entrance. I have never found any restaurant as distasteful as this one – the “designer” obviously thought that covering every inch of wall space with gaudy, tacky faux objects reminiscent of Hyderabad’s rich Nizami history would charm and awe the restaurants clientele. Quite the contrary. I felt “quichéd” to use a French idiom. Cramped, dingy, garish are the three adjectives that come to the mind when I think of Koyla.

The experience continued with the appalling service….which reminds me, pray enlighten me someone, why do restaurateurs put things in the menu which are never available? I’m fed-up of being told that they do not serve Khubani ka meetha and that the Gulab Jamun is worth trying! If you don’t serve it, what the hell is it doing in the menu? And no, I don’t want to have Gulab Jamun; I can have that at home any time thank you! Digressions apart, so the personnel was most unhelpful and aloof vis-à-vis recommendations, not to mention ignorant. The food, when it did arrive, was unsatisfactory for all the noise made about the quality of food at this restaurant – as expected it was spicy, despite reassurances that we’d ordered “a non-spicy dish.” I think I should redefine non-spicy as something that makes my nose run and ensures I drink my 1l quota of water per day during one meal itself! To top it all, the second round of rotis ordered when the food was first served to us showed up (after 3 reminders) after we’d spooned the last of the “eye-watering” food. When we refused to accept the rotis, they simply took it away without a hint of any apology….and none came forth even as we settled the account and left the restaurant.

A completely abominable experience. The bloody place needs to be boycotted and forced into losses…and the next student that claims its his/her favourite restaurant is going to fall rapidly in my eyes!

PS On the same note of disappointing gastronomic experiences, I must say Garden court was also rather dismal. Terrible service and unexciting food killed the pleasure of eating out in the open with the city of Pune spread out in front of my eyes.

PPS Before you attack me Extempore, yes, I know that Mughlai cuisine and Hyderabadi cuisine is different – I was just trying to broadly categorise all that has anything to do with kebabs, biryani, murg, gosht et al! Peace! ;-)

L'Auberge Espagnole

A Cédric Klapisch film, starring Romain Duris in the leading role of Xavier and Audrey Tuatou (of Le Fabuleux Destin Amélie Poulain) as his girlfriend, Martine, L’Auberge Espagnole is an absolutely fabulous film!.

The friend takes off with the departure of Xavier for Barcelona where he studies economy for a year as a student of the ERASMUS exchange programme. He initially shacks up with a young French couple he meets on his arrival at Barcelona, till he finds the ideal arrangement, an apartment that he shares with six other ERASMUS students. Over the course of one year, Xavier stumbles over various problems and confronts the typical confusions of any young student in his situation. He parties and has the time of his life with his friends, even as he learns and grows with each new experience that they all share together. Everything takes off from the central point of the l’aubgerge espagnole, the Spanish apartment. At the end of the film, many experiences riches, Xavier finally begins to truly understand himself and his true calling…

The film concentrates on the question of identity (personal/national/European) that dogs all young people across the world. It highlights with effective ease and style the life of young students living abroad, presenting the humorous as well as the stressful moments of that life.

A film with crazy situations that make you scream with laughter, there isn’t a single moment where you would reach for the fast-forward button on that remote control. Excellent acting (particularly by Kevin Bishop who plays the obnoxious William), great music, this is a film for all those who are young at heart, who understand what a pain it is to be twenty-something and completely screwed up in the head and for those who are tuned into the current situation in Europe where national identities are becoming increasingly fuzzy with the creation of the EU.

After having watched the film four times, I can confidently recommend the film – I showed it to two sets of students this week and they can vouch for it as well! Go rent the DVD for the nearest DVD parlour and watch it this weekend! :-)

Read the corresponding review in French here

Is it Time?

Is it time yet to give up? I think not, and thus I continue to wage the war despite the dying strength and will power. But I am tired now, really tired. Have given up all attempts (read pretense) at being strong, at having faced the rude loss of my father and coped with it excellently. I miss him with every second that passes by and I refuse to pretend otherwise anymore, irrespective of how uncomfortable it makes people around me. Perhaps I'm being selfish and unreasonable about it. I don't care anymore. I think I've endured enough to be allowed this luxury - yes it is indeed a luxury to let your true feelings show, to wallow in the misery that has been a part of your life for over a year, a misery that has just increased several times over with the unchanging status of my missing bag. Yes, I know I sound insane but losing that bag is like losing Papa all over again...and I don't think I'll ever recover from this loss...

Am hoping and praying with all my heart that this festive season doesn't have any dark clouds overshadowing it and does indeed bring along with it reasons to rejoice...*crossing my fingers tight*

...meanwhile the struggle to knock sense into stubborn students insisting on repeating level 1 mistakes one-third of their way into level 2, commuting to-n-fro twice a day in the abominable Pune public transport (I refuse to even consider investing in my own mode of transport) and dealing with inefficient staff at the administrative level keeps me on my toes, occupied and exhausted...yes, the life is quite "happening" indeed.

Confused

Somewhere, along the way to reaching where I stand today, something went wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like this...

Another Year Down...

Another year down...a year older, perhaps wiser, smarter, more mature and richer in experiences, but also more cynical without those rose-tinted glasses I wore till last year. I didn't want to do anything today - didn't even want to talk to my closest friends. If not for Ma and some of my friends, I'd have probably spent the entire day curled up in bed, reading. It started off yesterday with a friend dropping in for the quickest visit ever, just to give me pre-birthday wishes and the biggest bouquet I've ever received. That gesture alone warmed the heart that had been lying bruised and battered all week...another friend refused to back down despite cold emails asking not to be bothered. She called on Ma's cellphone when she couldn't get through mine, scolded me, made me switch on mine and reminded me that I am made of stronger stuff and can't give up so soon, so easily. The last one week has been of much musing, pensive, punishing walks back home, battling the tears and the negative thoughts and I had come so close to giving up, but for the few people whose refusal to give up on me and their insistence on pushing me back...many revelations, many personal decisions taken this week. I hope I'm strong enought to stick to them all! Amen!

It was a very quiet birthday this year. I spent the day largely in the company of Ma - and the only thing that could have topped that would be having Papa there. Unrealistic, so I can't say I have any real complaints with the day...have been pampered with a surprise shopping excursion. Ironically I ended up buying more for the others than for myself, which made the family decide a second excursion was in order and in a short span of 15 minutes I walked out of FabIndia with three new things to add to my wardrobe. Well I did tell friends that they shouldn't gift me books this year since I was a rather clothes/jewellery deprived individual and in desperate need for clothes! Dinner with the family at Sigree, was a very satisfying affair. Excellent service, great food coupled with a perfect ambience...yes it was a quiet birthday spent with those who matter the most and I wouldn't have had it any other way!

Euro-Rail V

Even though not enamoured by the city of the famed la Cathédrale de Notre Dame, la Tour Eiffel, l’Arc de Triomphe et l’Arche de la Défénse, l’Obélisque/ Place de la Concorde, le musée du Louvre, la Sacré Coeur (my most favoured monument parisien), the city of the high fashion, the city of the metro, I always wanted to visit it and to feel that rush from atop the Eiffel with the French capital lying below me. My first trip to Paris (December 2003) was as perfect as it could be – a low-budget trip made in the company of my friend from Bordeaux, P, it was ideally planned and I covered more in those three short days in Paris than most people cover in a week. Sure I didn’t enter a single museum, in a city famed for its museums, I didn’t visit Le Moulin Rouge or Lido, I didn’t shop at Champs Élysées, but in those 72 hours I discovered Paris through the eyes of someone who knew the city, who admired it with a certain level of objectivity and the same sense of aesthetics and cultural interest as me.

(At the Temple de Madeleine - taken, obviously by K)

I wanted to go back, not so much so cover what I missed last time, but to go back to the streets and places that most charmed me on my first visit and spend time there and most importantly to spend time with Kitana. I didn’t achieve most of what I wanted to do, for various reasons, my missing bag being the biggest of them all, marking it as an incomplete sojourn in many ways, but I did discover a different Paris this time…

Paris, of the famed Catacombs, which despite all the warnings of being spooky and not for those with a frail heart, weren’t the least bit frightening. Interesting, but after a point a little too boney, if you get my point ;-)
Paris, of Paris Plage, a crazy idea, that only a French-man could come up with, of dumping tons of sand by the banks of the Seine to convert it into a beach every summer, so that Parisiens who couldn’t head to the beach for summer are not deprived!
Paris, home to Shakespeare and Co, paradise on earth for book-lovers and amateur writers. It applied the must needed balm to my bruised spirit at the right time. I would have broken down completely, if not for that visit to this amazing bookstore opposite Notre Dame (needless to say, even Shakespeare and Co would have been helpless if not for Kitana)

Biggest Regrets: Not being able to spend that completely mad, crazy moment with Kitana, or catch up peacefully with A (who had traveled all the way from Magdeburg to spend time with me), friends I cherish and don’t get to spend enough time with because of the miles separating us…and most of all, letting the dark cloud of worry consuming me, cast its shadow on K, Kitana and A’s break.

...and with this, I finally complete my Euro-Rail series! :-)

Surreal Reality...

Euro-Rail IV

Germany seemed so familiar even though this was completely new territory, a region that I hadn’t trespassed before. Yet it felt so right to be standing at Köln Hauptbahnhof; even the language barrier didn’t upset me much this time! I do, however, think it’s high time I got around to realizing that dream of learning German – at least the basics.

Our host’s house charmed me completely, at least the ground floor did, for I never saw the first floor which housed his “private quarters” – the entry is through a building which opens into a semi-private courtyard (reminiscent of the “traboules” of Lyon) covered with creepers and weeds, beyond which lay his cottage. Utterly delightful and bewitching!

Köln itself was not quite what I expected – much more depressing than I’d projected it to be and far too grey and wet for my idea of a German summer….we couldn’t do much because of the weather and because of lack of guidance forthcoming from the host, who seemed to be extremely reticent about telling us what can be seen and done in and around his city thus making Köln seem rather dull and dreary which it really isn’t... (But then our host could take up an entire post by himself, so let's not even tread in that direction!)

Yet I don’t really regret making the trip for it gave me an opportunity to spend time with A – she hasn’t changed a bit; she’s still the same mad, adorable, warm and stubborn A I knew back in Magdeburg 2003. I take time to befriend someone, but I generally choose my friends well. ;-) So we basically saw the Cathedral which is almost synonymous with Köln and walked around the shopping district till our bodies bruised and battered by the grey, wet and windy day screamed for rest and alcohol and we found ourselves at a local brewery. That was a delightful, since it was this warm, noisy place where everyone seemed to arrive with the sole purpose of drinking beer and having a good time, which we did! Spent a long time at the Ludwig modern art museum, which was quite satisfying, but I wonder whether I traveled all the way to Köln to spend a day inside a museum. I did, however buy a wonderful print of Andrew Warhol's "La Nana Noire" for bhaiyya's office and am extremely pleased with that purchase! Walked by the river and around the old city till we found the Rathaus (town hall) which despite our best efforts we simply couldn’t appreciate with the rain coming down on our heads and our shoes and jeans getting rapidly wet…

Now on my way back to Paris to spend the last few whirlwind days there – ironically I not very excited about Paris per se, since my thoughts are totally and completely centered on my bag now – it has ceased to be a parallel stream of thought running along side the stream that pushed me to explore Barcelona, relax in Bordeaux or chill out in Köln. I really hope the bag has reached Paris and that I get it when I reach there – I’m so tired of wearing recycled undergarments and borrowed clothes…am also looking forward to getting back home since I’m quite homesick by now, with all that I’ve faced – oh how I miss Papa…

Euro-Rail III

Barcelona – a city that emanates creativity, evident in the facades of its buildings. Synonymous with Antonio Gaudi, the architect behind the Park Guell, Casa Batllo, La Pedrera and of course his most famous project, the colossal La Sagrada Familia. I wasn’t sure what to expect, and frankly by the time I got there I didn’t care much about what I’d see…but I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t enthralled by the colourful facades that curved and twisted and dipped and rose, abundant with creative craftsmanship, screaming out loud the madness behind the genius that designed them. The fairy-tale appearance of Park Guell with its lizards and its brilliant mosaics, the intense detailing of La Sagrada Familia, a work in progress that sent chills racing down my spine, the vibrancy of the streets winding down the older quarters of the city, the warmth of my hostess (someone who I’d known for barely a fortnight, who not only welcomed me into her home making me as comfortable as possible but has been helping me ever since – the next time someone tells me that it’s impossible to find warmth in foreigners and make true friends abroad, remind me to sock them in their nose!) and her friends with whom we shared some delightful Spanish meals and many a light moment…all of it made the trip worthwhile! We walked endlessly through-out the day and were ready to collapse by evening, yet summoned the energy to step out for dinner and mingle with our newly-made friends even when our legs were protesting and threatening to fold under us!

The highlight of course was that last evening, sitting around a table on a roof-top terrace trying our best to overcome language barriers and understand each others’ countries, cultures and languages ;-) drinking wine from a kettle-like carafe with a spout, laughing, enjoying….I want to go back someday, spend more time seeing and knowing the city…and most importantly spend time with B, O and co.

Bordeaux, in stark contrast was all about relaxing, about stretching out lazily on a Sunday afternoon in a park, watching the ducks and swans swim past, idly talking about literature and politics, about art and economics, about culture and technologies, about life…I wish I hadn’t had to cut short that trip, I wish I’d had the foresight to re-organise the rest of the trip so I could have spent more time with P and B, I wish I’d had more spirit to show K around. I’m glad we didn’t end up fighting that first afternoon when my nerves were stretched taut as a wire (and I’m reasonably certain, so were his…) and I’m glad I could take him to the Quinconces where we got to spend a quiet moment together.

I really hope I get a chance to go back soon. While my first trip to Bordeaux was all about discovery, this one was about re-acquaintance. I was utterly charmed last time; this time I know that if I ever go back to France to study/stay for short duration, it will be to Bordeaux , and not just because I have friends there, but because the city has made its place in my heart.

(This entry and the next two had to be edited quite a bit since they were scribbled rather hurriedly in moments stolen between absorbing as much as I could of the city I was visiting, catching up with friends and trying my best not to give up, curl up into a ball and wail in misery)

(Needless to say credit for pics goes to K since my bag is still, well, missing!)

Show me the world...

(Taken in Eze, by K)

Dear visitors,

Please excuse the long absence and the sudden interruption in the Euro-rail series. I've been busy running around, settling into my new work routine and getting the hang of teaching level A2 (yes I've been promoted on that front - now teaching the intermediary level, not just debutants!)..and licking my wounds in solitude!

The series shall be taken up once-again and completed in the next ten days - cross my heart and all that :-)

Your beloved Plain Jane

The Sordid Saga of my Suitcase

After having spent two great days at Lyon, K and I left for the airport with an excited anticipation running through our veins, for Barcelona was to be the high-point of our trip, especially for K. We reached the airport, checked-in and took off with a slight delay, nevertheless looking forward to Spain with enthusiasm…half an hour into the flight (and just another 40 minutes short of arriving at Barcelona), we were informed that we’d have to return to Lyon because of technical problems…so about-turn and we reached Lyon at our scheduled arrival time for Barcelona! A little re-thinking will have to be done for today’s itinerary because of this slight delay, we said to ourselves. After waiting over two hours Air France finally informed us that the next flight to Barcelona is full, so we would have to go there via Madrid - and would reach there at 19:30 instead of the initially planned 10:30! Considering that we didn’t have much of a choice, we accepted, extending (?) our stay in Barcelona by one day and thus changing our tickets to Bordeaux, and shortening our stay there!

We reached Madrid, ensured that Air France and the next airlines Span Air (an airline company at the same level as our good old Air Deccan - worse in my opinion!) would see to it that our bags were transferred and boarded the flight, which was over an hour late - once aboard we were once again informed that there are technical problems and so there would be some more delays! Amazing isn’t it? But the story doesn’t end there…so we tell ourselves that nothing could possible go wrong after this and reach Barcelona at 21:10…after much confusion about where we could collect our bags, we started looking for our bags…which don’t seem to have arrived! It was like a nightmare coming true!

After registering a complaint for the loss of bags, during which my heart kept sinking further and further seeing the number of bags lying in enormous piles all over the bloody airport, we finally exited the airport around 22:20, having lost an entire day! K’s bag reached the next day, but mine didn’t reach till the day we were due to leave and neither company was willing to take responsibility - so I left Barcelona with 3 pairs of clothing which I proceeded to wash, re-wash and wear for the rest of the trip…

My bag reached Barcelona, the evening I left (4th August) and with much relief, I asked my friend to have it forwarded to Paris, hoping it would be there by the time I got back from Cologne. After having waited 10 days for my bag, I finally went to the airport on the 11th, hoping to return triumphantly with my bag in tow…little did I know that Lady Luck wasn’t feeling particularly happy with me…

Kitana and I reached there around 11:00 and spent the whole of the day at Charles de Gaulle, going from terminal 3 to terminal 1 to terminal 2 to terminal 1 to terminal 3 to terminal 1 to terminal 3. It took us over two hours and inquiring at innumerable counters and asking innumerable people to find out that my bag has reached Paris! Triumph, short-lived happiness… because we were then informed that I would still not be able to lay hands on my eagerly awaited Delsey because of some ridiculous bureaucratic procedures…it seems Lufthansa brought the bag to Paris and Swissport is the agency that contacts and delivers the bag to the passenger…now Lufthansa is at terminal 1 and Swissport at terminal 3 (which incidentally are next to each other) but yet another company is responsible for taking the bag from terminal 1 to terminal 3 and apparently that is at terminal 2…let’s complicate things further shall we? So it appears that thousands of bags are lost everyday, despite all that elaborate checking-in procedure and all those labels and it takes them a minimum of a week to process all the bags received at CdG Paris, make an inventory and then forward them to Swissport…as a result Swissport on the 11th of August had received bags that had reached Paris on the 2nd of August! Unbelievable isn’t it? I offered to hunt through the thousands of bags myself, but they couldn’t authorize me to do so - after all I could be a terrorist couldn’t I? In the end I left the airport, defeated, frustrated, angry, and completely exhausted wondering what I’d done to deserve this turn of events that turned my dream vacation into a nightmarish bag-hunt and that had its toll even on K’s vacation and his very first trip to Europe.

Everyone told me to look at it like an adventure and we did initially, but the adventure died somewhere between Barcelona and Paris…they kept telling me that it was just a bag with some clothes, that my family wouldn’t be upset if I returned without gifts for I’d already bought most of them, that they were merely material possessions! How can I possibly not worry about my things? How do I explain to them the value of those possessions - not just monetarily (it would be a huge blow if they were truly lost) but also emotionally? How will I ever be able to replace that gorgeous top Papa brought back from Budapest? Or the manicure set he brought back from Italy? Or the Swarowski earrings that he brought for Ma on his first few trips and which she gifted to me some years back? How will I ever replace those things that he gave me, things I will never ever give away or throw away? How will I possibly replace the bag itself, which was Papa’s and represented to me my father’s trips to Europe, a legacy that I want to carry forward? How could I possibly continue to enjoy myself, and spend money without thinking more than twice each time I reached for my wallet? And how could I not feel bad about having to ask friends to run around and endure the endless bureaucratic procedures so that I receive my bag?

I have returned to Pune without my bag, entrusting Kitana with the honoured task of ensuring my bag is forwarded to Bombay, praying it reaches there safe and sound within the next few days - it’s been over a fortnight since I’ve returned (and exactly a month since my bag was first lost) and there is still no news of my bag…and that is the wonderfully sordid saga of my suitcase!

I knew that I’d experience and learn a lot during this trip, but that I’d experience this much, I had no idea! I’m not sure I wanted to experience all of this and am not sure when I’ll be able to look back at it as an enriching experience or laugh it off…as of now, my only desire is to hear that my bag has safely reached Bombay and to see it in my house, open it and reassure myself that everything that I put inside is still there! Even though the sight of my mother at the Bombay airport provided the much-needed solace and comfort I was aching ever since I realized my bag hasn’t reached Barcelona and even though being back home has taken the edge of the constantly nagging thought that ran parallel to everything else I thought about during my trip, I am still not entirely at peace…waiting to hear from Kitana that my bag is on its way home. Hope it’s soon! *Crossing my fingers*

Euro-Rail II

Lyon – the second commercial capital of France, the center of the ancient French silk industry, the capital of French gastronomy and the city of the famed frescoes that have earned themselves a place in the list of UNESCO world heritage sites. There seemed to be enough reasons to visit Lyon, yet people’s eyebrows went up when I cited the city in my list of destinations. To my relief, Lyon, with its eerily quiet and deserted streets after the peopled streets of Montpellier and Nice, did not disappoint. In fact it was quite a relief to the senses to wander in the quiet streets of Vieux Lyon, or the Colline de Fourvière or Croix Rousse, specially since it was amazingly pleasant (almost cool) after the heat and humidity of the previous two cities!

The high-points of our stay in Lyon:

Hôtel du Tourisme, where we stayed, a tiny but cozy place on the banks of Saône, a 15minute walk from the old city – affordable, clean and quite perfect! Our room overlooked their terrace which though a tiny, poky place at the back of the hotel had been transformed into a lovely, charming terrace providing the perfect ambiance to jot down the day’s notes with a cup of coffee…

The splendid view of the entire city from the Cathedrale de Notre Dame at the Colline de Fourvière which made worthwhile walking up 250m above sea-level instead of taking the cable-car, which any normal tourist would have done!

The satisfying meal we had at a restaurant in Vieux Lyon – I decided to throw caution to the winds and went ahead and ordered Rossbeef, served with potatoes stewed in the juice of the beef and green salad, while K had fish served with vegetable and saffron rice. It’s true that Lyon is the capital of French gastronomy – never have I enjoyed beef as I did that day and never has the meal in France been so completely satisfying…the dessert was the icing on the cake…

Walking around the corner to look up to one of Lyon’s acclaimed frescoes – even though I’d read much about them and seen a show on Travel and Living that focused on the frescoes of Lyon, nothing prepared me for the sight. An entire building painted to resemble a bookshop, a postman in the act of collecting letters from a postbox (which was real, not painted), citations from the French classics all over the building, a pigeon caught in the act of taking off, it’s shadow remarkably captured on the building’s façade. Despite the fact that the second fresco we saw was far more interesting, it’s the image of the former that has been burnt into my mind.

Failure to understand:

The charm behind the traboules – courtyards between buildings that apparently serve like secret passages from one street into the next, which we spent hours hunting, going up and down streets in the vain attempt to unearth them – only to finally find one traboule which was simply a dingy, stinky passage between buildings and not the least bit enigmatic or charming. Perhaps the charm lies in stumbling upon them and perhaps they were really useful during the war, we regretted having spent much time and energy looking for them!

The fuss about Croix Rousse, which at one time was the quartier of the canuts (silk-weavers) but today houses apartment complexes and offices and is just another neighbourhood – the cafés and restaurants didn’t bear a patch on those in Vieux Lyon and walking up this 250m seemed to have served only one purpose – that of leaving us dog-tired!

Unfulfilled Desire:

Attend a silk-weaving and painting workshop (lack of time) and buy a hand-woven and hand-painted silk scarf (was way beyond my reach) this time…next time!

Euro-Rail I

It's bloody strange, but I wasn't very impressed with Nice, apart from the pure azure of the sea...the Promenade des Anglais was not the least bit impressive, being just that - a promenade - and not really this strip that attracts the most elegant and chic of them all! As for the hotels down that strip, I'm afraid the less said about their facades, the better! It wasn't all bad though - I'm just exercising my spirit of criticism...the view from Colline du Chateau stole my breath and the Côte D'Azur is gorgeous and merits every compliment it has ever received! Breathtakingly beautiful - the view of the Baie des Anges from the Colline (that I posted earlier) or the Cascades from where you get the view...

Interestingly the apparently chic restaurant close to the Marché des Fleurs was quite a disappointment (mainly due to the snobbery of the waiter) but a simple, very basic restaurant close to our hostel was an absolute delight. At Restaurant du Soleil, run by an old couple I found a warmth that stole into my heart along with the soul-warming food! The monsieur running the place totally made me evening when he complimented my French : "Vous parlez bien en français, mademoiselle...continuez le bon travail!" Goes without saying that I skipped all the way back to the room ;-)

While Nice failed to inspire awe, Eze, a quaint (albeit too postcard-touristy) medieval village a few kilometres from Nice, charmed me completely with its colourful boutiques, narrow winding lanes and steps leading up to the church and the garden with a splendid view of Nice and the Côte d'Azur stretching up to Corsica...it was there that I truly felt I was at the famed French Riviera watching the crème de la crème of automobiles roll smoothly into restaurants way beyond my reach, all driven by chauffeurs that were polished to a shine, just like the cars! ;-) I'm not sure what I liked best about Eze - the drive to and from the village (uphill by bus and downhill in a Merc-cab!) or the breath-taking view from Jardin des Plantes Exotiques, 249 m above sea-level.

Now as I head to Lyon, I'm glad I did visit Nice and the French Riviera...as I leave behind the coast with its pebbly beaches and calcareous, rocky mountains, into a region marked with verdant hills and vineyards on both sides of the tracks I hope Lyon doesn't disappoint me...

(This and the series of posts that shall follow were scribbled hastily, untidily while travelling aboard the various trains that I took to reach my destinations...

The photographs are courtesy K, since I shall only develop mine when I get my bag and thus the many rolls of film inside! )

I'm Back!!!

Des ki mitti aur uski sugandh - nauseatingly cheesy or not, I sure as hell took one deep breath and felt absolutely rejuvenated when I stepped off the Boeing 777 that brought me from Paris to Bombay!

Out of the airport, I drove straight back to Pune coz I was just so tired... the last few days were rather exhausting what with dealing with various people's tantrums (learnt my lesson - never travel in a big group - people have silly issues!), dealing with French bureaucracy and trying not to let my fucked up mood have an effect on K's first visit to Paris...couldn't show him half the things I wanted to, since I was busy getting intimately acquainted with Charles de Gaulle - the airport, not the man (he's been dead quite some time and I'm really not into that kind of stuff!) Spent an entire day there going from one terminal to the other and then back to the first, then the second, then first, then third...all in the vain attempt of procuring my suitcase which had arrived in Paris but which I still don't have because of bloody bureaucratic procedures! I was in a frustrated mess of anger and tears by the end of the day, but pulled myself back in shape and tried to make the best of my last day in Paris - walked down Paris Plage, visited the Catacombs(which were not the least bit creepy! Though quite well arranged and presented very "prettily" I was actually feeling quite bored with the bones by the end!), shared a bottle of wine with friends wondering where life shall take us, sitting on the banks of the Seine...

A grand adventure it was, my Europe trip - much has been learned, much has been experienced - though I wish certain things hadn't happened (no marks for guessing what!) I still had a whale of a time and am so glad I had my closest friend right by my side through out - wouldn't trade a single moment we spent together and will never forget this trip - it has given me, perhaps the most cherished moments of our friendship!

Am so bloody glad to be home...now that I'm back I've pushed the family into settling down into the new house ...enough procrastination has happened on that front! Back to work next week - am looking forward to some routine in life after the last few weeks! ;-)

Forthcoming posts: Euro-rail, Photos

Adventure in Europe...

A fortnight in Europe with my closest friend, K - it's been a grand adventure! From lazing by the Cote d'Azur to admiring one of the most panoramic views from atop a mountain in a very chic, very quaint medieval village near Nice...from climbing the Colline de Fourviere in Lyon to enjoying a gastronamic Lyonnais speciality in the old quartier and admiring the famous frescoes...from delayed and cancelled flights to lost bags (I still don't have my bag, a week after the incident and am wearing recycled and borrowed clothes in the cities I wanted to appear my most chic self!)...from spending time with a new friend in Barcelona, visiting Gaudi's Sagrada Familia and drinking wine a la Spanish country folk from a carafe with a spout, circulated around the table without once putting the carafe down till the wine was over....from a very French dinner and brunch in cafes in Bordeaux, to cozy dinners at another friend's home, discussing books and art and French politics and all that interests us, to taking K to the Quinconces and sitting at the steps of the Monument de Gironde (my favourite monument in Bordeaux) just chatting idly and walking down the quai of the Gironde that flows through Bordeaux...from reaching Paris stressed and on the verge of a breakdown to walking by the Seine, with a pita sandwich in my hand in the company of two of my closest friends, drinking beer sitting by the Seine not far from the Notre Dame and forgetting my worries, to travelling to Cologne to meet a friend from Magdeburg and another friend who I met only very recently and staying in his very cozy and charming house with a garden out of a fairytale, from standing in front of the Cathedrale in Cologne, a very impressive monument to drinking in a brewerie and being told by the waiter that I can't have a fourth glass because I drink too fast and too much...

We go to Paris together for the last few days of my whirlwind trip in Europe - it's going to be a circus with so many of us at Kitana's place and so much fun...crossing my fingers that nothing goes wrong and that evrything else falls into place as well! I can't say I haven't enjoyed each and every minute, but I do wish it could have been a little smoother...but then I wouldn't have learnt as much as I did and I sure do learn alot with each of my trips to Europe...

The best and most memorable moment of the trip...sharing some light moments with my closest friend with a magnificient waterfall behind us and one of the most beautiful views in front of us....I don't think I'll ever forget the beauty of those moments and I'm so glad I could share all this with him...

Postcards from Montpellier - 7

Oh it's been a tiring few days...I feel like I need to slow down and take a long deep breath and just relax!!! Let's see what can I say about the last few days? A turkish soirée, that I was too tired to appreciate fully, despite the fantastic live music belted out by my colleagues...finally managed to pick up gifts for my Bhabhi ( was getting worried coz I hadn't found anything till last week!)...an excursion to Agde-Beziers-Canal du Midi which included a boat ride and a visit to the Canal du Midi which is really impressive considering it was conceived in the 14th century and connects Bordeaux to the Mediterranean sea...

I visited the Musée Fabre in Montpellier on Saturday with a Sri Lankan colleague...and I will not be exagerating when I say that the afternoon had, for me, the best moments of my stay in Montpellier. It's a well known fact that I'm a big fan of Impressionsm, particularly Monet and when I found myself in front of Monet's "Japanese Bridge" and then the "Poppy Fields - Giverny" not only was I speechless (imagine that!) I actually had goosebumps all over due to sheer awe! I don't think even the sight of "Mona Lisa" will leave me as happy as I was on Saturday...so desperately wanted to call up Papa and share my joy with him; unfortunately heaven doesn't believe in telecommunication :-(

...and today I received the news that I've stood first in my DFA exams - since I was expecting around 75, to learn that I scored a neat 90 left me floored and thrilled as hell...yes yes I'm gloating and pretty much floating in 7th heaven right now ;-) Papa where are you? You should have been here to see my achieve all of this...

K arrives tomorrow...and the celebration starts to continue in Nice, Lyon, Barcelona, Bordeaux, Cologne and Paris!!!

Postcards from Montpellier - 6

Well the week gets more and more interesting...yesterday the day started off with a visit to the Jardin des Plantes in Montpellier, a garden maintained by the medical college of the city, which is the oldest existing college of medicine in the world and houses an incredible botanic treasure...the afternoon was a tad boring specially since I was very sleepy, but then in the evening we visited the zoo in Montpellier which is modelled on an Amazonian forest...super interesting even though there were too many reptiles for my liking (both animal and human variety!) Ended the day with a soirée at the the Parc du Peyrou where I learnt some of the traditional dances of the region...was looking quite good, even if I say so myself and managed to dance till my toes started protesting and I do beleive I'd mastered some of the dances by the end, but I guess thebest judges would be the poor men who had to dance with me and deal with my two left feet! Muhahah! After the soirée the cultural activities team invited us for a drink so we ended the evening at the Place de Jean Jaurès over café, vin et bière!

Have just returned from an extremely fascinating visit to an archaeolgical site that dates back to several centuries B.C...ah if the days continue to fly past with the same lightning speed, I won't even realise how time shall pass before K arrives!!! :-)

Postcards from Montpellier - 5

I wasn't feeling very motivated by my choice of modules this week, but then my choice of "Expression Orale" turned out to be a good one..and then on Tuesday in the module "Découverte du Languedoc-Roussillon" we visited the local market and had to question the vendors about their products etc...that turned out to be loads of fun and we even learnt some really interesting expressions that I'm dying to share with someone! Later we had a picnic in a park with wine, cheese and bread, organised by our prof...pretty cool eh?

...as if this wasn't enough, the excursion for the day was to Sommiers, where we visted the vineyards, the cave du vin and had a wine-tasting session! Excellent wine - I think I drank alot yesterday; my head was spinning by the time I got back to my room...goes without saying I crashed rather early! Hehehe!

Postcards from Montpellier - 4

A week that disappeared before I knew it - my mind is bursting with impressions of this last week! From the first signs of homesickness and insomniatic nights spent tossing in that ridiculously narrow bed, my ears tweaking at the slightest sound outside my dorm room...to visiting new places, exploring hitertho unvisited quartiers of Montpellier, evenings out with colleagues and shopping...I'm scared my budget for the month is going to be terribly strained with the shopping I've done this past week! Ah well, we only live once! ;-)

Visited Aigues-Mortes on Thgursday after class - yet another mediaval city, but not half as impressive as Carcassonne...what was impressive was spotting the pink flamingoes in the "aigues-mortes" (dead water...so called because of the high salt content in the water) and the beach that we visited later via the sand dunes shaded by pine trees...a pristine, gorgeous beach not far from the "naturalist" beach, and no before you ask I didn't go à la nature!

Bid adieu to my Spanish colleagues on Friday - dinner en ville, followed by a promenade en centre-ville browsing through books on sale (yes, at that time of the night since the Estivales de Montpellier is going on), listening to music and watching people tango...glad I met them and hope to stay in touch!

Saturday, 14 july, la fete nationale, I was at Avignon...and I fell in love! No, not with a français, with the city sillies! It's gorgeous..I'd go as far as saying the beauty of the city is sublime...the magnifique Palais des Papes, the humbling Cathedrale, the impressive Pont d'Avignon and the Rochers...yes you can see I was duly impressed! I wish I could have spent more time there, but well, there's always the next time! :-)

Later in the evening I was at Port Marianne to watch the fireworks organised for the national day - spectacular event, followed by drinks at Cubanito, a bar en ville with my colleagues! Returned late to crash in bed till late Sunday morning...spent the entire day at the beach (Palavas) and a café à la Saint Tropez...and I do believe I've tanned badly, but who's complaining? :-)

Was most amused at the sight of 40-50 year-ols sunbathing topless...20 year-olds I expected, but women of that age? Ahem...yes, I know it could be called cultural shock; it was nevertheless vastly amusing to see a swelte 50 something blond sunbathing topless next to a fat, out-of-shape, balding 60 something ;-)

A brand new week, with fewer people at the institute and vaguely interesting modules..I'm now counting-down to next Tuesday when K will join me...ah, for some real company!

Postcards from Montpellier - 3

A lazy Saturday spent in bed till I finally dragged myself out to hit the shops - it's summer sales and boy, is it tough to resist shopping till I'm broke! But I have a travelling extravaganza coming up and must be sensible..or so I tell myself ;-)

Am enjoying my solitude, much to my surprise and am very content with myself and my thoughts. Amen!

Sunday at Carcassonne, a delightful medieval city complete with ramparts, forts, castle and cathedrale. Gorged on Cassoulet, a stew made of meat, pork and beans; had loads of icecream, drank lots of wine and chatted with the other stagier(e)s..and yes explored the city throughly...returned to the Cité Universitaire to a light meal of fruits and juice (is it any surprise after that heavy lunch?), updated my journal and organised myself for the upcoming week...

....the perfect weekend, I'd say!

Postcards from Montpellier - 2

A gorgeous Mediterranean city with the perfect weather - a highly irritating Indian colleague with a tendancy to pick up pregnancy tests instead of toothpastes and writing love letters instead of complaints has been shaken off, so I can meander at peace in the delightful avenues and narrow streets of the city and stroll through the centre commercial, while munching on a croissant or pain au chocolat or pain aux raisins...

I've been out in the centre-ville daily, either strolling in the streets and getting lost, or sitting at a café sipping coffee and soaking in the sun or having crepes with my colleagues. Spent a lazy afternoon at the beach soaking in the sun, sea and sand...and another evening at a concert of Occitanie music.

Yes, the life is good!

Postcards From Montpellier - 1

A long flight later I landed in the magical city of Paris and though I didn't pay much attention to it; being with one of my closest buddies after a year, it was magnifique!! The train journey to Montpellier, though tiring, was inoubliable with the idyllic countryside, rolling green hills, vallyes dotted with sunflower fields and cows grazing on the slopes...as for the city of Montpellier, it is drenched in European culture and makes me pat my back for having chosen this center for my stage d'été :-)

It's just been two days and I've already logged in so many things that I can't wait to share, but it will have to wait till I get more tranquil access to a computer...

Until the second postcard, écrivez-moi!!

Cest La Pluie

The rains truly arrived yesterday - finally - with much aplomb! There was much noise as clouds crashed against each other in a fierce battle to see which would burst first; flashes of lightning illuminated the hills beyond my new home eeerily, crazily, every few minutes...and the wind! It uprooted everything that obstructed its wild race down the countryside, leaving in its wake much mess and a decent amount of destruction, one of them being damaged electricity poles which meant that we had no electricity from 20:30 till 09:30 this morning! This afternoon was a dull, grey, wet which I spent waltzing down F.C road, straining against the force of the wind, pulling my salwar up so it wouldn't get completely ruined by the river making it's way down the road and I returned home tired, looking quite the mouse dragged in by the cat...yet strangely, not only am I impressed, but I'm very happy!

...and I thought I didn't love the rains!

Patience Bears Sweet Fruits...

Oft do I repeat this citation to others, as to myself…and boy, when the tree of patience decided to finally bear fruit, such a sweet, succulent fruit it bore!

Winter 2003, I was in Germany as an exchange student and I promised myself that I would return to Europe and travel at free will. It’s taken me three years and much patience and forbearance to fulfill that dream, but finally it’s come true.

It’s still sinking in, but ten days later I am going to be on my way to France for a summer training programme, in a gorgeous Mediterranean city close to the Spanish border. Montpellier beckons with open arms and the French Embassy sponsors generously – all I have to do is pack my bags, collect those dreams and take that flight! It’s going to be a glorious month and a half in France – I’m finally visiting the cities I’ve yearned to see for the past three years and that too with my dearest friend.

Yes, patience, does indeed, bear sweet fruits.

Not Giving Up...Not Yet

This really charming scholar from Cambridge suggested I re-evaluate my stance on abandoning my pet project, GeeBaby. Since charming scholars from Cambridge are rarely wrong, I stepped back and thought of what I had to lose by bidding adieu to Geebaby, and what I had to gain by hanging onto her and continuing to nurture her (yes, ofcourse my Blog has a Gender and it is but obviously Feminine)...as you can see, here I am with a brand new avataar, all spruced up and ready to bore my readers some more!:-)

Watch this space people, for Plain Jane has a lot of plans for Geebaby!

Phoenix Mecano India

Phoenix Mecano India, as it stands today, the living legacy left behind by my father. A few days back, they started work on the final phase of development, based on the plans my father left behind...I could do naught to control the emotions surging through me when I heard the news...

MY FATHER KICKS ASS - TOTALLY, COMPLETELY!

Souvenirs...

Remnants from my childhood…
A dungaree set made by Ma for my favourite doll – this fat stuffed doll that Papa had brought back for me from England, that I refused to give away. I still have her – used to call her Annabelle and at one time, even Moti
Some of my favourite books from childhood - I couldn’t bring myself to give them to nieces/nephews as I did scores of other books.
Deutschlandrëise - a German board game that involves making a planned trip around Germany. It was a gift from one of Papa’s colleagues and an addiction for years amongst my building friends.
Two of my favourite hair-clips that Papa brought back from one of his trips to – they are these huge bows made from satin – big reminders of the time when I had thick, waist-length hair! Ah those days…
The very first bottles of perfume gifted to me – miniature bottles of L’Air du Temps – Nina Ricci (when I was 5 years old) and a few years later, Contradiction – Calvin Klein. Yes, I’ve been using them since that tender age – classy right from the beginning ;-)
The duvet I used as a child (embroidered by Ma of course, as were many of childhood clothes), the kurta from my school uniform autographed all over by batch-mates from the batch of 1997 (shit it’s been a decade! I’m old!), the Arya Samaji stole given to each and every student who graduates from Arya Vidya Mandir.
Pages from my school dairy, class photographs, essays written by me during school years (including one very embarrassing essay, extolling the virtues of a beauty queen that K and I foolishly considered beautiful in our childhood ignorance of true beauty!)…
Certificates, so many of them, that I got each year in Arya Vidya Mandir, some that make me proud (from when I topped or stood in the top 3 in class), some that make me roll my eyes – who else would get certificates in handwriting, in diligence, in sincerity as a student?
Diaries, that recorded in scrupulous detail events and emotions that marked my college years, including my first attempt at love/relationships that leave me cringing in horror at my naivety! Quite a few painful moments in there as well, which make me think it’s time the diaries went…
The key-chain made from cow-leather (and which made my hands stink each time I carried it, for nearly a year after I started using it!)Papa brought back from Milan, Italy. It still has the keys from our home in Gayatri.

Curios and souvenirs of special moments in my life…
A caricature on a tissue-paper made by K, the very first time we went to Mondegar together – each and every memory of our many South-Bombay trips brings a smile instantaneously to my face.
Letters, postcards and cards – from Papa when he was in Venice in the 80’s; from A, after our first gigantic fight, when we patched up and truly became friends for life; from K when I was in Magdeburg, from friends across the globe.
From my sojourn in Magdeburg, Germany in December 2003 – pine needles, a maple leaf, pebbles from the beach in Lacanau, a good-luck charm gifted to me by a friend’s grandmother, tickets from the various trips I made in Germany, France and Sweden, brochures and postcards from all the places I visited, my Vodaphone SIM card…
Corks from wine bottles opened on special occasions, evenings that I’ll cherish forever – the first bottle of wine I finished all by myself, the Montbazillac I shared with K, the bottle from A’s farewell soirée, one from the many bottles opened recently on K’s birthday, yet another from a Provençal wine, opened on a magical evening…
…and of course all my photographs, each and every one of them is worth three times their weight in gold!:-)

Liberated...

Sorting through my stuff as packing for the final big move started, I made the very difficult decision of letting go off my precious Literature notes that I’ve been guarding like treasure worth its weight in gold, since my First year of B.A! My heart swelled with pride as I saw once again (and for the last time) my notes made painstakingly after many visits to libraries, poring over books, scanning material available online and compiling it all together in a neat, organized manner, so as to aid easy comprehension and retention of matter. Then there were all those assignments and examination papers where professors I still hold in esteem had awarded me as high as 13 out of 15! Yes, yes I was quite the ideal student ;-) I must say it’s quite a painful process to big adieu to all of them – it’s almost like cutting off the umbilical cord and finally stepping over the threshold into a new stage of life that no longer has any links with the past. Over-the-top, melodramatic reactions but believe me it felt much like that…

An Evening in Italy...

Toscana...Barely does the world roll off my tongue that my mind conjures images of an idyllic Italian vacation - the sun-kissed country-side, the wind teasing my hair and playfully blowing away my linen shirt to expose my mid-riff; languid afternoons spent sipping a cool drink by the pool, the water glittering under the sun’s rays; a lizard darting across the terracotta floor towards the kitchen from where wafts the heavenly aroma of freshly baked pizza; sultry evenings spent pirouetting in the arms of a sexy Italian…

What I got was a sultry summer evening transformed into an idyllic evening with the cool breeze gently kissing my naked arms and whispering through my hair, as I sat back in a lawn lit by lanterns strung across the space and a few candles scattered across the tables, retro music drifting in from next-door, and dreamy plans of a European vacation over beer, succulent chicken and pasta, with the best dinner companion I’ve had till date…

Where, you ask, did I find my piece of Italian paradise in Pune? Why, at Toscana, the delightful Italian restaurant next to Soho’s, Kalyani Nagar…it was a perfect evening, with just the right ambience, good food (though not pizza, since we opted for pasta for the main course), good service (surprise surprise!!) and, as I said, great company and great conversation. It’s been a long time since I enjoyed an evening out as much as I did at Toscana – and with it, I think I’ve finally broken the jinx of mediocre gastronomic experiences in Pune!

Geetanjali, the Restaurant Critic!

I’ve been thinking I should take up an alternate profession – that of a restaurant critic. Why? Well, I’ve always enjoyed filling out the suggestion/comments form given in restaurants, but off late, I’ve noticed that those forms are becoming increasingly crucial. Why you ask? Well simply because of the falling standards of services, not to mention cuisine, in most restaurants. Restaurants are popping up at every nook and corner like wild mushrooms. Unfortunately the increase in their number hasn’t led to an improvement in services. I’d have thought that the increasing competition would make them treat their clients better, but it seems that the scarce importance given to the client has also disappeared!

To me, the complete gastronomic experience includes not just quality meals but also a good ambience and service. If even one of these criteria isn’t fulfilled, then the experience simply isn’t satisfactory. And I’m sorry, but if I’m paying for the meal, then I think I deserve to enjoy my meal…and if I’m not content then I think I have the right to express my discontent and have it noted and taken into account.

This weekend, to celebrate my cousin’s birthday we’d gone for dinner to Bombay Brasserie. I’d been given the impression that it is a rather posh restaurant, BCBG as the French would say – Bon Chic, Bon Genre - only to discover the restaurant was far from it!

The entire experience was so unsatisfactory, that it bordered on disgusting. It’s a fact well-established that one can’t find good personnel in a restaurant in Pune (except perhaps for the waiters at the Blue D restaurants and at La Dolce Vita) but the waiters here had exceptionally dour faces, and were remarkably inept and ignorant. It didn’t help that they had a certain tendency to lean too much into the client’s space while serving (or was it just one client whose space they insisted on trespassing?) Their food and service had me disappointed before the first-course arrived on our table....

Needless to say, by the time I finished my meal, I was utterly disgusted with the complete waste of a good evening. To eat over-salty, over-spicy food in an over-lit restaurant with tacky string lights on the steps of a wooden floor that had been scratched and abused, with waiters who don’t change the cutlery after the first-course (unless specifically asked) and table-cloths that were dusty – well that is far from my description of a good gastronomic experience. I didn’t hesitate to inform them that their cuisine and services were befitting of a lower grade restaurant and that it pained me to be paying them the prices they demanded. I ensured that my uncle who was paying didn’t leave them a tip – I have to be really annoyed to refuse to leave a tip, so you can well imagine the quality of food and services.

Word of Advice – Stay away from Bombay Brasserie, Dhole Patil Road, Pune.

Simultaneous critique in French on Francesay

From the Unwritten Diary

Swirling whorls of dust descended on us, sweeping up in their fury clothes not pinned down, saplings already struggling to survive the heat and awnings that tried to obstruct their course and slow them down…seated at my computer staring out the window I marveled at how I couldn’t even make out the form of the building in front of ours. And then, as suddenly as it had descended the dust storm disappeared, leaving behind an eerie silence that echoed in my ears uneasily. There is a restless energy inside me that’s been scrabbling for attention, begging for release. I tried to drown it out with music, turning the volume up till the floor beneath my feet throbbed with each beat, but the restlessness inside me just grew, making me yearn for the forbidden. I tried writing, hoping it would bring forth the much needed calm, but what came forth helped naught…my senses are jarringly, electrically alive and my mind jammed with an entangled mess of images. I’m aching to cut loose and head for the unknown, the unexplored…

The skies outsides are a heavy overcast grey, the sunlight streaming through the clouds bathing the landscape in a strange luminosity…and I must rein in this edginess and focus my concentration on a new project. A long, incredibly boring evening lies ahead – oh how will I survive it? I think I shall shock some people tonight…dare I?

Back From Hibernation

I’ve pinched myself several times the last few weeks, trying to believe that it’s really happening – it’s difficult to believe that this dream is actually coming true, that I’ve actually cleared all the obstacles from my path and that very soon I’ll embark on a long awaited voyage. Somewhere deep inside of me, I’m still incredulous about the whole affair! A friend recently commented on my (changed) notions of romance/love, others have drawn my attention to my (apparent) practical attitude towards all matters related to relationships/ambitions/dreams – I think it all boils down to the fear of losing what’s dear to me…

A much delayed (and embarrassingly mediocre) response to a Limerick tag by the charming Wandering Dervish

There once was a girl quite bright,
Her intelligence was much tried,
As were her generosity and patience,
Till at last she lost all her sense.

Tagged: Extempore, Idle Mind, Jo

Current Book: Che Guevera’s Motorcycle Diaries (don’t recommend the film – I know I’m a fool for having missed it since it’s an astoundingly brilliant film! I don’t need salt rubbed into my wounds! Grrrr!)
Current Music: Say it right by Nelly Furtado
Current Mood: Frazzled by the heat, work, studies and myriad chores.
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PIFF - the complete review

Pune International Film Festival 2007 – despite what the newspapers might have said about the crowds it pulled, please be informed that the crowd was extremely disappointing. Even while it’s nice not to worry about not getting good seats, or worse watching a film sitting on the floor of the hall, it’s not at all nice to attend a film festival when the halls are half-empty and it feels like you’ve come for pathetic cinema, instead of the other way around. Also, the organization and the schedules were really screwed up this time – what’s with screening three Chinese films simultaneously and scheduling all the good films at the same time, so you’re forced to choose one and miss three others?

Now that I’ve got the criticism out of the way, let me go ahead and inform you that this year too was a great experience! I hardly saw any films in comparison to the last 2 years when I truly did camp out at ESquare for one week but I still managed to catch over a dozen films, short-films and documentaries. If the films I saw in the last two years appealed to the intellect, this year it was largely the senses and the emotions that were appeased.

Unlike last year, when I saw many serious films, I managed to catch some really big-budget, very mainstream European cinema, which was really fun, yet very moving and intelligent cinema:-

Les Bronzes (French Fried Vacation) – France – Patrice Leconte
An exceedingly side-splitting riotous film about a bunch of French people on a vacation – the insane activities, the hilarious attempts to get laid by all-and-sundry and the hysterical swimming gear had me screaming with laughter!

La Vie est Ailleurs (Life is Elsewhere) – Switzerland – Frédeéric Choffat
Three stories, three countries, one common theme, that life is elsewhere. A very interesting film – its main appeal (for me) was the fact that a large portion of the film was shot in trains and stations in France, Italy and Germany. Needless to say, nostalgia hit very hard as myriad images from December 2003 flew across my mind.

Winterskys (Kissed by Winter) – Norway – Sara Johnsen
A marvelously sensitive film dealing with loss - shot in Poland it revolves around a young doctor who loses her son to leukemia and consequently shifts to a small village. It goes on to deal with her various experiences as a county doctor, her attempts to rebuild her life and her struggle to come to terms with her role in her son’s death.

Tibor vagyok, de hódítani akarok (Young Dumb and Full of Love) – Hungary – Goergely Fonyo
The Hungarian version of American Pie – yes that’s it. How else could I best describe a film that deals with the humorous attempts by an adolescent to lose his virginity on a summer vacation, all the while armed with a fluorescent condom? There were also some hysterically funny scenes revolving around a golden cell phone, oops I meant dildo! ;-) Obviously big budget, very mainstream, but just so much fun. It’s almost liberating to watch such a crazy film at a film festival, normally associated with a more serious genre of cinema!

Ik omhels je met duizend armen (Thousand Kisses) – Netherlands – Willem van de Sande Bakhuyzen
Once again, very big-budget and very mainstream cinema; this one dealt with relationships, guarding as it’s take-off point the relationships and lives of young professionals in the world of fashion and cinema/television. Much crazy fun, sex, partying and holidaying, but also another level of complexity in relationships at home, dealing with the fatality of a parent and losing the parent to euthanasia. As much as I enjoyed seeing this one, it was an equally heart-rending experience sitting through the scenes dealing with euthanasia and much as I miss him and wish he was still around, I’m suddenly very glad I didn’t have to see Papa go through that and want/opt for such an end.

Yadayim Kshurot (Tied Hands) – Israel – Dan Wolman
My second film by Dan Wolman – I’d seen Ben’s Biography last year, and like it, this too, was a sensitively and very intelligently made film dealing with very prevalent issues, yet not being preachy and militant about it. Without revealing much about it, the film basically deals with the attempts of a mother to obtain grass for her son who’s suffering from a fatal disease and needs grass to gain some respite from the pain. In the course of that one night, physically away from her son, she truly comes to know her son and ends up closer to him at the end of the night…and his life. An extraordinary film, worth watching – I’d go as far as asking you to actively search for the film and get your own copy!

And some others as well, namely – Cry, The Beloved Country, The Collector, Reyhaneh, the very strange Macedonia, the stranger A Bahraini Tale and the interminably long and boring The Road.

This year’s PIFF was also my real introduction to the documentary genre – saw some great documentaries which were not only informative, but extremely sensitively shot and touching.

Vietnam Symphony – Australia – Tom Zubrycki
A heart-warming documentary about the Hanoi music conservatory that had to move to the country-side during the Vietnam war, it narrated the experiences of the students as well as the villagers who welcomed the school and its member into their homes – some 40 years later the students, now professionals, go back to the village for a performance. An excellent experience, not only vis-à-vis to what it opened my eyes, but also from the angle of music (except perhaps for that one shrieking wonder!)

The Black Road – Australia – William Nessen
I wasn’t very sure about this film dealing with Aceh (otherwise famous for its struggles post-tsunami) and its struggle for independence from Indonesia. Informative, but highly disturbing, as would be expected from any film dealing with the subject of struggle and that too, such a militant and violent one – I emerged from the film wiser for sure, and wondering what really drives us to indulge in such horrendous deeds all in the name of power.

Rhythm is It – Germany – Thomas Grube and Enrique Sanchez Lansch
Interestingly the first German film I’ve seen despite 3 years of attending PIFF and the only German film I’ve seen apart from Run, Lola Run – an exhilaratingly liberating experience if I may so. Revolving around the production of a dance performance based on Stravinky’s Sacre du Printemps, conducted by Sir Simon Rattle (quite delectably handsome if I may so!) the performance brought together nearly 250 young debutant dancers from variously realms of society and their growth (professionally and personally) through the course of the preparation for the performance. My aesthetic senses and sentiments were highly delighted.

And then, ofcourse there was the Kristophe Kieslowski retrospective. Hard-hitting cinema that forced me to think – really glad I saw at least some of his films and would definitely recommend his films.

My Students – the “Lumières” of the 21st Century!

When I started teaching I never imagined that apart from being incredibly de-stressing and satisfying at an intellectual and emotional level, it would also be an amazing source of humour…the things I hear in class are worthy of being compiled and published in a book! Here’s a teaser:-

• J’ai emmené mes mères là-bas. (I took my mothers there) – My immediate reaction was “Really how many do you have?”
• Je suis une question. (I am a question.) – You can imagine the mirth that followed at this one! Ah bon, really? The student meant to say “J’ai une question” (I have a question.)
• J’étudie lingerie (I study lingerie.) – it took several minutes for all of us to calm down before I figured out that the student meant to say “J’étudie l’ingénierie.” (I am studying engineering.)
• Je suis mort l’année dernière. (I died last year.)- this came as a response on being asked to rearrange the given points and write a biography using the past tense. It seems we don’t know the difference between a biography and an autobiography. I couldn’t help adding another line, “Maintenant je suis phantôme” Now I’m a ghost!;-)
• Souris! (Mouse!) – I’d just reprimanded a boy for talking too much in class and when he said this I did a double-take and was quite horrified. It turns out he was just trying to frenchify the word “Sorry” so instead of saying “Désolé” or simply “Pardon” he ended up called me a mouse!
• Talk about vain efforts to elucidate and illustrate without using English. The word in question was “incroyable” (incredible) and I decided to use an extremely unpunctual student as an example “ Ashwin est arrivé à l’heure? C’est incroyable!” A student’s immediate reaction – “Ah incroyable ça va dire la fiction” (“Incroyable” means fiction!)
• Je reader des nouvelles, player de la guitare et talker with mes friendsa – this one was a classic case of frenchifying english by converting all english verbs into the group of French verbs with the suffix –er. It shouldn’t be difficult to figure out what it means – here’s how it should have been said: Je lis des romans, joue de la guitare et parle avec mes amis.

And I saved the best for the last…

• J’aime fairer un serpent pour Noël. (I like to do a snake for Christmas) – I almost choked on hearing this one – what the student meant to say was J’aime décorer un sapin pour Noël. (I like to decorate the Christmas tree)

And on the same note,

• Vous avez fait qui ce weekend? (Who did you do this weekend?) – to say that I was horrified with this question would be an understatement; luckily the student realized the faux-pas and immediately replaced “qui” with “quoi” so that the question correctly said “Vous avez fait quoi ce weekend?” (What did you do this weekend?)

So what’s the verdict, people? Rib-tickling material isn’t it?

Current Book:- The Dream of Scipio - Iain Pears (it’s captured my attention and imagination completely. I wish I didn’t deal with words all day long and that I had more energy at the end of the day so I make faster progress with it…)
Current Music:- Naked and Sacred – Chhyna Phillips (from the erstwhile Wilson Phillips)
Current Mood:- Most content – after meeting best-friend over lunch and splurging money over the Robert-Collins Français-Anglais-Français dictionary for my translation work, a copy of Hotel Rwanda, so I can finally see it and this incredibly nice, red corduroy skirt…I was (and still am) looking for a short number and this is anything but short, but still very appealing and sexy! :-)

Blame Wandering Dervish for this one ;-)

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There is Therapy and then there is Therapy

I started studying in earnest yesterday - yes that means, out came the new stationery, the highlighters, the myriad coloured pens...and then I sat down, read, underlined, highlighted and started making neat, organised notes with highlighted headings, and post-its and what-not to ensure clarity at the time of revision....yes I know, I'm an incorrigible geek. Geeky Geets - I love her, don't you?

I went shopping today - it wasn't much, just some basics (well not very basic, but basic enough to not feel indulgent, though I did want to indulge, but felt too lazy to seek it...am I making any sense?) but enough to perk up my mood and feel leisurely pampered.

I have three books lined up for the weekend/upcoming week - The Last Song of The Dusk - Siddharth Sanghvi (I figured it's about time I stopped being a snob and gave it a shot, after having avoided it for so long and having heard diametrically opposite reviews about it...), The Motorcycle Diaries - Ernesto "Che" Guevera(really looking forward to reading this one) and The Dream of Scipio - Iain Pears (this I've already started reading - a most fascinating novel set in France, and spanning the collapse of the Roman Empire, the period of the Black Death and the Second World War)...and get this, for a change, none of them is mine, they all come from the informal "AFP teacher-student-colleague library" !!!

I started the day with a heavenly breakfast comprising of scrambled eggs, pancakes, toast, coffee and fruit...and I just ended the day with a dessert that comprised of some Nutty Caramel Mousse Cake, Rustic Chocolate Mousse Cake and some Cappuccino Mousse Cake

Need I say any more?

Current Mood:- Calm...finally

Current Music:- Like a Prayer - Madonna

End of the Tether

I swore to myself I wouldn’t break down – I told myself I’m strong…and I am, but I’m very, very close to the end of the tether. Nerves stretched taut, my patience is wearing thin and my tolerance levels for any kind of inefficiency, indiscipline, incompetence, ignorance, insensibility not to mention insensitivity are at an all-time low. My temper has flared more than once and nearly reached the dangerous levels beyond which I am incapable of practicing reason and am only concerned with making the object of my ire feel like the lowest form of cretin that exists…have had a vicious fight with my brother, lost my temper in class with very horrifying consequences – I’ve actually taken to turning my back on such issues and counting to ten, numbing my senses in order to keep a handle on that temper. Doesn’t help that I’ve had a nasty cold since last week, coupled with a hacking cough and congestion that forces me to take breaks while teaching just to cough and clear my throat like an old woman! That’s when I’m not blowing my nose like a freaking trumpeting elephant! Gah I’m sounding like a woman bordering on PMS – and gah again, I’m not even close to it…someone give me a valid reason for this abominable behaviour, and I mean "valid reason" not "excuse"….sigh. How do people get through life with such low standards for themselves? How do they avoid the inevitable stage of disappointing one self?

Current Music:- Nothing…head hurts too much to take any sound at all. It’s all noise inside my head right now. Tout est bruit, rien n’est musicale, rien n’est agreeable.
Current Mood:- Worn-out and extremely irritable, longing to give more than one person a piece of my mind (to hell with the consequences), but holding back because bloody hell the consequences would be horrifying. Can someone please send a hug by courier, ‘coz I sure could do with one right now…and oh, while you’re at it, toss in a full-body massage as well!