There are stones everywhere in the office (no, nobody’s got stoned). They line the roadway that leads into Graphisoft Park (the Electronics City of Budapest), they line the Danube riverside, they are also placed “strategically”, here there and everywhere and people even sit on them under the trees to discuss office gossip over a cup of coffee or a cigarette. Look closely, and you will find that each of them have patterns on it – no wonder, since all of them are taken from the ruins of Aquincum. Today, there was this guy (or was it a girl? We couldn’t make out, since we were quite far away) wearing something that looked like a shorter version of a toga, standing besides one of these stones. He looked as if he’d just stepped out of a Roman Forum. No wonder perhaps that Sanay Leela Bhansali tried to pass off Budapest as Rome.
Pragati and I, we never venture out to sit on the stones. We prefer to have our discussions in the confines of the coffee corner. Today, Pragati had a desire to drink coffee instead of tea – a difficult thing to do, since in all the options that are written on the monstrous coffee machine, the only one legible to us is “Cappuccino”. I boldly pointed at an entry on the machine (I don’t remember what it was now) and assured her that it was “Tea”. The machine suddenly whirred into life and deposited something into the cup, mixed with a huge amount of milk. Pragati took one sip at it, and gave me a look that said, if looks could kill she would gladly have murdered me. She went around hunting for a tea bag. I pulled out a drawer to show her a zillion flavors of stacked up tea bags. I also pulled out a couple of flavors for her to choose from, but she wisely declined them.
We had to wait a short while for the bus, during which Pragati found it difficult to stop laughing at my statement that Cochin was a metro. Pragati headed straight back to the hotel whereas I headed for the city. There was a band performing a beautiful Bulgarian dance at Vorosmarty Square, as part of the Duna Festival. I stood transfixed there for a long time. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder and I turned back alarmingly. There stood a Hungarian guy and a girl dressed in kurta-pajamas with beads around their necks.
“Are you from India?” they asked. This seems to happen to me everyday, I thought
“Yes, I am” I said
“Which part of India?”
“Bangalore”
“Oh! Bangladesh?” asked the girl (There we go again!)
“No! No! Bangalore. It’s in South India”.
Before she could completely exhibit her ignorance, the guy quickly intervened:
“Bangalore! Ah! Lovely place! I like it a lot. I have been to the ISKCON Temple. It’s beautiful”. The guy introduced himself as Mangal Das, the name he had adopted after he became a “Monk” (the girl’s “name” was Nirmala Devi). He also showed me an ID card of the ISKCON society, which had his Hungarian name on it. Out of courtesy, I introduced myself.
He: “Ravi…Ravi Shankar?”
Me: “Sort of…let’s say”. Going into further details with my surname would have been trouble.
He: “Plays the sitar. You know of course!”
Me: “Oh yes! I know”
He: “Do you also play the sitar”
“Oh no, I can’t play any instruments”, I confessed. We continued watching the performance for sometime more, before I excused myself.
I continued on to Kossuth Lajos ut, and headed in the direction of Ferenciek Tere. My intention was to visit the Dahony Zsinagoga – the Jewish Synagogue on Dahony Street. My hopes were however dashed, as the synagogue had closed at 6:00 p.m. The building was however worth ogling at. It is a huge orange-red structure built in Moslem-style, with two minarets extending up into the sky. I spent a few minutes silently staring at this structure before heading towards Rakoczi ut and the Keleti Palyaudvar – the huge railway station at the end of the street.
Rounding the corner at the junction of Rakoczi ut and Erszebet korut, your eyes fall on the majestic steeple of the Boscolo Hotel. Inside this hotel is housed the magnificent New York Café. I changed direction and headed into the café. It was a beautifully laid out place with the vast pillars and corners gilded with gold. Small chandeliers hung over the tables, and the ceiling sported colorful paintings. I soaked in the atmosphere and ordered a glass of “Budapest Coffee”, casually enquiring to the waitress about what was special about it. “Well, it has milk…and more milk!” she said with a smile. I simply shrugged and smiled back. The coffee cost 1000 Forints, but it was worth the cost!
At the end of the street, situated on a vast square is the Keleti Palyaudvar – one of the three big railway stations in Budapest. Established in 1884, it has an immensely large façade that reminds one of the Haupt Bahnhof in Frankfurt. Statues of James Watt and George Stephenson flank the sides of the entrance. I remembered that tour guide telling me that Stephenson was actually here when the railway station was being built. I don’t know how true it is, considering the fact that George Stephenson died in 1848. Near to the railway station, in a quiet little square, you can find the huge St. Erszebet church. Unfortunately, the church was also closed for the day. I stood staring at the statue of St. Elizabeth and the vast steeple of the church for some time before deciding to head back to the hotel.
Plans to cook something for dinner came to nothing, as we realized that we had no spoons or plates to eat from. So we headed for the restaurant downstairs and had a quiet dinner under the canopy in the garden. “Quiet”, if you leave out the noisy group of Americans at the next table. “Americans are always noisy, wherever they go” - one of Pragati’s pearls of wisdom.
Surprise, surprise! Tonight on the German Music Channel “Viva”, they were featuring “Indische Musik” (or whatever it is called). And guess what they were playing? Himesh Reshammiya’s “Aap ka Suroor”. Talking about “…Suroor”, I did casually mention to Pragati that there is a sequel planned for that movie of his, even before it’s been released.
“You’ll go and see it, won’t you?”
“Why would I?”
“Of course, you like him!”
“No, I don’t”
“Yes, you do! Everybody in office says you do!”
End of argument.
Well, I’d like to lay my hands on this everybody who says “I like him”. Let me just remind you that I started wearing the cap before he did.
Quote of the day: From Pragati: “I have not repeated any of my dresses. In fact some days I have worn two dresses. But still I have not used even half of my dresses”. I’m speechless.
Pic of the Day: In the backside enclosure of the Dahony Synagogue stands the Weeping Willow – a metallic willow tree structure built as a memorial to the Jews killed during the Holocaust.
No comments:
Post a Comment