Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Coming back to life...

On 31st August 2005, my 13-day vacation was cut short to five days, since I had to return to Bangalore to attend a team outbound training program on September 1st. The following is an excerpt from my return journey from Alwaye (a suburb of Cochin) to Bangalore (This is the extended version of the article that came in our employee magazine, Kshitij).

5:30: On my way back: It will be a long day. A cherished desire for train spotting waits to be fulfilled. I have a whole five rolls of film ready for my trip.

7:00: Alwaye: An otherwise busy station is almost empty. The Calicut intercity waits at the platform as a few passengers frantically try for tickets. In no hurry myself; I let them go ahead of me.

7:45: Waking Up: It’s a long wait in the sleepy town waking up to a new morning. There’s scarcely a soul at the station. A few rays of the morning sun stream through the clouds. To my surprise, the train turns up on time, behind a screaming red-yellow engine.

7:50: A long wait: We pass by the Cochin International Airport. Unlike the railway station, it is a busy day here – there are two aircrafts taxiing on the runway, and a few others waiting patiently for their turn at the terminal.

8:11: Click! Click!: My first train sighting! A bright red WAP4 screams past. I get to work with my camera.

8:20: A little sunshine: After playing hide and seek in the clouds, the sun finally streaks through. The countryside is bathed in warm, golden sunshine.

8:22: Dhadak! Dhadak!: We scream through the countryside. The stretch between Alwaye and Thrissur is one of the most beautiful in this country. Dotted with green fields and sparkling rivers, we travel through a heavenly countryside, caressing the curves.


8:51: Thrissur: A delicious breakfast of home-made idlis. We pull out of Thrissur. Whatever crowd was there in the train is no longer there. We glide past the slums that dot the trackside in Thrissur. It’s morning – time for the children to have their bath. Under the cascading water, they are dancing gleefully, oblivious of whatever the future may have in store for them.

8:52: A home for four years: Punkunnam, a suburb of Thrissur, with a small railway station, neglected by most super-fast trains. My home for four years during childhood. The station where I nurtured my love for trains and travel has barely changed, except for the odd fruit stall.

9:01: Coffee: They call it coffee. So do I – since I’ve paid for it.

9:10: Picture Perfect: The sun is shining again. I can see the hills coming closer. It’s time to take out my camera. Oh dear! It’s so lovely! Why am I going back?


9:11: Ghostly Sentinels:
We pass through a couple of hills. It’s not yet autumn, but the trees are bare to the bark. They loom up like ghostly sentinels guarding the forest.

9:35: The great river: Bharatapuzha – Kerala’s longest river! A river which has spawned many a story and inspired many an artiste now lies as an expanse of sand – the victim of years of neglect and cruelty!

9:45: Shoranur: A small and sleepy town where nothing happens. The biggest landmark here is the sprawling railway junction, on the banks of the great river. As we wait for the 20-minute reversal stop, I notice a small shrine in the middle of the platform. It’s just a stone, nestling under a tree. But you can see a garland around it, with a teeka on its forehead. Does it teach me a lesson? Perhaps in the midst of all our toil in our daily life, we still can find God hidden somewhere!

10:15: Scarecrows dressed for the night: We are gliding on a green carpet. Fields stretch from the tracks to the hills in the distance. It is almost the harvest season. I can see the crops swaying in the wind. On the other side, the great river winds its way along with us. I also spy the occasional scarecrows, dressed in various outlandish costumes – one even in a night dress. Fashion designers in the making?


10:22: Speeding through: Ottappalam: One glance at the station will make people wonder why all trains stop here – well, almost all! Today we speed past at full throttle. A sight to behold!

10:36: Old Age: On the outskirts of Palghat lies the quaint little village of Parli. A row of old double storey houses, with tiled roofs and tiny verandahs, line the tracks. It’s a wonder that these haven’t been replaced by ugly concrete structures.

10:46: “Palghat Junction welcomes you”: The cloudy sky broods over Palghat Junction as we pull in. The first words that you hear as you enter the station is the pleasant announcement welcoming you, as well as information on the trains expected in the next few hours – something that is common to all railway stations on this division. Palghat, or Palakkad as it is known, puts me in a trance. Towards the South of the station, at the foot of the Western Ghats and the now-dry Kalpathy river lies the village of the same name. Kalpathy, the village made famous by the so-called “Palakkad Iyers”. We visit this place – my father’s ancestral home – every year. I can imagine the afternoon breeze sifting through the scorched road that leads down the hill. Rows of houses connected to each other by common walls line the roadside. The ladies of the house would have finished their cooking and would be engaged in heated discussions on Tamil serials (In olden days, it would have been on how much tamarind should ideally be used for preparing sambar, or what happened to that girl from the village who ran away with the guy she loved, but television has changed everything). I am completely enamored by its beauty. I wish I could get off the train.

11:00: Into the gap: A maze of tracks lead the way out of Palghat Juction. A few kilometers away, I can see the mountains. Their immense peaks are covered by a tablecloth cloud. Coconut groves reach up to the base of these mountains. The houses go by slowly, their gardens full of beautiful violet flowers.


11:13: Tiger-faces: Passing through Kanjikode. Two tiger-face WAG7s stare at me, heading a long goods train. After zipping through the station, we head towards the looming Walayar Ghats – the most beautiful part of our journey. On one side lies the sprawling plain of the Palghat Gap, while on the other, the looming mastiffs of the Western Ghats. A small stream of water trickles down the rock face, forming a tiny waterfall. A cloud runs ahead to cover the naked face of the rock. Soon, we are aside the mountains. Drool over the scene while it lasts!

11:20: Middle of the forest: From the scenic mountains and plains, we are in the midst of the dense Walayar forest. Above the noise made by the train, you can still hear the birds chirping away merrily. An old woman walks along the lonely forest trail, gathering wood for an evening meal.

11:24: Familiar frontiers: We pass through Walayar. The Malabar Cements factory towers over the small station, in the middle of the forest. National Highway 47, which runs parallel to us, is jammed with trucks trying to get past the Border Check Post of Kerala. In spite of all these, there is an uneasy silence in the air, punctured only by the rickety sound of the train. Soon we will pass above the small stream, which separates the states of Kerala and Tamil Nadu.

11:38: End of roll: It’s only three and a half hours since I started, but I’ve finished the roll in my camera! – and more than two thirds of the photos do not feature any trains. We are passing through the open Tamil Nadu countryside. The mountains are coming closer to us.

11:40: The dancing men: Ettimadai – Once a broken down station, now spruced up because of the sprawling campus of the Engineering Institute nestled into the hills behind it. An omnipresent tablecloth obscures the hill top. A group of students are performing some sort of calisthenics on the terrace of one of the hostels. Perhaps some kind of a noon-time ritual. A small temple adorns an adjoining hill-top, announcing that you are now in Tamil Nadu.

11:47: A Cemented Presence: We zip past the huge Madukkarai Cements factory. It’s a chalky white environment. Even the rooftops of the adjoining houses have become permanently ashen, as if in a gloomy ghostly world.

11:49: Yaadein Yaad Aati Hai: The iron horse slows down to a trot after steaming past Podanur. We are approaching Coimbatore Junction! Old memories keep flooding back. The few years when my father was stationed here, the summer vacations I spent here as a kid, I remember all those!

12:00: Coimbatore: The end of my first leg of the journey, I take out my cell phone and find that it has been switched off. As I turn in on, I hear the familiar beep of an SMS – perhaps one of those “Dear Karnataka subscriber, Airtel wishes you…blah blah blah” messages. To my surprise, it turns out to be a Good Morning wish from my friend. Alas! Too late to wish her back by any standards…

12:15: Basic Necessities: My stomach screams for attention, and I oblige with a delicious helping of “Thayir Saadam”. I love this place!

12:30: Time to waste:
Two hours to go for my next train. I spend some time composing questions for my next quiz. Fed up with it soon, I decide to explore the vast, but generally empty station. There’s a small crowd waiting for the Coimbatore-Chennai Kovai Express.

12:45: Cleanliness & Godliness: They say cleanliness is next to godliness. The Indian Railways seem to be on a drive to keep the station clean. On every empty track you can see a railway employee, cleaning the place with a powerful jet of water. In another half an hour, the next train will come in and leave, and he will have to start his job again!


13:15: The Beehive: The station is suddenly abuzz like a beehive! I look ahead and spot the Bangalore-Coimbatore Inter City Express smoking in. This will now double as the Kovai Express to Chennai. In barely a few minutes, the train is full, and everything is quiet again. Thankfully, it is a weekday. On a weekend, you would need to push your way through here.

13:55: Gaadi Bula Rahi Hai: The Inter City Express to Bangalore hoots its way in from Chennai. The absence of much of a crowd helps my cause in obtaining a window seat. I’m on my way again!

14:25: An age old city: Those who’ve been to Coimbatore know that it is a hugely expanding textile centre. However, pulling out of the station gives you a contrasting image of the city. The train takes you through some remaining vestiges of the old city. You can see the long closed-down gate of the Somasundaram Mill. A dilapidated road passes underneath the track. It’s cracked at several places and no longer in use…

14:38: Steeped in tradition: ….Huge “Kolams” dot the courtyards of the old houses. It is afternoon now, but the designs are still fresh from the morning, when you wake up hearing the devotional hymns blaring out from the nearby temples.

14:46: Pal do pal ka saath: My fellow travelers are an old couple from Palakkad. They are sleeping peacefully in each other’s arms, as a gentle breeze caresses an otherwise hot afternoon. A momentary glance through the opposite window, gives me a glimpse of the impending storm. Black ominous clouds gather, threatening to spoil this idyllic bliss.

15:10: Déjà vu: The storm breaks in a torrent over the town of Tiruppur. Travelers waiting for our train are caught helpless in the downpour. Looking out of the window, I can barely make out the adjacent track. I’m transported back a couple of years when traveling in the same train, I encountered a similar ferocious storm at Salem.

15:23: A sea of mud and water: What was a couple of hours ago a thoroughfare is now a sea of water and mud. Cars and buses are floating in the road nearby. The result of nature’s fury or man’s neglect?

15:30: The rain has relented at last. I open the window. Small drops are still dripping from the window sill. The smell of the damp earth fills the air.
15:33: She’s really attractive…and her long hair is lovely! With a glance back, she walks away into the adjoining coach…

15:42: My dil goes mmmm…: There’s still rain in the air…a cool breeze blows…I lean on to the window and start humming…

15:51: The heat is on: Whatever happened to the rain? A hot and dry wind blows as we pull into Erode Junction.

16:11: The divide: Kaveri! A bone of contention that divides two states; a lifeline for many who depend on her and worship her as a goddess. Today, she’s swollen to her full by the rains, and flows angrily with twirling currents, as we thunder over her on the long bridge.


16:25: Anangur, a small station in the middle of nowhere…You wouldn’t give a second place to this place as you pass through. But today, it has transformed itself into a different world. A group of children dressed in white and blue is returning home from school. A game of cricket is on nearby. A group of men sit under a tree on the platform, engrossed in a game of cards. A couple of women are gathering sticks, perhaps to light a stove, discussing among themselves what to cook. To add to this environment, a distant sandstone hill glows red in the evening sun.

16: 32: We crawl to a stop at Sankaridurg, a sleepy little village with a station bigger than itself. Underneath the tracks, a road leads to the village square, which houses a few shops, most of them closed. In the distance, the bare hills glow in the sun. The whole place looks as if taken out of a Bollywood movie.

17:03: Thodi si Pet Pooja – Arrival at Salem Junction. I feast myself to some vegetable cutlets. Delicious enough to satisfy my hunger, but pale in comparison to those we used to get in the University Canteen during my college days. The late evening sun bathes the platform with his golden hue. The place is filled with small saplings – thanks to an group called the Salem tree lovers or something.

17:11: Avenues, wells and ayyanarkoils: The last leg of our journey is on…the single line from Salem to Bangalore is dotted by the huge ayyanarkoils, which guard the villages in these parts. This is a landscape filled with tree-lined avenues and wells.

17:45: In the middle of nowhere: Muttampatti, a small and beautiful station, almost in the middle of nowhere. We have just climbed up the Deccan Plateau. On one side of the station, the tracks move down the hills into the plain below, where as on the other, they curve onto the forest beyond. As we proceed, I spot a small stream flowing alongside the road that follows us. Soon, the road is no longer visible. It has transformed into a forest trail. If not for the train, you wouldn’t believe that you were in the midst of a civilized land.

18:10: The last rites: Dharmapuri. The climb is over. The sun is setting on the opposite side, casting his fiery glow on everything. In the distance, the mountain tops are ablaze in the evening light. Rejoice O Nature! You have just performed the last rites on my sad, short vacation.

21:00: The train has stopped at Baiyyappanahalli. What started off as an anticipated long day had ended abruptly! I get down here with a heavy heart. Tomorrow will be a new day, a new trip… Back to hearing and giving IT-related fundas! Is this the life we are longing for? Today, I saw my country as I want to see it. I saw a life which I would love to live. I’m now back in the life I’m living. After today, I’m none the wiser!

Monday, July 23, 2007

The Early Bird catches the worm

The cell phone beeped exactly at 4:00 in the morning. I had set an alarm to be woken up early. I was alone at home, and today was the 21st of July, 2007. The big day for book lovers – the release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows was merely a few hours away. I lay there in bed for a long time, wondering whether it was an extravagance to rise early and drive all the way. I had pre-ordered my copy, and hence could always go and collect it later. At 4:30, I finally got up with the firm intention of collecting my copy at the earliest.

The book was scheduled to be released at 5:30 in the morning. The drive to Landmark was extremely pleasant, due to the fact that they were hardly any vehicles on the Outer Ring Road. At 5:00 in the morning, The Forum Mall looked quiet and eerie, lit up in dim fluorescent lights. A few cars were already lining up outside. On the second floor, a queue of 100-odd had already formed. To my surprise, there were not many kids around. The crowd seemed to be made up, mostly of crazy potter enthusiasts like me. Some of them were seated there from 9:00 pm the previous day.

Coffee was being served to those in the line – though it never reached me – and ‘Sweet World’, the candy shop opposite to Landmark, showed great enterprise, as they immediately opened up to lure the kids who had turned up. The middle-aged lady standing beside me in the queue seemed quite surprised to see so many people, and confessed that she had expected to just walk in and collect the books. She had come there with her little niece, who called up her mother to boast that she was actually standing in a queue to pick up her book. The little girl, Shreya, was soon in the limelight, as a few reporters who had turned up there came running to interview her about the usual stuff: “Are you a big fan of Harry Potter? Since how long have you been reading the books? Who’s your favorite character? Blah blah blah” The kid seemed to be quite excited at all the attention. “You’ve been interviewed by ‘The Hindu’! Now that’s not something that happens in you hometown. Does it? Let’s tell your mother about this!” exclaimed her aunt.

At 5:40 a.m. – ten minutes after the “scheduled launch” – a girl came out of the store, microphone in hand, and started blabbering something. For a moment I wondered whether it was parseltongue since I couldn’t decipher anything she was saying, but a minute she stopped, realizing finally that the microphone was switching. She again started off in a drooling fashion: “Goood Mooorneeeng everyone!” Thankfully, the guys sitting in the front of the queue decided not to show off their frustration, and responded with a gentle ‘good morning’. The shock came soon though: “the book will be released exactly at 6:30”: she drooled on. The news was greeted by a collective groan. What followed was a barrage of questions as to why there is a 1 hour delay, when the book was to be released at 5:30. Quite confident with her, the girl continued: “Well, the launch of the book has been put off by 1 hour worldwide!” Very unwise thing to do…Within minutes, cell phones were out, and all of them had proved her wrong. “JK Rowling has finished her public reading of the book!” retorted one of the guys, dressed up as if he were on a camping trip. Thankfully, one of the store assistants had the common sense to come out and pull the girl in. Soon enough, a chant started out among the assembled: “530! 530! 530!”

The girl was not content yet. She came out soon enough and announced: “Penguin has released the book at 5:30 itself, and you have to wait till the stock reaches our outlet from the warehouse, and as soon as it reaches here, we’ll open up”. Somebody questioned back about whether they had considered the traffic jams in Bangalore. Before the girl could answer, the shop assistant had reappeared and pulled her back in. The crowd decided to amuse themselves, and started an airplane race. Soon the place was filled with paper airplanes whizzing past your nose. Amused at the scene, Headlines Today decided to make the most out of it, and set up their equipment to record the whole thing. The anchor started screeching and shrieking as to how, she had never seen “such an atmosphere” so early in the morning. There was some stupid contest going on. We were given sheets of paper to fill up some puzzles and submit for a lucky draw. Some of the guys were eagerly filling up the forms. I took one glance at the sheet and threw it into the wastepaper bin.

Finally at 6:15 the doors opened. There was no mad rush to go inside. It took almost five minutes for me to get inside and pick up my copy. There were some excited shrieks – not from any of the kids, mind you – from some of the ladies: “I can’t believe it! It’s finally in my hand!" As Obelix might have said, "These Muggles are crazy!" “Breakfast” (as they said) had been arranged for everyone – it consisted of one pastry, and a small triangular piece of sandwich. I sat there reading my copy, until I finished the whole of the first chapter. The book was 600-odd pages long – a relief when compared to “The Order of the Phoenix”. It was going to be a long day…and perhaps long nights, for there were miles to read before I sleep.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Unko yeh shikayat hai ke hum kuchh nahin kehte...

Immortal words from the movie "Adalat" by Rajendra Krishan, sung even more beautifully by Lata Mangeshkar.

Words keep drying up in my throat. I can't bring myself to speak too often. Perhaps it is time that I stopped speaking and just write...write...until the pen breaks.

Kahne Ko Bahut Kuchh Tha Agar, Kahne Pe Aate
Duniya Ki Inaayat Hai Ke Ham, Kuch Nahin Kahate

Sunday, July 01, 2007

The Pearl of the Danube: A Photo Essay

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Life has a bright side and a dark side. The old buildings of Vaci ut are highlighted in the afternoon sunlight.

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Huge lamps dot the sides of the Szechernyi Lanchid. At 9 p.m., they are switched on en-masse...

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...and the result is this. The Lanchid, lit up in full glory.

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A monument for the unsung brave, who gave their life for the freedom of others. The House of Terror, Andrassy Road.

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The Heroes Square, lit up in splendor at night.

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Wonder why there's so many MacDonald's symbols around? Because, this is one of the most beautiful MacDonald's outlets in the world. At Nyugati Palyaudvar, the Western Railway Station.

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The seat of power and the scene of so many power struggles. The Hungarian Parliament House, as seen from the Buda Palace.

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They're not as famous as Picasso, Rembrandt or Van Gogh, but Hungary has contributed many a genuis painter. "The Sleeping Woman", a painting by a Hungarian artist, hangs in the National Gallery.

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When darkness descends into life, pray to God Almighty (St. Anne's Church, Batthyany Ter).

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The colourful and enchanting glass windows of the Matthias Church, Castle District.

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A lone tram ploughs along the banks of the Danube on the Buda side.

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For those of you who like to say, "It happens only in India", disfiguring beautiful monuments is not a monopoly of the Indians. Graffiti adorns the massive and neglected gates of the Buda Palace.

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The bridges on the Danube (Gellert Hill).

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Time stands still on the Danube Promenade.

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Music is the best source of entertainment for some. For others, it is a way of life (Fisherman's Bastion, Buda).

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The little princess waits for ever on the Danube Promenade...

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...where as this little princess cannot wait to finish her ice cream (Vorosmarty Ter).

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Buses, trams, boats and the Metro. But she's got the best possible ride in town (Danube Promenade).

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Spring's gone and summer is here. The fading flowers are reflected on the windows of the Buda Palace.

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The Soviets left long back, but there's still some Red left over here (Robinson's, City Park).

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A little girl picks flowers for her mother. Life's so comfortable...(St. Gyorgyi Tere, Buda Palace).

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...not for this little one though. Life's never comfortable if you are a pawn on a chessboard (Buda Palace).

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Generation Gap. An old couple watch youngsters enjoy the evening (Deak Ferenc Ter).

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The long way home (The Citadel).

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End of the day, as the sun sets in the backdrop of the Buda Castle

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Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Budapest Diary - The Last Day

“Is the mango season in Bangalore over?” asked Jens as we boarded the flight to Bangalore. I couldn’t hide a smile, and replied back: “It’s raining now, hence it should be over”. I was glad to board the flight back to Bangalore, for so far it had been a disastrous day.

They were my last few hours in the beautiful city of Budapest – the end of the road for me. Waking up at 3:45 am, I looked out of the balcony. In the distance, the sky was slowly turning red. Hatar Ut was deserted, the huge bus stand quiet and still. A few buses and a tram were still parked. The huge Euro Park glowed with neon lights from all the shops. I quickly dressed and did some re-arranging of my luggage. Yesterday night I could not even lift the same. Rita, the lady at the reception had checked its weight and informed that it weighed 27 kg! – remember that I am carrying half of Pragati’s clothes. By the time I set off for the airport, it was 4:30, and the sun was rising (that’s how it is here).

Things started going wrong once I reached the airport. It is turning out to be a day of disasters so far. My watch broke. That’s not much of a disaster, but if you are the superstitious type, you can call it a bad omen. There were hardly a handful of people at the check-in counter, but for those of us, who reached early since we had connecting flights from Frankfurt, the lady at the check-in counter dropped the bomb - the flight to Frankfurt had been cancelled! I had to wait in another queue for more than an hour, thanks to a cribbing British family, who wanted to go somewhere, but was not willing to take a flight through Amsterdam just because their kid threw a tantrum that she did not want to go to Amsterdam! After a half-hour discussion and some stern words from the lady at the ticket desk, they finally shut the kid up and took a flight through Paris. Thankfully, they have put me on a MALEV flight at 7:50, so that I could catch the connection flight. But I still need to get the boarding pass at the gate in Frankfurt. I am open to the possibility that the flight could be overbooked!

The MALEV flight left from Terminal 2A, which meant that I had to do a bit of walking. Not something big for me, but not when you are slugging a 30 kg-odd suitcase along. And to make matters worse, there was not a single airport trolley around. Oh! I love Bangalore airport! The conveyor belt for the checking in the luggage broke down. The bright part of this was that they could not check the weight of my luggage. Hence, no dues so far! But there is a high probability that my luggage might not even reach Bangalore today. At the passport check, the guy seems to have thought that I was a terrorist or sort. First of all, he saw my Indian passport, and asked me whether I was a Hungarian citizen! Then he asked me to wait for about 20 minutes, while he went into the room. I saw him talking to some 5-6 guys in big impressive uniforms – the door was kept open, perhaps so that whatever happens inside would scare the living daylights out of anyone watching. Finally he came outside and said: “No problems!” Well at least I found someone who does not have a problem.

The biggest disaster of the day, if it had happened, would have been solely attributed to my absent mindedness, with nobody else to blame – for I almost flew to Rome instead of Frankfurt. I got into the wrong flight, by entering Gate 27 instead of 26. Luckily, the air hostess inside the flight noticed my boarding pass, and quickly escorted me outside the plane. The MALEV fight (with ‘new age technology’, as the pilot announced – I’m curious) was a revelation. They have one of the youngest fleet of planes in Europe, and have good seats with ample leg room. Everything went smoothly, and we got glimpses of Vienna, Linz, Passau and Nuremberg before we reached Frankfurt…and ran into the storm. It was worse than the Delhi flight, as the aircraft was tossed inside the dark cloud cover. The whole aircraft even plunged into darkness.

It was no wonder then that I was relieved on reaching Frankfurt. This time, we were guided to terminal three, which is usually the bastion of foreign flight. It meant that I got to see some airlines other than Lufthansa. And as is the case a lot of times, there was no security check at Frankfurt.

Finally I’m on the last leg of the journey – on my way back, with bitter-sweet memories of two weeks spent in a beautiful city that many of us in SAP has never seen. Memories of these two weeks are now etched in my mind, and in the 970-odd photographs I took in the past 2 weeks. It is now time to sit back and immerse myself in these memories. Perhaps it was a dream…Suddenly I feel a pang of pain.

The overhead monitor in the flight is beaming the movie “Guru”, and what better words to sum up thoughts on this trip than the song from the movie:

Jaage Hain Der Tak, Hamein Kuchh Der Sone Do
Thodi Si Raat Aur Hai Subha Toh Hone Do
Aadhe Adhure Khwab Jo Poore Na Ho Sake
Ek Baar Phir Se Neend Mein Woh Khwab Bone Do


Let me sleep now...

Budapest Diary - Day 16

My last full day in Budapest! For the past few days I have been roaming around on the Pest side, so I decided to venture out to the Buda side today. The day however started quite late (by my standards) after yesterday night’s heroics – at 9:00 am. But by 10:00 I was in the metro, traveling into the city for the last possible time. For my two weeks over here, the metro has been the source of transit, and by now, I can figure out the metro routes without the aid of a map. Talking of maps, I have managed to tear my second map with constant usage.

Once again, I headed for Vorosmarty Ter. No surprises today – no public performances were being staged in the morning and the Square was deserted. People seemed to have set up their wares on Vaci ut, since the faint notes of a violin was audible. I headed for Roosevelt Ter, and for the umptieth time, to the Szechernyi Lanchid. I could have opted to take the metro to the Buda side, but my obsession with the Chain Bridge won the day, and I decided to walk across it. The day was hot but pleasant and a faint breeze was flowing across the Danube. My first destination was the Budavari Castle on the top of the hill.

The castle can be accessed either by twisted walkways, or more romantically, by a funicular railway. Two cars, Gellert and Margit, take tourists and visitors up to the gates of the Royal Palace. As the car descent upwards, you get to see a breathtaking view of the Pest side all round. On the courtyard of the palace, they were setting up some kind of stalls, completely spoiling the look of the façade. I was of two minds – whether to head into the palace and spend the next few hours immersed in the museum or head for the Fisherman’s Bastion and the Matthias Church. The possibility that today being a Sunday the church might be closed for mass, prompted me to opt for the former option. Before heading into the palace museum, I had to shop for souvenirs. The lady at the shop seemed to be excited to hear that I was from the “far away exotic land of India”. She gave me a might 20 % discount on the souvenirs. As I had vowed to Pragati, I did buy those beautiful Hungarian dolls – in fact three of them (“he is a 30+ guy who plays with dolls” she had remarked).

The palace is another grand museum – in fact it houses two. I limited myself to one of them – the Hungarian National Gallery that houses paintings by Hungarian artists. They may not be as famous as the likes of Picasso, Rembrandt or Van Gogh, but the paintings are lovely and spectacular. I spent a full three hours over there before heading towards the Fisherman’s Bastion. From up here, you can get a beautiful glimpse of the Danube with all her bridges and the sprawling view of the city stretching out on the Pest side. On the backside of the palace, the hills of Buda stretch out, packed with houses on their slope. The grand courtyard behind the castle is famous for the Matthias Well, a drinking fountain famous for its statue of a hunter and a pack of dogs. All the tourists, especially the Chinese and the Germans were going gaga over the superb panoramic view. There were a few Indians too, but most of them had an air of superiority over them and behaved like snobs, avoiding any attempt at socializing – especially the ones who were alone. The families were quite nice, and I even had lunch and a cup of coffee with a couple from Kolkata.

The claim to fame of the Matthias Church, as far as we Indians are concerned is that it is here that Salmon Khan screamed his heart out: “Agar Mile Khuda Toh, Poochhoonga blah blah blah…” in that movie. It is a beautiful gothic cathedral with huge stained glass windows (I admit I’ve got something for them). The steeple is currently under renovation, and hence one is not admitted up there. But the interior of the church is enough to captivate you. The cathedral was extremely crowded with tourists, with some insensitive bunch of people even clicking photos with flashes, in spite of usage of flash not being allowed. I was constantly changing my camera lenses to take photographs. Out of the blue, a group of Portuguese tourists (How do I know? The guide was holding a Portuguese flag to indicate to the crowd where she was standing) suddenly started singing Gregorian Chants. Their voices reverberated into multiple echoes in the vast interior of the building. Soothing and scintillating as it was, the sudden voices made me drop my camera lens! Thankfully, the floor was carpeted and my preciousss lens was not damaged.

The Hungarians are almost like us Indians. Their national sport is something they are not successful in – in this case, Soccer. The Hungarians are however quite successful in other sports (remember Krisztina Egerszegi, the Olympic medal winning swimmer in the late eighties?). The success of the greatest woman chess grandmaster, Judit Polgar, seems to have had its effect in the popularity of chess in the country. In the streets you can find people setting up chessboards, challenging passer-bys for a game of chess. It was a pleasant surprise to see the announcement that a live chess match, featuring live chessmen (now if that is deemed feminist, perhaps I should use “chesspersons”) would be held at 5:00 pm. I stayed back to watch the same. Here was a group of young men and women (some of them little boys and girls), enacting out chess matches on an enormous chessboard. It was an experience unto itself.

I had purposefully purchased only a one-way ticket for the funicular, with the intention of climbing down the hill on foot. My next stop was Gellert Hill and the Citadel on top of it. I climbed down to the chain bridge and continued further south on the Danube Promenade on the Buda side. This was a stretch I had not walked on before. The walkway is flanked by the tramway, covered by the canopy of trees. Cars whiz past the huge old gateways of the palace. Even though the palace (and even the whole city of Budapest) is a UNESCO World Heritage monument, the old gateway has fallen into disuse and is ‘decorated’ by graffiti at many places – a habit which is not restricted to India as we would like to thing.

Towering over the Danube between the Elizabeth bridge and the Liberty Bridge, Gellert Hill was a challenge. The old lady and the gentleman I met at the foot of the hill warned me that I was a strenuous half-hour climb. I smiled at them and said that I would still like to risk it. He wished me luck and I started the climb. The pathway snaked up through the shrubs and trees on the hill. A Hungarian guy had placed a game of chance on a glade in the pathway and a stupid American Tourist was trying to lose his dollars by betting. Soon I started growing tired, as by now I had been walking for 8 hours and I was hungry. I had to rest twice on the way up, but managed to reach the citadel. The statue of liberty towered tall over me. This was the highest point in the city of Budapest.

The souvenir shops had already started closing but there was still quite a crowd around. The reason was the spectacular panoramic view that the spot offered. The sun was also setting, casting its orange glow on one side of the Danube. The whole city was visible from here from one end to the other. I sat there for quite a long time, quietly contemplating the view. Soon, it was evident to me that it was time to leave. This was my last view of the City of Budapest. I got up for the last trip back.

So long, farewell, Auf wiedersehen, good night,
I hate to go and leave this pretty sight.


As Pragati had remarked a few days back, it always pains to leave from anywhere, and I had finally fallen in love with this beautiful city

Reason argued that I cross the Elizabeth Bridge and take the metro from Ferenciek Tere. But a last wish to walk across the chain bridge took me to Roosevelt tere. Perhaps it was poetic justice, for my last walk in Budapest was to trace back the path me and Pragati had taken on our first day here – from Deak Ferenc Tere to the Chain Bridge.

Observation of the day (rather, the trip): The most common quote by Pragati during this trip: “Are you mad?”

Pic of the Day: “The Sleeping Woman”, a Hungarian painting that hangs in the Palace

Saturday, June 23, 2007

Budapest Diary - Day 15

Today is the Night of Museums. A great concept, where all the museums in the city would remain open throughout the night, and with a single ticket, you can hop on to the umpteen museum buses that ferry people between the museums. The same ticket can be used for accessing all the museums. Quite a good concept since for me today was the Day of Museums, and without such interventions I was no way going to complete more than one museum on this day.

I am a ‘flaneur’ – a wanderer with no purpose to the world. This weekend is one for wandering and today perhaps with its museums was the best time. So I thought. But before the day would be over, I would be proved wrong – for I managed to visit only three museums. When I emerged out of the Heroes Square station, the day had already turned hot. There was no more photography left at the Square after yesterday’s heroics (pun unintended). My first destination was obviously from where I left off last week - The Museum of Fine Arts. This time I got myself a guide book and headed into the museum. With the guide book, I could locate specific paintings that I was looking for. Unfortunately, the Night of Museums program was turning out to be a thorn in the flesh since some of the portions were closed to the public as preparations for the time. I still managed to spend a lot of time in the company of the “Old Masters”. The biggest throng of the crowd was reserved for the temporary exhibition on the Incas – a collection of artifacts from various periods of the Inca Civilization. Pragati would have dismissed it as “all that sh**”, but I thoroughly enjoyed it.

By the time I got off the exhibitions it was nearly 2:00 pm. I had to head to the Hungarian National Museum. But on a sudden hunch I stepped off at Vorosmarty Ut (different place from the one I’ve been mentioning until now). Andrassy Road ran busy in all splendor – as I have already mentioned yesterday, it is the city’s most beautiful thoroughfare. But strangely, both the terror regimes that ruled this country – the Arrow Cross Party during World War II and the Communist regime after that, chose one of the picturesque neo-renaissance buildings as the headquarters for their reign of terror – No. 60 Andrassy Road.

“The deeper we descend into the past, the fewer witnessed remain, oral tradition subsides into silence, memories are lost in the mists of time…” said Alexander Solzhenitsyn. The House of Terror is the Hungarians’ attempt to prevent that. Like the name implies this is not a haunted house, but a museum on the atrocities committed by the two terror organizations during their reign – a memorial to their victims. At the same time, it is indeed a haunted house, as what you experience inside does haunt you. On the outside wall are embedded small pictures of the people who went “missing” during the period. A small wreath and a memorial plaque adorns the wall – a perfect setting to entice the unsuspecting tourist inside for a haunting experience. The building has a dull courtyard that houses a huge Soviet tank. On one side is a huge wall that runs up the three floors of the building. The wall is again dotted with black and white photographs of all the victims of the terror regime. Starting on the second floor with the headquarters of the Arrow Cross Party and their atrocities, you are taken through a journey of terror, from the torture chambers down to the basement prison cells, where hundreds of so-called state enemies were housed while being tortured for days on end. The place is a must-visit for anyone coming over here.

It was past five when I was done with the House of Terror, and I headed for the National Museum that concentrates completely on the history of Hungary, from the pre-historic period to the fall of the communist government. The big attractions however were the temporary exhibitions on Genghis Khan (yep, he and his hordes had conquered Hungary) and the Mongolian Invasion. The museum was in its final stages of preparation for the big night. The good news was that there was no ticket required – only the sticker that I had purchased for the night earlier in the day. And the bad news, a photography ticket cost 3000 Forints – ten times more than that at the Museum of Fine Arts (The House of Terror is one step ahead. They don’t even allow photography, but for good reasons. You can’t have people gleefully clicking photographs in that place). I mumbled to myself as I shelled out the money. The girl at the counter stuck a sticker on my chest which proclaimed “photography allowed” (with a picture of Genghis on it) as if I were some exhibit.

By 6 O’clock there was quite a crowd at the place. A small queue was forming up at the entrance to the Genghis exhibition so I decided to see that later (the queue would have gone by them, I surmised) and headed for the historical exhibitions. Precious time spent at the Terror House came to my aid as I helped out a couple of ladies in identifying some of the figures in the communist regime exhibition such as Matyas Rakosi and Janos Kadar (@ Pragati, Ila and others: I’m not showing off. Just stating what happened). After a couple of hours of history classes, I stepped out and found to my horror that the queue for the Genghis exhibition stretched a few kilometers. A grueling half-hour later, I was inside the exhibit hall. There were a gew guys distributing a newspaper copy. It proclaimed itself as the “London Evening Post”, but was fully in Magyar. I wondered why.

The exhibition was indeed awesome, except for some exhibits – little iron pieces that proclaimed to be some portion of Genghis’s chariot or sword. And people were gaping at these pieces as if they were out of this world. Now how the hell can you say that this particular piece of iron formed the 36900th part of a chariot that existed some zillion years ago? The Mongol Invasion exhibit was another half-hour in the queue. After sweeping every nook and corner of the building for hidden exhibitions, by the time I got out of the museum, it was 10:00. The queues I saw inside were nothing compared to what I saw outside the building. It seemed as if the whole population of Budapest had descended at this place.

The queue at the entrance of the museum snaked around the gardens, and outside I could see more people disembarking from the museum buses that had turned up. It would take a person an hour or two just to gain entry, not counting the queues inside. But these people seemed to be quite enthusiastic about it. One look at the scene convinced me that it would be futile to visit any other museum today.

In front of the main façade, there seemed to be some kind of drama being enacted out. I went closer and understood why those guys were giving away the newspapers. It was a solve-it-yourself murder mystery. It seemed to be the scene from an English country house. A body lay sprawled in blood. A couple of guys dressed as English policemen were hopping around the body. There was even a Sherlock Holmes and a Dr. Watson on the scene. I checked the program guide and found that this would go on until 1:00 pm. I sat down on the steps of the museum for some rest – it was 1 hours since I had started walking. I sat there for almost half an hour, just soaking in the atmosphere. It’s not everyday that you see such enthusiasm to visit museums in the middle of the night. And never in India!

Observation of the Day: Having Ice Tea after a cup of Cappuccino is not a good idea

Pic of the day: Terror has a new address in Budapest – No. 60 Andrassy Road

Friday, June 22, 2007

Budapest Diary - Day 14

The little girl’s gone home. Today morning was Pragati’s flight back to Bangalore. Now I’m on my own for the next three days. I’ll miss her wisecracks and her ‘pearls of wisdom’.

Yesterday’s rain left its after-effects. Or maybe I should mention it as “the day before yesterday”, as it is just past 12 and Saturday has already begun. But let’s not break the chain. It was a gloomy day. Grey clouds still lingered in the morning sky. But the city looked more beautiful – like a maiden who had just come out of the lake after a bath. The waters of the Danube were sparkling like silver. It was overall gloomy in the office too, as most people chose to either bunk or leave early. Peter had left for home after lunch and Frank had to leave shortly after to catch his flight. By 5 O’clock only Gabor and I remained. Soon it was time to say goodbye. As I exited the outer gates of the building for the last time, the office wore a deserted look. Weekend had already started.

I headed for Deak Ferenc Tere, with the intention of exploring Andrassy Street up till Hosok Tere, but I took the diversion and decided to have a look at Kiraly Street first. It was a small and narrow street flanked by huge old buildings on either side. It seemed like a legacy left over from the days of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, since I came across cobblestones at some places. Dominating all the old buildings is the Liszt Ferenc (more popularly known to the world as Franz Liszt) Academy of Music, a massive structure situated in a beautiful little square. Once I crossed this building, the complete appearance of the road changed. It had now become a busy thoroughfare with trams and cars whizzing past. I headed for Andrassy Street.

Andrassy is perhaps one of those so-called “main streets” in Budapest – glamour personified. It runs from Deak Ference Tere at one end to Hosok Tere or Heroes Square at the other. As you proceed down the road, the massive column of Heroes Square dominates the horizon. It could perhaps be compared to the Raj Path or the Champs Elysee. The street is one of the busiest, with cars and buses (mostly city tour coaches) whizzing past. On either side massive old buildings housing shops boasting the latest brands, loom up and huge trees provide a canopy for the walkers. The most common sights on this road would be the yellow boards announcing the metro stations that exist under this street and the ubiquitous presence of the yellow-green telephone booths. Unfortunately Pragati did not set her eyes on this street. Else she would surely have forgotten Vaci ut. The magnificent Opera House interrupts these flashy surroundings. Like our trip on Saturday to this place, it was again closed today. Unlike other monuments, this opens only at 4:00 pm and 5:00 pm. As Obelix would have liked to say, “These guys are crazy!”

A huge octagonal intersection called “The Oktogon” breaks the Andrassy into two. The rest of the street from here to the Heroes Square is a picturesque drive, clattered with museums and embassies. Wide cycle tracks covered by a canopy of trees run on both sides. The first museum that you come across is the dark and grey building of the House of Terror – a place that houses the memories of the dark periods of the world wars and the communist rule. Right opposite is the Liszt Ferenc Museum, a small building that you might give a pass by, if you did not consult your map. There are innumerable other museums that dot this street until you reach the run down and dilapidated Andrassy Palace. From here the cycle tracks become cobbled pathways with benches and people walking their dogs. The grandiose Heroes Square stands at the end of the vast street.

Storm clouds were already gathering in the distance. Gabor had warned me that there was another storm expected today at 8:00. Nevertheless I decided to take a risk. Crossing the road here is a momentous task, as most of the motorists give scan attention to the traffic lights. And being a huge intersection, one has to cross at least three roads to reach the square. This was my third visit to this place, but the first time that I was going spend much time over there. Built in 1896, the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier stands in front, but it is masked by the towering column behind it and the immense statues of the people – from Szent Istvan to Kossuth Lajos - who shaped the formation of the country that we know today as Hungary. Conspicuous by his absence was Attila the Hun. For all his “exploits”, perhaps they don’t consider him a hero.

I still had enough time, so I decided to do a round of the City Park, and proceeded towards the castle, that was build across the small iron bridge. This bridge spans a small artificial channel which is used to construct the grand ice rink in the winter. But today, it was empty. The water is held at bay by a dam-like structure. Just beyond this structure was the restaurant, “Robinson’s” where we had had a 2 hour long lunch last week (later mentioned by Gabor as one of the most expensive in Budapest). “The castle” is not exactly a castle by definition, but was a cardboard model built for the millennium celebrations in 1896, and later restored since it became quite popular with the kids. The beautiful Hungarian Museum of Agriculture is seated next to the walls of this castle. The city park, a huge green expanse filled with shady trees stretches out on all sides of the place. I roamed around for some time and met Vijay and his family – a group of Punjabis who were here on vacation. They were quite amused at the fact that I was here for work. We talked about the beauty of Budapest as we walked back to Heroes Square.

It was almost dark now. A few kids cycled around or skated under the watchful eyes of their parents. As darkness descended, even their numbers were dwindling. Quite a few bag-toting men and women were sitting near the tomb, and I realized as before that they were just waiting like me, to get a photograph of the place once it was lit up. The actual lighting up of the square was not an elaborate spectacle as that of the Chain Bridge, but once it was fully lit, it was indeed a spectacle. I set up my newly bought tripod and camera, and started clicking. Of course I, lying there on the ground and clicking the photos, seemed to amuse some of the photographers around. But one look at the photo and they seemed to be impressed.

The real fun started once it became completely dark. Until now, there were hardly few people on the square. But now, it was a party. Young men and women appeared out of nowhere, on bicycles and skates. Music blared from some small trucks which had suddenly appeared. And then the dance began – on skates and on bicycles. It was a spectacle worth the wait. I sat there for long before realizing that perhaps I cannot walk all the way back to the hotel.

The day was not done yet. The girl in the train was very pretty. But that’s nothing new out here – most of them are. She was wearing a simple long skirt, a pink in color with a pattern of tiny roses. She was sitting opposite to me, had a small but distinguishable smile on her lips and a sparkle in her green eyes. But what made me notice her so much was that her eyes lingered on each and every person sitting on the opposite side – including me. It was clear that she was studying everyone - quite a talent that would be to have. She knew that I had noticed. She gave me a smile before getting off.


Pic of the Day: The Heroes Square, built in 1896 to commemorate the millennium celebrations of the country

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Budapest Diary - Day 13

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Black copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things…


We all have our list of favorite things. Pragati confessed that in all of Budapest, the shopping street - Vaci ut - was her favorite. I am yet to put down one place as my ‘favorite’. But without doubt, “raindrops” are one of my favorite things. And today, it rained like hell!

It was like being back in Bangalore. Not only because of the rains, but also due to the meetings that filled the first half of my day. The rains came out of nowhere. In the afternoon, we went up to the terrace of the building to enjoy a cup of coffee. The view was nothing as spectacular as the panorama that you get of Budapest from Gellert Hill, but it did give us a bird’s eye view of the Graphisoft campus, with a small glimpse of the Danube. “This place looks better than Salarpuria!” exclaimed Pragati.

There is a small museum next to our office – the Aquincum Museum – which houses the ruins of the old Roman settlement of Aquincum. Until today, I never realized that it was so close to our office and missed a golden opportunity to visit the same – of course, from the look of it; I did not see anybody else doing the same. “After all, it’s just a collection of stones” reminded my colleague, Gabor. As for Pragati, her response was as usual: “Are you mad?” Nevertheless, the place looks quaintly romantic.

In the morning, Frank suggested that we go out for drinks and dinner today – a suggestion readily accepted by us. Gabor suggested a place on the shores of the Danube in Aquincum. “It’s just 20 to 30 minutes of walk from here” he claimed. Pragati’s heart sank at the mention of the walk. We left at five o’clock and started walking towards the main road. “Are we seriously going to walk all the way?” questioned Pragati. I just smiled and shrugged my shoulders. “If that is the case, I’ll just head back to the hotel!” she exclaimed. Thankfully, we stopped at the bus stop and Gabor pointed out a name on the list of stops where we had to get down – it was just two stops down the road.

The bus however, seemed to take ages to reach the place – going round and round the place. After getting down, it was another 10 minute walk, making Frank wonder what exactly “20 minutes” meant over here. The beautiful restaurant was modeled on a boathouse. The river flowed by peacefully. There were quite a few boats anchored to the shores here and there. The steel trusses of the long railway bridge visible from the office sparkled in the evening sun. A few cruise ships and barges cut through the waters on their way up the river to new destinations. We were given a table under the sun, and ordered drinks. There was a wide variety of topics to discuss – Hungarian politics, world politics, beer gardens in Germany, driving to Las Vegas, and ironically, my fondness for rains. There were a few clouds in the distance and I remarked about how the sky becomes extremely dark when the monsoon arrives in India. True to my words, the sky darkened up in a few minutes. This was no ordinary shower. It was a thunderstorm.

Soon we had to scurry inside to take shelter from the forceful winds that lashed across the shores of the Danube. Quite a few of the hanging lights were broken. We somehow managed to find a table in the porch, well away from the torrential rain which had, by now, started pouring down. Fortunately, we had managed to finish the dinner by the time it had started. Our next worry was how to get back to the hotel. Frank and Gabor called for a taxi and were promptly informed that it would be there to pick us up in 20 minutes. Frank’s suspicions about the term “20 minutes” in Hungary seemed to be well-founded since it took the taxi driver ages to appear. They dropped us off on Deak Ferenc Ter from where we could get a train to the hotel, but not before I finally managed to get the glimpse of the beautifully lit Nyugati Railway Station. I pointed it out to Pragati. She seemed to be very impressed, for she immediately asked me: “Which hotel is it?”

Streaks of lightning still dominate the sky. As I write this in the hotel, it’s started raining again…

Quote of the Day: Pragati: “When I was young, I wanted to be a graffiti artist”. When I was young, I wanted to be a train driver (they are called “locomotive pilots” as I’ve already mentioned in one of my earlier diaries. But then, as a kid I never knew that)

Pic of the Day: Graffiti – perhaps one day it would be housed in famous museums

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Budapest Diary - Day 12

Pragati’s “10,000 Chinks” are back. Today at breakfast, there was another large posse of Chinese. In fact you find them almost everywhere in the city. Look further, and you will find large groups of them in every other city you visit. I love the way they like to travel.

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.


Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Budapest Diary - Day 11

“Lightning does not strike at the same place twice” I pointed out the Pragati. She just scoffed at it. I was referring to her comment that she expected me to be late for breakfast today also. But as I have always said, traditionally, I am always on time to eat. “Without our traditions our lives would be as shaky as, as... as a fiddler on the roof!”

Well, crossing the road is always a shaky affair for me – be it in Bangalore or be it in Budapest. Over here, we have to wait for the walking signal to turn green before we can cross the road, and Pragati had perfected the practice of crossing the road on a red signal. Today was no different for her, but I was left standing on the wrong side, and there she was, laughing at me from across the road, for running back and waiting for the green signal. Once inside the metro, she confessed that she was going to miss the train rides to the office. I consoled her with the fact that soon we will have our own metro in Bangalore. “Yeah, Bees Saal Baad (In another 20 years)”: she quipped.

We had a lengthy discussion about our trip back, with Pragati insisting that I help her with her baggage, and carry some of her luggage:

“You’ll never have 20 kg to carry” she argued.
I protested that I still have my Hungarian dolls to buy.
“I know you will never buy those” she retorted back (under-estimating someone is very dangerous)
“Fine” I replied “But if I find that I don’t have space in my baggage, I might leave it behind”
She looked shocked
“Don’t worry," I said "I’ll put an entry in the Labs India Bulletin Board - if anybody is traveling to Budapest and staying in Hotel Ibis Aero Room 308, please pick up some luggage I have left behind”

You can guess what her response would have been.

In the evening, we decided to go on a cruise on the Danube. On the way, we ran into an old gentleman, who seemed to be excited to meet us.

Him: “Excuse me, you’re from India?”
Us: “Yes”
Him: “Where in India?”
Us: “Bangalore”
Him: “Where is that? Madhya Pradesh” (Huh??)
Us: “No. In South India”
Him: “Ah! Maharashtra?” (!!!)
Us: “No. Karnataka”
Him: Said a lot about Kerala, Tamil Nadu, Hindus, Dravidian Languages and a lot of things, but nothing about Bangalore, and finally wished us “Namaste”. And I thought Bangalore was the new face of India.

The cruise boat was on Pier 8, in front of the Marriott Hotel. “Should be just around the corner” said Pragati, and we started walking. Needless to say, by the time we reached Pier 8, she was exhausted from walking. The cruise was only for an hour, with the lady guide explaining the history of the buildings and the bridges. I remember that she talked something about Margaret (after whom the Island and the Bridge were named), a lot about the medicinal baths in Budapest, the history of the liberty statue, the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and how, sadly, most of the families in Hungary cannot afford paid education. It was informative but I just wish her English was more legible…

On the banks of the river were tied various kinds of boats and cruise ships. There was even one which was modeled on a Mississippi steamboat. Some of these ships even act as hotels with their own restaurants and casinos. We could have stayed in one of these, we wondered. Maybe next time ;)

Pic of the day: If only time stood still...


Monday, June 18, 2007

Budapest Diary - Day 10

Early to bed and early to rise…that proverb still haunts me. Today, I got up on time, but took forever to get ready. By the time I got down for breakfast, Pragati had finished hers and was glaring at me from the reception.

At lunchtime we discovered that the Deak Ferenc Tere Metro Station has umpteen exits (rather than ‘one’) and we were waiting at the wrong one for Thomas on Saturday. Lunch was not exactly a pleasant experience for Pragati, since she took a complete dislike to all the food items served. For the Hungarians, there’s only one item that goes by the name of “spice” – Paprika (what we call as “laal mirch”). They swear by its name whenever we mention “spicy food”. Well, at least it is better than Germany where “spice” is not part of their vocabulary. Pragati already has a disagreement with the revolving door over here, which never responds to her access card. Today was no different, as she stood there, waiting for the door to move. I watched amusingly from the other side, wondering why she could not see the open door next to the revolving door.

Pragati also made the great discovery that the office shuttle here was air-conditioned, and started questioning as to why we do not have air-conditioned shuttles in Bangalore. I pointed out that not only the shuttles, but also most of the buses manufactured in India were not air-conditioned. The Europeans meanwhile, do not have a choice – all the buses manufactured here are equipped with air-conditioning and they have to put up with it. The bus journey seemed to bring the best out of her as she made one important observation after another:

1. Bryan Adams has made Bangalore his home. He keeps coming back every year
2. It would be nice if the whole of SAP Labs India was shifted to Budapest (comparisons can be made to a similar statement made by Mrs. Shanthi Srikanth, a couple of years back in Germany)
3. My car looks like a bicycle when compared to all the cars over here

I finally got to buy the mini-tripod that I was looking for during the weekend. Thankfully the shops did not close off early today. Pragati had, in the meantime, stated that after all she had to buy that Pierre Cardin watch. We had a short discussion on the street to decide whether we should have a look at the old railway station building – an argument which Pragati won hands down.

I wonder what they feed the escalators over here. Every new one I come across seems to be longer than the previous one.

Observation of the day: Today, nobody asked Pragati for her passport.

Sunday, June 17, 2007

Budapest Diary - Day 8 and Day 9

The West End City Centre seems to be pretty famous. You can see its advertisements in all the Metro stations. According to Wikipedia it was, until recently, the largest shopping mall in Central and Eastern Europe. I do not know what they define as “Central and Eastern Europe”, but nevertheless, it should be of quite a big size. So we decided to make our shopping trip to the West End City Centre. The mall is situated next to the Nyugati Palyaudvar – the Western Railway Station. It is an imposing structure built in the old architectural style (as is every other building over here). I pointed it out to Pragati and remarked at its beauty, to which she replied: “It’s rotting” and headed towards the shopping centre.

As usual, I ended up buying a zillion kilo chocolates. Pragati in the meantime, had picked up two bottles of liquor. When her turn came, the lady at the counter asked for her passport, and said something illegible. We stood there looking at each other bewildered. Thankfully, the pretty girl standing behind me in the queue came to our help:

Pretty Girl: “How old are you?”
Pragati: “xyz” (where xyz > 18. Am not sure whether I have the authority to mention her age here)
Pretty Girl: “They don’t sell alcohol if you are under-18”

There were three different expressions:

1. The lady at the counter looked shocked at hearing her age
2. I looked amused at the whole incident
3. Pragati had turned pink

“I can’t believe she actually thought I looked under-18!” she would later remark.

Words fail me…

There was another Douglas Store here, and Pragati had no intention to miss it. There we bumped into one of the store assistants who had helped us out at the store in Vaci ut on Friday. He was quite delighted to see us. And it was here that Pragati had her biggest adventure so far in Budapest – she forgot her wallet, with all the money, and all her cards. Thankfully she realized the same before boarding the train, and we rushed back to the store to claim it back.

Unfortunately, by the time we reached the camera store to buy a mini-tripod for my camera, they had closed. So we decided to shop for souvenirs, and headed for the Szt. Istevan Square. As expected, there were only a few shops open, and the remaining stores were downright expensive. I ended up buying a small bag from an exquisitely laid out shop. Balazs, the gentleman at the counter was delighted to know that we were from India, and professed that he was a big fan of Indian movies – he claimed to have the DVDs of “Haathi Mera Saathi” and “Love in Tokyo”, gifted to him by his Indian friend.

Budapest is a city of parks and gardens – like Bangalore, where we have Lal Bagh and all that. Somehow Pragati does not agree – not with the Budapest’s parks, but with Bangalore’s gardens. The classic Erszebeth tere with its huge fountain and the adjoining modern Deak Ferenc Tere is one such park where the youngsters gather to spend the evening. It seems like a structure that was created as part of some contest, since one can see a plaque proclaiming “Second Prize”. The place has a huge rectangular pool where you can just dip your feet into and relax. We were there to meet up with a colleague of ours for dinner at Salaam Bombay. Unfortunately, he never turned up.

For the naked eye, the imposing structure of the Museum of Fine Arts is perhaps dwarfed by the huge columns of Hosok Tere, or The Heroes Square. But once inside, you are completely transported to another world – the world of history and art. I spent more than half a day in the company of great artists like Claude Monet, Paul Gauguin and Eduard Manet. Pragati was quite impressed by the prices at Museum Shop. There’s going to be some change of plans for the next weekend. The Museum is situated in the corner of one of the biggest parks in Budapest – the City Park. Situated close to the museum is another imposing structure – the Szechernyi Gyorgifuerdo – the open air medicinal bath.

By the time it was evening, the Danube beckoned once more, and I spent the time till dusk, walking along the banks under the imposing Parliament building, and exploring the second oldest bridge on the Danube – the Margit Hid (the Margaret Bridge). There’s an Elizabeth and a Margaret. I wonder whether the bridges are related.

Pic of the day:

Shoes on the Danube – a memorial to the people who fell victim to the Arrow Cross militiamen in Budapest. It depicts their shoes left behind on the bank when they fell into the river after having been shot during World War II.

Friday, June 15, 2007

Budapest Diary - Day 7

Cricket in Hungary? You must be joking! So naturally I was surprised when I saw Sachin Tendulkar’s picture in one of the Hungarian newspapers, with an article on “Krikket” and “India”. Over here the biggest sportsperson is the lovely Judit Polgar – the chess gramndmaster, but ironically, as the lady on the bus remarked, “Football is our national game. We were a very good team once, and now we are not”. The Magic Magyars are alas no more. They are yet to find another Ferenc Puskas or Sandor Kocsis.

Today was shopping day for Pragati, and I tagged along. It was back to one of my favourite locations in the city – Vorosmarty Square. Vaci ut (which Gabor had described as “a street set up specifically to loot tourists) beckoned ahead. Pragati had decided that today she would attack each store on Vaci ut, one by one. And no sooner had she reached the place than she darted into the first one. By the time she’d come out of the fourth or fifth shop, she’d not bought anything.

As for me, it was an education in fashion – something that I could perhaps use while “rutting for quizzes” in Herr-Vinai-Schenoi parlance. It was the first time I had seen the inside of a Marks and Spencers store. Until now “the ignorant me” had thought they sold glasses (aka ‘Lawrence & Mayo’, ‘Bausch & Lomb’ etc). My understanding was that “Zara” was the surname of a Shah Rukh Khan Movie. And “Mac”? I’d always eaten them – never knew that they were cosmetics. One look at the prices and I decided that everything in these stores look better as exhibits and not as sale items. Pragati also (self-confession) seems to have changed her shopping habits, since she was looking at the price tags. There was that small matter of buying a pair of jeans at the Zara store, where she could not find a pair that had the brand of Zara in it. My silly suggestion that she stick the bill from the store on the jeans to announce that it had indeed been bought there was met with the usual response: “Are you mad?”

I liked the “Douglas” store though, since this was the first time I was seeing so many products of the so called famous names of fashion – Yves Saint Laurent, Christian Dior, Estee Lauder etc. – at close quarters. The store was set up on the ground floor of a building with beautifully colored tiles on the roof and the walls. But if there was one particular shop that interested me most, it was the one next door to this. On the display window was one of the eeriest “product” exhibitions I’ve ever seen. The scene was that of an enchanted forest. Roots and branches filled the window, as if barely a ray of light would penetrate the forest. An old wizard with a crooked nose was waving his lantern from one side to the other. A cat slept on one of the tree branches. A couple of elves flapped their wings. It seemed to have come right out of Diagon Alley.

We decided to have dinner from one of the cafes set up on the street sides, and headed back to Vorosmarty Square. The place was now extremely crowded, thanks to a superb song and dance performance being enacted out by a band. We found a table under the canopies of the Gerbeaud Haz, right in front of the performing artists. Pragati was completely enamored by their dance performance. The square was now completely filled with families. Kids were freely running helter-skelter, with more than one kid licking on ice creams (Pragati included). We just sat there for almost an hour enjoying the whole performance.

After dinner (or what amounted to it), I took her to the river side, to show her what she missed yesterday – the lit up bridge. And her response: “There can’t be anything better than this”. As for me, this is my fifth trip to the bridge during the last one week, and I can’t seem to get over it.

Observation of the Day:

The Hungarian people are really beautiful. According to an unnamed source, “5% of Indians are good-looking and 5% of Hungarians are not good-looking”.

Pic of the Day: Life is always beautiful when you have no worries

Thursday, June 14, 2007

Budapest Diary - Day 6

There are only two Indian actresses who are recognized out here – one of them is Aishwarya Rai, whose photo you’ll see in any shop that sells L’Oreal (er…yes, I’ve gone into such shops) and…Shilpa Shetty! I woke up quite late today. Without bothering to rise from the bed I switched on the TV, and almost fell off the bed. Here was Shilpa Shetty on DW (that’s German) TV, in a full-fledged interview, harping all about her self-respect and all that we’ve heard umpteen times before. I wonder why she never had the self-respect to walk off that show in the first place!

There’s nothing much to talk about office, though the guys over here seem to have a quirky sense of humor. In the meeting room, someone had given ample display of his/her talent for drawing with pictures of a cat begging for food and highlighting the similarities between Berndt – whoever he was – and a sparrow. I failed to see the similarity though since Berndt – whoever he was – had a pair of spectacles and beard, neither of which the sparrow had. I try to be serious and somehow succeed. I fell asleep for a short time in the afternoon in what was a drowsy day. In addition to reading specification documents, I also spent a lot of time reading on the Ku Klux Klan (no! that doesn’t amount to Ego Surfing!).

My learning curve seems to be going up. Frank had asked us to confirm with the bus driver as to whether he would stop at the HEV railway station. For the past three days, he had indeed, and hence today we took it for granted that he would stop today too. To our utter surprise, he sped past the station, and finally stopped after the Arpad Bridge a full ten minutes later. To our delight we found out that this route took almost 20 minutes off our travel time. Tomorrow might be a day for experiments.

After dropping Pragati off at the hotel, I decided to head back into the city, with the idea of exploring the Elizabeth Bridge. I had somehow made up my mind that I had to get down at Kalvin Tere, without even consulting a map. It was only after I alighted from the metro that I found that I had got off a station too sooner. Ahead of me lay the dark green Liberty Bridge. But as fate would have it, the road leading to the bridge was blocked. I had to take a round-about way to reach it, during the course of which I almost managed to lose the direction and run over by a tram.

It was once again an evening to enjoy. Storm clouds were gathering and the sun was playing hide and seek and cast its golden glow all around. The Royal Palace was once again, a sight to behold, silhouetted against the evening light. The Szabadság híd or the Liberty Bridge is the third oldest bridge in Budapest, being built in 1896 (the chain bridge being the oldest, built in 1849), and is painted in a dull green color. Gellert Hill - which houses the Liberty Statue and the citadel - towers over the bridge on the Buda side, where as numerous piers dot the Pest side. I crossed over to the Buda side and as usual, walked along the river side to the Elizabeth Bridge. It was the first time I was walking across a suspension bridge. I had missed the golden opportunity (pun unintended) to walk across the Golden Gate Bridge last year, and the KR Puram Hanging Bridge does not exactly qualify as a suspension bridge in my standards. The bridge quivered uneasily each time a huge bus or truck passed by.

To my dismay, I found that my camera was running out of battery. Not surprising since I hadn’t charged it even since I had arrived here. So I decided to shut it down and conserve the battery for the big shot of the day (I would still go on and click 20-odd photos). Roosevelt square was as usual busy with crisscrossing cars and tram. One guy was so enamored by the sight of the trams that he was chasing every one of them for taking photographs – even walking into the tunnel under Roosevelt Square to click them. The place was thronged by tourists, and one look at the crowd confirmed the obvious – that they were all waiting for the same thing as I was – the lighting up of the Chain Bridge.

I sat there on the river side for an hour and a half – listening to the band playing classical music – for the magic to begin. And I was not disappointed. At Nine O’clock, the lights along the roadway blinked on (immediately followed by a long ‘ooh’ from the three girls who were sitting on the edge of the pier). A minute later, the lights adorning the cables came on, and a further minute later, the huge towers were lit up. In the meantime, the lights in the palace were slowly brightening up. A few minutes later, with the lights fully functioning the whole structure was lit up like in a fairy tale. It was another half an hour before I left the place – trying desperately to find a perch to keep my camera for shooting the spectacle. I succeeded only partially.

Pic of the Day: Once upon a time, there was a bridge...



Observation of the day:

Pragati had a look at all the applications installed in my laptop and exclaimed: “Yeh kya? Apne laptop ko Brigade Road banake rakha hai!” (You’ve converted your laptop into Brigade Road)