Two tales in one city

It's been widely accepted that Bombay is still safe for women, whereas Delhi is labelled the rape capital of the country.  In all fairness, I don't think any city in India is completely safe for women and Bombay is not what it used to be in the 1980s.

I want to recall 2 recent incidents in this city, which show the dichotomy of life here.

Incident 1:- Juhu Beach 7:00 pm 

It's a "winter" evening in Bombay and rally dark at this hour. I am on an evening jog on the beach heading towards the Godrej bungalow from the Sea Princess. As I cross the crowded section and pass by the food stalls, life seems to be normal.  A few minutes later, I am easing past the Marriott and I start hearing someone screaming "Allah Rakha."  The man then utters the worst profanities in Urdu and continues screaming "Allah Rakha". I reach the lonely stretch before the Godrej Bungalow and I can still hear the screaming.

A girl who I presume is in her 20s is jogging in the opposite direction. I warn her of the psycho screaming in the distance. She laughs it off and says that she has pepper spray and a knife! The pepper spray is for use where someone can see her and the knife is for use in a dark area!! "If someone tries to grope or molest me in a dark stretch, I'll calmly stab him and jog away," she said. "No one will ever be able to find out it was from me...it's so dark"

Incident 2:- Near Haji Ali 8:00 pm

With much difficulty, I manage to get a taxi on a busy evening. Just as I am about to enter, a young woman in office clothes, comes running and says, "I am sharing the cab with you to Bombay Central." I don't object and let her in. She says it was impossible for her to get a cab.

I tell her that something like this is dangerous these days. "I could be a psycho or a serial killer...you never know." She laughs at my face and responds that if I am a serial killer, she is Mother Teresa!

She insists on splitting the cab fare and then vanishes into the crowd.  Needless to say that something like this is unimaginable in any other city in India.

A line through the Land of the 5 Rivers

A blood-red moon was visible on a late-autumn night in the holy Sikh city of Amritsar. This moon was symbolic of everything the land of great philosophers such as Guru Nanak and Baba Waris went through 65 years ago when a line divided this land of big strong men and beautiful women on the basis of religion.

Amritsar is not as dirty as many people believe. It is a city with a very distinct character and a very friendly local populace. There is still so much of small-town India here and the warmth that comes with the real Indian soul.

It's nice to see so many Sikhs in colourful turbans. I feel for the wonderful Sikh community, which has a large number of its holy sites in what is now Pakistan. As I watched a tractor on the Pakistani side of the River Ravi and the electric fence on the Indian side of the border at Dera Baba Nanak in the Gurdaspur District, I couldn't help feel for the pilgrims who could see the Kartarpur Gurudwara, which was 3 kilometres away but now in another country.

As the Sikhs at the viewpoint fretted the impossibility of just walking across those lush green fields to pay obeisance, an eagle flew over the border into India, spent 10 seconds here and flew back. It felt like the bird was mocking the Radcliffe line that divides the proud and beautiful Punjabi race. 

A swan song to Florence

I guess being a transit point in the summer, I took you, beautiful Florence, for granted. Throughout the summer, you were nothing but a place I needed to use to get to Naples, Bologna, Zurich or Rome. I'd glance at the Ponte Vecchio and the Duomo as my bus from Siena moved towards the Santa Maria Novella Station.

Tired after long journeys, all I would want is to take the first train back 'home' to Siena. Then came the day I had to leave Siena and a wonderful summer behind. The heavens opened out in a Bombay Monsoon-type downpour, in what looked like a last futile attempt to keep me in the city. Perhaps the rush with which I left my Tuscan home, kept my mind off the fact that I was leaving a place so dear to me.

When my last train from Siena arrived at the Santa Maria Novella station, there was a strange kind of homecoming. It was my last day in the beautiful country and what better to soak it all in than the city of Dante! As I walked through the old city and climbed all the way to the top of the Duomo, I felt a sense of calm and of being at home. The last wonderful gellatos that I ate, the last conversations with strangers in Italian and the last evening run I had in Italy were all in Florence.

As I walked past the Ponte Vecchio and some of the other bridges during the Fiorentine twilight, all I could feel was grattitude for a country that made me feel at home. My last Tuscan meal was a fitting end to the wonderful month in the beautiful province and the icing on the cake were my last few hours in Firenze! The openness and warmth of the great Tuscan capital is something that I will always cherish..

Mille Grazie Toscana! Ti Amo!! Sempre.

Sintra: Where Spirits Roam

Perched high above the capital city of Lisbon, Sintra is a charming town that feels more like a northern European town than something you'd expect to find in "warm and sunny" Portugal. The town is full of turn of the 19th to 20th century mansions, each of which has a chequered history. If those walls could talk, a lot of shocking stories would come out.

The compound of the main palace in Sintra is definitely a roaming ground of spirits. They say that Sintra is an entry point to another dimension the same way Mt Kailash and Lake Mansarovar are in Tibet. I couldn't help but feel the wild mood swings as we walked around the area. The statues in the compound are creepy and so are the wells, where you can climb down.

Many strange incidents have taken place in Sintra and there are many legends. There was one particular house, inhabited by evil witches and the energy from that house was strong.

After a gourmet Portuguese lunch, we were up in the magnificent garden of the Pena Palace. I felt like I was in a Brother's Grimm fairly tale. I could feel the aura of peasants and princes, carriages and witches. Such a fairy tale land did exist at one time and this garden gives one the feel.

From the highest point in the garden, you can see Lisbon and the blue Atlantic Ocean. I can't help but think that the elements can drag people away with ease by just fine tuning the frequency of the wind.

The dead of Sintra wake up at night when the Pena Palace is the only building that is illuminated. I honestly feel sorry for the security guards who have night duty there. The mind can play the most terrible of tricks and it's hard to know whether the images that flash before your eyes with a stroke of lightning are real or figments of one's imagination.

It was a beautiful moonlit night at a fortress in Sintra. Below me was the city of Lisbon and within view the westernmost point in continental Europe. Such a spectacular sight to cap off what was one of the most amazing trips of my life.

I love Portugal!

Weekend in Portugal-3: Finally in Lisboa

It took very little time for this beautiful city to win me over. We started off the day in Belem, which has the Hieronymites Monastery, where the great Vasco Da Gama is buried. The church, like most in Europe, is more a tourist attraction than a place of worship.. Nearby is the Fort of Belem. It was from here that the brave voyagers and adventurers set sail to conquer the world and change the course of world history.

Da Gama set sail from here to Kerala, where I trace my roots. Say what you want about the Portuguese colonisation of some parts of India, I think they did a good job and enriched Indian culture. They gave us even more diversity and created a beautiful composite culture of the Indian Catholics, many of whom live in Bombay. Bandra is a result of Portuguese colonisation of India.

We drove to the beautiful city centre of Lisboa as the Portuguese call their capital. There are definitely many similarities between the capital of this great nation and San Francisco. Both cities are hilly and have a nice tram system (although in San Fran, they are wrongly referred to as cable cars). One of the to-do things in Lisbon is to hang off a tram for a free ride. It's important to get off at a red light and climb back on when the signal changes.

There is so much history in the city. So many buildings are worthy of being photographed. I can't help but note the calm in the capital city. Lunch was at a pastaleria, again a very genuine Portuguese experience. A beef-stake sandwich with Super Bock!

As we walked up and down the hills of the beautiful city, I soaked in on the history and culture of Portugal. I became a fan of the legendary Portuguese singer Amalia Rodrigues. This was August in Lisbon, a summer say when temperatures were about 15 degrees cooler than they were in Siena. Lisbon has the most ideal climate in the world. Heck, if I lived there, I would be in the best shape of my life.

As the afternoon wore on, we had some sweets and walked through more historical areas. We also went to the church, where the Lisbon Massacre of 1506 took place. That was Portugal's worst anti-Jewish progrom and there is a memorial outside the church that calls for tolerance. Lisbon now is proudly the city of tolerance. The church still has a very negative vibe.


The day in Lisbon was capped off with baby sardines and a Super Bock in a very traditional Portuguese tavern.

I also got my first glimpse of the gorgeous town of Sintra.

Weekend in Portugal- 2: Expectations and Reality

Being almost completely ignorant about Portugal, I kind of expected to see a bit of Spain, a touch of Brazil and Goa in the country. I expected to see a bunch of very loud people, with a great sense of national pride. After all, their country ruled much of the world in the past.

The reality kind of hit me hard. The Portuguese are a warm and friendly lot. The service culture is wonderful. The smile is very genuine. But the country is quiet... very quiet. Maybe going from loud Italy to quiet Portugal gave me a bit of a cultural shock.

Lisbon and the surrounding areas were more beautiful than I could have ever imagined them to be.  The first port of call was the municipality of Cascais. Full of red-tiled roofs and antiquated avenues with beautiful homes and a marina, this is one of the most beautiful places I saw in all my travels in the European summer.

There was such a purity in the azure blue waters and a gentle Atlantic Ocean breeze put me at ease. Again, I was struck by the whole quasi-silence of the area. This is where the wealthy of the country had palatial homes. I didn't exactly stand out as a foreigner in this country, where I was more or less the average height and my skin and hair colour didn't put me aside. The Portuguese genuinely love when you make an attempt to speak their language.

My wonderful hosts cooked a feast and I enjoyed a wonderful dinner in my first night in Lisbon. There was a lot to see and taste in the next two days.

Weekend in Portugal-1

When it comes to sheer exoticism, few places can captivate the Indian mind as much as Portugal. The westernmost country in continental Europe had a huge impact on Indian history ruling certain parts of India for centuries, but we know so little about Portugal and the Portuguese.

I couldn't contain my excitement when I took a TAP Portugal Airlines flight from Bologna to Lisbon. The aircraft had a fair share of Portuguese people, who were friendly and wanted to know if was Goan. The low-flying plane flew over the coast of Italy and then crossed France and a completely barren Spain before reaching the beautiful country of Portugal.

While landing in Lisbon, it's impossible not to miss the city's beautiful suspension bridge that looks very similar to the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. As I was to discover over the next 3 days, there were many similarities between the Californian city and the capital of Portugal.

Sunday Morning in Zurich

It was a perfect Sunday morning when the city's fountains quenched our thirst and we sat at a nice cafe in the Old Town overlooking the river and the Gross Munster. Zurich had been kind to us. I sat with my wise vegan Polish friend, who after spending a few years in Italy, reminded me that the best part of Italy besides the people were the great pizzas, wine and gelatos.

Thank you Paani! You are an inspiration!

Images from Zurich

You can some classics from Zurich here

"The epicentre of financial evil"

I admit, I expected to see incredibly large head-offices of Swiss banks in Zurich. I was actually shocked to see some rather modest buildings hosting the nerve-centres of the largest Swiss banks! The world's wealth is obviously in electronic format and could be easily hidden away in small buildings (note the irony here)

I was also surprised with the laid-back nature of Zurich. I know I was there on a weekend so that explains the lack of suits but the citizens of the city aren't so much into dressing rich and showing off. There is a modesty about Zurichers (I am not sure that's the proper term)

Lake Zurich on a summer afternoon is like Malibu Beach. I never thought I'd see Swiss people sun-bathing, not in Switzerland anyway. I thought they all go to Italy :)

The Beautiful Swiss Miss

It was a rainy Sunday morning in Zurich and most residents of the city chose to stay indoors. As we were walking uphill past a university, I saw a beautiful girl walking  downhill. Umbrella in hand, she walked gracefully down the hill and when she made eye contact with my friend and I, she smiled at both of us and we crossed paths.

This 'Swiss Miss' for me represented the wonderful country that hosted me for a weekend. Beautiful, pleasant and friendly. It is quite normal to smile at strangers in this cultured city.

Bratwurst, illuminated buildings and a shower

Friday nights are party time in Zurich and the old town is a great place to grab a drink. Since I loved the sausages in Vienna in March, I made sure I got my fair share of bratwurst in Zurich. I didn't see a big difference between the young people in Vienna and Zurich. The youth of Zurich spoke High German and not the Swiss version and partied much like their counterparts in the Austrian capital.

The wonderful churches of the old town are illuminated at night and the riverside is a romantic place to spend a summer night. I managed to get a great view from a hill on the other side of the river the next night but was too drenched by a sudden downpour to enjoy it as much as I would have otherwise.

But walking completely drenched on a cool night for almost half an hour and up a steep hill to my friend's house, was a wonderful experience I won't forget. I was tired then and worried about passport getting wet but now I look back at that as fabulous night.

Red Lights in Zurich?

As I walked through the old town to find my hotel, I crossed the Niederdorf Street, one of the most beautiful streets in the area. I was taken aback as I walked in to the lane (where my unnamed hotel was). The prostitutes were armed with a list of languages, when Hindi failed, they assumed I am Brazilian and so switched to Portuguese and then tried English and German! Surely, such polyglots could find a better job in one of the world's richest countries!

Most people, myself included, ignored these women, but there was an Italian casanova who was enamoured by the fact that a woman wanted "amore" with him. Surely, the man in his late-40s understood that they were prostitutes!

From what I heard during my stay in Zurich, none of the polyglot prostitutes are Swiss. They're allegedly all from Eastern Europe and Albania.

Zurich-bound

When I took a Swiss Air flight from Florence to Zurich, the 'James Bond' Music was playing in my head. I was heading off to the city of spies and black money. This is where the illegitimately rich stashed away their fortunes. Switzerland long ago stopped being the country of chocolates and Heidi for me. If the country represented anything for me, it was the great Roger Federer.

As the plane flew over the Alps, a niggling thought went through my mind...Was the country in the Schengen zone? It was after all, NOT a member of the European Union. There were no controls in Florence so I figured I should be alright or in the worst-case get deported back to Italy. There were, of course, no checks in Zurich and something about the city immediately appealed to me.

My Austrian friends warned about the "mean Swiss" but once again, people were super nice to me when I asked for directions in German. Friday evening was peaceful in the city. As I crossed the bridge into the right side of the river, I saw the beautiful churches of the old town or altstadt: St Peter's and the Fraumunster.

I could breathe the pristine Swiss air in Zurich.

My Tuscan Home

As I warmed up my body and headed up Via Trento, the fountain by Siena's Fort got closer and closer and I was ready for my evening run on top of the Fortress, where Siena's fitness-conscious citizens run every day. A gentle breeze from the distant purple mountains and the warmth of the Tuscan sun powered me as I took a round of the Fort.

As I saw the Piazza del Campo and the Duomo and heard some popular music from a nearby gathering, I realised that I was in love. In love with the pretty and charming town of Siena. A culturally-rich place with centuries of history and beautiful medieval buildings. A hilly town with gelaterias in every corner...

How else could I start with day, besides reading the Corriere Della Sera with a cornetto, cappuccino and a glass of orange juice? With conversations on all sorts of topics with the same patrons who were at the bar every single morning at the same time?

The fresh morning under a splendid blue Tuscan sky. My beloved Siena, you have won me over! I belong to you and proudly call you my home in Italy.

The Real Palermo

Palermo is an Italian metropolis and is actually quite a large city. Most visitors get a glimpse of the historic centre and the town of Monreale but see little of the city's "real life."

I decided to wander past the famous attractions and spent a Saturday on the promenade near the port.  I could compare this place to Bombay's Marine Drive, as there are a lot of smiliarities. You can see a cross section of Palermo society on this promenade. Couples, families, groups of young people and of course joggers!

The big difference between Marine Drive and the Palermo promenade is the fact that the latter faces the east, so no beautiful sunset by the sea.

The entire area around the port reverberates with energy. I also enjoyed watching future football stars in action and had a Spaghetti ai Ricci (With sea urchins) at a roadside restaurant. 4 days later, I didn't get poisoned and so I can say that was a good experience. The people running the place were yelling at each other in a Palermo dialect. They sure did remind me of Sicilian Americans near the South Street Seaport in New York.

Monreale: Glimpses of the Real Sicily

Move away from the beautiful Duomo in Monreale, a hill town above Palermo, and walk up the narrow and winding alleys. This is where you will see the Sicily of movies. A Sicily where people talk louldy, outside the church after mass or around a market. The town of Monreale has its share of real shops, and by that I mean family run stores.

There is so much charisma to this pretty town, which is just 20 minutes away from Palermo but has its own dialect. There's no doubt that mosaics of the Duomo and the Arab-Norman architecture is stunning and unique but the prized attractions of the town are the smaller and historic churches that are functional and used by normal Sicilians.

I walked into one such church, where a Sicilian beauty told me about the church and the people of Monreale. She laughed at my stupid ideas of her island. "No, my father and brothers won't kill you for engaging in a conversation with me, or for even calling me beautiful....Sicily really isn't like that anymore," she said.

The smell of fish in the markets, the colours of the fruits and the delicious desserts of the island; these were all things I saw, smelt and tasted in the pretty town of Monreale.

Sicily's Indians

On my first day in Palermo, I was surprised to see a sari shop. Sicilians don't exactly walk around wearing the traditional Indian dress. Then there were the curry houses and people with Indian features. (I was told the flower sellers were Tunisians and not from South Asia). As I walked past an Indian shop, the owner stepped out and asked if I was Indian.

He went on to tell me about how he came from Punjab illegally but has been in Palermo for 13 years with a legal status, where he pays a lot of taxes! "They don't give Italian visas in Delhi," he said. When I reminded him that illegal immigrants were the reason behind tough visa rules, he hit back saying that "you Bombayites have the money from birth and can do whatever you please but object when the rural poor want a better life"

I honestly loathe human smuggling and the barely educated people who illegally immigrate to the West or any developed country for that matter. Such people are the bane of the decent hard-working and educated Indian. But Sicily doesn't seem to mind these Indians. Many young people in Palermo relish Indian food at these curry houses and also appreciate the hard-working Indians who run cyber cafes and phone centres late into the night.

One Sicilian even told me that South Asian migrants were a boon to Palermo and helped the economy. This man did not have kind words for what he calls thousands of clandestine Americans living and working in Rome as tourist guides, illegally. "Don't they need visas? Does anyone even care." he said.

See this link for an analysis on immigration in Sicily.

http://www.bestofsicily.com/mag/art181.htm

I have to add that many people in Palermo assumed that I was an immigrant especially since I speak Italian. So, when I went to the more expensive places dressed well and with my DSLR camera, there were stares. A well to do, well-dressed dark man.. hmmm.. That is a rare phenomenon in Sicily.

Staying safe in Palermo at night

The Sant'Elia is located close to the Quatro Canti on Via Maqueda in Palermo. It is indeed a great place to watch a concert but then arises the problem of walking home late night in this beautiful city. Guidebooks advise people to either avoid being out at night or walking in a large group. Since the venue was jam-packed, I assumed that many people would walk towards the Politeama Opera Theatre with me, but as I stepped out, I saw a large crowd walking the other way.

I didn't feel unsafe, but after hearing all the stories, I decided to walk fast and be aware of my surroundings. All the Indian-operated cyber cafes and the curry houses were open. So, I guess if I had trouble and the "kick and run" policy didn't work, all I needed to do was get into a currry house and scream bachao (help in Hindi).

Of course, the evening wasn't that exciting, the streets were full of South Asians and a few Sicilians with punk-styled hair cuts. There was also a smattering of French tourists taking pics of the city at night. I had about 10 Euros in my pocket and if a mugger wanted it, he could have it. As I walked back to the hotel, I felt more and more at ease.

Palermo was beautiful, peaceful and kind to me on this gorgeous night. 

August Summer Night in Palermo

I am fortunate enough to be in this wonderful city at the time of the International Palermo Classical Music Festival. There are concerts almost every single evening and musicians perform the works of Beethoven, Rachmaninov, Brahms and Tchaikovsky.

Using my student identity card from Siena, I was privileged to watch a concert of the Mediterranea Chamber Orchestra for just 7 Euros. This concert, held yesterday, was a tribute to Brahms. I thoroughly enjoyed it, but it didn't compare to what lay in store for me this evening at the beautiful Palazzo Sant'Elia. The lovely building played host to a free concert of a quartet that played everything from Jazz to Classical music.

The building was jam-packed by what seemed like the entire intelligentsia of Palermo. It was a warm August night in the city and despite the heat, the large crowd that turned up for the open air concert in the foyer of the building loved every second of the concert. I particularly appreciated the renditions of Gershwin's compositions.

I have seen a concert at Vienna's Musikverein and an opera at the Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow this year and I can safely say that neither of those experiences compared to this magical evening in Palermo. Classical music was made for Italy and like the wonderful concert I witnessed at the San Agostino Church in Siena 2 weeks ago, this concert set my soul on fire.

There I was in that wonderful venue, listening to "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and looking up at a star-filled Sicilian night. All I could feel was gratitude for being there this wonderful summer night. Thank You Palermo, Thank You Sicily, Thank You Italy and most of all, Thank You Professore.

On that August night in 2010, when I sent you an email at 11 pm to enquire about the Italian course, I had no clue that you would respond to me in 5 minutes and I had no clue that the course would make my life so much more fulfilling and happy. Less than 2 years later, I am in Palermo listening to one of the best renditions of classical and jazz music and interacting with some of the best people in all of Sicily.

Palermo: Uniqueness Unlimited

I didn't know what to expect from the capital of Sicily. Most outsiders know Sicily for one reason and that is the Cosa Nostra, the dreaded mafia. They really managed to make life hell in this beautiful island but thankfully they have been crushed.

Palermo is like no other city in the world. It has a mix of Norman and Arabic architecture with influences from many other parts of Southern Europe and Northern Africa. I love the Quatro Canti, an area with 4 fountains and beautiful churches.

It's hard not to be awestruck by the city's magnificient Arabo-Norman Cathedral, the wonderful churches with the most beautiful interiors and the Palazzo Reale, with its own Palatin Chapel and the Sicilian Parliament.

Palermo is a wonderful city for pedestrians and it's a pleasure to walk around during the day. I wouldn't like to take late-evening strolls here, though. This evening, I am off to the wonderful Paliteamo Theatre for a classical music concert.

Mount Vesuvius and Naples

This photo was taken from the resort town of Sorrento, where I spent a wonderful couple of days.

Beautiful Capri

Home to the rich and famous of Italy such as Giorgio Armani and Sophia Loren, this small island is one of the most beautiful in all of Europe. There is absolutely no sign of the so-called financial crisis in Capri, where as the Italians say, "you eat for 1 person and pay for 10."

I took the famous Azurro Grotto cruise only to find that I could not enter the Blue Cave because of the waves, but the cruise on the azure blue and crystal clear Gulf of Naples was a highlight of my time here in Italy. The limestone island has many places from where you have breathtaking views.

My favourite was the via Krupp, named after the German steel baron Friedrich Alfred Krupp, who commissioned this path by the cliffs that connect the small marina with the Augustus Gardens. The path is absolutely spectacular.

There is something about coastal Italy and the islands that appeal more to me than the areas inland, which I love anyway.

Argument alla Napoli

In Tuscany, there is a certain amount of gentleness among the people, who tend to be a bit reserved. I have seen people bumping into each other in buses and smiling with a brief "excuse me." In Naples, where the people are anything but reserved, it's easy for locals to get into heated arguments.

While taking the famous R2 bus from the central railway station, a teenager bumped into a seated pensioner. The man immediately exploded and told the girl to be more careful. The conversation then changed from Italian into a Neapolitan dialect, of which I understand almost nothing.

The heated exchange, laced with an occasional smile, went on for the next 10 minutes with many others interfering and people taking sides. No side yielded and the girl, whose friend vociferously supported her, got off the bus, thinking she had the better of the exchange.

Despite the fact that this was a fight, I enjoyed the exchanges. I guess the fun was in the energy of the people and the beauty of the dialect that they spoke.

Viva Napoli!

Don't talk to psychopaths!

Every country has its share of loonies and as I was to discover, Italy is no exception. On the Circumvesuviano Train from Sorrento to Naples, I interacted with many of the fellow passengers. They were suprised that I wasn't a Bangladeshi immigrant but rather an Indian journalist studying in Italy. In fact, I met a lot of wonderful people on the streets of Naples who were happy to see a  "real Indian." I have to admist that I did feel special, like a star :)

Getting back to that train ride, there was a nice man sitting next to me in the train, who looked a bit like the all-time great baseball manager, Tommy Lasorda. The man knew some Bengali as well and befriended me talking about Buddhism and Christianity, analysing both religions. So far, so good. He then told me that he could show me a couple of places in the city as he had some free time. What a nice man, or so I thought!

I should have gotten a hint when he saw some young boys in one of the station and commented that they were sundar purushes as he put it (beautiful men in Hindi)! After we reached Naples, we took a bus and then I noticed that his affection was making me uncomfortable. He started holding my hand but then I thought it's a Southern Italian way of being nice. When he tried to touch my knees and my back, I asked him to stop.

Out of the bus and in a nice area of the city, I wanted to thank him for showing me around and leave. Then comes the question: "Have you ever made love with a man?" I told him that I haven't and don't want to. He then said Indians and Bengalis like to take it slow. I politely told him that I am not interested. He then told me that he was a leader in the Neapolation Mafia called the Camorra and that he could be dangerous. I didn't respond to that and he then said, we could meet in Siena. I doubt the man would come all the way here, but I can safely say that this is the first time in my life that getting friendly with a stranger put me in such a situation.

Napoli: Italy's Grafitti Capital

Before I write any further, I would like to set the record straight. I love Naples and the wonderful people that live in the great city.

Now that I got that disclaimer out of the way, here are some frank expressions on the city, which can easily be called the Bombay of Italy. My dear Italian professor in Bombay once commented that Naples resembles the Kalbadevi area of Bombay. I am inclined to agree that this is the case on a small scale as Naples just has a population of 1.5 million and the sheer madness of Kalbadevi on a weekday afternoon cannot be matched.

There are several points in Naples that offer great views of Mt Vesuvius and the Gulf of Naples. What distrubed me was the fact that most beautiful areas of the city have been trashed by grafitti. I fail to understand how people can be driven to destroy their heritage. It's one thing to spray paint newer structures on hills, but something else to vandalize old piazzas. Thankfully, the Galleria Umberto, one of the most beautiful buildings in all of Italy, has been left alone by the vandals, but the Piazza del Plesbicito, the most famous public square of the city has been desecrated by the grafitti punks. They haven't even spared the church on the square.

A lot of churches have been attacked by these "artists." Many of India's monuments have also been desecrated by idiots but the sheer scale of vandalism in the beautiful city of Naples shocked me.

Viva Napoli

There was a sense of coming home when my train entered the platform of the Naples Central Railway Station. It was a lifelong dream for me to visit the great city in southern Italy since I was child. Maybe it had something to do with the Dean Martin song "Amore" or the fact that I grew up in a neighbourhood in New York that had pizzerias serving Naples-style pizza. The home-coming may also have had to do with the fact that Naples has a lot in common with Bombay.

Spending time in the city made me nostalgic and thought about the older Italian men playing bocci in the afternoons in Queens. The people in the south looked more like the Italians you encounter in America.

They say you get the best pizza in the world in Naples and I can now certify that. The taste is out of this world and it will be tough for me to appreciate a margherita again...

Running in Siena

This is a wonderful city for those who want to get into good shape. It's hilly and going from any place to other involves going up and  down various hills.

Running can be a challenge here but I love my evening jogs up and down the hills of this historic town. It's too hot to run during the day, so it's either late evenings or early mornings. If I can manage to run regulalry, I will end up with muscular Tuscan legs, something that should help me run well in Shimla in the end of September.

As I write this, I see a crimson cloud on the Tuscan sky and twilight covering up some of the rolling and green hills of this beautiful region. I am truly blessed to be in what I consider the most beautiful country on earth.

Beautiful Siena

There are beautiful town and then there's Siena, a Tuscan hill town that was built in the Middle Ages and is almost preserved to perfection.

I will slowly get back into the blogosphere. So readers, please be patient.

Grazie

Who needs Guantanamo Bay when there's Delta Airlines?

I pondered long and hard about whether I should write this post and in the end I decided to go ahead with because I don't even want my worst enemy to suffer the torture of flying Delta from Bombay to Amsterdam.

In what has to be the greatest rip-off and con job, KLM Royal Dutch Airlines has a codeshare with Delta, where the latter flies to India's financial capital instead of the former. In keeping with the fact that American airlines are in bad shape, Delta flies a Boeing 767 with very little legroom, no individual monitors behind seats, poor in-flight entertainment, a terrible and freezing cold aircraft, service that leaves a lot to be desired and terrible food.

This is the worst long-haul flight one can ever take and it needs to be avoided like the plague. There are many options to fly to Europe from Bombay, so please look for another one.

Observations from the Konkan Railway

I can't count the number of occasions when I dropped off friends at the VT station for the 11:00 pm train to Goa, the Konkan Kanya Express. I'd wished on more than one of those occasions that I was taking that train. Thanks to a Tatkal booking, I took the overnight journey to paradise.

The 3 tier air-conditioned compartment looked more spacious than the ones that I am used to. The odd cockroach aside, it was a comfortable ride through Maharashtra's Konkan coast. Maharashtra probably has more landmass than many European countries. Till 9 am, we were still in this large state.

Before the Konkan Railway was built, environmental groups (bankrolled by bus operators) claimed that the railway would create an ecological disaster. It's not the railway per say that is causing a problem but the dirty masses that use the trains. The sides of the track are littered with all kinds of garbage. Most of it is dumped from the non-air conditioned coaches as the windows are open. That doesn't necessarily mean the wealthier travellers are clean.

By 10 am, were in Thibim, in North Goa, ready for Bardez and the tranquility of Candolim Beach in the monsoons.

For those following the Keenan Santos murder case

This is how the law works in India, even in a fast-track court.

Bombay's nightlife: The age of criminals

What does one do when the task of upholding the law has been handed to criminals? Is it possible to lead a normal existence when the criminally corrupt misuse archaic laws to make money and harass ordinary citizens. These same criminals then sell this to the media and the under-class of society and claim that the rich are upset that they are being punished for breaking laws.

A few night ago, I went to a popular bar with an attractive friend of mine, who makes many a head turn. The owner of this place then introduced us to "some friends." One friend, a poorly educated, foul-smelling aggressive man, told the owner in an aggressive voice that we should be given alcohol permits at once.

I am not sure if it was wise of this owner to boast about the pretty girl coming there three times a week, but still the tone of voice of that friend, an excise official was despicable. He was obsviously on a friendly bribe-collection spree.

This is the age of the criminals in Bombay, a much-predicted "Kali Yuga" where the worst monsters control the state machinery. Of course, all of India is now controlled by criminals with authority. This is definitely not the liberal, free country that Jawaharlal Nehru promised the people of India in 1947. Shame on all of us, for letting these criminals seize power. Shame on us for not doing enough to spread education and enlightenment.

We, collectively, have failed India and handed it in a gift-wrap to monsters!

Lesson in manners on a local train

I love train rides in the city. There's so much of Bombay and the vibes and changing mentalities that you can see when you take a local train.

On a train ride to Churchgate yesterday, an African man got in at Bandra with his extremly attractive wife/girlfriend. A man sitting near them decided to take a photo of the couple without asking permission. The African gentleman asked him politely to delete the pic, but the man ignored him and walked away. This infuriated the African man and he followed him and asked him again to delete the pic.

After being ignored again, the African snatched the phone and asked how the man dared to take a photo without asking permission. He was loud enough to attract other commuters to the scene and they asked the man in his late-40s to delete the photo. The ill-mannered man grumbled in Marathi about why the kaala was so offended but deleted the pic when forced to by other commuters, who rightfully took the side of the African man.

The frightened "photographer" got off at Dadar. I really hope he learned his lesson. As the train went towards Bombay Central, the conversation revolved around manners and how a few idiots give all Indians a bad name. One man in his 50s said, "we need to get used to seeing more Blacks and Whites and treat them with respect. They are after all our guests!"

That was a wonderful statement to hear from someone in a city that is notorious for having a large number of middle class racists. There just maybe hope for this country, after all!

An update on the Keenan Santos murder case

The main accused Jitender Rana has applied for bail and the hearing is due on July 7. For those of you that can turn up in Sewri for the hearing, please do so.

Here is what Benjamin Fernandes had to say about the upcoming hearing and the accused and his family members.

"Rana has applied for bail. His bail plea will be heard on 7 Jul at 2.45 pm as also the charges will be read out to him and the other 3 accused. The next court date will be an important one in this court case.
The accused were brought to court today, 2 hours before the court session during which time they spent socializing with their friends and family. It looked like they were at a family picnic, every one of them were happy to be there. The accused were kept inside the police van right outside the sewri court and their families had gathered around the grilled windows and were having a long chat. I was sitting in a car with tinted windows parked right ahead of the police van, so I had a close view of the entire gathering.

When the court session was about to begin the whole group went up to the 3rd floor and waited outside the court room, none of them entered the court room though, as their lawyer had advised the crowd not to enter the court room. I sat on the first bench at the entrance to the court room, so that I could take a close look at each of the accused. And as they were were brought in, I locked eyes with each of them one by one by one as they entered the court room. Rana put on an innocent smile to the judge when his lawyer submitted his bail application, but he could not hide the sinister viciousness in his killers' eyes.

I am hoping that the bail plea is turned down by Judge SP Deshmukh, considering the viciousness of this double murder, and with Rana's connections he may well disappear and go hide with his boss in Malaysia as is usually the case with criminals on the loose."
 

This case is about the freedom that we, Bombayites, deserve. Freedom for women from sexual harassment, freedom for young people to take a walk in the evenings without being attacked by criminals. We need to stand by the families of Keenan and Reuben. Those two brave young men could have been any of us.

How scary is the fact that people with pending murder cases are roaming the streets of this city? I am talking about the Ranas and Palandes of Bombay, who use the loopholes in the antiquated Indian legal system to carry out their reign of terror with the loose backing of politicians and some rogue policemen!

While I was away

It's great to be back home to know that the bandits in uniform, the Mumbai Police have gone on a rampage to destroy this city's nightlife. Armed with 19th century laws, these criminals are arresting mothers in restaurants and accusing them of being prostitutes. Life goes as normal in Khetwadi and Kamathipura, where human beings are in cages and sold to sex-maniacs!

The police are also filing charges against a bar for over crowding (I wonder why the Western and Central Railways get away with it?)

In the meantime, you have politicians and senior police officials openly supporting this thugish behaviour. What has happened to my city? Is this the same place where I could be at a nightclub till 6 am (college days in the late-1990s)? Who are these criminals that claim they are only doing their jobs?

The job of the police is to serve and protect. And they fail EVERYTIME a bomb goes off, they fail when chain-snatchers have a free run of the city. They fail when 10 men in a boat turn up from across the Arabian Sea and hold the city to ransom.

I realise all this is nothing but an attempt to create a class war. You see, it's fine for criminal elements to blast music well into the night during religious festivals. They can disturb the public, grope women and vandalize and that's all fine.

The aim of these "authorities" is to mobilise the lower classes so as to keep the middle class from questioning them over corruption. Ironically, it's the corruption of the police and politicians that keep the lower classes poor in the first place!

There is a particular degree of arrogance among the politcians, civil servants and the business houses that any kind of behaviour will be accepted. I have news for them, this city will sink into the bottom of the Arabian Sea if enough people decide they won't take this kind of non sense anymore.

Glorious May days in Bombay

Some people hate this month complaining about the humidity and the heat, but I love Bombay in May. How wonderful is it to have roads free of school buses and cars and rickshaws ferrying kids to and from school. It is so much easier to get from one place to another in May that I almost wish that more parents sent their children to boarding school.

This May has been particularly beautiful with the sea breeze regulating temperatures throughout the day. I love the freshness of the evenings. Ice creams at Naturals, aam pannas, delcious mangoes from Ratnagiri, late sunsets, beautiful evenings. Yes, the rains are just a couple of weeks away and then this city and Andheri in particular will turn into a gigantic mess.


Thankfully, there is still some more time to enjoy this wonderful month.

Could this be the Russian answer to Kolaveri Di?

An anonymous Live Journal send me the link to this video. I initially thought the email was spam but when I clicked on the link, I realised that this is really a cute Russian rap song that pokes fun at Siberians the way Kolaveri Di does at Tamilians.

I can't stop laughing each time I watch this video.

Sibirskaya Zima

The writing is on the wall for Kingfisher

In December when the media was on a frenzy over the imminent collapse of Kingfisher Airlines, I still flew on the 'King of Good Times' a few times and noticed that their service and food was excellent. I appreciated the professionalism of the crew and how the flights were on time.

A few months later, using a free flight to Chandigarh, I was on an erstwhile Deccan aircraft and all they served on a 2 hour 15 minute flight was a stale sandwich and a bottle of water. The crew looked demorialised and there was an air of bankruptcy on board.

Again on a Delhi-Bombay flight as my companion was flying free, the signs were visible. Sure, there were monitors with GPS on the seats, but the food served was indeed the same stale sandwich and they had no inflight entertainment. No headphone set that they would later collect.

It looks like Vijay Mallya's airline is on its deathbed and will close down anytime. What a tragedy for what was a 5-star airline and the best in India!!

Images from Naggar

You can see all the images from Himachal here

Bad Apples in the Kullu Valley

No place on earth would be complete without its own set of idiots and good-for-nothings. Naggar is no exception to this rule. The village, which is one of the safest in India, was witness to a mugging! That's right, a western-style mugging.

A Russian artist was walking to her guesthouse around 10 pm, when three people attempted to snatch her bag with a laptop. She tried to resist but they pulled it away and made a dash. The fear of getting beaten up, stopped her from chasing them. Since it was already late, there were no people on the streets to help her.

The artist went to the police station to file a complaint and the "efficient" cops managed to find one of the trio. She told them that all she wanted was her laptop back, since it had several of her designs. The cops then said, they wouldn't file an FIR but could arrest the guy.. Funny logic, isn't it?

She gave the criminal 2 days to return the laptop, but the man denied being part of the mugging. So smug is this criminal that he went and told others in the village that he is just a petty thief. He only steals shoes and jackets and small things. Not laptops and expensive products! The man in his early-20s is known to befriend foreigners to get a drink or smoke. This was the first ever incident of its kind in this Himalayan Hamlet.

When I spoke to the owner of the guesthouse, where the artist stayed, he told me that the police would act in a way that they filed a FIR and follow up the case. When I said that such "comedy" was unacceptable, he insisted that the cops would find the laptop as soon as it was put on sale!! When I told him that the criminals may have sent it down to Chandigarh, the man told me to go ahead with the FIR.

The artist, who didn't want the criminal to be tortured in lock-up, then proceeded to file the FIR since this young man was being extremely smug. I think the villagers of Naggar should teach their "petty thieves" a lesson. Socially boycott the family (who rushed to defend the criminal) and stigmatise the thieves in other ways. Naggar will lose its only source of livelihood if tourists stop visiting.

From the Abode of the gods

Ram is well in his 70s. He’s a kind and friendly person, who saw me running to the waterfall and wondered for how long and how far I have been running. He was appreciative of the fact that I made it all the way from Naggar. We became friends in a hurry. 

He recommended his grandson’s dhaba by the waterfall for a great meal (oh and what a FANTABULOUS meal it was!!). He told me that some dhabas here are even run by harijans (dalits, formerly untouchables). The city-dwellers who come here to see the falls ate from those dhabbas. My response was that I rejected the concept of caste. We are all Indians, right? The old gentleman tells me that we the people of the plains have forgotten caste but Himachal is the abode of the gods. The gods live here and they would not allow caste barriers to vanish. I take him on and ask if the concept of caste was created by men and not by gods? He insisted that the laws were universal and created by the gods...

Before any of you form a bad impression of this man, let me add what else he told me. In this village, every single person is educated regardless of caste. That in the classroom, all children are equal; that he invited members of the lower castes into his home for lunch and there were no separate plates for harijans or anyone. He also dined with the Harijans. So where did the caste barrier come in the way? With marriages and that was it. The man was friends with everyone in the village. I adore the old man but I can’t figure out his obsession to maintain even this watered-down version of the caste system.

Then the topic switched over to my “aren’t we all Indians” statement. “How long have we been Indians,” he asked. “Since 1947?” He wanted to know if it was the British that made us Indians. All I could tell him is that the Krishna that he worships everyday is the same Krishna that my mother prays to. And yes, the village of my grandparents in Kerala had these caste structures at one time too. So, are we different people?

Those of you reading this might wonder how a tree-hugging liberal agnostic like me used Hinduism as something that binds Kerala and Himachal. The fact is that Hinduism, the way it is practised, still binds people from Manipur to Maharashtra, from Kashmir to Kerala.  But it is not the only thing that binds us, the Indians, together. Regardless of religion, language and other factors, there is an innate Indian-ness in each and every Indian. And here I mean Indians living in India, not those who have permanently abandoned the motherland.

Yes, foreigners will never able to understand this concept of Indian-ness, but it sure does exist. This intangible Indian-ness binds us whether we like it or not.

Mountain-run from Naggar to Jana

Sometimes missing the bus can be a blessing in disguise. As I drank my morning tea and enjoyed the spectacle of the sunlight on the snowy Himalayan Mountains, the only bus connecting Naggar to Jana passed by my cottage. The sign said “Jana- 11.5 kilometres.” That wasn’t too far for someone who ran the Mumbai Marathon in January. I stayed in reasonably good shape, despite over-eating my mother’s delicious cooking (a real achievement!) 

Of course, Naggar is 1600 metres above sea level and I was clueless about the altitude of Jana. Then it suddenly hit me. Why not run the distance? Sure, I hadn’t run more than 5 kilometres at a stretch since the marathon but it was a cold morning and it was worth a try! So, there it all started on the Himalayan roads. It started off well since the road was descending for the first 100-odd metres. It more or less stayed flat for another couple of kilometres and I was thinking that this was going to be super-easy. Was I in for a shock!

I passed curious villagers, who wanted to know if I was Indian? They praised my himmat (courage) for running up these mountains. I was told that the climb is steep and I better take periodic breaks. The path through pristine and fragrant pine forests was stunningly beautiful, even without the views of the spectacular Himalayas. It has been cold ever since I came here and the spring flowers are slow to come into bloom. I did see some of the early bloomers. 

The road crosses a few unspoilt villages and by unspoilt I mean villages with traditional Himachal houses, all with smoking chimneys. There are also several springs and waterfalls all leading to the mighty Beas River. As the altitude kept rising, so did my fatigue, but I was determined to run the distance. My knee had healed from January and I was strong enough to last the distance. 

The more distance I covered, the more beautiful the scenery and the landscape became. I could see the banks of the Beas and “my village” of Naggar. I had travelled far! Jana was so near, yet so far! 4 kilometres at that altitude is like 12 in the plains! When I was about 3 kilometres away from Jana, I finally saw my first apple orchard! It was spring and the leaves were just coming on the trees. Some trees had started flowering. I can’t imagine how beautiful these orchards would be in the late-summer.

After a physical and mental struggle, I saw that I was just 1 kilometre away from the village of Jana: 2200 metres above sea level. The village turned out to be so beautiful, right out of a fairy tale! There were rows and rows of fragrant lilac trees. Those same lilacs that made the streets of Yuzhno-Sakhalinsk smell so good in June! I decided to run all the way to the Jana waterfall, another 2 kilometres away but without a climb. An impromptu 13.5 kilometre run took me to this paradise of a Himalayan village!

Charming cottages, blue skies, the warm sun on my skin, a powerful waterfall and oh those mighty mountains in the background! Such Bliss!!

And for the record, I wasn’t going to wait for a bus for 2 hours after a delicious lunch and so I walked the 13 kilometres back to Naggar. I love Himachal!

The Wonderful Paharis of Himachal

When I interact with the simple Paharis or mountain-folk of Himachal Pradesh, I am reminded of Dostoyevsky’s writings about the simple Russian peasants of his time. Like the peasants of Czarist Russia, the Paharis are a nice, hard-working, beautiful and spiritual lot. 

I wonder what makes them as beautiful as they are...Is it the fresh food, the vegetables and rice grown on the mountains? The Himalayan Ferns that look, feel and taste like the paparatnik of Sakhalin? Is it the fresh and pure air? Or maybe the delicious water that they drink from the clear streams and springs? It could be that spirituality that brings a glow from inside out. 

These Paharis are no uneducated rustics, mind you. Even in the smallest of villages that I crossed, I met people who were fluent in English but chose to speak to me endearingly in Hindi. The handsome young man running a dhaba by the waterfall in Jana wrote his grandfather’s address for me in a handwriting that is better than the most sophisticated of my urban friends. 

How nice to greet strangers with a Namaste-ji and a smile! Maybe the real India is preserved in these wonderful Himalayan villages.

Nicholai Roerich on Mountains

“Mountains, mountains! What magnetic forces are concealed within you! What a symbol of quietude is revealed in every sparkling peak! The legends of the greatest valour are conceived near mountains. The most human words find outlet on snowy heights.”