Warm January

It's a warm January afternoon and I am half way through a novel on racing. The description of the race course,the imagery of the place are all so wonderful and calming and for a moment I thought I must try and describe my surroundings. Of course compared to English country side,the dusty descriptions of an Indian city can hardly compare but this is my home and my life and perhaps,just perhaps,it may be interesting to those who live amongst beauty and don't quiet appreciate it.

It's meant to be the coldest month in this part of the world but the temperature hovers around thirty degrees centigrade,the sun shines brightly. The room is full of furniture of a bygone past,all scavenged from ansestors long gone or from parents still a around. Clothes pile up for ironing but the ironing man doesn't come (we hardly iron our own clothes nowadays,this is a land of pelenty of people and everyone needs a job).

The air is thick with traffic sounds,an ambulance with sirens blaring comes around almost every hour. The trees are heavy with dust and the only birds one hears are the crows. Silence is unheard of in this town. Houses are stark all concrete and glass adding to the insufferable heat. My thick red curtains keep out most of the light in an attempt to keep cool. The fans whirl non stop and the house is filled with the aroma of a thousand spices. Food is served piping hot and it induces a sense of lethargy which invariably means afternoon naps are the order of the day. The sound of water trickling isn't from any brook or stream ,it's from a tap, a car being washed of the grime of a journey or two. Dogs are being cooled down by warm tepid water. Hot water runs in our taps,boiled by the sun,plants wilt in the heat and it's not even summer.

I walk in the afternoon heat (with dust rising with every footstep) to a swimming pool to exercise and cool off. The water is hot but a few laps and one is happy. Desert like flora offer some shade and the afternoon calm is only broken by the pigeons dipping into the pool to drink of the water. It's all silence here and I can only hear my feet and arms trashing through the water.

This is a day in a hot tropical city where cold in unheard of,where the heat rises each year making it hotter and hotter. There is no respite but in its own way this is what I've lived with all my life and if rolling hills and horses were what I was offered ,yes I would like that too but sooner than later I would want to come back to the familiar heat and dust of an Indian city.

Goodbye Germany

Finally the holiday ends. A mixture of seeing places,living like locals and generally doing nothing. I have experienced extreme heat and cold and must admit that there is something very alluring about temperatures in single digits. A part of my heart lies in Germany simply because it's a beautiful place unspoilt by tourism. If there are any tourist they are Germans exploring thei own country. Difficult to find English speaking tours here. Most people wonder why I make my trips to Germany.  Friends apart,it is a beautiful place for many reasons. It's cities have some old building,it's weather is mild to cold everything one imagines of Europe. The people are conservative,thrifty,hardworking and practical. I rarely have come across a stylish German. Sold footwear and well wearing coats are more their thing. Contrast this with France or Italy and one has only to look at the woman. All high heels and high fashion they are a treat to the eye. The style can be intimidating but in Germany it's fine to be unstylish.

The landscape again is almost like England,with lush green fields,cows,horses and farms. Farmers markets abound and the fruits and vegetables are fresh. Small farmers sell local produce,and are proud of being local. The food unlike Italy and France is nothing to write home about. It's solid meat ,potato and salad and of course the pickled cabbage and some others. The beer is splendid in its variety. Even in the cold they can drink chilled beer and be happy. One doesn't have to worry about wine etiquette,unless one wants to or would like to be a snob. 

Quaint little dolls and garden gnomes do every garden,the forests which inspired the brothers grim ,continue to bring fairy tales alive. Many a tradition is unique to Germany.

Germans have no problem acknowledging their religion. They are Christian and proud to be so. I was surprised to see an entire story on immigrants based on the bible at the airport,but in now way does this belief infringe on another's freedom. For a history that cannot be forgotten,this belief comes as welcome fact. 

Being green is not an alien concept for the average German ,as is obeying rules. Does it ever occur to them to break a rule?. Perhaps but not too often. Trust is another big thing here. They actually trust the government and their people. They will faithfully bag garbage in to organic,plastic and paper waste. Bottles are recycled into green blue and white bottles. No one makes a mistake on the colours. In my country to get people to bag garbage is a huge task leave alone asking them to segregate it ,unless one is a snob or the foreign returned rich Indian who likes to think they are different from others and who live is gated communities where it is easy or the in thing to do.

I have learnt to wipe kitchen surfaces and keep it all sparkling something I find difficult to do in ,y own house

Of course like in all countries they have their issues but a German would be shocked if a system in his country didn't work. Efficiency is a given and for me it's amazing how everything run like clockwork. Never have I had to wait for a bus beyond the time mentioned. Trains have come to the same platform that they were promised to arrive on six months ahead. The order in contrast to ,my chaos is what brings me back. In small towns women and girls walk home late at night,run in parks any time of day and despite being deserted,they have no fear. I loved walking here in the sure knowledge that I was safe. Never in all my life have I felt so safe,not even in the suburb wher I have lived all my life. Why do I take the car out even to go a short distance in the night? I have to constantly look over my shoulder if I walk alone in a deserted street and fear is always around the corner. I know there is crime in this country as no country is perfect but one is almost certain that atleast eight percent will be punished for their crimes. Isn't that a great way to live. Yes life isn't easy. No servants,no gardeners even if you have a garden. All the work to be done besides holding full time jobs. Shops close at six thirty in the evenings. No one to iron ones clothes,or wash ones dishes.....yet for all those luxuries in my country I would happily trade it for a hard but efficient life the German way.

The past and the present

All it was ,was a memory of forty odd years ago ,of childhood summers spent in a house many miles from the place I call home. A large six bedroom house its gates heaved under the weight of colourful bougainvillea in a riot of colours. This was where we would swing to and fro just for the fun of it. The main door had four panels with wooden stoppers,those doors have long passed their prime but the old houses keep them. The garden between house and gate was filled with fine pebbles that crumched as you walked up to the front door. No one could come in unannounced you were heard before you were seen. A veranda skirted the house on all sides and this was filled with potted plants of roses,poppies,strange colourful leafy varieties of croutons. The living room had a red carpet running all the way to the back of the house. Walk through the door and one enters a room that had no real purpose except to serve as a meeting place for all the family. The dinning room was a long corridor and behind it on the outside ther was a chicken coup . Fresh eggs had to be collected everyday for breakfast.

Childhood was spent roaming the grounds behind the house where all manner of fruit and vegetables grew. Menus were decided on what was in season and children like us had the pleasure of plucking anything that was in season.

Years later with the grandparents dead the house went to rack and ruin. It's silence was defending at times,no children played on the lawns,no adults had heated discussions and slowly the flowers died of neglect and the fruit trees turned to birds to keep them alive.

I return with my memory intact to try and re create the memory that is so fresh in my mind. I remember the steep road that led to the house and I recognise the bus stop but for the life of me I cannot find the road. There is no address ,for in those days we had only to name our grandfather to find our house but finding someone of that generation is difficult. The main road is packed bumper to bumper with cars ( in our days a bus was a rare occurrence). We have to call a cousin to get directions only to find that we have gone on the road twice but haven't found the house.

Forty years and development has taken its toll. The road has been widened to accommodate all ever increasing traffic and our beautiful pebbled lawn has now become road. The wide sweep to our front door is gone. My cousins have sold part of the garden and in the place of mulberry bushes and cashew nut trees,we now have an ugly tin building. Finally thanks to a frail uncle ( the purpose of the visit besides the memories) sitting in his easy chair watching the world go by,we find the other house in the same compound. It's more modern than I remember I bu it holds no memories. I rush back to the old house to take some pictures. The backyard remains the same wild and overgrown and I recognise some vegetables of my childhood. The side road is still the narrow country parth it was those many years ago and the front door hasn't changed but it has that sad depleted look of a country house once a glorious landmark ,now stripped of its grand status or does one as a small child see things much larger than I now see it as an adult? Whatever the reason I decide to hold on to my childhood memory. It's a lot more real,a lot more colourful and no fancy photography is required to hold it safe in my mind.