At dance class, children frequently cannot find their shoes. They leave their shoes in a mess outside the hall, and in their eagerness to leave when their parents come, other shoes get kicked, sometimes quite far away.One child came up to me with worry written all over her little round face. "Miss, my feet..." She stopped. The word was wrong."My shoe," I suggested, having understood the problem.She shook her head, frowning. That was not the word she was looking for. "My foot," she began, laboriously."Shoe," I suggested again, helpfully, I thought.She shook her head again, a little impatient with me this time. A frown of concentration had replaced the worry on her face. After a few seconds, she announced, triumphantly, "One foot does not have a shoe." … [Read more...]
Ramayan in French
My association with France began with a French exchange programme in 2004. I was vegetarian, I barely spoke French, I had never heard the French accent, I was to live with a French family for three weeks and I was to attend French school in that time. And because I was 17, I was not scared, I was excited.I remember the first day vividly. I remember all the attempts everyone made at making conversation. We talked about the world wars. We talked about food. We talked about India. We talked about France. I understood about five per cent of the conversation.And then, one thing led to another, and my sister and I started talking about the Ramayana. In English, it's a beautiful, complex story that I enjoy telling. In French especially back then, I was comfortable only with present tense. That's all very well for regular story-telling, but if you forget that one little episode, you're … [Read more...]
Complete Instructions
I revisited a very old recipe-book today. A little bored of baking cakes and pies, I decided to look at different kinds of dessert for a change. So I took out my little green book that's falling to bits - a book called Refrigerator Recipes. I remember liking the book very much because of its attention to detail. Today, it made me smile once more because of how it begins with the very basics. The first chapter is titled 'Buying a Refrigerator'. … [Read more...]
Crisp Apple Strudel
When we went to Salzburg, we knew more about The Sound of Music than about Mozart. Now I'm mildly embarrassed about that, but when we went, I was just plain excited.Everyone wants to talk to young Indian backpackers, and conversation with a co-passenger from Vienna to Salzburg was natural. She told us she lived in Vienna and travelled to Salzburg regularly for work, so we asked her our excited questions: how easy is it to buy apple strudel? Is it a speciality of Salzburg/ Austria? What is schnitzel? Do you eat it with noodles?Vastly amused, she answered our questions before asking us why our questions were so pointed.We told her about the famous song from The Sound of Music, a little surprised that she had not heard of it."Yes, yes," she replied. "I've heard of the movie, I think. But not many people in Austria know it. It's the story of many Austrians during the war." She hinted … [Read more...]
A Night in Florence
"Is the station open all night?" In Florence with no hostel to stay at and frightfully expensive hotel options, we had no choice but to stay at the station."Yes," replied the lady and walked away. I wonder if she even understood the question.We made ourselves comfortable in the waiting-room, as comfortable as we could get. There were other people, thankfully, so we didn't feel destitute. Sitting in the waiting-room somehow bordered on the normal, even though we had not done it before. We lounged on chairs, hugging our luggage, trying to get the seats not to poke us too much. And then, at midnight, they chased us out of the waiting room. "Station-strike," they said.We groaned, picked up our luggage and went out. We were three teenagers outside a station in a foreign country in the middle of the night. Yes, there were others, but they spoke a language we didn't know, they were all … [Read more...]
Nagarahole
It was not the first time we were going to a wildlife sanctuary. We had been to Kanha and we loved it. The idea of going into the jungle once more was thrilling. Safaris in jeeps, the quiet anticipation of a tiger's approach and the sudden sight of a wild boar or a peacock hiding in the trees. Our skin tingled.Until we went to the jungle in Nagarahole for the first time.There, we learned that no jeeps were allowed into the jungle - only a minibus with 25 people. Disappointed already, we set off from the hotel in a jeep with a driver who ought to have considered racing as an alternative profession. Or, as my sister said, "If he likes driving so fast, he should drive an ambulance!" On roads where wildlife crosses at any time, vehicles speed at a crazy 50 or even 60 kmph. As if that's not enough, they approach wild animals as if they're approaching structures of stone! Our driver, … [Read more...]
Learning to Communicate
"Do you speak English?" we asked three police-people standing at a signal in Milan.The policewoman shook her head and turned to the men. "Just a leetle," said one.Then began our attempt to tell them we were lost and looking for our hostel. The hostel had given us a map, but we had walked clean off the map and had no idea how to get back. The word 'hostel' brought no reaction, so we showed them the map and said 'ostello'. We had no idea how to ask 'where', 'how', nothing! But 'ostello' was enough. They brought out another, more detailed map of Milan and had an animated discussion while we watched. They argued with one another about how we could go, one would start explaining to us slowly, another would interrupt...Then the policewoman tried. She said something like 'douce'. We shrugged. She asked again, "Douce, douce?" We had no idea what she was trying to say.Then, one of the … [Read more...]
Raghurajpur
If you have a day in Puri, visit Raghurajpur. You can see the Konark temple in history textbooks; you can't see the little craft village with all its passion and creativity.Raghurajpur is famous for painting on Tussar silk and for its palm-leaf engraving. Watching the process of engraving palm leaves was fascinating, as was noticing the attention to detail in each engraving. It was magical to see a splotch of ink on a palm leaf being transformed into a beautiful engraving that would last four hundred years.Even so, more appealing than all this are the artists themselves. Yes, they try and sell everything to you, but the moment you buy something very small and show them that you love their art, they open their hearts to you. They joyfully show you their masterpieces even though they know you are in absolutely no position to buy them. They truly are artists, showing you their work just … [Read more...]
The FERRY
I had been on a ferry before - to Essel World. I knew all about ferries, I thought. In any case, what was to know? Five hundred people on a boat that could accommodate about three hundred, all carrying fish and other things I did not want to identify. That was what we were prepared for.Like vagabonds, having roamed the streets of Bari all day, we reached well in time for our ferry to Greece. We were tired and dirty, waiting to reach Greece and have a much-needed bath.Then we saw the ferry.It was not a ferry in my dictionary. It was not even a ship; it was a SHIP.We felt almost untouchable on that ship, gaping at it with starry eyes. There was a red carpet and an escalator. There were lounges (in the plural), a Mariners' Club, a swimming pool, a gaming zone, 'playland' for children, a cafe, bars...We mustered what confidence we could to get onto the boat like scruffy … [Read more...]
First Day at School
I moved to a school in Pune when I was five years old. I was like any other excited girl in the first standard with my new tiffin box, my new water bottle and my new bag with new books. I came from a smallish school in Vashi, so even the city was new to me. My first day still stands out in my memory.In my old school, when it was time for us to eat, our teacher used to tell us, "Come now, children, open your tiffin boxes!"In my new school, when the bell rang, we were supposed to eat. Nobody told five-year-old me.I remember clearly how hungry and grumpy I was when school got over at 3:30. I remember how angry I was with my seven-year-old sister for not having told me that I should have eaten. I even remember that my mother laughed when I got home.What I don't remember is this: what was five-year-old Varsha doing when fifty one children in her class got up and went out … [Read more...]