Once it brought up to me an amusing website about the year of  birth. The site http://whathappenedinmybirthyear.com/ led me to discover as to what all happened during 1957, the year of my birth. This is how it read…

‘”In 1957, the world was a different place

There was no Google yet. Or Yahoo. Or Sn115w.snt115.mail.live, for that matter.

In 1957, the year of your birth, the top selling movie was The Bridge on the River Kwai. People buying the popcorn in the cinema lobby had glazing eyes when looking at the poster.
Remember, that was before there were DVDs. Heck, even before there was VHS. People were indeed watching movies in the cinema, and not downloading them online. Imagine the packed seats, the laughter, the excitement, the novelty. And mostly all of that without 3D computer effects.

Do you know who won the Oscars that year? The academy award for the best movie went to The Bridge on the River Kwai. The Oscar for best foreign movie that year went to The Nights of Cabiria. The top actor was Alec Guinness for his role as Colonel Nicholson in The Bridge on the River Kwai. The top actress was Joanne Woodward for her role as Eve White in The Three Faces of Eve. The best director? David Lean for The Bridge on the River Kwai.

In the year 1957, the time when you arrived on this planet, books were still popularly read on paper, not on digital devices. Trees were felled to get the word out. The number one US bestseller of the time was By Love Possessed by James Gould Cozzens. Oh, that’s many years ago. Have you read that book? Have you heard of it?

In 1957… Elvis Presley appears on The Ed Sullivan Show for the 3rd and final time. He is only shown from the waist up, even during the gospel segment. The Saarland joins West Germany. British Prime Minister Anthony Eden resigns. France prohibits U.N. involvement in Algeria. Andrei Gromyko becomes foreign minister of the Soviet Union. Dr. Seuss’ The Cat in the Hat is published. The French newspaper L’Express reveals that the French army tortures Algerian prisoners. Egypt reopens the Suez Canal to all shipping. The International Atomic Energy Agency is established. John Lennon and Paul McCartney meet for the first time, as teenagers at Woolton Fete, 3 years before forming the Beatles.

That was the world you were born into. Since then, you and others have changed it.

The Nobel prize for Literature that year went to Albert Camus. The Nobel Peace prize went to Lester Bowles Pearson. The Nobel prize for physics went to Tsung-Dao Lee and Chen Ning Yang from Republic of China for their penetrating investigation of the so-called parity laws which has led to important discoveries regarding the elementary particles. The sensation this created was big. But it didn’t stop the planets from spinning, on and on, year by year. Years in which you would grow bigger, older, smarter, and, if you were lucky, sometimes wiser. Years in which you also lost some things. Possessions got misplaced. Memories faded. Friends parted ways. The best friends, you tried to hold on. This is what counts in life, isn’t it?

The 1950s were indeed a special decade. The American economy is on the upswing. The cold war betwen the US and the Soviet Union is playing out throughout the whole decade. Anti-communism prevails in the United States and leads to the Red Scare and accompanying Congressional hearings. Africa begins to become decolonized. The Korean war takes place. The Vietnam War starts. The Suez Crisis war is fought on Egyptian territory. Fidel Castro, Che Guevara and others overthrow authorities to create a communist government on Cuba. Funded by the US, reconstructions in Japan continue. In Japan, film maker Akira Kurosawa creates the movies Rashomon and Seven Samurai. The FIFA World Cups are won by Uruguay, then West Germany, then Brazil.

Do you remember the movie that was all the rage when you were 15? Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex. Do you still remember the songs playing on the radio when you were 15? Maybe it was American Pie by Don McLean. Were you in love? Who were you in love with, do you remember?

In 1957, 15 years earlier, a long time ago, the year when you were born, the song That’ll Be the Day by The Crickets topped the US charts. Do you know the lyrics? Do you know the tune? Sing along.

Well, that’ll be the day, when you say goodbye
Yes, that’ll be the day, when you make me cry
You say you’re gonna leave, you know it’s a lie
‘Cause that’ll be the day when I die
…

There’s a kid outside, shouting, playing. It doesn’t care about time. It doesn’t know about time. It shouts and it plays and thinks time is forever. You were once that kid.

When you were 9, the movie Journey to the Beginning of Time was playing.

6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… it’s 1957. There’s TV noise coming from the second floor. Someone turned up the volume way too high. The sun is burning from above. These were different times. The show playing on TV is Leave It to Beaver. The sun goes down. Someone switches channels. There’s Zorro on now. That’s the world you were born in.

Progress, year after year. Do you wonder where the world is heading towards? The technology available today would have blown your mind in 1957. Do you know what was invented in the year you were born? The Electric Compact Calculator. The Jet Boat.

Amelia, it’s May and blossoms 1957
Single but bold
I see you, belle of the ball and
Hometown sweethear, gifted
…

That’s from the song Amelia by Jonatha Brooke.

In 1957, a new character entered the world of comic books: Gaston. Bang! Boom! But that’s just fiction, right? In the real world, in 1957, Spike Lee was born. And Melanie Griffith. Stephen Fry, too. And you, of course. Everyone an individual. Everyone special. Everyone taking a different path through life.
It’s 2011.

The world is a different place.”"

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The decision to visit the Fest, like most of my decisions, was unplanned, impulsive and at the eleventh hour. Once I took the decision, I started looking for a place to stay and realized, to my consternation, that hardly any hotel, motel, guest house had a room to spare and the ones which were available were selling at a tariff well beyond my reach. Anyway, a former colleague and dear friend graciously offered to take us in and play the host. He also later helped us get into one of the tents without which the visit would have been meaningless. Mind you, we did not have any reservation as the reservations were done about a year in advance. Of course, some of the tents throw open the venues for a limited number but those are taken generally by early birds who do not mind standing in the queue for hours. Another option is to befriend one of the waiters or waitresses, choice is yours, who are generally adept in getting you inside the tent if they want. Guess, how we got in! So if you are intent on a trip to Munich for the Fest, please do some planning and, at least, fix your accommodation well in time.

[simage=1961,144,c,right,][simage=1951,144,c,right,][simage=1954,144,c,right,]The world famous Oktoberfest of Munich, anachronistically, is celebrated largely in September. The annual celebration only for a few days earlier which started in mid October has over the years been advanced to mid September, as it is still relatively warmer for outside festivities. The duration has also increased to about 15 days ending with the first weekend of October. The locals also call the Fest ”Die Wiesn” based on its location at Theresienwiese named after Princess Theressa. [simage=1968,144,c,left,][simage=1981,144,c,left,][simage=1972,144,c,left,][simage=1965,144,c,left,][simage=1966,144,c,left,][simage=1970,144,c,left,][simage=1969,144,c,left,][simage=1949,144,c,left,][simage=1977,144,c,left,]Colourful events, including Parades, Carnivals, Magic Shows, Rides as well as Booths selling souvenirs, eatables, cigarettes, etc and more than a dozen gigantic beer tents, each bigger than the other and accommodating thousands of revellers,  jostle with one another at the festival site and take you on the roller coaster of a drunken revelry, often verging on stupor, if you let yourself loose in the flow. Going around the Fest ground is an experience in itself. I was stupefied to see a young, drunk woman trying to jump out of a window and clearly amused to notice another fellow sleeping peacefully in a thorny bush.

Going to the Fest in your own vehicle is foolish as it is impossible to get a convenient parking during the period. The best is to use the Public Transport network of Munich which is fairly well geared for the occasion. We did precisely that, thanks to our host. The mood for the Fest was set in the train itself as we became a part of the great parade heading towards Ground Zero. It was a delightful sight. Women dressed in colourful Dirndl, a full-skirted dress with a tight bodice and low neck, tantalizingly displaying their ‘assets’ looked all the more feminine and men dressed in shortened, Bavarian leather pants, shirts, waistcoats, Bavarian hats, calf socks and Brogues looked all the more macho. Brogues are traditional, Bavarian shoes with high ride heels, low cut under the ankles and laces on the sides. Lights and music completed the spectacle.[simage=1964,144,c,left,][simage=1978,144,c,left,][simage=1963,144,c,left,]

It is impossible to capture truly the atmosphere of uninhibited revelry inside the tent with thousands of guests, each holding a huge beer mug, dancing, singing, swaying, touching, feeling, hugging, kising in the aisles, on the benches, on the table tops to the live music being crooned, generally, from an elevated centre stage. Like it or not, you get sucked in…Similarly, it is difficult for me to understand how petite, delicate, young waitresses move around with ten large beer mugs, each containing a litre of frothy liquid, in their hands serving the guests with finesse. You have to be there to get the hang of it and, finally, end up hung over.[simage=1971,320,c,center,]

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[simage=1948,320,n,left,]Landlocked and squeezed from all sides by Belgium , France and Germany, Luxembourg is one of the smallest but also one of the prettiest countries of Europe. Its spectacular valleys and plateaus with their self protective characteristics combined with its strategic location, perhaps, led to its being nicknamed ‘the Gibraltar of the North’. The heavily fortified Luxembourg City, though now most of the fortifications stand razed down, is home to a people of mixed cultural, ethnic and linguistic backgrounds living in great harmony with one another. The Gare, the Grund and the areas adjacent to the William Square, perhaps, offer the best sight seeing opportunities in Luxembourg.

The magnificent statue on a horseback of the famous Grand Duke William II, also the then King of the Netherlands, dominates the Square at the City centre. [simage=1924,320,n,right,]Across lies the impressive Grand-Ducal Palace where the present Grand Duke of Luxembourg  lives with family. Just behind the Palace is the old town area leading down to the lower part of the city popularly called the Grund. [simage=1925,288,n,right,][simage=1944,288,n,left,]The Gare is the area surrounding city’s main railway station. There is a lot to see in Luxembourg and the best way to do that is to cover the areas on foot. You get a magnificent view of the deep valley when you take a leisurely walk on Chemin de la Corniche, which is rightly called “Europe’s most beautiful balcony“. After seeing the Bock (the Rock on which Luxembourg was founded in the 10th Century by Count Siegfied, the Casemates (a subterranean tunnel system), the Cathedral (Notre Dame), the famous Bridges, etc, the place to wander around actually is the Grund where some of the oldest houses of Luxembourg are located on its meandering, cobbled streets. It is a lively place where you can really have fun times in one of its many bars and restaurants. Fire & Ice is one such pub that we had visited during our wanderings.[simage=1934,320,n,right,][simage=1941,320,n,right,]

Before I conclude, I’d like to repeat a poignant and romantic but mythological story associated with the story of origin of Luxembourg I read on the Internet. It is said that when Count Siegfried built his castle on the“Bock” in 963, he also found  Melunisa, an enchantingly beautiful woman, who became the love of his life. Melusina had told Siegfried that, whatever happened, he should never watch her when she was taking a bath. If he did so he would lose her. Siegfried, however, could not control his curiosity, watched Melunisa once through the keyhole while she was taking her bath and discovered that she was, actually, a mermaid. Melusina saw Siegfried and jumped out of the window down into the river Alzette. Though Siegfried never saw her again, she could sometimes be heared singing from the bottom of the river.

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Innsbruck, the capital of Tirol province of Austria nestled in a broad valley between high mountains of the Alps, is a place where you can just be without doing anything even though there are plenty to do all around. It was my second visit to Innsbruck and hardly anything had changed in the past three years. I loved just walking in the older pedestrian district of Innsbruck (Altstadt), particularly on the Herzog Fredrich Strasse.  In the Square in front of the Stadtturm (City Tower) and Goldenes Dachl (Golden Roof), there is a lot happening on any given day. On the day of our visit, there was a live band playing at the Square to the tune of which the tourists were swaying in plain delight. Hofburg (Imperial Palace), Hofkirche (Imperial Church), Triumphal Arch and all other important monuments are close by.  Ski Jump Stadium on the Bergisel visible from a long distance reminds you of the importance of Innsbruck as a major centre for winter sports.

Drive to Venice, Byron’s ‘fairy city of the heart, rising like water columns from the sea,’ from Innsbruck through the Brennan Pass, Brunico, Cortina, San Vito etc, though more time taking, was one of the most scenic and picturesque drives of the trip. Autostrade in Italy is fairly well maintained but paying the tolls at every entry and exit is a great nuisance. We chose to stay in Mestre, an industrial suburb of Venice, as staying in downtown Venice was not only very expensive but also greatly inconvenient due to problems of portage and parking. It was quite convenient from Mestre by bus to Piazzala Roma and then by a Vaporetto (water bus) to San Marco. Unlike the last time when we were in Venice in October, the Piazza San Marco was teeming with tourists as it was supposedly the high season. In spite of the crowd, just loitering in the lanes and bylanes of downtown Venice, going up to the Rialto on the Grand Canal or simply letting yourself loose in its seductively meandering streets had not lost its old charm. I found Murano exactly as I had left it in October 2008. Last time we had purchased an expensive but pretty bird of the Murano glasswork as a memento but this time around we were wiser, thanks to the German Flohmarkt where you could often pick up original Murano wares at a half or one third of the price. When all is said and done, I would like to assert that the heart of Venice is at Piazza San Marco and its presiding spirit is romance. It is not for nothing that Casanova was a Venetian. And, admit it or not, there is a Casanova in each of us.

Driving by Padua and Bologna on the Autostrade, we reached Florence, the cradle of Renaissance and home of Dante, Machiavelli and Michelangelo. Once in Florence, the history, art and culture of the place with several of its still standing witnesses leave you emotionally overwhelmed but physically drained. You have little choice other than to walk, and walk you must, if you want to see and soak in the beauty and majesty of its sites spread in a wide area across the river Arno, covering a timespan of more than two thousand years. We started from Santa Maria Novella and came back again to the same point several hours later literally bone tired and footsore but, nevertheless, internally exhilirated after visiting Piazza del Duomo, Palazzo Vecchio, Uffizi Gallery, through Ponte Vecchio to Palazzo Pitti, its magnificent Boboli Gardens, Piazza Santo Spirito, Piazza della Repubblica, Palazzo Medici Riccardi to the famous Accademia Gallery housing Michelangelo’s celebrated David. The long queue of thosands for entry into the Accademia just for seeing David reminded me of a few words from Eliot’s The Love Song…

”Oh, do not ask,“What is it?”

Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo.”

A friend of mine had suggested not to miss Siena if I was ever in Italy. We took him for his words and were grateful at the end. The sheer majesty of Piazza del Campo with its expansive but concave courtyard in front of a nobly proportioned Gothic town hall (Palazzo Pubblico) was awesome. Duomo in Siena, another Gothic masterpiece, happens to be one of the most enchanting cathedrals of Italy. Truly, Siena is Italy’s one of the most well preserved medieval towns. Certain medieval traditions like Palio di Siena, the horse race around Piazza del Campo twice every year (July 2 and August 16) are still maintained. The landscape of the town with its undulating streets dotted with medieval buildings is, indeed, a delightful sight.

The city of one of the greatest ancient empires and the seat of the Holy See, Rome (Roma) has history scattered around in its every fallen stone and still standing monument. True, Rome was not built in a day. The myth says that Rome was established on the Palatino, one of the seven hills, by Romulus after he killed his twin brother Remus. The legendary twins, Romulus and Remus, were raised by a she-wolf. From the Palatino grew an empire which literally covered the whole of the ancient world known at that time. It is rightly said that it would take years to explore every aspect of Rome’s compacted history but very few of us have the time or the inclination to do so. We had only four days in Rome and we found them quite adequate to cover the seat of ancient Rome between the Colosseum and the Vatican as well as some outlying areas.

The Colosseum, indeed, is the most famous monument of Rome. The sheer scale of the dilapidated amphitheater which had a capacity for 80,000 spectators is awesome. Not many stadia even in modern times have that large a capacity. Circus Maximus, a chariot racetrack, though in ruins, had a capacity of 300,000 spectators. I wonder if Formula One racetrack has that luxury. The ruins of Roman Forum, lying between the Capitoline and Palatine hills, the political, commercial and religious centre of ancient Rome, are worth exploring in detail if you have a sense of history and archaeology.

Piazza del Campidoglio, designed by Michelangelo in the 16th century on the Capitoline hill, earlier the seat of ancient Roman Government, is aesthetically enchanting. The unique stairway leading to the Piazza, the facades of the three palaces bordering its open space, the bronze statue of Marcus Aurelius on the horseback at the centre and various other statues and sculptures transport you straight into the sensuous world of the legendary artist. Walk to the other side and you get a panoramic view of the Forum.

Piazza Venezia with it’s overwhelming neoclassical monument dedicated to Vittorio Emanuele II, built to commemorate Italy’s unification, also has Palazzo Venezia which was Mussolini’s home. Mussolini had made several important speeches from it’s balcony. In fact, Piazza Venezia is now like a hub from where all the important monuments are easily reachable. The Pantheon, no doubt, is a majestic structure and one of the best preserved monuments of ancient Rome. The Trevi Fountains which is also close by attracts the tourists in droves. It is said that if you throw a coin into the Fountains with your back towards it, you visit Rome again and if you throw two, you can make a wish which will be fulfilled. I threw one coin only so that I could make a wish fulfilling throw next time I visited Rome. I made it a point to visit the Spanish Steps and see the house, presently a Shelley-Keats Museum, where John Keats lived the last few months of his consumptive life. The poet’s immortal words, “a thing of beauty is a joy for ever“, ring so true when you stand in front of the fountain facing the Steps to the right of which in the corner building these two great Romantics had once lived. Lastly, the grandeur of St. Peter’s Basilica and the Vatican Museum which also houses the Sistine Chapel were a sumptuous treat for the aging sensibilities of this humble being.

We drove to Pisa from Rome via Grosetto along the coast of the Ligurian Sea though, contrary to expectations, we saw very little of the sea from the highway. Piazza del Duomo, now more popularly called Piazza dei Miracoli, in Pisa is the place where one of the wonders , the Leaning Tower, still stands. The sight of the Leaning Tower, which was originally planned as a bell tower for the adjoining cathedral, was like a wish fulfilment as one had heard so much about it in the younger years. The Piazza dei Miracoli offers several other architectural masterpieces of the period such as the Duomo which has enchanting Gothic features and the Baptistery whose shape evokes that of the Holy Sepulcher. A university town where Galileo Galilei had once studied, Pisa’s lanes and streets flanked by 
several medieval buildings are a pleasurable experience to walk along. Starting from Piazza dei Miracoli to Piazza del Cavalieri, the centre of governance during the reign of the Medici, we went further down through Borgo Stratto, Piazza Garibaldi across river Arno to the shopping area on Corso Italia. The city has an inexplicable charm and is well worth an overnight stay.

Drive from Pisa to Genoa was through a series of tunnels cut into the mountains reminiscent of the road journey in Switzerland. Genoa, a port city, sloping down from the Appenine Mountains to the Ligurian Sea and stretching along the Coast for a considerably long distance looks very pretty from the highway as you approach the city. We had just enough time to visit the historic City Centre around the impressive Piazza de Ferrari boasting of a huge, round fountain in the centre as well as the Opera and the Palace of the Doges on its sides. Porta Soprano, the medieval gate to the walled city still in a very good condition stands close
by. However, the highlight of our visit was to see the medieval house of Christopher
Columbus who not only discovered America instead of India but also called the natives Red Indians.

The commercial and fashion capital of Italy, Milan’s historical centre is practically confined between the Castello Sfrozesco and the elegant Duomo. Via Dante, the street which connects the two, offers a delightful walk along a great number of Cafes, eateries and designer shops with live music played by street artists at every corner. Right next to the Duomo, an architectural marvel in the French-Gothic
style, is Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II on the other side of which is Piazza della Scala which has the statue of Leonard de Vinci in the centre and Opera House on the side. Unfortunately, it was not possible for us to see Vinci’s famous fresco the Last Supper as it required prior arrangement by appointment. The thought of the Supper, however, reminded us of our own gurgling stomachs. Since we had had enough of Pizzas and Pastas by then, we took some pains to locate an Indian restaurant, Angan, at Viale Monzo and had reasonably well cooked Chicken Curry, Lamb Roganjosh with Naan and Rice to our fill.

On the way from Milan to Liechtenstein, we took a turn on the spur of the moment towards Davos in Switzerland and we did not regret the decision. The drive itself through the pristine rise and fall of the Alps was well worth every penny. The pain of having had to pay Euro 40 just for transiting through the country got greatly offset by the sheer pleasure of the journey. Davos, having become famous for the annual event of the World Economic Forum, is a cute and serene hill station.
The crisp and dry air of Davos has also been a destination for those ailing with lung problems. Besides, it is a centre for major winter sports in Switzerland. After going around the city, we just sat by Davos Lake, a small lake by the Swiss standard, and had a great time watching people playing water sports, rowing, yachting or simply walking along its bank.

Liechtenstein was on the last leg of our journey. The sixth smallest country of the world, Liechtenstein is known quite unfairly more as a tax haven, particularly for parking the ill-gotten money, than the beautiful place it is nestled between the Rhine and the Alps, rising languorously from the riverside to the peak. Vaduz, the Capital of the Principality of Liechtenstein, is a pretty little place. Staedle, the centre and promenade in Vaduz, has modern and attractive pedestrian zones decorated with metallic sculptures and philatelic graphics at regular intervals besides shops, restaurants, hotels and museums. The castle of the Ruling Prince overlooks the Capital. Our stay in Liechtenstein was memorable also because of the pretty Guesthof Oberland in Triesenberg overlooking the expansive Rhine Valley where we had stayed and the crazy drive in the evening we took to Zürich just to meet some near and dear ones.

After hectic but exciting ten days spent on the road and in hotels, all of us looked forward to getting back home. Before I conclude, however, I’d like to suggest to those who plan a similar journey to always carry a duplicate car key and a pair of well adjusted shoes. Dislocation of the key for any reason, and often there is no reason, can really upset your plan and punish you monetarily. This has already happened to us twice during two separate trips. Once we had to pay heavily in Luxembourg to get the car opened but the second time in Pisa we were lucky as we could recover the key from the restaurant where we had dinner the previous evening. Though I am myself slow in imbibing good habits and learning from past stupidity, yet I’d like to advise strongly against ever venturing out with a pair of new, unbroken shoes. Believe me, it can make your life miserable and take all the fun out of sight seeing. Hey, I am talking out of personal experience, again suffered twice.

Anyway, bye for now and good luck!!!

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Flowers in Holland are in the Lisse region, also known as the “Dune and Bulb Region“. Lisse is also the home to the world famous and, perhaps, the largest flower garden, Keukenhof. [simage=1345,200,y,left,]A beautiful beach town, Noordwijk, nestled smugly on the North Sea at a convenient distance from Keukenhof naturally became our choice for stay in Holland. We were, indeed, lucky in our choice. Apart from a pristine beach flanked by the pretty and happening Koningin Wilhelmina Boulevard and a typical Dutch City Centre, Noordwijk was also the venue from where the annual flower parade that passes along Holland’s flower fields and the gorgeous Keukenhof gardens was to start on April 24.

Driving around and into Noordwijk, we came across never ending belts of Tulips in different colours and, occasionally, Daffodils vying with one another for prominence. Oh what a riot of colours it was! Literally, “ten thousand saw I at a glance tossing their heads in sprightly dance”. I felt and realized what Wordsworth must have felt on seeing the fields of Daffodils. I am sure the unforgettable sight is going to flash by whenever I am in a ‘vacant or a pensive mood’ and become the bliss of my solitude. [simage=1296,160,y,right,][simage=1279,160,y,right,][simage=1264,160,y,right,]And then my heart with pleasure filled when I witnessed the famous carnival of Flowers called the ‘Bloemencorso van de Bollenstreek’ along with the thousands come from far and wide. Standing on the Boulevard in front of the Palace Hotel, we saw the parade of a spectacular display of flower bedecked floats and an assortment of other florally decorated vehicles interspersed by marching bands. The parade  themed “Journey Through Europe” was to make a slow march from Noordwijk to Haarlem, passing the Keukenhof Garden on its way.

Visiting Keukenhof (literally, “Kitchen garden”) thereafter with its exquisitely laid flower beds in glorious colours and shapes was a feast for all our senses. It is said that about seven million flower bulbs are planted annually in the park and every year the exhibition is organized with a theme, the current year’s theme being “From Russia with Love.”[simage=1335,160,y,left,left][simage=1321,160,y,left,right]The Garden offers a variety of flower and plant shows in its three pavilions: Beatrix, Willem Alexander and Oranje Nassau, Art exhibitions, thematic parades, etc. Going atop the Windmill and getting a view of the Park on the one side and the multi-hued Tulip fields on the other from above is a delightful experience. [simage=1351,144,n,right,]The sheer beauty of this entire package of experience literally drained me to such a pleasant exhaustion that I had to lie down against the trunk of a tree to let the jostling emotions find their peace in my system.

Serenity and restraint define the Hague (Den Haag) just as it would define majority of the capital cities of the world. Perhaps, the serenity and restraint of such cities emanate from the place being the centre of governance. Location on the North Sea with the face of a beautiful and commercially well developed beach, Scheveningen, and lots of other attractions, including the Centrum (City Centre), characterize the Hague, but I would rather remember this city for being host to the Panorama Mesdag and the Madurodam in that order. [simage=1383,160,y,right,right]Visiting the Panorama was like a magical experience in time and space. It was simply mesmerizing. The depiction of the maritime life of the Hague has been done so ‘realistically’ and so deftly that I refuse to accept even today that the experience was largely an illusion. Despite knowing that I was looking merely at a series of paintings kept at an easily measurable distance, I felt as if I was looking sometimes miles into the sea and sometimes at certain tokens of life littered close by. The power of visual manipulation was so strong that almost everyone seemed to be in a state of wonder and admiration. I was definitely overwhelmed rather stunned by it all.

Though not of that scale and nature, yet the experience of looking at ‘all of Holland in miniature‘ at the Madurodam was almost equally wonderful. [simage=1369,144,y,left,left]Not the miniature replicas of the Schipol Airport or the canal houses of Amsterdam or the Parliament buildings of the Hague, the Harbours, the Railway Stations, the Bridges etc created with minute details on 1:25 scale amaze you so much as the engineering behind making the ships sail, planes move, windmills turn, trains run in this miniature world.

Well, visiting Amsterdam is like completing a ritual. The city never ceases to amaze you no matter how many times you have seen it in the past. The simple vibrancy of the place full of people at any time in the city centre is amusing. The magnificent Central Station built on reclaimed land consisting of three islands joined on the support of 8600 wooden piles seem to bear a silent and dispassionate witness to all the humdrum that goes on incessantly right under its nose. Amsterdam the name first used in 1215 obviously draws its source from river Amstel which along with a network of well regulated canals as well as the backup provided by the harbour continues to be a major mode of transportation. Rightly called ‘the Venice of the North‘, an unavoidable canal cruise reveals the true nature of the city. Cramped for space due to shortage of land, the waterways are lined up with gabled canal houses on both the sides. A hoisting beam on the upper facade of all the houses is a unique feature for transfer of goods to various floors due to limited space for movements, generally,  on the narrow, steep and winding stairs connecting them. It was in one such house at Prinsengracht that Ann Frank had remained holed up for two years during the Nazi occupation and written her famous Diary. Looking at the said house, our moods became so sombre and contemplative that we sat there on a bench ruminating for quite a while.[simage=1401,160,y,right,none][simage=1384,160,y,right,none][simage=1399,160,y,right,none]

Amsterdam offers a vast and variegated range from the sublime to the mundane, from art and culture to drug and sex. Though the city administrators are trying to play it down, yet the almost legal drug and sex remain the city’s major tourist attractions. The only changes I noticed from my visit a decade earlier was the missing red neon sign indicating ‘The Red Light District‘ prominently on the left of Damrak as you emerged from the Central Station and the silence of the recorded voice about the area during the canal cruise. Otherwise, everything in this place of vouyers’ delight seemed to be happening just as before. Scantily clad, age defying prostitutes displaying most of their ‘assets’ were still standing in the famous framed windows awash with red lights; stores full of hardcore videos, magazines and sex toys were still doing brisk business; sex clubs, pubs and theatres were still fairly crowded; and the roads, lanes and by-lanes were still thronged with hordes of tourists of both sexes from all nationalities. It is a unique place, sleazy but generally safe. There is no ‘coy mistress’ here, nothing to hide or feel embarrassed about. If you do so, it is your problem. We were surprised and also a bit amused to see batches of young Japanese boys and girls as if on an educational trip being led in and out of the Casa Rosso, a theatre known for its live sex shows.[simage=1409,640,c,center,]

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Be that as it may, we decided to take April kindly particularly after the snowy chill of a reluctantly receding winter. Berlin being not enough to contain our euphoric mood, we planned a road trip over the Easter holidays to the South West of Germany extending through the Black Forest into the Alsace region of France. Memories of the area based on glimpses during an earlier journey through the region had kindled enough desire already in us to explore it further in greater depth.

Though we drove from Berlin, our real journey started when we reached the first medieval town of Wuerzburg in the Franconian-Bavarian region of Germany on the famous Romantische Strasse or the Romantic Road. About 360 Km long from Wuerzburg in the north to the Alpine town of Fussen in the south, the Romantic Road was a major trade route in the Middle Ages. Not so much the road but the places it connects still retain much of their medieval character. Truly speaking, we found nothing greatly romantic about the road, at least, between Wuerzburg and Rothenburg o. d. T., the section of the road that we covered to get a taste of the much touted Romantische Strasse. There are far more scenic drives in other parts of Germany, as for example, the drive from Offenbach to Triberg in the Black Forest along the gurgling Gutach is simply out of this world. Yet when you visit the towns like Wuerzburg, Rothenburg etc that this road connects, you realize why this road is called what it is called.

[simage=759,144,y,right,][simage=755,144,y,right,]Located in the heart of the Franconian wine growing region, Wuerzburg is a cosy town known for its architectural marvels, excellent wines and gourmet food. The pride of Wuerzburg, undoubtedly, is the Residenz (Residence Palace). Rightly included in the UNESCO World Heritage List, the Residenz with its Square and Court Garden was designed by several of the leading Baroque architects of the times. History comes alive when you see the chamber with a neo-classical double bed and bedside tables in the Northern Imperial Apartment where Emperor Napoleon and his wife Louis Marie had slept in 1812. Napoleon is known to have visited the Residenz three times between 1806 and 1813. The grand staircase and the colourful frescoes in the palace have a stunning impact on the visitors. Heavily damaged during the Allied bombings of the the World War II, the restored palace bears a testimony to the outstanding craftsmanship of the  archaeologists and  historians involved in the process.

[simage=788,144,y,left,][simage=779,144,y,left,][simage=778,144,y,left,]Rothenburg o. d. T.(ob der Tauber) is perhaps the best preserved, fortified, medieval town of Germany.  Located on a plateau overlooking the Tauber river, the name “Rothenburg ob der Tauber” means, in German, “Red fortress above the Tauber”. The medieval cuteness of the town hits you as soon as you enter the walls of its old quarters. You feel like abandoning your transport and losing yourself into its cobbled lanes and by lanes flanked by centuries old buildings. The spacious square in front of the Rathaus called Marktplatz has an other worldly charm. Just hanging out there gives you an inexplicable pleasure and satisfaction.  A walk atop the covered fort wall offers a panoramic view of the city which should not be missed. You cannot also miss the local delicacy Schneeball (Snowball), which is egg dough fried and then either sprinkled with powered sugar or covered with chocolate. The medieval charm of the city is so irresistible that it has appeared in several films and fictions such as films like Pinocchio, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and fiction like Elizabeth Peters’ Borrower of the Night.

[simage=848,160,y,left,][simage=850,160,y,left,][simage=1516,160,y,left,][simage=862,160,y,left,]The choice of  visiting Triberg, Feldberg, Schluchsee in addition to the much visited Titisee and Freiburg in the Black Forest was a result of an internet search in the morning of our departure from Rothenburg. Oh, the world wide web has really made things so easy for us! I have already mentioned about the picturesque drive from Offenbach to Triberg along the Gutach river. In Triberg, the waters of the Gutach plunge over 160 meters in several cascades into the valley below thus making this to be Germany’s highest waterfall. It is a sight to see and delight in. We loved the experience of tiny water droplets flying across to play on the exposed surface of our skins. [simage=806,160,y,right,][simage=814,160,y,right,]Walk down and you would come across the largest Cuckoo Clock of the World. An entire hut has been converted into a clock. Incidentally, Triberg is the place where Cuckoo Clocks are originally manufactured. We made the University town of Freiburg our base and, then, undertook further forays into the Black Forest. The Altstadt in Freiburg is charming and pretty.  By virtue of being conveniently located both from Switzerland and France, it naturally attracts lots of tourists. A glass of beer at the bustling Hausbrauerei Feirling is an experience in itself.  An almost virgin lake at Schluchsee ( 3 Km long) was a delightful discovery as was the visit to the Skiing town of Feldberg, the highest point of the Alps in the Black Forest. Well, Titisee has an established pride of place on the touristic map and quite rightly so. Toy like layout of this township on the lake has a picture perfect setting. We tried to make friends with the ducks in the lake but they saw through us as we were trying to attract them without offering any sweetmeats in return. The Black Forest cakes available in the local bistros were absolutely fabulous to taste.

The most enchanting part of our trip, however, was a visit to Riquewihr in the Alsace region of France. Oh what a place! The layout  and structure of this medieval village cum town seem to have frozen in early middle ages.  Often considered as one of the most beautiful villages of France, Riquewihr appears unchanged over the centuries, and gives a great feeling for how a village in the region would have looked centuries ago. The place has retained much of its medieval fortification as well as a castle and every piece of town’s timbre framed architecture is miraculously preserved. [simage=884,160,y,left,][simage=889,160,y,left,][simage=887,144,y,right,][simage=894,144,y,right,]Nestled amidst sprawling and undulating vineyards, Riquewihr looks even more serenely medieval than Rothenburg o. d. T.  It is said that the place has been able to retain its old world charm largely because the people living their have retained their lifestyles through generations. Aroma of wine pervades the township and it is wine which drives its economy. Well, you have to be there to feel and experience what I am trying to communicate. Driving to Colmar, the administrative headquarters of the Alsace region, thereafter, turned out to be merely a routine exercise.[simage=896,144,y,left,][simage=907,144,y,right,]

Journey back home to Berlin after all these exposure to the senses was a sombre and tiring affair. By the time it finished, I was already in romance with the places I had visited.

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I was recently in India on home leave to celebrate the golden jubilee wedding anniversary of my ‘parents in law’. It was, indeed, a great event for which all their children and grand children as well as other relatives and friends had gathered. Married in a leap year on February 29, the anniversary couple had hardly any choice in celebrating the event on February 28 itself. The celebration even by a modest standard was on a grand scale. That aside, the occasion gave me a great opportunity to observe various relationships at work with all the attendant dynamics of egos, expectations and sacrifices. I also got an opportunity for self introspection, particularly when my wife, my brothers in law and their wives asked me to speak on the occasion. They all had certain thoughts and feelings to communicate to their parents for which they wanted me as a medium. Perhaps they thought I would be able to handle the job better as I was, quite rightly, a little removed from the direct relationship of blood. It is so strange that a relationship in law becomes a relationship of blood only in the future generation. Even your relationship with your wife becomes your relationship of blood through your children. Anyway, I had my own thoughts and feelings and this is what I spoke on the occasion:

“My dear Mother in Law and dear Father in Law.

A generation has come of age since I, your favourite Son in Law (unfortunately you do not have any choice), came into your lives and another generation, too, would have been on its way if some of your grand children were fortunate to start their conjugal lives as early as you did. Well, the point I want to make here is the parenthesis put by Law in our relationship, that is to say, its very foundation being defined by a well established socio-legal system. Though I shook off the legal definition and its consequent limitation in our relationship shortly after initial years of shared awkwardness, yet the world outside and even the people present on this special occasion would still say, ‘ there stands their son in law speaking on the Golden Jubilee of their wedding’.

Well let them say what they may, you and I know where we stand vis a vis each other.

That said, let me add that it is not easy to shake off the Law all together. I stand here before you as a lawfully authorized representative of all your children to speak on their behalf and convey what they thought would be emotionally too overwhelming for them to convey.

So Mummy and Papa, we all want to start by wishing you a very very happy 50th wedding anniversary!

There are so many thoughts to convey and feelings to share on this precious occasion that it is well nigh impossible to put them in words. Nevertheless, we would make a feeble attempt to share at least some of them.

Mummy, you are priceless. You are our strength, our life force, our anchor. We would have been lost without your unquestioning support especially at those times when the waters were really turbulent in each of our lives. You have stood by us like a rock, a steadfast beacon – solid and focused. I am sure you must have had your moments of weakness and desperation but you never ever let us feel weak or desperate. Though we have often labelled you as an ‘iron lady’, yet we have always known how soft and tender you are from within. I think you know whenever we do that, we are only being indulgent and taking liberties with your motherly kindness.

Maa, no action of yours in our collective memories has ever been ordinary. We have always noticed you taking extra care of, sparing a special thought for and investing a loving touch in everything you do for us or for others. And lest you should forget, we want to reassure you that we (Prakash, Anuja and Pankaj)  still remember your ‘kharpa’(wooden sandal) whenever we have a tendency to digress from the rightful path.

Papa, your ease and friendliness not only make you the King of Tamuria (native village) but also the king of our hearts. Yet the right title for you, according to us, would be to call you the king of contentment and selfless generosity. Your sense of contentment with little and your belief in generosity as well as abundance have taught us to find joy even in the simplest of things and the flimsiest of gestures. You have been a true sportsman not only in the field but also in life. We have learnt from you that a solo run in life has no meaning – the life is complete only when it is inclusive , not only of you and your children, but also of your kith and kin, of the fellow human beings.

We know you have indulged us and you have always been non-judgemental. In fact, your indulgence and non judgemental qualities have spoilt Shantu (Prakash), Baby (Anuja) and Pappu (Pankaj) so much that their tails are still not straight even after decades of having kept them in the pipes. When it comes to that, I agree with you, the dog’s tails cannot be straightened by keeping it in a pipe even for years.

Well, Mummy and Papa, together you complete and complement each other. The love between you two as a couple is something which we quote to others as an ideal love. Need we say that you have been made for each other. Papa, we have seen you taking initiatives and, Mummy, we have seen you completing them whatever be the cost or consequences. Quite a few of your initiatives have been impulsive and, apparently, impractical, but due to your faith in the fundamental goodness of things and your focus being primarily humane, you have generally been able to achieve a positive outcome.

You have always taught us by your own examples. We have seen you being grateful for the smallest of favours by others and also seen you being without expectation of returns for favours done. Though we might have been slow in picking up the threads, we want to assure you that we are proud of you as our parents and we love you. We are also happy for our children for being around to learn from you and imbibe your values. We want both of you to hold on for us to celebrate the diamond jubilee of your being together.

We are grateful to all the near and dear ones, all the friends for being their for Mummy and Papa through their pain and pleasure and we thank you all from the bottom of our hearts.”

Well, that’s it. That’s what I said and let me assure you it was not easy. Not very surprisingly, their grand children did not have any such problem. They spoke with natural ease and tonnes of feelings. Unfortunately, I do not have the texts of what Chandini, their eldest grand daughter, and Rohan, their youngest grand son, spoke but I have the SMSed text of the rhyme that Anubhav, my younger son,  recited on the occasion- a rhyme he had composed only a short while ago on his handy itself:

You have taught us dignity,

You have taught us pride,

We have learnt to be responsible.

We have learnt the difference between wrong and right.

We have learnt selflessness,

We have learnt to empathize,

Being a shoulder to cry on was never enough,

You’ve taught us to reach out and embrace others in their plight.

You never hesitated to pull us up,

You never blindly took our side,

You never preached goodness to us,

It almost seems like you never tried.

It was enough just being around you

To learn all one should about life.

This night is not yet over,

We’re already looking forward to anniversary 75!!!

Now let us get on and enjoy the party,

And though you might not admit it,

I know I’m your ‘sona nati’.

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In the Times of India dated Feb. 16, 2010, the following news item appeared.

Film featuring Anindyee had scene of cafe, terrorist
Snehal Sonawane Sawant | TNN

Pune: The eerie connect between events in Anindyee Dhar’s life and her tragic death in the German Bakery blast (Feb.14, 2010) continues.
A day before the blast, the 19-year-old had asked for the definition of death in her poetry class at Fergusson College. Now, a yet-to-be-completed film by a direction student, which featured Anindyee, has a scene showing her sitting in a cafe with friends when a terrorist walks in…
Recalling the scene in the film, Pranjal Dua a student of the Film and Television Institute of India (FTII) says, ‘‘She is sitting in a cafe with friends when a terrorist, who could pass off as any other customer, walks in. It is uncanny that something very similar had to happen in her life.’’ Dua could not complete the film for some reasons, but is determined to do so. ‘‘My priority now is to complete the film. I will dedicate it to Anindyee’s memory,’’ he says.

What do you make of this news item? Is it a mere coincidence or is there something more to it? Was the subconscious of Anindyee a day before in the classroom telling her something about the death that was just around the corner ? Or, did the scene in the incomplete film showing her sitting in a cafe with friends when a terrorist walked in have a clairvoyant quality or a prophetic value? Was it a preview of an actual event still buried in future and an example of the time-space continuum? There are so many questions, ifs and buts that I feel completely lost. But, the mystery remains.

I have had a fair share of ‘strange’ experiences or incidents in my life. An experience or an incident like premonition of an event that really occurs, foreboding about something which actually goes wrong, telepathic communication such as you think of a person and there he/she is (either physically or on telephone), a feeling of deja vu at a place that you visit, etc., is not very uncommon. I am sure this must have happened to you as well, often without your noticing it.  The rational me, however, generally dismisses them as mere coincidences, but the mystic me, which does exist deep inside in spite of all the rationalizations, throws me into a spin at their occurrences and forces me to recognise their extra sensory nature. I would like to share two such experiences that I had when I was a full adult, I mean no longer an imaginative and fancy free child, and occupied a position of considerable responsibility.

The first happened when I was the Police Chief in Aurangabad district of Bihar in 1986-’87. Aurangabad, because of the naxalite problems, had become the wild west. Unfortunately, it continues to be so rather worse even today. Carnage based on caste and class conflicts was fairly common. In fact, I was airlifted to Aurangabad from Patna within hours of the Darmia carnage on an unequivocal but verbal promise that I would be recalled exactly after six months. Once there, I had never worked harder and the impact was shortly visible on the law and order situation in the district. Quite a few arrests of hardcore naxalites were made and prosecutions launched. Appreciations poured in from all quarters. The day I completed the target period of six months, I reminded all my bosses and other decision makers of their promise and requested them to recall me immediately. When the going was good no one was bothered and my requests were conveniently ignored.  Meanwhile, almost simultaneously, certain related developments took place which I would leave out in the current context. Well, I  found myself gradually possessed of strange, inexplicable and often scary forebodings.  Then,  I saw a dream one night that an Express Train passing through the Grand Chord line of the district  was occupied as well as manned by people who looked living but were actually dead. It was an eerie sight of life-in-death or death-in life. Soaked in sweat, I woke my wife up and told her what I had dreamt and how certain I felt that something terrible was going to happen. Only a few days thereafter, when I had just retired after an awfully gruelling day, the telephone by my bed rang and I knew this was it.  Mind you, ringing of the telephone at odd hours is not unusual at the home/office of a Police officer but this was different and, believe me, I knew it. A short while later, I was at the twin village of Dalelchak-Baghaura amidst 42 dead bodies of unsuspecting people who had been butchered mercilessly by the left-wing extremists. I have goose bumps even today when I recall what a nightmarish experience it was.

Before I move on to share my second experience, I would like to pause and ask you what was the first one about. How come I was getting such strange forebodings of a horror that was to unfold shortly! Was there any message for me in the experience and, if yes, what could I have done to change what was already taking shape in the future  just as what could  Anindyee or any of her friends have done to recognize the foreboding and take preventive steps to save her life? I am at a loss…

The second experience was qualitatively different from the first one in terms of its so-called extra sensory dimension. It happened in 1994 when I was pursuing the accused fugitives of the Mumbai Blast Cases of March 1973 as the head of the Special Task Force of the CBI in Mumbai. Using the time tested technique of getting information about the underworld from the underworld, we obtained some leads about the presence of an important absconder in Hyderabad. The information had come from one of the top leaders of the gang based in Dubai and it was nothing more than a contact telephone number which the fugitive was occasionally using. The Source had promised that he would give us further details once we reached Hyderabad.  I reached Hyderabad along with two of my best officers, Raman and Devendra. My boss also joined us from Delhi. On being contacted, the Source informed us that the fugitive in question had already fled Hyderabad but he would keep track and let us know his next hideout. We realized then that the Dubai guy was, apparently, playing a cat and mouse game with us. It is a long story but I would cut it short. The operation had failed but I was not ready to let go. Against the will of all, I decided to check out the place where the telephone was installed. It turned out to be the ground floor flat of a respectable person working at a senior position in a Birla company. The phone was in the personal use of the family which could not have had any connection, apparently, with the type of person I was looking for. The family was quite hospitable. In course of polite conversation with the inmates, however, I gathered that the phone in question was  used, off and on,  for receiving calls by his neighbour, a Maulvi Saheb, who lived with family on the first floor. Strangely, the Maulvi saheb had received a call early that morning  after which he looked visibly worried. He had vacated the flat shortly thereafter and left in a hurry with bag and baggage. Needless to say how stupid we felt standing in front of the empty flat. It was already quite late in the evening and time for us to wind up the hectic day. But, deep within, I had a strong hunch that it was not yet over. On an impulse, I asked both Raman and Pardeshi to stay back there for the night for my sake and arranged for them to sit the night out in the drawing room of the flat where the telephone was installed. Of course, they found my instructions hare brained but out of loyalty and discipline they kept quiet about it. My boss, perhaps, also thought so but he, too, indulged me. We left for the guest house leaving the two officers behind. While leaving I unconsciously registered an auto rickshaw stopping at some distance near a cross road. I reached the guest house and even before I had changed I heard a knock at my door. It was an excited Raman informing me of having caught the fugitive. On reconstruction of the story, we found that the fugitive had, as expected, been warned by his Dubai boss and instructed to leave the place forthwith. Accordingly, he had relocated himself at a safe place.  At around the same time when I was making my decision to deploy my officers purely out of intuition, he had an irresistible urge to go and see if there was really something or he was merely being pushed around so that he remained insecure and on the tenterhooks of the gang. Instead of using his own car, as a precautionary measure, he hired an auto and got dropped at a safe distance from his previous place of stay. He did not notice any activity at the place but still out of curiosity, he started walking towards  the house to have a closer look.  To complete the sequence, Raman and Pardeshi, who were already dead tired by then,  went out to meet the call of nature before settling in for the night. They noticed a tall, hefty guy walking leisurely towards the house. On an impulse, they hid themselves behind the boundary wall. When the guy came closer, finding certain similarities in the body structure, they pounced and immobilised him. The guy was so taken aback that he immediately blurted out who he was.

Let me take a pause again and raise some more issues. In the second case, I had what my wife calls passionate intention to nab the terrorists responsible for the serial blasts. I also took affirmative action.  But was that enough? Did not a sense of anticipation, an intuitive decision based on a purely personal hunch affect the outcome? Moreover, how do we explain the restlessness which drove the fugitive to go back to a place from where he had just run away? Well, did the universe conspire to fill me up with intuitions and him with self-destructive restlessness?

There are, perhaps, no answers to these questions. We may have theories, we may also have explanations born out of our rational thoughts, but we cannot have straight answers. After all, such experiences are in the realm of the  extra-sensory where ordinary rules , possibly, do not apply. Yes, what we can have is a strong intention and create an inner quietude or peace to hone up our intuitive skills and hope for the universe to conspire in our favour. So the mystery continues…

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