Silly Ways Minds Work: ramblings about Oliver, Gypsies etc

A few years ago, I had met an interesting guy called Oliver on the internet. We met up one evening and had fantastic conversation. We never met up again, despite my attempts. Last night he told me that it was because that meeting convinced him that this would lead to more than just a simple friendship or simple fun, and he wasn't ready for a relationship.
How utterly stupid!

Oliver is a very intersting guy. He is an anthropologist and his research deals with the societies and history of the Aboriginal people of Australia. It was funny to hear an Austrian guy speaking English with an Australian accent. Although based in Vienna, he was often shuttling between Austria and Australia because of his work.
He is interesting for another reason. Part of his family is Roma/Gypsy. There has been a lot of racial discrimination against the Roma people in Europe since centuries. Of course the Roma people also are notorious for wanting to stay away from the mainstream and for often being not respectful about the law. Hitler wanted to eliminate them as well with his concentration camps. They still have a bad reputation. Tourists to Italy and Spain are warned against Gypsies (Gitanos), because many of these people selling stuff to tourists, or begging, or offering to tell your future, also make you unknowingly part with your wallet or other belongings. Tourists are told to avoid them and some tourists even scream in protest if they are surrounded by a group of Gypsies... that seems to work. There are huge Roma populations in Central and Eastern Europe-- Romania, Bulgaria and Hungary. There is still a lot of prejudice and discrimination against them including by educated members of the main society. Some members of the Roma communities have become very rich, and the member of the mainstream societies resent the fact that rich Roma like to display their wealth and apparently have houses of garish colours (at least in Hungary). One even hears educated young people making prejucial racist comments about the Roma. The Roma societies have contributed to the music of Central and Eastern European countries in an enormous way. That is one area where everyone gratefully acknowledges this contribution too. Even in Andalucia in Spain, Flamenco was heavily influenced by the Gitanos.
Since I have already started this side story about the Roma people, let me relate another incident. I thought I was a bit late for my flight to India in Dec, and I took a taxi. The taxi driver started making conversation and asked me where I'm from. When I said India, he said well actually he's also from there. I was increculous and asked him "Kahan se?" (Hindi: where from?), but he didn't seem to understand. Then he told me that his ancestors were from India, and naively I asked when they had moved to Europe... he said many many centuries ago-- now it finally clicked. I said I wanted to hear some Roma music and that pleased him very much. He put on a few pieces. Some of them were very good indeed, and some not so much. It is interesting that even after so many centuries, they are very aware of their roots.
Back to Oliver. Well, so it was quite interesting that his family married into the Romas, because the latter is especially very clannish and frowns upon (sometimes violently) about inter-marriages. I don't remember what the story was, and it is possible that I never got a chance to ask him. He has a huge family of uncles, aunts, cousins et al., and they meet in Graz where most of his family is based and his maternal grandmother also used to live. His grandmother died recently (I don't remember whether she was the Roma relative), and he had been very close to her. The extended family all knew that he is gay, and (if I remember correctly) mainly because of his powerful grandmom's support, they were all ok with it. He love to go to these family gatherings. I don't know whether it was his whole family or just the Roma part of the family that had Romanian/Hungarian connections.
Oliver and I were already having long conversations on the internet about all kinds of things before we met. It was a great evening. I think I was to travel to Spain soon after that. And he went to Australia for a few months. We didn't manage to meet for a while, and then whenever I suggested meeting up, it never happened. We still had long conversations on the internet, and he seemed to be enjoying them, but he was always vague when I suggested meeting up.
Yesterday I saw him online, and said hello. He had visited Kolkata recently for a conference and said that despite the smog etc, he had really liked the city. We were chatting about other things when I mentioned in passing that it was really sad that although I enjoyed meeting him, we never met up again. This is when he surprised me:

...i dont know what was wrong with me then. really. it had'nt anything to do with you. really. i was a bit confused, not ready for something serious. well, its complicated in a word. but you were nice. ... i know when something might result in something serious and when something/somebody is just 4 fun. do u know what i mean? and i was pretty sure i would have ended up in something more than fun or pure friendship. and that was the wrong time. or at least i then thought it was the wrong time. anybody makes mistakes, or makes the wrong decisions. i am the master in that, I suppose...

This is so stupid! I don't think too much when I meet someone-- I either like the person and would like to meet him again, or am not so keen about him... things then develop gradually whatever way they can. I'm flattered and at the same time sad to know that he avoided meeting me ever again was because he felt it would have too much of potential and wouldn't be a simple friendship or fun. Oliver is a nice guy, not gorgeous, but rather ok to look at, and as I have mentioned several times, really intersting to talk to. Meeting him only once, I had never though so far ahead to think of relationships. It would have been nice to know him at least as a friend. But too much thinking on his part spoiled the whole thing. What a shame.
And now I'm moving to India and he to Australia.
We decided to meet up this week or next week and I'm looking forward to another evening of intense and interesting conversation.

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Viennese Waltz: Regenbogen Ball

The Viennese winter is very happening: it is the ball season. Last year I had been to the BOKU Ball organized at the Hofburg palace by the Agriculture University of Vienna; and this year Fabien and I checked out the Regenbogen Ball ("Rainbow Ball") a queer ball at a hotel near the Schönbrunn Palace. Last's year's trip was from the lab-- a kind of leaving party of my colleague, Dieter, who was moving to Paris. And since I'm leaving Vienna soon, I was determined not to miss probably the last chance of going to a gay traditional ball.

Starting with the New Year's Kaiserball (Imperial Ball), the official ball season runs until Aschermittwoch (Ash Wednesday), the first day of lent, sometime in Feb or early March. However, if Ash Wednesday falls early, like this year (6th Feb), there are so many annual balls in a season, that these always run well into March. [One of the famous off-season balls is the AIDS charity ball, the Life Ball, in early summer-- the largest such event that attracts a lot of famous personalities (Elton John is a regular for example) . But the Lifeball is costume ball, and they encourage you to come in garish creative costumes. There is an associated fashion show as well, and a famous designer (e.g. Donatella Versace) is associated with it each year. But I'm not blogging about these non-traditional balls.]

The traditional balls are very suave and elegant. One has to be in a suit and tie (or long dress/evening gown for women) at the minimum. For men, evening dress with a dinner jacket /tuxedo, without or with tails, with bowtie, cummerbund etc are preferred and occasionally essential. Many places (I guess, most places) allow traditional/national costume as well... and for the Austrians, it is the tracht (with lederhosen) for men and drindl for women.

These balls are held in grand settings, at the imperial Hofburg Palace, the Rathhaus etc. And of course, being a ball, one is supposed to dance. Nowadays floors or salsa/latin dance floors are also included in these events, but by far the most important and most popular is ballroom dancing, and the most popular dance being the Wiener Walzer or the Viennese Waltz.

Dancing and Me?

I have never been much of a dancer. When I was in college in Kolkata, a school friend of mine, Samarjit, was learning German at the Goethe Institut, but the main reason he had joined the course was to socialize... and the dance parties. I was of course a shy kid at that time and big-time inhibited in general. Plus I wasn't (and still am not) into Western popular music. And dance parties didn't appeal to me all that much. After I moved to Pune, our department had quite a few dance parties, and I used to go there, and watch my friends dancing and having a good time. I was tempted to join them, but I was still too inhibited and found it kinda embarassing because I didn't know what to do, how to dance. Occasionally I was dragged onto the floor (and given instructions as to what to do), but it didn't last for long and I managed to wriggle out. Same in IISc and Tübingen. In Heidelberg I went to my first gay parties, and after the initial hesitation, I tried it out. Now that was fun... there were so many gorgeous guys around and dancing with and around them was great. I still wasn't (and even now am not) too keen about the music, but then I could feel the rhythm and move my legs, body and hands, and that's after all, all that is required. I wouldn't say I am a party animal in Vienna, but I do occasionally go clubbing to gay places with friends and do dance-- and enjoy it.
When I got to know Fabien two and a half years ago, I was his only gay friend (in fact I still am among his few close gay friends) and often a mentor in the gay world. He suggested we go to the annual gay ball, the Regenbogen Ball. That was 2006. I said no way-- I don't know even the basics of ballroom dancing.

BOKU Ball and Dancing Lessons
My colleague, Dieter, was to move to Paris in spring last year and Karen was to leave in another half a year. Karen and Dieter suggested we go to a traditional Viennese Ball as a lab outing-- it could be a kind of leaving party for Dieter. I said why not, though it had to be at a grand place-- I prefer the Hofburg Palace. We decided on the BOKU Ball, as being organized by a university, it would be less formal, with more young people and cheaper for the students (i.e. Karen, Dieter and Martin). I wasn't too worried, as I had no intention of dancing... hanging around in the gorgeous Hofburg Palace rooms with elegantly dressed people would be sufficient for me. My Argentinian friend, Leo, was also going with his friends, so apart from the lab people, I'd have company too.
Yet, it would be nice to be able to dance too. So on an impulse, I checked out dance courses, zeroed in on one nearby offering classes soon-- the same week-- and at convenient times, and called Fabien to ask if he would be interested to join in the course as well. He'd have to be spontaneous enough to decide at such a short notice and spontaneity certainly isn't Fabien's strong point, althought he has improved a lot in my company. He surprisingly agreed and we signed up to a course for singles. Unfortunately there were only three classes before my scheduled ball, and we didn't get to learn much before that.
The ball was fun, but I only danced at the disco. Anton suggested I try to waltz with his wife, but I stupidly enough didn't go for it. The Hofburg was really marvellous, and the ball and particularly the waltzes seemed like great fun.

The beginner's course taught us the basics of some 12 dances including the Slow Waltz, Foxtrot, Viennese Waltz, Cha-Cha-Cha, Rumba, Boogie and very elementary Tango and Samba. I have a problem with counting (or following) the rhythm sometimes, and certainly find it difficult to figure out what dance goes with what music. But I enjoyed the classes. We were made to change partners very often. Some were good fun, some bad, some boring, some indifferent, some unfriendly. I realized once again that dancing is very sexual for me-- I enjoy dancing with men, rather than dancing itself... and this was of course dancing with opposite-sex partners only. Fabien was also frustrated "dancing with fat women"-- it came to a height exactly a year ago, on Valentine's Day... we had the dance class and hated that fact that even on this day we had to dance with "fat women". So we went to the Villa to have a quick dinner before-- to add at least some gay touch to the day. Fabien didn't even complete the course.
I enjoyed some of the dances, but my favourite was the Viennese Waltz. Not only do I like the music very much, but unlike the slow waltz, it is much much faster.
We could have gone to the regular balls of the dance school, but we never did. I was going to Paris that summer, so I couldn't take the next level of course, and Fabien was NOT interested in "dancing with fat girls" any more... he even didn't turn up for the classes in last couple of weeks. And there was no practice until I decided to go to the Regenbogen Ball.

Planning and Preparation
It was a shame that I enjoyed the Wiener Walzer (Viennese waltz), but never had any formal occasion to dance it. After I move India in spring, I doubt I'll be attending balls, so I reckoned I had to do it before I left Europe. So not much time left. As I have said, dancing with women isn't as much fun for me, so a gay ball would be better. The best option, hence, was the Regenbogen Ball. It was on a Saturday too. And this was probably the last chance of going there. Even if I visit Europe/Vienna afterwards, I doubt, it'll be in the cold winter. I had to do it now! So after I got back from India, I started calling people to see whether they'd be interested-- if enough of my gay friends joined in, it could be a leaving party for me. Unfortunately, most of my friends were either away or not well or too busy that weekend, and it was only Fabien and I who decided to go for the ball. Leo had bought tickets too, but he got a cold. Another friend of mine, Gernot, was going to be there. He is in a semi-professional dance group as a serious hobby, and their group would be performing the opening dances at the ball. In fact it was while talking to him that I got the idea of going to the ball.
The problem was that both Fabien and I were rusty with our dancing skills that were shaky to begin with. We decided to have a few practice sessions before the ball. I had a cd of the waltzes composed by the Strausses. We practised a few times at Fabien's place. The first practice was a disaster. We called Leo, but learnt that he was ill and wouldn't even be able to make it for the ball. The second practice was better. We were supposed to meet before the ball for the last practice. That morning I was talking to Christof and trying to urge him to come along, when he suggested that although he wasn't in the mood for the ball, he'd love to give me a crash course. I went to his place, and we tried it and I was confident of the Wiener Walzer once again. And after that the practice with Fabien was much smoother too.

The Regenbogen Ball and Wiener Walzer
The ball was on the 26th of Jan, a Saturday, in the evening. People were mostly in suits or in evening dress. Many people were in tails. Some in drag, and a few in costume. Christof had warned us that we should reach sufficiently ahead of time to get good positions to see the Eröffnung (the Opening of the ball) that was to be at 9pm. We nevertheless got late, and had to negotiate the crowds and crane our neck to see the opening dances. There was a group from the organizers and also the Gernot's group that performed the opening dances. And then the floor was thrown open to the public. The stupid Fabien had bought new dress shoes the same day, and obviously his feet were killing him. We danced several the Wiener Walzers... although I had practised a the steps of a few more dances with Christof, we didn't venture into any of those dances. But the Wiener Walzer was good fun. We met Gernot later (it was difficult to recognize him because of his "Japanese" costume... a part of his performance), and he made a date with me-- we were to meet at the main ballroom at 2am and dance. He'd have to get out of his costume into tails first.
Fabien and I danced, checked out the other stuff (like the Jazz), the other floors, and of course the guys. I met a few people I knew. At midnight there was the Quadrille, where everybody gathers together on the floor in paired rows facing each other. A director directs what to do and a dance is created. The pairs dance with each other and also with the neighbours. It's supposed to be good fun. Unfortunately we and our neighbours messed up and created chaos at our end. But it was fun. We also spent some time at the disco downstairs. Fabien left at 2am. He said he was tired, and also his feet were extremely painful. I waited for Gernot.
Gernot and I started dancing at 2:30am. Gernot is of course an expert dancer. Although I was leading when dancing with Fabien-- it seems more natural for me (and Fabien prefers to be led), Gernot's an expert dancer and it would make much more sense for him to lead. It was a fabulous experience. Waltz, as you might know, is based on a rhythm of three beats. The Wiener Walzer is faster and the very Viennese supposedly make the last two beats slightly quicker than the first one. You make a half turn (180°) with each complete rhythm (in the slow waltz you make a 1/4th or 1/3rd turn). So one goes round and round and at the same time moving around the floor. On a crowded floor the one who leads has to take care to avoid bumping into others (very difficult as I realized when I was leading Fabien) as you navigate around the floor. One could turn right or left, but the right turn is easier, so most people do that... we were never taught the left turn, in fact. At the end of a dance, one's head is spinning because of the turns. Gernot being an excellent dancer made navigation seem like cake walk, we did left turns as well, and what I enjoyed most were the high-speed spins. I hadn't known about these, but instead of following the regular steps, the dancing pair can just spin extremely fast with the music. I would never be able to do that and keep track of the room, but it the Gernot is an expert. It was just fun to let go. We danced 4-5 dances and then went for a drink and a chat. Then Gernot went to his other friends. There were some music programs as well. The stuff was to end at 5am. I spent some time at the disco and came up again at 4pm. I didn't know people so I was just sitting watching other people dance. At 4.30am, I noticed Harald, Christof's ex-boyfriend, standing alone, so I went to him and asked whether he wanted to dance. We danced the last waltzes as well as other simpler stuff towards the end. The last dance was great fun too... called a marching dance, where people jump around the room in one direction and then suddenly someone changes direction and everybody follows too. This ends by couples going through a "tunnel" formed by other couples joining hands above... the couple in the tunnel joins the tunnel when he gets out of it. It was good fun.

Gernot saw me dancing and came to me after the marching dance ended. Since he lives quite close to my place, we took the underground together. I got back home at 5:45am or so after a most delightful night.

I wish this weren't my first and last Regenbogen Ball. I wish I had taken dancing classes earlier and had been to a few of these balls. But I am happy that I decided to do this before leaving Vienna. It would have been nicer if more of my friends had joined in, but it was fun nevertheless.

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Nomadism, Changes, the Future and Related Ramblings

No, my dear blog readers, I still haven't abandoned you. It's been ages since I've posted. My inseparable companion Mme Procrastination is to blame. There's a lot that's been happening and so I should have had a lot to blog about. But then that's where the overwhelming influence of Mme P. brings about postponements.
Anyways, I'll try to at least complete this post and hopefully this make me resume postings again.
If you've read my "About Me" section, you know that I'm a nomad and have moved all my life. The next move is around the corner-- I move to the City of Boiled Beans at the end of March.

The Basics
My father had a transferable job, and so we moved ever 3-4 years, especially during my early childhood. I was born in Kolkata (as was my brother), and we moved to Bhubaneswar when I was 4-4.5years old. We lived there for 3.5 years and then moved back to Kolkata. The next move was to Delhi-- 5 years and 2 months-- to date that remains my longest continuous stay at one place. When we moved back to Kolkata in 1990, I was 16. I finished my school there, and my BSc as well. I was determined to leave the city, and I moved to Pune in 1994 when I got through a coveted combined entrance exam. Thence to Bangalore for my PhD in summer 1996. My supervisor moved to Delhi, and I quit and moved to Tübingen to restart my PhD in Nov 1998. Our lab moved to Heidelberg in Oct 2001, and this time I moved with the lab and completed my thesis there. I moved to Vienna in March 2003.

Changes-- Pune & Panch-Premikayen
As a kid, it was both distressing and exciting to move. Distressing to leave old friends and contacts, familiar surroundings, but exciting to embark on new adventures. I used to be a shy kid, and so making friends wasn't that easy... so I guess there was a large bit of apprehension. However, there certainly was the excitement and hope of starting out all over again, of doing better, being a better person, getting a clean slate. I did try to change myself every time I moved, and these changes became more pronounced from Pune onwards. Pune was the first time I was staying away from my parents-- in fact far away. I was independent, and had to take care of my affairs in toto.... except of course the living expenses that my father would send every month. But I was also 20. Pune changed me. Most of my classmates were a bunch of fun-loving people, and they dragged me into it. My roommate and classmate, BJ, probably had the biggest hand in bringing about this change. He was the complete opposite of me-- extroverted, friendly, popular, and very goodlooking. Then there were my female friends-- my so-called panch premikayen (five lovers)-- Fish, Chicken, Mutton, Prawn (HRJ) and Kalakand. It started with Fish. There was and exam and she was mugging up stuff (moving here lips soundlessly) and someone commented that she was like a fish in an aquarium... the name stuck. I used to get along quite well with her and was consequently was teased about her. Now the best way to get rid of teasing is to join them-- I gave them more fuel- "See it's simple: Bongs love fish". Latha was a loud girl-- hyper-extroverted. Her best friend was Uma and I got along very well with both of them. Latha protested that I only loved Fish. I said "Well, as Bong, I do love fish, but I like chicken and mutton better". She selected the former for herself and the latter for Uma. HRJ, had to be given a name too. She'd once brought prawn-achar for a few of us, and so that was a good name for her. Then Kanchan, a good friend of HRJ and mine, but from a different course, also wanted to be in my "harem" but she being a vegetarian and sweet-lover, called herself Kalakand. Anyways, for a guy who was shy and was uncomfortable talking to girls (despite being gay), this was progress. By the time we finished and left Pune, I was quite a popular guy within the group, and I am very much in touch with quite a few of these people.
IISc did change me as well, though not all that much. I developed good friendships, became more confident, and of course, as I have blogged before, accepted that I'm gay.

Massive Changes-- the European Influence
Life in India was quite protected, despite all those pretences of my independence. There were hostels where one lived, there were messes where one ate, medical facilities within the institute if one fell ill, dhobis and "press"-wallas in the campus, plus there were friends, professors, relatives, friends of parents, whom one could consult at the drop of a hat. Finances and tastes were meagre, and so most of the time was spent in the campus at work or with friends. There might have been an occasional trip to the restaurant, to a movie, or to a happening area.

Europe was this whole new thing. And it completely changed me. I had a close friend from my Pune days, Jagan, in Tübingen, at the same institute... in fact it was in consultation with him that I had moved there, and I stayed with him for the first few months. He had his own tensions, problems etc, and staying with someone in a small room in a shared accomodation is never easy. Our relations became kinda hot & cold. Even with all the help Jagan extended, I was still on my own. In the UK or in the US (or perhaps even in Australia), the Indian community is so huge, that a newly arrived desi has no trouble entering the ghetto and remaining there. This was certainly not so here. There was of course Sunanda, but we didn't get along with her initially (she is one of my closest friends now-- she's in Berkeley, but we have telephone conversations for hours several times a month). Later Rajeeb, Tressa, and others arrived in Tübingen, but then they themselves had to find their feet on the ground. And of course there was the gay thing, that I had to explore.

I had a lovely studio apartment with a huge balcony. Before leaving India, my mother had given me a very hurried crash course in cooking, but honestly, the only thing I could really cook was an egg (boiled, fried, scrambled, omelette). While I was at Jagan's, he showed me how to make fried rice, and I also tried cooking (quite successfully) a chicken dish. One doesn't really need to cook, as one can survive on bread, eggs, hams/salamis, fruits, frozen pizzas and various other frozen stuff, or the delicious Turkish Döner Kebaps. But I'm a scientist-- experimenting is my job-- and I love food and I'd been missing Indian food (there was a decent Indian resaturant in Tübingen), so the most logical thing was to try and experiment. Ralf was a new postdoc who joined soon after I moved to my apartment. His girlfriend was in France and since he didn't know people either, we hung out together. He had a car and he used to give me a ride to the supermarket on weekends, and I used to invite him for dinner to try out my experiments. He wasn't experienced in Indian food, so had no idea what things were supposed to taste like-- a perfect candidate! With bawarchi.com and phone calls to my mother, and repeated experiments I did manage to become a decent cook over the years.

Travel was another thing that I got hooked to, and I've travelled quite a bit. Germany, Austria, the UK, the Netherlands, Switzerland, Italy, Spain, Greece, Hungary... much more than most Indians I know here. Most of these trips have been on my own, and I prefer it that way.

Getting comfortable with being gay and enough to coming out to friends and parents is something I've already blogged about. Here in Vienna, I am a regular at the gay parade. Many of my friends are gay, and we often go out to gay cafes/bars.

I also think I have become more accepting, more open-minded, less conservative, and have broader horizons. That is of course, in part because of becoming more mature, but also because of my stay in Europe and interacting with completely different cultures, values, outlooks, and meeting really diverse kinds of people.

My personality has changed in other ways as well. I am more confident, more self-assured, independent, know more or less what I want, what I like. I am not afraid of people (well most of the times anyway).
I certainly have better dress-sense than when I first arrived in Europe.

The Itch to Move
Although I like Vienna, know the place quite well, have a lot of friends, lots of favourite places to go to, and enjoy life here, I feel a strong urge to move. In a few weeks, it'll be five years that I've lived here, and five years is a big psychological barrier. I need a change, a new adventure, a new slate. I am a bit bored with the routine. I want to move on.

My current contract is coming to an end as well, and it cannot be renewed in its current form. Leonie, in the neighbouring institute, likes me very much and was extremely keen to have me join her group. But that would've been my last option, though it might have made a bit of sense professionally. I really wanted to move on, I want change.

The City of Boiled Beans
I had applied for a position in Bangalore in November, they interviewed me telephonically three days later, and offered me the position after two weeks. They suggested I join from Jan 1, which was impossible. In any case I needed to visit them and check them out first-- I did that in Jan. I'll be leaving Vienna on the 28th of March and after a day in Dubai, visiting BJ (whom I've mentioned above) and his family there, I proceed to Bengaluru on the 30th.

I am apprehensive how I'll re-adjust, but it'll be an adventure. Bangalore has changed tremendously since I used to live there (1996-1998)-- and in any case, we used live a rather sheltered life in the IISc campus with occasional excursions to the city. I've hated the traffic when I visited recently and that will indeed be a nightmare. But I am looking forward to the city, with its extremely cosmopolitan environment, great weather, the ghats nearby, tons of historical and architectural marvels nearby. Plus lots of promising activities going on (provided one can find the time and means to get there in time)-- my internet searches have yielded a hiking group that sounds fantastic, a theatre with regular performances (albeit several in Kannada), an expats organization, an interesting annual music festivals other than Vasantahabba like this one and so on.
I also have a few friends there, and my cousin and her husband whom I get along very well with. I am also excited about work.

The gay thing is a bit worrying. The problem with many (most?) Indian gay guys is their paranoia. Gay people are understandably complicated, but the juggling between terrified secrecy and being gay in India, doesn't result in a good combination. However, there are groups like Good As You (the website is outdated, because apparently the current people don't know what the password is!!!), and I think there are a higher proportion of well-adjusted (or at least better-adjusted) gay people in the city than most other Indian cities... or so I hope. I went to a Good As You meeting when I visited B'lore in Jan, and met some friendly people and enjoyed the discussions. I've heard that there is at least one gay bar and there are gay parties organized with a reasonable frequency. I'd hate to get back into the closet, but then I'm not completely out even in Vienna, and so I think I'll maintain a similar system of keeping my personal life private at work, being ambiguous to acquaintences and out to good friends... lets see.

I'm also hoping to revive my adoption dreams after I move to the city...

Everybody is suggesting that I live near to work-- that'd mean quite far away towards the eastern end of the city. Vienna has spoiled me. I live walking distance from the centre, and obstinately, I'd like to live not too far away from the happening places in Bangalore too. I'd have zeroed in on the trendy Indira Nagar, but flats there might be too expensive for my budget. The other option is Domlur-- which is apparently very ordinary and non-trendy-- very strange considering that it is between Indira Nagar and even trendier (but too southern for me) Koramangala.

I guess I'd have to go to work very early to avoid the traffic jams, I'm hoping for decent public transport, as I'd prefer to read while travelling two hours instead of being at the wheel. I've been told there are decent buses plying to where I'll be working from almost everywhere in the city, plus the city has introduced luxury buses that are airconditioned and expensive and hence are not so crowded. But I guess I'll have to get a car as well-- and a driver's license as well-- finally.

The City of Boiled Beans, I'm looking forward to spending a few years with you.

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Vienna photos: Prater

There was some mild snow yesterday, but it started snowing quite heavily around noon today and continued for a few hours. A mere week ago, we had warm weather... upto 16°C, then then last Sunday late afternoon while I was at Sharron's there was a hailstorm, and the next day the temperature dropped. The last couple of days have been really cold, and today has been particularly so. Temperatures are expected to drop slightly below 0°C over the next few days, but then again there is a forcast for warmer by rainy weather from the middle of next week.

Every year, I resolve to go out into the woods in October, and take photos of the autumnal leaves. And I never get around to doing it. I had been suggesting it to Fabien (he has a new Canon camera that he loves) too, to go together. He agreed in principle, but as usual, he never takes an initiative himself. Two weekends ago, I suggested we go on such a photo tour on the Sunday late afternoon. I wanted to do it during sunset, but that wasn't a good idea as the woods become too dark... Fabien had warned me.

So we decided to go to the amusement park in Prater instead. I guess I have missed the autumn leaves again...

Anyway, here are some of these photos:

I guess it is obvious that I like geometric forms...

Please do leave a comment if you like any of these photos.

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Writing Workshops

Vienna Lit is a new organization in Vienna that, in their own words, aims to provide a platform for live literature and the spoken word in English. They had organized a series of events a week ago, from Thursday through Saturday. These included four writing workshops (plus one for children) at the British Council. I attended all of them, and though I was disappointed that these workshops focussed much more on poetry than prose, I did have a great time, and gained some insight into poetry.

The first workshop was on Friday at 5 pm and so I rushed out early from the lab. I reached the British Council a bit late, but since only one other person was there, the workshop hadn't started yet.

The Sound of Poetic Sound was conducted by Anthony Joseph, and was probably the best one in the series. It is a pity that there were only two participants (well, Julia, the festival organizer participated for the first 20 min or so). As the title of his workshop suggests, Anthony emphasizes the importance of the sound words or phrases. He started off by asking us what were the stories behind our names. Both my first and last names do have interesting stories... and I tried getting away with that of my first name only, but he insisted that I relate the other story as well. He then asked us to pick up slips of paper with a word each and write down what taste, feel, sound, sight, memory do we associate the word with. Then we had to select a few of these associations and write four-five lines, and read them out. Unfortunately I don't have my write-up for this one (but I had written about the drone of a teacher teaching calculus and the wait for the bell to ring, and other stuff that I don't remember). The others immediately guessed that the word was "boredom".

The next task was to write an eight-sentence passage on anything without repeating a single word (not even articles). That was terribly difficult. I wrote:

A boy enters the room. His sister follows close behind. They stare around them, fascinated. He selects an interesting spot. She quickly does so too. What is in store for these two? Ah, wouldn't you like to know that? But I'm mean, won't say how this ends!

Then we were asked to randomize these words, so that mine became:

fascinated like ah the around is selects behind does I'm say sister spot too these she but follows for won't this his what an room close they mean he enters how so quickly wouldn't interesting a stare you store boy in them two know ends that to

We were asked to read it out, and the other participant (and he himself) was to write down groups of words that sounds interesting and/or beautiful. When Victoria, the other participant read out hers, I collected:

threadbare guardian

autumn leaf

only communicated

with they each beating

followed skeleton together

his became

only living hearts

We were to use these, add words wherever required, change tenses, cases-- whatever-- to write a poem. Mine was:

A Relationship

==========

Threadbare guardian

His became.

Like an autumn leaf

Like life-followed skeletons;

Together, his became.

Only living hearts--

Each beating...

The others liked it-- the main purpose had been to create something that sounds nice and isn't entirely nonsensical, and I guess with a big or small stretch of imagination it could even make sense. In any case, the method was cool, and this was my first "poem" in something like 20 years. I do remember writing two or three childish ones when I was a kid.

The next workshop was on Saturday morning, at 10 am. I had gone dancing with Adam and Fabien at Why Not, and despite my resolutions had gotten back quite late, 2:30 am. Understandably, I was late for the workshop, nevertheless still before things had started properly.

The Voice Within was being conducted by John Siddique. Again, as the title suggests, the aim was to access one's "natural author's voice". The first exercise was to speak from the character's perspective. We were paired up and had to ask questions to our partners about themselves, take notes, and then introduce them as if we were them. That was interesting.

Among things he emphasized were

Never say what the author feels, don't make the reader emote. Rather show it.

Stay out of it, even if it has an "I" character.

As an example he gave us a poem:

Handbag

======

My mother's old leather handbag,

crowded with letters she carried

all through the war. The smell

of my mother's handbag: mints

and lipstick and Coty powder.

The look of those letters, softened

and worn at the edges, opened

read, and refolded so often.

Letters from my father. Odour

of leather and powder, which ever

since then has meant womanliness,

and love, and anguish, and war.

-Ruth Fainlight

We were asked to write a few sentences about an object we associate with a person we love, and write a poem. I wrote about my brother's camera, but it didn't turn out to be satisfactory.

Dardis McNamee, professor of journalism and writing at Webster University, Vienna, conducted the next workshop on Literary Travel Writing. This was probably the most structured of all the workshops. She recommeded reading her favourite travel books, the ones that sound most interesting to me were William Dalrymple's In Xanadu and Alain de Botton's The Art of Travel. I don't remember reading much travel writing, but since I like to travel, and often try to maintain a travelogue I thought I'd do this workshop anyway.

Her tips were very interesting:

1. Learn about the place before and find out more while there. Have a knowledge of history. Keep in mind that history is the source of richness of the contemporary world. See things in light of their history. But do pay attention to the present.

Let loose the imaginative ability to see the manifestations of history in the present day.

2. Have a sense of wonder.

3. Quality of attention-- attention to details.

To go about the actual writing, she suggested,

1. Practise taking notes of a scene as if one is a set designer for a film. Key visual elements, colours, quality of light (recommended reading: books on painting and/or stage lighting), what is noticed first.
There are layers of perception. Pick out what is noticed first, what feels charming, what irritating.

2. Characters-- who do we think he is, why do we think this about him. Describe the people as with the setting.

3. Enter the scene and become involved. First person ("I walked into the room...") or first person invisible ("Entering the room...").

4. Little anecdotes of encounters. Conversations/dialogues, incidents etc.

5. The memories, experience etc that the scene stimulates one to think. Reflections, connections that one is reminded of from (a) history, or (b) personal experiences.

The last workshop was conducted by Peter Waugh on Place Writing Space. Peter is the co-founder of the poetry group Labyrinth, and it turned out that Ella from my theatre group used to go to this group. This workshop was about place, space and enviroment. He gave us a poem to illustrate two different places/spaces/environments in two parts of the same poem:

My Life in Two Parts

===============

1

Outside my window is a row of poplars

growing from the turf of childhood.

Poplars grow in rows, never on their own.

It is Christmas. The sky is full of stars,

the branches are bare,

the wolves distant and menacing.

Now is the only time for oranges.

Their brisk fragrance fills the nails

as we lie in cold rooms high in the Balkans

dreaming of palm trees and the world.

2

Outside my window is a palm tree.

It is winter. The sky is enormous

and the ocean follows the moon.

Oranges are on the window-sill with other

tropical fruits no longer of interest.

Bright-plumed parakeets sway in the palm tree

and that's the only time I look up.

I lie in the low, stuffy rooms of adulthood

dreaming of poplars and the world.

Always, they come in rows.

-Kapka Kassabova (Someone Else's Life)

Next we were to write a similar poem describing two different times and space, yet somehow connected. My attempt was about the situation right there... a closed claustrophobic room where the workshops were being held versus the garden of the British Council where I went to write the poem:

1.

A large well-lit room--

Scattered tables, white boards ahead.

Doors closed. "Stuffy" someone said.

Introductions-- there are seven of us.

Scribbling notes.

A task to be completed.

2.

A lovely green lawn, a pleasant breeze--

Reddening autumn leaves on the wall ahead.

Flowers on the potted plants.

The sound of water from somewhere.

Judith at a distance writing her poem.

I guess my task is done.

Peter also told us about list poems and haikus. And our next task was to try them. I have a mental block against haikus, but nevertheless tried my hand at one. The concept of a list poem is interesting... taking a walk and making a list of things on a thing with short description, and then making a poem out of them. We were to go around in the British Council and do this.

I really did enjoy the workshops. Julia, the festival director had mentioned to me earlier that it had been extremely difficult to get the funding for this, and she isn't in a hurry to organize another such event, if at all. And that is a pity.

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Illegal Immigrants

Illegal immigration and how to deal with the illegal immigrants are a hot topic of discussion in the EU these days, lots of opinions and frayed tempers.

I guess Vienna has its fair share of illegal immigrants, and I would think many of the South Asians and Africans selling newspapers are not here legally. When Roopsha parents were visiting Vienna several months ago, her mother was telling me how they were chatting with newspaper sellers (from India) who were here without a visa.

Not being a great conversation initiator, I have never chatted with one... before yesterday.

It has always been at the back of my mind, but yesterday I realized that these guys would have fascinating stories to tell. Perhaps I should start collecting them.

I was in the bus, returning home yesterday, when a short slightly stocky guy in his mid-20s, of obviously South Asian origin, boarded and sat next to me. I was just wondering whether I should say something or continue reading, when he got a phone call, and answered it in Hindi/Urdu with a heavy Punjabi accent. My theory is that most often in Vienna this means a Pakistani. And of course I am always intrigued by what the average Pakistani thinks of things. I was in the mood for chatting, so I thought I'd say hello, and asked him in Hindi where he was from. India: Chandigarh. Rony Singh, I think he said his name was. He had been living in Vienna since 4-5 years, and had works at an Indian restaurant quite near my place.

He asked me at two different points whether I had a visa-- it clicked the second time, and I said that since he was asking me this, I assume he didn't have one. Indeed. He had apparently gone to Russia, with a visa somehow. He mentioned agents quite a few times. Then he probably overstayed, or for some reason he spent some time in prison. Then via agents, he somehow found his way to Vienna. Vienna to Russia, that's quite a long way, I exclaimed, how did he manage that without visas? Through agents, he said, of course it is risky-- you'd have to go to prison obviously if they caught you. He said that as if prison was just another bump on the road.

He was upbeat that he'd soon get a visa and would be living here legally, as he'd get married quite soon. An Austrian lady, I guess, I asked. No, an Indian (but an Austrian citizen now, I guess, he meant), a divorcee. She works in a shop somewhere not far. But there was a slight hitch. He could apply for a visa only from India (or at least from outside Austria but for that he'd need papers for that country). And that would take a while. I don't know if getting back to India without papers would be a problem. Probably not.

We had reached our destination, which was a pity, as I would have loved to hear the story of how he got to Vienna from Russia.

I guess I just have to talk to people more often.

*

As I think back, I have had another encounter with not-entirely legal immigrants. This was quite a few years ago, when I used to live in Germany. I think I was going from Tübingen to Berlin, or Würzburg, or somewhere. In any case this happened when I boarded a long-distance train from Stuttgart station. Three ladies, one of them South Asian, got on after me, followed me, and sat down opposite me. They seemed to be slightly agitated. One of the German ladies, probably in her 40s, asked me if I spoke the South Asian girl's (in her mid-20s) language and whether I could help them in their conversation. My German was terrible at that time, but I could indeed oblige them.

The South Asian girl was from Pakistan, and her brother, who she said was my age (I must have been around 25-26 at that time), was married to the German lady-- the former made it clear that this was a marriage of convenience at least as far as her brother was concerned, as this allowed him to stay on in Germany. She on the other hand was trying to get asylum in Germany. She obviously didn't know what asylum meant (nor could she pronounce the word properly), or why one requests it. In fact she asked me whether I was applying for it to... something the rather young and naively me found extremely offensive and insulting.

She complained about her sister-in-law and how stupid and silly she was (sis-in-law or her companion had turned off her mobile by mistake, and she had left the code at home, and so they couldn't contact her brother-- that was what the confusion had been about for they had need my linguistic assistence help). And German SIL kept on asking me what her Pakistani SIL was saying about her.

At that time I was glad when they got off. But I had missed an opportunity for real life stories.

*

Vaguely in this context, something I wanted to blog about, but never got around to: I met some people recently who work exactly on this. They do research on migration patterns, of course pertaining to migration into the EU.

In the last beer hour (get-together at our and adjoining institutes with food, drinks and plenty of socializing), Lionel, a French postdoc in a neighbouring lab brought along his girlfriend and two friends-- all of them French. One of these guys, Julien works for an organization called International Centre for Migration Policy Development. Julien was great fun to talk to, he had wanted to become a pilot, and had started studying Aeronautical Engineering (or something like that) but then because his eyesight was not good enough he couldn't become a pilot, so he quit and studied Law. From that he got interested in International Law and from that International Relations, and within that Weapons. In fact he had done a paper on the Indian nuclear devices. With such a wide area of knowledge, it wasn't surprising that I had a fantastic conversation with him.

What was surprising though was when Lionel forwarded me an email that Julien had asked him to, inviting me to his 25th birthday party the following Saturday. Although Lionel and his girlfriend didn't go as the date clashed with the Lange Nacht der Musik, I did go.

I had some very interesting discussions with Julien's boss, another French Julien about migration. In fact he told me about the situation arising because of Spain's decision to legalize its illegal immigrants last year, the stuff that led to frayed tempers in the EU. Basically, because of the Spanish act, they believe that there has been even higher levels of migration because this gives further reason to the immigrants to get convinced that they would be ultimately legalized.

Julien-2 disagreed strongly with the suggestion that it might have been nice of Spain from a humanitarian point of view to legalize its immigrants who had been living there for such long periods.

*

Like many other things, I have no idea what I'd do if I were forced to take a stand on this issue. Obviously many of these are countries who made money in the last two centuries by exploiting the same countries whose people they want to prevent. Many of these countries, France, for instance are full of hardcore socialists-- even the right wingers there support many of the socialist traditions like agricultural subsidies, limited work hours, tough labour laws etc. Are definitions of socialism different if for citizens of other countries, especially poor countries? Citizens of many of these rich countries refuse to do menial work. Most of the people cleaning the Viennese streets are immigrants, many of them illegal, whether caucasian or not. Similarly, there is a worry in many countries, Germany for sure for example, that declining birthrates would result in an unsure pension and social benefits when the current generation grows old.

On the other hand, yes you should be nice and try to help others, but can you really open your doors to everybody? Wouldn't most people from poor countries live in developed countries, if given a chance? Apart from your own living standards falling, this would also change your home if all the newcomers called it their home and wanted to change the interior decoration. Muslim groups in the Netherlands ranting against homosexuality is an example I like to quote in this last context.

I am always intrigued by people who find it easy to take a stand. Not only that, they find it easy to classify themselves as left, right or centre.

I hope my view of life never becomes as simplistic.

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"Greetings to God!"

Oh no, don't worry: I haven't suddenly come to believe in an omnipresent omnipotent creator. Rather, I was referring to a typically Austrian (and Southern German) greeting, "Gruß Gott!" (note: the "ß" is pronounced like "ss"), which means "Greetings to God". So instead of saying hello to you, they greet God.

Not only do I find this hilarious, but being an atheist I also find it uncomfortable (or should I say I find it kinda dishonest?) to utter this greeting. I stick to "hallo" or a "Guten Tag" (Good day!).

I have been told (or did I read it somewhere?) that when some northern Germans visit the southern Germany they jokingly retort "Ich grüße ihn wenn ich ihn treffe!" that is, "I will greet Him if I meet Him" in response to such a greeting. Of course, I doubt the northern Germans would dare to try this on Austrians... the latter seem to dislike the Germans anyway, and call them (rather derogatorily) "Piefke".

I am always tempted to use this joke as well, and on the rare occasion, I do use it on German or Austrian friends when they say "Gruß Gott" to me. Strangely most people don't know this joke, and it takes a while for them to understand it.

The expression on the recipient's face when the joke dawns, is worth photographing.

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"The Greatest Surprise"

In the greatest of Indian epics, the Mahabharata, there is an episode where Yudhishthira, has to answer philosophical riddles of a Yaksha. One of these questions (that my father likes to quote) was [I really should know this shloka in Sanskrit, but unfortunately I don't]:

"What is the greatest suprise?"

"People die everyday making us aware that men are mortal, yet we live, work, play, plan etc as if assuming we are immortal. Kimashcharyam Atahh Parahh? What is more surprising than that?"

This came to my mind on Saturday evening in an "encounter" with the unexpectedness and inevitability of death.

I had met Fahad in a CouchSurfing mega-get-together a little more than a month ago. Fahad is software guy from Rawalpindi, Pakistan, and has to spend a couple of months in Vienna for work. We got along very well, and had planned to meet up, but for various reasons (including his visiting Pakistan for two weeks), it never happened until yesterday. He had called around noon and since the weather was quite wonderful, and he'd not seen the Belvedere and the Karlskirche, we decided that I'd show him these sights. We met around 1pm and wandered around and had lunch and chatted about all kinds of things until around 5pm, when I left because I had to go to the lab. We had spent a really nice time together.

We were to meet again around 7:30pm with some other acquaintences from CS at the Rathausplatz. I was delayed, and I arrived only around 8:30 or 9:00pm. Fahad wasn't there, and I was told that he had suddenly received a phonecall informing him that his father had passed away.

It must have been really sudden. We had talked about his father and his family in general during the afternoon, his closeness to his family and how he was missing them. I am sure that this was completely unexpected.

I texted him and he said he was trying to find a flight to Pakistan. I should have called today, but I forgot. I hope he has found something and is already on his way back.

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Coming Out II: to close friends

This is the second part of a three-part article. Check out the previous one first.

Kerstin was a postdoc in a neighbouring lab in Tübingen, and one of the smartest girls I have met in Europe. She was nice, although she could be quite bitchy. She was openly lesbian, and I had met her girlfriend too. One of my biggest regrets in life is that I didn't come out to her. Bitchy or not, gossipy or not, she'd have helped me, and may even have introduced me to a lot of people. In fact she may have taken me for a bit of a homophobe from some of my comments.

In June 1999, I had finished an important piece of work, that I had been struggling with for a while, and my supervisor insisted that I take a holiday. So I decided to visit H. in Berlin again. I heard that Kerstin was going to Berlin for the same weekend. When she came to know about my plans of visiting that weekend too, she was very curious about the reason of my visit.

That Saturday, H., a friend of his, and I were loitering around Berlin, and came across a huge parade. Noisy, crowded, outrageous costumes.. or nothing (or nothing much) on at all. A girl even asked me whether she could take my photo, and I "posed". None of the three of us desis spoke much German at that time, so we couldn't figure out what it was. H. said he'd heard of the Love Parade and this could be it. We didn't stay to watch, but moved on to the sights of Berlin. Later, a friend of his told us that it was the Gay Parade. Wow! My first encounter with a Gay Parade, one of the most famous Gay Parades of the world, and it didn't even register! The reason why Kerstin was in Berlin and her curiosity about my visit also clicked. I told H. that I'd tell her that we'd come across the "Love Parade" and see what she says. H. said he thought that'd be horribly nasty of me. If Kerstin is lesbian, that is her business. There was nothing wrong in being lesbian. Why should I make fun of her? Mentally, I stopped in my tracks. I was the gay guy, and I was being homophobic. The pretense was taking me too far. It had to be a straight guy who had to point this out to me. [Kerstin did ask me whether I saw the parade, and I truthfully answered that yes, we did, but we'd initially thought that it was the Love Parade. She got a bit agitated and explained that while the Love Parade had no significance, the Gay Parade had a lot. This was my first lesson in gay history. But I still didn't come out to her. How far can paranoia and plain stupidity take one!]

This episode got me thinking about my pretense bordering on homophobia, and also about why I'd need to pretend at all with people like H. Why would I have to pretend at all with people who are friends? They are not friends because they think I am straight! And to assume that would be to insult them and their affection for me. If someone did have a problem with my not being straight, would this person deserve being my friend at all?
When H. called up in Mar 2000 to wish me on my 26th birthday, I came out to him. I was terribly nervous, trembling, dry-mouthed, scared. Stupid, because I knew H., knew him well, and had decided to come out because of his correcting me! Nevertheless, the first coming out is never easy. He was shocked, but very supportive. I felt as if a huge burden had been lifted over my shoulders. [Interestingly enough, one of his first questions was about my behaviour in the Kerstin episode.]

From then on, coming out was like an addiction. I had targetted six of my close friends, scattered around the world, and one by one I came out to them. The circle widened. The reactions were varying. Most of these people were shocked, dumbstruck, some thought I was playing one of my tricks that I used to be notorious for. One argued with me that it was "not natural" and took his time to come to terms to this information, although at no point did he shut me out. I am really proud of the bunch of friends I have collected over the years-- proud of them, and proud of myself.

Chris was the fifth of the original six, the only non-Indian in this lot, and the only one I came out to in person at that time (all the other five were on the telephone as they didn't live in the town/country/continent). He was studying in Würzburg and had spent a summer in a neighbouring lab when we became very good friends. We visited each other in Tübingen (later Heidelberg) and Würzburg respectively a few times, and he introduced me to German history and we often travelled together to historical places. I felt myself falling in love with him (to this day, I think if he'd been gay, he'd be Mr. Perfect for me... and I'm not talking about looks here). I didn't want another "is he? he's not!", and other case of my fucking up a friendship. So once, just before returning from a visit, I came out to him in a rather roundabout manner. He was of course ok with it.

My brother's reaction was a classic one. I was in Heidelberg and writing my thesis, meaning I was spending (read: wasting) a lot of time on the computer and the internet on that pretext. During one of our long conversations on Yahoo Messenger, I came out. I asked him if he had a problem with it, whether he was shocked. This offended him, because he'd have thought I'd known him by now and that he is unshockable.

Of the girls that have been romantically interested in me, SM was one, though she insists that this is not true. Her initial reaction was of shock and complete disbelief when I came out to her (on the phone). I was already in Vienna, and it was a week or so before her PhD defence in Tübingen... she never fails to point out how inappropriate my timing for coming out to her was, and I do plead guilty. Later before moving to the US, she visited me in Vienna for the New Year (Dec 2003-Jan 2004) and she wanted to visit a gay bar. I had introduced her to Vijay, and she keeps repeating that if he'd not been gay, he'd be her Mr. Perfect. So Vijay and I took her to Cafe Willendorf at the Rosa Lila Villa. She liked it, of course, like most people do, but she found it no different from a regular cafe. And that's right too. We should have taken her to some place that's "more gay".

Once our Indian friends in Europe and I were visiting H. in Berlin for Christmas (2001). We had all gone for a movie, when H. who was sitting next to me told me he liked the girl in the trailer. Then suddenly he whispered that we'd always talked about the actresses he fancied, but it was silly he'd never asked me about the actors I liked. So who were they?
If I had to give just one reason for having come out to friends, it'd be this.

This is the second part of a three-part article. Check out the next one.

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