Though he does not speak my language…

I am reserved while interacting with people I don’t know much about.

But, for one of my colleagues - lets call him TBP - I made an exception. Initially, I was cautious in my responses, what with him being the client and me being just an external consultant. Later on, as I worked more with him, I realized he is a gem of a person. Unlike most people I know, he wasn’t ashamed to say ‘I don’t know’ when he didn’t.

On a personal level, he helped me a lot. When I was staying in the same town as he did, he insisted on dropping me home everyday, though he stayed at the other end of the town. He did the groundwork for finding me an accommodation near to the office, which I did, staying with an excellent family (more on them later). When I wanted to visit someplace, TBP was my first point of reference. He was quick to make fun of me and even quicker to ridicule himself.

All in all, a great guy.

Just before the start of Easter holiday, he asked if I would like to see Møns Clint, the famous chalk cliffs in Denmark. Of course, I could not pass up an opportunity like this. We asked another colleague and he was ready too. On the day of travel, TBP came to pick me from my home. Along with him was his angelic five year old daughter, Tilda. The other colleague informed us at the last moment that he wont be able to make it, so it was just three of us.

Tilda speaks only Danish but understands some English. She was scared of me, all kids are, nothing new. Whenever I tried to address her, she hid behind her daddy. TBP strapped her to the child seat while I rode shotgun.

On the highway, we were having a free-wheeling chat about everything and laughing loudly when Tilda said something in Danish. TBP said, with no one to talk to, she was feeling lonely and she did not want the guys to have fun. So, we sat silent for some time and then started the talking/laughing again. Once again, we were admonished by Tilda. This time, we were silent for a longer duration. She found a coloring book and was occupied with it, so the guys were allowed to have fun. After two hours of driving, we reached Møns Clint. During these two hours, my numerous attempts to talk to the child produced zero results. But she was no longer trying to hide from me, which showed that I was definitely progressing.

After a snack, we set ourselves to the monstrous task of descending the 400 odd steps to the shore and pick up some natural chalk for Tilda and her brother. With a huge burger inside, TBP was hardly spry while Tilda was on a sugar high due to pancakes and orange marmalade. I had a protein bar, so I was feeling light and full.


I tried to match Tilda step for step and, though it is difficult to match the energy level of a five year old on a sugar high, I was fairly successful. It also warmed her up towards me. After a couple of hundred steps, she was as uninhibited with me as she might have been with other children. Sometimes she outran me, at times she insisted I carry her and at times, she wanted to carry me on her shoulders and I let her think she did. By the time we reached the bottom, we were buddies.


When we reached the shore, she was talking to me in Danish, I could not understand a word but I was making the right noises at what I thought were the right times. A five year old would hardly bear grudges if you don’t understand all she says. TBP was translating her words to English and mine to Danish, serving as a bridge between us.


At one point, she said something which made him pause. It was apparent he was struggling for words. Then he said, “You wont believe what she just said!”

“And what was that?”

“Never knew my daughter is a philosopher. She said, ‘though he does not speak my language, he can still be my friend. Tell him that’”

It was my turn to be awestruck. I had never expected this level of wisdom from a child.

I bowed to her and said, “I am honored to have you as my friend.”

Once again, TBP was struggling, but for a different reason. He said, “For God’s sake, Anant, she is five. She does not know the concept of honor. Give her something simpler.”

“Just tell her, I am happy to have her as my friend.”

This he did and I got a wide smile from her. Then she said something which, translated by her father meant, “It is so cold here. Hurry, we have to fill this bag with chalk.”

Which I did.

Anything for a friend.

Please put your hands together for Emily Dickinson

Originally a note on my FB on Tuesday, June 14, 2011 at 11:07am

During my random rambling over the Net, I came across this excellent poem by Emily Dickinson. In only two paragraphs, she has laid bare the very essence of human desire.


---
The heart asks pleasure first
And then, excuse from pain-
And then, those little anodynes
That deaden suffering;
And then, to go to sleep;
And then, if it should be
The will of its Inquisitor,
The liberty to die.
---
The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

So true...

Originally on my FB page, as a note on 23/01/2012:

While going through various blogs, I came across this free verse. It rung so true that I had to share it. I have no idea who Veronica Shoffstal is and neither did I try to find out. But here you are, Veronica, and thank you so much for this.

“After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn
that love doesn’t mean leaning
and company doesn’t always mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren’t contracts
and presents aren’t promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of woman,
not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow’s ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down
in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone
to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure
you really are strong
you really do have worth
and you learn
and you learn
with every goodbye, you learn…”
- Veronica A. Shoffstall

Memories of Denmark – Looked down by an angel

After getting a bicycle, my mobility increased. I could cover more distance expending the same amount of energy. I covered long distances, saw more of Copenhagen and took a lot more pictures.


I got a map from 7-11 which I used to chart my path. But I also took unplanned detours due to which I had to stop frequently and consult the map to realize where I had landed. Once, after taking a turn too many, I halted near a bench, laid down my cycle and tried to find my position on the map. I was turning it round and round, muttering to myself and looking all over Creation when I heard a female voice saying, “Do you need help?”

I looked up to see a tall Danish beauty looking down at me. I don’t like to be looked down, so drew myself to full height but that did not remedy the situation. I was torn between thanking Him for sending an angel and considering standing on the bench when she repeated, “Do you need help?”

I said. “Definitely, but how did you figure that out?”

“You don’t look like you are from here, you have been looking at the map and around since last ninety seconds. I have been watching you with amusement.”

She flashed her pearls and I was thinking, wow, I must really suck at reading maps!

“Yes, I would like to go to Norreport station but I have lost my way.”

“No, you haven’t, not with me around. You are just a kilometre and half away from Norreport station. Just follow this way and take the first right. Do you get it?”

“Ja, I do. Take the first right after following this way.”

“Excellent! Have a nice day!”

“You too, have a nice day. Thank you for the help.”

With a wave, the angel left and I did both.

I stood on the bench and thanked Him.

Memories of Denmark – Unexpected bonding

I covered almost all sights of Copenhagen alone, partly because the people I stayed with were scared of the cold, partly because I was the only guy who invested in a bicycle and mostly because I like to travel alone.

Being alone makes me more aware of my surroundings. It might have something to do with the primal instinct of survival we all possess in varying degrees.

I was wandering in one of the many parks in Copenhagen on a cold and foggy Sunday morning. I rarely take the beaten path; I like to enjoy the walk. I know Denmark has no predators except foxes which are the size of Indian stray dogs and I was never scared of dogs. In a thickly wooded area, I heard some rustling at my right and out came a big dog. It could have been the Hound of Baskerville and, judging by the leaves and twigs lodged in its long hair, it looked like it had some fun rolling in the autumn leaves. It came directly at me and stopped at a distance of two feet.


I held my ground and almost half a minute passed with the two animals judging each other. Then it came cautiously and sniffed me; I ungloved my hand and ruffled its muzzle; I didn’t even bend; it was that big. It then did the most unexpected thing; it rose up on the hind legs, put its big forepaws on my chest and licked my chin! I kept on stroking its muzzle. It got down on all fours and started rubbing his muscular body on my side.

It could have been a scene from fifty thousand years ago when we wore no acrylic or wool but still had dogs.

Our party was broken by a female voice – and later an old lady – coming out from the same spot where the dog had. She called out the dog again to which the dog immediately left my side and sped to hers. First thing she did was put a stout leash on the dog’s collar. She said something in Danish which I could not understand. I walked up to her and requested to speak in English. She apologized and inquired whether I was alright and if the dog had harmed me. Far from harming, it was actually nice to me was my reply. She rarely kept the dog loose since people judge it by its size and are easily scared; especially overprotective parents. She thought there was no one around and hence unleashed it. I assured her that I was perfectly fine and I think the dog liked me. I squatted and rubbed the dog’s muzzle again and it licked me right on the cheeks with its warm moist tongue.

Another warm memory of Denmark.

Memories of Denmark – Ferry, sandwiches and tea

My weekends were free and Copenhagen, steeped in history and art, has a lot to offer. On the first day, I got an ‘Alle Zoner’ pass. I love to travel and I decided to exploit my pass to the fullest. I was at Nyhavn when I got aboard one of the ferries and flashed my pass; I thought the guy at the ship didn’t really look at it and I was lucky to ride it for free. (Later a colleague enlightened me that my pass covers them too)

I was pretty excited to see the sights from a new angle. The only other passenger was an old lady, who looked equally excited. It would have been a shame not to have a photo in the ferry; so I requested the old lady to click one. She happily obliged and though her hands were shaky, the camera gyro did a perfect job and the photo was good.


She gave a detailed description of every landmark we passed. When I rose to leave, she said, “Are you leaving?” to which I replied in positive. She said, “Are you sure? You haven’t seen the best parts.” I didn’t have anything to lose, so I stuck. We alighted at the last stop, The Royal Library. She asked me about how I came to be in Denmark, how long was I here and so on. She also asked me if I had planned anything specific to which I replied that I hadn’t. I was just soaking in the city, going wherever the road takes me. She inquired if I would mind if she showed me around; I said I would be honored to have her company.

The first stop we took was at Christian’s Church. It is an old beautiful church, well maintained with a massive pipe organ. She told me the significance of each painting, each statue and so on. Just when we were leaving, the pipe organ started playing. The old lady, who was walking a few steps ahead of me, turned around, gripped my arm with amazing strength and led me, like a small child, to a seat. Then she said something I will never forget, “Close your eyes, kid. Listen, with more than just your ears”.


The music that poured was deeper and more resonating than all I had heard till then. When the music stopped, I opened my eyes and saw her crying. I did not disturb her till she opened her eyes, wiped them and said, “I have been coming to this church since last 50 years. This music always moves me to tears.”

When we were on the streets, she started giving history of each and every landmark we passed by. Even a guide couldn’t have surpassed her knowledge. After a couple of hours, we came to a building by the Kastellet when she stopped, grinned sheepishly and said, “Would it be improper if I invite you for tea to my place?”

I grinned and asked, “Pardon me for breaking the social norm, madam, but, how old are you?”

She blushed, “Seventy seven!”

“Then it is not improper at all!”

Once upstairs, I was treated to a tour of her four-roomed apartment, delicious sandwiches and Ceylon tea. She happily showed me some pictures of her India visit, cried while recollecting memories of her husband – their marriage of 55 years ended with his death four months before – and showed some more pictures of her children, grand children and great grand children. We talked about almost everything under the sun and, despite her advanced years, she was more up-to-date about the world than I was. After another couple of hours, when I got up to leave, she asked me my name. We both started laughing at the absurdity of the situation; here were we, two perfect strangers who enjoyed the company of each other without bothering about names!

Her name was ‘Vivi’ but everyone called her ‘Susan’. I asked her to pose at favorite spot in the house and she was quite a model.


Thank you for the wonderful information about Copehangen. Thank you for the sandwiches and tea. And, above all, thank you for teaching me what hospitality means.

I might forget ‘Den Lille Havfrue’ but you, Vivi, I will never forget.

Memories of Denmark – The Best Welcome

Le cœur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît point

At times we doubt familiar people, sometimes we trust perfect strangers. I, for one, have been fortunate to have trusted the right ones most of the times.

Guy sitting next to me on the way from Dubai to Copehangen was an ex-army Dane named Lars. He was working with some NGO in Kuwait and was coming home after six months to his wife of twenty years and two daughters. Since this travel opportunity came suddenly, I could not do enough research on how to reach the hotel from the airport. While talking to him, I said one of my colleagues – whom I had never seen before - is coming to receive me. He inquired if I had a Plan B, meaning what if my colleague does not show up. I didn’t have one and I told him that. Our flight landed, we went through the immigration check. Since Lars was a Danish citizen, he got through easily while I was questioned for a couple of minutes. After I passed through the doors, I found him waiting for me. I was quite surprised as asked him what held him back. In reply, he started walking and I followed him to the conveyor belt to collect our bags. He got his bags and helped me find mine. I wished him luck and expected him to leave.

Will I stick around with a perfect stranger by choice if I haven’t seen my wife and two daughters for six months?

I wont.

But Lars did.

I told him he need not wait; he emphasized that he will stick around till my colleague finds me or the other way round. If that does not happen, Lars wanted to escort me to the hotel. After about fifteen minutes, my colleague found me chatting with Lars. All the three of us were relieved. Lars picked up his bag, wished me luck, walked for a couple of steps, came right back, hugged me and said, “Welcome to Denmark!”

Thank you, Lars, no welcome would have been better.

Or warmer.

Travel travails

I love to travel.

Today, as the Easter holidays start, I am taking a trip to Skagen (pronounced ‘Skain’) which is at the tip of North Zealand part of Denmark. I have been planning for two weeks for this trip. But today, at the start of the trip, I am feeling a bit shaky.

But, didn’t I start with “I love to travel”?

Yes, I did.

Shaky because I have been a lone wolf for the last decade. I have never taken trips spanning more than a day with people I have hardly known. I keep my trips largely unplanned so that I can invest more time and energy in whatever catches my fancy. One more sentient person brings its own challenges. There are these difficult parts of ‘to agree or not to agree’; ‘to compromise or not to compromise’ and so on.

Apart from visiting a beautiful region, I also look forward to knowing my co-traveller more.

Let the travel begin!

14/04/2012 Update: What I know about Skagen is very little but, compared to what I know about my co-traveller, it appears humongous.