The mud between my toes

10 minutes isn’t a big time to lose when you are traveling from Dusseldorf to Muelheim, especially if it is a Sunday and the previous night was some amazing Christmas market visit filled with hot Met (honey wine) and an extended night with Cacasa cocktails. Cacasa is a Brazilian spirit made from sugarcane and tasted lovely with sweet lime juice and sugar. So I decided to take the S bahn from Dusseldorf to home not minding the extra 10 minutes. New york nagaram was playing in my i-pod and I was leaned against the window in the not so crowded train.

It was a beautiful sight. A few farmers were harvesting huge pumpkins and red cabbages. Though this picture was in frame only for a few seconds, I was able to take in the entire scenario and nostalgia began to bring smiles to my face. To feel the mud in your toes in the garden is such a wonderful feeling. May be the Germans were wearing leather boots to avoid this and also to protect themselves from the chillness of the winter. But not me and not my sister. We always used to be bare footed when we were gardening in our grandmother’s place in Trichy.

It was a compact garden but still huge enough for two crazy siblings who came to spend the summer and winter holidays there. Since there wasn’t much age appropriate company around, me and my sister spent most of the sunny afternoons in the garden. Watering the plants in the afternoon was such a favorite job and the smell of Geosmin (the smell when rain hits the dry muddy lands) used to elevate the atmosphere. There was a huge mango tree which was responsible for the shade over the entire garden. A huge hibiscus bush and a Guava tree nearby. Further near the compound was a Neem tree, a bush with flowers what we used to refer in the local language as Idly Poo and a Pavzhamalli tree (or was it not there?!). There was also lime and once also were snake gourd creepers that hung supported by a structure. Near the clean water sump, there were white pumpkin creepers and our favorite touch-me-not plant. We used to always touch the leaves and watch them shrink. There was Jasmine, Rose, flowers that were beautifully colored but no fragrance and even pillayar poo (well, I am not a botanical gardener, so I just know some of them in the local lingo!). Also not to forget a few tomato shrubs, egg plants and green chili. Aloe vera and spinach stood in space opposite to the main garden. Oh! And the coconut tree in the corner near the dangerously deep well.

As a young kid and also without anything to do in the hot afternoons, the garden was the only fun provider. We had tools for digging and scooping the earth off and a huge hose pipe that could be dragged to any corner of the huge garden. Our regular job was to dig nice water channels that would store water around the tree and also to interconnect them with ducts so that if you water from the start of the duct, it would flow and distribute amongst all the plants. Usually these constructions were done every afternoon and destroyed in the evening and planned in a new design every afternoon!

We also planted seeds and loved to wait to see the tiny little plant peeping out and watch it shed its cotyledons and if we were lucky enough, also see the first flower. There is a thrill involved in this and if I compare this feeling to my present day scenario, I can say that it is similar to protein crystallization. Carefully planning your protein drops and checking every other day and the anticipation for crystals. Well, I got more lucky with plants!

Once, me and my sister were really involved in gardening. I used to remember all my science class lesson and try to utilize them. Earthworms are farmers best friend was the lesson I remembered on that particular day and want to implement it. So I asked my scout (my sister) to search for earthworms so that we can put them near the plant. We found several ones by digging the earth and transported those wriggly squishy little friends in the stem of a plant or on a leaf and put them near the plants. Suddenly my sister let out a cry of triumph and called for my backup. She had spotted a real long worm and it was escaping her by digging itself deeper into the earth and she was pulling it out with her fingers! By the time I rushed to share the moment, she has pulled out half the worm and I saw it snap into two. One part was wriggling in her fingers and the other part was digging into the earth. She was determined not to let the other part escape. So with one half clutched in her hands, she scooped out the other one! Since this was a long worm and still alive in two parts she wanted to put them for the egg plants. She is crazy about egg plants!

When we stepped out of the garden to wash ourselves, we were always covered in slushy mud. It was all over our hands and even faces. It will dry over your skin and change its color. Our toes would be in layers of such mud and also inside our finger nails. It has a real special smell and taste. Of course, how many times it has gone into our mouths! To get cleaned up would take an hours scrubbing and the water that washed our bodies would run totally mucky!

I don’t know if the trees and the plants still stand there, for the house along with the garden has been sold to someone. But they still do in our memories and I have the best harvest of mangoes, lime, egg plants, tomatoes and fabulous blooms.

Missing Diwali, Lights, Sounds and Aroma

Been ages and I don’t know what has been stopping me from blogging. I wouldn’t blame it on work for I had always found time to write and not the want of events either. There had been some over which I could keep writing until I feel bored of expressing them in different ways! But today, the thought of day after tomorrow has pushed me to write this in a last minute effort to feel closer to the best ever times I had had back home in India, celebrating Diwali.

The only thing I like about religion are the festivals it holds. A reason to celebrate, a reason to unwind and feel childhood every passing year. It feels shocking to me when some of my friends tell me that they don’t celebrate Diwali because they have grown up. Is this how you grow up? To lose the celebration, the anticipation and the fun? And a few of them turn environment conscious and child labour conscious and stop celebrating. This is a baffling paradox. India is such a huge country with a huge socio-economic barrier. Let there be no blame game, instead there could have been support. You stop the purchase of fire crackers since the NGO’s shout that the majority of them have child labourers and if you don’t buy them, who is going to feed them anyways? So, why cant there be support and regulation and then everyone is happy! Instead there are these emotional stories, pictures and advertisement which makes you feel like a pathetic human being every time you light up a sparkler. Truth be told, I’ve never felt that way.

Escape from this feeling and then here comes the environment friendly part. It is ok for the government busses to emit pathetic gasses all around the year. It is ok to sell doctored petrol and diesel and even give emission clearance for vehicles even without checking it. It is perfectly ok for the roads and traffic to be chaotic which increases the emission and it also perfectly fine for huge trucks and lorries to roam inside the city limits during day time and most important of all, parks can be converted into IT parks, trees can be cut to make broader roads, lights and blarring speakers can be run 24 hours for political purposes. And now you have rules for a one day celebration to protect the environment. No firecrackers before 6AM and after 11PM and no high decibel crackers. Wow, the government really cares!

Diwali is one festival that turns every grown up into a kid. For people who realise this, welcome to the club. Else, thanks for reading until this! I used to love the celebrations in my apartment. Loads of kids in the age group, juniors to whom we were heroes and seniors who were heroes to us. It was perfect. 12 Midnight used to witness intense competition on who lit the first firecracker of the season and after the first one burst, we used to go back home to prepare in the more traditional way. Oil bath and prayers and then off at 4AM in the morning with the back of crackers, candles, incense sticks and matches. I love the smell of crackers and the color of my hands after an intense session of bangs and poofs. Sulphur and Phosphorus and burnt paper. Combine this smell with the ones emanating from several kitchens in the apartment cooking elaborate festival meals and you can get an idea how heaven smells like.

The first session of fire crackers used to last until 8AM and after that is a pause to stop the bursting hunger inside the stomach. I don’t know why, but the sweets taste more divine when eaten with the chemical smeared fingers :P Though for weakly immune people the side effects could be a disastrous stomach! The early morning Diwali special programs on the television were a treat and a time killer until the next bursting session would start. The day would be filled with visits to my grandparents house and if lucky, my cousin brother’s visit to grandmothers would coincide and creative naughtiness would be at the peak. New firecrackers would be manufactured by us by reverse engineering the existing ones and certain experiments have taken place that would rise several eyebrows!

I felt the same intensity every year, the same anxious wait for this festival and the same restlessness. This is my third year away from this festival and I miss it, dearly.

Stage fear and beyond

I still remember my first stage appearance from my kinder garden days. May be because it has been repeatedly reminded by my parents and from the recording I have of the lines I had to recite on stage. It’s funny, because at that age, you know nothing about stage fear. You are not bothered about the huge crowd in front of you. All what you think about is how you look in your costume! I was in total love with the police costume that I had to wear. I even wore that dress on a school day and stood out from the class for doing such a thing. The very first lines I spoke on stage “police aaga naan irunthal, polla thirudanai pidithiduvaen, kaali sirai il adaithiduvaen, kambi yenna vaithiduvaen” (If I were a police, I would catch the notorious thief, hold him in an empty cell and make him count the bars).

After this performance, I didn’t get the chance to deliver dialogues on a stage until 1998. For some strange reason, I was chosen to play the role of Nehru in a play. I had to recite a few lines, emote patriotically and wear a costume. Stage fear showed its colors. I had to practice this several hundred times and still, seeing the entire school in front of me, I went numb and sweaty. The rose pinned on my shirt fell down and caused much laughter which made me even more nervous. How I spoke those lines, I don’t remember now, but it was over!

Its funny how life transits and how behavioral characteristics change and influence. Two years later, I still could not overcome stage fear during a simple intra school cultural event and exactly one year later, I was an orator. A change in school did the magic and the determination that this new crowd should never see me sweat or stammer during a talk. Credits go to my parents who framed my talks that time.

Now I crave for the stage. It’s like marijuana to me. Every talk I hear, I feel I could have done it better and I show that in the opportunity that I grab. I feel let down if some one does not utilize an opportunity to dazzle. The latest incident being a researcher messing up precious 10 minutes in front of 25 Noble laureates and hundreds of international researchers and several funding agency directors. What a stage it was and what an opportunity to make yourself noticeable and envied. Where else would have been the perfect place to glorify the scientific greatness on India and showcase India’s greatest research works and contribution to science. It was the perfect platform to bring to notice the great Indian scientific works that would have received the Noble prize if not for a racially biased committee. And he stood there, blabbering bits and pieces of his research work in English that was incomprehensible. I am amazed that the Indian government that nominated this group took so lightly the importance of these ten minutes. I couldn’t recover from this for a week and until I lit up the stage with my performance in the DFG at Bonn.

I don’t know what takes over me these days when I board the stage. I can reach out to the entire room without the microphone and tell confidently that no one gets bored or sleepy when I talk. I feel like a whirlwind thrashing with utmost ferocity to show it cant be matched against and until its there, it has to be respected. The awed look on the audience face tempts me even more to talk. I felt highly satisfied after my talk on 10 July, especially when officials from DFG praised me and when they told me that they too got excited about doing research once again, to actually step into the lab and start making things happen.

I have inspirations too. Very first is Rangarajan of Alma matter. Hearing his speech changed my outlook towards public speaking. Next comes Cho. I like his fierce dictation and slap stick humor that he vents out on politicians regardless of their power. Then my dear father. I like his style when he stands in front of the mike, his spontaneity and the way he observes and builds upon his speech as and when he talks. Finally, APJ Kalam’s motivatory content.

Travel to the land of Tintin : Brussels, Belgium

It’s been two weeks since my return from Brussels and somehow I have been kept busy and not able to write about it. Finally, today I start when my proteins are spinning upstairs leaving me a bit relaxed in the office. Every time, my experiences are written like a guide book, but this time, I would like to write it like a journal entry or perhaps like experience sharing. Either way, I can tell you, it might be a bit long!

Brussels Zuid or Brussels Midi, the main station is just 100 minutes away from Aachen, Germany. The fast trains are a pleasure to travel inspite the fact that Deutche bahn (German rail) is always very expensive. But luck brought a 38 Euro two way ticket to me!

First things first! Everyone speaks English! Relief, especially after the sign language and grunts in Paris! Brussels is nearly the centre of Europe and had 3 official languages, Dutch, French and English. Though you can hear people dabbling away in French, they also speak good English. I didn’t hear them speak Dutch but there were advertisements and announcements. Who cares as long as they all speak English!! Makes your travel much easier and allows you to get lost happily.

Brussels is very well laid out. Makes touristic travel very cheap since all the important visits are situated around the Grote Mart or the grand place. It lives up to its name, grand place, for it is really grand. Grandeur comes to this place from its oldness. The minute you stand in the centre of the Grote mart, flanked by the Flemish bell towers and the magnificent buildings, you feel transported back to the medieval times. The place smells of roasted nuts, caramel, ice creams, chocolate, chocolate and chocolate! There are pubs and restaurants and it makes the place very enjoyable.

Situated around the grand place are the churches, Royal palace, Belgium centre for fine arts, the comic strip museum and the Mannekin Pis. A couple of minutes in the metro will take you to the Atomium and the mini Europe. I did not visit the mini Europe because I did not want the miniatures to spoil my fantasy of standing before the originals. Probably I will visit mini Europe after I have visited all of Europe!

Brussels is the birth place of Tintin amongst other cartoon characters. As a kid, I grew up on him and liked the characters very much. To actually be in Brussels, was very exciting for me, just to satisfy the Tintin hunger! Cartoons painted over several walls and buildings all around the city boast of its glorious cartoon characters and their creators.

Belgium is a very beautiful country and the travel within Belgium is very cheap, even at 300Kmph! I bought tickets to Antwerp, Ghent and Brugge in the fast trains, both ways for just 21 Euros! Enchantingly tourist friendly!

The train from Brussels to Antwerp takes 40 minutes, at 300Kmph and as usual, the very first thing that attracted me in Antwerp, more than its diamonds is the really antique look of the railway station. Though modernisation is evident interiors, the structure is perfectly antique and massive.


Walking out of the station brings you right to the diamond centre of the world. Inspite the fact that business has changed hands from the Jews to the Gujjus (no offence meant!), the best diamonds are still out of reach for me at the moment! The Meir is the shopping street of Antwerp and seriously, wow! Women will freak out shopping here. The French impression is well seen when it comes to fashion and the Dutch impression is seen on the architecture. Exotic blend I would say. The city centre of Antwerp has less to offer but the Rubin house is really worth the visit when it comes to appreciating painting. The huge metal guy looking down on you near the harbour really gets into you when you look around the brilliantly shaped city and the once biggest harbour of the world. Incidentally, Congress party will have an easy victory in Antwerp since the symbol for Antwerp is the Hand (Antwerp – from the hand).

Ghent is another beautiful city, 30 minutes from Brussels. It was a merchant controlled town laid out in great perfection. Absolutely easy to navigate by foot with the tourist map, Ghent is a real good destination for walking tour buffs like me. Oh yeah, not to forget the awesome soup I had there. I was automatically attracted to the soup salon serving only vegetarian soups with various toppings. Brilliant!

Brugge is further 30 minutes from Ghent and is considered to be the best romantic spot in the world. Well, I would not argue much for I also felt the same way when I saw the city. It’s a city which has everything. Canals, churches, a perfect city centre, boats, walks and cycle routes. It is really a huge city and would take an entire day to enjoy its history by walk and by water. Unfortunately I could not spend the evening there, but then yeah, I wasn’t with the perfect companion either!

A surprise inclusion in the trip was Ostendee. It’s a beach and was hyped to be great. Well, being brought up on the seaside, it was not thrilling for me, just a blank, bland beach. I would any day rate our good old Marina as more happening and exciting. Not even babes in bikini decorated the vast emptiness. May be it was not the season yet, but this place holds nothing special.

Waterloo would seem an exciting bet as soon as you hear the name and imagine Napoleon at war and conquered. But trust me, its nothing more than a hill with a lion on top and green fields beneath. Well, the light and sound shows and museums might be of interest, but missing this place owing to a tight budget or time is no blasphemy.

Coming to the issue, food and people. Well, non vegetarians will love the food since Belgium boasts of one of the finest sea food. Me being a vegetarian always had French fries, pizzas, falafels and the likes to fill my stomach. No complains since it was cheap and always allowed place for Australian ice creams. This is the best selling brand here and the scoops are always extra big! People are tourist friendly and like every city, the night life always attracts. Brussels is safe and locals willingly help you with directions. This city also boasts highly about its gay population and yet again it is not a threat to any male tourist!

Shopping can get very addictive in Brussels. Being the French like in fashion, Brussels offers every new fashion you can imagine of. And chocolates! I think there are more chocolate bars in Brussels than the bricks that would have gone into constructing the city!
Every street has chocolatiers making home made chocolates and selling them and you get to choose from unheard but tempting varieties!

On the whole, Brussels is an ideal place to camp and move around Belgium and even entire of Europe. Its cheap and fast railways and international airport offers the best and quick connectivity.

The spirit of my lab coat(s)

My office room has been silent for a while now. No rhythmic beats emerging from the most hit gadget in the world. Imagine the number of people hitting it everyday all around the world, wow! Huge! Yeah, it’s the key board! Anyway, this exclamation has nothing to do with the blog that follows. Just my respects to the keyboard!

Before I started on a holiday to India, I hung it in my lab.

July 2007 was when I got it, a fresh, new, stark white, thick cotton full sleeved lab coat. Class XI was the first ever when we were asked to wear lab coats. It was very exciting and believe me, even though I outgrew sizes, I wore the first lab coat I bought then, till the end of my bachelors education. In school, we used to feel proud wearing the coats. The look in the eyes of the junior students when they see us going for the lab sessions gave us a sense of superiority. Well, I had the same look of longing when I used to see my seniors! But then I learnt that most of the students picturise themselves as medical doctors when wearing the coats and still continued to hate Chemistry and lab sessions and the only time they were proud about their lab coats was when they flaunted it before juniors and maintained it stain free!

A stain free lab coat?! This is a blasphemous by my standards. Come on, a lab coat should have stains. Well, that does not mean that you are careless, its just how involved you are and if you lab coat has acid burns, then it’s a wow and thumbs up from me! And wearing a lab coat allows you to have some fun beyond what would be considered safe. I remember us signing our names with potassium permanganate solutions and spraying the coloured solutions on each others lab coats and not to mention the unlimited fundas and art work that used to roam around on each lab coat! The usual was to write ‘Kick me hard ‘on the back of some ones lab coat. Drawing danger sings, designing cloth tattoos, signing names and designed splatter of non harmful chemicals are some.

Each lab coat has been special for me and every stain always brought back memories of experiments and happenings. Here, my coat bore my name, chlorophyll stains, Trifluoroacetic acid burns, protoporphyrin streaks and the pockets contained personalised spatulas, NMR labels, and custom designed crystallisation grease dispensers and markers.

When I came back to the lab from holidays, my lab coat was missing.

I never faced a situation like this. It was suddenly like realising that you had lost your arm or leg. I searched places even where it was least probable to find it and finally complained to my supervisor and put a word to all my co-workers. They were surprised that a lab coat went missing! Guess I have some secret admirer here!!

I ordered new spatulas, new markers, made my custom equipments again and finally loaded them in a new lab coat. To wear this now is like having your memory whitewashed. But now, my new coat bears on its back, in huge fonts, “Ask me if you want a souvenir! Don’t take away this lab coat too!!”

The Volatile Dream

This post has been put on hold again and will be released to public viewing after discussions.

Fright and Flight

Nearly 6 weeks before, that was 2 weeks before my flight to India, I had to suddenly change my airlines from Emirates to Air France. I had travelled before in Lufthansa and Emirates and know pretty well about their air crafts and the baggage allowance. Well, this is the most important fear factor for everyone. Who wants to pack up excess, then throw away, simple but heart rendering stuff away in the last moment at the check in counter?! I definitely don’t want too!

So, Air France was new to me and they allowed just 20Kg of baggage. I don’t understand why people want to start a panic by discouraging them about the flight. I was discussing my India trip over the phone with my friend and as soon as he heard the airlines name, he was like “I’ve travelled once with that, its totally galeej (dirty) flight. It’s like taking a town bus in India. Rickety seats, dirty floors, not so friendly air hostesses and very bad food. Why did you have to book with this airline?” He literally took my enthusiasm about the flight, though the destination home was an annulling factor to his comments. So, I made up my mind, don’t care about the flight, just get on, think India and you are home!

The days rolled by and I had packed my baggage and weighed it, 21.7Kg. Not a big deal at all and for a frequent flier with various airlines, I knew it would pass through. Just when I was calling to say goodbye to friends, the second panic switch was pressed. “Do you know, these days everything is so strict. You flew a year back with a few kilograms excess. It’s near to impossible these days. I paid 90 Euros for an excess of 3Kg in Lufthansa and I’ve heard Air France is more expensive and totally strict. So, be prepared to pay for your excess” Well, it wasn’t really the panic button for me, but for my friend. I was carrying her expensive sarees to be delivered to her house and that was the major part of the baggage. I told her what I heard about Air France and she said she will come to the airport in morning (it was a very early flight!) and in case they demand money, she will take her sarees back. Well, it was disappointing for everyone, until check in…

The baggage weighed 22.7Kg on the counter! I bit my lips and crossed my fingers as the lady scanned my passport and visa. I could hear my friend chanting prayers that she must let the luggage through and then tadaa… It was through! No questions, no raised eyebrows, it was just through!

After crossing the first hurdle, the second one was still nudging my peace. Will the flight actually be as my friend described?! Well, I soon found. It wasn’t! I would rate it as the best one I actually flew with. Class interiors, awesome leg space, comfortable push back, tasty and good food and entertaining selection of movies! What else can you ask for?!

I don’t understand why people have to be so discouraging and negative about every airlines! Especially when someone is about to travel, isn’t it always good to put the positive points and if there arnt any positive points, why blow up the bad ones? Anyways, we cannot change the flight in the last minute just because someone tells it’s the worst! Grow up people, seriously!