Federer, and a Sunday

Apart from getting up very late and missing three hours of work that's due for tomorrow, the Sunday had started on a reasonably high note. Arrival of two important emails that I had been waiting for since weeks, extension of the deadline for a very important conference, a wonderful news from a close friend, and finally, a teeny-tiny bit of leftover chocolate spread found in the jar while searching for possible breakfast ideas- somehow managed to slightly twist the otherwise crabby-looking lips to a familiar U shape. Unfortunately, my morning failed to show the day. Hence, in the end, I ended up looking like the Grumpy Cat, feeling like the bright yellow-colored substance and sensing the heart being broken into thousand tiny pieces. All that, because of one particular gentleman named Roger Federer. 

So, today was the Men's Single's Wimbledon Final. Djokovic versus Federer. Given the current form of the latter (who, by the way, was in the Wimbledon finals today after two long years), I had hoped and prayed for an exciting match and a result that skewed entirely in my favor. It did, till the 4th set, and then something happened. Something very very wrong, that pulled the heart out of the chest and tied it around the throat (if it sounds gruesome, imagine how it felt). In a matter of seconds, Federer had lost the game, the set, and the match. It was the end. The expectations, prayers, nail-biting, and the hope to finally see the look of immense happiness on the guy's face when I would tell him that Federer had won- all over. I sat motionless for a while. Then got up, moved around in the apartment contemplating murder of anyone and everyone, and finally sank in the bed and cursed. The feeling of immense disappointment and hurt, however, did not last very long. That, also because of this one particular gentleman named Roger Federer.

Roger Federer is one of the very few men I am completely in awe of. Not just me, Federer-love happens to run very high in the immediate and extended family too. The brother is a huge Federer fan, so is father. The guy is more of a fanatic than just a fan, and so are a few close friends. I, myself, am somewhere in between. Since ages, I have been fascinated by the sheer genius, poise, style and strength of the man. For me, he is greatness redefined on-field. Evidently enough, today's loss, that too at his most favorite ground, came as a shocker. But soon after, I was reminded of something that took away the pain of virtually watching him fail at the Centre Court today. What, you may wonder? Federer versus Youzhny. Gerry Weber Open, 2012. Halle, Germany. The day, coincidentally, was a Sunday too. And, Roger Federer, was just a few meters away :)

Long story short, after having uselessly planned for years, spontaneity got the better of us and we went to watch Federer play at the Gerry Weber Open in Halle. The match itself was a dream, and we had to pinch ourselves to believe that we were actually witnessing the greatest player live in action. We watched in awe the maestro, as he maneuvered his way into the Finals. After the match and subsequent press conference, the huge crowd gathered near the exit to catch a glimpse of the man. A while later, he came out, waved at the crowd and started signing autographs. We were crestfallen at that time, having been mercilessly pushed backward every second and hence convinced that our tryst with the great man would die an untimely death. But, we were proved wrong. He continued signing autographs and shaking hands for the next half an hour, stepping out of the barricade to reach the fans at the far end, and smiled and smiled. In that instant, he was not this top-ranked millionaire tennis player with 17 Grand Slam titles, but he was just one of us. It was then that I figured why Roger Federer was beyond on-field success and failure, beyond record-book records and prize money, why Roger Federer was loved and respected by millions, and why that day I experienced a familiar warmth in the heart :)

So what, if he lost the match today? So what, if he failed to achieve his 18th Grand Slam title? He won hearts, millions and millions of them, and that's what matters in the end. Not sure what I mean? Just watch the replay of today's match (or any of Federer's match) and listen to the intensity of the cheering he receives from the crowd, and you'll know.

P.S. Some of the pictures from the Gerry Weber Open. Ingredients that recipes of perfection are made of :D

The World Cup fever in Spain

Indeed the result so far does not look convincing enough.

Indeed my ignorance about football equals that of a certain Sen's in politics.

But there's no harm in soaking in the World Cup spirit when I happen to be in the port-city of the defending champions, right? :)

P.S. I found this super awesome video on the web and was left salivating for hours. What a perfect, perfect way to enjoy the World Cup :D

Time travel

Do you know the feeling when you come out of an airport exhausted, simultaneously dragging and cursing the mountain of luggage, and your scrutinizing eyes finally rest on a familiar face in the sea of people? When the ears turn red, the vision blurs and the heart skips a beat? When you forget all about the marathon flight, the long delay, the years of separation, and instead just grin from ear to ear?

Source: Google 

It was right after my higher secondary exam when Baba brought home our first personal computer. The brother and myself were thrilled beyond words and we spent every waking moment exploring it. Be it late into the night, in the middle of a working day, or right before an exam, there was no way we two could be un-glued from the computer. Besides computer games, one of our most-favorite pastime was browsing through numerous wallpaper websites and changing the desktop wallpaper everyday. However, there was this one particular wallpaper that we both adored, and hence stayed on the desktop much longer than usual. It was a picture of an old castle, in the middle of snow-clad mountains, that looked straight out of a fairy-tale. We had stumbled upon it randomly one day and therefore had no clue of its whereabouts. But it was enough to make a teen-aged me realise what love at first sight meant!

It has been a decade since then. I have grown from a starry-eyed teen to a (pseudo)mature woman, have traveled extensively, lived some of my dreams, and experienced personal and professional growth. But in all these years, never did I come across the sight that had made me go weak in the knees years ago. Until recently, when I finally experienced my Cinderella moment and realized that it was totally (with as much stress on the word as possible) worth the wait.

Neuschwanstein Castle. That's what it is called. Built in the nineteenth century under Ludwig II of Bavaria, the enormous neo-Romanesque style castle is located in the hills above the village of Hohenschwangau in Bavaria, Germany. It can be reached within an hour from Munich and therefore serves as a perfect weekend getaway for tourists. The Hohenschwangau village, located close to the small town of Füssen, is set at the foot of the breathtakingly beautiful Bavarian Alps (German Alps). The most efficient form of transportation to reach the castle from the village is walking through the dense green forests, although there are a number of transportation options available. The castle itself is one of the most popular tourist attractions in Europe, drawing more than 1.3 million people each year. In fact many of Disney's movies have implicitly showcased the castle as the epitome of romance, and rightly so. There are not many accommodation options, especially if you are a poor PhD student or a budget traveler, and therefore it is advisable to plan the trip in advance. The official website of the castle also provides detailed information on how to reach, opening and closing hours, transport facilities and other practicalities, which makes the trip hassle-free even for a non-German-speaking solo female traveler.

Itinerary aside, the rest is nothing but pure magic! All you need to do is sit on an imaginary time-machine and helplessly fall in love, all over again :)

View from outside

Rotate you head ninety degrees and this is the view you'll get :D 

The castle entrance. 

Look behind, and this is the view that meets the eyes. 

And this! (I visited the castle twice in two days,
hence the mismatch in the color of the sky :D) 

From the inside

Tourists, queuing up for the guided tours.

The panorama from the castle. If this is not breathtaking, what is? 

The Neuschwanstein from the Marienbrucke. *gasp*

Up close, and dreamy!

Not only is the castle stunning beyond words, the entire Hohenschwangau village presents mind-numbing panoramic views of the snow-covered Alps and the Alpsee and Schwansee lakes. Hohenschwangau itself boasts a royal castle of its own and a museum of the Bavarian kings that are worth a visit.

The Hohenschwangau Castle

The Museum of the Bavarian Kings, located just beside the Alpsee lake. 

The lake Alpsee. Relaxing on a bench by the lake, icecream in
hand, and a clear sunny day- ingredients that recipes of perfection
are made of. 

And then, all of a sudden, this! Happiness, doubled.

The Lech river just at the border of Austria.

The river-beach, captured through the lens of its sole admirer :)

A place this beautiful is bound to take the breath away and leave one speechless. However, nothing in the world prepares you for the sight when you get up in the morning, look out the hostel window and suddenly catch a glimpse of the fairy-tale castle, radiating in the fresh morning light! Surreal? That's the word.

What's cooking?

Of late, I am noticing that the number of cooking blogs being posted on Facebook is growing by leaps and bounds each day. There are days (which happen to be almost everyday) when the news feed overflows with pictures and recipes of food, food, food and more food. Breakfast food- check, lunch and dinner food- check, mid office snack- check, desserts- check, Indian- check, Asian- check, Continental- check, Mexican- check, and the list goes on. No, I am not at all against cooking blogs or posting food pictures on social networking sites. On the contrary, the amount of effort, patience and creativity put into cooking fascinate me to no extent. And ofcourse, it leaves me salivating, putting 'Pavlov's dog' to shame. 

I, perhaps, am the worst cook in the whole world. No, not even the worst cook. Far below the worst. In the last two years that I have lived alone, friends and colleagues have made futile attempts to make me cook. They have made fun of me, threatened me, forced me, tried to teach me. But nothing has worked. I have nonchalantly ignored them and continued eating salad and bread for breakfast, lunch, snacks and dinner. To be honest, I am quite okay with it. More than okay for that matter. People have often wondered how I never crave for home cooked Indian food, given that I always claim that eating is a part of my soul. Agreed, I love to eat. Eating IS a part of my soul. But then there's something else that defines me. Lyadh! Lyadh (which when translated means the highest degree of laziness), is, according to me, THE path to Moksha. Hence, the effort needed to keep the other part of the soul happy has got lost somewhere. 

Having said all that, I can as-a-matter-of-fact make four things. No, not CAN (as it might mean that I am good at making these). I have managed to MAKE four things in the past. Chocolate/Vanilla cake (blindly following the easiest-recipe-on-earth from Ma),  pasta (after being spoon-fed by the guy), Chili Paneer (with cottage cheese, that took me three hours instead of the usual 30 mins) and Aloo Dum (again from Ma, and super-simplified given the Lyadh). I am not proud of any of my achievements. Infact I feel nothing but sorry for the person who has been on the receiving end of my cooking expedition. But then, isn't love all about pushing tasteless food down the throat and making the 'wow-it-was-so-good' face? :D

Enough self-loathing done, this post needs a face-lift now. And what better than to end it with a proper food picture from my stock! Two months ago, I made Luchi for the then-room-mate. It is a traditional Bengali flatbread made of flour, to be had with curry on a Sunday morning. In the beginning, I was all excited at the prospect of making my first ever Luchi. However, by a cruel twist of fate, just before starting I figured that the rolling-pin essential to make the dough was missing. When all attempts to acquire/borrow/buy/.. a rolling-pin ended in disaster, we decided to invent our own method. The end-result: A hilarious looking Luchi, prepared, using a bottle of red wine instead! :D 

Narcissism

Being a strong believer of "Stressed when spelled backwards is Desserts", nothing in the world makes me happier than indulging in chocolates and cakes and anything that has either of these two words. As a result, people who know me well enough (or otherwise) invariably end up gifting me variations of these on birthdays, anniversaries and other special occasions. However, while the love for desserts enjoys an undivided attention, personalized gifts come a close second on my happiness-index. Personalized anything- be it a hand-written letter, note or a diary, a self-made card, sketch or a cake, home-made liquor or a pair of gloves- takes away the pain of a not-so-great day/week/month and fills the heart with immense joy. 

The reason for this unabashed proclamation of preferences is the fact that the week happens to be the week of adding another feather to the 'i-am-getting-old' cap! While friends and family haven't left a stone unturned in reminding me that I am fast approaching the very wrong side of twenty, the customized gifts accompanying such nasty remarks have made me wonder if I am the most loved (and not to mention the most materialistic) person in the world! :D

Indeed, presents make me happy. Very happy. Dancing-in-the-clouds kind of happy. And when they happen to be someone's DIY's (Do It Yourself), the happiness knows no bounds. So, while a tiny hand-painted birthday card with scribbling all over moistens the eyes, a three-page letter about bad-handwriting pulls the cheeks apart. While a collage of 'over the years' pictures becomes the reason of a big lump in the throat , a filled-in diary becomes the reason for many sleepless nights. While a digital testimonial makes the heart fall in love all over again, a hand-made cake with a single candle and a chorus of cheerful voices adds the icing on top. 

Celebrating a special day away from home is never easy. Celebrating a special day attending seminars all day and feeling suicidal afterwards on account of a horrible discussion with the supervisor is perhaps the worst. But then there are certain ingredients that recipes of contentment are made of. Thankfully, I have some.

On another similar note, I came across this phrase today on Facebook (originally by Audrey Hepburn): "I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls". A few sadnesses here and there, no wonder I looked the prettiest when I looked at myself in the mirror tonight. Also, no wonder I have named the post Narcissism :D

Pencil on paper

Last month while visiting home, I came across a wooden sailing ship, casually displayed on the window of an interior decoration showroom. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and all I could do was stand outside and ogle the 'magnum opus' with lustful eyes. And then, as all my dreams came crashing down with a single look at the price tag, I decided to own it nevertheless, by hook or by crook! :D

Reviving the old habit. Pencil-shade, after ages. Happy feelings.

Memories in March

They say, home is where the heart is. I say, heart is where the home is. The last one month has been all about that.

I visited Calcutta after a year and a half. Amidst the usual pampering and spoon-feeding, night-outs, weekend trips, sudden plans and the nostalgia, writing took a back-seat (as did work, the PhD, conference deadlines, Skype discussions with supervisor). But then, as an angry child desperate to regain the lost attention, it fought its way back into my priority-list and forced me to serve its demands in these wee hours :D

Home, as always, was great. However, the highlight of the trip apart from the usual madness, was the three-days trip to the land of Rabindranath Tagore, with the best friends, during the festival of colors. That *life-is-beautiful* kind of feeling, experienced.

Santiniketan is a small town in the Birbhum district in West Bengal, India. Internationally, the place is known for its association with the famous Bengali Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore, and attracts thousands of tourists each year. Although numerous cultural events are organized throughout the year, the place is best known for its Poush Mela (in December) and Basanta Utsav (in March, during Holi) celebrations. Luckily this year, we were part of one such :)

The train journey from Calcutta to Bolpur, Santiniketan takes approx. 3 hours. So the place serves as a perfect weekend getaway for many. There are also several accommodation options, from cheap hostels to fancy guest-houses, and can be booked at short notice. However, visiting Santiniketan during one of these festivals can be tricky (and annoyingly messy) and therefore it is advisable to plan the itinerary well in advance. Alternatively, if you believe in spontaneity (can also be read as stupidity by some), you can ofcourse do what we did- pay an unplanned visit :D

We stayed at the Bharat Sevasram, located in a small village called Muluk, some 5-6 kilometers from Santiniketan. This required us to travel daily, back-and-forth. But what seemed like an ordeal in the beginning, turned out to be the most enjoyable part of the trip. 

The color festival, with its utter mismanagement, was not overly impressive. Also, the fact that most of Santiniketan, including the entire Visvabharati University campus and the famous deer-park remained closed during this time, left us disappointed. However, the ambiance in and around Santiniketan, the enthusiasm of people, the breathtaking handloom and handicraft collections, the mesmerizing Baul singers, the peaceful sunset on the banks of the Kopai river, the mindless strolls taken along the deserted village roads and the not-always-perfect conversations on the balcony on a full-moon night gave us memories of a lifetime. 

The famous laal-mati (red soil) of Santiniketan. *mentally humming country-roads-take-me-home while writing this* 

Sanibarer Haat- a weekly craft fair organized by the West Bengal Tourism, that presents outrageously beautiful and inexpensive collections of traditional Bengal handicrafts, decorative items, hand-made jewelry, textiles and more. 

Muluk being explored, on foot, on a hot Summer day, and later, rest under the shades of the palm trees. Breather. 

Often, people ask me if I consider myself fortunate to have been given the opportunity to travel to new countries each year. I always answer in the affirmative, given that I consider traveling synonymous to breathing. However, one doesn't need to visit Europe or the US to experience the joys of traveling. Small happinesses of life can also be discovered in a tiny village, from the indecipherable yet serene look on a Grandma's face :)