Sitting on the 22nd floor of a building two blocks away from my office, I gazed at the plethora of lights shimmering on the Frankfurt skyline. The last ray of sunlight was being retracted away from this part of the world and yet I could not see the moon making its way upwards. The sky, now a hue between deep blue and black, arched over a maze of Victorian houses and modern commercial complexes - some of them towering higher than the one I was in.
I could hear soft music playing in the adjacent hall, sometimes punctuated by the clattering of glasses, or the sound of collective cheering and laughter. The air inside this segregated room at the corner of the floor smelled mildly of wine and cheese. A circular puff of smoke entered my line of sight from the right and slowly wiggled its way across. It collided with where the hauptbahnhof was plotted on the window pane and disappeared. I could feel someone touching my arm gently as I heard a question.
"Cigar?"
Maria enquired smilingly as she offered me the roll of tobacco, with her elbow resting on the large round beech table that occupied most of the room. A thick white smoke was oozing out from the left corner of her lips.
When you are in the company of people you have only recently met, it becomes difficult to judge what would be a good way to refuse a polite offering. The only person I knew in that group was Adam, a colleague from office, who had insisted I accompany him to a graduation dinner with a bunch of his friends.
"It will only take an hour", he had said, "and then you can go back to work. Besides, they need some advice and I think you are the right person. I already told them you are coming." And that is how I had met this motley group - Maria, Philip, Eric and Gabriele.
Not wanting to become one of those epidemiology data points I so often work with as part of my profession, I chose to decline the cigar humbly with a "No, thank you" and a smile in return.
I could hear soft music playing in the adjacent hall, sometimes punctuated by the clattering of glasses, or the sound of collective cheering and laughter. The air inside this segregated room at the corner of the floor smelled mildly of wine and cheese. A circular puff of smoke entered my line of sight from the right and slowly wiggled its way across. It collided with where the hauptbahnhof was plotted on the window pane and disappeared. I could feel someone touching my arm gently as I heard a question.
"Cigar?"
Maria enquired smilingly as she offered me the roll of tobacco, with her elbow resting on the large round beech table that occupied most of the room. A thick white smoke was oozing out from the left corner of her lips.
When you are in the company of people you have only recently met, it becomes difficult to judge what would be a good way to refuse a polite offering. The only person I knew in that group was Adam, a colleague from office, who had insisted I accompany him to a graduation dinner with a bunch of his friends.
"It will only take an hour", he had said, "and then you can go back to work. Besides, they need some advice and I think you are the right person. I already told them you are coming." And that is how I had met this motley group - Maria, Philip, Eric and Gabriele.
Not wanting to become one of those epidemiology data points I so often work with as part of my profession, I chose to decline the cigar humbly with a "No, thank you" and a smile in return.
"Are you sure? This is special. You should at least try it once. It's difficult to find otherwise."
"Actually, I don't smoke."
With a casual upward movement of her shoulders, she passed the roll to Philip, who gladly accepted and slowly took a puff.
"OK. What would you like then? How about a Martini? Or would you prefer a Heineken?"
"Well, I don't drink either."
As if taken aback by my response, she conjectured - "Really? You're from Delhi, right? Based on what I know, alcohol is quite popular in your country. In fact, I have a lot of Indian friends and my image of a typical Indian guy is one who drinks and smokes all kinds of stuff all night and then wakes up next morning with a lot of headache and a lot of regret."
"Well, then I guess I'm not your typical Indian guy. I'd rather have fun seeing a drunk Beercules than become one myself. And to be honest, I think you haven't met so many of us to have a substantial sample size for your hypothesis. Besides, there are states in the country where the government's attitude towards liquor is similar to its attitude towards the polio disease."
"Yeah, this guy is boring", Adam interrupted with a grin. "Except for his wicked sense of humour. And, as per internal company sources, his dancing skills."
"Oh, that is interesting!", Maria chuckled.
"Don't be surprised", Eric jumped in. "I recently spent two weeks traveling to various Indian cities; which, by the way, was super cheap. It seems the locals there have good dancing skills in general. Maybe they learn from their Bollywood movies where the music videos take up half of the run time. I once went to a discotheque in Bumbay. People there were dancing like crazy, throwing their arms and legs wildly in whatever space they could find in that packed hall. I think we Germans are more restrained when it comes to dancing, but the Indians like to go all out."
"Yes, I guess that is an innate talent we share, although I wouldn't speak so highly of me. Nevertheless, you should come to one of our marriage processions and see for yourself", I proffered to the rest of the group.
"I've been to one in Day-lee. That is quite a sight, with the horse and the dresses and the blaring 70's music." Adam winked his approval, and the others looked like he had piqued their interest.
Eric, although was unfazed. He looked at me and then continued, almost in an accusatory tone.
"I have a question for you though. Why do people in India rub their bellies against your back whenever you are standing in a queue or a crowd? And then they keep pushing you like a lawn mower. I found it everywhere - whether it be the discotheque, a cinema theatre, a railway station or a superstore. It is very annoying."
Treading carefully, I suggested:
"I don't think anyone would do that intentionally to get some depraved sense of pleasure, or you were living amongst some really plump people. Not that I agree it happens so often, but a rational answer would probably be 'due to space limitations'. India's population is 15 times that of Germany, whereas the land area is only 10 times. Also, the relative size of urban areas compared to total land is much lesser than in the developed countries, resulting in a high population density in the cities. Any small urban facility is therefore not large enough to accommodate so many people. The cities you have been to probably include metropolitans like Delhi or Mumbai, each of which are home to upwards of 10 million citizens and guests. And life in these cities is both difficult and busy; time is precious and patience costly. That explains the likely cause for your unpleasant predicaments."
"I get it. But can't they just stand apart by an inch? Especially when the weather is so hot", Eric retorted.
Observing that the argument was not going in a favourable direction, Philip intervened, much to my relief. "Let's order", he proposed. "We can't talk for so long on an empty stomach. What would you like to have, Arnav?"
"Any good vegetarian food that you can recommend?" I acknowledged his timely intervention with a silent nod.
"Oh, I'm not the right person to answer that question. My only recommendation would be that you should start eating meat if you want to stay here for long."
"Nah, I'm fine with living on Italian and Mexican cuisines. Besides, I have figured out a few Indian places I can go to every now and then. I can suggest a few you guys might like as well."
"How can you eat that food every day? It's too spicy for my liking." It appeared Eric wasn't quite open to the idea.
"Spices and condiments are a part of our tradition. I grew up having salts and spices in my meals whereas you are probably accustomed to food with little or no flavour additions to the primary ingredients. So I prefer some garlic or chillies in my food while you don't. It stems from a difference in culture."
"Sure. Would love to." I thanked her for the gesture; kindness is a virtue I value highly.
She responded with a warm smile and went back to reading the menu. As the others discussed their own preferences for dinner and drinks, the language suddenly switched to Deutsch. I could only make out a few phrases in between the sentences.
Assuming that I could no longer contribute effectively due to my limited domain (and linguistic) knowledge, I diverted my attention towards the panoramic view from the window. Little white dots had started appearing in the sky; which was otherwise unchanged. The number of cars plying through Frankfurt's streets were now fewer in number. An occasional pedestrian walked though one of the many crossroads in this perennially illuminated city. A junkie tiptoed through a dark alley, swaying like Santa Claus dancing to the tune of 'Jingle Bells' at Christmas.
I have no idea how long I had been engrossed in studying the streets when Maria whispered into my ear, "Isn't this a nice view?"
A little startled by her presence, which I had forgotten for that period of solitary observation, I answered - "It is awesome! I always wanted to get a glimpse of the city from higher up".
"Do you see that elegant white building? That is the Old Opera. We also have a new opera. There it is, with the garden in front", she said, her finger pointing to a more contemporary structure about a kilometre away. I recalled 'Occupy Movement' activists protesting for days in the same lawn during one of my previous visits. "Adjacent to the Opera is the CommerzBank. Further in that direction is the Main river, where you can see those bridges. You should go there some time."
"Yes, I've been to the riverside once with a friend. Quite peaceful."
It seemed the rest of the group had noticed by this time that I had been left out of their conversation.
Philip was the first to apologize: "So sorry we started talking among ourselves in German. We were discussing a final case study assignment due for submission on Monday. Would you mind sharing your ideas on the case after dinner? We were hoping we could use a consultant's help - for free, obviously."
Flattered and amused, I assented with "I'll be glad to be of any help".
Gabriele was the second. "My apologies, Arnav. I should have known you don't speak Deutsch. Anyways, tell me a little more about yourself. Do you have a background in management?"
Feeling like an expert with no expertise, I truthfully answered with "No. I am an engineer."
"Which university did you go to?" Eric questioned with a curious look on his face.
"Indian Institute of Technology. I won't be surprised if you haven't heard of it."
"You mean IIT Chennai? We have an exchange program with that university", Gabriele asked enthusiastically. It was I who was taken aback this time.
"It's the same parent institution, but at a different location called Roorkee in northern India."
"I hear guys from IIT are smart. Why is that? I received my GMAT score yesterday, which is 600, and I was happy. But then Adam told me this morning his Indian colleague had a 760. Must be from an IIT, I think. Now I'm just hopeless about my own chances."
"IITs admit students through a tough nationwide exam after rigorous academic preparation, with about 200 thousand candidates competing for 3000 seats. And so these universities usually get the brightest students. Although I don't believe that graduates from other universities are not intelligent and cannot score a 760."
"Have you been to Chennai then?" she inquired, changing the topic a little abruptly.
"No, although I want to. It's in the southern part of the country, which I haven't explored so much."
"OK. I've watched 'Chennai Express', the movie. That's how I remembered the name. Can you remind me who the main actor was? I kind of like him."
This was my second surprise of the night.
"You mean Shahrukh Khan? I didn't know you watch Bollywood movies."
"Oh, yes. Is he popular among girls in India?"
"I think so. Although some new actors are now starting to steal the limelight."
"Do people in Chennai also speak Hindi?"
"Not many of them. Chennai is largely influenced by its own regional language. Hindi is spoken mainly in the northern states. India is otherwise a multilingual country with more than 20 officially recognized languages."
"Wow! So many? Can you speak Hindi? Is it popular in Delhi?"
"I can. And yes, it is spoken by the majority of Delhi's population."
"One of my Indian friends was telling me Delhi is not safe for girls. I also recently read an article which indicated that the country has a very high crime rate against women. Is that true?" Maria touched on a subject that I had been dreading.
"Sadly, that is true. Although the crime rate is lower in southern parts of the country."
"Why is it so bad?"
"Honestly I don't have a right answer. I think it is because our society is largely patriarchal and also very orthodox. Throughout our long history, women have not been treated as equal to men, a notion I strictly denounce. Their responsibilities have been curtailed to tending to the family and performing household chores. This has led to a false impression of their place in society, especially among men who are rarely taught the virtue of respecting the fairer sex. This is more so in the North. However, this perception is slowly changing, at least in urban India."
Philip came to my rescue again. "What is one thing you like about India?", he asked.
"A rather unique trait that characterizes our culture is the importance of family. We try not to drift away from our parents and siblings once we start a career or get married. I like the fact that young Indian boys and girls are still unabashed living with their parents while they are studying, or even working at a job."
"Hmm. Living with one's parents here after a certain age casts doubts on the person's ability. So it's not very common."
"One more question from me", Gabriele demanded politely, with a funny look on her face. She probably had had too much apfelwine. I hoped it was the last.
"If you were asked to choose between Delhi and Frankfurt for spending the rest of your life, which one would it be?"
This one was easy.
"Delhi, definitely. I like traveling and can probably even stay away from home for a year or two, but I'm too Indian to be able to permanently live anywhere else."
