closing thoughts

Well, if you think about it, there is nothing extra that this section of the blog is going to tell u, or anything useful, for that matter of fact. But then, given that I initially set out to pen down my thoughts and impressions of these three months, we lost, regained and lost that perspective again through the cruise of this blog. It is probably fitting that this blog should come at the end of a year illustrious by my standards, and at the end of which I stand at crossroads of my life. But anyway, so much for some other day, in here I will try to sum up what I originally set out for.

I have tried to make this blog an enjoyable reading, though there is no way for me to know that (not that I care, but anyway). This covers mainly the stuff that was great for me, mainly in its uniqueness. What it so conveniently ignores is the great time we had in Munich itself. We had a wonderful fella for a flat mate, and we had great amount of fun together, even in the most mundane of acts. What I could no way have put in here, except for this blog, was those amazing (well, it did not look like it at that time :-))hours in the kitchen, with “the black album” blaring the background. There is no mention of the kind of routined mornings we had, corrected to the minute. The everyday bhasad on getting up, cramming our breakfast while listening to Reckless (Bryan Adams), and how antenna bayern became an important part of our lives, given the scarcity of English once we were out of the office. The office work itself was no less fun. I kind of looked forward to Mondays, quite against the general opinion, mainly because I got to check my mails, and correspond with people. The work in itself was not a big deal, but it never deterred the fun. The office lunches, which I just somehow was able to get past through my throat, the escapades in the cold night after smuggling Domnic’s bike out of the house, the soccer games (yes!!) at Ost Park, even the loiter about the streets, devoid of any care or worry in the world – well, now that I think of it, there is little that did not feel good.

Perhaps the best part of the entire trip was the kind of perspective it gave me, although that may not be the most appropriate word here. Not only a perspective about the world in general, about other people, other cultures, but also about the ‘other’ sex, which, I think was all a part of the learning process. After all, isn’t that the aim of every pursuit, the enhancement of faculties, and development of a perspective? To that end, perhaps these were one of better three months of a learning period that I enjoyed.

There was never supposed to be anything special about the last week, and although there was the thrill of going back home, of showing stuff to family and friends, but then, I would be lying if I said I was not heavy at heart. The week went on with some last minute work, and a disco as well (we had a hearty laugh at teja’s expense, ask him :-)), and my last day Sektparty, where the scene was kinda emotional. It may not have been so much, but, well, I myself was, so perhaps that is what makes me think so. It really felt good when almost everyone asked me about what my future plans where, and whether I would like to come back, and that it was nice to have me there. I normally don’t care, but this time somehow I did, perhaps because these people were so helpful right from there start, and having them around was a great help. The grill party at the house of my guide was yet another not-so-tourist experience which was really memorable.


Saturday shopping and roaming alone in the streets of Munich was not a big help, with rain pelting down, and reminding me of the day when we came here. Why, the appearance was not really different, with soggy, bleak and cold all around, except that the excitement was converted to a resignation-of-the-inevitable kind of feeling. Sunday was planned as the last meeting between me and Mudit, at the Deutsche Museum, but the dumbass that I m, I never woke up in time for the scheduled meeting, and although I spent Sunday there, I never ran into him. All the thoughts that I had that day while returning was, why, this is the last time I m seeing Marienplatz, and the last time that I m boarding an S-Bahn, and the last time that I m taking a U2.

Monday was no less bleak, and the entire day was spent packing. Well, not entirely, as our house owner had come over to settle the bill, and Domnic had returned from his weekend, plus we had to run back and forth to get a good bouquet for Frau Lutz, our housekeeper all these days, who took so good care of us, left us gifts, and did our work, without once ever asking anything, in fact, not even showing her face (she used to come after we had left for office, and what we found after returning was pressed clothes, tucked in beds, and washed supper table). A good old taxi (Mercedes make) escorted us to the U-Bahn station, just as one had escorted us out of another one. Somehow, I couldn’t help but feel that somewhere my mind was playing games with me, by repeating the scenes, even the weather, from my first day in an unknown land. Not that it helped the departure, set as it was amidst silent brooding, but then, perhaps that is the way it was always contrived to be! We called up Domnic for one last time from the airport, using up the last of what was remaining of our last calling card. We ran into some of our friends, although that was not really what soothed me the most at that moment. It was getting dark by the time the plane started its run, to the moment of lift-off, breaking my last contact with foreign soil, as if signaling a weary end to an exhausting day. It doesn’t matter if ever I get a chance to go there again, it doesn’t matter if ever I have more resources at my disposal, this trip will always occupy a special place. Rest assured, it can never be the same, two 20 yr olds, without food, water, or a place to stay, in short, devoid of anything but enthusiasm, and the inquisitiveness of a 4-yr old kid confused in a shopping mall, lost in translation.