Why Denmark resembles India?

I secretly admire watching Danes break traffic signals. It’s so very Indian. On rare occasions when Texans walked, they started a second after traffic signal turned green, Danes start as it turns orange and Indians nonchalantly walked even when it’s red. A common joke proudly floats around among Indians; if you can drive in India then you can drive anywhere. Danes might learn to drive in India but my NASCAR loving Texan buddies never would. I love it.

I can’t believe it’s been 4 months in Copenhagen. It feels like only yesterday when the beautiful CBS exchange crew girls were welcoming us at the airport. Time really did fly in Denmark faster than the local Metro train. Looking back, as I always do, there was definitely something which made my stay in this city of unisexual toilets remind me of my birth place New Delhi. Though still struggling to eat an open Danish sandwich, I feel at home here. I enjoyed Texas but even with chicken tandoori dinners I never felt at home. I wondered why.

I was in awe of America. Blame it on CNN. Blame it on silly Bollywood movies shot in rapturous California. Blame it on stories of Indians who made fortunes in US. Blame me. I think I was more curious to meet the Texans than otherwise. Indians in US are as common as cycles in Copenhagen. We are everywhere. Would a Dane jump with joy meeting a Swede in the LA bar? Nah. Going by how much the Danes drink beer and party, I thought they would be as aware and curious about ‘those- IT-outsourcing-Indians’ as I’m about Henrik’s major: nanotechnology. None. I was amazed by the spectacle of half-drunk Danes wanting to know about India in Danish parties. I was amazed to hear how many of them had actually traveled to India. Indians in Denmark are as like Danes in India. Novelty.

I noticed Texans stepped back, if for a relative stranger, you get within a couple of inches of them. They didn’t share rooms either. They valued their privacy. I was brought up watching guys or girls walking hands-in-hands without ever any sexual preferential connotations. Our privacy radius is comparatively small. So is for the Danes. When sober, you can get pretty close to them and talk. They seem confident while touching. Without any sexual preferential connotations. Anyways, the privacy radius goes for a smoke whether in New Delhi, Bombay, Texas, Chicago or Copenhagen after Saturday 2 AM.

India is colors. Danes love colors. Pink, yellow, green, blue, black and red. Young and old Danes carry off stark red colored shoes, blue framed sunglasses and yellow helmets with élan. Even the little grocery shops strutting fruits and vegetables on sidewalks unknowingly pour colors to the eyes. It feels like an Indian wedding all day long. Show me three adjacent houses painted brown, yellow and red in Texas and you can have all my Indian spices.

Danes and Indian students (in India) are messy. We just don’t clear our tables after eating. See Solbjerg Plads’ canteen at 2 PM: mess. Dishes, tissue papers, cutlery and beer glasses are thrown all over the place like there’s no tomorrow. Texans had picture perfect trash bins. You leave dirty dishes on the table and next moment you are called on “Sir, you have stuff to take care of”. Americans liked it clean.

Or maybe it was Henrik’s parents’ invitation for a family dinner which eventually made me feel at home in Denmark. I met his mom, dad, brother with his girl friend, grandpa and uncle. They all had gathered to meet me. I dined everything traditional Danish: Flæskesteg, Tortelletter, Kartfoler, Brun sovs, Gele, Asier, Rødbeder. I also won the almond while savoring ris a’la monde med kirseber, got gifts and correctly pronounced ‘Rødgrød med fløde’ as jocularly told to. Grandpa was talking to me in Danish, Henrik translated it in English to which I replied in English and he translated back in Danish to his grandpa.
There are some things money can’t buy. It really can’t.
What a beautiful world.


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America-India-Denmark

Easy come, easy go

Oh! Copenhagen. I cherish every hour of my stay in this beautiful city. With only a couple of courses in the first quarter, my studies were moving as slow as Solbjerg Plads’ computers. Even with 4 courses in the second, one would expect some madness but nothing really gets mad here. It’s come as you are – casually. Easy. Relaxed and easy. But Copenhagen still manages to be like a mysterious lover: just when you think you’ve figured her out, she makes you yearn for more. In the day you see smiling cyclists, gentlemen bus drivers and road side musicians, the night lets the gorilla out. Brimming bars and pubs, straddling wild lovers out yelling and monochromatic punk haired body pierced Danes invading Nørrebrogade. Unbridled.

Digitally speaking, the classes at CBS are like online friendships Easy. Relaxed and easy. Nothing to worry about – even if you don’t leave an offliner (don’t participate in class). Nobody gets mad if the PowerPoint presentation sometimes doesn’t work or if YouTube videos don’t load. Some students nonchalantly come an hour late to the class, but when they do, half the students turn around to see who it is. Texans never came more than 5 minutes late, would only roll their eyes to see who did, then got back listening to the lecture. Occasionally when you voice chat (bring up a lively discussion topic), do the students get into the groove. In India, we took short tea breaks between classes. Texans grabbed energy drink. The Danes… a lot of them head for beer. But the professors are smart, entertaining and sassy. If the Indian professors were Tom Hanks, they are like Madonna. Texas A&M was David Letterman. Danes aren’t the debate loving animals, no wonder they don’t have as many silly talk shows on the local television. Try watching an Indian news channel someday.

For someone brought up in Indian classrooms watching girls cry for finishing second in the class and guys losing sleep over fewer slides in presentation, I often feel CBS is like cutting too much slack. I remember those days when spending 10 minutes on ‘glossy exotic erotica’ charred the following 20 minutes with guilt of wasting study time and potential loss of 10 ranks in qualifying examination. Indians don’t make ends meet by playing sports. Well, not a lot do. All we won was one medal in Athens Olympics. Our cricket team sucks as well. We slog it out in the classroom. Brutally. CBS is way too gentle. Take the career fairs! Texan career fairs were politically correct, immaculate and business professional in attire and approach. They were like talking to your boss. Scandinavian fairs are carnivals! Company representatives seem like your mates in the beer bar. I was so terribly underdressed for the Texas fairs. I was terrifically overdressed at the CBS ones. Easy. Relaxed and easy.

Well, talking of girls, Henrik and his friends think Danish girls are ‘hard to get’ but for a stranger I’ve been making good progress. My 142 pound frame gets ‘checked out’ in Copenhagen twice as often than Texas by the interested sex. The Indian and American anecdotes in the parties have led to cosy dinners. Sweet. Unlike America, the local femme fatales aren’t in the hottest cars. They aren’t a fleeting phenomenon where the latest Volkswagen model beefs up their sex quotient. They casually glide past you walking or cycling, giving you a wee bit more time to exchange vibes.

The ‘event’ of kissing seems like finding a Starbucks in US. Easy. As I write this, sitting by my window, I can see a couple passionately kissing on Nørrebro station. I go to Føtex to buy eggs and I see couples kissing in checkout queues. I go for a walk to Peblinge Sø, I see couples come cycling together, pause at red traffic light, start kissing and off they go cycling again as the light turns green. I think it’s just me who isn’t kissing in Copenhagen. While ordering my pizza I occasionally encounter full page ‘model of the month’ nude women in the newspaper, sometimes get free ‘lust catalogue’ in some coffee shops or see ‘fabulous striptease’ advertisements in ‘Copenhagen This week’. Now I can laugh looking back at my teens when I used to slip out in nights on pretext of buying vegetables to shady alleys to inquire the inventory of whatever-you-can-get porn magazines hidden under the rug by shady book sellers.

Texans were proud and loud, New Delhiites were street smart negotiators and New Yorkers were narcissists and worried. Danes are soft and reserved. Except the Saturday 4am road side fist fights at Nørrebro Station, if you ask me, it’s hard to be unhappy living here.

First unedited article for 'The Battalion'

STATUS REPORT: Texas A&M, College Station, USA
LOCATION: 30º 36’ 5”N, 96º 18’ 52”W
FASHION STYLE: Under investigation
VERDICT: Aggies are fashion laggards

It’s conspicuous.
We are not the fashion campus of Texas or America.
The End.

Now listen why.

Aggieland never was.

We were never the wild child. Jackson Pollock is God here to as many who rate Blocker as the hottest building on campus. We don’t graffitise campus with abstractionism. The African vibrancy, Eastern spiritualism, Parisian suave or Las Vegas flair is as latent as the urge to attend Monday morning class at 8AM.
We are the home of country musicophiles. We are the home of traditions. We are the home of the affable. We are the home of the 12th man. We are not geeks.

We don blue denim with maroon pullovers with yawning regularity. Without doubt, it psychologically dents visiting teams in Kyle Field into ennui; unfortunately enough, it does with the same effect outside. And the potently seductive intelligentsiastic campaign in a long time ‘Saw ‘em Off’ is being (pur)sued by UT. Maybe it’s the UT’s undercover conspiracy not to let us climb the satirical-fashion ladder.

“Fashion is not something that exists in dresses only. Fashion is in the sky, in the street, fashion has to do with ideas, the way we live, what is happening” once spake fashion First Lady Coco Chanel.
Yes, the braids are there. Yes, the noses and ears are pierced.
Yes, the handbags glitter. Yes, the Beetle (over)speeds University Drive with chicks.
Yes, there is Jack E. Brown engineering building. Yes, there are Corp Cadets.
And yes, there is North Gate (at Friday 1AM).
But, we don’t (won’t) set the ramp afire.
College Station is as laid back as a crocodile in the sun, we love the weather, we love driving the trucks, there is no rush to out compete anybody and the campus is Bushesquely imposing and boring.
We are happy. But we aren’t sexy.

Remedy?

1. Drape Blocker building.
2. Or blame UT. I’m with you.

God bless America.
God bless Texas A&M.
God dress Texas A&M.

http://media.www.thebatt.com/media/storage/paper657/
news/2007/02/09/Opinion/Maroons.Out-2708984.shtml