Warszawa (Poland Part: 1)
Nov 12, 2009
As a child I always though that Warsaw was called so because it saw the big war!
Before travelling to any new place I read about it in Wikipedia, buy a lonely planet and if really really interested about it, I download documentaries, movies, buy popular books about it and get myself so high about the place that when I reach it I can tell you better than a local what to do and where to go and how to get there!
But Warsaw was different, and so was Poland. The only thing I ever knew about Warsaw was that a popular pianist gave his last live performance on Polish radio before the Germans moved into the city. I never knew that Oskar Schindler was from Poland and the movie that is based on his life and bears his name was shot on the streets of Krakow, that Madam Curie is from Poland and that her second discovery Polonium is a dedication to her motherland, that the first man ever to say that the sun was the center and not the earth is also Polish, Nicholas Copernicus!
And thus armed with no prejudices and a brief intro to the city and the country I landed in Frederic Chopin Airport of Warsaw (named after the pianist).The first surprise was that an all inclusive 3-day public transport card costs just 16 Polish Zloty, that’s 4 Euros!
After getting high on War history watching the WWII Specials on History Channel all month, my 1st stop in Warsaw was the Warsaw Rising Museum (Muzeum Powstania Warszawskiego)
The Warsaw Uprising of 1944 was a heroic and tragic 63-day struggle to liberate WWII Warsaw from Nazi occupation. Undertaken by the Home Army (Armia Krajowa, AK), the Polish resistance group, at the time Allied troops were breaking through the Normandy defences and the Red Army was standing at the line of the Vistula River. Warsaw could have been one of the first European capitals liberated; however, various military and political miscalculations, as well as global politics — played among Joseph Stalin, Winston Churchill and Franklin D. Roosevelt — turned the dice against it. 
This museum is dedicated to all those who fought for their freedom in the Warsaw Uprising as well as all those who, as civilians, perished in the effort.
A fantastic effort to recreate the days of the uprising, inform in a simple way what happened, how it happened and why it happened, ghastly videos, amazing exhibits and the centrepiece: A wall with a heartbeat which also recounts the experience of those who lived through it! The best part of the museum was a huge movie screening unedited clips from the uprising. It had to be counted as one of the best museums’ I’ve ever been in!
As a result of the uprising, Le fuhrer ordered complete destruction of Warsaw, all inhabitants to be exterminated, and the city razed to the ground, left as a dot on the map! Thus the beautiful city of Warsaw was destroyed.
With this background, I walked into the newly re-built old Warsaw expecting some Art Deco buildings, a few cafes and a bunch of tourists. What I saw there completely blew my myths!
Plac Zamkowy is the first glimpse that anyone would get of the Old Town but it’s the Rynek Starego Miasta which is the true heart of Warsaw. Dominated by the Zygmunt's Column, which towers over the beautiful Old town houses and the brick red Royal Castle, the castle square is steeped in history. Here was the gateway leading into the city called the Krakow Gate (Brama Krakowska).It became to develop in the 14th century and continued to be a defensive area for the kings. The square was in its glory in the 17th century when Warsaw became to country capital. And it was here that in 1644 King Władysław IV erected the column to glorify his father Sigismund III Vasa, who is best known for moving the capital of Poland from Kraków to Warsaw.
The Old Town in autumn is a marvelous place, and I really mean it. There are no crowds of tourists; in fact, there are no people whatsoever, and it all seems so empty, so unhampered. I walked around the Statue of Zygmunt and spent a few minutes contemplating the Royal Castle in the rain pelting down. I wandered around the cathedral plastered to the adjacent building until I reach the Old Town Market. The place is totally devoid of people and traffic, there are no beer gardens or drunken youth. I took the liberty of approaching the monument of 'Syrenka', a symbol of Warszawa.
For the gourmet in me, eating at a "bar mleczny" -- or "milk bar" -- is an essential Polish experience. These super-cheap cafeterias are a cheap way to get a meal, and, with the right attitude, a fun cultural adventure.
In the communist era, the government subsidized the food at milk bars. The idea was to allow lowly workers to afford a meal out. The tradition continues.
Milk bars offer many of Poland's traditional favorites. Common items are delicious soups, a variety of cabbage-based salads, fried pork chops, and pancakes. At the milk bar, you'll often see glasses of watery juice and -- of course -- milk. My favourite was Pierogi Ruske!
At milk bars, the service is aimed at locals. You're unlikely to find an English menu. If the milk-bar lady asks you any questions, you have three options: nod stupidly until she just gives you something; repeat one of the things she just said; or be one of those rude “pointers” who point at text in the menu randomly. If nothing else, ordering at a milk bar is a fiesta of gestures. Always remember, smile and the whole world smiles with you! I was lucky to have a list of Polish food written down on a sheet of paper before I left for Poland.
My milk-bar dialogue usually went like this:
Milk Bar lady: "Prosze?" (Can I help you, please?)
Me: "toe" (while pointing)... "i to" (pointing again) ... "i to" (pointing once more). It means, "That ... and that ... and that." (Or atleast that’s what I think it means!)
After three days in Warsaw, there is but one striking memory. A young Polish girl on Nowy Swiat (new world street) was telling me how great the city of Warsaw is and how great a man Pope John Paul II was. Almost as if to prove her argument, she took out her iPhone and showed me the video of a young pope, on his first papal pilgrimage to Warsaw, towering over a millions in the crowd talking with passion about the city:
"It is impossible to understand this city, Warsaw, the capital of Poland, that undertook in 1944 an unequal battle against the aggressor, a battle in which it was abandoned by the allied powers, a battle in which it was buried under its own ruins—if it is not remembered that under those same ruins there was also the statue of Christ the Saviour with his cross that is in front of the church at Krakowskie Przedmiescie. It is impossible to understand the history of Poland from Stanislaus in Skalka to Maximilian Kolbe at Oswiecim unless we apply to them that same single fundamental criterion!
We are before the tomb of the Unknown Soldier. In the ancient and contemporary history of Poland this tomb has a special basis, a special reason for its existence. In how many places in our native land has that soldier fallen! In how many places in Europe and the world has he cried with his death that there can be no just Europe without the independence of Poland marked on its map! On how many battlefields has that solider given witness to the rights of man, indelibly inscribed in the inviolable rights of the people, by falling for "our freedom and yours"!
"Where are their tombs, O Poland? Where are they not! You know better than anyone—and God knows it in heaven".
I wish to kneel before this tomb to venerate every seed that falls into the earth and dies and thus bears fruit. It may be the seed of the blood of a soldier shed on the battlefield, or the sacrifice of martyrdom in concentration camps or in prisons. It may be the seed of hard daily toil, with the sweat of one's brow, in the fields, the workshop, the mine, the foundries and the factories. It may be the seed of the love of parents who do not refuse to give life to a new human being and undertake the whole of the task of bringing him up. It may be the seed of creative work in the universities, the higher institutes, the libraries and the places where the national culture is built. It may be the seed of prayer, of service of the sick, the suffering, the abandoned—"all that of which Poland is made".
All that in the hands of the Mother of God—at the foot of the cross on Calvary and in the Upper Room of Pentecost!
All that—the history of the motherland shaped for a thousand years by the succession of the generations and by each son and daughter of the motherland, even if they are anonymous and unknown like the Soldier before whose tomb we are now.
All that—including the history of the peoples that have lived with us and among us, such as those who died in their hundreds of thousands within the walls of the Warsaw ghetto.
All that I embrace in thought and in my heart during this Eucharist and I include it in this unique most holy Sacrifice of Christ, on Victory Square.
And I cry—I who am a Son of the land of Poland and who am also Pope John Paul II—I cry from all the depths of this Millennium, I cry on the vigil of Pentecost:
Let your Spirit descend.
Let your Spirit descend.
and renew the face of the earth,
the face of this land."
Posted bySandeep Sekharamantri at 1:44 AM 4 comments
10 things I did in Poland
Nov 1, 2009
1. Checked out the capital Warsaw
2. Understood Warsovian pain during the uprising
3. Saw Pope John Paul II's speech in an iphone
4. Ate Pierogi & drank Zabrowska
5. Made new Polish friends
6. Visited Krakow, Poland's biggest tourist draw
7. Paid homage to the millions of Jews who perished in Auschwitz
8. Rolled with the crowd in Polish Airforce open day
9. Spent lots and lots of Zlotysch
10. Ate all many meals in Bar Mleczny
Posted bySandeep Sekharamantri at 11:58 PM 1 comments
Flying to Europe (Part 1: CDG)
Aug 6, 2009
For the average Indian (yours truly) who has grown up watching Indian films; BigB and Rekha creating magic walking across the Dutch Tulips in Silsila, Rahul traveling to Switzerland in Darr, Guddu and Raj bonding in London in K3G, Raj romancing Simran in DDLJ all across Europe; For him, America may be the land of opportunities but Europe is where any Indian would love to live, for it is the land of dreams to him!
The chaos and excitement (for the most part Chaos really, I had less than 45days to prepare for this!) that I had built up for this trip made me believe I would have that "Ooooooooh" moment the minute I land in Europe.
So I took the 10hour flight from Benguluru International Airport and landed in Paris. Charles De Gaulle airport is a synonym for Chaos! My first experience off Europe is people running around like madmen. Curses in French, some babbling in Afrikaan, weird looking sheiks from the Middle East, some Israelis, a Polish family that looked like they were escaping a Nazi camp, hundreds of backpackers sitting under every pillar of the terminal! Oh my God! Amidst all this I walk past all queues (I was a privileged business class traveler :-) ) straight to the business lounge. A quick nap later I walked across the terminal hoping to try the premiere degree in French that I got 6 years ago! "Bon Jour Mademeoiselle, comment allez-vous?" was replied with a curt bon jour and I am guessing a scorned look on her face! Oh yeah, the French are xenophobic. I found a computer with internet and struggled with the french keyboard for 1hour before finally giving up.
I walked up to the terminal from where my connecting flight was to take off to Amsterdam. I was totally surprised by the number of Indonesians, South Americans and Africans who were traveling to Amsterdam. Apparently their Dutch connections from the Imperial era still continues.
I walk in and sit in my flight to Amsterdam and realise that I had spent 5hours in Europe and felt nothing different from being in Rajiv gandhi airport of India. Maybe it was that overhyping the Europe experience, maybe all airports are the same, probably France is not a good place to start from, or even worse, maybe it is not that awesome after all! Brooding over these thoughts I sit in my flight preparing for takeoff.
And then....
"OOooooooh Eiffel tower!!!!!"
Posted bySandeep Sekharamantri at 12:02 AM 0 comments
The future belongs to India
Jun 11, 2009
In preparing for a much publicised debate in London on the motion ‘The future belongs to India, not China’, I was reminded of a conversation with my mother. She had asked, what is the difference between China growing at a rate of 10% and India at 8%? I replied that the difference was, indeed, very significant. If we were to grow at 10% we could save twenty years. This is almost a generation. We could lift a whole generation into the middle class twenty years sooner. She thought for a while and then said gently, ‘we have waited 3000 years for this moment. Why don’t we wait another twenty and do it the Indian way?’
She had understood that the cost of democracy is the price the poor pay in the delay of their entry into the middle class. She did not elaborate the ‘Indian way’ but it must include taking a holiday on half a dozen New Years Days! It is easy to get mesmerized by China’s amazing progress and feel frustrated by India’s chaotic democracy, but I think she had expressed the sentiments of most Indians who will not trade off democracy for two per cent higher growth.
In referring to the ‘Indian way’, my mother meant that a nation must be true to itself. Democracy comes easily to us because India has historically ‘accumulated’ its diverse groups who retain their distinctiveness while identifying themselves as Indian. China has ‘assimilated’ its people into a common, homogeneous Confucian society. China is a melting pot in which differences disappear while India is a salad bowl in which the constituents retain their identity. Hence, China has always been governed by a hierarchical, centralized state-a tradition that has carried into the present era of reform communism. China resembles a business corporation today. Each mayor and party secretary has objectives relating to investment, output and growth, which are aligned to national goals. Those who exceed their goals rise quickly. The main problem in running a country as a business is that many people get left out.
India, on the other hand, can only manage itself by accommodating vocal and varied interest groups in its salad bowl. This leads to a million negotiations daily and we call this system ‘democracy’. It slows us down–we take five years to build a highway versus one in China. Those who are disgruntled go to court. But our politicians are forced to worry about abuses of human rights, whereas my search on Google on ‘human rights abuses in China’ yielded 47.8 million entries in 13 seconds! Democracies have a safety valve-it allows the disgruntled to let off steam before slowly co-opting them.
Both India and China have accepted the capitalist road to prosperity. But capitalism is more comfortable in a democracy, which fosters entrepreneurs naturally. A state enterprise can never be as innovative or nimble and this is why the Chinese envy some of our private companies. Democracy respects property rights. As both nations urbanize, peasants in India are able to sell or borrow against their land, but the Chinese peasants are at the mercy of local party bosses. Because India has the rule of law, entrepreneurs can enforce contracts. If someone takes away your property in China, you have no recourse. Hence, it is the party bosses who are accumulating wealth in China. The rule of law slows us down but it also protects us (and our environment, as the NGOs have discovered).
We take freedom for granted in India but it was not always so. When General Reginald Dyer opened fire in 1919 in Jallianwala Bagh killing 379 people, Indians realised they could only have dignity when they were free from British rule. The massacre at Tiananmen Square in 1989, where 300 students were killed, was China’s Jallianwala Bagh. China today may have become richer than India but the poorest Chinese yearns for the same freedom.
Because the Indian state is inefficient, millions of entrepreneurs have stepped into the vacuum. When government schools fail, people start private schools in the slums, and the result is millions of ’slumdog millionaires’. You cannot do this in China. Our free society forces us to solve our own problems, making us self-reliant. Hence, the Indian way is likely to be more enduring because the people have scripted India’s success while China’s state has crafted its success. This worries China’s leaders who ask, if India can become the world’s second fastest economy despite the state, what will happen when the Indian state begins to perform? India’s path may be slower but it is surer, and the Indian way of life is also more likely to survive. This is why when I am reborn I would prefer it to be in India.
—-
The writer is speaking in a debate in London on 12 May 2009 in support of the motion ‘ The future belongs to India, not China’. The original post can be read here
—–
Posted bySandeep Sekharamantri at 9:21 PM 1 comments
My 3POD!
May 19, 2009
Oh, yeah! I finally got a tripod, a good one year after I bought my camera!
Better late than never I say. :)
Posted bySandeep Sekharamantri at 7:11 PM 0 comments
The Journey
Apr 17, 2009
Posted bySandeep Sekharamantri at 5:50 PM 0 comments
Labels: auto, bus, bylakuppe, music, namdroling, photos, Tibet, Travel, youtube
Tibetan Flavour in Karnataka
Mar 31, 2009
I finally get over my 140 character limitation
The greatest wonder about Bylakuppe is not that a place like this exists but where it exists. Thousands of miles from Tibet, the last thing you would expect in a nondescript interior Karnataka village is to find the largest Tibetan settlement outside of Tibet!
Hemant is a great chap and shares by passion for travel. The destination is for the tourist. For travelers like me and hemant, its the journey that matters. Thus on new year's day, me and Hemant set out on a journey in pursuit of peace and tranquility in times of uncertainty. We boarded a Kushalnagar bound bus at Kempegowda bus stand and at 250 bucks for both of us we were well in sync with the economy! After a nice bumpy ride in the back seat of Karnataka Sarige for five interesting hours of travel/china/adult art/Tibet/religion/honchos at shell/doomed politicians/photography we got off at Koppa.
Soaring inflation seems to have given this village a miss. 8km auto ride cost us 30INR. 5 minutes into the ride the landscape changed abruptly. Roadside hawkers, cows, garbage, and ramshackle huts disappeared. These were replaced by prayer flags, stupas and monasteries of the Sakhya, Kagyur, Nyingmapa and the yellow-hat Gelguppa sects of Vajrayana Buddhism. The statutory Kannada sign boards were replaced by prayer signs in Tibetan. It was as if both of us were teleported into a foreign territory.
We reached our first stop, Sera Jey Health Care Committee (SJHCC) guest house, a small and beautiful location. The monk in the reception was happy to see us. It was already late in the evening. Thus, after a quick chowmien we decided to wander around in the bylanes. Just as we stepped onto the road, a sea of burgundy robed monks swamped the route. Like the Ganges gushing through a delta, the monks came in from all sides onto the main road. It was unbelievable to watch 4000 monks fill in the voids between the buildings. 
We followed them to the Sera Jey University for Adavnced Buddhist Studies. and obsereved them for quite some time, puzzled and bewildered at the constant jumping and clapping they were doing. An elderly monk from the examination board explained to us that they were actually debating. The monk who was sitting was asking questions and the monk standing would answer, always ending it with a clap!
Day 2 started with yet another hot chowmien. We realised after a quick chat with the monks that there were bigger treasures hidden behind the rustic buildings of the Sera Jey village, territory usually left unexplored by the banal tourists! We meandered through the unusually clean village gallis and landed in front of Sera Mey University for Monastic Studies. The Sera monastery was originally founded in 1419 in Tibet. Historical records indicate that the Monastery's total population of monks in 1959 before the communist Chinese troops destruction & persecution of Monastery & monks,was around 5629 monks! The event of 1959, that witnessed the invasion of Tibet by the communist China, was the darkest period in the History of Tibet and its religious faith - Buddhism. It brought the near end of centuries old Monastic Culture and Practice, by the indiscriminate destruction of monasteries and persecution of monks. Sera Mey Monastery was one of the most severely affected from this spiritual & cultural genocide. The Tibetan government in exile then re-instituted this holy institution in Bylakuppe.
After a breezy clicking session and prayer we decided to visit the golden temple, the biggest monastery in the region and also the most visited by tourists. It is quite some distance away from Sera village and we were lucky to be offered a lift by an army major and his wife driving by a car en route Mysore. They were pleasantly surprised to find two young engineers spending an extended weekend in a Buddhist Monastery of all places. The old man was very curious to know our last names! The old lady generously gave us some fruits and they dropped us off a km away from the Golden Temple.
If you think a Buddhist temple would be filled with smoke, reeking of butter, throbbing with the chants of the monks and perhaps a gong or two sound in the distance, think again! The entrance to the main temple comprised of two gigantic red doors with handles and carvings in gold, intricate murals based on Tantric Buddhism adorn the walls. A profusion of color hits you once you eneter the temple. Silly tourists asking their companions to pose in myriad dance forms, despite a board stating "this is a temple and a religious place"! Three larger than life giant statues, once again gold plated, took centre stage; these were placed on a platform. Buddha around 60 feet tall held prominent place, flanked by Guru Padmasambhava and Amitayush.
It was here that we came to know that Penor Rinpoche, The former head of the oldest school of Tibetan Buddhism, breathed his last at his residence the previous night. The monks held a condolence ceremony followed by prayer for the holy departed soul. After a whole day of clicking and peace in the temple, we made our way back to Sera Jey to sit and observe the debating session.
Day 3 began with the best pooris I ever had (Best because it was the cheapest!!!). I topped it up with some original momos from the Tibetan Kitchen. Most of the shops were closed as a mark of respect to the Rinpoche. We were initially disappointed, but later saw this as an opportunity to explore the entire settlement. We walked around aimlessly, clicking randomly, windmills, basketball courts, future Tibetan rebels. Monks carrying mobile phones, wearing Reebok shoes, or even sipping Pepsi did not surprise us now. After all, as Thomas Friedman said, "The world is flat". Unfortunately we couldn't find any monks who were putting up their Ferraris on sale!
After a really tiring walk back to SJHCC, we packed our bags and headed towards Kushalnagar where we boarded a bus to Bangalore, thus ending a really fruitful weekend.
Posted bySandeep Sekharamantri at 7:55 PM 10 comments
Labels: Buddhism, Tibet, Travel
