playground

I hate climbing to the 5th floor of this huge building everyday, 37 Bruessler Strasse. But I have to at least for a week. I remember the first day one of our IJP friends Maya accompanied me to come to this place, all the way from Friedrich Strasse to Seestrasse she carried the huge 15 Kilo bag. Strong lady! I was really impressed! And bit embarrassed. But I did not want to hurt her feminist soul and the pride of her around carrying burden of a man, also I was carrying one rucksack and the great bike. I already told you my favorite bike story, how I bought it and what all trouble I had to sell this stupid stuff.

Maya brought me and my luggage to 37a Bruessler Strasse. Because before coming to this place from Maritim pro arte Hotel one of our friends Rebbeca Roth called my landlady and asked how to come to this place, and the landlady confused her and told that actually 37 is the number of the house but from the entrance of 37A would also be okay. But the flat is at the top of the house, it is fifth floor. So we came to 37A, and Maya left me and my huge bag of 15 Kilos, two other burdens and the bike.

I was sure, which I should not be, and in the mean time the original paper where the address was written has been taken by Maya because mission address was accomplished at least she thought, so I started climbing, making my bike stand outside the house. I started crawling with huge bags and burdens, upto fifth floor. And you know for a hyperglycemic person how difficult is climbing five storied building with those burdens. But where is Mrs Anne Syke? All five doors have different name plates, all are decorated differently, and I was perplexed. I need to ring bell, but whose? And I believed that Anne Syke lives here, in any of its apartments, where I will get my room. And also, I thought every neighbor knows each other, so ding dong, and girl peeped in followed by her mother, and tried to show sympathy, which I needed, but could not understand what actually I need. The school going girl learns English in schools I think, so she tried to understand me, but she is a child, so she wanted whole description of Mrs Anne Syke, whom I never met.

Every body knows that Hindol is a bike rider in Berlin. Nothing is unusual about biking here. Every body on wheels, life is fast, and bike gives freedom. Pollution free, good communication, I liked the concept. I miss it in Kolkata.

So on the second day of these two months stay in Berlin I bought a bike. But, you know, fund was limited, so I bought it from a second hand shop. Idea was, I need a bike, that’s it, I care a hung whether it is used or not. It was useful that was the only concern for me. Friends said that it is a stolen one, may be they were true. But all over Berlin I traveled on those wheels. Even in woods I dared to go deep because of the bike. Deepa, Hang and Yen know how stupid I am about the Berlin U-Bahn plan, where as I was reasonably okay to find the way out with the help of city map and my famous bike.

I discovered on the mudguard there was small metal plate, there was written “globe trotter”, even on one of the rods too, enhanced my pride, I noticed that it was bought from Holland and it had a number on the front rod, all red. My mother’s favorite color, so cool, and happily 55 euro slipped out from my pocket.

But I really missed to notice that this was low height bike, probably for women. And the metal stand which was supposed to attach from the main structure was broken. However wheels and paddles and chains and gears were fine, they never revolted against my mishandling. But when I wanted to say adieu to my beloved bike and wished my money back, I saw what mess I did. The verkauf shop from where I bought the bike straightly refused to buy it back, because it was a children’s bike.

“What? But when I was buying from you and asked why it looks different you did not tell me the truth! This is not done.”

But they were sticky to their stand. So, I thought, my 55 euro gone to drain. Came back home, Wannek with whom I share my apartment in Wedding told me that I have still hope, and should try some bike shops, I tried, Wannek also tried his best, we went to kreuzberg, Schonefield, Friedrichain, Hackeshar Markt where not, but no, Nicht. The bike became burden. And I already realized that only 10 euro be back out of it.

Eventually one Pakistani verkauf shop-owner voluntarily agreed to give me 25 euros for this stolen (?) bike. However, he noted down my passport number and address details. I am anxious. But feeling guts because he is a man of same region, may be troubling neighbor, but still speaks almost same language, shares the same trouble, terrorism.

(from Hindol)

Excuse me (Loud)! Excuse me (twice and faster, louder as well), -“Do you know where the Bar is called cookie?”

Trendy-sexy-cool girl of twenties, cool, but why is she such aggressive! Who is she? She never can be a German child. I am sure, because, German youth has no arrogance syndrome. At least I never have seen, except one lady in a bakery shop sounded harsh, when I asked for butter croissant. But my pronunciation was not German; she could not understand what actually I asked for, so she replied roughly but did not forget to use the term bitte end of his long bullying sentence what she completed in a same breathe. Yea you can argue, but this “excuse me”, I guess was not to seek any excuse. She wanted to stop me, midst of busiest street of Berlin Unter den Linden, and Friedrich Strasse Crossing. I replied no, already her hand was on the bell of my bicycle, and she rang twice, thrice, and said “why?”

- “What?” I replied, “Ich wiesse nicht”

- “Why? Don’t you drink?” Now tone is high, American accent is prominent. Here you are. I got it.

(from Hindol)