Berlin!

Ich bin Berliner!
Kennedy (JF of course) is supposed to have roused mobs with that double meaning entendre (credit the Germans for playing the pun on Berliner). For those of you who are challenged with the language (just as I) the sentence has two connotations:
- I am a Berliner (hoping to strike a familiarity cord, but of course) and
- I am a strawberry jam filled (German version of) donut (yes, those are called Berliners in this part of the world!)
:)
Berlin is buzz...literally. Millions jostle through the once-divided capital to consume a part of culture/art/history and whatever-else-that-may-be-up-for-grabs.
I spent three fantastic days in Berlin last week. Under the pretext of attending an academic conference I ended up with much much more than what I could've possibly bargained for.
Taking in the sights, sounds, smells and beers (several) of the city was a moving (in more ways than one ;)  experience.
Everything in Berlin seems to be on sale.
Starting with its monuments: roman, baroque, classic, neo classic to art deco (whose twins I had spotted on Marine drive in our very own amchi Mumbai) and some unimaginative Bauhaus apologies, the architecture is enthralling.
'Original pieces' of the wall, authenticated by zertifikates jostle for consumers. Turmoil, grief, loss of life and limb and an unalterable past that has pockmarked generations to come, are turned into malleable plasticine and put on sale for us 'experience' hungry tourists.
What's interesting about the city is its quality of 'lest-we-forget'. Stumbling blocks, brass nameplates of Jews who were claimed by the SS terror dot victims' former homes. The holocaust memorial is especially worth a mention. What I really liked about the place is the freedom it offers visitors to define loss and grief on their own terms and in their own ways. Loss is not only of those whose lives were recorded but the million others who got shunted out before their time.
Berlin is noteworthy not only for its architecture and its insistence on pinching itself to stay awake but also because of the blissful ambiguity it offers. It is serene to drown in its vast sea of human bodies and re-surface occasionally to ask...


Berlin, lest we forget

The sun kissed his head that morning
The head where the bullet dented a hole
And then squinted through it
As unruly blood gushed out and made a mess around the writhing corpse
Oh Berlin!
Did you scream when they were ripped from your womb?
Those children who believed in a different god?
I heard he died crossing the Spree
Was shot by communist cops, says history
Did you feel the steel as it cut through his warm flesh?
Oh Berlin!
Did she have dark hair?
Was it a baby?
Did you EVEN LOOK?
Oh Berlin!
Your stones turn away when we ask
The Gothic green is a mint
Chilled with pain the Spree flows
A giant serpent through your maligned body
Brandenburg gate is a circus of death
Chrome and glass dazzle your skies
Tell us what happened Oh Berlin
Tell us lest we forget

Comments

  1. QQ29 June 2010 at 20:24

    If you follow Tyler Cowen's blog marginal revolution, he has been spending some time in Berlin. He has written lot of entries about his time in Berlin.

    ReplyDelete
  2. tarakini29 June 2010 at 22:52

    thanks for that tip QQ...will look it up

    ReplyDelete
  3. koshish2 July 2010 at 05:08

    the contrast
    then and now
    it got to you
    and how...

    ReplyDelete
  4. tarakini11 July 2010 at 15:35

    Dear Koshish,
    Appreciate your comments :)

    ReplyDelete

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