Part 1: Where my inner Railway Child rejoiced

Posted on Tuesday, December 26, 2023 by Deepa

 I'm a Railway Child. I've grown up in railway colonies, played in railway clubs and moved wherever my father's Indian Railways job took him. I love trains - traveling in them, watching them chug past, railway stations, engines - everything  about the railways fascinates me. I get very upset if people are critical about the Indian Railways - because once you experience the railway life, it gets into your blood and you are forever a Railway Child. 

The Maeklong Railway is a 65km long, metre gauge line, that runs between Wongwian Yai, Bangkok, and Samut Songkhram in central Thailand. To the uninitiated a metre gauge line refers to the 1 metre width between two parallel railway tracks. There is about 95,000 km of railways in the world that still runs on metre gauge. In India, it is one of four types of railway gauges, although the metre gauge is fast disappearing due to extensive gauge conversion. 

The Maeklong Railway in Thailand is a popular tourist spot, known as Talat Rom Hup in Thai, meaning the "umbrella pulldown market". The shops and stalls are literally an inch away from the railway track. Whenever a train is scheduled to pass, an alarm is sounded. The shop awnings etc are pulled back to let the train pass and then put out again. For this reason, the market is also known as Siang Tai or life risking market. To me it seemed like a metaphor of life itself, where the train represented significant happenings from which we take a step back, allow it to go past, and then resume our daily life again. 


Maeklong is actually two pieces of history that are co-existing now. The market pre-dates the railway track, in existence since before the railways came to Thailand. It is one of the largest seafood markets in Thailand. Tourism websites note that despite being visited by thousands of tourists, it is still a fully local market selling seafood, meat, vegetables and other commodities - where seller and buyer are all local. 

According to our tour guide William, the track was built to supply the royalty with fresh sea food everyday. This, however, is likely to be a piece of fiction, as various websites suggest, that the railway was built for speedy delivery of fresh seafood to the provinces around the market, including Bangkok. (Although it is quite possible that the royal family got first dibs on the produce). The market remained where it was and the railway track simply cut through it, making it the popular tourist destination that it is today. I wish I could write more about the history of this local fresh food market itself. But most websites speak of it only in relation to the railway line that cuts through it. 

The Maeklong Railway Line consists of two parts separated by the Tha Chin river. The first section consists of 20 stations and the second 15 stations. As there is no bridge connecting the two sections, at Mahachai station, one gets off, takes a ferry to the other side and then continues on by train to Samut Sonkhram on the Mae Klong river from where the line gets its name. It sounds so romantic to the leisurely traveller, where the journey is more enjoyable than the destination. 

When I arrived here, at around 8am, I was not quite sure what to expect. The tour group walked up to the main Maeklong Railway station and were left free to wander around. The scene was no different than any typical Indian market - busy, bustling with activity. Vendors setting up their shops for the day, fresh produce being displayed. Flowers, fruits, vegetables and an assortment of sea food. I felt right at home and was happy to wander around, smiling at the women who called out to me to buy their wares. I got myself a cup of coffee just as the warning sounded for the approaching train. 

At astonishing speed the vendors rolled up their shop awnings, displays and shutters to make way for the approaching train. The teeming groups of tourists quickly flattened themselves on the side as the train slowly chugged past. Apparently it is one of the slowest trains in Thailand averaging a speed of only 30kmph and with no signals on the line. Just like everyone else, I whipped out my phone and videoed the train as it went past, stopping to wave at the grinning passengers inside the train. 

As the last coach trundled past, I wondered if there was an equivalent to this anywhere else in the world? What about our own India? Surely the Mumbai slums must have a train or two going through them? While not at 30kmph, it was slow enough to see people go about their 'morning business' along the tracks. Sometimes we even got to view some 'Crown Jewels' I thought with a smirk, as I boarded the coach for our next destination. 

Another market, but a very unique one. 


Note: All photographs posted here are taken by me. 

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Prologue: The story of my travels in Thailand

by Deepa

 The 14th century traveller Ibn Batuta said, "Traveling - it leaves you speechless, then turns you into a storyteller". This is me, attempting to tell the story of my travel to the '..even more amazing Thailand', learning about its history and culture, and in the process, perhaps something more about myself. 

2023 has not been kind to me. I lost my beloved mother after prolonged illness. I am grieving her loss while also trying to care for and support my father, who is also grieving, having  lost his companion of 63 years. I'm sick and tired of hospitals and speaking to doctors only induces anxiety and stress. My husband tries his best to support me, but often gets his head bitten off (poor lovely man!) as I try to juggle a job, my care responsibilities and the loss of my mother. What I really need is mental and emotional time out. 

At least in that respect, 2023 has sucked a smidge less, because I got an opportunity to travel to Thailand for a few days on official work. I combined this with a few days off time and returned home refreshed, more composed and feeling able to get on with my life. 

So the story of my travels in Thailand took me to the Maeklong Railway Market, the Damnoen Saduak floating market and the historic city of Ayutthaya. These are very popular spots where tourists throng by the thousands. What was unique for me is that I travelled solo. 

Women are often uncomfortable about traveling alone. Maybe it has to do with safety concerns or discomfort with having curious gazes focused on them. What I discovered is that these are fleeting issues. That once you get your head around it and focus on enjoying yourself and the places you've chosen to visit, it becomes a pleasurable pursuit. No scratch that - it becomes an empowering pursuit. You discard your everyday worries, tap into your reserves of courage....perhaps discover a facet that makes up the kaleidoscope that is you...meet a new you.  And in that there is that elusive thing...your agency. 

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The Typology and Psychology of WhatsApp Groups

Posted on Saturday, June 27, 2020 by Deepa


The Typology and Psychology of WhatsApp Groups

I have a love hate relationship with WhatsApp groups. And the choice between love and hate (psychology) is determined entirely by the nature of the group (typology).

The taxonomy of WhatsApp groups are principally as follows:

1.    Genus Familia: One where you are related to the members of the group. These maybe sub classified into Immediate Family (father, mother, siblings), Extended Family (cousins, aunts and uncles) and Maritalis (spouse and in-laws). Immediate and Extended may sometimes be combines. Maritalis, however, might deserve a genus of its own.

2.    Genus Alumnae: One where the group evolves out of having studied in some or the other educational institution – school, college and beyond

3.    Genus Corporatum: One that emerges on account of having worked with an organisation either in the present or the past.  

Each genus exhibits its own set of behaviours and oddities among the members which, have either retained or chased me away from these groups.

Genus Familia – Immediate and/or Extended Family: This is a great way of staying in touch with your near and dear ones. One gets to experience the intense joy of being wished Good Morning and Good Night at various times during your day, as and when the sun rises or sets in the country where your various relatives live. You are in the enviable position of never forgetting anybody’s birthday and you get beautifully designed festival wishes which you then promptly forward to other groups. Of course you might have to deal with the odd uncle in northern Canada who immigrated a generation ago, reprimanding you for your lack of patriotism, if you ever spoke a word against Hinduism (or is it Hindutva?). Depending on whether you lean left or right (well mostly right), you might get into arguments with a numbskull cousin in the US who thinks that Howdy Modi was absolutely the last word in Indo-US foreign relations. Next level really. This might lead to the rest of the Genus Familia turning on you and precipitate your departure from the group. Peace will reign after this exit. But that is another post.

Maritalis is slightly tricky given the sensitivities involved. The behaviours are pretty much the same. But one has to consider carefully what and how one responds to…say a Swarajya Mag article that is presented in the group as the pinnacle of high thinking. The implications of offending an in-law are grave, especially if the dissenter is female. One usually retreats into silence and looks for opportunities to furtively exit the group. Some members of this group are eagerly awaiting when they can exit the group without it being announced as ‘xxx has left’  

Genus Alumnae: Technology has made it possible for us to remain in touch with classmates and buddies with whom we spent our childhood and grew into adulthood, exploring the vastness of the ocean of knowledge and discovering the joys of learning. Except when you realise that some have drowned in the ocean while others have not touched even a drop. The one that drowned aka The Intellectual, will climb the virtual soapbox, delivering a splendid soliloquy every now and then. Often these are met with awkward silences (oh yes! Awkward silences in WhatsApp groups are very much possible), causing said intellectual to get into a loop where it seems as if they are having a debate with themselves. Or there might be a word-off between those known to be adversaries during their student years, with each taking extreme positions and refusing to yield. Any attempt to defuse the situation might cause heads to be bitten off. There is also the possibility of the group hiving off into other groups of more ‘like minded’ members. I speak here chiefly of groups of graduate school alumni. There are school groups as well. But as I have steadfastly refused to join them, I’m unable to comment. Rumour has it that the levels of stupidity one encounters here are unprecedented.

Genus Corporatum: As mentioned, there are two families under this genus. The group of current employment, where you might be in a group of your team or your department. The overt purpose of these groups is to be connected and keep colleagues informed about goings on in one’s industry. But the real purpose is actually to maintain an ongoing process of high quality performance management by keeping your manager (or any manager really), abreast with how wonderful you are at your job with real time data. There is also the additional advantage of stoking some healthy envy…er…competition among your peers.  

The second type of group are those formed to connect with people who we used to work with. This is a risk laden enterprise. Although you may lay down rules and ask that people not waste your time with unnecessary forwards and political statements, nobody actually gives a fig about rules. You meet once again the person who made the lamest jokes at which nobody laughed and realise that they continue to do so. You re-encounter the school boys who never grew up. You re-acquaint yourself with the fake ones, who rose so high that the ground beneath their feet is not visible to them. And you once again gag at those whose sole purpose in life is self aggrandisement. You relive all the reasons which caused you to exit the organisation and decide to stick with the pleasant memories and quit the group.

There is one more emerging genus. The Genus Apartment Complex. I am a recent entrant to this group and do not have sufficient empirical data to be able to theorise about its psychology.

Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person or place or WhatsApp group is coincidental.




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Chronicles of a Sari Wearer : The Colour Purple

Posted on Tuesday, March 10, 2020 by Deepa


In the run up to the International Women’s Day this year, a mail popped into my mailbox. HR was inviting us to celebrate the day by (among other stuff) wearing purple. That made perfect sense. Purple is the official color of International Women’s Day, founded more than a century ago after some 15,000 women marched in New York City to demand better working conditions and voting rights.

I was thrown into a quandary. Running through a mental catalogue of my wardrobe, I realized that I did not have any outfit in that colour. Till…wait! There was that gorgeous silk sari that my sister had gifted me for my birthday a year back. Yes. Problem solved. I would wear a sari to work on the designated day.

Now sari wearing plans are easier made than executed. At least for me. It requires meticulous planning, at least 24 hours in advance. The sari has to be matched with the correct blouse and petticoat. And most importantly, the blouse has to fit.

Fit – a tiny three letter word. But with enormous significance when regarded in terms of the commute to work and back and an eight hour work day. It had to show off one’s silhouette perfectly, while also allowing sufficient space to breathe comfortably. Be snug and loose at the same time. A huge ask for an item of clothing, especially for those of us flirting with the wrong side of the body mass index.   

Ever the optimist, I took said sari out of my cupboard, hunted for and found the ‘matching blouse’. Made of the same fabric, it was of recent antiquity, having been stitched just a year and a half ago. So I was pretty sure it would fit in the way that I want it to. Did I try it out to be sure? No. Did I note that the cut was different? No. Did I remember that, unlike my other blouses, it did not have buttons down the front, but a zipper down the side, under my left arm? Of course not.

Imagine my horror then, when, come D-Day, I stepped out of the shower and realized that the blouse could not be worn without assistance. So I hollered for the husband, who, prince among men that he is, stepped up readily to the task. And gave up thirty seconds later.

“The fabric will tear if I pull”

“Hold the ends together and then pull. It won’t tear”

“Turn this side. I need more light. Wait, let me put on my glasses”

Some progress. But there was quite a way to go.

“How long has it been since you stitched this blouse?”

“About a year and a half. Why?”

“You’ve put on weight”

“Do you do this on purpose?! Get some perverse pleasure in pissing me off?”

After much tugging and pulling, the zipper finally slid into place. And left me feeling like a swaddled baby. Barely able to breathe.

Further conversation ensues with the husband.

“I can barely breathe”

“Yeah. Risky”

“What?”

“Better carry a spare blouse with you”

“And how do you suppose I’m going to take it off without assistance?”

“So what do we do now?”

“Help me get it off!”

More tugging and pulling ensues, till I’m finally free of the torturous blouse. Oxygen floods my lungs. I start breathing again.

“What will you do now? You’re supposed to wear purple”

“Well I like breathing and staying alive”

I finally settle on a blue top and beige trousers and take myself off to work.

When a colleague points out that my outfit isn’t exactly purple, I snap “Well, its purple adjacent!”

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Good bye

Posted on Tuesday, July 30, 2019 by Deepa


Six o'clock. She rose from her desk and started gathering her things. On any other day, it would have involved bagging her laptop, putting her phone and glasses into her handbag, taking out the exact change for her train ride home and a series of cheerful 'bye! see you tomorrows' to her colleagues.

Now there was no laptop to bag. She had handed it over to the IT department half an hour ago. Along with that, the office issued phone. All things surrendered and a 'no dues certificate' signed and submitted.

Done. Complete. It was her last working day here.

She thought back to the last eight years. It was a complete cliche she supposed. But could not help herself.

She recalled her first day at the office. The security had not been briefed and nobody knew that she was a new joinee. Until a very junior looking guy had vouched for her and said - yes, I know. She has joined as the departmental head.

She recalled her first team. Of how hard she had worked to gain their trust and respect. Of the times she had locked horns with some, convinced she was right, and determined to prove her point. She recalled the elation she felt when she 'won'.

She recalled how she slowly learned people's true natures. Some very sincere and hardworking who everybody pushed around and barely respected. She recalled those who knew exactly what needed to be said to impress those in power and stay in their good books. She recalled those that had supported her in her difficult times and those that had made her life difficult.

And she recalled this fondly. No angst. No anger. She knew the nature of organisations was complex. It was the people that made the organisations. And despite some shocks and revelations about people's true personalities, she had generally been happy. She was recognised as one who did good work, was respected as being committed, sincere and reliable. As someone who cared about people around her.

And then the old order changed and yielded place to the new. New roles, new people, new positions. All of a sudden it seemed that she was back where she had begun.

Except this time it was different. In the beginning there was work but no team. And when the team came the work she was hired to do was somehow deemed less important. 'You dont have enough work' they said. 'Do this', 'Do that'....pushed around like a pawn in a game of chess. She watched as those in positions of authority did what they pleased. Unchallenged.

She had always believed herself to be one who could speak truth to power. And yet, this time, she felt silenced. It was as if no one was interested in anything she had to say. What she heard, unspoken, but loud and clear - don't ask questions. Just do. Tolerate. In. Silence.

This was not her. What was she doing? Was a paycheck at the end of the month so important that she could turn a blind eye to all those things that were anathema to her? Why was she enduring this tenure of ignominy. Where was her sense of self? Where had she gone?

And so she decided - enough. This had to stop now. No more was she going to tolerate this self doubt and self flagellation. She wanted out.

So here she was today. Saying goodbye. To what, she wasnt very sure. What she knew, loved and nurtured was no longer there. Replaced instead by this being, this beast that was consumed by its own self importance, its own self congratulation in pursuance of its own self absorption.

Snapping out of her reverie, she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and walked calmly towards the exit. The security knew her this time. They smiled sadly. They knew that she would no longer be greeting them with her sunny 'Good morning!'. As it went in the song, there was really nothing left to say, but goodbye. 

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Europe: A Day In Brussels

Posted on Saturday, July 16, 2016 by Deepa


We spent only one day in Brussels. Not enough time to feel the pulse of a city that hosts the European Commission, Council of the European Union, and European Council, and is the most important seat of the European Parliament. But the nature of these hectic, multi city, multi country tours, is a frenetic pace at which sight seeing is accomplished. 

As we walked from our hotel to the nearest railway station, I noticed dirt and grime around me. Public spaces were covered in graffiti. It was surprising because our hotel was in a pretty good part of town, near the Royal Museum of Fine Arts and the Grand Place. Moreover, I was just coming in from Amsterdam, a place where people could and did, sprawl out in public places just to enjoy the weather. Plus of course the expectation that Indians have of 'foreign' countries being so spanking clean that you can eat off the road. 


This might perhaps explain (although not justify) the horrific bomb blasts that took place in Brussels in March 2016. Violence and terror as a means to express anger and protest is sadly becoming the order of the day. 

Moving on to more pleasant thoughts....

The husband, a rabid Tintin fan, was determined to visit the Herge Museum. In fact, it was the reason why we were visiting Brussels at all! 

The Herge Museum is located in Louvain-la-Neuve on the outskirts of Brussels at 26, Rue du Labrador. It is dedicated to the life and works of Georges Remi the creator of Tintin, who wrote under the pen name Herge. The museum which opened to the public in June 2009, was designed by architect Christian de Portzamparc and cartoonist Joost Swarte. It is a three storey building containing interesting photographs from Herge's childhood, family and working life. It also has rooms dedicated to the various characters in his books - from the major ones - Tintin, Haddock and Calculus to the supporting cast like Nestor and Jolyon Wagg.

Audio guides are available in English and French and are included in the cost of your ticket. So be sure to pick them up from the counter at the reception. There are lockers where you can deposit your bags and walk around freely. The museum is very spacious and airy and not overcrowded with exhibits which makes the time you spend here very enjoyable.

If you are a die hard Tintin fan, don't forget to go to the little chamber where you can take photographs with the characters. You basically stand in front of a camera and digital screen and select montages from the various adventures. The camera juxtaposes you onto that image and you become a part of it! After this, type in your email address on the screen and the picture is emailed to you. This is a great souvenir from the trip. There is also a little cabin where the walls are covered with the cover pages of all the adventures in every language in which it was ever printed. Another great photo opportunity, all free of cost! The downside is that no other photography is permitted inside this museum.  Wifi access is also limited.

A little extra information - if you're in Brussels later on this year, plan a trip to Musee Herge and take a wheel chair tour of the museum atrium. On 3 December 2016, which is the International Day for Persons with Disabilities, the museum is organising a free wheelchair tour to raise awareness of disabilities. 

Back in Brussels, we walked down to the Grand Place, not far from our hotel. According to Wikipedia "The Grand Place or Grote Markt is the central square of Brussels. It is surrounded by opulent guildhalls and two larger edifices, the city's Town Hall, and the Breadhouse building containing the Museum of the City of Brussels. The square is the most important tourist destination and most memorable landmark in Brussels. It measures 68 by 110 metres (223 by 361 ft), and it is a UNESCO World Heritage Site." And I must admit that this was the first time I had heard of anything called the Grand Place (said she in a small and ashamed voice).

The origin of the Grand Place dates back to the 11th century when an open air marketplace was set up on a dried up marsh near the Fort on Saint Gery Island. By the 13th century, three indoor markets were established - a meat market, a bread market and cloth market - because of which sales carried on even during bad weather. These belonged to the Duke of Brabant. By the 14th century, the area passed into the hands of the local authorities. With the building of the Brussels City Hall, the Grand Place became the seat of municipal power. In a show of one-upmanship, the Duke of Brabant built a large building right across the city hall as a symbol of ducal power. This was built on what used to be the bread and cloth market. It is now known as the Maison du roi (King's House) in French. In Dutch it continues to be known as Broodhuis or Breadhouse.

The Grand Place saw war, destruction and rebuilding over the next few centuries and continued to serve as a market till November 1959. In 1998, it was declared as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Tucked away amidst the many souvenir shops, in the by lanes of the Grand Place, is yet another object of art - Manneken Pis or simply Little Boy Pee, a 61 cm tall bronze statue of a little boy peeing into a fountain.
There are many legends and stories behind the statue. Wikipedia claims the most famous one to be of one Duke Godfrey III of Leuven, a two year old aristocrat, who led his troops in battle while hanging from a basket on a tree. He is said to have urinated on the enemy troops and defeated them. A compelling story about the Terrible Twos! The most plausible seems to be one where a wealthy merchant, visiting Brussels with his family, had his son go missing. The search party found the boy urinating in a garden. The merchant had the statue built as a sign of gratitude to the locals. 

An interesting tidbit of information is that the statue is dressed in different costumes every week according to a schedule that is displayed on the railings surrounding the statue. The little boy has an impressive wardrobe and the costumes are displayed in a permanent exhibit inside the museum in the Grand Place. All the work with the costumes is done by a non profit called 'The Friends of Manneken Pis'. 

With that our sight seeing around Brussels came to an end. It was a really tiring day for me, having traveled from Amsterdam and then spent a good part of the day on my feet. It was also cold with occasional rain on that day. By the end of it, I was ready for a hot bath, food and sleep. 

Before I sign off on this post, try your hand at these trivia questions. Leave your guess in the comments section. And I'll provide the answers in about a week's time:

1. Musee Herge is located at 26, Rue du Labrador - what is the significance of this
     address?
Ans. Tintin's address in the comic series
2. What is Snowy called in the French version of the adventures?
Ans. Milou

3. How are Thomson and Thompson related?
Ans. They are not related. They are doppelgangers

 4. Name Captain Haddock's family home
Ans. Marlinspike Hall

5. What is the origin of the writer's name 'Herge'?
The reverse of Georges Remee when initialled (GR = Herge)

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Flower Power: Keukenhof

Posted on Saturday, July 2, 2016 by Deepa

Keukenhof is something that Indians would be quite familiar with. Perhaps not by name. But if I showed you a picture, I guarantee that you would immediately know what I am talking about.

I am talking about the world famous tulip gardens of Amsterdam. And if you still don’t know what these are, you either don’t watch Indian films or (as a friend once said of me) ‘you live under a rock!’

Keukenhof, also known as the ‘Garden of Europe’ is one of the world’s largest flower gardens. It is located in a place called Lisse on the outskirts of Amsterdam in 32 sprawling acres with 800 varieties of tulips and nearly seven million blooms. Every year, the gardens see nearly 800,000 visitors and since it opened, 50 million people have visited it. 

The word ‘keukenhof’ means kitchen garden in Dutch. In the 15th century, the gardens used to be part of hunting grounds. It provided herbs for the nearby castle of Jacqueline, Countess of Hainut from where it derives its name. After her death, the ownership of the estate passed into the hands of rich merchants. In the 19th century, the owners commissioned landscape artists Jan David Zocher and his son Louis Paul Zocher, to design the grounds around the castle. In its current form, the gardens were established in 1949 by the then mayor of Lisse.

The purpose of the gardens was to exhibit flowers of growers from all over the Netherlands and thus boost the Netherland’s export economy of flowers. So in that respect, Keukenhof is actually a living and growing advertisement. What a novel and attractive way to showcase and market your products!

Tulips found their way to the Netherlands from the Ottoman Empire (modern day Turkey) in the 16th century. The foundation of the Dutch tulip industry is attributed to Carolus Clusius, a Flemish doctor and botanist. Right from the start, tulips were a huge hit and Clusius's garden was frequently raided and flowers regularly stolen! During the Dutch Golden Age there was a period called 'Tulip Mania' when the prices of tulips climbed so high that they were used as money till the market finally crashed. 

Today the Netherlands is the largest exporter of flowers in the world. The Dutch produce 4.32 billion tulip bulbs each year, some 53% of which (2.3 billion) are grown into cut flowers. Of these, 1.3 billion (or 57%) are sold in the Netherlands as cut flowers and the remainder is exported: 630 million bulbs in Europe and 370 million outside of Europe. So the beautiful Keukenhof gardens and the acres and acres of multi coloured tulip carpeted fields surrounding it are not just about aesthetics. It is serious business!! (note: the tulip gardens should not be confused with the tulip fields.)  

Back home in India, Keukenhof and the tulip fields seem to have captured the imagination of Indian film makers (ok, maybe not as much as the Swiss Alps, but still). Both the gardens and the fields have appeared in several Indian films. The one that is most popular among the Hindi film viewing audience is, of course, the evergreen song ‘dekha ek khwab’ from the Amitabh-Jaya-Rekha starrer Silsila. This song is picturised only in the tulip fields and not in Keukenhof. The montage of colours perfectly expresses the euphoria of love. 


Keukenhof appears in another song from the same film – 'ye kahan aa gaye hum'. This beautiful song, is rendered magical by poetry in Amitabh's deep baritone. The lyrics blend in beautifully with Keukenhof's winding paths lined with flower beds along the gently flowing waters of a lake. 


Keukenhof and the tulip fields, both, are also seen in Raj Kapoor’s Prem Rog for the song ‘bhanwre ne khilaya phool’. 


The film, as you may know, is about widow remarriage. So, the visual of a plain, white clad Padmini Kolhapure, framed by the brightly coloured tulips, is actually quite metaphorical. 

Down south, the tulip fields appear in the song 'Kumari' from the Tamil film Anniyan. Personally I did not take a shine to the song and in fact found it jarring. First of all, I cannot understand why it is shot in the tulip fields. When one has such a strong backdrop for a song, I feel it might have been better to generally tone down the song. The music does not blend well with the ambiance of the beautiful tulips. The make up and costumes seem loud and out of place. There are these four guys dressed like caricatures running around the lead pair with assorted musical instruments which is frankly annoying. And you can see cars driving past in the distance!! 



The tulip gardens and fields once again make an appearance in a song from the Tamil film Nanban. This is your typical jhatak matak film song and is actually quite dreadful. If I were a tulip in Keukenhof, I would be seriously offended at the ridiculous dancing and bewildering costume changes. I mean....I'm the star of this show. What do you mean by taking attention away from me in this garish and distasteful way?! 


 (Disclaimer: I have not seen either film. I do not have the context in which the songs are set and I do not understand Tamil well enough to get a sense of the lyrics. So please forgive me if I sound harsh. I would also add that Hindi film songs and picturisations in today's YoYo Honey Singh world would probably be equally horrible if not worse.)

Now a bit about my visit to Keukenhof. What a spectacular visual treat! One can't help but feel completely special when one sets eyes on these blooms. But just seeing it with your eyes is not enough.  You need to experience it with all your senses and feel the beauty of the flowers permeate your entire being. I can't explain it. You feel like you've arrived in paradise and you just want to sink into all this beauty and be transported to some place else. The smile never leaves your face!

From Deepa's collection


From Deepa's collection

My advice to those going to Keukenhof:  You must visit the place with your beloved. Hold hands, cuddle, kiss, express your love. This is the perfect setting for it. Take loads of photographs. It would be criminal not to! There are little corners that provide lovely backdrops to take pictures. Little bits of whimsy here and there. Like gigantic clogs or klompen as they are called in Dutch, right in the middle of a pathway, that will make you laugh out loud. Step into them and click away. Walk up the wooden staircase in the windmill and step onto the balcony  You will get a lovely view of the canal and tulip fields that border that part of the garden. Take a boat ride on the canal and you can float past the lovely and colourful tulip fields. 
No crying about no shoes here! (Deepa's collection)

Visit the various pavilions to see a wide selection of plants and flower shows. The Beatrix Pavilion is reserved especially for orchids. The Keukenhof website claims it to be the most beautiful orchid show in all of Europe. The Willem-Alexander exhibition showcases lilies while the Orange Nassau Pavilion shows off how flower bulbs can be used in interior design.  

Orchids at Beatrix Pavilion (Deepa's collection)
The gardens are open every year only during spring, between April and May. In 2017, they are scheduled to be open from 23 March to 21 May. 

Cute displays just made for photography (Deepa's collection)

So if you are visiting Amsterdam, be sure to visit this lovely piece of nature and enjoy a day out among the flowers. 

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