A thousand words for a picture – The Englischer Garten, Munich

Ok I’m going to attempt to paint a picture in your head with just words. So this is basically a picture post, except there isn’t a picture. I’m going to make you exercise your imagination. Here goes.

I’m sitting at the Englischer Garten in Munich. It’s a garden of tremendous size and lush, highly saturated green. It’s pretty much a forest of sorts. You could get lost in it. Su, appa and amma are away, taking a walk. I’m on a bench, reading Wodehouse and casually watching passers-by. I see a cute-ish guy jogging. He’s wearing a dark blue dry fit t-shirt. It fits him perfectly. He ran swiftly past me. The smell of his deodorant slightly lingers.

There is a boy who looks American sitting on the bench beside mine. He is wearing a skull cap and a scowl. He doesn’t look like he wants to be here with all his uncles and aunts and kids. He’s a teenager for sure. He’d rather be with his friends. He looks disgruntled. His family has left him to sit here and gone for a stroll. Just like mine. Except I’m not angry. I’m loving every bit of the sun.

Oh yes! The sun! It’s a warm day. It’s the Tuesday everyone has been looking forward to for weeks because the weather forecast guy told them to. Sixteen degree Celsius is a blessing in disguise. Girls are lying in the grass, barely clad and sun bathing. I sat in the moist grass a while ago. My black jeans now have dirty green and brown patches on them.

The atmosphere is very pleasant. It is of the kind the word “spring” brings to mind. Birds chirping, children laughing, the gush of flowing water (there is a stream that flows within this garden), shadows of trees swaying happily, cycle bells ringing, bottles clinking, dogs barking and panting, women’s heels clucking, basket balls bouncing and ringing…

Everyone is dressed colourfully. The sky is blue, the exact blue that it ought to be on a typical spring day. I see red and green trees.  Flowers are in the pink of their health. I see a couple holding hands and walking. He is in blue, she, in a beige dress. There is a black guy on a cycle, casually cycling past the two of them, wearing varicoloured patch-work clothing.

The wind that’s blowing is cold. the kind that rises off the surfaces of a cold river. A touristy old couple is walking in my direction. “Wodehouse!” the old man exclaimed brightly, noticing my book, as he walked past me. He’s holding his wife’s hand. Even after all these years, they still hold hands. Makes me feel good about being in love.

I hear many languages. German topping the table. I can hear English and a little bit of French here and there. And oh! A familiar voice. That’s Kannada of course. I can hear my family even from two kilometres away.

Change of location.

I see a thin, shirtless guy with long curly hair. My kinda guy. Hehe. And my my! The number of dogs! Poodles, blanket-face dogs, pugs, bull dogs, golden retrievers, German shepherds, mastiffs, mutts- some playing fetch, some running about in carefree glory. There is just one silly little mister that is carrying a log that is a tad too huge for his mouth. That is no twig. It’s a huge bark of a tree. There is another dog swimming to fetch hiss ball from the pond behind me.

I hear the cluck cluck of a horse running. It’s a horse-drawn carriage. A beautiful black horse with flowy, shiny hair and thick muscular hooves.

I absolutely love this garden! I wish to have a dog someday, bring him to this garden and watch him stick his tongue out and gallop about wildly.

Whereas me, I’d rather just sit on a bench, absorb the pleasantries of Munich, put this notebook away and get back to reading Ukridge.

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