Leipzig

For the past week, I have been, in a manner of speaking, moving about for two. I am accompanying PM Raghunandan, the chief reporter of the Indian newspaper Deccan Herald, during his four-week stay in Leipzig. He comes from Bangalore, a city of seven million people. Yet, much smaller Leipzig offers him plenty of excitement.

Months ago, when the Goethe-Institut’s offer to take part in a journalism exchange with India arrived, I signed up immediately with joyful enthusiasm. I bought two thick tomes about India and the Indian way of life along with books to brush up my English and felt prepared. Yet, the closer Raghunandan’s arrival comes, the more apprehensive I become. Will he understand me? What topics will interest him? Will he be able to deal with the language? He speaks no German. How will the people he wants to interview react?

Then, there is no more time for speculation as I and my family await him at the airport, at first in vain, for he missed the connecting flight in Munich and will arrive on the next one. His suitcase is missing and the reception desk at the hotel booked for him is already closed. When he finally does manage to unlock the door to his room after this turbulent evening, we are both very relieved.

Briefing the next day in the editorial office: As a political journalist, my guest wishes to tackle difficult topics such as the problem of shrinking cities. I attempt to explain to him that Leipzig is no longer a shrinking city, but gained about 22,000 inhabitants in five years. This figure does not convince him, however. How could it when Bangalore grew from four to seven million inhabitants within ten years?

We quickly agree on his first subject matter: Raghunandan simply must visit St. Nicholas Church (he learned about it during his history studies). Another must is the Mädler-Passage with Auerbach’s Cellar (it is the first time I have to explain the story of Faust and Mephisto in English). He wants to see the Stasi Museum and I want to show him the zoo (which he is later very enthusiastic about). I invite him to the Festival of Lights on 9 October as well as to the Opera Ball. This is where a problem arises: all men are required to wear tuxedos at the Opera Ball. Fashion designer Silke Wagler is prepared to help out, but I see that Raghunandan feels uncomfortable in this festive outfit. “I never wear a uniform, not even to my own wedding,” he explains, and it looks like we have our first crisis on our hands. He feels like Nehru, the former Indian prime minister, in this suit. Apparently, Raghunandan is considering cancelling the opera ball, but finally gives us his okay.

“Can a person feel safe in Leipzig?” was one of the Indian’s first questions. I ensure him that he can stroll alone through the city with an easy mind, and now he does it very often. The 33-year old does not want to be constantly taken by the hand, but deliberately wishes to make his own way.

We arrange to go canoeing on the Plagwitz waterways. Bravely Raghunandan steps into a canoe for the first time in his life. I suppose it is not without concerns for he cannot swim. Indian children do not have to learn it, he tells me. My guest is a vegetarian, so we fortify ourselves beforehand at Barthels Hof with Saxon potato soup. I am glad that the menus are available there in a number of languages. I have already ascertained that there is often a dearth of informative materials in English at Leipzig institutions.