WOMEN OF SUBSTANCE

I am not a feminist, not that I know what it really means. I think there are fundamental differences in each sex and vaguely understand the possible reasons. Maybe it helps the society maintain an order and eases its operation through division of labor - Women take care of house and children while men work outside and generate finances. This arrangement suited life for everyone many many years ago. But not anymore. This so called division of labor has become something else. It has led to the oppression of women at a very deep rooted level. It has reduced woment to the status of an inanimate thing in the house - which has its purpose and use but no one cares how it exists or asks its opinions or think about it. They do not have any power over themselves - power to make decisions or stand up for their own.  They do not even have the power to chose and do things for their own children - like how much to educate, when and whom should they marry their children etc.

The question which keeps troubling me is not about equality or equity. I just wonder that for someone who contributes so much to a family and society, the respect and power a women gets is pathetic. I am talking about most women in India - not the tiny population who get educated and work and have freedom to live their life the way they want to. But the financial and emotional independence she achieves is at new costs - they are constantly under the scanner - for either being too ambitious and not caring enough for her family or for sacrificing her career and focusing on her family. She faces fire from all sides. The situation often makes me feel desperate and delusional. A midst these thoughts, one day I came across this book - A Space of her own -a collection of stories of incredible women - who make it all the worth.

The book tells us stories of 12 women collated by Leela Gulati. 12 ordinary women, facing extreme oppression through their life, create extraordinary lives for themselves and their families. Most of these stories is set between 1920-1980; a time when India was still struggling to settle down as an independent country. There was no time and attention given to women and their upliftment - It was a time when women were considered best in the kitchen and silent. They didn't have any power or voice to their own lives and opinions. They lived a life of servitude. Set in such times, these women have broken all traditions, went abroad to study and work, chose their own life partners, remarried as divorcees or widows, some even remained single all their lives - but mainly  they lived the way they wanted to. These were working women, despite having children to take care of and made tremendous impact on the society. They were passionate about progress and freedom, and created a better future for other women. Here are some examples of what these women have achieved.

Radharani was widowed at 13 and forced by her mother to follow the strict rituals of a widow like eating only once a day and wearing the white cloth, while being complete de-sexed with chopped hair and no jewelry or makeup. Whom did she get her hope but from her mother - in - law, who took her in and gave her all the opportunity to develop and grow. Self educated and well read, Radharani’s poetry was published in major literary magazines in 1920s and she had built a reputed career as a writer, from her mother in law’s house. She remarried when she was 28 at a time when it was considered to be the greatest sin which would haunt the family for generations. Why even when her daughter got divorced decades later, it was blamed on the widowed mother’s remarriage. Radharani went on to become a famous literary person, who not only impressed people in India but also abroad. She traveled extensively through Europe. She did all this through grit and determination, standing strong against the criticism and oppression she faced from all around the society, even her own mother. She taught the same to her children. Her daughter was the famous Nabneeta Sen Dev, who did her masters from Harvard and is a distinguished writer in the international circuits. She has won several awards both Indian and International. She achieved all these despite being divorced because of the help and support provided to her by her mother Radharani. This was all happening at a time when most female population in India was barely getting primary education. Quite inspiring I say..

Vina Mazumdar - she recollects her mother giving her a very valuable piece of advice - “If you see yourself, your husband and  your children as the boundaries of your concerns, the older you grow you will find your mind becoming smaller. Remember you are a part of a privileged generation, you are receiving education for which women in the rest of the country have to struggle for years”. Her mother, married at 11, had under the guidance of her sister in law and her husband, self educated herself at home along with managing the huge joint family house. Another case when Vina was consumed with confusion and guilt for not being able to do justice to her two major responsibilities -  being a mother and a professional university teacher, her father gave her a very wise viewpoint which helped her a lot in future. “ You are trying to balance only between your responsibilities as a mother and as a teacher. There is a third factor - if you introduce it, you will see the equation will resolve itself. This country has made a major investment in your education. Never mind the fact that the money came from me, it was still this poor country’s contribution. Do you have the right to waste that investment?”. These valuable advice and words of wisdom have haunted me since the day I read the book. They are so true, not only in the 1950s when this was all happening but even today when the world has moved on so much. I cannot believe this was coming from a generation - where the women got married as children, never had any formal education and never stepped out of the house. Makes me wonder what are we women of the 21st century doing? What wonders or miracles are we performing in our privileged lives?

The book talks about a woman who was married at age of 12 and took control of her new home consisting of huge joint families. How did she have the courage and knowledge required to manage such a big household at such a tender age. She was Vijaya Mehta’s mother. Vijaya Mehta herself was the legendary stage performer who has ruled the Maharashtra field of theater for a long time, setting the standards high. She joined theater when she was 18, in the 1940s : even before India had achieved independence, here was a women asserting hers. Her mother - in- law was Durga Khote - the famous and inspiring actress. Durga was widowed at a very young age, and became the sole breadwinner with the family having lost its fortune overnight. She joined films ignoring the social humiliation she faced for this decision. But she built a career for herself in the films, educated her two sons well and managed to have a comfortable life for herself when she retired. This was at a time when motion and sound pictures were still a new thing in India.

There were other stories which were extremely sad and set in difficult times - made difficult by people and their tiresome, irrelevant traditions rather than circumstances. These are accounts we all know of - how girls education is passed over, child marriage, child widows and their treatment, life of serving the husband and his family, treatment faced by family and sometimes own children, etc. I do not want to recount these tales but would assert on the courage and will of these women who have faced these difficulties and have come out shining and an inspiration to us.

I would say I am a changed person after learning about these persons. I no longer just crib about the society and its role in women oppression. The oppression does exist, but there are so many who have gone and just done what they want and the society still continues. In fact it has become better due to their endeavors. This gladdens my heart and inspires me to be among those women who made a difference. A toast to those women of substance!!!

THE RIGHT CHOICE?

“And it would be great if she has an off beat job....not a routine one but one which involves going to nice exotic locations”, said Raj. Shailu laughed at him. There were discussing the kind of girls suitable for him. Though friends from childhood, they had never come upon this topic untill recently, when he had started to feel that he was old enough to get married. As he had no girlfriend, he had to rely on matrimonial sites to look for the person of his dreams. They were discussing the list of “requirements” in the girl while this particular one turned up. Raj added “ But most travel based jobs involve going to same drab locations and staying in bland hotels”. “ Of course not” She quipped. “What about those working in National Geographic?”. This time Raj laughed out loud. “ What are the chances of finding an Indian, that too a girl, working in the National Geographic?” 

Shailu remained silent. It triggered some very troubled emotions in her. She remembered something she had buried so deep inside her that she had forgotten about it. It was about how she had imagined her life should be when she was much younger. Shailu sighed, not bothering to reply to Raj....Soon she was lost in her thoughts. As a child she had loved reading and watching English films. They opened her to a new world, very different from where she was living. In that world people had higher goals in life – not just living for food, shelter and safety through bank deposits. Her father would add to her enthusiasm by telling her to aim higher, do different things in life. Every dinner conversations used to be about different professions she could follow, or places she could see or things she could do. 

As she grew into her teens midst this environment, a pattern emerged in her thinking. She noticed that she loved to read about nature, be in nature, specifically the wild. Slowly as she gained more and more knowledge about nature, she became passionate about it. She wanted to work on the conservation of the wild. That was what she wanted to dedicate her life to. But she didn’t want to be an activist or work with an NGO. She wanted to be in it, be a part of nature, while working towards it. But she was too young, didn’t know how could she go about it. One fine day she discovered the National Geographic. It was then that she became clear on how she could do her bit on conservation of nature, without being an activist. She became quite keen on joining it, wanting to make her career in it. She kept researching on it and dreaming about it. She got to know of other such big organizations which were doing great work in conservation of wild life, but she remained focused on NGC for quite some time.

Maybe it was the adventure of exploration, of venturing into the forests, observing life at its most basic…She couldn’t really make out what appealed to her about this life, but she was obsessed with it. She imagined a life full of travels to different places, spending days under the canopy of trees, nights in chilly deserts, sleeping in tents, coming back to civilization only to make reports, documentaries and buying supplies. It all looked incredibly romantic and novel to her. 

“Where and how did all that passion go?” – wondered Shailu. Did it all get buried under peer pressure and the need to succeed as people normally define? Today she is a well-qualified woman, working in a multinational organization. She lives in a modern city, has her own house, car and bank balance. She travels abroad for holidays. She has a loving husband, and two beautiful children. Everything which anyone wanted. But not she. She had always wanted something else -  a life of travel, adventure, new places and new things. Instead she had taken the well known path as everybody. She can never leave this path now or ever – due to her family. However, if she had chosen that other path – the one she wanted, she couldn’t have had this wonderful family..and the amazing luxury she was living in. How would that have been? Could she have lived that life? Wouldn’t she have felt lonely and incomplete without a family?...Was she really made out for the grueling life in wild...Phew….both sides had its boons and sacrifices. How does one choose? Especially when the chance presents itself at a tender age – when you are young and inexperienced. When you do not know the value of achievements, dreams or the need for love and support from a family….

“Where are you” quipped Raj. Shailu sighed and replied that she had to a meeting, ending that conversation. She was too lost in her thoughts to have a meaningful conversation about life partners. As she walked to get a cup of coffee, she kept pondering over her choice of life. She knew that she gave up her dreams to be a regular person – for family,comfort and money. Though she would be perennially looking for a bigger sense of purpose in her life, she is absolutely sure that she was on the right path. If she had chosen the other path, she would have missed this one badly!! She loved her family and home too much. But right now, the choice she had made didn’t trouble her as much as another question – Should she induce such dreams and thoughts in her children like her father did?  Should she encourage them to pursue their “different” dreams - knowing that life could be hard and lonely there, but more fulfilling and satisfying? Or should she tell them about the sacrifices one has to make to their dreams come true - which she never made? What picture should she paint for her beautiful children?

EXCUSES!!!

Finally am back here...after 4 months and numerous attempts. Like everything else which goes wrong in life, I blame my dear (read poor) husband for this gap in my writing.  He got back from a year long assignment at a god forsaken place a long way from home and having missed me and our baby tremendously, he is ready to forgive me for all such blames - past and future. I will be sure to remind him of this generosity at every available opportunity. 

While he was away, our baby grew up rapidly to be a handful crawler. Despite taking care of our baby single handed, I always found enough time to get into Project Action I had written about; one of which involved writing every day (almost). I was doing quite well in this.... till he arrived back home - all laden with gifts and kisses. Ever since then, I couldn’t muster enough time to think about my blog. What is it about husbands being home, that makes wives very busy? I am daring to put such a generalized statement because I have heard the same from many other married women. They never seem to get anything done when the hubbies are home. This actually defies all logic. Today’s men are quite considerate and thoughtful ones. My  husband for example, not only helps with the baby, but also with all household chores. Why, he even goes for the dreaded vegetable/grocery shopping for me. Then why do all stay-at-home women find weekends the most busiest days of the week? 

Well frankly I cannot really put all the blame for my hiatus in writing on my husband. Circumstances should shoulder some of it. These past four months involved a shift of our home to another small town, a month long holiday with the in-laws and an growing baby who just got to know what separation anxiety is. All of which are extremely time and attention demanding. Take the house shift for example. It is a living nightmare for anyone. The packing up and loading into trucks is just the tip of the iceberg. The real effort starts when you unpack and try to figure out where each thing should go in a unfamiliar and new house. God forbid if the new house is smaller or bigger than the one before. Then it is like inventing the wheel all over again. After a month of racking my brains, the house cupboards and snatching moments when my baby is sleeping to work, I finally managed to get the house to an acceptable state of disorder. 

It was not just the lack of time but also the state of mind which didn’t help  me in writing. Something about a disorganized house leads to a disturbed mind. In between all which was happening, I was visited by my ghosts again. The ever troubling question of ‘what I was doing with my life’ came back to haunt me again. Anything I tried to write during that period was heavily negative and looked terrible. I had to go through the entire series of soul searching, crying, frustration and free flow diagrams to come to a conclusion - which was the same as a few months ago and which lead to Operation Action. Life has a funny way of showing that the search of meaning or higher purpose is futile; just create one if it is all that important to you, its easier than searching for one.

 

By the time all this got over, it was peak winters here. It was so cold that my brain froze over, not letting my limbs do anything other than curl up under the blankets. Short misty days, and long shivering nights ensured that I remained as lazy as I could. But now, the sun is finally out and the garden is full of chirping birds and beautiful blooms. So here I sit a midst nature awakening after a long cold spell, hoping that I too would come out of my long break, and get back to some writing. Wish me luck my friends, and keep reading!!!

THE FINAL JOURNEY

She tossed and turned but couldn’t make herself comfortable. She hadn’t got much sleep last night, having spent it lying down on the lobby floor of the Madrid airport. Despite that, sleep eluded her. She was on her way to Paris, but her mind remained back in Spain and the last ten days. It had been a wonderful trip – the best she ever had. Several reasons aided to make the trip so absolutely amazing. Since her mind was on an overdrive, she gave up all hopes of sleep and pondered over how much she had enjoyed the trip. What made it special?

Well, the first reason of course was that her dream had come true. Spain itself surpassed all her expectations. All that imagination and dreams she had about the place was nothing compared to the reality. Everything was better and more beautiful. The place was so wonderfully clean, fresh and bright – like happy summer mornings. Life was so convenient there – planned cities, metros, buses, clean tap water everywhere, maps and named streets to guide people, and so many more. It would be quite easy to live here, she thought. Life back home was a constant struggle – the traffic, the dust, the heat, lack of hygiene, the people ever ready to fight or be rude, the general chaos. Yes, life was definitely easy in Spain. But what will always remain with her was the people - their culture, their beauty, their smiles, their styles, their food and their conversation. It amazed her that people could lead such different lives just a few thousand miles from her home. 

Along with all that admiration for Spain, came the realization that she would never be able to live there. She would always be an outsider. People in Spain were very polite and helpful, but they were quite into their lives. Though it was a trait to be admired, she was used too the noisy and nosy people of India. Despite the fact that life would be easier Spain, she would be forever lonely with no one to talk to or gossip with in bus or train journeys and miss the warmth she felt from even strangers back home. She wondered if this is why it is called motherland – a place where you belong, even though it might not be the best place in the world. 

Putting those thoughts aside, she wondered over the other reason why the trip was so successful – it was the company. The trip wouldn’t even have been possible without her friend. But what surprised her was how much she enjoyed it just because of the company. Her previous trips with other friends had always been more messy rather than fun, trying to fit in each person’s whims into the trip plan. However, in this trip there were no arguments over where to go, when to go, where to eat, where to buy or any other fuss from either of them. There were no judgements, no comments. No need for approvals or disapprovals, no need to impress or express. It was almost as if they were each travelling alone, without being lonely due to the other person’s presence. When they were tired of the sight seeing, they could converse about their childhood days or other million things friends find to talk about. There was no pressure to conform to any expectations. She had rarely felt so free with anybody before. She once again thanked her luck to have such a friend with whom she could be totally herself. 

The pilot’s announcement broke her reverie. There were approaching to land in Paris, but this time she didn’t bother to look for the Eiffel Tower. But a casual glance at the window showed her the spectacular monument, looking quite tiny from that height. She smiled to herself at the irony. After a long and difficult immigration check in Paris, she finally settled herself on the long journey back home with a heavy heart. She realized that what made this trip special was because it was an adventure, a first time, a novelty in her life. The thing with first times is that you can never experience the same feeling ever again. You could do a zillion new and different things later on, but they will never match up to that first big adventure. She sighed at the thought. She was quite happy that she had experienced it and also sad because she would never feel the same every again. The exhilarating feeling was over - to remain in her memories. She slowly drifted off to sleep dreaming about Spain…..dreams similar to what she had as a child…...only this time she was in them.

MADRID & TOLEDO

She couldn’t stop admiring this capital city. It was a big city, but very unlike Barcelona. Something about this city was very warm, and alive. It didn’t look all business and money over here. Somehow this city, sort of exhibits the European life – the four working days a week, long weekends spent in adventures or pursuing hobbies or just reading under the warm sun in the park, getting together with friends and small expeditions to nearby woods or villages, or just pub hopping. This city seemed to be all about living.

They were put up in a quaint hotel in a bustling part of the city. Unlike the room in Barcelona which was all chic, modern and purposeful, this room had an antique touch – right from the elaborate curtains, to the rusty bath tub and the rickety beds. It smelled different too. They walked to the nearby Canalejas Square, and stopped to admire the place, the sculptures and people lazing around over there. Madrid had this wonderful mix of the old and the new in its architecture. It portrayed the gradual change over the past few centuries. There was an entire street, Gran Via which housed beautifully designed buildings of the previous century. Not to speak of the Royal Palace and the amazingly well maintained rooms which were open to public. She learnt there that the monarchs had been quite instrumental in beautifying the city in their times. Though her world history knowledge was close to zero, she could make out just from the landscape of the city that it was quite an important place in the past. 

Taking in the sight of the wonderful architecture, she wasn’t surprised to know that Madrid was one of the top European cities for art museums. Both of them quite well remembered their weird feeling after the visit to the Picasso museum and wondered whether they should venture into any of Madrid’s famous museums. But they had really admired the frescos on the roof of every room in the Royal Palace. Maybe they would be able to appreciate older forms of art and paintings better. They were right; the trip to the Prado museum took their breath away; literally. There were scores of rooms, each housing paintings from some very famous artists – names even ignorant people like her knew. The first few rooms completely awed them, and made them wonder at the artist’s skill and talent. After that everything went hazy, and the paintings merged with each other. Soon they were so tired that they could barely take a step. If museum wasn’t so classy, they would have just plonked themselves right there on the floor. However, they walked gingerly out, having seen barely half of the paintings.

Once out, they sat down on the beautiful lawns of the museum and rested their tiring feet. There were so many other people who were doing so. Now they knew why the museum didn’t provide any seating inside. They had provided acres of beautifully manicured lawns, for the visitors to relax and reminisce about their art collection. That was the thing about Madrid – its manicured lawns adorned with beautiful flower beds – they were everywhere, even right next to the busiest streets. They added to the beauty of the city greatly. That evening, they decide to have a look at a Spanish food market and had one of the most interesting times ever. That was the only place she had seen so crowded – with people from all ages and regions. The market sold everything – right from pulses and grains to strange looking sea creatures, from all kinds of meat and sausage to wines and tapas. It was fascinating to watch people in their elements and she realized that if one really wanted to know a place and its culture – they should go to its market!! Along with dinner they planned their next day – their last day in Spain. It seemed that it would again involve cathedrals, museums and palaces. She was beginning to feel she had seen them all and wondered what else to do to make it memorable. That’s when her friend suggested a trip to Toledo; a nearby world heritage site. That was one of the best decisions they had taken in their trip.

Next early morning, they reach the train station to catch the train and managed to get seats for the one which departed after an hour. With an hour to kill, they wandered around the station, and found a beautiful park after a while. It looked quite dreamy and fairy tale like in the morning sun, and they sat admiring nature’s best under a huge old tree. There were hares and peacocks wandering around without a care. It felt so peaceful - they never realized how long there sat there. A casual glance at her watch showed that there was just five minutes for the Toledo train to depart. She jumped to her feet and started running towards the exit, without any explanation. Her friend didn’t need it, he already knew the moment she started running. They had done it again; managed to get late for the train, despite being there much so much before time.  She hadn’t run like that for ages. Pretty soon out of breath, they reach the platform, with people staring at them all along the way. Luckily the train had not yet departed, but it did the moment they stepped on to it. 

Catching their breath, they settled down to a quite, fast journey, with her admiring the cleanl and very modern looking train. It was a short journey, and once in Toledo, they couldn’t stop admiring the beautiful view. It was by far the best looking town she had seen in Spain. It was old, quaint and had a rustic beauty which couldn’t be defined. Even the train station was wonderful, with its red brick watch tower, the intricate carvings and Spain’s specialty – the painted and carved ceilings. A sparkling river flowed softly around the city – it had an old creaky water wheel which looked like it was from another century. The city itself was on the hilltop and looked magnificent and picturesque.

 As they walked through the lanes of the city, they admired the beautiful, rustic looking houses which were all in different shades of brick red and stone. There were pretty plants and flowers peeping from the window sills and balconies of the buildings – the only life beings in those inner lanes. Everywhere they encountered narrow and winding lanes going up and down; they got lost pretty soon. They enjoyed being lost and letting the mysterious looking lanes take them anywhere.  Pretty soon they were were quite shocked to see a car racing down to them, there was barely any place for them to stand when the car passes them. After a while they got used to it. Every time a car would pass, people would lean flat on the walls – to let it go. It didn’t trouble anyone, and they found pedestrians guiding some cars through the difficult turns and stretches. Once again, she admired people’s nature – they don’t seem to get angry or irritated with things like this – so unlike India. The cars were very different too – they were small, all hunchbacks and looked quite posh. She would have been terrified to take such a lovely car in those narrow, winding lanes. 

They made their way to the Alcazar fortress – the highest point in the city, and spent some quite moments enjoying the view of the city and the river from there. They could make out three of the four entrances to the city and imagined the history of the city. From there they could also see the famous medieval bridge across the river. It looked so quaint, old and beautiful that they decided to walk down to it, but had to give up halfway down as they were quite tired. Toledo was quite hot, almost felt like they were back in India. Instead they walked around the local market and ventured into the souvenir and jeweler shops. Before long the day was over and they made their way back to the train station – in time. They sat quietly on their way back and relived the moments in Toledo. They knew that that sunny day in one of the most beautiful places on earth would remain with them forever.

Once in Madrid, they had an entire evening to while away, before they caught flights to their respective destinations the next morning. They decided to follow the young crowd of Madrid, and went pub hopping. It was quite fun, and exciting – to sit among them and sip a drink. She drank in the sight of people having fun with their friends and enjoying the young ambience in the clubs they went. There was not much dancing as there were conversations, and she couldn’t stop staring and listening to the beautiful people. But as they walked back to their hotel, they became quite again. The trip was over and very soon, all of that would just be in their memories – and photos. They would back to their respective work places to resume normal life and after some time, Spain would look like a dream. To her especially – she knew there wouldn’t be a trip like this for a very long time. They had also come to like each other’s company quite a lot in the past week and relived their school days during that time. She knew she would miss her friend and wondered if they would ever do such a trip again. 

Maybe….Maybe not…..

BARCELONA - CONTINUED

Her friend had to give a lecture at some academic institution, so they parted ways on their second day in Barcelona. She walked down the streets, armed with map in hand and the Serbian couple’s suggestions in mind. For the first time completely alone in a big strange city, she couldn’t but feel awed as she imagined how far she was from home; despite the fact that some things were similar. Cars and buses filled with people travelling to work, shops opening up their wares to people, crowds of people waiting to cross the streets. Yes, in Barcelona the preference was not as much to the pedestrian as it was to time. So, people had to wait for their turn to cross streets. No car would stop for them. It was all business and money here. She could make that out. She was overwhelmed with everything around.

 

She quickly made her way to the tourist places, to get away from that busy and mindless city life. She wrapped her sweater closely around herself, to keep warm against the chilly wind. She couldn’t believe it was this cold in April. She made her way to the famous Arc de Triomf, at the entrance of Park Ciutadella. It was a beautiful pathway, with lovely structures and lamp posts. She was amazed by the number and variety of museums around that place. There was a museum for chocolates too. Having wandered into a couple of such museums, she got bored and made her way to the beach.

It was quiet a small beach, with soft, almost white sand. The sea was a beautiful dark blue - a color she had never seen before. It contrasted beautifully with the light blue of the sky. There was something quite dreamy about the sunlight in Spain. It felt light and golden – not like the burning, scorching sun in India. Despite the chilly wind, the beach was filled with people, even in the middle of the day. There were lots of women with their children playing around them. She was shocked to see people in their swim wear, daring to venture into the sea, despite the cold. They took off their clothes without any inhibition, while she could never even peel off her sweater in public without feeling as if she was stripping. She saw some people making shapes on the beach – beautiful sculptures, made painstakingly with sand and water. She wondered how any could invest so much mind, time and effort on something so temporary, so transient in nature. They must be so sure of themselves – these artists.

She met up with her friend at the beach and they both decided to make their trip a little more adventurous by going into the nearby casino. That was the first place they had to show their identity proofs to get in; they looked too young to be going into casinos. The inside was quite fascinating, with machines so colorful and lit up with lights – each made up to enchant people and get them to play. She wanted so much to try her luck at one of the machines, but was too embarrassed with all the people staring at them. They quickly made their way out; as they were sure the management would have thrown them out pretty soon. Out of the casino, they made their way to the Ciutadella Park and admired the beautifully kept lawns, trees and shrubs. But the best feature of the park was the fountain. It was a huge structure with very intricate and beautiful carvings. It was a very tranquil site, with swans and ducks swimming around and pigeons cooing from the life size carvings of flowers and people. The size of park was immense, and after some time they gave up trying to explore the whole place.

As they walked back to their hostel they heard loud cheers emanating from a nearby pub. It was an English pub, her friend informed her. Not really understanding the significance, she insisted on entering it. Once again they had to prove they were above the legal age to drink at the entrance. The inside of the pub was exactly as she had seen in the movies – dark, crowded and people staring into the TV. It pictured a live match between Barcelona and Arsenal, which being hosted by the Camp Nou Stadium in Barcelona that day. She had never seen people so involved into the game, not even in the Cricket World Cup in India. Soccer fans are crazy, she thought. With beer mugs in hand, people were cheering and booing loudly at the players. They had to get out before some physical fight broke out between the supporters of both the teams. They walked on to a nearby Spanish pub, and were surprised to see none of such action there. There were just a few people calmly following the match on television, without making any noise. Different people, different cultures.

The next day, they crossed the huge city to see Camp Nou, Barcelona’s famous stadium. She had never been to any athletic stadium, and she had no idea why they were going to this place; her friend had insisted on it. Once she got in, she realized why. The immense size of the stadium astonished her, not to speak of the size of the field. Never having seen an actual full size soccer field before, she wondered at the stamina of the players who run around it a thousand times in a single game. They must be super humans. The stadium was still being cleaned up after the previous night’s game – looking at the size and state of it, she realized they would take a few days for it get over. After a brief tour of the stadium’s museum, they rushed back to their hostel to pack. There were flying back to Madrid for the last leg of their journey. She couldn’t believe it had already been a week since she came there. How time flies!!!

To be continued…..

 

BARCELONA

 There were no oranges in the trees in Barcelona. This was the first thought as they walked towards their hostel where they were to stay for the next few days. After a long and tiresome journey in a very cramped bus, they were happy to be on their feet and walk the long way from the bus stand to their destination. In the dark, chilly night, the city looked very similar to her place back home. It had big buildings, few trees and large roads. Everything looked modern and purposeful. She sighed, because she expected she would not enjoy this city as much as Granada and Seville. She was as wrong as she could be.

After a much needed good night’s sleep, they woke up to a bustling hostel. She went down to the common kitchen to see young people from almost all around the world. She met an incredibly sweet and innocent looking couple from Serbia, from whom she got the inside information about places to see in Barcelona and the damages to the pocket involved. They gave her some good tips, as they were on a really low budget like her. Soon they got to talking about India and Serbia. She was shocked to know that their currency was valued even lower than the rupee. She realized the significance of that on their trip, and somehow felt connected to them. Talking to them was a pleasure - their English was so beautiful and clear. She would have loved to chat with the other inmates too, but everyone was quite busy with themselves and not really interested in making conversations. 

They started the day searching for the Picasso Museum. Well, neither of them had much knowledge of art, but then Picasso was a famous name. It was fun walking through the streets of Barcelona. In the broad daylight, it didn’t so much look like the cities in India. Here the buildings were huge, and quite European in structure. The architecture was quite amazing, and she couldn’t stop taking pictures of them despite the fact that they were just normal buildings. Finally they reached the street which housed the Picasso Museum. She hadn’t expected that a museum can be located in such a small lane, that it was accessible only by foot. However, even such lanes were named as well as marked on the map. Also the names of even the tiniest and shortest lanes were marked on the buildings – so it was close to impossible to get lost in Barcelona. Their visit to the museum was short; modern art was not something they had developed a taste for. They were more excited about the fact that they got a discount on the entrance fee because they were less than 25 years old.

Their visit to the Gothic centre was much more fruitful. The cathedral here was quite beautiful and majestic, but the famous Familia Sagrada was absolutely breathtaking. It was immense, and still under construction, even after a 100 years of work. She admired the dedication those people had to their work. It was evident in the architecture, the carvings and the statues. There was a long wait for entering the building, and they were not interested in spending hours in a queue. After having seen many cathedrals and churches till now, they both had decided that the outside of the structure would be far more interesting and unique compared to the inside. Hence, they circuited the structure slowly, drinking in the sight of the manmade beauty. She wondered what kind of person Antoni Gaudi would have been – to dare to build something so unconventional. They walked to the other buildings by Gaudi, and were astonished by each. Each was completely different from the other, with very beautiful and strange colorings and carvings. Many of those buildings were occupied by banks, but had some sections open to the public. Unfortunately the entrance fee for most buildings was as much as 10 Euro. They contended themselves to walk around and admire Gaudi from outside.

By evening they reached the most happening street in Barcelona – La Rambla. The street was alive as if a carnival was going there. There were street musicians, people selling souvenirs and other wares, people dressed up as mascots, and so on. What impressed her most was those who painted themselves and stood like statues. She was awed at how still they could be, despite the bustling street. Her favorite was the invisible man – dressed in all silver including his hat.  They found a small, quaint Italian restaurant, where she ordered Ratatouille pasta – that was the only name she could recognize in the menu due to the animation film of that name. Her friend warned her that people either like that dish a lot or just hated it. She was happy that she was among the former. It had been many days since she had a filling meal – being a vegetarian is quite difficult in the western world. That would be her best meal in the entire trip – she already knew that.

As they slowly walked back to their hostel, she observed the people around. Again she couldn’t but admire the fashion and style exhibited by people. It was more pronounced in Barcelona compared the previous two places. Unlike the other two places, she saw many people on the heavier side of the scale. Maybe it had to do with the city life, which tends to be similar across the world. Sedentary lives spent in the pursuit of money and power leading to increased inches around the middle of one’s body.

She had been surprised to see so many Indians in Barcelona. It was quite strange an experience – to see familiar looking faces among the strangers. And to hear sudden greetings like “Sasriyakaal” among the sea of fair skinned people dressed in business formals. She realized that though she was enjoying the trip immensely, she missed her home and people around. Not anyone in specific – but the general exuberance and liveliness of Indians – who cannot stop chattering in trains, who would not smile when their eyes meet with a stranger but would tell the story of his life within minutes of being introduced, the tastes and smell of the amazing street food, the warmth she felt even when she was among strangers there. People in Spain were so much more polite, ordered and nice – unlike Indians. But every attempt she had made to talk or know them had been rejected very politely by them. They liked their privacy, unlike Indians. 

She smiled, as she tried to clear her mind of those thoughts. She loved her time in Spain, but still wanted to go back home. She knew that it was exactly how every Indian must have felt being anywhere other than India. Western world is amazingly comfortable – clean, and organized and easy. But it lacked that one thing, which no one can describe in words. The one thing which differentiates your home from others.

To be continued…..