See like an Egyptian!

Misr ( Egypt), Cairo. 

The writers, the poverty , the dilemma ..

For Aisha .

One of the first writers who ever influenced me was Suryakant Thripathi Nirala. A Khadi Boli Hindi writer. He was a novelist and a poet. I would not be surprised if Indians are not familiar with his name. We are not used to reading our own writers. But he was the first soul, who ever evoked any sort of feeling for mankind or humanity in me . His sarcasm, his humour, his narration of poverty or his narration about rain. He was one of those souls who was among the poor India,who connected themselves with the rural part of India. He was not a mere spectator, he was part of them. Everything had something to offer. I was introduced to him in my 8th grade. I remember him cos Aisha ( my sister) also had similar feelings evoked when she first encountered him.

Aisha and I have spent hours discussing about him. we still do. We think off him as our own relative. Someone who belonged to us, someone who understood us and someone who had similar things to say about life. His own life was a mess, as any other tragic life story, he too died in poverty. He struggled all his life, he wrote all his life and never got recognition. Yes, maybe its the romanticism with poverty that touched us so much.

But surya has always been a part of us.

He once a wrote a poem about a beggar. Bhikshuk ( in Khadi boli- Hindi). It was more of a narrative-descriptive style. He wrote his movements, his cries, his sorrows and about his hunger. It was very clear, surya would never want to exchange his lifestyle with the bhikshuk.

Nevertheless Surya died a similar death. He died in starvation.

But the poem was something, it moved me, and it did the same to my sister.

But is it just the fact that, we can never understand these souls and only narrate about them ?

I have always been fascinated by lives of struggling artists, be it painters, novelists, writers, poet, artists. Struggle and poverty was something I always longed for. But I was always a far away distanced reader. I could not even imagine being in their place, living those lives, I have romanticised these notions in my head thousands of times, but even thinking about those lives scares me. Somerset Maugham, another author whose works kept me away from realities. An excellent writer who made millions out of narrating the lives of struggling and romanticised personalities. He was always the narrator and he always maintained the distance. He did emerge in their lives here and there. He too had his romantic flings with this lifestyle. But he maintained his life, his real life. He was always able to get out of it.

Naguib Mahfouz, I was introduced to his works 2 weeks ago. and he flirted with poverty of Cairo, he himself was a product of this poverty. He made the death and birth in this poverty circle as a matter of statistics. then again, he became a narrator, he tried getting out of it. He never tried living it. he felt all the compassion in the world for them, for himself. But he had seen it and he was not bit moved by the romantic angle about it. Why AM I suddenly writing about these souls, Maybe because I am reaching a point in life. Where I am forced to think about all those principles and their practical application. The wonderful analytical mind feels like analysing this current dilemma of my heart and brain.

Am I similar to these authors, Was I also destined to just narrate these stories and not understand them ?

Walking around the streets of Cairo, I saw poverty . Its not that I had never witnessed it before. But a year abroad and then a brief fling with Istanbul did make me momentarily forget it. Somehow, this time I felt it, apathy was yet to arrive and I was feeling awkward. I started flinching every-time someone asked me for money. It did make me feel awkward.

As an Indian, am ashamed to say this, but am not moved by poverty. I see people, I see beggars and just like the locals I continue with my life. One has to understand our background before making faces for this apathy. I was brought up in cities. We witness beggars everyday. They are like signboards, some people use them as reminders to work hard, some use them as signposts for finding out local places. A beggar plays a very important role in the Hindu circle of life. It keeps reminding us that in order to escape the life of a beggar one has to be good in this life. Yes, The Karma is somehow intertwined with this. There is another notion, where beggars are thought to be lazy, where poverty is the result of one's working ethics. Yes, Indians have spent a lot of philosophical energy on the issue of beggary. We even have legislations discussing this situation. But humanity and kindness had never played a role in it.

I can count on my hands, the number of times I have actually helped anyone on the streets, to be precise a beggar on the street. Once in Delhi, twice in Bangalore, once in London . Thats it. I have always consoled myself saying that I am just a student and I cant help them. I cant finish the poverty of the world alone and have always moved on. But I always had money. I always wanted to help. And I know a lot of souls like me, who have the same problem, and never lifted a finger to help.

I once was a Christian and somehow in every catechism class there was this undertone of helping the poor. I was taught by Missionary of charity sisters. I have high respect for Mother Teresa. But those lessons were restricted to the area of my class, it never went beyond it.

I always had the Christian guilt. I still have it. I cant seem to enjoy life, I still feel awkward about enjoying luxuries. I still think if I deserve any of it. And it took me a long time to realise that this guilt could be traced back to Adam's original sin. Church always reminded me that I was a sinner. And I had to do something to achieve paradise. I stopped practising the religion 6 years back, but the guilt remained. One of the main reasons why I still cling to Fyodor Dostoevsky novels. He brings those memories, his works reinstate this guilt, those principles. He brings back the memories of poverty that I had tried hard to forget.

I am still struggling and I still keep thinking, is there a paradise after this ? Life is pretty unfair. How is anyone chosen for a better life. Some people struggle, some people give in. some people have it easy and some people need to fight. I hate thinking that destiny works. I hate admitting that some are plain lucky.

Maybe its the dilemma one is supposed to live with. Yes, I am just philosophising.. and its easier to do that in a Blog...

An ode to Istanbul!

Uskudar and Anatolian side

Istanbul: where should I begin... Trust me, I came with a very bad image, every second person I met in Ankara loved Istanbul so I was already little averse of the place. I really thought it was just hyped, but Istanbul proved me wrong.. it was not just hyped, it was really loved.

Let me begin by saying goodbye to Ankara. So the bus left and I started feeling nostalgic about leaving Ankara. It had been generous to me. By the time I reached Istanbul, I could sense there was a big population out there waiting for me. My first view of Istanbul was confirmed by the long line of coast, ah! how much I missed sea-line. It was beautiful and welcoming. I got down at uskudar and stared at the coast for sometime. I was aware of the fact that I was looking at the famous skyline of sultan ahmet and hagia Sofia. It was there, right in front of my eyes, no more photos, no more google images, I could see it with my own naked eye.

Uskudar was in the Anatolian part of Istanbul. I was still in the Asian part of Istanbul and I really wanted to absorb the Asian part before being mesmerised by the European part. I spend my time walking around the coastline, feeding birds there, having friendly chat with the fishermen there and having tasty fresh baluk ( fish) from the coast. It was really yummy. It can be a bit too much for people who are not fans of fish and coast. The smell of the sea would be there and you could see the evidence of it everywhere. But I am a sea lover, so I was there to enjoy the very beautiful Marmara sea. At night , it just looked like a city floating on sea. You could small small images of light everywhere. It was very surreal. The land and sea seemed to merge and the reflection of lights in the water was simply breath-taking. One has to give time to observe this. Get into the scenery and be part of it. If you have time, do it. It will reward you with one of the most beautiful sceneries one ever experiences. Uskudar is a residential area where istanbulians stay and they travel to the European side for work. I had read blogs saying nasty things about Asian side of Istanbul, stating it was not worth the time to visit.I would say they were simply wrong. It has its own charm. It takes time to like it. One has to walk in the streets and one has to find all the small and narrow lanes. One has to find the local bazaars and one has to find the tasty Turkish food.

At night, I went to have dinner near the famous Kiz Kulesi ( the maiden's tower). Well it was rumoured that a princess was captured in the tower and she spent all her life there. It is situated in the middle of the bosphorous river. One can have the view of this lovely tower from both sides of Istanbul. I had my baluk ekmek ( fish sandwich) and sat on one the benches and looked admiringly at the tower. It was lit at night and it was a beautiful view. I tried imagining what the princess must have imagined, she had the whole sky and the sea to stare at, but how long she would have done that. Did she ever think of jumping off the tower, how would she have escaped this situation. Yes, I had lot of spare time, and I was lost in my thoughts, you too would have done the same, the sound of the sea, people walking around, the lights of the city, the silence of the night, you would have felt the same.

European side :

I was excited about setting my foot again on the European side, I had a feeling I would feel something. ( Honestly felt nothing :) neither the earth shook, nor the keman( a turkish instrument) played in my ears) but anyways set my foot on it. So I travelled from the Anatolian side to European side in a big boat ( vapur). My Turkish had improved a lot, so I was able to manage on the streets, and find my ways around. It was a big big boat with lots of people on it. I found a seat and sat right next to a handsome Turkish guy. He had long black hair, tall and fair. To me he looked like Jesus Christ. This is an important point to remember! He went and bought some cookies and started feeding the birds, by throwing it in the river while the boat sailed. It was a beautiful view. The birds in the sea, the cookies flying around and a handsome guy :) I even tried throwing some cookies, but the birds were not doing a good job of catching them! So I started chatting with this guy with my broken Turkish and to my surprise he spoke English! Hurrah! So there I was, asking all the important details before I miss him. And here comes the first miracle of the day : he offered to take me to Blue Mosque. Being an Indian, I did refuse it , three times, but after that, I really wanted him to help, I knew I had to walk some miles, but having a guide could have just helped my life :) so there I was, with this guy, walking to blue mosque from eminonu ( thats the place where the boat would halt). It was roughly a 20 minutes walk. And in this time we had exchanged our life histories. Turkish and Indians love each other. Both the sets get excited about each other's culture and both love talking, so the 20 minutes just vanished in thin air. The number of tourists dramatically increased by the time we approached the place. I could hear English and Chinese! Indeed a tourist place. Suddenly I was being flooded with pamphlets, bus tours, boat tours, basically any information. I thanked my handsome guide and proceeded to most famous site in turkey.

The place where history was created, the place where the church and the mosque stared at each other. A memory of the different acts done in the name of god. Obviously the tourists were not getting into the dramatic effect. It was more like an amusement park. I really wished there were only Turkish people there minus the noise. I went to Sultan Ahmet and decided to wait for the aeyzaan. I wanted to hear the ayezaan in the world famous cami ( masjid) and it was worth the wait. You have to sit and hear it. It feels like it travels through every minaret and then through brick, it travels within the walls and everyone takes part in it. I was not allowed to enter it during the prayer time, but I was really dying to see it. When I was finally in, it was beautifully carved piece of art. I love the colours, I love the pattern. I love the hanging lights in the centre of cami and love the huge space in the centre to ceiling.. There was a separate space for believers and non-believers. And there were travellers like me, taking non-stop shots, after sometime it does seem futile, all these photo shots. This is the world famous cami. Why not, just sit and observe the feel. I tried but there were too many people, too many guides, and too many doubts.. so off I went out and headed towards Hagia Sofia.. the famous church that was once masjid. Maybe its history or mere coincidence , I was entering it as a visitor and not as a religious person, I was more interested in the captivating history and the beautiful work. It did not disappoint me either. And then I decided to head towards the less known basilica cistern. A simple water storage which was built underground. I was not expecting anything, but it was one of the most surreal places I have ever been in my life. Its all dark and its lit with orange dim light. It has water collected in its base and it has huge,tall pillars all over the place. Its huge and I felt extremely small. For far far stretch you could only see pillars and the orange dim light and they were playing some trans-music. It was simply breathtaking. I had totally forgotten the history I had witnessed outside. I was back in time. There were heads of Medusa made out of stone in the far north-east corner of the cistern. It had rumours attached to it. Poor Medusa, I had always felt special attachment to her, because of the curly hair. A passionate woman who was punished for her love.

Coming out was like too much of sunlight for me. I sat and decided to just stare at people. When one is travelling alone, this habit really helps a lot. One gets used to observing even small small tiny steps of babies. And there happened the second miracle : I met a Spanish girl who spoke Turkish. It was really nice. I had not spoken to anyone in a long time and all these great thoughts were fizzling away, so meeting a fellow traveller was simply something I was looking forward to. We chatted away and finally parted our ways. She gave me enough energy to walk towards the famous grand bazaar. Its only meant for people who love shopping, see it for its old structures, the lovely sights of lamps, shades, flags, bags and other things. Its worth the walk.

I walked back from here to eminonu, the main centre from where I had caught the big boat ( vapur). I was tired and did not want to miss the sight of golden horn in the evening. I was told by a friend that I should not miss the sunset, so I decided to sit in the new Cami, its nearby. Yes, I had developed an odd habit of sitting in camis. I found them relaxing. I found them beautiful. If only I could lie down and stare at the ceiling. The lovely red, blue colours. I saw these patterns everywhere. The sunset was there, and the bridge was buzzing with people, travellers, locals, fishermen, the street-vendors, everyone wanted a piece of it. I stood there and stared at the beautiful Bosporus. How many people she nourished, how many years of civilization she witnessed. She had the famous view, the lights floating away, the sky and the sea becoming one.. I was witnessing one of the humblest scenes here. I was unaware of the traffic suddenly. The skyline of jamis, buildings and lights were all like a scene of Wong kar wai( hongkonese film director)!

Istiklal street + Taksim

this was the final thing to do in Istanbul. I was not really excited about it as I am not a party person. But I was in for a surprise even about this. I was supposed to visit this place with 2 of my friends. So here we were travelling in the metro chattering away, when a polish girl asked us for help. Imagine, English out of nowhere and she ends up joining in our journey to taksim. The famous taksim square, where all the youth of Istanbul supposedly has fun. We reached and Turkish people being Turkish, tried helping this girl . For full 2 hours we walked around with her looking for this hotel. It was such a hilarious scene. Me and my friend acted like proper tourists. So even in this search, we were busy taking photos.. istikal street is like a haven for graffiti, avant-garde works, for street musicians, pretty bohemian, so had to take photos. You would feel like you are being pulled into the sea of art. It looked like that. I was really really glad I was walking this street. And in between all of this dramam the good Turkish guy was busy being the perfect host-trying to find the hotel. After full 2 hours, we did find the hotel! Phew! But in this search, I learned all the streets in this place, all the lanes, all the old buildings, captured every bit of it in the camera.

So now we were four: 1 Turkish, 1 Kurdish, 1 Indian and 1 polish and there were more to come. Out of nowhere people started joining us. I found some of the most beautifully located café and restaurants. My friends took me to a cafe which was located right next to the famous galata tower. It was such a beautiful view. I could see the whole of Bosporus river with the city on its shore... I was busy taking shots.. It was cold and windy and Turkish cafes always provide you with shawls.. such a lovely thought : cold wind: chai: shawl: and the beautiful Bosporus and the blue sky.. I was lost in my sweet dream world... then we met a Dutch guy and more Turkish … by the time I realised time, I was high on rakuh( a turkish alcoholic drink_ with 45% alcohol, I would only recommend to people with good appetite for liqour along with nice white cheese) in a Turkish bar with a Spanish band playing on blast music.. It was the best live band I had ever heard. I even tried salsa with a Turkish guy... I could not believe I was at Istiklal caddesi at one in the morning with such a crazy schedule. I was so glad that I had such good friends to take care of me. Travelling back in the bus at 2 o clock in the morning,, looking at Bosporus bridge, the lights changing their shades.. I was too happy to be asleep.

My last ride was at 3 am in Istanbul, and that was the last time I saw Kiz kulesi. It was simply beautiful . I was sure I will miss Istanbul. One of the most beautiful places I have ever visited...

Human imagination is pretty restricted by the limits of our present knowledge. I could have never imagined Istanbul. I always believed in books I could live a city, Istanbul proved me wrong. Some things are to be seen. Istanbul you were a treat for me eyes :)  

Istanbul through lens- 1