Reminiscence from the Levant: Part Eight – An evening in Tadmor

In Palmyra, I stayed in a hotel called Ishtar… having stayed in backpackers inns for last two days, Ishtar was a welcome change- it was a two star hotel and a very comfortable one. The people in the hotel were very nice, especially a gentleman called Niam Turki… who probably owned the hotel.

The bus that brought me to Palmyra, dropped me some two kilometers from the hotel… reaching the hotel was an interesting incident… I met a gentleman who claimed that he was a relative of Niam Turki and offered me to give a lift to the hotel. He, however, took me to his house first and told his wife to prepare a tea for me… while he had to collect some wares from his house… Logically, it set an alarm ringing in my mind… anyway without any choice at hand, I played along… but as it turned out, the man was genuine… his home was en-route to the hotel… He later took me to the hotel… it was a nice experience, being in a Syrian home.

When I started my journey, I wanted to see only Petra… and Damascus… but today at the end of it all, if I am asked to recount the highlights of the journey… I would without a blink say, Palmyra and Jerusalem. Palmyra is the most beautiful oasis, I have ever seen. A morning and an evening increase the splendour of the place, manifolds. I was lucky to have arrived Palmyra by 4 in the evening. Niam told me that I must rush to see the panorama view of the entire Palmyra ruins from the Arab Castle that sits atop a hillock and overshadows the entire being-ness of the town.

However, reaching Arab Castle is not all that easy… it lies at the outskirts of the town and atop a hill… a leisurely walk may take almost an hour to reach there… whereas a taxi may take 4 dollars. I chose the former. Though after a kilometer of walk, I realized that if I keep advancing at the current pace… I may miss the most magical moment to be seen from the Arab Castle… the Palmyrian sunset… it is said that the orange-ish ruins of Palmyra look absolutely magical during the sunset.

From a distance, I saw a motorcycle man coming towards me… I took my chance and waived my thumb for hitchhiking. I was lucky… He was Kareem, who worked in a local mosque and was going towards it for his Maghrib prayers… He took a detour to drop me very near to the castle, at the base of the hill atop which the castle was located. Before he left, I gave him my pen as a memoir.

Even though the castle looks faraway and forlorn…. Atop there was a virtual stampede… to see the sunset… Palmyra is the most famous tourist stop of Syria… and in the lanes of Palmyra, you can see its touristy-ness at full display… however… walk a little bit and you are most certainly to find a place of solace, to quietly watch the sunset.

The ruins are magical… imagine an entire city that existed years ago… made up of orange stones that merger with the surrounding… this vantage speaks volume about the aesthetic sense of our forefathers… it occurred to me that whenever humans depend on local material to construct… the creation are far more grander and beautiful than a jamboree of construction material from far off land… the local construction material tends to merge with the surrounding, often creating an illusion as if mother nature had created it all. If one has to see it in action… all he has to do is to compare Tajmahal with Golden fort in Jaisalmer or the Ruins of Hampi (for some even comparing them would be blasphemous, but seeing Taj, you wonder at the human creativity and seeing Golden fort or Hampi ruins, you wonder where the mother nature ends and humans begin… and mind you there is a difference between the two thoughts)

After seeing the sunset, I walked down the hill… this time not through the road-that would have become infested with tourists, but through a dirt track on the other side of the hill… that seemed to lead me towards the funerary complex of the Palmyra ruins…

The funerary complex is an interesting place. There are tombs of commoners, one that have been dug into the earth in shape of caves and then there are tombs of nobles… upon which a brick tower has been built. Amidst them all a strange fear gripped me… I rushed away from the place… (The day next I came back to this place next day… there are a few tombs worth seeing, especially one that of three brothers- it has marvelous frescoes all around the internal chamber of the tomb). Leaving the place, I found a great spot to seat and enjoy the vantage of Palmyra ruins; it was located on a plateau overlooking the ruins directly.

Sitting over there, I was so enchanted that a tear rolled down my cheek… it was a magical experience. Human civilization has such a vast history… with periods when some cultural or ethnic group attained supreme superiority, unquestionable and unchallenged… but in the end everything ended as ruins and dust… if one sees the great monuments that Pharaohs built in the yesteryears… it would be very difficult to imagine that this civilization would have ever vanish from the face of the earth… and yet it did, after about 4000 years of unquestionable supremeness. And yet we somehow, ignore the lessons. We start thinking that we are invincible… ignoring and denying history has often been the talisman of the powerful to perpetuate his unjust way of dealing with the powerless. Who would have thought, some 100 years ago that sun would ever set on an empire that doesn’t see the sunset… and yet it did. If only we remembered history!!!!!!!!

After the sun had gone down, I retraced my steps towards the town. The town was embroiled in festivities, worthy for a touristy town… I sat down in one of the Bedouin tent and ordered a local dish called Mansaf, rice boiled in chicken stew and served with huge pieces of chicken marinated with spices. (However the portion was small, considering it was for 5 dollars, I showed my disappointment… the tent owner smiled and sent me another portion for the same cost)

It was a day well spent… having seen the ruins from far off… I was looking forward to see them tomorrow morning in its entire majestical splendour.

A night in Alexandria Part Two- A mid summer night dream

It has been quite some time since I wrote first part of this write up…

One of the methods that I have started using for last few months- is taking a lot of photographs of the place I visit… to such an extent, that I can build a story with these photographs… and then with their help, I remember and relish everything that occurred during the journey.

This works wonders, especially when I am traveling continuously for long periods… Photographs are a wonderful way of remembering the experiences.

I took a plethora of pictures during the Alexandria visit and stored them in a file… and one day I realized that the file had, somehow got, deleted. My guess is that my son, who is fond of randomly punching the keyboard, was the culprit behind it. (Heck I can't even interrogate him, he is less than 2 year old and whenever I do all he says is Baba, Mama, Baba)… Anyway once the photographs were gone… it was very difficult for me to remember events that ocurred in Alex… partly because I didn’t maintain a record of events and partly because… it was a dreamy visit… I just roamed through the streets of Alex in the night with sleepy eyes... doing whatever I felt like and forgetting whatever and whoever I was… and wouldn’t you agree that after waking up you forget the most cherishable dreams, only to relish the thought of had having it.

It took me some while to retrieve them back… in the process, I became more computer literate… not a bad deal at all, I will say.

The Indian music and dance programme was held in an open air theatre called Anfoushi Garden Open Air theatre. In contrast, we were allotted very performance friendly venues by the Egyptian authorities in other cities- in Cairo, in Ismailiya, in Al Fayuum… so I felt a bit disappointed…

However few moments later, upon strolling in the park… I realized that it was a beautiful place… with a artificial lake in the centre and a small but neatly landscaped garden all around… on one side of the lake was a spacious café… where I saw a lot of young Alex couples rendezvousing and on the other side there was a park for kids to play…. This place tucked away in amidst a residential colony… was not frequented by tourists… it was perhaps one of the best kept secrets of Alexandria…

The people who frequented the place were average middle class residents of Alexandria… The programme was not adequately advertised by the local sponsors and therefore we were not expecting a huge crowd, but instead what we got was the regular visitors to the place- who unsuspectingly came to the garden for a brief stroll and serendipitously discovered about the Indian dance and music programme and therefore chose to stay back to see it. The programme was, therefore, a success.

After returning back to our hotel, I stood for a while at the sea-facing balcony of my room and was mesmerized by the views of dazzling seafront that played hide and seek with the vastness of the darkness surrounding it. It beckoned me, it was time to go.

On one end of the Alexandria's seafront is the Quatbay citadel that stands at the same venue at which the wondrous Light House of yesteryears stood; and on the other end is the summer retreat of erstwhile kings of Egypt… the Montazah gardens. Our hotel was located near to the Quatbay citadel… Therefore I and Sudhir decided to take tram from a station near the hotel to the other end of the city, near Montazah Garden.

This was my first ride on a tram… in India, trams still run in Kolkata and though I stayed there for three months at a stretch… but never used it. In retrospect, I feel I missed a magical moment. Trams are a wonderful way of traveling. They are slow, yet meandering through the busy thoroughfares of the city; they give you a very candid glimpse of the city… and because they are not fast… you get ample time to absorb the essence… they are minimally endowed… without proper windows and doors… they are breezy, they smell like the city… they are the city.

However, instead of going all the way to Montazah… we alighted mid-way to check out the Miami Beach… Alexandria is full of small stretches of beach… some are private and some are free to use. The private beaches are less crowded but charge a hefty fee for entrance… where as the public beaches are definitely higher on life… with people all around even in the dead of the night. For a true experience of a Mid-Summer Night, don’t refrain yourself from going to one of the public beaches… howsoever pedestrian they may seem. And you will be rewarded by a most candid picture of Egyptian social life.

Unlike Indians, Egyptians strongly believe in holidaying… for them a summer vacation means a summer vacation, when they renew their family bonds… move out of Cairo… enjoy themselves. Alexandria and Marsa Matrouh are the most affordable destination for the Egyptians… the well to do Egyptians, however, go to Mediterranean resorts like Borg Al Arab and Soma Bay.

After spending an hour at the Miami Beach, we decided to stroll our way back to the hotel… a full 8 kms walk. It was one of the most memorable strolls, I ever took… sitting where ever we liked, having Shisha (the Egyptian water pipe) and Tea, watching the beautiful faces all around, pondering over the life, being a part of the revelry and yet being an observer… taking photos of each other… and relishing the fresh air that seems to be an amiss in Cairo.

By the time we came back to the hotel… we were rejuvenated… it was five in the morning… we covered 8 kms in 5 hours… and never even for a while the city slept… it kept awake and kept us awake.

Alexandria is magical… hope it remains that way… despite creeping change all around.

From the Archives- My 75th post

A friend of mine suggested me that I should start re-posting from my archives… the reason being that a casual visitor to my blog may not necessarily sift through the entire blog and therefore by re-posting my earlier pieces of writing… I will showcase them in a better way.

I like the idea… so I have decided that every 25^th post of mine will be something from the archives…

I invite comments from the readers (if any!!!!!!) on this.

Bombay- My City of Dreams, and Resilience

Posted on 12 July 2006

Around the same time when I was writing my last blog, yesterday, Bombay was rocked by series of blasts, which butchered about 200 people to death.

I was numb. It could have been me among those 200s. I have lived in Bombay for three years and have used those ill-fated suburban trains, nearly everyday of my living- many times a day. I do not have to stretch my imagination to see myself as a torn piece of flesh, lifeless and sacrificed on the altars of a stupid notion of political reasoning.

A few days ago, on the eve of Deepawali- New Delhi was rocked by another series of bomb blast, one of them in the crowded market of Sarojini nagar- this time I left the place ten minutes before the blast- and no sooner I had crossed the road. I heard a loud thud and then within minutes sirens of Police vans and ambulances. Again, I could have been ten minutes late in the market.

But, despite this hide and seek, of death- I am not shuddered. Not that I am not afraid of death. At times, I imagine what will befall on my seven-month-old kid if I am killed in a car-crash or if I accidentally fall from the balcony of my flat on the ninth floor of my building. For me that is fate, a scheme that is divine – which I cannot question. However, I am not afraid of a stray bomb of an even strayed individual, because that is not fate- it is a murder, a well-planned murder- to subdue me, to terrorize me- and by not subduing myself, by not getting terrorized, I defeat him even in the laps of death. I am not murdered, I am a true martyr. And I am not alone; I know out there every Indian shares the same feeling. Every Indian is a living martyr, living to embrace death anytime for the country.

I heard a few experts saying that perhaps, the Islamic militants were behind it. ‘Islamic Militant’ is a word that is an invention to simplify and generalize our understanding of global terrorism as a phenomenon. I have a very serious reservation to this invention. By inventing this nomenclature- for the sake of simplifying and generalizing our academic database on global terrorism, we do not only demean the religion of Islam, but also create an idea of significance for an otherwise peaceful adherent of Islam, and a majority belongs to them- despite the prevalent notions, elsewhere.

First and foremost, no religion teaches this mindless violence- when targets are not even remotely connected to the perceived grievance. I have read the Holy Koran- and am yet to find a verse, which propagates such a heinous idea. On the contrary I feel, that it is a message, if followed- will lead to nothing else but peace, tolerance, compassion and universal brotherhood, same as a Bible would, a Guru Granth Sahib would, as a Ramayana would. The message of every religion is the same. Therefore, those who perpetrate such an evil cannot derive their doctrine from the holy book. And they are least Muslim. I claim to be a better Muslim than them, despite being a Hindu, despite praying in front of an idol. The truth lies not in rituals but in the spirit; I have a spirit that is more innocent, more humble, and more compassionate than anyone of them may ever dream to have despite their rituals.

Secondly, those who claim to fight for a just Islamic cause- would do nothing but disfavour to the same community for which they claim to wage a war. What are the chances that a blast in suburban train would kill their own brother, 1 in 5 or even larger. It is not as if Muslims do not use the suburban trains, it is not as if they do not shop at sarojini nagar. They do, and the perpetrators know it rather too well. And yet they choose to ignore them because they are not fighting for Islamic cause, they are just fighting a political battle, where they will be the beneficiary- where they will convert their listless existence into an elitist one, of power owners. And simply to camouflage their narrow interest and a teething inferiority complex, they claim to derive their ideology from a noble and compassionate religion, thus demeaning it.

Their idea is far too simple- create terror, so that a normal man lives in its shadow, and two severe the centuries old bond between Hindus and Muslim, largely secular in spirit and create grounds for proliferating themselves. They may choose to ignore it, but my best friend is a Muslim, her parents were the happiest person when I was blessed with a baby. They may never like to believe, that in India a Hindu marriage is not completed without specific rituals by Muslim barbers, and mine had the same ritual. They may fret and frown, but Sarojini nagar returned (and not limped) back to normalcy in a matter of hours. They may bang their heads against wall, but no communal riot broke out, when the holy city of Varanasi was targeted by them. They may cry in despair but Bombay will be normal by now, the suburban railway system was back into chugging in seven hours.

And I saw images people helping people, people solacing people.

A few days ago, a poll said that Bombay is the most selfish city in the world. I laughed at them. Today I pity them, for being awfully wrong in understanding the spirit of Bombay. Selflessness is not about asking how are you and saying I am fine thank you. Its about being there in times of need, like the mumbaikars.

Plans for a great Egyptian circuit

In next four- five months I will be leaving Cairo and Egypt… and even though I have tried to visit practically every nook and corner of this beautiful country… some still remain. Among them are strangely… one of the most beautiful and famous place of Egypt… Abu Simble and one that I would have loved to go over and over again… the Basata eco-camp near Nuweiba. Nevertheless, I still have a few months to go… seeing Abu Simble (and a few left over sights in Aswan) requires no more than a longish weekend… and I will definitely allot one weekend for it.

However for other places, I have a grand Egyptian circuit of about 2 weeks in my mind… will try to cover all the places which I ever wanted to see and yet could not see….

The rough route for the circuit is

• Cairo
• Alexandria* (I plan it as a brief stopover, this time visit Rosetta)
• Siwa* (Have visited the Oasis once and yet it was a whirl windy tour… this time I will just relax in the oasis)
• Qara (a small unknown oasis near Siwa)
• Baharaiyya (will come to Baharaiyya via the Siwa-Baharaiyya desert road and will stop for a while to see golden mummies)
• Mut* (have been here once…loved the place, a brief stopover)
• Kharga* (although did not like the place, but would like to visit Dush and Baris from the place)
• Baris (a small unknown oasis south of Kharga)
• Assyut (never visited the place)
• Sohag (never visited the place)
• Qena (again never visited the place)
• Hurgadha (a famous resort town, though I will make just a brief stop over and take a ferry to Sharm Al Sheikh)
• Sharm El Sheikh* (again a brief stopover to go to Dahab)
• Dahab ( have bee there for a few hours and yet just loved the place)
• Basata (will chill out for a day in the eco-camp)
• Ismailiya* (have been there, but I gather that to go to El Arish I has to necessarily come to Ismailiya… I found out that there is another way to El Arish...much more direct, through a small town called Nakhl though this route is not open for foreigners… will try my luck, otherwise will just come to Ismailiya)
• El Arish (a beautiful Mediterranean town… famous haunt for the Palestinian heading for Gaza Strip)
• Qanatara (a canal town, will have a brief stop over)
• Port Said (the entrance to the Suez Canal.. some tell me that it is otherwise also a beautiful little town)
• Damietta (a small little Mediterranean town, a brief stopover)
• Cairo

So if one refers to the map of Egypt… he will realize that I am for all practical purpose traversing the entire Egypt, barring the Nubian valley.

I await to realize my plan… and so should you.

Reminiscence from the Levant: Part Seven– Remembering Krac De Chevaliers

Have you ever gawked at the image of Mariam Fares… Among all the glamorous Lebanese singers, I rate her the most beautiful and glamorous…. No Haifa Wehbe, No Nancy Ajram, No Rola Saad… one look at her and you will know why I say so.

She is a Maronite Christian… so are Nancy Ajram and Rola Saad… Maronite Christians live in the hilly northern regions of Lebanon… very much contiguous to the Syrian hills… and before the division, they were the same entity… so most of the Christians in Syria and Lebanon share the same gene pool, if not sect. And are they beautiful!!!!! Google Mariam Fares and decide for yourself.

As soon as Abdu realized (and wrongly so) that I was a Christian… he offered me to take to a place called Saint George Monastery a few kilometers before Krac De Chevaliers…the Monastery was beautiful… but the visitors to the monastery were more so. It was, luckily, a Sunday.

Saint George has a beautiful setting… atop a plateau that overlooks a serene valley…and far away, you can see a faint Krac De Chevaliers that plays hide and seek with the mountain mist, crowning over the hill range…even in a summer afternoon.

The church has three parts… a monastery, an administrative building and then a beautiful two floored church, with the basement having a small old church from the yesteryears used for religious ceremonies and a big church built over it for mass usages…. I visited the big church first… In its make and décor; it was quite similar to the Hanging Church in Cairo. Pictures depicting the Christian mythology… an altar to light candles… it was like I was standing in the Hanging Church once again…. For the first time over here, I was introduced to the beautiful art of Madaba mosaics…(In which huge portraits and scenes were depicted by the mosaics of small coloured stones… an art so beautiful that it can mesmerize you for hours together). Right below this church was a smaller older church that is used for religious ceremonies like baptism, marriages etc.

The church was flocked by local Christian families…beautiful faces all around… a small little girl attired in bridal wear, caught my attention. She was no more than two or three years of age. I asked her mother about the occasion in broken Arabic, she smiled and answered me in fluent English… it was her baptism ceremony… and after knowing that I am from India, invited me over to join the ceremony. I sat on a wooden chair and intently watch the ceremony… After the ceremony, I rushed outside the church and bought a small rose bud and gifted it to the young girl… she smiled and so did I.

I proceeded towards the most magical Krac De Chevaliers… also called Qalaat Al Husn (Citadel of beauty)… famous for its beauty and magnificence. So beautiful it is, that T.E. Lawrence (the famed Lawrence of Arabia) termed it as “the best preserved and most wholly admirable castle in the world” and so magnificent it was that it inspired an entire generation of forts in entire Europe… so in a sense it is mother of all forts.

When Crusader used to come from Europe to the mainland Levant, for their conquest of Jerusalem… they faced the Lebanese hills as the first obstacle… and there was only one way to avoid these hills, the Homs Gap. Perched atop a 600 meter hill, this mighty castle overlooks the Homs Gap and therefore could have challenged any possible incursion from the Gap. The fort was constructed by the kings of Aleppo for exactly this purpose… but at that time it was not properly fortified and therefore fell into the hands of Crusaders… who handed it to the mighty Knights Templar, a efficient commando-like force created to protect the Christian pilgrims on their journey to Jerusalem (And if you have read Da Vinci Code… they had a secret purpose, too- probably that of securing and guarding the Holy Grail. When I first heard their name in Krac- I shivered). However it was won back by the mighty Salahuddin and then was held by the Mamluks and then the Ottomans. (Mamluks were an interesting lot, literally Mamluk means a slave… They were brought to the Middle East from the Far East as slaves cum neutral soldiers and Islamized- Before them the nobles and Princes who became bigger than their shoe posed serious challenge to the Kings often usurping power, the King's military was hardly neutral and used to side with one side or the other... thus it was thought that Mamluks will serve the purpose of a neutral armed force, but it was not to be. They rose in ranks, usurped power and formed one of the mightiest dynasties of the region. Initial representations of Mamluks are with distinctly Mongolian features.)

The fort itself is huge… it is one of the finest specimens for a novice like me… one can see an entire city inside it… stables, kitchen, mess, prayer halls, living quarter, two rows of defences, watch tower, mazes… and what not. Give yourself at least two hours to feel the magic of the place… the fort is amazingly well kept and therefore remains quite self explanatory. Take a stroll around and discover its logic and magic.

Near the watch tower I met a beautiful little kid with his younger brother. They had rushed ahead leaving their family behind and were quarrelling over something. I asked them if I can take their photograph, they readily agreed and forgot their quarrel to pose as wonderful friends…. They become very friendly with me and started following me everywhere. And then all of a sudden the elder brother asked me as to where I am from. I told them that I am from India… prompting a reply from him… he told me gleefully that he was a Muhajir from Iraq, I was touched- and wondered if only he could understand what it means being a refugee. I felt something amiss within me, when I waved a good bye to this kid.

Abdu later told me that Syria is one of the main destinations for the beleaguered Iraqis and this exodus is a human tragedy… qualified Engineers are working as chauffeurs and petty labourers, many women have taken to prostitution and prices have swollen to ridiculous levels in Syria, because of this influx.

I left Krac for Homs… where I took a bus for Tadmor, the land of date trees and the ruins of Palmyra.

Reminiscence from the Levant: Part Six – Hassassins and an old tailor

During the Crusades….the crusaders and the Muslims feared a deadly force called Hassassins… stories of the hassassins has assumed mythical proportions in the Levant.

So who were these Hassassins… according to reliable sources… they were a sect within Shiite Islam, specifically the Nizari Ismailis…who, under the intoxication of 'Hashish' committed daring and fearless murders during the crusades of Muslims and Crusaders alike… such was their terror that the mighty Salahuddin, after their two failed assassination attempts on him, called a truce and made them an ally. Hassassins distorted the religious teachings and made casting terror as their religious duty… that would give them "immediate entry to paradise of sweet food and wine and beautiful and willing women." (Does it sound familiar, even today?)

Hassassins were not only fearless, but also great strategists… they used the art of intelligence and sabotage to their advantage… their spies used to infiltrate enemy camps to get the vital information… followed by an assassination attempts… Some call them mercenaries who used to act at the behest of anybody who paid them well. So they acted for Crusaders and Muslims alike, killing anybody and everybody… the rulers of Aleppo were particularly close to the Hassassins, who gave recognition to a de-facto Hassassin state in the hills of Syria… One of their castles survives till date… MISYAF.

Misyaf is a small little town without much else to show…

I was carrying all my essential wares in a waist bag… like my passport, money, some medicines, camera and a paper & a pen…At Apamea, I realized that the chain of the front pouch of my waist bag was not functioning properly… I asked Abdu if I can get it re-made somewhere… and he drove me to a tailor in Misyaf…he was an old man called Yasser with a face full of wrinkles and a very warm smile…as soon as he realized my predicament… he started working on my waist bag… He checked in one of his shelves for a spare chain of the same size… and luckily enough found one to suit my need…then he told me to go and visit the castle while he works on the bag.

Misyaf castle was totally destroyed by the Ottomans… who made it a point to teach a lesson to these "bunch of mercenaries". In recent times, however, the castle was re-built by Agha Khanis… that belong to the Ismaili sect closely related to the Hassassins sect (the Agha Khan's sect is, however, a very moderate and very civilized sect… excelling in life and highly respected). He told me that Agha Khan often comes to this town because his father's tomb is located over here.

The castle it self is very small… but very tactfully done…with a lots of secret ways… that used to lead a person in and out, small and pitch dark chambers… where the Hassassins used to meditate after having a dose of Hashish…. However even the restoration work has not been able to re-do the magic of the place…it did not take more than twenty odd minutes for me to see the castle… though a walk outside the castle reveals a lot of interesting things…the outlets of many secret passage ways, the remains of shelling, and the sharp bend of walls that does not let anybody realize if there is somebody just around the corner, till the very last moment… often working to the advantage of the Hassassins.

From atop the castle, one can see beautiful views of the hill town of Misyaf… Abdu had told me that hereafter a very beautiful Mountain Road begins that takes us to Krac De Chevaliers.

When I went back to the tailor, he had finished working on my waist bag. I offered him some money as he had used his time, labour and material… but he refused. I looked towards Abdu… he smiled and said –whatever I may try a Syrian never charges money for his hospitality.

On our way to Krac through the mountain road, I realized that the road is punctuated with apple orchards, fig orchards and small little village… the women in these villages were much more liberally dressed than the women I had seen in either Aleppo or Hamah… these were Christians…

Syrian Christians are not a homogeneous sect, unlike in Egypt… where everybody is a Copt… some follow the Eastern Orthodoxy, some the Greek orthodoxy, some are Maronites and some are even Roman Catholics… and yet I believe most have the same gene pool. I have always said that to see the exotic features of the original inhabitants of any place in Middle East, see the Christians of that place… and in countries like Levant, Turkey and Egypt still have a sizeable Christian population left… Muslims other hand have intermarried a lot and it is very difficult to say that this feature is attributable to this land.

During the second semester of Arabic, I had a very pretty girl Maria Korkunc in my class…she was from Norway… and for quite some time, I was perplexed because of her features that were definitely oriental… black hairs, black eyes, fairish brown skin… then some days later she told me that she was a Turk… but a Syrian Christian.

These villages were small and beautiful… overlooking orchards on one side and a beautiful valley on the other… and with small way side chapels. I stopped Abdu at one of the chapel and visited it… it was very beautiful indeed. Abdu thought that I was a Christian… earlier during the travel we had been talking about the position of Christians in Syria and he was at pains to tell me that they are not persecuted, as the western Media would like us to believe.

Further ahead, I saw a huge Apple orchard and a person selling apples in a nearby stall, I enquired the price… 25 Syrian Pounds (roughly 20 Indian Rupees) for a kilo of Lebanese Apples (well there is not much of difference), I remembered how we had to pay more than 100 Indian Rupees equivalent for the same in Cairo. I purchased two kilos of it.

These proved to be one of the soundest investments. All along the journey, people helped me and did not seek a penny in return… I used to offer them an apple instead and they happily took it.

Reminiscence from the Levant: Part Five – Driving along with Abdu

In Hamah, I decided that my next stop will be Palmyra….And if it had to be- then I was giving myself a very little time to see a lot of near by places… Apamea, Krac De Chevaliers, Misyaf and few other places en-route.

Abdullah suggested me to take a taxi by myself and start very early in the morning to see Hamah by early morning and then proceed to Apamea, then to Misyaf and then tread along the picturesque Mountain road to Krac De Chevaliers…. Thereafter, he said, I am free to either come back to Hamah and stay over in the night or alight at Homs… and take a bus to Palmyra. I chose the latter.

My driver was an elderly man named Abdu…he will be forever etched in my memory. When I paid 46 US Dollars to Abdullah for arranging a taxi- all I sought was touring around all the above places… but what I got, instead, was a friend- who not only showed me all these places- but also showed me many other places en-route, told me the history and sociology behind it all… and when I offered a baksheesh for his service, he smiled and hugged me and said- I would not take anything extra, for you are my friend. He instead gave me a scrap book- in which I wrote "Today I had one of the most beautiful day of my life…Syria and Abdu will be forever etched in my heart, and if I do come back… which I will, of course- I will again contact you Abdu and this time go to even beautiful locales".

Back last evening, while visiting the parks around the Norias- I saw a lot of families enjoying themselves… I could not, but, appreciate the beauty of Syrian women… by all standards- they are very beautiful… without an iota of making up for it. It was not only the fairness, the features, the body structure- tall and sleek but also the mannerisms, the grace, the feminine demeanor that lent them an air of elegance. In comparison to Hamah, Aleppo's women were lacking in feminine grace. Abdullah told me that Hamah is at the cross roads of Damascus and Aleppo, the two ever spatting towns… Aleppo prides itself on its candidness and Damascus on its cultured ways… Hamah has it all.

Seeing Norias in the morning is magical… with few people around, and yet the wheel turning relentlessly with creaking sounds that is not lost in the cacophony. This creaking sound with the burbling of the rivulet causes a beautiful music.

Abdu drove me to the biggest Noria in the town, called Al Muhammadiya… which is located in the northern outskirts of the town…it has a 21 meters diameter and was constructed in 1361. In yesteryears it used to supply water to a mosque that was located on a raised platform and also used to run an olive press and a flour mill. Much of its utility has dissipated and yet the Noria runs continuously to echo the history that shaped it and history that it shaped.

En route to Apamea, we came across Al Malik citadel… a huge citadel constructed by Noorudin Zaki, who was the teacher of Salahuddin- often celebrated by Muslims as the liberator of Jerusalem from the Crusaders. Abdu told me that Noorudin was a very learned man and an authority in both the theology and natural sciences...

When contrasted with today, it makes me sad that contemporary Islamic scholars have closed their eyes to science and technology- dubbing it as western and therefore not worth emulating… they fail to understand that Science has no nationality and it is just a matter of current trend that major scientific developments are happening in the West, there was a time when all the major scientific discoveries were happening in the Middle East, before that in India and China… Contrast it to the era of Crusades, when out of superstition, the Christians were busy making army of children to re-claim Jerusalem… Muslims were busy inventing new weaponry to turn the tides… Religion and Science are not anti-thetical; they may well be brother in arms.

Al Malik Citadel has been continuously inhabited since its construction in 12^th Century… it has a huge historical value and therefore plans are afoot to shift the entire population of this citadel to a new township. A small museum displaying the archaelogical finds of the citadel is also there, though not much of an interest.

On leaving Al Malik citadel and moving towards Apamea, one comes across sight of a beautiful valley… from a distance and a height it looks like a locale, absolutely out of a fairy tale … verdant green with a backdrop of hills…chequred fields… water and crops around. The Al-Gaab valley.

Wadi Al Gaab is a depression which used to remain perennially flooded with the spill over from River Orontes and other nearby water bodies… with time it became a huge swamp land…. In 1950, the government constructed a huge dam to keep away the water from flooding the depression and reclaimed the entire Wadi… and what resulted was the most fertile land in the entire region… Abdu told me that as of today, the Wadi provides third of all agriculture produce of Syria. I stopped the car and absorbed the magic of the place, before proceeding further.

Further ahead, one starts seeing ruins all around… heralding the advent of Apamea… a huge Roman city constructed by Seleucus Nicator about 2400 years ago... who married his daughter to Chandragupta Maurya and sent Megasthenes to his court...

Apamea is located on a raised plateau…an entire city so magnificent that one just needs to see the ruins and close his eyes to feel the magic of the place, engulfing him all over. It has a two kilometers long row of colonnade pillars… The entire city was struck by a huge earthquake some 800 years ago… yet this massive colonnade columns survived to bear the testimony of the wonder it was.

Standing amidst those columns made me feel insignificant yet important… insignificant in front of human achievements… and important because of human achievements… it was an indescribable rush of emotions…the last time I had it while standing infront of the Virupaksha Temple in Hampi…

My trance was broken by a man, who claimed to sell the coins from yesteryears… I showed my disinterest… later while walking towards the other end of the colonnade column row… I met an old Australian couple… the man was a professional Photographer and the lady was a bored housewife… We spoke with each other for half an hour about their experiences in India…and how she they found India to be the most magical place of them all… While bidding adieu, she commented, jokingly… "at last I am talking to a man with flesh and blood otherwise I have to merely follow my husband's footsteps for an even better 'shot'.''

Reminiscence from the Levant: Part Four – World is my Oyster

In the second year of Chemical Engineering, I had a subject called Fluid Dynamics… for a laymen…it was an enquiry into the physical laws governing the flow of liquid in a particular trajectory. Much of what we have achieved in this discipline can be attributed to a genius called Bernoulli… who propounded something called Bernoulli Equation from the principle of conservation of energy.

Imagine re-visiting Bernoulli Equation in the alien land of Syria.

Hamah is a small little town in Central Syria; along the banks of River Orontes… it has a huge history especially in the medieval ages when it was initially a part of Byzantine empire… then changed hands and came under Arabs… then under the Crusaders… then under the Mamluks and finally under the Ottomans… and because it was a riverside town… it held great importance for all of them… as an important source of civil supplies.

In recent times, though, it evokes unpleasant memories… In 1980's it was centre of a widespread revolt by Islamists, quelled by a brutal repression in which nearly 25000 people were killed. Some say the casuality was even more… However nobody in Hamah talks about it. I casually tried asking people something about it, often causing discomfort to them… but came across a collective denial of the events.

I stayed in a hotel run by a Palestinian called Abdullah, a wonderful host and an even wonderful businessman. Palestinians, I have realized, lay a huge importance on education… Most of the Palestinians I have met in life are much better educated that their Arab brethren… they are either white collar employees or are entrepreneurs in the field of service industry. People without nations, often discover new ways to survive and succeed… Abdullah had a Palestinian father and Syrian mother… he was born and brought up in Syria… and yet is not a Syrian citizen. He will never be… its really confounding that the countries that seem to yell atop the roofs for Palestinian rights, often give little more than a lip service when it comes to providing rights to Palestinian refugees in their countries…. Few months ago, I was speaking to a Palestinian lady, now a European citizen, about how she felt that their status was much better in Europe than in the "friendly Arab countries".

The most fascinating part of Hamah is seeing its Norias… the giant water wheels that were constructed in and around 12-13^th century AD to utilize the water of River Orontes for civic purposes…. These water wheels were used to lift water up to 20 metres and then through a series of overhead canals, were taken to various parts of the town… in the mosques, in the houses, in the parks and communal places… and were used to run mills and olive presses.

But the most fascinating part of the Norias… was that they were driven purely by the flow of water and had no external mechanical force to drive them. The process was simple… bifurcating the river water into a channel that progressively narrowed, thus forcing the water to flow faster and gain in kinetic energy… this kinetic energy is then used to move the water wheels.

The Norias of Hamah were constructed some 700 years ago, back then they were engineering marvels… they are more so today, for about a dozen odd Norias continue to function till date. Hamah can easily be called the town of Norias… The government has constructed beautiful parks around them and they have become a picnic spots for the people. It was a wonderful experience visiting them in the evening- with a lot of festivities around- among hundreds of locals, I was the only foreigner.

Earlier in the day, after returning from Saint Simeon, I visited the Aleppo citadel… it is huge by any standard… but the soul was missing… it’s a pity that such a marvelous place is so ill kept… I have seen very small castles in Cyprus… that have masked their insignificance by small museums, signboards and a plethora of information on life and times of the castle… in the Aleppo citadel there was none of it…. Nevertheless the views from atop the citadel are simply amazing… the entire city of Aleppo in all its magnificence is visible… one can see on one side the herald of the desert and its yellowish tinge on land… and on the other, the green of the fields in the north.

I strolled aimlessly on the streets of Aleppo… I came across a small park named after Gamal Abdul Nasser… echoing the days when Syria and Egypt formed the United Arab Republic… then there is a small museum just in front of the park, worth exploring if one has time… I was told much of Aleppo's treasure lies in Damascus Museum, though.

Thereafter, I packed my bag and walked towards the Bus Station… before reaching Syria, I was told that the Bus system in Syria is bad… but I found it to be good enough… strange thing was that in the Bus I was served complimentary water and snacks. An errand boy was helping all the passengers to keep their luggage and locate their seats… he was extra helpful to me… I thought he wanted some Baksheesh… after settling down, I offered him a coin of 5 Syrian Pound... he refused and said - you are a guest.

Aleppo… was the first city outside India, where I went without any refuge… without any acquaintance… and yet somewhere I felt, I knew everybody and everybody knew me…. It would be forever etched in my heart. It re-taught me something I knew and yet refused to believe… that for a traveler… World is his oyster

This is for you UD

Last night, I had a dream… and I found myself with a very dear friend of mine… Udayan Upreti... (lovingly referred as UD by all of us)…. He used to sing this song for all of us…. Laced with all his innocence..

Tell Laura I Love Her

(Ray Peterson)

Laura and Tommy were lovers
He wanted to give her everything
Flowers, presents,
But most of all, a wedding ring

He saw a sign for a stock car race
A thousand dollar prize it read
He couldn't get Laura on the phone
So to her mother, Tommy said

Tell Laura I love her
Tell Laura I need her
Tell Laura I may be late
I've something to do, that cannot wait

He drove his car to the racing grounds
He was the youngest driver there
The crowed roared as they started the race
Around the track they drove at a deadly pace

No one knows what happened that day
Or how his car overturned in flames
But as they pulled him from the twisted wreck
With his dying breath, they heard him say

Tell Laura I love her
Tell Laura I need her
Tell Laura not to cry
My love for her will never die

Now in the chapel where Laura prays
For her poor Tommy, who passed away
It was just for Laura he lived and died
Alone in the chapel she can hear him cry

Tell Laura I love her
Tell Laura I need her
Tell Laura not to cry
My love for her will never die

Tell Laura I love her
Tell Laura I need her
Tell Laura not to cry
My love for her will never die

"Tell Laura I Love her" is a teenage tragedy song written by Jeff Barry and Ben Raleigh, was an American Top Ten popular music hit for singer Ray Peterson in 1960 on RCA Victor Records. Later that same year, the song was recorded and released by Ricky Valance in the United Kingdom, where it went all the way to the #1 spot in the UK Singles Chart.

Reminiscence from the Levant: Part Three – The magic starts

Do you know what is the most liberating experience…?

Close your eyes… imagine yourself transported to an alien land… where you know nobody and nobody knows you… imagine a small road somewhere over there… hugged by two rows of pine and alder trees… and imagine yourself walking down the road…without a soul and without a botheration… that is the most liberating experience.

Saint Simeon (Qalaat Samaan) is about 35 kms away from the hurly burly of Aleppo… a quaint little ruin of an erstwhile grand monastery… it is one of the most beautiful monastery one may come across… but sadly, as everybody told me, there was no public transport to that place…

Saint Simeon was an ordinary shepherd, whose life was changed by a revelation… and thus followed an ascetic life... that catapulted this ordinary soul into a saint… A huge Byzantine church was built after him… at a place, where he lived most of his life…

My hotel owner told me that though there is no public transport to Saint Simeon… but I may get a minibus till a place called Dar Al Ezza… some 10 kms ahead of Saint Simeon… and thereafter I can take a taxi or just walk down….

However… pronouncing either Qalaat Samaan or Dar Al Ezza was a difficult thing for me… most of the people on the road could hardly understand me (believe me pronouncing them, for a non-native, can be really difficult)… however, they kept referring me to a person, whom they thought was a veteran of English... till they collectively solved my problem.

Finally I was able to find a shared minibus to Dar Al Ezza….It was a half an hour ride… the bus meandered through the city of Aleppo… and then leaving it behind ushered into the countryside… and whatever image the word 'Arab' creates (that of a desert)… this country side was lush green… villages were small with cottage like houses amidst vast expanses of greens… as if recreating all the images of European countryside that I have seen, courtesy the Yashraj films (an Indian film producer who has created a genre of his own… socially relevant escapist romances, vastly popular among urban middle class)…

It was a Friday and therefore the entire village of Dar Al Ezza had come to stand still… hardly a few souls around… somebody told me that sometimes a few minibuses run on the route to Saint Simeon… and can drop me very close to it… I intently waited for them… for more that half an hour…

Are you from India…? A very fair gentleman also waiting for, perhaps a bus, asked me… I am used to this question… somehow, everybody tends to guess that we Indians are "Indians", perhaps we have some special features… or perhaps our mannerisms are all too distinguishable… I nodded… he said that he was waiting for his truck that is coming from Aleppo and would take him to his village located on a nearby foothill and I can join him till Saint Simeon…

On the way, we chatted for a while… he was an ethnic Kurd… and has been living in Syria since birth…

I was always under the impression that ethnic Kurd are mostly in Iraq, Iran and Turkey… but he told me that there is a sizeable population in Syria and Azerbaijan, too. He casually asked me about my religion… I told him that I was Hindusi (that’s how Arabs know the religion of Hinduism)… I counter-questioned him about his religion, with an understanding that most of the ethnic Kurds are Muslims with a minority of Christians…. He, instead, dropped a bombshell… he said that he was a Zoroastrian… (Now weren’t we always told that Zoroastrian are only in India…and have perished in their native homeland)… he said that for ages, the Zoroastrian Kurds have been surviving by hiding their religion… masquerading as either Christian or Muslims… as per the need of the hour. He knew that many of his brethren are living in India and doing very well in life… and that’s why he has a natural fondness for India…

I was taken aback, I asked him as to how many Zoroastrians survive among the Kurds…he smiled and said, more than you will ever expect, especially in Syria and Iraq…. he bid me a good bye, at a junction and pointed out at a road that led to Saint Simeon....It is very difficult to be a citizen without a nation…

Thus I came to the road that gave me the most liberating experience.

Saint Simeon is beautiful… it makes you imagine a lot of things about the life of yesteryears… and yet the vantages from the place are even more beautiful…. I just sat down for hours together at one of the vantages and enjoyed the scenery around… small villages amongst the vastness of green… small hillocks at the horizon… if I would have blinked, I would have definitely wondered as to where am I… in Syria…or in the foothills of Shivalik… but I did not blink, I did not lose even a moment of that scenery. But for indicators… do not miss the Basilica of Saint Simeon… it is very much intact… and you don’t need to imagine a lot to create the magic of yesteryears…

The guard of the place indicated me a place, far off… where Saint Simeon used to live and pray before he shifted to this place… from a distance it seemed beautiful… and even though he warned me that the dirt track that seems to lead you to the place, is full of dead ends… nevertheless, the place beckoned me and I just rushed towards the place…

A determined person, like water, always find a way to move… I reached the place after half an hour long trek… the ruins were beautiful and haunting at the same time… not a soul nearby ... while wandering near the broken walls of one of the ruins… I saw something very interesting… an engraving of INVERTED SWASTIK… (Was it some kind of religious symbol from yesteryears, I wondered…In fact a swastik symbol was used in many christian monuments, as a hooked version of cross in the Gothic era)… a little later, I realized that I am feeling thirsty and that I have left my water bottle atop the Saint Simeon… without any alternative, I strayed into a nearby village… and upon seeing a group of children, I asked for some water… the kids not only brought me water… but ushered me into their house and offered me some figs… and tea…sitting with them and enjoying the fresh figs was a unique cultural experience…. It numbed me… humbled me, and for me that is the most important lesson one can learn while traveling… humility… being rich or successful does not mean being better….

Reminiscence from the Levant: Part Two- First brush with Syria

Day before yesterday, I was partying with a few friends of mine… it was hosted by a friend of mine, named Atal… an Indian, who presently works for a US based consultant and is working on a project with some Egyptian organization. Upon hearing my travel experiences, he jokingly remarked that in Egypt, if a person has a beautiful (and dutiful) wife… people refer him as having a Syrian wife. In retrospect, I found some truth in it.

Syrian women in the streets of Aleppo are much fairer, slimmer and attractive than their Egyptian counterpart…. However they were all decked up with a headwear and a long gown like suit… Initially, I thought that this, perhaps, is an indication of a conservative society… but as it unfolded later, it was not the true picture.

My taxi driver from the Airport to the hotel was one Moinuddin… he was a young lad, very talkative and as soon as he found out that I am able to speak and understand Arabic… he just went on and on… he introduced me to Aleppo and told me about the places to be visited and what to buy as souvenirs… and unlike what taxi drivers at other places would do, he hardly ever offered me to take to all these places… instead at one point of time he said that Aleppo has an excellent network of Servees (shared minibuses) and I should use them to save time and money.

I asked him if I can visit the famous Aleppo citadel in the night, today… he answered in negative and said that today night the citadel is having a music concert (a ticket of which is USD 50) and that singers from Lebanon are coming for the same… I asked if Haifa Wahbi will be coming for the concert… his eyes twinkled for a moment… and then he let out a cold sigh and said – No, she is banned in Syria. I told him about the incident when I saw Haifa at Cairo airport, once… and thereafter he subjected me with a barrage of questions… what she looks like, what was she wearing…

Aleppo is the second largest city of Syria, but it doesn’t take its ranking too seriously… However, touristically speaking it has a lot to offer… It has a wonderful old town (with a lot of old mosques and churches, especially that of Armenian and Greek denomination), a wonderful citadel (second largest in Syria, just after the magical Crac), a marvelous vaulted souq (typically Levantine…with narrow alleys and by-alleys and a covering canopy over the entire souq), a huge mosque (though unlike the Umayyad mosque of Damascus, the entry, it seems, is regulated for non-Muslims)…. And the beautiful excursions from Aleppo… leading to places like Saint Simeon, Apamea, and an array of Dead cities…

I first heard about Aleppo- when I was in my teens, while reading Macbeth and Othello (both of them incidentally are my favourites)… at that time it was just a name, for me… and today I was standing in the confines of this great city… which alongside Damascus and Sana'a is often referred as the oldest continuously inhabited city of the world. It is said that when Rome was built is 8^th Century BC, Aleppo had already seen more than 2000 years of existence. It was one of the most important stops along the Silk Route. And today it is listed as a UNESCO world heritage site in its entirety.

My hotel called Al Jawaher was bang opposite another landmark of the city, called clock tower… and thereafter there was a huge marketplace…Without much to do after checking into the hotel, I casually walked towards the old city… through this marketplace… and to my wonderment the first shop I came across was selling Hindi movie VCDs… and there were people fervently buying them all…. In India, we often treat the "masala" Bollywood movies with a condescend… and yet I have seen them playing a huge role in public diplomacy (I was recently introduced to this term by my friend Raja Karthikeya, studying Diplomacy in Washington… according to Wikipedia- in international relations, the term describes aspects of international diplomacy other than the interactions between national governments.)… I have seen the Bollywood playing a huge role in Egypt, in Algeria, in Syria, in Jordan… and many other places… it makes an image of India… it makes India known to many… The other day I was reading an article comparing soft power of China and India… and how Indian movies are seen distinctly as Indian… whereas the Hong Kong movies are often seen as an extension of the Hollywood.

The old city of Aleppo is magical… this was the first time, I was being introduced to the walled cities of the Middle East, one of its best and most wonderful example being Jerusalem. It has beautiful mosques, churches, Baths, lanes and by lanes, heritage building converted into hotels and restaurants, huge courtyards- where local kids still play as they used to, centuries ago… Somebody rightly remarked that you stay in Aleppo for months together and yet are barely able to scrap the surface of it.

Thereafter, I strolled to the other side of the city towards the Great Mosque and Citadel… I realized that roads of Aleppo are neat and clean and the pavements are free from any encroachments… therefore, strolling in Aleppo is a pleasure… unlike say in most of the cities of India and in Cairo.

The Great mosque was a wonderful site from a distance… however buildings have come up near the place, haphazardly… destroying the commanding position of its grand minaret. It is said that once this Great mosque rivaled the great Umayyad mosque of Damascus, in grandeur and beauty… but thereafter, a series of looting and plundering by Crusaders and others, destroyed its beauty… In the night the entire mosque glowed as an oasis of timelessness in the vastness of ephemeral modernity.

A stone throw away is the famous citadel of Aleppo… there was an atmosphere of festivity surrounding the entire place… due to the music concert that Moinuddin told me about. However, I could sense that even otherwise it is central to the life in Aleppo… the entire area was full of restaurants and cafes… with many of the old buildings having been converted into one… exuding the old worldly charm. The outer wall of the moat that surrounded the citadel was a rendezvous for couples… quite like the Nile corniche in Cairo.

There was something magical in the entire atmosphere; I knew I have come to the right place…….