Reminiscence from Anatolia- Part One: The Last Day
It was the last day of my stay in Turkey… tonight, I had a flight from Istanbul to Kabul… and here I was in the Eastern-most border of Turkey, in Kars… I had a flight to catch to Istanbul in the afternoon time.
I woke up at around five in the morning… parted the curtains of my room and looked around… no snowfall and an overcast sky… this means that the day would remain overcast throughout… you keep learning these wisdoms along the road… a night of snowfall generally means a sunny day… and no snowfall and an overcast sky… offers you a gloomy day ahead…
The last few days had given me another horizon to grow. Man, it appears grows gradually, but the path of growth is not a smooth curve but a series of small inflexions, coming at regular intervals. For some… life is all about experiencing the same thing many times over… and for some… life is all about experiencing new things, intermittently… Fortunately, I had been following the second path.
I left my bed and put on my clothes… it was time for one last walk around the city… I also packed my backpack… as I was supposed to leave the room by 9 am…. And then I set out for a walk…
Kars is an impressive city… full of vintage buildings of Soviet era… when for a few decades it was under Soviet occupation… it is an interesting activity to just walk around aimlessly and see the distinct Soviet architectural nature of the city…
Kars was one of the frontier cities during the First World War… no wonder that all around the city you find a number of go-downs and underground cellar… which were used to take refuges during hostile bombings… Soviet, Turkish, Allied Forces… every type of bombings… Today, these cellars are used as storages… in the morning, when shop-owners are opening these cellars; you get an opportunity to look inside them. They are spacious, often having shelves- indicating that they were meant for long stays- and sometimes, more than one compartment- indicating that they could be used by a family, and sometimes, a few families… it transports you to the tragedy of the world wars…
I walked down to the streets… practicing the art of walking on snow… which was taught by a person, yesterday… on how you need to walk with your legs further apart than your normal posture of walking… this extra partition gives your body an extra dose of equilibrium… which in turns helps you in walking without slipping.
I went hungry, yesterday evening… so by 8 am, I felt a huge hunger pang… I went straight to the shop, where I had my lunch… yesterday… the owner had become a friend of mine… I had taken a number of photographs of him and his friends… laughed and chatted with him… he in Kurmanji Kurdish… and I speaking in Persian… by this time, I had started understanding the expressions… if not the language… it happens, when you travel… the language of love and empathy, it seems… is one.
I had yet another Tavuk Doner (chicken sandwich), and a glass of Ayran (salted yoghurt)… my staple food for last few days… while I was having it, my friend’s father entered the shop… he was pleased to see me… apparently, his son had told him about me… he was seeing a Hindistani (and not Hindustani) for the first time… he, as opposed to his son, knew Persian… therefore, I could engage in more meaningful conversation with him… he asked me a number of question about India… and about how they perceive it as a growing power, even in far flung Kars… for sure, Indian footprints are making significant forays…
It was about 9 am… I got back… vacated the room and placed my backpack and sleeping bag in the reception of the hotel… there were a few more errands to complete… before I took the 1130 Turkish Airlines shuttle to the airport.
I went to the nearby shop… whose owner had become a good friend of mine… yesterday… when I went to his shop to purchase a bottle of water… he didn’t know much about Hindistan… but had a good friend from Bangladesh, years ago… when he used to live in Marmaris. For him, I represented his friend… he hugged me, when he realized that I am leaving forever… urged me to have one last cup of Turkish tea with him…. And then while parting, he said something in Turkish… it didn’t take me a lot of effort to realize that he was telling me to come and see him… when I again come to Kars. As I said- Love and Empathy have a universal language.
While I was coming back from his shop, I actually had a teardrop in my eyes… love is the only thing that chains this pondering vagabond… family, friends… or these strangers in far flung lands.
The flight was uneventful… I sat next to a very pretty Turk girl… I was sitting on the aisle and she on the window side. I couldn’t strike a conversation with her, thinking she didn’t know English… when we reached Istanbul… it appeared that it was raining… I asked her casually- is it raining? She smiled and replied- Yes, it is … a golden opportunity lost.
Sitting in the airplane… waiting for the flight to Kabul (which to my amazement was before time… Ariana Airways is actually not that bad)... and while I was on my flight to Kabul (where I noticed that the one of the Afghan Airways Airhostesses was perhaps one of the most beautiful girls I had seen in last few days… Afghans are a very beautiful race, I must say)… I kept thinking about the last few days…
These last days were again… a step towards my further evolution. Every travel has given me a new horizon to grow… a new paradigm to think… whether in Konkan… on in Levant… or the Western Desert… or the rural Bengal… or the Sinai.
I was thinking about the days gone by… a journey… which started from a distant place called Kandahar… where people struggle to live, everyday… where I conjured up this saga… I knew it would again be the journey of the life time.
I woke up at around five in the morning… parted the curtains of my room and looked around… no snowfall and an overcast sky… this means that the day would remain overcast throughout… you keep learning these wisdoms along the road… a night of snowfall generally means a sunny day… and no snowfall and an overcast sky… offers you a gloomy day ahead…
The last few days had given me another horizon to grow. Man, it appears grows gradually, but the path of growth is not a smooth curve but a series of small inflexions, coming at regular intervals. For some… life is all about experiencing the same thing many times over… and for some… life is all about experiencing new things, intermittently… Fortunately, I had been following the second path.
I left my bed and put on my clothes… it was time for one last walk around the city… I also packed my backpack… as I was supposed to leave the room by 9 am…. And then I set out for a walk…
Kars is an impressive city… full of vintage buildings of Soviet era… when for a few decades it was under Soviet occupation… it is an interesting activity to just walk around aimlessly and see the distinct Soviet architectural nature of the city…
Kars was one of the frontier cities during the First World War… no wonder that all around the city you find a number of go-downs and underground cellar… which were used to take refuges during hostile bombings… Soviet, Turkish, Allied Forces… every type of bombings… Today, these cellars are used as storages… in the morning, when shop-owners are opening these cellars; you get an opportunity to look inside them. They are spacious, often having shelves- indicating that they were meant for long stays- and sometimes, more than one compartment- indicating that they could be used by a family, and sometimes, a few families… it transports you to the tragedy of the world wars…
I walked down to the streets… practicing the art of walking on snow… which was taught by a person, yesterday… on how you need to walk with your legs further apart than your normal posture of walking… this extra partition gives your body an extra dose of equilibrium… which in turns helps you in walking without slipping.
I went hungry, yesterday evening… so by 8 am, I felt a huge hunger pang… I went straight to the shop, where I had my lunch… yesterday… the owner had become a friend of mine… I had taken a number of photographs of him and his friends… laughed and chatted with him… he in Kurmanji Kurdish… and I speaking in Persian… by this time, I had started understanding the expressions… if not the language… it happens, when you travel… the language of love and empathy, it seems… is one.
I had yet another Tavuk Doner (chicken sandwich), and a glass of Ayran (salted yoghurt)… my staple food for last few days… while I was having it, my friend’s father entered the shop… he was pleased to see me… apparently, his son had told him about me… he was seeing a Hindistani (and not Hindustani) for the first time… he, as opposed to his son, knew Persian… therefore, I could engage in more meaningful conversation with him… he asked me a number of question about India… and about how they perceive it as a growing power, even in far flung Kars… for sure, Indian footprints are making significant forays…
It was about 9 am… I got back… vacated the room and placed my backpack and sleeping bag in the reception of the hotel… there were a few more errands to complete… before I took the 1130 Turkish Airlines shuttle to the airport.
I went to the nearby shop… whose owner had become a good friend of mine… yesterday… when I went to his shop to purchase a bottle of water… he didn’t know much about Hindistan… but had a good friend from Bangladesh, years ago… when he used to live in Marmaris. For him, I represented his friend… he hugged me, when he realized that I am leaving forever… urged me to have one last cup of Turkish tea with him…. And then while parting, he said something in Turkish… it didn’t take me a lot of effort to realize that he was telling me to come and see him… when I again come to Kars. As I said- Love and Empathy have a universal language.
While I was coming back from his shop, I actually had a teardrop in my eyes… love is the only thing that chains this pondering vagabond… family, friends… or these strangers in far flung lands.
The flight was uneventful… I sat next to a very pretty Turk girl… I was sitting on the aisle and she on the window side. I couldn’t strike a conversation with her, thinking she didn’t know English… when we reached Istanbul… it appeared that it was raining… I asked her casually- is it raining? She smiled and replied- Yes, it is … a golden opportunity lost.
Sitting in the airplane… waiting for the flight to Kabul (which to my amazement was before time… Ariana Airways is actually not that bad)... and while I was on my flight to Kabul (where I noticed that the one of the Afghan Airways Airhostesses was perhaps one of the most beautiful girls I had seen in last few days… Afghans are a very beautiful race, I must say)… I kept thinking about the last few days…
These last days were again… a step towards my further evolution. Every travel has given me a new horizon to grow… a new paradigm to think… whether in Konkan… on in Levant… or the Western Desert… or the rural Bengal… or the Sinai.
I was thinking about the days gone by… a journey… which started from a distant place called Kandahar… where people struggle to live, everyday… where I conjured up this saga… I knew it would again be the journey of the life time.
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