Paris Times - I

I made five trips to Paris between 2009 and 2010 when I worked with a company headquartered there. The first was for the interview and rest four were for induction, meetings, and such things.

 

 

 

 

It may not be an exaggeration to say that the word magnificent may fall short to describe the city's beauty; it's simply magical. It's a living example of how the French respect their history and how much they care for what they think stands testimony to the French culture and values.

 

During my early excursions in the vicinity, I was about to collapse in dismay when I bumped into a young Bangladeshi fruit-vendor just outside metro station Motte Picket Gronelle, a few meters away from the service apartment where I was put up. He didn't speak any language other than Bangla. How could he have landed in the centre of one of world’s most sought after city as a fruit-seller? God (only) knows! We have known Bangladeshis to be crossing Indian border frequently. They now seemed to have grown in stature by crossing the continents. I looked around for the French authorities to tender a friendly advice on the Indian experience in the matter.

 

I kept on bumping into that obtrusive Bangladeshi on and off. Once I watched a French Father and daughter duo buying peaches from him and eating them the Indian way (with hands). My eyes chased them for a distance to see whether they dropped the waste the Indian way too (by the wayside). But I must say that they disappointed me.

 

 

During my second trip which was longish and a relaxed one, I thought of checking out India coverage there. Obviously, for the language handicap, I had to opt for the "International Herald Tribune", the global edition of "The New York Times".

 

We generally presumed in those days (we have come a long way in terms of heightened sense of self-confidence in just a decade’s time) that we didn’t belong to this world and hardly expected much attention beyond that was driven commercially, like an ‘emerging market’ etc. At that backdrop, I was pleasantly surprised to notice a few things apart from the news of the regulars like the ‘terrorism hell’ of Kashmir and the ‘tourist paradise’ of Goa. There was an impressive article by Tim Sebastian (Chairman of the Doha Debates), titled "India's Disjointed Prosperity" that evaluated the economic growth of Modern India critically, with clear understanding of the multidimensional challenges she is facing. Hats off to these westerners whose penetrating eyes can always pick up the right things, from what we believe to be chaos! The best part however was to spot our own Prakash restaurant (Shivaji Park, Mumbai) in one of the issues, accompanied by mouth-watering descriptions of their famous fare of Sabudanawada, Misal and Piyush.

 

Discovery of India was on, and the discoveries lived upto the expectations. Just like the ubiquitous China Town, the Little India is present in Paris too. When I roamed that remote district of La Chapelle, I was constantly encountered by Tamil conversations on the street. For a moment I imagined myself to be in Chennai or Madurai; but the nice, cool Parisian breeze brought me back to my senses. Right Chettinadu to Karaikal cuisine serving restaurants lined the pavements. I even found one "Singapore Stores" owned by a Sri Lankan family (Tamils in exile, you guessed it right) selling everything Indian. Some Pakistanis reportedly operate their restaurants under Indian label. A few Tibetans (ever in exile) can also be found there to complete the map of the south Asian neighbourhood.

 

 

 

 

I met a privileged Pondicherryian called Raja there enjoying his dual nationality status, running a "pur" vegetarian ‘Ganesha’ restaurant, and received a complete download on the local India perspective from him. Also got an opportunity to interact with a Malaysian (yes, Tamil again) of Indian origin, who's happily settling in the French corporate world and who filled me up with the nuances of the socio-political scene in the "Islamic Republic of Malaysia".

 

I made it a point not to miss the thali at Krishna Bhuwan, a vegetarian joint in the little India of La Chapelle. Nine out of ten faces there were local French, enjoying the Indian (Tamil) spicy food. Before moving out, I casually flipped through some pamphlets kept near the counter and got a shock of my life. The same owners ran another restaurant by the name Gandhi (inspired by Mohandas Karamchand, of course) across the street, specialising in chicken biryanis and mutton curries. Poor Gandhi, who promoted vegetarianism even in London while studying, it was a bit too much for a fellow Indian to sell meaty recipes under his name, I thought. By the way, the name Gandhi really sells, doesn't it? The ubiquitous Yoga business also seemed to be doing well in Paris, as I noticed a few pamphlets to that effect.

 

Another surprise lay there for me when a bunch of Tamil youths handed me a handbill, promoting an Indian astrologer, printed in Tamil, English and Hindi. I read the Hindi and English versions carefully. While the Hindi used was chaste and perfect, the poor grammar and construction of the English text could put anybody off. It left me wondering whether the Tamils had taken to Hindi outside India!

 

As my service apartment was hardly half a kilometre away from the iconic Eifel Tower or even lesser than that, my walks around that place were frequent. I had noticed quite a few Indian hawkers, coming from rural Punjab, hawking miniature replica of the Tower, some of whom could be clean-shaven Sikhs. The rest of them were blacks. I couldn't believe my ears during one of my walks there, when one black hawker greeted me with "Sat Shri Akal" on the street leading to the Tower. I looked in astonishment. He smiled and said it once more. I reciprocated promptly. Was I happy? Sure, I was, as he recognised me as an Indian, though he obviously did not know about India beyond that. It didn't matter to him or even me whether I was a Sikh or not.