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 The
only visit I have made to Paris so far was on Dec.1,1978. My husband
was on a WHO fellowship at the Institute of Psychiatry, London. I was
on a British Council short visitorship and visiting institutions,
generally enjoying England and the hope to visit Paris was on my
agenda. I have always been charmed by Paris. In my childhood I dreamt
of living in Paris, walking casually in the streets and thinking it
was home. Even today, I will give anything to get a posting in Paris.
However, at that time Paris looked like a distant dream with the
meagre scholarship we were on.
For me Paris has been the epitome of everything I
liked: the arts, philosophy, revolutions, fashions, designs, museums,
beauty, grace, wines, writers, city, monuments, West bank, East bank,
old bookshops, cafes, pavement artists, spiced sausages, tangy
cheese, chocolate crepes, cancan dancers and Gypsy fire-eaters. I
wanted to breathe the air, lounge about in parks, sit by the river
and see the boats go by and hear the bells of Notre Dam Cathedral. I
wanted to breathe the air Somerset Maugham, Victor Hugo, Sartre and
Camus breathed, tread the paths they trod and sit in the pubs and
parks where they drank and sat (hopefully sit on the same bench).
My husband's birthday was falling on December 3 and we decided to
spend it in Paris. The weather was very cold and Europe was writhing
under a severe winter. We managed to get cheap tickets (by train and
boat) to Paris. We were to start from King's Cross station in London
and go to Dover by British Rail, from Dover to Calais by ferry across
the English Channel, and from Calais to Paris by the French Railways.
The return tickets cost only 30 pounds and enabled us a maximum stay
of four days between Thursday and Monday.
It was really inexpensive. We had managed to save up a little money
for the trip and the French Institute of Psychiatry had arranged a
small room for us at an international hostel (which was neat and nice
and very much in the heart of the town) at 65 francs a day (one franc
being equivalent to Rs.4 at that time). We took the train from King's
Cross to Dover in the evening. At Dover we had to go through French
Customs and then we found ourselves in the ferry. It was very
exciting. We found a place on the side overlooking the sea. We sat
close, holding hands, and shared the excitement of seeing a boat of
this type for the first time. There were several restaurants on the
boat and we went to get ourselves a bite. We had burgers and French
fries and of course plenty of Coke with plenty of ice.
In fact I was a great Coco-Cola fan and always drank my Coke on rocks.
I have been drinking it since I was a little girl when a bottle cost
only four annas, equal to 25 paise. When I was in high school it was
eight annas, equal to 50 paise (those were the days before the metric
system was introduced in India. A rupee was =16 annas and one anna was
= four paise and one paisa was = three pais. In a nutshell one rupee
was 64 paise and not 100 paise and it made arithmetic a lot more
difficult for us). When I went to the University the good old Coke
sold at 75 paise and when I started my first job it was one rupee.
During the summer in Delhi I used to drink up to ten bottles and in
winter at least four.
During the previous year, for reasons best known to him, George
Fernandes, as Union Minister, had got Coke not only banned but
banished from India, which had come as a great blow to addicts like
me. He also introduced a Coke substitute drink called 'Double Seven'
or 77 (since it was launched in the year 1977) but it was not the same
thing. After some time another drink came on the scene called 'Thumbs
Up' which tasted to me better than 77. This was followed by a whole
lot of spurious cola drinks, with awful tastes and names like Kali
Cola in different rural parts of the country.
Those days one of the reasons one would like to go abroad was to drink
Coca-Cola. In fact as soon as we had landed at the Heathrow Airport on
October 2,1978, we celebrated by opening a can of Coca-Cola. In
today's age of liberalisation and globalisation the whole thing sounds
so silly. The best thing is that Coke and Pepsi both are back in India
and George Fernandes, the Cabinet Minister, has not even batted an
eyelid. As we were eating and drinking, the whole centre space of the
boat was suddenly filled up by a large party of bagpipers and Scottish
men and women in native dress. They were on a short holiday to Paris
and wanted to make it as enjoyable as possible for everyone. Scotland
boasts many proud Highland clans like, Mackenzie, McDonnell, Macintosh
and so on. Every clan has its own kilt designed in a woollen check
fabric; the design of which is unique to each clan. By looking at the
dress of a clan's man you can recognise him. The group on board
belonged to the Mackenzie clan.
Soon the bagpipers started piping and Mackenzie couples began a dance
to the tune of the beautiful folk music of Scotland. Everyone was
drawn into the festivities. Like a 'Mid Winter Night's Dream' we found
ourselves in an enchanted world of Highlanders. The dancing and music
on the boat continued, till the wee hours of morning and till we
reached Calais.
(Continued next week) | Part 2
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