In stead of hiring a cab, we decided to return to our hotel on foot. It was a fitting proposition, as the path to our hotel from the conference venue went by the side of the river Nile. We came to Cairo two days before for attending a conference. In our team, myself and Partha (Bhowmick) were the two delegates. Jhuma and Bittu were the other two members with the sole purpose of tourism. The conference was being held in the Hotel Grand Hyatt and it happened to be the very first day of its proceedings. We came there quite early in the morning and registered ourselves. The day before, we had a tour of famous pyramids of Giza and Sakkara. In Giza we scaled the walls of two great pyramids of early Pharaohs Khufu and Khafra, and even made an entry into a deep narrow passage of the latter, which led us to the burial place of the king. But what was most thrilling to me, was the sight of a large step pyramid (of Pharaoh Djoser) at Sakkara, probably the oldest man made structure of this planet still casting its shadow in the desert sand.
As our presentations were in the afternoon, we had planned for going back to our hotel after the morning session. Our hotel was roughly at a distance of two kilometers from the conference venue. We wanted to have our lunch at a near-by market place, so that after the lunch, Jhuma and Bittu would take rest in our hotel, while both of us would join the conference to attend our sessions. The registration desk of the conference was in the third floor in a gorgeous hotel lobby. Both of our non-delegates waited patiently for the completion of our registration formalities. We also attended a session of our choice, which prolonged their meditation. However, for anyone waiting in that lobby was not so unworthy. The hotel was situated on the bank of the river. The lobby provided a panoramic view of the city across the river through its wide glass panels. Underneath the serene beauty of picturesque blue river with white boats scattered across kept us captivated and animated. It reminded me of my childhood metaphor and romanticism with the name ‘Neel Nad’ (The blue river) in my own language.
When we came out from Hyatt, we still had an hour and a half left to finish our lunch. That was the reason why we took a leisurely stroll by the river side, even though the sun was beginning to get hot. There was nice breeze blowing from the river and at places there were wooden benches under the cool shadow of large trees. We had no hurry. We took a few shots in our cameras and rested for a while on benches under shades. Eventually we came near to a place where the trail went below a bridge. This was the bridge whose view we had from our hotel room. Our room was in the seventeenth floor of a very old building. The bridge was connected by flyovers in different directions. The principal one met the junction at Tahrir Square, which was close to our hotel. Mentally I had mapped our neighborhood into two partitions made by this bridge. At its one side situated some of our places of interest such as, our hotel Iris, Egyptian Museum, the conference venue Hyatt, etc. The other side remained as an unexplored zone of mystery to me. So instead of marching forward and crossing the bridge, we took a diversion at our right side. We were expecting to find a known landmark, which should guide our route to our hotel. However, after crossing the road and moving a few steps ahead, we reached a junction of confusion. At this junction, the roads went topsy-turvy in all directions. We wanted to go near the Egyptian museum, from where we could easily locate Iris. But, it was not clear to us which direction we should follow from there. The rough road map, what I downloaded from the net, became useless to resolve our dilemma. Fortunately we found two policemen in front of a palatial building. So we sought their help. But they feigned ignorance of English and pointed to a person, who was standing near them. He was a middle aged person, a little round in shape, bald-headed and of short height. He appeared to be a polished gentleman wearing a grey suit and a tie. He came forward and listened to our query. Then he spoke in broken Arabic pronunciation, “Egyptian Museum! You want to visit. This side.” He made a half gesture pointing across the street. In that direction, a sidewalk mysteriously disappeared by taking a sudden turn. Before moving forward, we wanted to make sure whether we understood him properly. Probably our states of perplexity on such a simple matter aroused his interest on us. So he asked gently, “Are you Indians?” On receiving our confirmation, he appeared to be elated, “I have a friend in India. He lives in Bombay. He is a doctor”. Then he introduced himself, “I am also a doctor. But doctor of botany. I work in this building. It is the US Embassy,” he pointed towards the stately building. Though I had the curiosity of knowing what kind of job a doctor of botany was doing at the embassy, I preferred to restrain myself and we were about to move forward in the direction he showed us. But, he was not finished yet, “What are you doing here?” We informed him that we came here to attend a conference. “Oh! Conference! I too had a conference in India. Last year. Are you planning to visit the Egyptian museum?” he wanted to know.
I replied, “Definitely.”
“But my friend, this is not the time for you to visit the museum? Now it is only ten thirty.” He looked at his watch and said, “Now it is the time for groups. Are you in a group?” We had to accept that such a small number might not have the quorum to form a group. He went on elaborating, “The morning time, from nine to twelve is group time. You are normal tourists. Normal tourists enter after that.” This was news to us. I planned our program from various tips and suggestions from the internet. But nowhere this constraint was discussed. We did plan for visiting Egyptian museum next day in early hours. So I got vividly irritated by this annoying piece of information. He seemed to feel guilty by upsetting us and tried to console us, “Still you have plenty of time. Why don’t you go to the city center and do shopping?” I considered the proposition. Our friend wrongly assumed our intent of moving around. We had no plan for visiting the museum on that day. We wanted to have our lunch then. So a city center would be the right place where we might go, on our way back to hotel.
I asked, “Is it nearby?”
“Oh yes. Let me show you the way.” He was eager to help us. I looked at others for their approval. All of them felt the same way. Indeed we had to look for a place to eat.
He led us through a path, opposite to the direction he pointed before. It went downward by the side of the embassy. He kept on talking, “I am actually a florist. Do you know who a florist is?” He stopped a while and then continued, “I do research on flowers.” I had to acknowledge his fits with a sound of appreciation and amazement. As he was talking, he was bubbling over with excitement. He asked again, “In which hotel your conference is held?”
I answered, “Hotel Grand Hyatt.”
“Ah! Hotel Hyatt,” he got excited again, “My Sister is going to marry in Hotel Sheraton”
“When?” I asked.
“Oh! After two days! What a great party it would be!” he loudly boasted. I had to congratulate him on such a happy proposition.
I asked him, “How far is the city center?”
“Just ahead of us. I am taking you there.” he assured us. Then after a while he asked again, “Do you know Bedouin?”
He waited a few moments for our reply. I simply smiled at him. He declared at the top of his exaltation, “I am a Bedouin. My family came from the deserts of Sahara.” I was amused at the sight of such a modern day Bedouin, suited-booted without the conventional robe and hood, as we used to think of anyone but a Bedouin. Finally, we came down to a street. At the turn of the street our friend extended his warm invitation, “Come my dear friends! Please come to my chamber. I would like to give you my visiting cards.” He led us to a souvenir shop. There was a woman in her twenties with a headscarf worn around. He introduced her, “Meet my sister! It was her marriage, I was talking about.” The woman appeared to be greatly discomforted by his brotherly affection and declaration of her marriage to strangers like us. She retracted herself against souvenir-racks to make a space for our entry. I was also greatly relieved with the realization that the next day we could start early for visiting the Egyptian museum. Our friend offered us chairs to sit, “Please be comfortable and have seats. I will show my collections to you.” Partha and Jhuma still remained standing. They had no intention of sticking to that place. They were signaling me to leave the shop. But from such an interesting person, it was hard for me to make an abrupt departure. So I took a seat. Bittu also did the same. Probably he was looking for it as he seemed to be tired of walking. Our host offered us drinks, which we politely declined. Then the florist wanted to show us his products of research, the Egyptian perfumes from different herbs and flowers. We expressed our gratitude to him for his good intention of showing us his valuable items, but regretted our unpreparedness to buy any of them at that moment. He was disappointed but did not plead further. He also appeared to be a bit exhausted as a consequence of his concocted excited states by assuming so many roles within such a short duration. So at last, our botanist cum florist cum Bedouin friend withdrew himself from all his self-reincarnations. He wished us good luck and shook my hand to bid goodbye.
21/9/11
