In Minsk, capital of Belarus- in 2008.  Lenin is one of  Sushama's heros.

An AP news report on elections- fraudulent- as the agency quoted political activists as saying and an article by Mani Shankar Aiyar in Outlook on neighbouring Kazakhstan triggered a flashback of our memorable visit to Belarus. Free from the shadows of their Soviet past, people of this beautiful country now are free but not as free as they would like to be. As reports suggest, tyranny continues in other form.
Culled from my random notes:

From New Delhi  Belarus- Journey from a continent to another. With Sushama. 

Well begun is half done, they say. It has begun well. The kids were ready to drop us at the airport for the late night flight. Bleary eyed, but ready. We decided against. It would have been too taxing for them. Chiku was busy at RMSI whole day. Mickey had bunked the school but was busy as usual.
From the Indian continent to the empire of the Tzars, via the Ottoman Empire. No empire remains now but the thought is exciting!!

Thursday, 17 July 2008

There was, as usual, a long serpentine queue at the check-in counter at the newly done up and swanky IGIL. Flight 1710Q to Istanbul. There didn't seem to be any Turks in the queue. Leave a couple of “Goras” who did not wear Turkish look, they were all Indians. No Turks visit India? Did Turks invade India? The only Turks that popped in the mind was the young Turk of the Indian politics- Chandrashekar- who died old. The Mongols, The Moguls, The Lodhis. Did the Turks come? Umm.....in fact they did. History, in fact, tells us that the present day trouble in Kashmir can be traced to a Turk called Sahamir who was in the employment- an influential noble- of the then Hindu King Sendev. Sahamir rebeled when he was sacked by Sendev’s son Anantdev. Assuming a new name Shamshuddin, Shahamir killed Anantdev and established a Muslim state in Kashmir- the year was 1346 which marked the beginning of Muslim rule in Kashmir.

Meshwa, she said flashing her bright smile that instantly changed the opinion that I had formed a couple of minutes ago that the Turks continued to be what history taught us- rude and crude and all conquering. “Ten”, she said when asked as to how many Turks were there on the flight. “Rest all Indians?”, I asked. They are all going as tourists, Meshwa said as she asked what is your name- Nice meeting you Vijay, she said as she moved to the next row of seats, offering tea or coffee.

Anyway. Whether the Turks conquered India or not- the Indians seemed intent in swarming Turkey. Looking at the rugged terrain that one could see from the aircraft, one could only wonder about how rugged the Ottoman Turks must be conquering the world- traveling through the rocky, inhospitable mountains. The Indians were taking the easy route- traveling by air. Conquering is what matters. Whether it is by air or walking on foot or on horse backs is not that important!

Sushama is all excitement- traveling an international flight after a long long gap. “Pick up some newspapers from the stand, I tell her as we  enter the Turkish Airways Airbus 310. Pick she does- two bulky and one thin newspaper. The two heavier ones-weighing almost half a kg each- are in Turkish. The thinner one is our own Times of India. Sush clicked lots of pictures from the window- of the clouds, mountains, the sea and of me.

17-07-2008 12:10 At Kemal  Attaturk International Airport.

It’s a sprawling airport. Minarets sprouting from the city of Istanbul. Hungry and thirsty, Sushama wants to eat something that is local. ‘Lahmacun’, the was the name give to what looked like a Papad sprinkled with lots of masala with two cutlets like stuffed for accompaniment. The dish was wholesome. It came with lemon and coriander (Sushama says it is not coriander).

The onward flight to Minsk is delayed by ten minutes and as time refuses to tick by at the waiting lounge where everybody seems as tired as us, the gate number has changed from 215 to 201.

At the boarding check we get a taste of the Russian (in)hospitality.  Keep everything in the tray to be cleared by the X-ray machine. Remove your belt too- cameras, wallet. I forget to keep the wallet and the metal detector makes a loud noise. The pretty but stern looking woman officer sends me back- wallet…wallet- the male officer tells me to keep the wallet in the tray. I obey.  Start the laptop, the officer tells Sushama. The machine reluctantly comes to life. Its ok, he says as we are allowed to proceed. Not unexpected- I was in fact prepared for something worse.

No. The Indians are not invading the world. At least not beyond Turkey. If the New Delhi-Istanbul flight was full of Indians, I and Sushama were the only Indians or for that matter from South Asia to head for Minsk. Not even a Sardar. No Mallu. Some Turks, some very very German looking. Some with typical Russian features. The Minsk airport is modern. I like all the airports wherever I go. 

In bus in Minsk with our Belarussian guide

Minsk is not a place that is visited by many people. The Turkish Airline has Boeing 737 which looks tiny aircraft after the Airbus 310 that we flew in from Delhi to Istanbul.

It’s a two hour flight. The body is complaining. The first casualty of any long journey is the stomach. It is the first to rebel. Or may be I am yet to become that ‘international’ so as to take precautions. (What precautions?) The odd times of the flights ensure that you end up seeping a black label or red wine or eating what the airlines may call a breakfast at a time you would normally be sleeping. The body clock goes haywire.
Minsk airport resembles somewhat our own Indira Gandhi International Airport before its renovation. Tiny. One can walk to the customs and immigration clearance. That is what we do. I have not taken their address, I tell Sushama. I took it for granted that someone will comet the airport to pick us up. May be Nandini will come herself, she says, a suggestion I dismiss immediately. Ambassadors’ wives don’t go to airports to receive people, I said as we stood in the queue for immigration clearance. I prefer a queue where a pretty Belarussian girl is manning the counter. Sushama stands in the next line which too is manned by a woman. Both reach the counters almost the same time. The passports are given a careful look. Although a democracy  the atmosphere at the airport gives you a glimpse into how things would have been during the Soviet days. The girls at the counters wear a stern look. A male officer is called as the girl gives a second look to the passport. The officer says something from behind the counter- I tell him I cannot hear- He comes out- where will you stay? The look on his face changes as I say ‘I am the guest of the Ambassador of India’. “Ambassador of India?”. Things move with alacrity after this exchange. Sushama’s passport is cleared first and she is out. Mine takes a little longer as the girl directs me to the same counter that handled Sushama’s passport- an angry looking thin man sporting a beard is annoyed as he required to wait and thrusts his passport only to be told that he has not signed the immigration form.
Permission granted to ‘enter’ Belarus, I move out of the enclosure nursing a weak fear as to what the next step would be if none turns up at the airport to pick us up. Surprise surprise- Nandini is there-  already hugging Sushama. A white man offers to take control of the strolly and the laptop I am carrying which I do- hesitantly- not knowing who he is. Petrovich, he is retired colonel from the Soviet army, I am told, now working as driver with the Indian embassy. There is another woman is with the India House, retired as teacher of English working now as house maid.

Learning Bharat Natyam in Belarus

It’s a clean drive- there is a steady drizzle as the Merc speeds past green fields with little or no traffic. The air is clean. You actually feel that you are breathing- feeling your lungs with an extra dose of unpolluted air.
“Welcome to Belarus!”, RK says on the telephone- take a hot bath and relax- I will be joining you in an hour or so”, he says. The journey has begun- the long overdue holiday- I tell myself as we climb the stairs to be ushered into the bedroom of INDIA HOUSE- in Belarus, Russian Federation- a region I had never set my foot in- the region that was part of the Tzar empire, of wars with the Nazis- of Stalin’s Russia!!! Belarus, a free country in 1991-after Gorbachev’s historic reforms!!

The hosts sent us to Brest- interesting name- a town 325 kms south west from Minsk (Minsk, by the way, is the geographical centre of Belarus.) Belarus itself is at the centre of Europe (Eastern Europe? Or Europe?) on the Belarus-Poland border. Brest still has a 18^th century fortress that the Russians (Soviet days) defended valiantly from the invading Nazis. They fought against the numerically superior fascists, held on to the fort for several months. The story goes that none ran away. Women and children helped reach ammunition to the troops. They bought food risking their lives against the Germans. One of the last surviving officers, a brigadier was caught by the Germans and sent to a concentration camp. Another, seriously wounded was captured. He died s a prisoner.
30-07-2008 16:09

Well, there has been  a big gap between the day the story stopped writing itself. The journey continued and it would have been a crime not to mention the last leg. The distance between Istanbul and Mumbai, the Airbus 310 informed us, was 6000 odd kms, a bit longer than the distance between Delhi and Istanbul from where the journey began on the 17 of July from the IGIL- at 3.40 am.

Coincidence may be. But the flight that brought us back to India from Turkey too landed at 3.40 in the morning.

Coincidence again? But the weather gods have been kind to us right from the day one. It had been raining cats and dogs, it always does, in Mumbai from the last one week. A respite today. It was cloudy but thanks, no rains. The story was the same in Minsk.