Namaste! Raj Kapoor

 After almost 6 weeks off and on in Turkey and travelling to the earthquake affected cities, I finally decided I needed a break. That’s when I landed in this quaint little city of Tbilisi, Georgia.

When my travel agent suggested either Yerevan in Armenia or Tbilisi in Georgia as a quick get-away trip from Istanbul, I picked Tbilisi, not just because the name is so quirky, but I also saw some beautiful picture postcard worthy Cathedrals and many heritage buildings with rivers crisscrossing the city. The Turkish Airlines flight landed on time at the Shota Rustaveli Tbilisi International Airport and thus started my quick three day tour of Tbilisi.

Day 1 – the taxi ride: In any foreign country, your first point of contact usually is the cab driver. In Tbilisi, my cab driver was waiting with my full name (surname spelt correctly) and ushered me into the ubiquitous Toyota Prius taxi. As soon I settled down, he smiled at me and said Namaste! Raj Kapoor.  I smiled back at him and said ‘yes, Raj Kapoor great actor’.  Though I admired that he remembered the celebrated doyen of Hindi cinema, Raj Kapoor, secretly I was sulking that it had betrayed my age. Perhaps I should have responded sounding more youthful, ‘did you mean Ranbir Kapoor?’

I was actually in a good mood, otherwise I would have reacted strongly when cab drivers or shop-keepers and tourist guides address me with Namaste. I would respond with Vanakkam and subject them to a harangue on how Hindi is not the only language spoken by everyone in India. Once in Kampala airport, as I was walking towards the green channel after clearing immigration, a customs officer greeted me with a Namaste and I immediately retorted that I don’t speak Hindi. She was taken aback by this unexpected outburst. I moved away quickly before she could book me for any customs (pun not intended) violation.

As the taxi made its way to my hotel moving slowly in the evening rush hour,  the cabby started giving me a ‘free’ guided tour. He pointed out to the many terracotta brown tinted tiled houses and said this is the Armenian part of the old city. Tbilisi indeed has a rich Armenian heritage and I made a mental note to visit this part later. Next, he drove through the narrow Shardeni Street, chock-a-block with restaurants, bars and night clubs. Watching me from the corner of his eye while still focussed on his driving, he rhetorically asked if I travelled single and said that there are a plethora of night clubs everywhere - if I ever wanted some late night action. I avoided his eye this time and peered through the slightly foggy window. Forget night clubs, Shardeni Street with the number of Indian (read North Indian) restaurants, had more of a Connaught Circus vibe– missed seeing namma Saravana Bhavan though.

As we got on to the broader roads and the modern bustling city centre, I could recognise Freedom Square with it’s tall granite column and the statue of St. George slaying the Dragon atop. For a brief moment, I looked at the statue from the dragon’s POV– it looked like an uneven fight -with the hapless dragon being trampled under the powerful horse’s hooves and the spear piercing right through its gaping mouth and all this time St. George was mounted safely high above with all the glistening armour in bronze and gold. Maybe it’s centuries old form of Jallikattu ?
 
Soon after, we passed the famous David the Builder statue– astride a similar stallion – at least he’s not slaying any dragons. Further down that street we reached my hotel. I thanked the driver and gave him the forty Georgian Lari or GEL as agreed. After collecting it, he gave the dangerous grin that taxi drivers give when they are about to charge you more. Still grinning, he said “Armenian town, Shardeni Street, freedom square” ..he dragged on– referring to the unsolicited guided tour he gave. Realising his angle, I muttered under my breath - “you did not count the airport in your tour”.  As I was still in my best behaviour tourist mode, I agreed to shell out thirty additional Lari he demanded. He thanked me profusely and left still grinning. I made a mental note that next time, I should be wary when a taxi driver greeted me with Namaste and added a well known old Hindi actor...   

Few moments later inside my room, much to my chagrin, I read in the hotel brochure that the Freedom Square tour is Free!  

Day 2 The Hop on Hop off Bus tour: I signed up for a HOHO bus. But much to my disappointment, the open top was covered with thick plastic sheet defeating the very purpose of an open top bus. Before, I could protest, the bus started with a jerk. The guide turned towards the five of us sitting on the top deck and in her thick Russian accent asked if we understand English. The Telugu couple including their iPhone touting brats were not amused at all as they said firmly yes. But soon I realised, the guide meant if we could understand her Russian English.

Straining to take some photos through the unwieldy rods running across the windows, I barely could hear what the guide was rambling about.  At the same time, I could not avoid hearing loud and clear the Telugu banter from the Indian family.  Politely declining the free Georgian Chacha offered by the guide, I got down the bus at the Rike Park stop leaving the Telugu couple arguing about downing free Chacha by the gallons. Having done the mandatory cable car ride all the way up to the Narikala Fortress, I took some selfies and picked up some souvenirs from the pop-ups all around the cable car station.

Day 3, Trip to the Mountains: after the not-so-open-top bus tour previously, I decided to take a taxi ride to the attractions outside the city centre. The helpful hotel receptionist said for all tours, I should first go to the city centre. I reached city centre and walked around Freedom Square avoiding the attractive, brightly dressed tourist guides thrusting colourful brochures and nudging me towards the many hole in the wall ‘travel agencies’- to me, it screamed expensive, over-priced tours.

I walked further down and sighted an old man standing next to a beaten grey Mercedes – perhaps older than him. Draped around the car was a colourful banner of all the popular sights you may want to see in Tbilisi. I admired his ingenious advertisement and approached him.  He looked up from the news paper he was reading and said Hola! (not Namaste, Gracias)

I pointed to two of the four pictures of imposing Cathedrals and monuments and asked how much. He quoted a very affordable price and we agreed. Surprised that I agreed so quickly, he added showing the other two pictures in the banner and quoted an all inclusive price. I said no weakly and mumbled it's too expensive and I don't have time to visit all the sights. Without further negotiation, we settled down for the tour. He promptly folded the banner neatly and placed it in the boot. Once, he took the seat behind the wheel the old driver, pulled out and donned a black cap and transformed himself into a F1 driver. Belying his age, he soon had the rickety Mercedes at his mercy, with the wheels screeching in protest.

As we approached the scenic highway leading up to the mountains, I could see the monastery on top of the mountains. Meanwhile, Senior Schumacher had negotiated the twists and turns of the hilly track in quick time and parked it under the shade of a clutch of trees and gestured me towards the flight of stone stairs leading to the ancient monastery.   The moment, I opened the door of the car and stepped out, the chilly wind hit me through the thin cotton shirt I was wearing and I realised my mistake immediately. It was a beautiful sunny day when I left the hotel. For me, despite my many international travels and sojourns in colder climes, sunshine always meant warmer weather. So, very casually, I left my winter jacket back in my room without a second thought thinking: “who needs a jacket in this sunny warm weather”  

Now standing at the foot of the lengthy flight of stairs and looking up at the beautiful monastery and the breathtaking scenery all around, the afternoon sun is still shining the brightest, but with the chilly mountain air, the balmy 13 degrees Celsius had transported me to Siberian winter and I was caught without proper winter reinforcement.

Instead of the winter jacket, I decided to wear my new pink formal full sleeved shirt – as it was not worn since the day I had landed in much colder Istanbul and other parts of Turkey in February. Also, in all my other selfies I had taken, I was dressed up in all black, zipped up to my chin. I was determined that this time I should show off my colourful holiday version of me. Alas! It proved to be such a blunder. Braving the cold wind and the colder stares of other Indian families suited up in fleece and leather jackets apparently over my choice of clothes for this weather, I went ahead and took some brave selfies with me in the pink shirt. Dear readers, if you see some very shaky photos of the Jvari Monastery, or the gigantic columns of the Chronicles of Georgia -it’s likely the pink shirt effect.  

Still rubbing my hands vigorously together to warm me up, got into the taxi. Fortunately for me, the rest of the day’s tour was on flatter terrain and the outside temperature rose to a steady 21 degree Celsius and finally I breathed easy. Taking in the beauty of the bright LED lights on the Bridge of Peace and the beautiful shimmering reflections on the Kura river, I finished the tour and paid the taxi driver the amount for the full tour he had asked for without further bargaining.

I hailed another taxi to take me back to my hotel. As soon I settled on to the front seat and buckled my seat belt, the driver turned to me, gave a broad smile and said Namaste! Mithun Chakraborty.