Please checkout Sukumar’s most previous serving of Paris here.

Say “Paris” and images of the French Revolution, the excesses of King Louis XIV and Napoleon Bonaparte spring to mind. Visitors to Paris will find “Haussmannian Paris” stickier still. Baron Haussmann was a town planner in Emperor Napoleon III’s reign. He almost single-handedly modernized Paris, changing it from a medieval town with narrow, chaotic streets & unsanitary living conditions – to a triumph of modern urban planning. He gave Paris a major make-over, with wide boulevards, geometrically intersecting streets, parks, bridges, modern sewers, water-works, wide open spaces – and beautiful buildings, with uniform facades, built with locally quarried limestone. Numerous buildings from Haussmann’s period are impeccably maintained.

Arguably, the most touching site we visited was the Shoah (Holocaust) Memorial, located in the Jewish Quarter in Le Marais. During WW II, almost 76,000 French Jews were rounded up & sent to Nazi concentration camps. Even the children & the elderly were not spared. Only 2,600 of them returned. The French police maintained detailed records of Jews – even those of their colleagues in the Police force. The shameful part played by the Vichy regime in the annihilation of its own citizens was not disclosed till 1995.

The most poignant parts of the Shoah Memorial are the Crypt & the “Wall of Names”. The names of people who died – and those presumed dead – in the concentration camps are engraved on the wall, alphabetized. I would strongly advise the sensitive & the weak-hearted to stay away from the wall. It was very painful, like being knifed in the stomach. The grim black crypt in the basement is shaped like the Star of David. It has ashes collected from the Warsaw ghetto. It is a reminder of the devil in all of us & how easy it is to lead us astray. All it takes is a mad-man with a cause.

I feel duty-bound to tell you that the 2 major shopping destinations in Paris – Au Printemps and Galeries Lafayette offer a 10% discount for all foreign tourists. Carry your passport to prove your domicile though. Here is the disclaimer: There are no tales of personal triumph from me, in clinching deals in either of the malls. France is very expensive. An intelligent South Asian would simply go to the Takashimaya store in Singapore for good deals. Or if the said smart South Asian is in North America, s/he is better off looking for steals in Canada or in the US of A. I’m thrifty by nature – I demand value for money. If you insist on splurging in France on over-priced items, go ahead. I won’t stop you.

One of the most enduring symbols of Paris is the Arc de Triomphe, with its “Tomb of the Unknown Soldier”. This monument is located at one end of the Champs Elysees, one of the most expensive avenues in the world. The largest Louis Vuitton store is located here, for e.g. Champs Elysees is sort of New York’s 5^th Avenue & Times Square rolled into one. Here is where Parisians get together to welcome the New Year on Dec 31^st.

Some of the snootiest shops in Paris – jewelers such as Boucheron, Van Cleef & Arpels, Cartier et al – are in PlaceVendôme. It is in the 1^st arrondisement, the oldest part of Paris. In the center of this square is a monument erected by Napoleon – it stands sad & lonely like a gawky, self-conscious giant, amidst its glitzy & glamorous neighbors. Directly opposite the monument is the Ritz, one of the most luxurious (read: expensive) hotels in the world. I don’t even want to know their tariffs.

The 2^nd most formidable street in Paris is Rue du Faubourg Saint Honore. Perhaps it is no coincidence that this is close to Place Vendôme. All the leading designers such as Hermes, Versace, Gaultier & co have their flagship stores here. The most famous resident of this street is the French President: The Elysee Palace, the official residence of the Premier is located here.

Which brings us to the most interesting President France has had in a long time. Nicholas Sarkozy is the son of Hungarian immigrants. Well, his father was a Hungarian aristocrat who moved to Paris. Did the French have any concern about electing someone of Hungarian descent? And his wife Carla Bruni is an Italian, though she’s a French citizen now. Does the fact that the 1^st lady of France is an Italian bother the French?

Our questions were met with bafflement. How does it matter that Sarkozy is ethnically a Magyar? – They wondered. Or that Bruni was an Italian once. All that matters is that they’re French now, n’est-ce pas? Excellent, we said meekly. We felt like hugging them & giving them an air-kiss, French-style.

An often overlooked site in Paris is the Pantheon. It was built as a church, but it is known more as a crypt & for its starring role in a scientific pursuit: Foucault hung his pendulum from its dome to prove that earth rotated on its axis. A replica of the revered Foucault’s pendulum still oscillates in the Pantheon. The Who’s Who of French elite are buried in the crypt – For e.g., Voltaire, Rousseau, Emile Zola, Alexandre Dumas, Victor Hugo, Pierre & Marie Curie and Joseph-Louis Lagrange. We perked up when we saw Lagrange’s tomb. Amidst a sea of philosophers, writers & politicians, the mathematician-astronomer seemed like a kindred spirit to yours truly, both engineers by profession. We touched his tomb with awe & reverence.

While we loved the French for their open, liberal attitude and for preserving their heritage, they sometimes – many times – drove the author of this post crazy. I must have been a German in my previous life. Punctuality is my affliction. I may need therapy if I’m seriously late for an appointment. I plan & schedule even the minutiae, like Armageddon was tomorrow. And in France, time is elastic, stretchable. They don’t think anything about 30 minute delays. I did not expect this in a 1^st world country. Please hold my paws, I get emotional just thinking about it.

I don’t know how the Germans occupied this country for any stretch of time. Technically speaking, they should have gone mad in a week. Tearing their hair & clothes, they should have run amok on the streets. But it took the Allied Forces landing on Normandy to drive them out. Hmmm – I’ll never understand it.

Sukumar will continue this series with another photo essay on Paris.

This is the next serving of our Paris Travelog series. The previous post was a photo-essay by Sukumar. You can check it out here.

A trip to Paris is incomplete without a visit to the fantastic Louvre, which has been a museum since 1793. It is the largest museum in the world. The sprawling complex, spread over 645,000 square feet has around 40,000 exhibits in its permanent collection. Even if one spends 2 or 3 minutes per exhibit, it will take 5 or 6 months to see the museum in full!

The much-talked about Glass Pyramid of the Louvre, “immortalized” by Dan Brown in his book The Da Vinci Code is in the entrance. Conceptualized & built by the American architect I.M.Pei in 1989, the modern composition in metal & Saint Gobain glass has nothing in common with the building behind it. The French were prostrated with grief, they were inconsolable. Then they got used to the pyramid & started bragging about it.

The best way to see Louvre is to take the 2 hour long guided tour, which covers the major attractions, then spending the rest of the day  - or 2 – in the galleries of your choice.

The museum is divided into 3 wings – Denon, Sully & Richelieu. Each wing has several collections, spread out over many Salles (rooms). Salle 7 in the Denon wing has the most famous painting in the world – Mona Lisa or La Giaconda. Protected by a glass pane, the small – and some say highly over-rated – painting by Leonardo da Vinci has no dearth of admirers. But the undisputed star of Salle 7 is the riveting Wedding Feast at Cana by Italian Master Paolo Veronese. The huge, colorful painting has a Biblical theme, like most Renaissance art: It depicts a miracle performed by Jesus Christ at Galilee. It makes the almost mono-chromatic Mona Lisa on the opposing wall look drab & dreary by comparison, da Vinci’s Sfumoto technique notwithstanding.

In my opinion, the best painting by da Vinci is St John the Baptist. Unfortunately, it was loaned to another museum & we couldn’t see it. Now, St John the Baptist was a prophet who foretold the birth of Christ. Look at the painting, the beautiful androgynous face & the enigmatic smile. Prophets have no business looking so good. The step-daughter of King Herod – Salome – fell head over heels in love with St John the Baptist. Sadly, the prophet didn’t find the princess hot enough Some people can’t take a “No” for an answer. So, Salome had the holy man – beheaded.

Our guide clearly didn’t think much of da Vinci. She showed us a remarkable portrait done by Raphael Santi: Count Baldassore Catiglione. “Look at the wonderful painting!” she ordered. “From his elegant clothes, you can make out that he’s wealthy. From his demeanor, his kind eyes & the expression on his face, you can guess that he was a friendly, approachable man!” she said. “This is how a portrait is supposed to be – it should convey the essence of the person being painted. What does Mona Lisa convey?” she spat out.  ”Which portrait do you prefer – Count Castiglione or Mona Lisa?” she asked me. “Well, its difficult to choose between them” I hazarded. Wrong answer. Our guide snorted.

The most depressing painting in the Denon Wing is Théodore Géricault’s The Raft of the Medusa in Salle 77. Done mostly in sorrowful grays, browns and black, it depicts a group of starving ship-wrecked sailors adrift on a sorry-looking raft. Some are dead. The rest look miserable. Some have lost all hope & some are almost mad with grief. If this grim painting doesn’t make you cry, I don’t know what will.

Probably one of the most controversial paintings in the Louvre is Caravaggio’s Death of the Virgin. The painting has darkened with age & depicts the grief-stricken apostles & Mary Magdalene upon the death of Mother Mary. The painting, completed in 1606 AD, caused a stir since it depicted the death of the Virgin – a subject that shocked people. Plus, Caravaggio allegedly used a prostitute as a model. People back then were easily shocked – just like people now. Guess some things never change

Apart from Mona Lisa, the most prized possessions of the Louvre are Venus de Milo and the Winged Victory of Samothrace. The latter dates back to the 3rd Century BC. We admired the artist’s skillful rendering of the statue’s flowing drapes. But, Venus? She & Mona Lisa suffered from the same problem: An even better work of art – a colossal Pallas Athena, in this case – was positioned on the opposing wall. We liked the majestic Athena, the warrior goddess, better than the limb-less Venus. Why, she couldn’t even gather her slippery robes! Perhaps we have a rather common, unartistic soul. Hey, we like what we like.

If you have some time, scoot over to the Near Eastern galleries in the Richelieu wing, if only to see 2 exhibits. Salle 4 has a recreation of an ancient Assyrian temple in Khorsabad, from the time of Sargon II. You can see many people mooning over 2 huge – really huge – sculptures of the Lamassu, mythical winged beasts with a human head & a beatific smile. But the author, obsessed with law, found another exhibit historically more significant: The Codex of Hammurabi. I had goose-bumps when I saw it

Created in the 18th Century BC in Babylon, this is one of the earliest comprehensive compendium of laws created in the world. Written in the Akkadian language in the Cueniform script, the basalt stele covers Commercial, Agricultural, Family & Administrative laws. There are laws governing divorce, inheritance, adoption, incest, slavery etc. The letter of the law. What an integral part it plays in attempting to keep humans human! I almost genuflected before the stele.

The Louvre has something for everyone, whether that someone loves art or not. Our suggestion is to head towards the “Northern School” galleries in the Richelieu wing, which houses paintings by Dutch & Flemish Masters. The subject of the paintings are pastoral scenes, still life, peasants & landscapes – AKA, the life & times of the little people. Far from being coarse, common & unworthy, these paintings are more pleasing – a whole lot more pleasing – than the ones about Kings, Queens, Gods & mythology. If you snort when you hear the word “Art” & dismiss it as high-brow – you should stop by these galleries. The paintings were so soul-satisfying, calming & refreshing.

The most famous painting in this gallery is Jan Vermeer’s Lace-maker. Here are a few more that we couldn’t get enough of: Hobbema’s Water Mill, Van Mieris’s Soap Bubbles, Coorte’s 6 Shells on a Stone Shelf, Snyders’s Group of Birds Perched on Branches, Heda’s Still Life with Silver Goblet & Cuyp’s  Landscape Near Rhenen. Their beauty is their sheer simplicity & universal appeal.

We did find a jarring note in the Louvre. Every single artifact was labeled in French & only in French. Some of the Salles had A-4 sheet-sized cards, listing main attractions in English, but these were hard to come by. Yes – in France, people speak French. But, the world speaks English. It would make the lives of tourists a lot easier if the exhibits are also labeled in English. We found it very difficult to check out the smaller exhibits in the Near Eastern galleries, for e.g. The Louvre does have the mother of all Multimedia Guides, but it covers only their prized possessions – which is < 5% of the permanent collection.

Sukumar will continue this series, with a photo-essay of the Louvre.

Here’s a link to the previous post in this series, a Photo Essay of Paris by Sukumar – the 1st of its kind in this blog.

One can’t visit France & not take an interest in the French Revolution. The explosive revolution of 1789 gave the world the phrase – Liberty, Equality & Fraternity. The monarchy was over-thrown in France & in its place, a democratic republic that had the inalienable rights of the individuals at its core was installed. Or was it? More on that later.

A visit to the Versailles palace is essential, to understand the origins of the French Revolution. During the reign of King Louis XIII, the Louvre served as the royal residence. When his son – the flamboyant Louis XIV took charge – he changed the headquarters from Paris to Versailles. The stunned courtiers, who were happily set in their wayward ways in Gay Paree, were dragged off to the marshy Versailles, whining & whimpering.

The self-absorbed king built a lavish palace worthy of him, le roi soleil (Sun King). Theoretically, the Versailles palace is a testament to the Baroque style. In reality, the over-the-top palace done in red, overlaid with gold leaves is a temple of solipsism. Its impossible not to catch a glimpse of the massive ego of Louis XIV, no matter where you turn.

Louis XIV really did himself well. Elaborate frescoes of Pagan Gods adorn the ceilings of all the rooms. Louis Quatorze fashioned himself after Apollo, the Sun God. His Throne Room was called the “Apollo Chamber”. From his ornate bedroom, he rose everyday facing east. Courtiers vied with each other to hold his chemise when he dressed. The crowning glory of the palace is of course, the Galerie de Glaces (Hall of Mirrors), with its chandeliers & gilded candle-sticks. When esteemed guests such as the King of Siam visited, the Hall was lit with 3,000 candles, its lights magnified by 17 precisely arranged mirrors. It must have been a sight to dream of.

Versailles served as the residence of 3 kings of France, all of them named Louis – Louis XIV, Louis XV & Louis XVI.

BTW, the Queens had to give birth in public, to prove the legitimacy of their children. They gave birth in their chambers, but courtiers closely “scrutinized” the births. Damn, they queued up to see a woman shrieking in labor pain, blood oozing from her loins. Ghastly. Guess they really ran short of entertainment in those days.

Severed from the harsh realities of Paris, the King & the aristocrats settled to an easy, hedonistic life in Versailles. So, they had no idea of the brewing discontent & resentment towards the monarchy among the poor. After a severe financial crisis in the reign of Louis XVI, an acute bread shortage hit France. A group of people stormed the Bastille, the state prison & released its inmates. The French Revolution was born – before it could be contained, before a semblance of order could be established, France made its descent into complete chaos.

Incidentally, nothing remains of the Bastille prison. It was razed to the ground, 2 months into the French Revolution. In its hey-days, it had some rather famous inmates – Voltaire. The Man in the Iron Mask. Oh, he was real enough. No one knew for sure who he was, but that never prevented them from spinning yarns at a feverish pitch. Alexandre Dumas believed that the prisoner was the twin brother of Louis XIV. Others washed the dirty undies of the royal family in public by claiming that the prisoner was the “real” father of Louis XIV: Queen Anne of Austria & her husband Louis XIII had been estranged for many years when Louis XIV was conceived

Coming back to the revolution, on October 1789, Versailles fell. King Louis XVI & his wife, Queen Marie Antoinette were placed on a house arrest in Paris till late 1792, when monarchy finally ended in France. A slew of charges were slapped on the King & the Queen. After a brief mockery of a trial, they were sentenced to death. They met their gruesome end in 1793 in the Place de la Concorde (Concord Square): they were guillotined.

We visited the Conciergerie. It was the royal residence, before it was shifted to the Louvre. In the latter part of the French revolution – known as the Reign of Terror – it was used as a prison. While awaiting trial, Queen Marie Antoinette spent a few months in the Conciergerie as prisoner #280. Visitors can still see her cell. The former Queen & Princess of Austria was watched by 2 male guards at all times – all times. There was no privacy. Marie Antoinette was very sick with uterine cancer then, she was hemorrhaging frequently. She used to beg the guards to look away, while she changed or cleaned up. But the guards pointedly refused: Their mandate was to watch the prisoner with eagle eyes. Orders were orders.

During the Reign of Terror – between June 1793 and July 1794 – almost 17,000 people were guillotined. The “leading light” of the Reign of Terror was a nut-case-cum-fanatic named Maximilien Robespierre. He targeted all the presumed enemies of the revolution – including moderates who did not want to guillotine the royal family – & his political rivals. The Conciergerie became the holding cell of the doomed.

In a strange case of reversal of fortunes, Robespierre was found guilty of tyranny in July 1794. He was guillotined – some say, face up – the next day. He was shot in his lower jaw during his arrest – the wound was possibly self-inflicted. Before guillotining him, the executioner ripped off the bandages covering his wounded jaw. Robespierre’s screams rent the air, as the guillotine came down.

A magnificent Obelisk (see Cleopatra’s Needle) -  taken from the Luxor temple in Egypt, stands sentinel in the spot where the terrible guillotine once stood. Flanked by 2 cheerful fountains, with a ferris wheel behind it, Place de la Concord looks like a picnic spot now. We had a fresh barbe à papa (cotton candy). The gilded top of the obelisk glittered benignly, determined to make us forget the macabre details of years past.

Sukumar will continue this travelog, with another Photo Essay, centered on the French Revolution.

Half of the world knows by now that we returned from an expedition to France. We are shocked & dismayed that fully one half of the world is unaware & ignorant of our exploits. We’re setting our experiences down in this Blog for posterity. Ready or not, here we come – The 1st post in our “France” series. Oh, before I forget – Happy New Year, Bonne Année!

A word of caution for those traveling to France from India: travel agents in India know diddly-squat about the country. Don’t expect any intelligent advice from either Thomas Cook or Cox & Kings. Use these clowns to book your hotel, flight and museum tickets. That’s all they are good for. Expecting anything else from them – such as knowing the sights & attractions of the country – can only filed under “irrational optimism”. You’re better off organizing the tour yourself.

Of course, that’s for people who want to soak in the sights & the culture of Paris. If all you want to do is go on “rubber-neck” tours – sit in a double-decker bus all day, gawk at attractions for a nanosecond as the bus zips by, click a few pictures, see only the Eiffel Tower & the Notre Dame Cathedral – the superficial cuts provided by the travel agents is right up your alley.

But that’s no way to see Paris – La Ville Lumière, the City of Lights. A trip to Paris is expensive. They don’t do “Cheap” in France. You might as well respect the city, plan your trip & do justice to the €€€ you shell out.

If you want to travel to Paris, spend $20 to buy a Fodor’s guide. Use it to learn the layout of the city & prepare your own itinerary. It will at least help you catch the gaffes of the travel agents. The bungling jack-asses in Cox & Kings insisted that we book a car to go the Orsay Museum, which they said was 60 miles from Paris. Its directly opposite the Louvre Museum, in the heart of the city! I felt like flinging them bum first into the Seine.

Paris is divided into 20 arrondisements (districts). The River Seine divides the heart of the city neatly into 2 parts – Rive Gauche (Left Bank) and Rive Droite (Right Bank). The city also has 2 small islands between the banks – Ile de la Cite and Ile St Louis. 37 bridges connect the 2 banks & the isles. Most of the attractions are situated near the banks of the river and on Ile de la Cite.

Paris is a city of distances. It’s a good idea to plan your itinerary around a particular area – such as Montmartre, Montparnasse, Latin Quarter, Le Marais, St Germain etc, so that you don’t spend your time flitting from place to place; Or worse, being stuck in a legendary Parisian traffic jam. Plus, the cabs are rather expensive.

Paris has a superb Metro system. Most tourist attractions are well-connected by Metro & the fares are very reasonable. If you are lucky, you can see the beautiful Art Nouveau iron gates built by architect Hector Guimard flanking some of the Metro entrances. Interestingly, when the Metro project was conceived, the engineers could not dig under the buildings – the land below the buildings belongs to the owners by French law. To avoid bankruptcy, the engineers had to build the railway lines under public property only – namely, the streets. So the Metro lines more or less mirror the streets of Paris.

They say travel expands one’s mind. This trip broke several misconceptions of ours. Many people told us – including our French Stewardess (Air Hostess) – that the French were unfriendly, arrogant, that they refused to parlez in Anglais. Nothing could be farther from the truth. We found the French polite, friendly, helpful & hospitable, like most people in the world. Complete strangers on the streets, on the Metro or in the shops were kind to us, whether they spoke English or not. “Maybe its us” I told Sukumar. “Perhaps they can’t resist our magnetic personalities”

Many Parisians do speak English, after a fashion. After all, tourism is a major money spinner for France. Consider this – Around 8 Million people visit the Louvre Museum every year. It makes a lot of sense for the Parisians to speak some English – after all, it’s the Lingua Franca of the world; Having said that – it’s a good idea to carry a French phrase book & to learn a few words in French. So you’ll know that the waiter isn’t accusing you of being “too late” when he asks “du lait” (with milk)

And sometimes, a rudimentary knowledge of (AKA high school) French isn’t enough. We were aghast to see “Plugs” listed as one of the ingredients in a Pizza. The whole world knows that the French eat funny stuff like Escargot (Snails). And now they eat – plugs? Our amused waiter explained that “plugs” is some part of “pigs”. He tried to explain how “plugs” are “harvested” in graphic detail, but we hastily asked him for some water to – plug -the deluge of information. So unfortunately, I can’t share that nugget of wisdom with you

To our pleasant surprise, getting vegetarian food in Paris is easy. Of course, one must avoid the Cafes and the numerous Charcuteries in the city & patronize the ethnic restaurants instead. Paris has many Chinese, Arabic/Jewish, Turkish, Thai, Vietnamese, Italian – and yes, Indian restaurants. The cafes uniformly serve wonderful, strong, aromatic coffee. It is a deadly sin, not having a hot cuppa in a café.

While on the subject of coffee, we found it funny that in France – like Italy – “sitting” coffee costs more than “standing” coffee. If you have your coffee on the bar sitting on a stool, it costs half as much as the same coffee served in a table/chair. Go figure!

The French love dogs. Canines of all shapes, sizes and breeds sauntered around us – much to my glee – even in the biting cold. Most of them had leashes. Some of them wore dainty sweaters. I don’t know what they feed these dogs, but I tell you – they all had excellent digestive systems. If you catch my drift. Even small dogs left a small hillock sized – residue The pooper-scooper laws are either non-existent or not enforced in France. So, while on the foot-path, you have to watch for mounds of disgusting dog doo. The French love their dogs – but not enough to clean their “fixed deposits”

As far the sheer beauty of the city – there’s simply no other city like Paris. The French have been very successful in preserving their heritage. Almost every building is a jewel of incomparable architectural beauty. Most of the old buildings, dating back to the time of Napoleon Bonaparte are intact. That brings us to Haussmannian Paris. More about that later. Sukumar’s Photo Essay on Paris will be the next post.

He was lying on the pavement of a busy street. He was the human image of filth. Flies were buzzing around his nose. He was lying in his feces, his shirtless torso & matted hair covered in dust. His pants might have once had a color, but now it had acquired the sorry hue of dirt. His bloodshot eyes were open, his eyeballs hidden by fluttering eyelids. His half open mouth was drooling.

It was Sunday evening. We were walking along an arterial road of Chennai – Radhakrishnan Salai. We were running an errand, I forget what exactly – something trivial & silly. We were looking for an address when we saw him. He was in a piteous state.

We looked at each other, our errand hovering in the background. But we had to do something to help him, he was clearly mentally deranged. Surely, many non-profit organizations serve the mentally ill.

So we called “Udhavum Karangal” (Helping Hands), an NGO that serves orphans & the destitute. A grumpy voice answered our call. “You’re calling on Sunday, a holiday” the voice said accusingly. But this man is very ill, we pleaded. “Have you called the police? That’s the procedure”.

We called the Police Control Room & made our request. Could the police please pick up the man? “Can the old man walk?” asked the police. We begged the police, he can’t be more than 30 but he looks like hell. Could you please pick him up? “You have to call the ambulance, #108 for that” we were told.

We called #108. The line was dead.

It was 4:30 PM. The Chennai sun was doing what it does best, which is scorching everything below. It was unbearably hot. Protected by a clump of trees, we were sweating profusely. The man was tossing & turning on the hot cement pavement, helpless & unprotected from the merciless sun.

We called the police again. “Please Sir. Help him”. They assured us that they will contact the ambulance. In the meantime, they agreed to send someone in 15 minutes.

We were standing directly opposite the “City Center” Mall, right next to the “Levis Strauss” outlet. Countless cars, bikes and people whizzed by. Men & women dressed to the nines. Youngsters out to have a good time. Parents dragging their children for a quick prayer in a nearby make-shift temple . Hardly anyone stopped to offer assistance. The battered man writhing on the street did not merit a single glance of pity.

An inspector promptly arrived in 20 minutes. “This is the procedure” he said briskly. “If anyone is willing to accompany him to the hospital & act as his relative, I’ll call the ambulance immediately”. He then took a closer look at the man. “This guy? We’ve admitted him to KMCH (Kilpauk Medical College Hospital) twice so far. Within a few days of his release, he’s back on the streets” he said, shaking his head.

We called “Udhavum Karangal” again. Please, we begged. Can someone from your organization accompany this man to KMCH? “We are full. We can’t take him in” we were told. You don’t have to take him in, can you accompany him to KMCH? “I need my Manager’s permission” – Unbelievable, we thought. Bureaucracy, when you least expect it. We donate liberally to you, we reminded them. Please call your manager. “He’s unreachable, sorry”.

“Did you find someone, madam?” asked the inspector, not unkindly. Please give us some time, we requested humbly. He agreed & busied himself with what inspectors do, he caught a bunch of traffic violators & wrote them tickets. “Please don’t mistake me madam” he said. “My workload is heavy & I don’t even have constables assisting me. I can’t accompany this man in the ambulance. But if you find someone that can take charge of him..”.

Let’s try “The Banyan”, we decided. Their primary goal is to help women, but certainly they won’t leave a schizophrenic lying on the streets near a cesspool. “We’re sorry, today is a holiday, so you have to call our volunteer” we were told. We called the volunteer.

“A man!” he said reproachfully. “Sorry sir, we only serve women”. But this man needs their help, we implored. Please, you don’t have to do anything, will you accompany him to the hospital? “We are full, we can’t help him”. We were stumped. Is there some other organization that he could recommend, that might help this man? “Well sir, had this been a woman, I could have given you 3 or 4 other numbers”.

This was new, we thought bitterly. Discrimination against men. The volunteer thawed slightly. “Well, since you’re persistent, please try Mahabodhi. They help old people”. The man wasn’t old. Our hearts fell into our stomach. But we still called Mahabodhi. The line was dead.

“Well, sir?” asked the inspector. “I’ve been waiting for 30 minutes. Did you find someone?”. My husband looked at me. “I’ll go with him” he said. “What? You in a disease-ridden ambulance with him?” I balked. Involuntarily, we looked at him. His whole body was jerking spasmodically. He was having a seizure.

That settled it for me. “Both of us will accompany him, Inspector” I said. “We’ll follow the ambulance”. The inspector looked a little taken aback. He was probably not expecting this response. “You look like decent people” he said. “Do you know what accompanying him means? If he runs away from the hospital or needs any kind of attention, you’ll be the 1st point of contact”. We looked at each other & our faces fell. We’ll become his guardians? We were not prepared for that. He was a stranger, he could be dangerous.

“Please don’t think ill of me, its not that I don’t want to help him” said the inspector, sensing our dismay. “You see, all this is new to you. I see much sadness & depravity everyday that I’m benumbed” he said uncomfortably. We couldn’t speak, we just nodded our heads. Meeting the inspector had been the best part of the ordeal.

“Say” said the inspector. “I’m positive this guy does drugs. He’s not ill at all, he’s on a high now. in another hour, he’ll be fine” he said. We think he made that up to make us & himself feel better. “Spend your time with your family, don’t waste your weekend with drug-dealing scum”.

As we turned to leave, thanking the inspector for his help, he said simply – “Please don’t think I’m heartless. I did my best”. We stammered our thanks & assured him that we didn’t think badly of him. After all, the Police Department had gone above & beyond their call of duty, while the others were no-shows.

The man lay on the pavement in the twilight, twitching slightly.