What can you say about a twenty-five-year-old girl who died? That she was beautiful and brilliant? That she loved Mozart and Bach, the Beatles, and me?
I was up late into the night watching what is – arguably - the greatest love story ever filmed. Maybe that’s why it is simply called “Love Story”. There’s nothing in the story – you would have come across it in innumerable Hindi films. But still, it makes you shed a tear. The review of the movie will come later sometime.
“Listen, what are you wearing today?” I asked Pragati when I called her up in the morning. For the past three days, we’ve been wearing identical colors, and I didn’t exactly want another “coincidence”. You might think I’m crazy to have such considerations, and yes, I am crazy in my own way.
Vorosmarty tere is one of the terminuses of the old metro line (Metro 1). It is a small dimly lit underground station, quite different from the spanking and bright stations that you see on the 2nd metro line. The everyday commuter would perhaps not even give it a second glance. But look closer and you would notice that the whole station is laid out in white and brown tiles, as in the style of the old underground stations of London and all other cities. Green ornate metal pillars support the roof. Even the trains have the old look – perhaps the best way to preserve the historic aspect of the railway. I read yesterday that the line is more than a hundred years old.
The exit from the station leads you into the grand and exquisite looking Vorosmarty Square (that’s what ‘tere’ means, I presume). The place is filled with small cafes. A huge statue is almost dwarfed by the buildings all around it. A steel monstrosity (called “Heroes” or something) that claims to be a multipurpose building juts out like a sore thumb amongst all those beautiful old-style buildings. We discovered that this place was near to the Intercontinental Hotel, about which we had had an interesting discussion on Sunday (as to, in how many years with SAP could we afford to stay in such a hotel). A few steps further to the west lead you to the pier on the Danube.
It was raining when we stepped out of the metro station. But now, it had stopped temporarily. The rays of the sun were streaming out from behind the dark clouds, casting a golden glow on the dome of the Royal Palace upon the hill. On my left, with the backdrop of dark storm clouds stood the Elizabeth Bridge and the Liberty Statue (no relation to the lady who stands on Ellis Island). And on the right, loomed the majestic Szechernyi Lanchid – the “Chain Bridge”. I decided to head for it.
By the time I reached the bridge, the sun had come out of the clouds, and was not painting the waters of the Danube in a golden hue. It was a glorious evening. A small restaurant under the shades of the bridge had a troupe playing lovely music. I stopped for some time to take in the atmosphere. The bridge was bathed in the golden light of the setting sun.
It took me close to forty five minutes to cross the bridge and return back. I later discovered that I had clicked at least a photo per minute. There are obviously some advantages in having a digital camera – you do not need to be stingy about the film that you use up. You do not need to consider that perhaps once I develop the photo, the shot might not look good – just delete it if it doesn’t! But then the shots were worth the trouble. The American family from Indiana, who made the crossing along with me, had perhaps outdone me.
During dinner at Vaci ut (one of the major shopping streets in Budapest) Pragati educated me about Mango – no not the fruit, but one of the leading clothing brands in the world. I professed my ignorance about fashion, when I promptly stated that I had never heard of it. She informed me about how the latest trends in fashion appear in India only six months after Europe. Well, as I already stated yesterday, you learn something new everyday.
I still hate that escalator!
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