I was walking down one of the streets in great Lisbon(Great Lisboa, as it is called here),totally out of company and not knowing the local language which is Portuguese.This was my first trip alone to some place so foreign to me.This is my first ever trip to Europe. In most Asian countries,which I had visited before,I could have easily mingled with the people there and could converse them in either Hindi, Urdu or Arabic.I had with me textual guide which would help me ask people about the place I am right now and where the place I have to go to is, and all, but as of yet I haven't seen any friendly face amongst the crowd.Everybody seemed walking to their own rhythm and seemingly unaware of a foreign girl in dilemma of how to ask help and whom to ask. I walked by the pavements and across the roads, realizing that these were the very same roads where centuries ago Julius Caesar must've gone past.The very soil beneath my feet must be holding such place in history which I may be ignorant of as many other walking across those streets.I was exhausted after walking for a very long time along the streets and knowing nothing about the language.I was disappointed that I haven't seen much of the city and this is my third day in the city.On the first day I visited the museums to realize that you couldn't understand the history of any city in a single day.The next day I visited the well-known markets intending to buy some souvenirs for myself and my kith and kin.I was again disappointed .No,the city had many specialties and amazing artifacts ,curios etc. which would make an excellent souvenir which I could keep for my lifetime, but with the world being a Global Village now, I returned to my hotel, disappointed. Why? Because everything that I buy here is available at my country or in that case any country at the same rates. Then why should I pay the Extra Tax to take them home! And the third day is going to have the same disappointing end to it. It's already three in the afternoon.I felt angry with myself and was furious at the cursed moment when I set out all alone.The next time I would make sure that I would arrange a guide for myself.
I was walking through a comparatively less crowded street.I noticed something peculiar. A man ,aged between 60 and 80 leaning on to a wall and reading some printed matter(I guess some newspaper). At last I found someone who is less busy with their own troubles.
I went up to him and opened my guide and started asking in a hugely accented Portuguese where the Castle of São Jorge was.He smiled at my absurd Portuguese and to my surprise and joy asked in French whether I knew the language.I screamed out " Oui" ,that is "yes" in French.He told me that its just two streets across and he could assist me to find the place if I liked .I was more than happy to let him take me to the place. He asked me why I had come here ,"is it a holiday trip or are u here for work?"he asked and also asked where I was from.I told him that I am an Indian student of History and I had come here because I wanted to know more about Lisbon and it's culture and would like to take with me some memories of the places which was once under the greats of the likes of Julius Caesar and Tiberius.He told me that he has been to India quite a few times and adores it's culture and people, both alike. At this I was embarrassed because as a non-resident Indian who lived in the middle-east for most of her life till date, I knew quite little about the country and I doubted if I , an Indian knew any more or rather even as much as this old man.He asked me what my name is and I told him that my parents named me Zarina but I'm fondly called Zara.Before I could ask him what his name is, he got me engaged in conversation and I doubted if he did it on purpose.He started telling me that human occupation on those hilltops began at around 6th century BC even though archeology tells us that the first fortifications began in the 2nd century BC.He gave an extensive and informative talk starting from the history to the architecture.He then advised me that if I was really interested in knowing more about the city I should be visiting some local bars and talking to local people and must visit some less visited places than tourist places like the Castle which I am about to visit.I interrupted him, complaining that how am I supposed to speak to the local people when I do not know their language and nor do they know mine.He told me that sometimes words aren't necessary to communicate an idea.Look at the silent films that was replaced by modern cinema.Although there wasn't any speech in the whole film , still people watch it because they understand it.By now, I was quite impressed by this man.He surely must be some person of importance,I thought.I couldn't suppress the temptation to ask him about himself.I burst out asking who he was and what he does and the usual questions that a woman of my age might ask out of curiosity.But he looked at me and smiled with the shine of knowledge that you could find in many little people. The light of free thoughts and liberal ideas.I looked at him but he pointed his hands towards a road that would lead me atop the hill. I understood there wasn't any need of insisting him on to telling me about himself.But before I walked away he handed me those printed pages that he had in his hands.I took it and smiled at him.An innocent smile of a youth ,quenching for knowledge.I could listen to him sitting down on one of the benches, which are there in both sides of the roads,behind me.I walked on, without looking backward , to my destination, where my destiny takes me.........
After a month I came back home ,having travelled various parts of Portugal,several pubs, several streets, and many roads and many more yet to discover.I was sitting in my flat thinking about the journey, that I remembered about the pages my fellow friend from Lisbon gave me.I found it amongst my books from Lisbon and started reading it.It was the copy of a typescript of a novel, a very interesting one indeed. I read it and now I knew who he was, who made me meet with my destiny.He was the very author who inspired me to travel to Portugal and I couldn't even recognize him. But I was not sad about that because I knew that I have to go back and find more about the place, its legend and I have a friend to go back to, my dear friend.
But .........
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