Arts & Culture - Armenian Reporter

essayThe masala (spicy) Armeniansby Mary TerzianMary Terzian is a freelance writer residing inCalifornia. She is the author of The Immigrants’Daughter.“You know I’m going to India,” dropped afriend, during a casual conversation.“No, I didn’t. What for?”“There’s a pilgrimage to the Armenianchurches there.”“I wanted to go too but it’s too latenow.”“Try this number and see.”So I did, without a second thought ora review of the itinerary. It was an excellentopportunity to visit India but rathera rash decision, ten days before finaldeparture, without an airline booking ora visa. I don’t fly off to unknown landson impulse but the offer was attractiveand I needed an escape. Call it travelosisif you will.Friends were shocked as much as Iwas.“India? What for? Did you run out ofcountries to visit?”Granted, India may not sound as adventuresomeas a Himalayan hike, or acruise on the Amazon into the jungle,much less like a romantic escapadeto Paris, but I had a compelling reason.The Supreme Head of the ArmenianOrthodox Church, His HolinessKarekin II, was going to re-consecraterenovated churches, inaugurate the refurbishmentof the Armenian Collegeand Philanthropic Academy under newmanagement, and celebrate the 300thanniversary of the establishment of theArmenian Holy Church of Nazareth inCalcutta, now Kolkata.The 300th anniversary is no mistake.The dates are verifiable on the gravesin the adjoining cemetery. The deaddon’t lie. It appears that Armenianshad established a thriving communityin Calcutta and thereabouts, and werein business “some sixty years beforeBritish adventurers became establishedtraders” there, extending their activitiesall the way to the Philippines. Theywere merchants, not conquerors. Theyhad the lucidity and foresight to establisha community complete with church,school through college, and the first Armeniannewspaper in print, also servingArmenian students from other cities inIndia, Iran, Armenia and now Iraq - sortof the Eastern equivalent of the MelkonianInstitute in Cyprus.Travel to India is not for the faint ofheart. Overpopulation, pollution, congestionamong carts, bicycles, rickshawson tricycles, motorized three-wheelvehicles, regular taxis and buses, allclaiming the right of way among pedestrians,beasts of burden, weight-carryinghumans, and cows create a chaos oftraffic germane to Third-World countries.Honks are ineffective. Under thecircumstances, driving a tourist busthrough narrow streets, within an inchof other users of the road, is a risky andat times hair-raising experience. It tookme a week to realize that Indians driveon the left side of the road.Our group of 22, give or take a fewduring different legs of our trip, includedfour former students from theArmenian school, and a family of eightgoing back for a homecoming. The ageof travelers spanned six years to seniorsover 70, mostly Armenian-Americansfrom across the United States, a gentlemanfrom England stationed in Germany– one of the former students – and acouple from Vienna. We had the perfectopportunity and sample to test if theadage “the best way to assess one’s personalityis either to travel with him/heror play a competitive game” was on target.There was the cheerleader, pipingout familiar Armenian tunes refreshingour faded memories, the gatekeeperfor rules, the romantic, the incurable“shopoholic,” busy even at pit stops, theentrepreneur, the organizer, the intrepid,the quiet mouse. Further probesinto our roots revealed other hyphens– ex-Egyptian, ex-Bulgarian, ex-Rumanian,etc. – creating a chart of Easternand Western Armenian dialects seasonedwith Hindi, Farsi, English, Turkish,and Arabic, in short a masala (spicy)group. Daily interaction adjusted us toeach other’s singularities, accommodatingthe noisy, the tardy, the bossy, thefunny. We quickly surmounted our languageand character differences too. Wewere a resilient group of Hyes after all.Although tourism was not our mainfocus, we did visit the old and newer,sophisticated, quarters of Delhi, ridecamels in Mindawa, hop over elephantsto a mountain top, visit the famous TajMahal in Agra and other ancient palaces,attend dinner in a maharaja’sresidence, and thereafter proceed toKolkata, where Catholicos Karekin IIand his entourage, the 27-member EchmiadzinChoir, and Armenians fromIran, England, Armenia, and Australiawould congregate to celebrate the recentrenovation of five churches in the Armenian-Indiancommunity. Little did Iknow that I had signed up for a once-ina-lifetimeevent!Our 16-hour overnight trek by railto Kolkata will certainly be a story totell posterity about. Sleeping in proximityon stacked beds behind curtains,through the dark of the night, whenwhispers, snores, telephone calls, andthe squeaking wheels of the rails gainextra volume, the privacy of homeseemed like a distant dream. The uninitiatedbaby-boomers among us certainlyshrieked at the Indian-style sanitaryamenities common to developingcountries. Though the comfort level wasreasonable by local standards, the elementof surprise magnified the extentof the hardships.The highlight of our trip was aheadin Kolkata, following the footsteps ofCatholicos Karekin II, to the renovatedchurches in Chennai and Tangra, andthe Armenian College in Kolkata. Eachone of them kept impeccably clean,stood out in beauty, order and serenity,in sharp contrast to the disarray in theneighborhood. After each event, membersof the local Armenian communityoffered their graceful hospitality, all theway to Saidabad, a seven-hour trek fromKolkata each way, due to traffic and potholes– a very bumpy trip that made ahash of our bones.It was, indeed, God’s little acre onearth, home to the Aivazian family in ourgroup. The driver’s maneuvers to parkthe bus were akin to “passing a camelthrough the eye of a needle.” Of coursewe were within the sacred compoundof church grounds and any miracle waspossible. A delicious lunch served afterthe services under a tent set up outside,in the idyllic setting by the lake,revived our energy for the return trip.The final evening banquet, at Taj BengalHotel, topped the list in elegant dining,with the Catholicos and guest dignitariescongratulating the Armenian-IndianLeft: Travel to Indiais not for the faint ofheart. Overpopulation,pollution, congestionamong carts, bicycles,rickshaws ontricycles, motorizedthree-wheel vehicles,regular taxis andbuses, all claiming theright of way amongpedestrians, beastsof burden, weightcarryinghumans, andcows create a chaosof traffic germane toThird-World countries.Below: Mary Terzian.community for the monumental taskof regenerating their existence. Experiencegained during our outbound trip toKolkata made the return to Delhi almostpleasant.In retrospect, the sharagans (hymns)we sang in the churches with the EtchmiadzinChoir sparkle in memory. Inthese remote (for us) churches, as werecited our “Hayr Mer,” dressed in saris,Western-style clothes or loose Easternstylegarments, the famous lines of poetVahan Tekeyan, “The Armenian churchis the birthplace of my soul,” hoveredin my mind. We stood united in faith.We could not but express our appreciationand our awe to the dwindlingArmenian-Indian community of 80 inKolkata, and to the student body, foroffering us this opportunity of communionwith them, and for preserving ournational character and heritage. Theystand tall as viable members of the ArmenianDiaspora.We were strangers when we startedour trip. After our fellowship of 18 daysthrough thick and thin, from regal accommodationsto cramped quarters,from modern conveniences to sub-standard(per Western outlook) amenities,from palatial residences to local bazaars,and from luscious meals to snacks onthe run, we had become family, till deadlinedid us part.Will I visit India again? I doubt it. WillI go looking for Armenians in the SouthPole or in Timbuktu? Perhaps. Right nowI will attend to updating my list of valuablenew friendships.C4 Armenian Reporter Arts & Culture December 6, 2008