Confessions of an Insomniac - Part 1

The insomniac is sleepless, not just in Seattle, but just about everywhere. His pet peeve is that he has been singularly victimized in a world where everyone else seems to sleep just fine.

Presently, he is stuck in a bus sharing the two-seater with another gentleman who has dozed off at the drop of a hat to borrow a familiar phrase. The afternoon sun beats down mercilessly and shows little remorse.
"How can someone sleep in these sub-human conditions?", the Insomniac curses under his breath. He suddenly finds himself threateningly close to the leaning tower of Pisa which is about to plomp its head on his shoulder. Pisa's eyes are in deep stupor, its cheeks unshaven and pock marked, hair tousled and oily, moustache uneven and walrus like and mouth ajar with a steady drool! Another individual, another gender, a different age group- perhaps the Insomniac would have been more lenient and accommodative.

The Insomniac tries to sway out of harm's way, but Pisa's leaning cannot be controlled anymore. It  follows the Insomniac with a vengeance encroaching almost the entire seat till the Insomniac cannot take it anymore. He uses his elbow and jabs Pisa in the ribs. Pisa stirs momentarily, eyes cloudy and confused, wipes the drool, swallows the remainder of the saliva, blinks, looks around and is back in deep slumber. The Insomniac regains his lost territory only to find Pisa repeating the leaning act.

The Insomniac is given to self pity. People seem to get sleep just about everywhere- benches of a park, curled in the main hall of a railway station with a stray dog for company and even in the hollow of a pipe by the roadside. How is it so effortless for the rest of the world, he wonders.  His friends add to his woes- "I spent the weekend just sleeping, woke up briefly for lunch and then went back to sleep", they brag shamelessly. He has stopped discussing weekend accomplishments because it gives him a complex. But his friends know his weakness and like to pull his leg at the Cricket match. "If the next wicket falls before the draw of stumps, we know whom to send as the night-watchman", they joke. The Insomniac sheepishly grins.

It's not as if he has not scouted for help. He has tried every blessed technique with little success- number-therapy, music-therapy, mantra-therapy to name a few. No one asked a better boon from Lord Brahma than Kumbhakarna he soliloquizes. Kumbhakarna actually wanted Lordship over all the devas- Nir-devatwam. But Goddess Saraswati had other ideas. Residing on the asura's tongue, she deftly twisted it so that the "visarga"  fell on the next syllable and Kumbhakarna blurted out Nidraa-vatwam- Good sleep! Lord Brahma couldn't care about the slip of tongue. "So be it"- uttered Brahma and vanished. Kumbhakarna was stuck with his boon and became the epitome of good sleep.
The Insomniac is farthest from good sleep. But he has set his goal high. His idol is Kumbhakarna!

- To be continued.

The Raconteur

Dinesh Tembe was the fattest boy in school. You could recognize him from a distance. He was popular and unanimously elected as the school captain in our final year. I never saw him after that though I've tried to google him several times. In my mind, he is still frozen the way he looked decades ago. It would be disappointing if he suddenly popped up on facebook appearing just like the rest of us, doing a job and running a family. He was an icon and should remain so.
He was a good student, though not particularly well known for academic excellence. Evidently, he didn't go too far in sports and games either.
However, there was one skill which set him apart from the rest. As a story teller, he was unparalleled and the rating remains the same even now. As school boys, we looked forward to the day the teacher would be absent. That day was reserved for Dinesh. He strode the class as a veritable colossus weaving a story for an entire day leaving the rest of us completely spell bound! If there was a substitution teacher, she would join our ranks in listening to the story. Such was his magnetic ability.
At times, he would even be "loaned" to other classes when their teachers did not show up so that others could also benefit from listening to his tales! It didn't in the least bother either Dinesh or even his teachers that he was missing some valuable lessons. It seemed the easiest way to keep a raucous class of 50 in pin-drop silence! Even the principal didn't command that respect!

Elbows on the desk, palms cupping the face and eyes transfixed ahead- that used to be the favourite posture for the audience. He never ran out of ideas for his stories. Firstly, they were entirely his own and completely extempore. He had a full series- Mangal Singh, Sher Singh and his favourite- Inspector Eagle. His stories had no ending and the narrative had the ability to easily flow into the next plot. The story automatically ended when the classes ended for the day!
When he narrated the escapades of Inspector Eagle, it was with detail that could leave many a professional author shamefaced! We could feel the character swivelling his "Impala" car over a rainy road at night on a hot chase after the villain. The car would have a siren echoing "Eagle-Eagle" and the tyres would squeal over a bend and screech to a halt once Inspector Eagle found that it would be easier to disembark and take on the ruffian with bare hands!
If Dinesh found that the class was getting a bit restless, immediately he would throw in a comic element and have the entire class in uproarious laughter. Soon, everyone would put finger to the lips and tell each other to stay calm so that the story could go on! When it came to fight sequences, it was almost as if James Bond were in front of us. Dinesh's portly frame would no longer be in our vision and would be replaced by an agile hero who could jump over buildings, scale bridges, punch, defend, sommersault and kick the villain to submission!

Gazing out of the window over trains and buses, I've often reminisced wistfully over school days. You suddenly recall some detail you've never thought about all these years and are pleasantly surprised! That's how Inspector Eagle came flashing to the inward eye! Soon, I was smiling and the journey was no longer irksome! Dinesh, you are a raconteur sans pareil ! 

Doubting Thomas

"How did your exam go?" asked my mother when I returned from my "XII standard Maths Board exam". "Well, the paper was simple, but I have a doubt. I am unsure whether I wrote the examination number (roll number) on the answer sheet! I just can't remember, I'm afraid". Racked by that doubt, I would spend the next two months of a well earned summer vacation brooding- brooding over all kinds of sinister possibilities- may be the roll-number is missing, may be I wrote it incorrectly, may be I didn't tie the supplement answer sheets tightly and let one of them drift away, may be I tied the sheet too tight and made a hole and thereby let the paper loose, may be I didn't turn the question paper over and forgot to answer the questions at the back, may be my professional dreams will come a cropper!

The prospects look too horrendous to ponder over and gnaw at you depriving you of sleep, leisure and a sane mind! That's the whole problem with a doubting Thomas- doubt assails him at every step.

The train chugs out of the station into the night. I convince myself that I would have definitely written the roll-number correctly; after all, I've never made such a mistake ever. I'm hoping that I can keep doubt at bay with a change in the locales for the next two months. As I gaze out of the window leaving behind the city lights, panic grips me suddenly. I wonder whether I locked the main door at all. I recall that I checked my ticket, the keys and the wallet multiple times- but I draw a blank whether I closed the door. Perhaps, I didn't and just left the door ajar!
Now, how about the gas-stove? Did I turn it off after the last cup of tea that I had ? Memory fails me at this critical juncture as it did Karna trying to recall the Brahmaastra mantra in his last fight against Arjuna. I try to relive the actions surrounding these contentious points, (as people advise you to do) but they are covered in a perpetual haze with no clarity emerging on any of them. The exercise, at best helps to uncover more points to add to my already long list of doubts!

As years go by, doubts more frightening than ever get added. I gave the cheque all right, but did I accidently leave the amount field blank ? I know I signed the cheque. I am sure of that! No doubt! But I don't quite recall whether I wrote the amount either in words or in figures!
Little wonder that the Geeta says- Sanshaya-atma vinashyati (the doubting Thomas is doomed!) and adds that there's neither this world, nor the other nor even simple joys for the doubter! Amongst vices, doubt is doubtlessly the worst!

"Try to deal with doubt with deliberate action", i.e. "be in the moment" as opposed to doing things mechanically. This is the oft quoted method to deal with doubt. But it is here that I have a doubt- How do I know that I am acting deliberately ? Who is going to give his stamp of approval ?

I now have a different technique to deal with doubt. Verification followed by re-verification! Once you've locked the door, tug at it multiple times to prove to yourself that you've done the job. At a later point in time, when Doubt tries to take stab at you, you can surely recall the elaborate antics, thumb your nose at Doubt and sit back with comfort!
Of course, my neighbour might watch the proceedings and doubt (he too!) my mental health-as I virtually hang onto the door and try to yank the padlock off the very bolt! I've noticed that this method actually works.
One's mannerisms of course look fidgety and clumsy in trying to check and re-check. But that's a small price to pay. The pouch  hanging off the belly has to be unzipped and zipped every now and then to confirm that the passport has not yet walked away! The back pant pocket has to be felt from time to time to confirm that the wallet is still well and safe, the side pocket needs a little tap off and on to verify that the cell phone is still around, the neck has to be given a little twitch so that the keys hanging off the chain can jingle and prove that they still exist! I've conquered doubt. I am certain!

I just used the restroom. I now have a doubt about the zip!

Batting "chor"

Thieves come in all shapes, sizes and intent. Some are occasional cheats, others are pathological shop lifters and still others genetically disposed to pinching the odd blanket in an airplane or the towels in a hotel room. However, there is a peculiar thief who has never been documented till date. In Mumbai parlance, he's called a "batting chor (thief)".

The batting chor comes from a particular background. He is an obsessively pampered, spoilt brat, with rich parents. If his domineering attitude is tolerated, it is with reason- No one in the neighbourhood has a Cricket bat and ball. He needs to be kept in good humour so that the rest of us can play the game. A sort of symbiotic relationship you can say.

No one wants to be a bowler or a fielder in this part of the world. It is a positively unenviable job to be a fielder- you  have to jump over barbed wire fences and risk bruises or scale compound walls or run across the streets or fetch the ball from the gutter. As a bowler, your resources are limited. A tennis or rubber ball does little in the air or off the wicket. It stands up, just right for the batsman to give the ball a whack and watch it sail across the main road and disappear into the buildings in the distance. Little wonder, that this city has produced some of the best batsmen the world has seen but is yet to produce a bowler who would be on everyone's lips.

The batting chor loves batting. Get him out early or in a controversial way and he shows his dissent- he simply picks up the bat and ball and runs home leaving the rest of us high and dry! Game over! No amount of cat calls or abuses of "batting chor" can help. In fact, they are counter productive. You just have to wait for a change of heart (always from his end) and hope that you will get a chance to bat once his turn is over.

The "leg before wicket" dismissal was long removed from the rules of the game to avoid an obviously ambiguous element. Still, controversy stalks the game- simply because there are no stumps! Cricket is typically played in a building compound with the stumps drawn by hand on the wall- often with a broken brick or with a crushed leaf. Clean bowled is now no longer clean- the stumps don't take a walk neither do the bails fly! The batting chor cannot be convinced that he is out bowled. He insists that the ball hit a different part of the wall and not the stumps. In the absence of hawk-eye and replays, the bowler and the fielders are clearly helpless with the batsman playing the umpire's role as well.

Of course, we devised an innovative method to fix the problem. A bucket of water was brought in- the tennis ball was dipped in the water and bowled each time, so that it would leave its unmistakable imprint on the wall. That way, the evidence was there for all to see. But a disgruntled batting chor is hard to please. His excuses are many and sometimes we just have to indulge him.

I am tempted to point out that we have documented evidence of a certain Dronacharya who groomed his favourite Arjuna by ferrying him across the Mumbai maidans everyday so that even if he is dismissed early in one match, he gets a chance to bat in another! Would this also qualify as promoting batting fiefdom ?

We don't care if the means are questionable provided the result is a Cricketing God!

Rome to....home!

All the world's a memory:

The trip has been reduced to a memory. All the exotic places and people that we visited exist as just another thought. In fact, that’s the most enduring thing in life-thoughts.  Our entire past, till this moment is a collection of thoughts. Thoughts are wonderful. As time goes by, we can pull them out one more time and all these places and people will come alive and twirl in front of us, just as they did when we visited them. If we want, we can color the water at Venice a deeper green or the Alps a deeper purple or the Mona Lisa a more mysterious smile! 

It is not as if we need to go to Switzerland and Italy for a family vacation every time. This time, it was possible. It would be perfectly fine even if we just went to Kabini and Byndoor. What is important is to have a collective memory of events as a family. Perhaps, the children will grow up and remember that we made this trip and recall some completely irrelevant fact- may be how we panicked when we missed the connecting train to Venice or when their father picked a lemon flavor for an ice-cream and struggled with it only to throw it away finally! It is the recollection of these details which makes these trips fulfilling.

Travelling light:

Leaving aside this philosophical verbiage, for sure, I am not going to miss a few things- luggage! The hands are coarse and rugged and the ankles (for almost everyone) have slight bruises as we dragged the suitcases across streets and hauled them over trains, staircases and lifts. At times, we silently wished the thief had taken away our biggest suitcase (now that it is intact, we can always conjecture!). At least, the rest of the trip would have been that much easier! There looked no way to travel lighter- we had to carry winter gear and rainy wear both of which proved indispensible during the trip. May be, we should have dumped the jeans and carried formal trousers which would have been a lot lighter- but then, given the laundry woes, jeans are the most rugged and I doubt whether a substitute would have served as well.

How about the rice cooker? It occupied space all right but we owe one meal a day to it! How fondly we looked forward to a meal of rice with just MTR puliyogare and yogurt! The laptop? Well, at the outset, it seems totally useless and a candidate we could have dumped into the River Seine, but it was the only window into our familiar world. At times, we were loitering like Tom Hanks in the Castaway- no clue about which day of the week it was, what we did for a living or how we were all related! All that was important was to follow the blessed itinerary and ensure that we were still on track. Given that, we would have all gone crazy well before the trip ended without the laptop and internet connectivity. At the end of the tiring day (as everyday invariably was), the kids could access their favourite sites, Usha could still catch up with her facebook and I was reassured to see that Mumbai Indians were still on track in the IPL (and dabble with the newfound interest in blogging)!  

Gadget challenged!

Once you pick up a gadget, it comes with its paraphernalia- that’s the whole problem! We need the laptop, the laptop needs a charger and the charger needs an adaptor for European style sockets. That’s how the luggage multiplies and ensures that our backs are broken! The camera needs batteries and a truckload of them since we don’t want to carry a charger for rechargeable batteries, the camcorder needs a charger and an adaptor;  it also needs cassettes for replenishment - now you get the idea…. It is a hair splitting exercise (and a wire splitting one) to keep just these gadgets in good humor. When it comes to cell phones, it’s the same issue. Two cells phone are minimum, you need to retain an Indian SIM card, a French one for receiving calls, another Italian one for the same and to complicate it, a separate UK SIM card to make outgoing calls!

Next, come the vouchers- There are separate travel vouchers for taxis, trains and planes. There are hotel vouchers for each day. There are vouchers for each guided tour. Sometimes, we purchase additional metro passes and bus tickets as well.  

And of course, I haven’t spoken about the passports that you need to hang onto as dear life itself. It is a bewildering amount of detail that you need to keep track of everyday so that you don’t do something silly and mess up the entire trip! Thankfully, Usha is programmed to handle this. There have been times when I would be seized with a panic attack- where did I keep the hotel voucher for our stay tomorrow? I just saw it in the black folder and it isn’t there presently!.... Oh, you just put it in the strawberry short cake bag a moment ago- would come the reply! I never contest a woman’s ability to multitask. Men are typically clueless when it comes to handling detail. They are meant to potter around in the backyard wearing a tweed coat and corduroy trousers like Lord Elmsworth does at the Blandings Castle!

The children have easily been at their best. They enjoyed when they should and put up with hiccups without protest. This trip is for them. 

We are approaching Dubai as I type these lines. In a few hours, we will be home.  It will be great to catch up with Cricket, with work, with conversation at work, with painting, with music and with discourses! I love routine! Meenakshi temple, Meenakshi mall, Shopper’s Stop, Bannerghatta Road… never did all of you appear so inviting! Italy can wait. Bangalore, here I come!

Vatican

Today was dedicated to the tour of the Vatican.  About 98% of the people who tour Italy, visit the Vatican-about 24,000 people a day during the summer months! Tourism surely is one of its main strengths.

We boarded the tour bus and in 15 minutes crossed the Tiber River and entered Vatican, a separate country!

Vatican has its own postal service, tax system, security and even a radio station. We’re told that the Vatican lost a lot of land when Italy invaded it and is now left with just this area. The country is small, but the state is very big- we’re told. We presume it refers to the influence of the church which is of course world wide.

There is a fortress all around it, a secret passage way for the pope to escape in case of an attack and even an intelligence agency for security. The best museums in the world are in the Vatican. There are separate sections for Greek and Egyptian collections. We spent a lot of time in the Greek section.

In the course of viewing the exhibits, the guide took pains to communicate a lot of interesting tidbits about Rome, its original inhabitants and the pope. This write-up is based on those points as well.

Who are the Romans?

Truscans were the original inhabitants of this area.  Now, that’s the anglicized name. In Spanish, for instance, even now, they are referred to “thruska” (‘u’ as in put). It seems they came from Asia Minor.

(An aside point: Need to check out Mahabharata. If memory serves me right, we have references to ‘turushka’. Were these the Tuscans/Trunscans? I always thought Turushka refers to people around Turkey and possibly Turkmenistan whom we call Turks. Now, that would be Asia Minor. Possibly, we are talking about the same people. A research topic.)

As in other places, Italy too seems to have had non-native population who occupied the land and later contributed to its history. But the migration from Asia Minor was in the Iron and Bronze Age going back to about 1500 BC. Now, all this is the guide’s pearls of wisdom. Don’t quote me on any of this. Like the Aryan invasion of India theory, I’m sure there are alternate views which go contrary to this.

 Greek influence on Romans:

As per the guide, the Romans borrowed a lot of ideas from the Greeks including their sculpture. Hence, at many places, it was pointed out that either a replica of the same work is in Greece or Greek artists specially made this for the Romans. Romans seem like the Americans of those days. They wanted to be the biggest and the best. The obelisks and granite bath tubs were transported right out of Egypt. The guide joked that if they pyramids could have been transported, it would have been right here in Rome!

Maps!

Before entering the Sistine chapel, we spent time on a corridor (on an upper floor) with hand-drawn maps.  The maps are essentially about Italy and its areas of influence. Drawn about 500 years ago, it is accurate and is easy on the eye (unlike modern maps) with some amount of perspective thrown in while delineating mountains and towns.

We learn that Italy essentially has the shape of the English letter T. The Alps form a barrier in the North and run East-West. The Apadian (spelling?)  mountains run North-South and Rome is on them. Rome is less than a 100 km from the Western Sea and about 120 odd km from the eastern Adriatic Sea and about 1000 km from the Southern ocean front at Sicily (Need to verify this last point, though the guide mentioned it. Is Italy so long in the North-South direction?). The River Tiber flows though Rome. Hence, the name “Rome” or “Roma”- A city served by river and seas.

The corridor is really long and has some of the most wonderful paintings on the ceiling as well.  Apart from the Sistine Chapel, this would rank as one of the best parts of the Vatican that we could see.

Sistine Chapel:

The Sistine Chapel is a massive hall with paintings everywhere.  It is a riot of colors; men and women strewn around in every possible posture and expression. It takes some effort to make sense out of it all.

 Paintings from the Old Testament are on one wall, from the New Testament occupy the other. The entire third wall comprises Michelangelo’s famous work- The Day of Judgement. The ceiling is covered with another of Michelangelo’s renowned work- Genesis. This is the broad division.

Michelangelo was about 33 when he painted the ceiling- Just a few years after he completed his monumental work David. Twenty-eight years later, at the age of 61, he was again called to paint the Day of Judgement. 

Genesis:

 Genesis, on the ceiling, has the work we’ve seen in a number of places- The Touch of God where we see Man created in the image of God, illustrated through the touch of the finger between God to the right and a reclining man (Adam?)  on the left. Adam and Eve figure in another panel. Beyond that, it is tough to decipher unless you’ve done some prior reading. Michelangelo ensures that it is a jaw-dropping experience! Definitely, we are awestruck at the brilliance of the work, but because it is so high, you have to crane your neck which causes your mouth to open and your jaw to drop automatically!

The position of this work on the ceiling makes it very tough to view it for a length of time without feeling a strain on the neck. We wonder how the artist actually painted it.

Day of Judgement:

This work occupies the entire wall. Jesus has a different get-up altogether. He appears as a muscular, young man with no features that we normally associate him with. The artist appears to have taken the liberty in coming up with this new portrayal. Other than him and Mary, the rest are human figures all over. We are told that Michelangelo painted the whole scene on paper on the ground in one year, traced the outlines out on the wall with this reference and completed the painting on the wall in another 3 years. The colors are rich- The blue in the background stands out as if painted yesterday. It is hard to believe that this work is 500 years old.

It was mentioned elsewhere (previous blog) that Michelangelo did not like painting. His passion for sculpture is seen in this painting. Each human figure is painted with chiseled features and with attention to human contours that sculpture especially demands.

The pope:

Once out of the Sistine Chapel, we spent some time admiring the layout of the courtyard, St Peter’s Church and the activities of the pope. The pope addresses a gathering every Wednesday (except summers) from a particular podium, he waves to the crowd through the second window from the right and he appears at a specific balcony once he is appointed as a pope. We also see the chimney through which black and white smoke emerge when the jury casts votes for electing a new pope. The consensus or the lack of it will be seen from the color of the smoke so that common people can watch the progress of this election.

These details might have excited a more devout person, but we register the facts well and move on. It is a great view as seen from St Peter’s Church- an obelisk at the center from Egypt, a circular structure with columns in the distance and a huge, open square. 

St Peter’s Church:

St Peter’s church is impressive. It has a huge dome and constructed in a way to rival the height of the nearby hill. The pillars on the outer façade are really huge. We observed uniformed Swiss guards in orange and violet manning the premises. 

Lost individual:

A parallel thread was running alongside this entire Vatican tour (like a confusing Mani Ratnam film plot). One of the members of the tour group couldn’t find her friend after entering the Vatican premises. Hence, the conversation had to move back and forth from Rome, its history and the Pope to this individual who had to be traced as well. There were descriptions on when this individual was last seen, whether she had gone back to the gate we started from etc. Also, the group had a contraption where by all members could hear the guide but not the other way. Hence, messages had to be sent from time to time to this lost individual (as though talking to an extra terrestrial life-form!) who could hear us (hopefully) but who had no way of replying! Given the fact that the guide was switching back and forth between English and Spanish as well, the concoction was truly an avial  (South Indian dish with every blessed vegetable thrown in) of sorts! More than that individual, it is we who were lost at times!

Rome

We’ve reached the last leg of our trip- Rome or Roma as it is called locally.

[Aside note: Many English names suffer from a rear-end chop in spelling/pronunciation. Roma in Italian is Rome in English, Marco is Mark.  It’s like the rear-end chop in Hindi. Acharya Kripa (short sound of “a” not “aa”) becomes Krip in Hindi, Karna (short final “a”) becomes Karn (or worse Karan!) in Hindi. In contrast, South Indian languages are like Italian- adding unnecessary trailing letters- Krishnan, Krishnaa! Hey, who is to say which is correct?]

Don Bosco!

As we get out of the station in Rome, a Don Bosco bookshop is seen across the road. There is a black and white picture of the saint hung in the shop, which can be seen from across the road. As a past pupil of Don Bosco High School, it is a feeling of genuine pride. The contribution of the school in shaping us the way we’ve eventually turned out, is immense. It is simply baffling that a century ago, some enterprising folks affiliated to this group should start from here, cross the seas and land up in a completely foreign land (and the associated culture shock!) and set up educational institutions in Mumbai, Kolkata , Chennai and other places.  They were indeed pioneers.

Lugging luggage one more time:

Taxi drivers in Rome are similar to the ones in India. They don’t want to drive to a location nearby with no scope to make money. More than one convinced us that the hotel is walking distance if we take the opposite exit from the train station. We fell for the bait- another bad decision.

To lug five fairly big pieces of luggage with 2 kids over a distance of 800 m is not easy at all. We were worn out by the time we reached the hotel.

Roaming around Rome:

Rome was not built in a day. But to attempt to see it in a day is even more futile. The city is vast and complicated with several places of tourist attraction. Also, we lack the familiarity which made navigating Paris easy. Roman history churns out several names, all of which sound familiar, but chronology eludes us at the nick of time. Nero, Caligula, the Caesars, Constantine, the Byzantines, the pagans, the crusaders are all wound to Rome in some convoluted way, but we need to shake the dust off the history books to get a good grasp.

At this point in our trip, we are like the mediocre student sitting for a Calculus exam. The questions are bewildering, the skill-set at the student’s disposal is limited and time at a premium. Cracking the exam paper is out of question. The student solves the obvious questions to just pass the exam!

We take a decision to go with the guided tours that we have been booked for. The rest of the time, which is little, we will try to cover the most obvious ones. The remaining places, well, it will just have to wait!

The coliseum:

The coliseum was not too far away. Took a bus right up to it. The stone skeleton of the coliseum is still intact. It has arches in multiple layers. Time obviously has eaten into the structure, but it is still in a shape where we can wander around at different levels. The audio guide was too detailed; our attention span limited. But it was good enough to get some insight into the details of the structure.

It was inaugurated in the year 80 AD and served as a venue for gladiatorial fights- where man fights exotic wild animals, sometimes unto death. It was built by King Vespasian and his son Titus. It was named coliseum because there was a colossal statue of King Nero which was later converted into a statue for the Sun God.

About 50000 people could sit and watch this spectacle. It was the IPL of those days! The base of the Coliseum is called “arena” because it is covered with sand. (I believe arena means sand in Latin.) Below the arena were a set of underground chambers used to store animals as wells as weapons for the gladiators. These chambers are still intact though the arena is gone and being restored currently.

Lots of dots have to be joined by our imagination to appreciate this place. It seems the entire coliseum was covered by a canvas awning hoisted by some 250 poles atop the structure.

There are references to holes in the arena through which animals and warriors could be raised from the underground chambers (as though by a lift).

Classes of people were segregated and made to occupy levels according to their status in society.  The coliseum fell out of favor when Rome embraced Christianity. The coliseum was neglected and the marble from here was taken away for construction else where. We cannot follow why they couldn’t have replaced gladiatory sports with something more graceful. That way, the coliseum could have still been put to use.

Soon, we have had enough. It was extremely windy and cold which made it difficult to hang around for more time.

Illuminated Rome:

In the evening, we went on a tour of the city under lights. The bus took us past quite a few landmarks which we could quickly tick off.  In particular, we spent time at the Trevi Fountain and the Novona Square. 

Trevi Fountain:

Trevi Fountain had a festive look in the late evening. It was milling with people, all of whom follow a particular ritual- They toss a coin behind them in the water so that their wish comes true. I’m not entirely sure whether we can wish for anything or whether the rewards are fixed- someone mentioned that 3 coins are tossed so that we can get back to Rome, get married and then get divorced. Whatever- It didn’t quite tickle me.

The fountains are lit and the water gushes out surrounded by a host of marble statues.  We are told that Neptune is at the centre and represents the ocean- He is an old man who points to something in an animated fashion. There are other figures which are supposed to convey the various moods of the ocean. The guide has an alternate explanation that the four figures stand for the four seasons.

It is termed Trevi fountain because three roads meet at this point. 

Novona Square:

It was quite late by the time we reached Novona Square. It has two impressive marble sculptures by Bernini. Bernini came after Michelangelo and accounts for some of the most moving sculptures in Rome. The square (piazza) was lively even at this time. People typically have a gelatti (ice-cream) in dark chocolate flavor for which this square is well known.  Also, there were plenty of artists drawing portraits for a price- 40 Euro. Others specialized in caricatures and some with scenes around Rome. It made for interesting viewing.

The rest of the places were a blurr. The Old Roman wall, the old ruins, the coliseum, the Roman Forum and Palatine Hill, the Capitol, the Tiber River, the island converted into a hospital, the Capitol, the balcony from where Mussolini announced Italy’s entry into World war II, St Peter’s Basilica and Vatican, the fashion street in Rome- We drove past all these places in the luxury of our bus seats.  By 10:30 pm, the trip was done and we were back at the hotel.

The images are too fleeting to form an opinion about Rome. We have one more day.