From Russia With Love

Pengba Aruuba Eshingee *

The grumbling for getting visa for only three days had not ended when the Aeroflot aircraft made its way on the runway of Moscow's Sheremetyevo International Airport. The barren land on either side of the tarmac was completely white and the stubborn pine trees were fighting a seemingly losing battle, as the winter sets in with the piles of snow forcing their branches to stoop.

"The outside temperature is zero degrees Celsius," the inflight announcement came and one wondered if things could be colder. There were butterflies in the stomach as one had been warned of the attitude of the Russian immigration authorities about their English speaking skills, or so to say the lack of it.

But as soon as one passed through stern-looking fat lady, what awaited was three memorable days spent with a group of strangers from across the world in a city, the erstwhile capital of Communism, that is now fast trying to embrace capitalism as if there is no tomorrow.

From the airport to the hotel, it took more than one-and-half hours, not because the distance was long but because of the bumper-to-bumper traffic. The Toyotas, Hyundais, Lexuses, Infinitis, Mazdas, Mercedes Benz', BMWs, Nissans, Peugeots, Citreons and Porsches of the world were vying for a space on the roads, so were the native Ladas.

The Intercession Cathedral at the Red Square

On the other hand, Scania, Man, Benz and Volvo were giving the homegrown boy, Kamaz a run for his money in the trucks and trailers lane (nevermind that the vehicles were so dirty that they all looked like they've never been washed after being bought). One wondered if Moscow has always been like that but there was no one to reply as the Russian cabbie had made it clear right at the airport that he only knew 'Yes' and 'No' in English. Our communication was only through sign language.

Little did one realised that how important was sign language going to be during the rest of the stay at Moscow. The group of 30-odd people was a comic mix -- American, French, German, Spanish, Japanese, Chinese and a Manipuri, presenting the face of India to them. The Americans could not initially believe that two similar looking people were coming China and India.

The rest of the group also felt something was amiss. While it was easier to explain it to the Americans, doing the same to the rest of the group was a big test of one's sign language skills. Yet, one can proudly claim that in the end 30 more people now know where Manipur is.

Apart from the self back-patting, the whole process brought Yang Mingzhu, the Chinese based in Paris and who could only speak Chinese and French, closer. He would have easily passed off as 'Ta Tomba' from one's locality. So was the Japanese Kanisue Norito, who could have easily walked freely anywhere in Manipur.

He would have been taken for someone hailing from Ukhrul! The reality, however, was that we could communicate only through sign language. Of course the French lady, Anne Marie Rocco would never look like a Manipuri, although she was as kind as a Manipuri mother.

So, when we went to visit the famous landmark of Moscow, the Red Square, one could feel how excited Ta Tomba (oops Yang Mingzhu) was while paying tribute to Lenin's grave; Anne would try to explain in vain (in French), the history of the Intercession Cathedral.

Even when we walked down the famous street in Moscow--the Arbat -- only hands and facial expressions were doing the speaking. It was the same even during the underground metro rail ride. Nevertheless, it didn't matter what language we spoke, the smiles on our respective faces said it all irrespective of the freezing temperature.

The famous Arbat Street - where no vehicles are allowed

Talking about the temperature, we were told by our host that it was nothing. November is just the beginning. "If you are brave enough, come in January," Nadezha, the blonde Russian, quipped. Her English definitely brought a thaw in the atmosphere.

Being someone, who has seen Moscow under both communist rule and a so called democratic government, she said Russians of today were more much different from those who belonged to the Soviet generation. Nevertheless, the Intercession Cathedral, the Moskva river, the Kremlin, all reminded one of those childhood memories of reading about them on magazines from the then Soviet Union that father used to subscribe.

One really didn't know how the three days went by and when the reality check came in, it was time to hurry up to the airport and get out of the country before the visa expired. Having got a taste of the traffic jam, Asiya Gogoreva, who came to see off, agreed with the suggestion that we took the express train from Moscow to the airport.

The half-and-hour ride was a memorable one. She spoke fluent English and shared a lot about the aspirations of young Russians. Good job, good salary, good life and she was convinced that she was on the way of achieving all of it, like many others. As we bid good-bye, one wondered how many Manipuri youngsters would today feel so confident about their future like Asiya.

The reality is that children back home have not been to school for nearly the past five months. Needless to say, when their education is stalled, there is a huge question mark over their future. They cannot be as lucky as Asiya.

See a photo Gallery on this trip here.

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* Pengba Aruuba Eshingee, a pseudonym, writes regularly to e-pao.net
You can email the writer at penbga[AT]rediffmail[DOT]com
This article was webcasted on November 28, 2009.

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