The “snooty” French by K.J.S. Chatrath

 

The “snooty” French
by K.J.S. Chatrath

I was visiting an amazing town in France called Lorient for my research. This is the town from where the French used to embark on their colonial missions. It was also the place where the riches from the colonies arrived.

On a somewhat pleasant day I took the first ferry from Lorient and after getting down at Port Louis, walked for over 2 km to reach the main gate of the museum of the “Compagnie Des Indes” (The French East India Company) located in an old citadel. I was there by 9 a.m., which I thought would be the opening time of the museum.

I found the main gate closed and some painters busy with their job. And as it happens in Europe so frequently, the next moment it started raining followed by a rather strong breeze. Not prepared for this, I stood shivering under the archway of the gate wondering how this place would have bristled with activity and every bit of conversation laced with references to India — my India. My chest somehow swelled a little.

Quietly, a black car had come and the occupant parked it in the parking space and was walking towards the entrance. We wished each other. I told him that I had come from India and wanted to visit the museum. He apologised and informed me that it was a holiday and he had just come to see the repair work which was going on at the main gate. He advised me to come the next day. In the meantime the rain had stopped and I slowly walked back towards the ferry and was in Lorient in about an hour.

Next day again I was on the front gate of the museum at 9 a.m. and bought the entry ticket. On mentioning that I had come from India, I was advised to go to the room of the Director, I presented myself before the Director of the museum. We at once recognised each other. He was the person whom I had met at the gate the previous day. He personally took me around various sections of the museum. The museum was a bit disappointing with its seeming emphasis on its collection of the Chinese porcelain.

We ended our little tour back at the reception desk. The receptionist was a middle aged lady, rather quiet but was handling her job with amazing efficiency. The Director presented me with a few booklets on the museum. We said goodbye to each other and he left for his room. I lingered on at the reception and chose a nice poster for my son. When I wanted to make the payment the lady at the reception gave me a polite smile and refused to take the payment. “You are the first visitor from India that I have met”, she said and added, “Keep it as a souvenir from France”.

I thanked her and left as the lunch hour had already begun. I crossed the main gate and found myself to be the only person on road going towards the sea.

The sea was roaring, a strong wind was blowing and it was raining persistently. I was thoroughly drenched, a small umbrella having failed to give me any but moral cover. I soon discovered that with the strong gusty wind, the umbrella itself was more of a liability than help. I stoically folded the umbrella and let the rain and wind have me. I never heard a car slow down and stop next to me. I didn’t pay attention and kept walking till I noticed the car moving side by side and a hand waving furiously at me from the half closed window pane. I stopped and took a little while to wipe my specs to see what the matter was. It was the same lady from the reception. “Sorry for the terrible weather” she said sounding fully convinced that she was responsible for the pouring rain. “I will drop you at the ferry” she added. I mumbled a half audible “Merci” and boarded the car, making the seat as wet as I was.

“Oh I am so sorry” she said again, “I should have asked you if you had conveyance when you came to me.” A few bends of the road, a few minutes and a little more of conversation later she dropped me near the ferry and waving an “Au Revoir” drove back towards the museum. For a few seconds, I just stood there in the rain wondering why the French are called reserved, snooty and unhelpful?

(First published in The Tribune, Chandigarh, December 26, 2006.)