It's not that I am superstitious but....

Finally after a month or so, I overcome my growing lazy attitude, and try to recollect one of the most thrilling experiences I had in my life. And not hard to guess, such a thing had to happen during the same old saga of French Exchange which has really become a highly populous region in graph of my life, when plotted for erratic and original experiences.

So this is about our trip to the city of Marseilles, second largest city of France and one of the most populated one’s, with some very nice cathedrals, Notre Dame and Beaches. Now the most important part associated with this trip was the lots of advices given to us by various people, both Indians and French and known for their French experience about the city of Marseilles. The city being one amongst the few in France known for its disorder in terms of law and some ordeals during nights like robbing, street fighting, eve-teasing and similar anti-social activities by some anti-social elements. So though it was not advisable to have a night stay in Marseilles, that we had already planned, it was strictly suggested not to loiter out in streets out of the hotel room after the sun sets, and avoid contacting strangers, who in Marseilles are famous for taking adventures in harassing people. But one after the other the advices came only after we had booked out hostel in Marseille and tickets for the next morning, so that nothing could be changed. But still trying to be brave heart we decided to continue our plans sticking to some extra caution.

So with bags packed, six of us get up early morning of 26 September, the day of Ashtami in India. Previous day, my mother had called me up and said to pray to Mata Ji in my mind after taking a bath and before eating anything. But that day as soon as I took bath, my brain oblivious to my mother’s command and my stomach not used to be stirred at such hour of the day (4:30 am) started having cramps and I immediately munched some bread with butter for the breakfast. Just before leaving our apartment for the station when we were just checking our tickets etc., our dearest fellow pinak remembers that he would like to have some milk. He pours some in his glass, with we all making fuss over him making everyone late, and swoosh he just slips the bottle (he always admits that his motor cells are not well developed) to spill the holy liquid over the floor. It’s not that I am superstitious, but later when I recollect the events to come, such a start doesn’t appear to be a very hilarious one indeed.

Hence we leave for our destination, reach there to meet 3 more of our buddies, as planned. We have a look into the city churches and cathedrals. While we were walking along the old port of the city, Bipul finds two neat 20 euro notes lying on the road side. After trying to look half-heartedly for the owner, we start celebrating our luck immediately. Though Akriti was a bit nervous about finding such large amount of money like this (40 euro = Rs 3000), we had already started planning for a party. But the black clouds had already started casting their shadow. Very soon we were almost thrown out of an Indian restaurant, Varun just saved himself after tripping while mounting a very steep staircase to notre dame, I get lucky enough not to be unlucky when at notre dame I saved my jacket which was finding its corner in the flame of candles in front of Mary, and while going to our last destination of the day, the beach, our map master bipul confuses over the map and makes us walk through the wound up roads of the city almost twice than that was needed and many of us have hard time at beach when the water made our muscles to cramp, giving us excruciating pains. But such things never bothered much to the travelers’ minds.

It was during one of our usual photo shoot sessions (Courtesy: Cameraman- Rohit and Model:Bhalla) on the beach rocks, that we noticed a distant pinak talking to some one (a stranger) and giving him something from one of our bags. This was high time for quickly applying our safety senses of not talking to strangers and we all scuttered towards him. So this stranger guy, who seemed to be an Indian, was offering help to pinak in case of need, and also asked us that we could stay at his place or his friend's, which we humbly and suspiciously declined as we had our bookings at the youth hostel. He also gave us some free passes for a disco in the city centre. Pinak, always eager to make contacts, got into detailed discussion with the guy, exchanged numbers and then after nudging from one of us, bade him a bye. Tired from the day's travel and beach fun, we decided to first go to our rooms and then plan the later things. After changing, we leave from the beach at a beautiful moment of sun kissing earth at the horizons, preparing to rise in other world.

Taking a tram, a metro and then a bus, we reach with quite a difficulty our hostel, which happened to be in very obscured suburbs of the city. With a sigh of relief we bang the reception windows for keys of our booked room just to receive the bolt from the blue, that due to some reason we would be unable to stay there. Such a situation being nowhere in our plans, we immediately find ourself stranded on a quite street of sub urban Marseille in front of the hostel gate, just with an added company of three californians who were also sailing in a parallel boat to ours. It was already past 10 in the night, and all the stories and cautions about Marseilles had started creeping in our minds. The only good feeling we had was that we were 9+3, and the three being Americans, who ought to be more brave and capable than us. We quickly decide to take some night bus and reach the main city to find some lodging there. So we start walking towards the bus stop. That stride too wasn't peaceful, as twice the pet dogs chained in the roadside houses barked the crap out of us. A pitch black cat just crossed the road in front of us. It's not that I am superstitious, but I let the American to lead, and cross the Lakshman Rekha first. Soon with hopeful spirits we reached the bus stop, which was merely a Lamp post marked with a bus sign. But things were written not to go right. The crazy French system of stopping all services at some fixed hour of night was much advanced in this blessed place, and there was no bus till 4 in the morning. Hark!!

Now we were right in guessing one thing. The americans are braver and more adventurous. But they are also hyper in there actions. Without a second thought, one of them stopped a passing by car asked, for a lift, and three of them zoomed away. On the other hand, we had been trying hard since last half an hour to avoid looking at any night bikist or car driver. As a result here we were back to a strength of 9, 9 iitians who had never thought it worthy to give some time to body building or learning fighting tactics. Very soon we were back to the front and sat near the gates of the same crooked youth hostel. Now unable to come up with plan- B we were completely awestruck. With every approaching bike or car, some of which even slowed down near us, our hearts pounded like hammers. And Akriti had already staring murmuring about the consequences of not giving her ear, when she had warned against picking those doomed 40 euros!!! She also stucked her passport and some cash in her stockings, just in case they had to run. On the other hand Isha was convincing her that according to her kundli she was going to reach India back safely, so they shall be all right.

We sat there for an hour and a half, knowing well that it was almost impossible to stay here for the whole night, without one or two fainting with fear, but we couldn't even set out with nowhere to go. The Californians also called us to tell that they had reached the main city with no accomodation in hotels, so they would be spending their night at the beach (I think the cat got it over them too). Thus they called of wishing us GOOD LUCK. It was then that the same Indian guy (Pramod) we met on beach struck our brains like church bells, and we contacted him (thanks to pinak for taking his phone number). He readily accepted to give us shelter and we took a sigh of relief. The black magic still on its high, road was not easy ahead too. With every radio taxi saying a no for a drive, we were in a fix again. But by God's grace we were finally able to hire taxis, and again after an hour or so of jumbling with the roads of Marseilles, we landed at Pramod's doorsteps. We adjusted ourself in his small room, but could hardly take a wink. The day's happenings and all previous descriptions had etched us so much, that we couldn't completely get rid of the feeling that Pramod also could be a terrorist or something, and mastermind behind our ordeal today!!! It was only when we safely left his place and had seated ourselves for a train to our next destination Montpellier that I was sure that I would live to write this story.