From Russia with Love -- Part 1

---

Red Square and the St. Basil’s Cathedral - 6 May 2009

We have just returned from Moscow with love brimming up in my heart for this beautiful city. Avi too, underwent a change of heart by the Moscow’s beauty, though 37 years back, he had declared it as the most gloomy, drab city ever. The reason being that this time we visited it in the summer whereas, he had spent a miserable 3 months of bleak winter there 37 years back and during those three months, he had spent 18 days in The Botkina hospital after an emergency appendectomy.

I suppose whether you love or hate Moscow depends upon when you visit it. If you visit it in spring or summer, when it is all lush green and lovely; you are likely to fall in love with the city. This happened to me and even to Avi, whose dreary memories of that city during that horrid winter, 37 years back, were overlaid with the new, pleasant, colorful experiences. It may also depend upon the company, because this time I was with him.

This time, together we fell in love with the city and with each other again.

Whatever it may be, but we found Moscow the MOST colorful and vivacious city that we have ever visited, and mind you, we have visited quite a few. However, none of the large cities that we have visited - London, Paris, New York, Tokyo, Los Angeles, Vancouver, Lima, Bangkok, Hong Kong, and our dear old Mumbai - have the sort of colorful, cheerful city center that Moscow has. The dramatic, cobbled Red Square and red, green, yellow medley of colors of the Kremlin walls and towers, take the cake when it comes to comparison between city centers.

The word ‘cake’ reminds me of the inimitable St. Basil’s Cathedral right in the Red Square. The Red Square itself is large and grand. Moreover, it has lofty, majestic structures on its three sides. The tall walls of Kremlin and the clock Tower dominate the right side, dwarfing the huge Lenin Mausoleum just below it, while the equally impressive, massive façade of GUM soars on the left. The brown-red Historical Museum behind is no mean building either. However, despite these structures vying for your attention, the cynosure of all eyes is still the cute little St Basil’s Cathedral (or Basilica, as it is called) at the far end of the huge Square.

As I entered the Red Square from the Resurrection Gate, my sight became fixated on the ensemble of gaily painted, outlandishly shaped domes and spires at the far end, which is the Basilica. It was unlike any Cathedral that I had ever seen. It was hard to think of it as a religious structure, because, upon my word, it looked more like a confectioner’s cart loaded with goodies rather than a cathedral.

Everybody loves the Basilica.

The Kremlin may be the centre of political power, GUM may represent the economical might, the Historical Museum may pride itself on erudition, but none of them have the charm of Basilica, because the Basilica is what everybody’s childhood dreams are made of.

It is the gingerbread and chocolate cottage -- complete with sugar window-panes, giant ‘softy’ ice-cream cones, orange icing, candy-floss and lollipop decoration and creamy white Vanilla scoop with streaks of red strawberry jam running down it -- straight out of the fairytale of Hansel and Gretel.

I believe that is why the Basilica is so beloved of everybody. People may not think of it in those terms consciously, but subconsciously, they identify it with the childhood delights of confectionery. The simultaneous assault of the colors and shapes of the Basilica on the senses ensures instant attraction while even its friendly small size and apparent ‘jumbled up’ appearance amid the intimidating giant, symmetric structures, reassures the child within us. It is as though it says to us, “it is alright to be naughty.”

The Basilica is simply magical. No wonder it has become so much of an iconic emblem that every book on Russia had its photo on the top cover.

I decided if ever I have a children’s birthday-party at my place, I will order a cake in the shape of a scaled-down replica of the Basilica. The children would love it because it embodies the childhood yearnings. (This is not meant to be an offence to Christians.)

As I sat on the steps of ‘Lobnoe Mesto’ looking at the Basilica, eating potato chip and drinking Coke, I half expected a stooping old woman to come out of the door and say, in honeyed tones “Please come in, my children. Don’t be afraid.”

{I read the history of the Red Square and Lobnoe Mesto after I visited it and quaked to find that I had sat on the ‘place of executions’. The red Square has seen quite a few executions and bloodbaths, but that is not the origin of the adjective ‘red’.}

No wicked witch came out of the Basilica, however. Instead, the very antithesis of a wicked witch, a sweet, plump, old woman looking like a fairy Godmother, came and asked me in Russian “Which language do you speak?”

Now, don’t get me wrong. She asked me this question in Russian but I understood it perfectly well because both I and Avi have studied the Russian language for one year in the BARC Training School. We are quite familiar with the Cyrillic script and though we cannot claim to know the Russian well, we do understand simple Russian phrases.

However, I could not answer her in Russian, so I pointed at myself and said, ‘Indianka’, and asked her whether she spoke English.

Regrettably, she could not but that did not prevent her from sitting next to me and attempting a conversation, and would you believe it, she succeeded. She told me that she was a local Muscovite and came to see Basilica very often.

We sat side by side and looked at the Basilica with adoring eyes. At one point, I pointed to it and said “isn’t it beautiful? Krasivaya!”

She corrected me tentatively and asked “Krasivo?”

“Da, da” I said, nodding my head.

After some time she indicated that she wanted to walk around the Basilica (The sign language comes to rescue when all else fails.) and invited me to do the same. Together we walked towards the Basilica and around it, admiring it.)

After that I showed her the map and indicated to her that I wanted to walk on the bridge across the Moscow River, south towards the Canal but she had to go to Northern suburbs and so we parted company.

She would have been a great company if we had a common language.

According to my plan, I walked on the bridge and had the best view of the Basilica and the Kremlin from the top of the bridge. I also had glimpses of those colorful little churches on the St. Barbara (Varvarka in Russian) road and golden ‘onion’ domes of several churches on the south side of the canal. Then I took the Metro from Novokuznetskaya station and went to our hotel near the Pavletskaya station.

---