They hardly get any tourists from ‘Hind’, least of all seven Indian women travelling without a tour bus and a tour operator. Iran is not exactly a popular travel destination thanks to relentless reportage of an apparently oppressive government, its ultra-conservative ideologies, and an impending nuclear deal. So why did an artist, a lighting designer, a communications consultant, a fashion designer, a travel planner, the only Indian woman expat working for the UN in Afghanistan and the owner of one of India’s iconic clothing brands, decide to visit Iran?
It was a combination of curiosity, the road less travelled, a fascination with Islamic art and architecture, and a wealth of resources available on the Internet. Planning is always half the fun in travel. So, our virtual journey began three months prior to actually leaving. We salivated through food blogs, exchanged emails with an Iranian actress (who, it turns out, is quite the celebrity!), watched Iranian documentaries, streamed online photo essays, followed the work of Iranian photographers on Instagram, and WhatsApped friends of friends of friends in Iran. But I’ll tell you this. Not all the research in the world could have prepared us for what we experienced over 10 days in Iran.
Of course, we visited the famed turquoise blue-tiled mosques, shrines and palaces of Shiraz, Yazd and Isfahan. From the outside, they appear like magnificent ornaments set within a perfectly blue Persian sky. On the inside, embellished with the finest geometry, calligraphy and vegetal patterning, in stark contrast is Persepolis — monumental stone ruins of an imperial capital laid to waste by Alexander, the Great. A survivor of that carnage is the wall of processions — a bas relief photo gallery of every gift-bearing emissary who travelled here. Among the 28 nations represented, is a lungi-clad Indian contingent that preceded us by 2,300 years!
Onwards to the city of Yazd, with its wind towers, ancient aquaducts and yes, ice houses, a fascinating journey into mastering life in the desert centuries ago. And then, to that most elegant of cities, Isfahan, famously called ‘half the world’. Avenues of burnished chinar trees lead to 14th century pedestrian bridges where Isfahanis meet, especially at night, to sing, read poetry or just picnic with friends with a sheesha and many cups of tea.
Yes, it was beautiful. And yet, despite all that we saw, if you ask what made our travel to Iran most memorable, it would be its people. The Iranis have got to be the friendliest, most hospitable people on this planet. We were completely blown away with their warmth and unconditional kindness. From the guy who ferried us to our hotel when we merely asked for directions, to the other who drove us to a better restaurant when we stopped by his humble store, to the group of girls who loaded credit on my mobile phone using their account and then wouldn’t take money for it! Nothing quite prepared me for such extraordinary people. And that’s not counting the complimentary dry fruit hampers, dinner invitations to our guide’s home, being whisked off to a special screening of a film (in a palace, by the filmmaker himself), or being cross-questioned about India, in English, by two blind Iranian girls visiting a museum.
But clearly all is not beautiful, just and kind in Iran. We, along with every other Iranian woman, wore a head scarf at all times, except in the privacy of our rooms. In Iran, women are not permitted to sing in public. Pro-government propaganda material surrounds much of central Tehran. Khomeini is everywhere. The Shah is nowhere — his reign completely ejected from public memory. It is not possible to freely make a film, stage a play or express yourself. But petrol is Rs 25 for a litre, the roads have no potholes, broad and clean sidewalks welcome you in the smallest of villages and the largest of cities, there is no garbage anywhere, motorists are rash but no one honks. Because of the sanctions, there are no ugly hoardings, no MacDonalds, no Nike. A 26-year-old Iranian woman has designed the award-winning, avante garde Tabiat Bridge that stretches across a jam-packed arterial road of Tehran. Couples stroll across it, hand in hand, stopping by its open air restaurants and walking into parks on either side, way past midnight.
All through our travels we felt the veil lift, not just on this much maligned and misrepresented country, but also on ourselves as Indians. Are we really that differently off? Do we really have the religious and social freedoms of a secular democracy? Where are the good roads, public spaces, clean bazaars? What have we done to protect and sensitively restore the rich reminders of our past?
The Iranians are very fond of India. We often heard them say, ‘India-Iran, friendly-friendly’. Alas! This bhai bhai story is an ironic one. We appear to share a dangerous affinity for hardline ideologies and a frivolous infatuation with Shah Rukh Khan. But when it comes to good civic amenities, basic public infrastructure and mindful heritage conservation, our filial similarities abruptly end.
The writer quit being a copywriter to follow her passion for travel
