A Cow-Eating Hindu Goes to Argentina
By M.P. Prabhakaran
My long longed-for visit to Buenos Aires took place in November 2001. I found the Argentine capital beautiful, just as I expected it to be. The streets were clean, compared with those of New York. People, especially women, were elegantly dressed. There were no visible signs around, except lots of empty tables in restaurants, to back up the stories in the media of the impending collapse of the country's economy.
When a country's economy is in a shambles, one expects to see beggars on the streets, especially in big cities. I didn't see many, except an occasional one that approached me at a restaurant table and handed a card carrying the message that he or she needed help. There were also those who made their help-seeking less offensive by selling something in return. I am referring to the street performers I came across at various pedestrian crossings.
They were mostly teenagers. They would wait on the sidewalk until the traffic stopped at red light, then suddenly jump onto the street, in front of the first row of vehicles, and begin their performance--juggling of balls or sticks, torch display, dancing or just clowning around. On Avenida 9 de Julio, the widest avenue I have ever seen in any city, the performers took advantage of the fact that the red light was on for long, long enough for pedestrians to cross from one end to the other.
A few seconds before the light changed back to green, they would stop their acrobatics and approach the occupants of the vehicles, with their hats stretched out in supplication. Strictly speaking, they were not begging. They were requesting that the entertainment they provided be paid for. Very often they were paid for by the irritated motorists in the form of a shout, a stare or, on rare occasions, a few coins.
I could hardly imagine that, while I was wandering around, taking in the beauty of the city, the International Monetary Fund was meeting in Ottawa, Canada, to explore ways of saving Argentina the embarrassment of defaulting on its debt repayment to lending institutions. As it turned out later, the IMF efforts were in vain. The country did default, in December, on its public debt of $141 billion, thereby besmirching its name on international credit markets. Since then, people taking to streets demanding jobs, back wages, money they deposited in the banks and, sometimes, even food became daily occurrences in Buenos Aires and other major cities of Argentina. So far (by July 2002), the riots resulting from the economic crisis have claimed 37 lives.
Solitary Saunters on Julio Avenue
But the place was peaceful, at least on the surface, when I was there. After savoring the sights and sounds of the city for five days, I felt that I hadn't had enough. I wanted to do more of those solitary saunters on the well-laid-out Avenida 9 de Julio. I wanted to visit San Telmo, the part of the city known for its flea market overflowing with antiques and for tango dances at most street corners, at least one more time. So the day before I was scheduled to depart from the city, I went to the Varig Airlines office to enquire whether I could postpone my departure by a few days without incurring any additional cost. [The answer was no, unless I was willing to pay one hundred dollars extra. As I was traveling on a shoestring budget, I decided against it. But the visit to the airlines office was rewarding in other ways.]
While waiting for my turn to be called to the airlines' counter, I asked a woman sitting next to me whether she spoke English.
"What a relief!" I said when she replied yes, "hardly anyone speaks English here."
She threw a contemptuous look at me, which was understandable. While my question was a legitimate one, especially in a place whose native language is Spanish, the remarks I made in response to her reply were uncalled for. And how stupid of me to make those remarks! At the time I made them, I had with me a copy of Buenos Aires Herald, an English daily published from the city. I should have known that it was published not for occasional travelers like me, but Argentines like her. I was relieved when she laughed away my faux pas and decided to continue the conversation.
"Are you from India?" she asked me.
I have heard that question times without number from foreigners familiar with Indians' features. But coming from a person living in a city where Indians are a rarity, it had a different effect on me. I began to like her.
"Yes, originally from India, but now living in the United States," I replied, my stock reply every time that question was put to me.
"I can tell, you are no Gandhi," she said, squinting her eyes to see my reaction. She had begun to endear herself to me.
"You are absolutely right," I told her, "if I were Gandhi, I would be living in India and doing something for the less fortunate there."
She then went on to say that she was at the time reading the Spanish version of Freedom At Midnight, that famous book about India's freedom struggle written by Larry Collins and Dominique Lapierre and published in the mid-nineteen seventies. As could be expected, she was all admiration for Gandhi who dominates the book from beginning to end. She also said what she thought about the other personalities that figure prominently in the book: Nehru, Jinnah and Mountbatten. She thanked me for correcting her when she said that Mountbatten was the only one among them who was still alive. "He was shot to death several years ago by Irish Republican Army terrorists, while out at sea boating," I told her.
La Recoleta Cemetery
In a few minutes we became more than mere acquaintances. She gave me the addresses of a few must-see places in Buenos Aires and then asked: "Did you visit the cemetery of the rich and famous in Argentina?"
She was referring to La Recoleta Cemetery, a visit to which is invariably included in all conducted tours of Buenos Aires. It is 13-1/2 acres in area and considered the costliest piece of land in all of Argentina. The cemetery contains rows and rows of mausoleums built in memory of many famous (and infamous) people in Argentina's history--presidents, politicians, soldiers, authors, etc. The size and showiness of the mausoleums were in proportion to their stations in life when they were alive.
I told her I had visited the place. She fairly summed up my opinion of the cemetery when she said, "Couldn't they have found a better way of spending the money?" Then she added, "What do you think about Eva Peron's tomb?"
"Too small for her ego," I said. "Her ego deserved something that would surpass the Taj Mahal in size and architectural splendor. And how presumptuous of her to expect us to cry for her!" I was alluding to the epitaph on Eva Peron's tomb: 'Don't cry for me.'
She burst into a big laugh at my allusion and said: "That was my reaction to the epitaph, too."
After I finished my work with the airlines official, I waited until she finished hers. I wanted to continue talking with her. I told her so and invited her to coffee, pointing to the McDonald's round the corner. She said she had to rush to a job interview. She had lost her job as a chemist in a local firm a few days earlier.
But before rushing off, she managed to find just enough time to launch a tirade against McDonald's: "Did you see the invasion of McDonald's here? The beef the McDonald's sells is an insult to Argentina. We have the best beef in the world."
She was exaggerating only slightly: Argentina is known for its high-quality beef and Argentines for its "compulsive consumption," to quote R.W. Apple Jr., an editor at The New York Times, who is also known for his food reviews from around the world that are as delectable as the food he reviews. According to him, an average Argentine's annual consumption of beef is about 130 pounds, more than twice as much as an average American's.
While parting company, she advised me not to leave the country before tasting Argentine barbecued steak. "It's world-famous and it's genuine steak," she said, placing her right palm on the part of her body to indicate where the meat was cut from to prepare the steak.
She suddenly fell silent. After a few seconds she continued, with an expression of guilt on her face: "I am very sorry, it is beef. Please forgive me. Aren't you a Hindu? I know the cow is supposed to be sacred to Hindus. Please, I didn't mean to offend you."
The profusion of apology and expression of guilt made me say to myself that the cow-worshiping Hindus have done a wonderful job. I placed my hands on her shoulders, looked straight into her eyes and said: "You are talking to a cow-eating Hindu."
She broke into a big smile. I thanked her for the wonderful conversation I had with her and said goodbye.
Since then she has been the second Argentine I think about a lot. The first place is still held by Gabriella Sabatini, the tennis star of the 1980's. The only time she fell from the pedestal was when she grunted while serving the ball.
[First published in July 2002]
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