Koh Qaaf Ke Parizaad (Fairy-Children of The Caucasus)

Two weeks ago, I had the pleasure of visiting Georgia or, more precisely, the city of Tbilisi.  Uncharacteristically, I deviated from my airport-hotel-office-airport routine and took some time to venture forth and learn about the city’s rich history. A single day is not enough to discover a world (cities are that – worlds in themselves) but if one watches, listens, smells and feels generously and with compassion, one may imbibe the spirit of the place if not its entire soul.

Google and Wiki have abridged life’s adventure. What can I tell you about Tbilisi that they have not already condensed, scripted, de-humanized and secured? You don’t need to know that Georgia was part of the Soviet Union, that it now aspires to become a member of the EU, that it has gorgeous, lush green mountains.  But plain facts have never interested me any way.  I’m a seeker of the obscure, an explorer of what was lost, a traveler in time to the glory – or the misery – that was. 

My narrative is also highly contextual.  Sometimes without meaning to and often against better judgment, I juxtapose experiences against that which defines me - Pakistan. “Tbilisi is like Bhara Kahu!” I exclaim as we wind our way up the hill to Jvari Monastery. “5th century AD? Nice! Taxila is 6th century BC, my home is 45 minutes from it!” I name-drop unabashedly. “No crime? You mean zero? Like I can leave my laptop right there, lying invitingly on the back seat? Hmm…well….not where I come from…I’ll just carry it with me.” I mumble.  My instinctive but tasteless “mine is better than yours” game shows me up as my world comes up short on several counts.


My fellow traveler named – what else – George, is a 22 year old Autocad expert who turns tour guide over weekends to earn extra bucks.  He has a rock band, lives with his dad and stepmom (gets along well with her he tells me), and doesn’t pack an umbrella even though he knows it rains a lot in Tbilisi, as it did on our day. “Good tour guides carry umbrellas George, never leave home without one” I admonish him as I would Billu.  Unlike Billu, George does not argue.  He apologizes for the slip up and promises to drive us right to the Church entrance. We are on a Monastery tour and he is on first name basis with all the priests in all the Churches, so they will not mind if we drive into the main courtyards. “Wasta” applies everywhere, even with Orthodox Churches. I never say a word about my own thoughtlessness of not bringing a hotel umbrella. I’m like that, I just don’t own up to my mistakes – very Pakistani.



George has no idea what Bhara Kahu is or where Taxila exists, but he smiles graciously, acknowledging my chatter. By the end of our journey, as we sit down to his choice of meal - authentic Georgian cuisine - we are friends and he is curious about my world. “Pakistan? Oh, India!” and I wonder if when my Indian friends travel they are confronted with a similarly exasperating comment “India? Oh, Pakistan!”.

My four days in Tbilisi do not amount to a substantial tour, but they were enough to be captivated with the land and the people.  Here are a few things you may not know about Georgia. I haven’t checked but I’m hoping these are original data points which have not yet been Googlized.
 
1. As a child, my staple reading diet was all that was connected with Koh Qaaf, the Mountain of Caucasus. Ammi told me that all fairies originate in Koh Qaaf, and that they were all beautiful.  Abbi would describe how a Dev’s life was held in a parrot; kill the parrot, kill the Dev – otherwise do what you may but the evil Dev would not die! Once, Amir Hamza married Koh Qaaf ki Shahzadi. I wondered a bit about the growing number of wives my favorite hero was acquiring but forgave his recklessness in view of his excellent choice of the latest.  I wanted to be Koh Qaaf ki Shahzadi even if it meant being carried off by the evil Dev whom Amir Hamza would kill via proxy-parrot, and eventually ending up in an Arab harem.  Feminisim came to me late.

2. Georgia is a proud member of the Caucasus region. So it is Koh Qaaf of my childhood – how delightful is that! Georgians do not appreciate being referred to as Central Asians or Russians and insist that they should be called Caucasians.  Ironically, most of them express surprise when told that the world defines “White” people as Caucasians, that our international woes may be born of the divide between Caucasians and those who are not. To Georgians, Caucasian is simply their ethnic identity and not a declaration of superiority.

3. George is to Georgia what Lee is to Korea, what Wong is to China, what Zaib is to Northern Pakistan. Every second Georgian male is either Giorgi or George.  If you are in Naran-Kaghan and you shout “Zaaaaiiiiibbbb”, most of the street vendors will drop their chores and mob you with “Jee Baji?” because they are some form of Zaib – Alamzaib, Shahzaib, Jahanzaib etc etc.  So it is in Georgia. If you don’t know the name just say George; there is 80% chance that you got it right.

4. Georgia is known for its sparkling water “Borjomi” which it exports to many countries, especially Russia where it has been the preferred choice since Russia discovered the springs in ski resort nestled in the Bakuriani mountains.    “The sweetest spring water in the world” they claim and, factual or imagined, I believe I tasted the sweetness.   The irony is that while Borjomi is proud identity to Georgians, it is now owned by the Russian Alfa Group.  “The Russians they bought it……&$%F@$kd*…..!”

5. A simple question like “So, what language do you speak…Russian?” could cause a mild avalanche, so never say “Russian”.  Georgians are anxiously trying to live down their years with the Soviet Union and nothing irks them more than disrespect for their language which was sidelined in favour of Russian during their dark years.  It’s a phonetic language (meaning you write it as you say it, not like English where you may write one sound and utter altogether another). It has between 30 to 40 alphabets (depending upon which region you may be referring to) which gives them a representation of pretty much every sound there is to make.  Written, it looks to me like Thai script.  Spoken, many words sound rooted in Sanskrit, e.g. kidney beans are “lobiani”, “kachapuri” is a cheese-roti/puri, but Georgians insist that their language is rooted neither in Latin, nor in Arabic or Sanskrit.  My colleagues at work proudly exhibit their command over complex sounds such as “Kh” and “Q” the Urdu way.  “You will fit right in with the Pathans” I tell them. Predictably, they smile in response – as if they believe similarity with a Pathan is a good thing.

6. In Tbilisi, there are some beautiful churches commissioned by a 12th century monarch. Her name was Tamar and she is known as the only “female king” of Georgia. If you search for her, you will find her listed as “Badass Queen” who was crowned as a teenager and whose father taught her to “unflinchingly decapitate any of the douchebags who tried to f… with their royal line”.  Lesson learned; dads can be awesome mentors, being badass is a good thing, and girls are super heroes who can do anything.

  
7. I didn’t find Georgian food appetizing.  Growing up on what is arguably one of the most multi-layered, refined cuisines in the world – South Asian (yes I could make a case for it even against French, Mediterranean or Thai) – I am not easily taken by what many nationalities may consider heavenly food. Georgian food is about cheese and pork, neither of which I find compelling. As cheeses go, Georgian cheese would come in behind many others, and as for pork, well, I’m Muslim so while I may commit the worst sins in the world eating pork can not possibly be one of them. Consequently, when George suggested we sample some “Khinkali” I responded “sure, as long as it has no pork, ham or bacon in it”.  George was pleased; “No problem. We don’t eat those, we eat pig! You eat pig, yes?”  We had to settle for safe stuff like cucumber pickle, tomato salad, cheese bread and Borjomi water.    

Nakhvamdis Georgia…until we meet again and find Khinkali without pig.