To the Cathedral

Youthfulness has an enviable energy that is very hard, almost impossible to match with growing years. Career and job pressures, alongside familial commitments make you deprioritise tasks very easily. Then, you find reasons not to attend to a task, in contrast to younger years when you find reasons to accomplish the seemingly impossible.

Why am I rambling thus? I just drove past an imposing cathedral with a tall belfry graced by a statue of Mother Mary, that shone in amber golden lights at the onset of dusk. It immediately reminded me of something very similar I had seen years back. Atop a hill, beyond the old port, at Marseilles.

Marseilles (pronounced ‘Mar-say’) is the second largest city of France, one of the oldest cities of the continent, and a cultural melting pot on the Mediterranean, attracting travellers and migrants from all around the Mediterranean, as it must have been doing so, for millennia.

We had a hyper active day whereby we had trekked along the precipitous blanched paths of the Calanques de Sujiton for a large part of the day; we only returned towards the evening to catch a fiery carmine sunset on the waters of the sparkling old port. At this age, a corpulent parent of kids would end up at a waterside restaurant and hydrate his body with sparkling water, and soul with the best Shiraz, But back then, what would be the best option for a group of travel-hungry blokes? Despite trekking the entire day (With a heavy red suitcase, mind you), they would decide to hike up a steep hill and tick off the Notre Dame cathedral, that was the insignia of the city. Even when it was closed for the day. Just thinking about it might make some of us feel exhausted.

Boku, showing the highest degree of rationalism in the group, had feebly protested, ‘Why do we need to go up hill again?’

The rest of us had ample responses:

‘We have three hours to while away before our train to Bordeaux,’ said one

‘Arey! It is the most important edifice of the city, the symbol of Marseille! We HAVE to check it.’ Emphasized Map-Boy

‘Because it is there,’ came the Hillary-ism from yet another.

Peer pressure, Boku succumbed while I had to motivate him, Lakshya style, ‘Woh Pahar, woh humara lakhsya hain.’

And we walked, all the way up 3km, from the harbour.  Unbelievable by today’s standards. Shiraz would shift to expensive champagne, but shoes would not point towards the hill.

I remember it was a steep, gasping walk up the hill – but the views from the top was incredible. From that vantage point, the city lights sparkled like scintillating bokehs of gold.

The cathedral was closed (thankfully), so we perched on a platform and kept staring at the majestic lights. The tower was lit up with white lights, and a golden statue of Mary holding the infant Jesus, looked down on the entire city, justifying its name, Notre Dame de la Garde – our lady of the guard.

Despite the absolute drainage of energy, our banter continued.

‘Imagine’ I had started, ‘two thousand years back, you could stare at the seas, and find Phoenician merchants coming from the east….this is how old this city is!’

While the others were perhaps forcing to tolerate these weird factoids, Daddu had to correct, ‘Are you sure they would be Phoenicians from modern day Lebanon, or would they be Phocians from modern day Greece?’

‘Bakwaas hain!’  Nishant had to step in, ‘This place is deserted, lets head back to town.’

Boku, by now having been convinced of the mistake of caving to our demands hit back, ’It will be good, because even if they come after us, I cannot run any more, I will hand over everything, and better still, ask them to shove me on the ground, At least, I will be able to lie down and get some rest…’

We didn’t get agitated, no egos were punctured, no rights were wronged – we all laughed heartily. And decided to head back, assuring that the downhill walk would be easier.

Empty stomachs, aching muscles, tired souls, yet the intent to push and see the world, that was youthfulness. The need to stick together and walk uphill from the Vieux Port, that was friendship. And the willingness to keep dragging yourself up the hill - Under the Mother’s watchful eyes, that was a pilgrimage. Nothing untoward happened, we all came down the hill to the town, had a bit of grub, and were in time for our next journey.

As I write this today, on a late Friday night, after a very tiring day, I can almost resonate with the exhaustion of that day. But what is missing are the props of jovial friends, who can joke while sharing history and assure you that another 5 kilometres is a cinch. As if drinking from a portal in time, I can almost feel my energy rising.

The energy that I referred to earlier, perhaps then was a combination of age and friends, the latter strongly ameliorating the former. It was not just youthfulness, it was the collective energy.

Of course, it is that simple. As Ratan Tata once mentioned, If you want to walk fast, walk alone, but if you want to travel far, walk together.

In the landscape of time, the blokes are still walking together, uphill, downhill, under the watchful eyes of Mary. The pilgrimage continues, irrespective of age. The energy flows over time and space, and the conversations start exactly where they were last dropped…

 

7^th November 2025