Chat with an Austrian-Muslim woman determined to remain modern (Travel with MP Prabhakaran)

(This is Chapter 18 from Mr. Prabhakaran’s book, An Indian Goes Around the World – I: Capitalism Comes to Mao’s Mausoleum, which we have been serializing in this space. Chapter 19, “Manneken Pis and the Fuss Over Its Portrayal in Air India Ad,” will be published next week. Read the series every Monday. – Editor)

Learning from the experience of those who had gone on similar tours before me, I had decided to travel at night as much as possible. Traveling at night has two advantages: one, you will have more daytime for yourself to explore the new place you are going to be in, the next day; and two, for less money than what you pay at a hotel, hostel or bed-and-breakfast place, you can get a berth on a sleeping car on any long-distance train. In other words, you are saving time and money by traveling at night. But be prepared for an occasional disturbance on the train and the loss of sleep resulting from it.

I was not expecting any disturbance when I boarded the train at Vienna and found, to my pleasant surprise, that I had the entire six-berth sleeping car for myself. I went to sleep right away, hoping to sleep all the way up to at Frankfurt. At Frankfurt, I was to change over to a Brussels-bound train.

But the luxury of sleeping alone in a space meant for six did not last long. It was interrupted by someone rattling away on her cellphone. Though I was slightly annoyed in the beginning, the interruption turned out to be something I should thank for. Not just because the person who caused it was an attractive young woman. That was an additional factor, all right. But what made it pleasant and memorable was the subsequent conversation I had with her.

Talking, Giggling

I was watching through the corner of one eye her talking, giggling and, at times, stamping the foot on the floor of the train. Though I didn’t know a word of what she was saying, because it was in German, I knew she was all excited. She was fair, blond-haired and blue-eyed. She was wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt. The light color of the lipstick blended well with her complexion. She appeared to me as a full-blooded Austrian.

“Are you going to Frankfurt?” I asked her, as soon as she got off the phone.

“No, I will be getting off at the next stop,” she said. “I got into this car because I saw some vacant seats here. I don’t have any reservation. I grab any seat I can find during my daily commute between work and home. I am an intruder here. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Why should I mind?” I said. “I paid only for one berth. Moreover, who in the world would mind a pretty girl like you sitting next to him?”

“Thank you,” she said, and gave me a beautiful smile.

“Now I know you also speak good English,” I said. “I heard you speak German on the phone. What do you speak at home, English or German? How different is the Austrian-German from the original German?”

“No, I speak Arabic at home,” she replied. “My parents are from Syria. They immigrated to Austria when I was just one year old. That was twenty years ago. I am very much an Austrian now. An Austrian-Muslim, I mean.”

“You mean you are religious?” I asked her.

“Yes, in the sense that I believe in Islam and follow the religious practices to the extent possible. To the extent possible, because working full-time as a hairdresser and attending business school in the evening make it impossible for me to pray five times a day. So, on weekdays, I pray once or twice and ask Allah for forgiveness for the ones I missed. But on weekends, when I am at home, I do it all five times. My parents tell me that such exemptions are permitted in exceptional circumstances. ‘Allah is always merciful. Ask for his forgiveness whenever you feel you have done something wrong,’ my father keeps telling me. Both my parents are religious. They have read the Koran from cover to cover. They say that many things in the Koran were practicable only in the seventh-century Arabia. According to them, our religion needs reforming. We keep such opinions within the family circle and go about living our lives like other Austrians.”

 Exposed Midriff

 â€œYou are lucky you have such enlightened parents,” I told her. “Let me get one more curiosity out of the way. I like the way you dress. But do your parents approve of it?” I didn’t specify it, but I was referring to her exposed midriff. Her low-waist jeans exposed part of her buttocks, too.

“So far, they haven’t said anything about my dress. My mother teases me once in a while, though. ‘Darling,’ she used to say, ‘you are asking for trouble.’ My parents know that the profession I have chosen requires me to be modern, not only in mind but in appearance too.” Then she posed this question: “How many Austrian women would go to a hairdresser who appears in a head-to-toe shroud?”

“You are expressing the kind of sarcasm I feel for the Taliban- and Wahhabi-imposed Islamic dress code,” I told her.

She laughed. Then she opened up another personal side of her life: “In fact, I left my first boyfriend because he kept insisting that I give up jeans and T-shirt and dress in traditional Islamic ways.”

“Is he that bearded variety?” I asked her.

“No, he is clean-shaven, always in jeans and T-shirt himself. Moreover, he drinks heavily, rarely prays and rarely goes to mosque, even on Fridays. And he wants me to move around like a black tent. I pointed out his hypocrisy during our last meeting that led to the breakup. ‘Shame on you,’ I told him before I walked away.”

She started getting a little agitated. “Is he a Syrian, too?” I asked her.

“No, he is a Turk. Unlike me, he was born and brought up here. His parents came from Turkey years before he was born. When we met, he was not like this. He was as cosmopolitan as any Austrian boy in our class. His transformation began lately. I think the turning point was the American invasion of Iraq. He is a disgrace not only to Austria but even to Turkey. In fact, I told him so a few times.”

I could relate to that. Most Turks that I know are progressive-minded Muslims. They keep their religious belief strictly between them and Allah.

“Your ex-boyfriend symbolizes a new trend: young Muslims enjoying the facilities and privileges provided by secular, modern societies, and then falling into the traps laid by fanatics like Osama bin Laden. Until this most-wanted criminal in the world is silenced, the trend will continue. By the way, who is your new boyfriend?”

“He is of Jordanian descent,” she said, “a modern Muslim like me. An Austrian-Muslim, I mean. He is a gentleman. He treats me as an equal. He also has problems with many things in the Koran. Actually, the person I was speaking with was him. He is more fluent in German than Arabic. That’s why you heard me speak with him in German. I am sorry I was so loud that I woke you up. My boyfriend is concerned that I am late. There is a 15-minute walk from the train station to my house. It’s a pleasant walk. It’s safe and I enjoy it. But he is concerned. He is coming to the station to fetch me. He is a gentleman.”

“I am happy for you,” I told her. “And I wish you all the best in the new relationship.”

At that point, the announcement came about the next stop, where she had to get off. She thanked me for the “wonderful conversation” and shook hands with me. Accompanying her to the door, I said, “Would you mind telling your parents one thing for me?”

“What is it?” she asked.

“Because you spent the past 45 minutes with a guy who is not related to you, you are going to be punished by the mullahs with 100 lashes. The punishment is prescribed in the Koran.”

“My parents have some choice words for those mullahs,” she said, laughing. “But if what you say is true, it strengthens the arguments of my parents, me and all my close friends about the need for reforming our religion. But none of us have the guts to argue openly. I envy those who have.”

I gave a peck on her cheek and said goodbye. Watching her exit the platform, I said to myself, “What a wonderful girl! If all Muslims were like her and her parents, Osama bin Laden would have to look for another planet to find followers. And Islam, in its reformed form, would find relevance to the modern world.”

Photo: 1

The author, in a city-owned and -operated garden in Vienna, Austria. Public gardens and parks, with facilities for recreation and relaxation for people, are numerous in Vienna.

photo 2

The Westbahnhof train station, Vienna, Austria. This was the hub from which the author took train, every day, to various parts of the city during his sojourn in Vienna in the summer of 2008. He was carried away by the efficiency with which the station ran its operation and its squeaky-clean environs. (The picture is reproduced courtesy RAILEUROPE)

(To be continued)

chapter 16:
Monuments in Mexico City that pose challenge to the US (Travel with MP Prabhakaran)

15

What makes Islamic Turkey different from Islamist Saudi Arabia

14) Garbage dumps and traffic jams in the Silicon Valley of India

see also: 13
A humbling experience in a Laotian Town
(To be continued)

(M.P. Prabhakaran can be reached by email at [email protected])

12
A morning walk by the Mekong; A restaurant named after my niece

Chapter: 11:
A jacket and a bride for the price of one: Shopping on Nanjing Road (Travel with MP Prabhakaran)

10:
How a Shanghai neighborhood got an Indian name

9: 
Capitalist celebrations in Communist China – on May Day (Travel with MP Prabhakaran

8) Capitalism Comes to Mao’s Mausoleum – But in Its Crude Form

7) Picture of a cow on Beijing billboard confuses a Hindu (Travel with MP Prabhakaran)

6) Yoga on Copacabana, conducted by a Brazilian beauty (Travel with MP Prabhakaran)

5
Hunchback and sugar loaf: Two tourist attractions in Rio de Janeiro

4) 
How Portugal failed to colonize Calicut: Chat with a Brazilian

3) Brahma and Laxmi reincarnate in Brazil? (Travel with M.P. Prabhakaran)

2) Eva Peron’s tomb is too small for her ego (Travel with M.P. Prabhakaran)

1) My Two Embarrassing Moments in Buenos Aires (Capitalism Comes to Mao’s Mausoleum-1: M. P. Prabhakaran)
http://dlatimes.com/article.php?id=40709

(about the author) An Indian Goes Around the World – I (Capitalism Comes to Mao’s Mausoleum)http://dlatimes.com/article.php?id=40126

The author, in a city-owned and -operated garden in Vienna, Austria.