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Home > News > Opinion News > Article > I spire with my little eye

I spire with my little eye

Updated on: 21 April,2019 06:52 AM IST  | 
Rahul da Cunha |

I tend to look at urban landscapes through a camera lens, and while the River Seine flowed through it, it seemed too picture perfect for me.

I spire with my little eye

llustration/Uday Mohite

GuideGotta say, I wasn't initially thunderstruck by Paris. Some cities, albeit world cities, can have that underwhelming first impression — Le Paris didn't have the gritty edge of Cairo, the multiculturalism of New York, or the West meets the Middle East blend of Istanbul.


I tend to look at urban landscapes through a camera lens, and while the River Seine flowed through it, it seemed too picture perfect for me. Everything in its place, no rough edges. Quaint without being quixotic. The cultural chit-chat, cappuccinos in cafes, French impressionist cinema: it had all that. It had all that François Truffaut showed in his movies, that Albert Camus wrote about, and Henri Cartier-Bresson shot. Even the Eiffel Tower, as I'd imagined it, was a delicately crafted tower, but not much else.


And then, I encountered Notre Dame. Compared to, say, the Vatican, it was innocuous at first. Solid in structure but lacking in majesty. And yet, like a bee to honey, I found myself returning to this cathedral every day I was in Paris, exploring different aspects. The ascetic, the aesthetic, the architectural. Sitting in front of it, you sensed history, sitting inside, you felt religious, staring at the stained-glass, you felt a structure touched by god, ravaged by vandalism, vast flames, and you felt a simultaneous calm and churning. Eight hundred and fifty years of history coursed through your veins. It was the church where Napoleon was crowned, where Victor Hugo created The Hunchback of Notre Dame, i.e., Quasimodo.


But, what got me wrapped around its finger was that steeple. That 305-foot spire, looming into the sky, Gothic architecture at its most eloquent. This vertical masterpiece defined the Paris skyline, and defined how I felt about this great city.

I went to the top and encountered a series of animated stone structures called gargoyles: birds, dragons, monsters, all of us collectively looking out at the city. Le Stryge, a thoughtful gargoyle surveying Paris, its head in its hands, proud and judgemental. Others more mythical. Some laughing, one spitting, others looked bored, feeding on prey, or just grimacing. (What would they say, if they could talk, one wondered?) There was Wyvern, a winged two-foot dragon breathing not fire but water. It's ironical that Game of Thrones, the ultimate medieval fantasy, launched its final season the day Notre Dame, the ultimate medieval cathedral, was burning.

As the French mourned for their beloved symbol of Christianity and comfort, much like the Americans felt when the planes flew into the Twin Towers, I thought about Paris. From a city, almost toffee-nosed at one point in its 'Oo la la la'-ism, it has had to overcome difficulties, first with the Charlie Hebdo killings. And now this. But President Macron is determined that the Notre Dame will rise again from the ashes.

Not for nothing is she called Our Lady of Paris.

Rahul daCunha is an adman, theatre director/playwright, photographer and traveller. Reach him at rahuldacunha62@gmail.com

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