A burqa amid a sea of bikinis at Cannes

It’s a cheerful, sunny day at Cannes, one of the most sought after holiday destinations on the French Rivera, and I’m sitting by the esplanade overlooking the white sandy beach, while my husband and son are away for a dip in the azure Mediterranean Sea.

To observe things from the outside has always enamoured me more than soaking in the sea as this provides me with a rare opportunity of using my precious me-time to introspect and imagine. Children, youngsters and oldies, all euphoric to be in water, are screaming in joy, saturated in the flow of the moment. People from different social strata, economic backgrounds and ethnicities cross each other’s path; at times looking through each other and sometimes exchanging glances. Some of them have shopped and walked out of the most upmarket showrooms the promenade houses such as Balenciaga, Hermes and Louis Vuitton, while others are content carrying their beach tote with crinkly clothes and wet towels. I only anticipate that they feel compassion and empathy for each other.

They all look different, dress differently, speak different languages but there are some emotions that bind them all together, certain distinctive commonalities among the passers-by. All old couples hold hands and are strolling carefree, talking sensitively while their eyes are glued to the titanic sea as if comparing their bygone years with the magnanimity of it. The young couples, on the contrary, are too swift in their walk, they too hold hands and stop for a kiss or halt to observe and soak in the beauty ofthe sea as if dreaming of the years to come but are quick to resume their blabbering and hurried gait.

Then there is my favourite sight, the middle-aged couples with children enthusiastically pointing towards the animated sea and the water sports they witness. I notice most of the women sporting fake eyelashes, nails and even fake eyebrows! I wonder why they have to adhere to all that. Is it to make themselves presentable to society, or is it to appear acceptable in their own eyes?

There are mostly half-clad women around when unexpectedly my eyes narrow down on to something that is the opposite of what I’ve been witnessing. A young mother in a burqa with a baby in the pram and three soberly dressed daughters walks down to the chair behind me. She seeks shelter underneath a tree. I wonder how she feels in a world that is stranger to hers. I’m forced to deduce that there are many mini-worlds existing in one. We all are so different yet so similar.

While I’m engrossed in my thoughts about the divided yet entwined worlds we live in, I’m brought back to reality by my son’s arms around me and my husband’s voice imploring me to hurry up so as to check into a new hotel.

The French summer tan may not have lasted long but I bask in meditative memories months on.

I’M FORCED TO DEDUCE THAT THERE ARE MANY MINI-WORLDS EXISTING IN ONE. WE ARE SO DIFFERENT YET SO SIMILAR