Notre Dame de Paris provided a rhythm to my life. Sometimes discrete, sometimes pervasive, sometimes a few metres away from me, or at a distance of several thousand kilometres like now…
The fateful night, I watched those sad images showing the Cathedral devastated by flames. This building is part of my life, not only as a French and Parisian woman but as a worldwide citizen. Of course, Notre Dame welcomes everyone, and the Catholic faith animates it. But it belongs to no one like the pyramids of the Giza plateau.
My first contact with Notre Dame de Paris was a long time ago: I was only ten years old and I was listening to the musical adaptation based upon the novel Notre Dame de Paris by the French novelist Victor Hugo. Notre Dame de Paris was the place where a battle took place between three men—the kind hunchback Quasimodo, the twisted priest Frollo, and the unfaithful soldier Phoebus fighting for the love of the gypsy dancer Esmeralda. At that time, the cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris represented the stage of this battle, and no more for me.
Two years later, my mother, a pure Parisian, decided to show my sisters and me that Notre Dame de Paris was much more than a song or a simple stage. She was right. It was a huge and beautiful discovery. I remember entering this Cathedral, impressed by its refined architecture. My history classes of the description of the Gothic style came into its full dimension as never before. My eyes did not know where to stop. During our hours spent within, each detail was scrutinised. I was impressed by the multiple gargoyles that I found terrifying and amazed by the stained glass windows and rose windows.
A few years after, while I was working as a lawyer, Notre Dame de Paris became part of my everyday life while I was going to the Palais de Justice located in the heart of Paris on Ile de la Cité. I did not have time to stop to look at the details any more. From a stage to a huge discovery, Notre Dame de Paris became finally an old woman of nearly nine centuries whom I did not take the time to greet.
Today, I regret to have treated Notre Dame as an old woman. It has been nearly one year that I have not seen it, since my move to Mumbai to study Journalism at the St. Paul’s Institute of Communication Education. I learnt that terrible news from the Indian TV channels when it was time to fall asleep. It was published on the Indian news because everyone around the world is concerned. A part of history disappeared that night. Impossible to find sleep.