“What used to be the highest temperature there is the lowest temperature here! Our life is being raped!”
-Sandeep Patwa ‘Sir’
The descent from mountains to sea shore was too fast for my liking – less than a year, 3 months, one and a half days. The sweaters are all neatly packed in the trunk and I am perspiring profusely in the relentless sun. Beads of sweat are running all over my forehead and my handkerchief is damp already. I am sitting in an air conditioned room!
The evenings are thankfully blessed with a nonchalant wind from the sea. They bring with them the inescapable smell of stale fish and fresh flowers of mogra. Both of them are integrally, part of life here. Fish and rice is understandably staple food for the coast, yet the heavy presence of mogra startles me a bit. Perhaps there are miles long plantations for mogra somewhere in the inlands which escape my eyes still. The silvery white fish and the slowly-decaying-into-cream white flowers reflect a very small part of the pallor of the soul of the place.
This immaculate paleness stirs the vivacity in life here. From the crisply pressed shirts to the veshtis everything is immaculately white, almost mirroring the character of people. Although, it seems to be an obsession too. The morning faces are made up with lotions and powders, unmistakably marked white. Perhaps, this is a vain attempt to cover the natural tan or to imitate the superstars who rule the hearts here.
The sun has however not been able to tan the integrity of work here. The sense of following laws is obvious here, unlike north. The drivers ask you to tuck your elbows inside vehicles, no shopkeeper gives you bills unless you have spent money worth that, phhewww…I hate it sometimes! But the good thing is that public walls are painted with idols and one has to find a public toilet for peeing or even spitting. Although newspapers are filled up with stories of people getting killed violently. Some things don’t change across India.
The biggest barrier amongst the people for me is language. The natives speak their mother-tongue only with which rest of the India is not familiar, and they (most of them) do not know what the rest of the India speaks. Actually, I think some of people do speak and understand Hindi well, but they refrain from speaking Hindi in public places, especially when it comes to helping north Indians. The hounds of cultural-moral policing are everywhere. But you can easily identify whom to ask for directions – the ones wearing pleated trousers, crisp shirts, thick rimmed glasses and sporting heavy mustaches generally speak good English and are more often than not found to be reliable. For the ones wearing checked lungis, supporting heavy paunches in front and even heavier mustaches on faces, I am trying to learn the native language. I started with thank you (Nandri) and sorry (Manichidum), surviving the jibes of my fellow natives that I am starting with two words that no one uses anymore.
I am starting to fall in love with the ‘naariyal ki chutni’ here, although rest of the food is too monotonous and ricey for my liking. The walls of food and language have not stopped me from forming bonds though. The mobile retailer I go to for recharges, talks in English and asks me if I am growing fond of this place or not. His wife brings water for me every time I come, something I noticed she does not do for other customers. His kids have started calling me anna and they learn Microsoft Office in their school. A general store wali Amma near my house can talk in broken English. She shows concern about my choice and inquires me regularly if I am eating properly at my company canteen or not. She even scolded me once for buying coke and almost forced me to swap it with Amul Milk. I guess Ammas are same everywhere in India.
The rotis cost as high as 18 Rs. and sometimes I am bogged down by the sheer magnitude of frustration. I miss my college, the weather, the friends, the fun, the food and the Hindi newspaper…But then, this is also India, this is also Home. This is the 6th state I am dwelling in, wondering which one shall be next…
I am in Chennai, Tamil Nadu, and I am loving it, well, almost…
