I wake up...its 6 am...Sunday morning...got to be at church by 8 am...feeling full of energy, decide to take a walk...walk straight down the road in front of my house, past Shiban's house, past the Kowloon and keep going till I reach a wall...touch the wall and start walking back...stop off at Annapoorna and have sambhar vada...eating food alone has its own charm about it, not least coz you can enjoy it fully...walk back, enter the house, say good morning to Inna...talk to her about the previous evening's prayer meeting and about my Christmas in UK...go upstairs...its 7:30 am...Amma and Appa are still in bed...Ammamma and Thatha have just woken up...to be at church on time, 6 of us have to have baths and dress up in 15 minutes...I relax when I realise its India and not the UK...time isn't as precious...we get to church at 8:30...
I see that my favourite seat on the left corner of the last row is empty and hurry to sit there...started sitting there when I was 15, with other boys from Sunday school and made it my home till I left to the UK at 22...settle down and focus on the service...we have a new Pastor, he seems alright...sing hymns from Golden Bells and enjoy the sheer meaningfulness of the lyrics...worship songs that we sing at my church in UK are nice, but nothing comes closer to expressing my deepest spiritual feelings as hymns...look around and see how beautiful the church is, the building and the garden...its very much like a typical classical church in the UK, but it seems even more beautiful coz its in the midst of India...the power of contrast
the service ends and I see Jerene coming to say hi...congratulate her on her engagement the previous day and ask her if she's excited about her wedding that coming Saturday...Natalie's parents come up and say hi...I enquire about Natalie and we discuss which particular tree in the garden Natalie and I climbed after service every week, when I was 4...Vasantha Aunty comes up and tells me she's brought out a book on Neural Networks, published by Springer-Link...wow ! I tell her I would retire if I were her...Mrs. Karunakaran comes up and we talk...her daughter was born on the same day as me and her son has the same name as me...
its time to go to the Youth meeting that my friend Ajay is organising...they've already started singing when I arrive...about 20 people, mostly college students...Ajay seems in command and is doing a good job...we go into a time of worship, led by Ajay...and then, Vasanth gives a message on the characteristics of immaturity...he is clear and powerful, he's thought his message through, believes what he says and says it with confidence...he speaks straight to the heart...I didn't know he was this good...later, my Dad tells me the company he heads is known for its integrity...quite encouraging to see Christians effectively put their faith into practise...the meeting ends and I go speak to Prithveen, probably my oldest friend in church...have known him as far back as I can remember...
the people start a volleyball game nearby, I excuse myself and leave coz Sudhakar Uncle is coming to lunch...walk to the station...have a tender-coconut water on the way...is there a better drink while walking in the scorching sun ? I reach the bus-station, get into the bus and buy my ticket...3 rupees...at least, something is still cheap in India...settle into my seat and again reflect on how the bus looks dirty but feels clean...get down and go home...
Sudhakar Uncle and family have already arrived, but thankfully havn't started eating....lunch is served and what a lunch ! chicken biriyani and pachadi, tomato chutney and mint chutney, carrot halwa...if I was to choose one non-tangible thing to take back to the UK, it would be the ability to make Inna's chicken biriyani...the ability to mix the spices in perfect proportion, so that each can be tasted independently, yet is inextricably part of the whole taste...the richness of the flavour that expresses itself with its smell as much as its taste...the sheer lusciousness of the meat...the momentary climax of the taste-buds as they realise how lucky they are...oh, glorrrrious food !
conversation is about life in the UK...when Sudhakar Uncle was my age, he also lived in the UK and remembers it fondly...last year, he visited the UK and we spent a weekend together...we talk about that weekend, how we hogged in the 'all you can eat for 5 pounds' place and how the waiters seemed relieved to see us leave...and how I was so stuffed with food after it that it was difficult to walk, so had to sit under a tree for a bit...its 2:30 pm and they leave...I start making calls to my friends to organise street-cricket in front of my house...
we've been playing street-cricket in front of my house for 19 years...more than anything else, street-cricket has characterised my childhood...street-cricket is a unique form of cricket and cricket on every different street has its own unique characteristics...every street has its own set of trees from which balls can deflect, bushes where balls routinely get lost and houses whose cranky owners refuse to give the ball back if it goes in...some streets have particularly curious aspects...for instance, our street has a walled-in area with a banana plantation...and sometimes, we have a drunken dhobi lying directly on the cover-drive line and doesn't like to be hit by the ball...and so, the range of possible strokes on every street is limited and every street-cricketer chooses his own range of high-scoring areas and improvises strokes to get the ball into those areas...however, his opposition know his game inside-out and set fields accordingly...street-cricket is a challenge
street-cricket is also about fighting....like field cricket, its about the fight within yourself and the fight between bat-and-ball...but its also about the fight with your team-mates about who gets to bat first, its about the fight with your opposition about a close run-out and its about the fight with your cranky neighbours when the ball goes into their house...finally, its about fighting with the thorn-bushes when the ball is firmly in their grip...
street-cricket is also about improvisation...like field cricket, its about improvising strokes to play to different balls, but its also about improvising a structure out of available materials to construct a set of stumps...its about improvising rules to prevent the balls going into houses and about improvising the order of batsmen and bowlers so that everyone gets a fair chance (the person that bats first bowls last)
it isn't difficult to see how playing street-cricket can make you street-smart
my friends arrive and we have two games...we're 25, but we act like we're 15 - both in our enthusiasm and our immaturity...I bat well in one game, bowl crap in both and notice that my batting has improved after playing in the bowler-friendly conditions of UK...
after the game, we share a big bottle of Pepsi and a friend invites me over to watch a movie...we go to his house, start the movie, start a lively conversation and completely ignore the movie...this friend is the most intelligent of all my friends, the most lazy, the most lucky and the most volatile...we talk about how he got into NLSIU, the best law school in India, and then into the best law firm in India...we talk about how he gave up a salary of 1,00,000 rupees per month and quit his job coz he wanted to do something more meaningful...wildlife conservation...that aspect of him hasn't changed, he always was a bit idealistic...
but another aspect of him has changed...a 180 degree turn...he used to be grounded and mature...he once told me he isn't silly or immature enough to derive shallow satisfaction from something as trivial as drinking with his friends...now, his room looks like something out of a gangster movie...beer bottles on the floor, an ashtray full of cigarette butts and the lingering smell of cigarette smoke...he rolls a joint and starts puffing...I've tried hard to understand how somebody so clever can also be so stupid ? my only theory so far is that all the attention from the St. Joseph's girls that came to Stanes in 11 std. got to his head and made him feel infallible...or is it something even deeper ? could it be that he's trying to fill up the God-sized hole in his heart with cigarettes, alcohol and marijuana ? I decide to give him a Bible before I leave...
I come back home and put on the TV...NDTV is showing Sachin Tendulkar meeting and training with the National Security Guards...he earnestly emphasises that the NSG and not him, are the 'real heroes' of the country...how lucky my generation is to have a role-model like Sachin...has there ever been a successful sportsman who was more humble, mature and committed to his country? its 11 pm...I realise I havn't yet called one of my good friends...I call and she picks up...warms hi's...I feel like walking, so take the house-keys, open the door, go down the stairs, unlatch the gate and go out onto the road, talking to my friend on the mobile phone...
havn't talked to her in a long time, and there seems so much to say...words come out excitedly, continuously and rapidly...her recent news, my recent news...she's getting married this year...she thinks I've changed and likes the 'new me' but also liked the 'old me'...I tell her about how I'm feeling more confident and comfortable with myself than ever before and enjoy her attentiveness and interest in what I have to say...when we talked previously, she used to be the one doing the talking...this time, for some reason, I'm talking non-stop...we talk and talk and talk and talk...platonic conversation at its very, very best...she mentions in passing that I'm good husband material and we talk about the whole love marriage/arranged marriage conundrum...she says she's sleepy and has to go, but suggests we meet up sometime this week...I say I'll call and confirm the next day and say goodbye...I hang up and look around...I've wandered at least a mile away from home...I smile to myself at being called husband material...does she know how much the compliment meant to me ? every young man has insecurities about making the step up from bachelor to husband and I'm no exception...so, when someone you had a huge crush on in school gives you an endorsement, its definitely reason to smile...I put my phone in my pocket, get my bearings, figure out the way home and trudge back...
Friday 6 February 2009
Thursday 5 February 2009
annapoorna food, a prayer meeting and the Stanite Ball
hi there...its Feb 5th and yes, my blog isn't up-to date...but I think I have things under control...just got back from T'pur this morning, went to Ooty yesterday, had gone from Coimbatore to T'pur the day before...these 11 days are being just as jam-packed as I wanted...
I did wake up for the jog on the 31st by the way...in fact, I woke up at 4:30 am and spent the next hour and a quarter waiting till I could call Adarsh and Shiban...called Adarsh at 5:45 am...wrong number...called Shiban...he sounds surprised that I called...says he'll come and pick me up in 15 mins...ask him Adarsh's right number and call again...Adarsh sounds fresh and awake...decide to meet at his house once Shiban comes...
go with Shiban to Adarsh's house...on the way, we pass a slum-like area...goats are tethered to a pillar near a small house...women are filling water in their plastic pots from the common water pump...Adarsh comes out looking satisfied with himself for waking up and announces that he thinks he deserves an Annapoorna meal after the jog...I second it
race away to the jogging area/play-courts near Nehru stadium...go in and decide to walk one around just to warm up...we're definitely one of the lazier groups of young men...reminisce about previous times jogging, abuse officials of Nehru stadium for not throwing it open to the common public and observe the people playing in the play-courts...basketball, football, volleyball...mostly middle-aged men with paunches...lots of shouting...you can make out they're enjoying every minute of it...that they started doing it to get fit but its turned into the most enjoyable part of their days and that they've started doing it on weekends even though the initial plan was to confine it to the week...
the jogging terrain is irregular and random...we weave our way near the football ground and run across the goal, hoping not to be hit...at the far-end, we go up and down a small mound and make two small half-left turns to complete one lap...the walking lap...set ourself a target of 5 laps and start off...Adarsh stays back to do some more stretching...after 2 laps, Adarsh joins us...conversation is sporadic as we focus on trying to preserve our breath...the social pressue exerted by the presence of 2 peers acting as an additional motivator...we finish 5 laps...I fall to the ground satisfiedly, forgetting for the moment that the 5 laps don't even constitute 2 kilometres...Shiban does two more rounds, Adarsh and I talk about management, and we head out...
to Annapoorna, the one near our houses...our refuge for inexpensive high-quality vegetarian food since we were little...for some reason, it feels nice to be going there so early in the morning...we enter and are greeted by the whiff of ghee and dosas and vadas and idlis and pooris...south-Indian cuisine at its most authentic...there are already about 60 people in, sitting around the circular tables...the waiters seem busy but not hurried, the child-cleaners go round the recently vacated tables cleaning the mess...we wash our hands, find a table...I order onion roast, I don't remember the last time I ordered anything else in Annapoorna...it arrives quickly and I tuck in...the combination of the crunchiness of the onion pieces, the crispiness of the roast and the gentle flavour of the sambhar...conversation is about Shiban's pilot career and about friends that have been seen with girls by parents of other friends...I invite them to the prayer meeting at my house that evening, to commemorate my turning 25...and we discuss the Stanite ball that we're attending that evening...on our way out, Shiban picks up an automobile magazine, I pick up a Tinkle, the Indian equivalent of an Archie comic...
dropped home and see The Hindu newspaper lying just inside the gate...why do I always experience a surge of excitement whenever I see The Hindu newspaper for a particular day ? is it because its vivid pictures, clean-cut margins and the optimal balance between white space and black text make for an attractive reading proposition ? or is it because of my being conditioned that way by the countless times I've come down to get the newspaper to pore over the article about the previous day's cricket match, even though I had seen the complete match the day before ? I pick it up and go upstairs...Amma and Appa are having coffee in bed, I nuzzle in between them and turn to the sports-page...habit...
its 8:30 am...have a bath and head out to my Dad's factory at 9:15 am to write notes for my first blog article (after reaching India) ... greeted warmly by the company's second-in-charge...how nice it is when people who work for you also develop a personal liking for you...he enquires about the weather in UK and how I get by for food...comments that I've grown thin and invites me over to his house for pongal...I readily agree...the pongal last time was fantastic...the other factory workers smile politely at me and I smile back...I've always wondered how they viewed me...I'm their boss' son, so they must like me, at least out of loyalty...do they respect me ? they must think I'm intelligent coz of the way Amma goes on about me...do they think they'll work under me some day ? the electricity is out at the moment, so I go to a nearby cyber-cafe to do the blog notes...
come back when the electricity is back, work till lunch time and head back...Ammamma and Thatha are coming soon...along with my little cousin Ajay...I reach home and in 5 mins, I hear Ammamma's voice outside...I go out and see a lanky boy that I don't initially recognise...I look closer...its Ajay !! he's less than 6 inches shorter than me now...he used to hardly reach my knees...his voice has broken and he's 14, a teenager....and I'm 25, a man...undeniably...gosh
we go and have lunch...a very family affair...my parents, my three alive grandparents, Ajay and myself...after lunch, we go up to see the cricket match...Ammamma and Thatha, Ajay and I...I take my customary position in front of the TV...I couldn't count the number of hours I've spent watching cricket from that position, getting up only to relieve the bladder, applaud a Tendulkar century or pump my fist at a wicket by an Indian bowler...I have occassionally sledged the opposition, but sitting down...I like watching my cricket alone...but next best to that, is watching it with Ammamma and Thatha...we talk about how the Indian team has developed a ruthless edge under the new captain Dhoni and how the modern Indian cricketer is more aggressive, confident and in-your-face than their counterparts from previous eras...
its getting to 4:30 pm, so we hastily dress for the prayer meeting and go down...my school friend, also called Ajay, has already arrived and looking particularly anti-social...a common characteristic among my close friends is atypicality and Ajay is a typical case...soon Sudhakar Uncle and family arrive...I go out to meet them and hug Sudhakar Uncle...shake Nalini Aunty's hand...say a warm hi to Rohit...he has cerebral palsy, so he can't talk but he does enough to let me know he's very happy to see me...words aren't always necessary....say hi to Tanya, my newest cousin sister...
soon, the other guests arrive...Franklin Uncle, my father's Christian guide, will be leading the meeting...the hall is full and has a bright, homely feel to it...its time to start but Amma is missing...after 15 minutes, she arrives...she's been dressing up...Franklin Uncle announces we don't have song-books and suggests we sing well-known hymns...after some initial awkwardness, we settle down to sing 'Great Is Thy Faithfulness', 'What a Friend We Have in Jesus', 'Showers of Blessing' and 'This is the Day'...the meeting has acquired a solemn and meaningful tone...
Franklin Uncle encourages us to share things we're thankful to God for...I tense up, coz I know everybody expects me to say something...in fact, it is the central purpose of the meeting...an old Aunty talks about God-given strength after her husband passed away and how God was with her in her recent medal-winning performances in the 70+ Asian Games...she talks boldly and with conviction...what a lady !...applause... a lull...Sudhakar Uncle suggests the 'birthday boy' should say something...nowhere to hide...I start, "I also have a lot to thank God for...", feeling all eyes on me, I continue, "the first is for my PhD funding...its a lot of money and isn't easy to obtain but I was fortunate enough to be offered funding without even applying for it...also, in my last 3 years in the UK, He has been with me...helped me make decisions, find a good church, get good friends...and so many more things....and so, I'd like to thank God for all this"...I look up...and hear applause...Ajay, my friend, is clapping...it must have been good...speaking from the heart counts for a lot...
Nalini Aunty, Appa and Amma also give thanks for different things...Franklin Uncle gives a meaningful message about seeking God first and everything else following on from that...the meeting is turning out just the way I had wished...solemn, meaningful, humble and beautiful...we finish and tea is served...people gather into small groups and chat...Ammamma tells me my testimony was good...and Ajay, my friend, shows my Grand-dad and Adarsh a song he's written...the guests leave and its just the family...
the last time I remember feeling such a sense of family was Thatha and Inna's 50th wedding anniversary...the atmosphere is warm and relaxed...Sudhakar Uncle, Appa and I have a conversation about how genuine (or not) Benny Hinn is...Ajay, my cousin and Tanya call me to play dark-room...I find I'm too big too hide in any inconspicuous space, so I stand out in the open hoping to be mistaken for a cupboard or a lamp-stand...they aren't that dumb
its time for the Stanite Ball, so I get dressed and wait to be picked up...this is the 1st time I'm going to the Ball after leaving school...its a Ball for current and past-students of Stanes School...in school, it used to be filled with excitement...the prospect of the alcohol on offer and of meeting the senior girls that we saw in school and maybe even dancing with them...now, its just about hoping you'll meet some friends you havn't seen in a long time and having good conversation...
the car arrives and we drive to English Club...was it an exclusively British Club during the Raj ? we reach and I feel myself tense at the prospect of such a large social gathering...the music from the dance hall is high quality...Carl Uncle, wouldn't expect any less...enter the hall...most of the crowd is in their 50s...I see a father of a friend...look to my left...spot a senior and some girls who look like they're in school...nobody I particularly want to talk to....make my way through the side door and see an old classmate...relief...we talk about recent news and common friends...congratulate her on the new chocolate business she's started...turn to find a senior, tells me he's about to get married later this year...another one bites the dust...on the far-left, I see my gang, get a beer and join them...
the conversation among my friends is laidback, the odd indiscretion due to rising levels of inebriation...but its difficult to ignore that the general atmosphere in the Hall is sadly lacking...there's a distinct lack of vibrancy, fun, happiness, laughter...any laughter is drunken laughter and the air has the unmistakeable smell of discontent and non-achievement...a brawl between two drunken men breaks out...they're fighting over one of the young girls
Coimbatore has many kinds of people...there are content people, who've worked hard and stood by their principles and done quite well for themselves....they know there are better things out there in bigger cities like Chennai or Mumbai, or London or New York, but they've stayed in Coimbatore by choice...there are other people too...people who are carried away by the prospect of untold wealth and greedily desire it...but don't have the quality or the work ethic to achieve their dreams...their parochial thinking and politicking ways have gotten the better of them and they are in Coimbatore by force, rather than choice...these are also the people who would go to a Stanite Ball, if only to lift temporarily the burden of non-achievement that rests so heavily on their shoulders...
we leave the ball early...and am dropped off by a friend...as I get down from the car, my friend asks if he can vent his frustration about the Ball ...of course he can...for 15 minutes, we talk about the shame of being associated with such a sordid event and how he fears for when he takes his kid to a Stanite Ball in the future, only to be embarassed...we talk about how the generation of our grand-parents had so many respectable people, how the generation of our parents had less of them...how fortunate we are to have respectable parents...how our generation has almost zero respectable people...then, he gives me a huge surprise...he names me among one of 3 people he respects in our generation and stresses he isn't 'just saying it'....I'm thrilled...I've tried hard to build a reputation for uprightness, so this is very gratifying...we decide its time to sleep, decide to gather some friend to play street-cricket the next evening, and say warm good-byes
I did wake up for the jog on the 31st by the way...in fact, I woke up at 4:30 am and spent the next hour and a quarter waiting till I could call Adarsh and Shiban...called Adarsh at 5:45 am...wrong number...called Shiban...he sounds surprised that I called...says he'll come and pick me up in 15 mins...ask him Adarsh's right number and call again...Adarsh sounds fresh and awake...decide to meet at his house once Shiban comes...
go with Shiban to Adarsh's house...on the way, we pass a slum-like area...goats are tethered to a pillar near a small house...women are filling water in their plastic pots from the common water pump...Adarsh comes out looking satisfied with himself for waking up and announces that he thinks he deserves an Annapoorna meal after the jog...I second it
race away to the jogging area/play-courts near Nehru stadium...go in and decide to walk one around just to warm up...we're definitely one of the lazier groups of young men...reminisce about previous times jogging, abuse officials of Nehru stadium for not throwing it open to the common public and observe the people playing in the play-courts...basketball, football, volleyball...mostly middle-aged men with paunches...lots of shouting...you can make out they're enjoying every minute of it...that they started doing it to get fit but its turned into the most enjoyable part of their days and that they've started doing it on weekends even though the initial plan was to confine it to the week...
the jogging terrain is irregular and random...we weave our way near the football ground and run across the goal, hoping not to be hit...at the far-end, we go up and down a small mound and make two small half-left turns to complete one lap...the walking lap...set ourself a target of 5 laps and start off...Adarsh stays back to do some more stretching...after 2 laps, Adarsh joins us...conversation is sporadic as we focus on trying to preserve our breath...the social pressue exerted by the presence of 2 peers acting as an additional motivator...we finish 5 laps...I fall to the ground satisfiedly, forgetting for the moment that the 5 laps don't even constitute 2 kilometres...Shiban does two more rounds, Adarsh and I talk about management, and we head out...
to Annapoorna, the one near our houses...our refuge for inexpensive high-quality vegetarian food since we were little...for some reason, it feels nice to be going there so early in the morning...we enter and are greeted by the whiff of ghee and dosas and vadas and idlis and pooris...south-Indian cuisine at its most authentic...there are already about 60 people in, sitting around the circular tables...the waiters seem busy but not hurried, the child-cleaners go round the recently vacated tables cleaning the mess...we wash our hands, find a table...I order onion roast, I don't remember the last time I ordered anything else in Annapoorna...it arrives quickly and I tuck in...the combination of the crunchiness of the onion pieces, the crispiness of the roast and the gentle flavour of the sambhar...conversation is about Shiban's pilot career and about friends that have been seen with girls by parents of other friends...I invite them to the prayer meeting at my house that evening, to commemorate my turning 25...and we discuss the Stanite ball that we're attending that evening...on our way out, Shiban picks up an automobile magazine, I pick up a Tinkle, the Indian equivalent of an Archie comic...
dropped home and see The Hindu newspaper lying just inside the gate...why do I always experience a surge of excitement whenever I see The Hindu newspaper for a particular day ? is it because its vivid pictures, clean-cut margins and the optimal balance between white space and black text make for an attractive reading proposition ? or is it because of my being conditioned that way by the countless times I've come down to get the newspaper to pore over the article about the previous day's cricket match, even though I had seen the complete match the day before ? I pick it up and go upstairs...Amma and Appa are having coffee in bed, I nuzzle in between them and turn to the sports-page...habit...
its 8:30 am...have a bath and head out to my Dad's factory at 9:15 am to write notes for my first blog article (after reaching India) ... greeted warmly by the company's second-in-charge...how nice it is when people who work for you also develop a personal liking for you...he enquires about the weather in UK and how I get by for food...comments that I've grown thin and invites me over to his house for pongal...I readily agree...the pongal last time was fantastic...the other factory workers smile politely at me and I smile back...I've always wondered how they viewed me...I'm their boss' son, so they must like me, at least out of loyalty...do they respect me ? they must think I'm intelligent coz of the way Amma goes on about me...do they think they'll work under me some day ? the electricity is out at the moment, so I go to a nearby cyber-cafe to do the blog notes...
come back when the electricity is back, work till lunch time and head back...Ammamma and Thatha are coming soon...along with my little cousin Ajay...I reach home and in 5 mins, I hear Ammamma's voice outside...I go out and see a lanky boy that I don't initially recognise...I look closer...its Ajay !! he's less than 6 inches shorter than me now...he used to hardly reach my knees...his voice has broken and he's 14, a teenager....and I'm 25, a man...undeniably...gosh
we go and have lunch...a very family affair...my parents, my three alive grandparents, Ajay and myself...after lunch, we go up to see the cricket match...Ammamma and Thatha, Ajay and I...I take my customary position in front of the TV...I couldn't count the number of hours I've spent watching cricket from that position, getting up only to relieve the bladder, applaud a Tendulkar century or pump my fist at a wicket by an Indian bowler...I have occassionally sledged the opposition, but sitting down...I like watching my cricket alone...but next best to that, is watching it with Ammamma and Thatha...we talk about how the Indian team has developed a ruthless edge under the new captain Dhoni and how the modern Indian cricketer is more aggressive, confident and in-your-face than their counterparts from previous eras...
its getting to 4:30 pm, so we hastily dress for the prayer meeting and go down...my school friend, also called Ajay, has already arrived and looking particularly anti-social...a common characteristic among my close friends is atypicality and Ajay is a typical case...soon Sudhakar Uncle and family arrive...I go out to meet them and hug Sudhakar Uncle...shake Nalini Aunty's hand...say a warm hi to Rohit...he has cerebral palsy, so he can't talk but he does enough to let me know he's very happy to see me...words aren't always necessary....say hi to Tanya, my newest cousin sister...
soon, the other guests arrive...Franklin Uncle, my father's Christian guide, will be leading the meeting...the hall is full and has a bright, homely feel to it...its time to start but Amma is missing...after 15 minutes, she arrives...she's been dressing up...Franklin Uncle announces we don't have song-books and suggests we sing well-known hymns...after some initial awkwardness, we settle down to sing 'Great Is Thy Faithfulness', 'What a Friend We Have in Jesus', 'Showers of Blessing' and 'This is the Day'...the meeting has acquired a solemn and meaningful tone...
Franklin Uncle encourages us to share things we're thankful to God for...I tense up, coz I know everybody expects me to say something...in fact, it is the central purpose of the meeting...an old Aunty talks about God-given strength after her husband passed away and how God was with her in her recent medal-winning performances in the 70+ Asian Games...she talks boldly and with conviction...what a lady !...applause... a lull...Sudhakar Uncle suggests the 'birthday boy' should say something...nowhere to hide...I start, "I also have a lot to thank God for...", feeling all eyes on me, I continue, "the first is for my PhD funding...its a lot of money and isn't easy to obtain but I was fortunate enough to be offered funding without even applying for it...also, in my last 3 years in the UK, He has been with me...helped me make decisions, find a good church, get good friends...and so many more things....and so, I'd like to thank God for all this"...I look up...and hear applause...Ajay, my friend, is clapping...it must have been good...speaking from the heart counts for a lot...
Nalini Aunty, Appa and Amma also give thanks for different things...Franklin Uncle gives a meaningful message about seeking God first and everything else following on from that...the meeting is turning out just the way I had wished...solemn, meaningful, humble and beautiful...we finish and tea is served...people gather into small groups and chat...Ammamma tells me my testimony was good...and Ajay, my friend, shows my Grand-dad and Adarsh a song he's written...the guests leave and its just the family...
the last time I remember feeling such a sense of family was Thatha and Inna's 50th wedding anniversary...the atmosphere is warm and relaxed...Sudhakar Uncle, Appa and I have a conversation about how genuine (or not) Benny Hinn is...Ajay, my cousin and Tanya call me to play dark-room...I find I'm too big too hide in any inconspicuous space, so I stand out in the open hoping to be mistaken for a cupboard or a lamp-stand...they aren't that dumb
its time for the Stanite Ball, so I get dressed and wait to be picked up...this is the 1st time I'm going to the Ball after leaving school...its a Ball for current and past-students of Stanes School...in school, it used to be filled with excitement...the prospect of the alcohol on offer and of meeting the senior girls that we saw in school and maybe even dancing with them...now, its just about hoping you'll meet some friends you havn't seen in a long time and having good conversation...
the car arrives and we drive to English Club...was it an exclusively British Club during the Raj ? we reach and I feel myself tense at the prospect of such a large social gathering...the music from the dance hall is high quality...Carl Uncle, wouldn't expect any less...enter the hall...most of the crowd is in their 50s...I see a father of a friend...look to my left...spot a senior and some girls who look like they're in school...nobody I particularly want to talk to....make my way through the side door and see an old classmate...relief...we talk about recent news and common friends...congratulate her on the new chocolate business she's started...turn to find a senior, tells me he's about to get married later this year...another one bites the dust...on the far-left, I see my gang, get a beer and join them...
the conversation among my friends is laidback, the odd indiscretion due to rising levels of inebriation...but its difficult to ignore that the general atmosphere in the Hall is sadly lacking...there's a distinct lack of vibrancy, fun, happiness, laughter...any laughter is drunken laughter and the air has the unmistakeable smell of discontent and non-achievement...a brawl between two drunken men breaks out...they're fighting over one of the young girls
Coimbatore has many kinds of people...there are content people, who've worked hard and stood by their principles and done quite well for themselves....they know there are better things out there in bigger cities like Chennai or Mumbai, or London or New York, but they've stayed in Coimbatore by choice...there are other people too...people who are carried away by the prospect of untold wealth and greedily desire it...but don't have the quality or the work ethic to achieve their dreams...their parochial thinking and politicking ways have gotten the better of them and they are in Coimbatore by force, rather than choice...these are also the people who would go to a Stanite Ball, if only to lift temporarily the burden of non-achievement that rests so heavily on their shoulders...
we leave the ball early...and am dropped off by a friend...as I get down from the car, my friend asks if he can vent his frustration about the Ball ...of course he can...for 15 minutes, we talk about the shame of being associated with such a sordid event and how he fears for when he takes his kid to a Stanite Ball in the future, only to be embarassed...we talk about how the generation of our grand-parents had so many respectable people, how the generation of our parents had less of them...how fortunate we are to have respectable parents...how our generation has almost zero respectable people...then, he gives me a huge surprise...he names me among one of 3 people he respects in our generation and stresses he isn't 'just saying it'....I'm thrilled...I've tried hard to build a reputation for uprightness, so this is very gratifying...we decide its time to sleep, decide to gather some friend to play street-cricket the next evening, and say warm good-byes
Monday 2 February 2009
a 25th birthday with a twist
after spotting and hugging my parents at the airport in Coimbatore, I also met n hugged my grand-mother, Inna...we made our way to the car...there was Ramasamy, our driver since I was in 1st standard...20 years...he retired in the middle, then came back and ever since then seems to ageing in reverse...my mother puts it down to a diet of vethla paake and beedi...
Inna, Amma and I squeeze into the backseat...our collective shoulders are too broad, so I move my torso forward...Amma repeats the case for a new car...cheerfully now, not exasperatedly like before...soon, we reach the city and I'm greeted by the sight of a tree-less Avanashi Road...the trees were removed to make the road wider...development has its costs...we pass Stanes, my school for 14 years and source of more than half my friends, all my best friends and at least 75% of my best memories...also venue of my most daring deed...the Diwali bomb
up Anna-flyover and down again...rush hour traffic has passed, but the roads are still busy...mad honking but not angry honking...just honking by habit and to make their presence felt...reflecting a honking culture...lorries, buses, vans, cars, auto-rickshaws, motorcycles, bicycles and pedestrians vying for space generally ignoring rules of the road but relying on common sense to get them through...I spot a road-side stall selling tender-coconut water and make a mental note to visit it sometime...we reach the tranquility of Saibaba Colony, make the final left turn and reach the house...
the house looks the same as always...white gate...the coconut tree at the back...I enter the gate and immediately notice that the lawn on the grass has changed...for the better...the blue easy-chair has replaced the cane chair that Thatha used to sit on, waiting for my sister and I to return from school...a new servant comes out...that's 3 consecutive years that I've come back to a new servant...walk into the house, past the hall into my room...check if my chocolate-wrapper collection is intact...it is...all 346 different wrapper-types...the room looks the same, the bed is neatly laid in preparation for my arrival...but for some reason, the room feels too small for me...could it be that I feel metaphorically that I've outgrown it and that's accidentally translating into my physical perception of its size ? or is it that it really is tiny and I just hadn't noticed...
go upstairs and feel the same way...the Christmas decorations are still out...things are much less tidy than my house at 100 Addington Road, Reading....but oh, so much more homely...I go down and Appa and Amma sing me 'Happy Birthday' and cut the cake...as renditions of birthday songs go, this must have been one of the worst...its important to have perspective...
go up to the bedroom, Appa on one bed, me face-down on the other with Amma beside me massaging my back...we settle into relaxed, natural, free-flowing conversation...Inna comes back and its time for lunch...we go downstairs...
sambhar, rice, chicken and potato and chutney...just the memory of it is making my mouth water now...'delicious' doesn't seem an adequate word...maybe heavenly or divine....so filled with taste...I stop talking and concentrate on relishing every mouthful...it isn't difficult...the conversation is lively...social roles well-defined...Amma talks the most but not domineeringly, Inna next, Appa and myself least...but everyone has their say...Appa and I eat the most and finish eating first, Inna next and then Amma...
I get a phone-call...Danie...wishing me happy-birthday...ask him how Chennai is and when he's coming down...he isn't coming down, so we decide to meet in Chennai...next, Vicky calls...asks me if I've been knighted by Queen Elizabeth...I clarify that I havn't but was invited to a dinner at the House of Commons...I congratulate on the high-salaried managerial job he's just landed and notice the tone of measured satisfaction in his voice...we have an interesting conversation about how the marketing strategies that he uses might be improved by a knowledge of how the brain works, which is what I do...we ask each other about any marriage plans and are both relieved to discover no impending plans on either side...he has to go and will call tomorrow...Mukund calls...I clarify that I didn't meet Queen Elizabeth at Buckingham Palace, but was only invited to dinner at the House of Commons, by a meer MP...feel quite gratified that my friends should actually think it possible for me to meet the Queen
I go up and sleep to the sound of gentle Christian music...wake up to the bites of mosquitoes...its 6 pm...Johnny calls...we talk what we always have talked about since I got to know him in 8th standard...girls...which one is recently married, who is about to get married and who isn't yet married...he's going to Bangalore tomorrow, so we decide to meet when he gets back...hangs up...Suna Aunty calls and wishes me Happy B'day all the way from New Zealand...Poornima,my cousin sister also wishes me and talks non-stop for half an hour about her recent holiday, her impending transition to high-school, her love for animals and ambitions to become a vet...also tells me about animals she's nursed...sounds quite impressed when I tell her I'm tranining to be a neuro-scientist...how nice it is to be doing something so impressive :) ...everyone thinks its difficult, but its no more difficult than any other branch of science...should I feel guilty about slightly undeserved respect ?
HONK-HONK, HONK-HONK-HONK !....my gang's honking code...they're arrived outside ! I look outside to see Shiban's lean frame and bald head...go out to see Mukund and Shiban...hugs...man-hugs...cursory hugs with minimal physical contact and tonnes of awkwardness, but hugs nevertheless...we settle into easy banter that is the product of 3 people knowing each other for 20 years...Adarsh joins us and joins the banter...they're going for a movie in half-hour and want me to come...I havn't yet eaten dinner...I go and eat while they wait...dosas and sambhar...
get into Shiban's car and we race off...Shiban likes cars and drives like a mad-man, but with control...the music in the car is loud and stimulating...speed definitely thrills...we reach the theatre and buy tickets...the theatre is a ramshackle dump...no place to park, one super-expensive food stall and a run-down building...but its not decrepit...despite its minimalist nature, there's something clean and fresh about it...inexplicably, it is dirty but the dirt feels like one of the cleaner forms of dirt...maybe I'm just psycho
we enter the theatre hall and find our way to the seats...hard as stone...notice some school juniors of ours behind us...people are talking loudly waiting for the movie to start...we settle into our chairs and put our feet up...what the theatre lacks in convenience, it makes up for with the easy atmosphere...you don't feel like you have to behave in a place that is so patently less good than you deserve...the movie starts...
I discover its a Hindi movie...so, don't understand a word...about half-way, Shiban explains that its about an amateur actor trying to break into Bollywood...he asks me if I'm enjoying it...I explain that I don't understand it but am enjoying the other aspects of the experience...he turns away puzzled...Shiban is especially non-judgmental and I'm grateful for it...the movie finishes...we exit...
after the post-movie chat, we get into our cars and head back...Shiban suggests we go jogging tomorrow morning at 6 am...its about 1 am now...I volunteer to wake us all by phone-calls...I reach home, go upstairs, set two alarms and go to bed, resolving to wake up at 5:45 am in the morning...
Inna, Amma and I squeeze into the backseat...our collective shoulders are too broad, so I move my torso forward...Amma repeats the case for a new car...cheerfully now, not exasperatedly like before...soon, we reach the city and I'm greeted by the sight of a tree-less Avanashi Road...the trees were removed to make the road wider...development has its costs...we pass Stanes, my school for 14 years and source of more than half my friends, all my best friends and at least 75% of my best memories...also venue of my most daring deed...the Diwali bomb
up Anna-flyover and down again...rush hour traffic has passed, but the roads are still busy...mad honking but not angry honking...just honking by habit and to make their presence felt...reflecting a honking culture...lorries, buses, vans, cars, auto-rickshaws, motorcycles, bicycles and pedestrians vying for space generally ignoring rules of the road but relying on common sense to get them through...I spot a road-side stall selling tender-coconut water and make a mental note to visit it sometime...we reach the tranquility of Saibaba Colony, make the final left turn and reach the house...
the house looks the same as always...white gate...the coconut tree at the back...I enter the gate and immediately notice that the lawn on the grass has changed...for the better...the blue easy-chair has replaced the cane chair that Thatha used to sit on, waiting for my sister and I to return from school...a new servant comes out...that's 3 consecutive years that I've come back to a new servant...walk into the house, past the hall into my room...check if my chocolate-wrapper collection is intact...it is...all 346 different wrapper-types...the room looks the same, the bed is neatly laid in preparation for my arrival...but for some reason, the room feels too small for me...could it be that I feel metaphorically that I've outgrown it and that's accidentally translating into my physical perception of its size ? or is it that it really is tiny and I just hadn't noticed...
go upstairs and feel the same way...the Christmas decorations are still out...things are much less tidy than my house at 100 Addington Road, Reading....but oh, so much more homely...I go down and Appa and Amma sing me 'Happy Birthday' and cut the cake...as renditions of birthday songs go, this must have been one of the worst...its important to have perspective...
go up to the bedroom, Appa on one bed, me face-down on the other with Amma beside me massaging my back...we settle into relaxed, natural, free-flowing conversation...Inna comes back and its time for lunch...we go downstairs...
sambhar, rice, chicken and potato and chutney...just the memory of it is making my mouth water now...'delicious' doesn't seem an adequate word...maybe heavenly or divine....so filled with taste...I stop talking and concentrate on relishing every mouthful...it isn't difficult...the conversation is lively...social roles well-defined...Amma talks the most but not domineeringly, Inna next, Appa and myself least...but everyone has their say...Appa and I eat the most and finish eating first, Inna next and then Amma...
I get a phone-call...Danie...wishing me happy-birthday...ask him how Chennai is and when he's coming down...he isn't coming down, so we decide to meet in Chennai...next, Vicky calls...asks me if I've been knighted by Queen Elizabeth...I clarify that I havn't but was invited to a dinner at the House of Commons...I congratulate on the high-salaried managerial job he's just landed and notice the tone of measured satisfaction in his voice...we have an interesting conversation about how the marketing strategies that he uses might be improved by a knowledge of how the brain works, which is what I do...we ask each other about any marriage plans and are both relieved to discover no impending plans on either side...he has to go and will call tomorrow...Mukund calls...I clarify that I didn't meet Queen Elizabeth at Buckingham Palace, but was only invited to dinner at the House of Commons, by a meer MP...feel quite gratified that my friends should actually think it possible for me to meet the Queen
I go up and sleep to the sound of gentle Christian music...wake up to the bites of mosquitoes...its 6 pm...Johnny calls...we talk what we always have talked about since I got to know him in 8th standard...girls...which one is recently married, who is about to get married and who isn't yet married...he's going to Bangalore tomorrow, so we decide to meet when he gets back...hangs up...Suna Aunty calls and wishes me Happy B'day all the way from New Zealand...Poornima,my cousin sister also wishes me and talks non-stop for half an hour about her recent holiday, her impending transition to high-school, her love for animals and ambitions to become a vet...also tells me about animals she's nursed...sounds quite impressed when I tell her I'm tranining to be a neuro-scientist...how nice it is to be doing something so impressive :) ...everyone thinks its difficult, but its no more difficult than any other branch of science...should I feel guilty about slightly undeserved respect ?
HONK-HONK, HONK-HONK-HONK !....my gang's honking code...they're arrived outside ! I look outside to see Shiban's lean frame and bald head...go out to see Mukund and Shiban...hugs...man-hugs...cursory hugs with minimal physical contact and tonnes of awkwardness, but hugs nevertheless...we settle into easy banter that is the product of 3 people knowing each other for 20 years...Adarsh joins us and joins the banter...they're going for a movie in half-hour and want me to come...I havn't yet eaten dinner...I go and eat while they wait...dosas and sambhar...
get into Shiban's car and we race off...Shiban likes cars and drives like a mad-man, but with control...the music in the car is loud and stimulating...speed definitely thrills...we reach the theatre and buy tickets...the theatre is a ramshackle dump...no place to park, one super-expensive food stall and a run-down building...but its not decrepit...despite its minimalist nature, there's something clean and fresh about it...inexplicably, it is dirty but the dirt feels like one of the cleaner forms of dirt...maybe I'm just psycho
we enter the theatre hall and find our way to the seats...hard as stone...notice some school juniors of ours behind us...people are talking loudly waiting for the movie to start...we settle into our chairs and put our feet up...what the theatre lacks in convenience, it makes up for with the easy atmosphere...you don't feel like you have to behave in a place that is so patently less good than you deserve...the movie starts...
I discover its a Hindi movie...so, don't understand a word...about half-way, Shiban explains that its about an amateur actor trying to break into Bollywood...he asks me if I'm enjoying it...I explain that I don't understand it but am enjoying the other aspects of the experience...he turns away puzzled...Shiban is especially non-judgmental and I'm grateful for it...the movie finishes...we exit...
after the post-movie chat, we get into our cars and head back...Shiban suggests we go jogging tomorrow morning at 6 am...its about 1 am now...I volunteer to wake us all by phone-calls...I reach home, go upstairs, set two alarms and go to bed, resolving to wake up at 5:45 am in the morning...
Sunday 1 February 2009
late flights, a-denominational priests and 3 whiskey bottles
back home :D...in the factory of my father's company...my blogging ambitions were dealt a severe blow when I found there was no Internet at home...but a blog-promise is a blog-promise and I did blog-promise to write...so, here I am at a computer in the factory...
the flight back was definitely eventful...reached Heathrow half-hour late because of a fight with the telephone operator of the taxi company...don't even ask...checked my baggage in and before I realised it, was time to board...not before I was refused permission to carry whiskey in my hand-luggage...don't even ask...hehe
found my seat and found I was sitting next to a deaf old man...quite an appropriate neighbour for someone who doesn't talk too much...sat down...5 minutes later, this young Indian girl takes the other seat next to me...not sure whether to talk or not...finally, turn and say hi...we start a conversation about the bad service on the flight, how it used to be better...about her holiday in UK, my life in UK...about college/University life, about society and character analyses on various Bollywood stars...I go to sleep...wake up and we analyse the character of various Hollywood stars, lament on the perils of the modern Indian arranged marriage and decide Air India is the worst airline in the world...
we land in Mumbai...India ! go out of the plane and immediately feel the blast of heat and humidity...India ! I wonder whether I should take off my sleeveless green sweater...decide to keep it on coz I look really good in it...my decision doesn't feel right when I get quizzical looks from fellow passengers...I think I also overheard a kid questioning his mother on the basics of dressing according to the weather...
join a queue for flights to Chennai...'queue' is probably too strong a word...the 'queue' doesn't move forward for 20 minutes...suddenly, it moves and moves fast...its the customs check...I put my stuff into the tray and am berated by the staff for having my mobile phone in my pocket rather than in my hand-luggage..."if you have space in your bag, you should put it there", he reasons...are Indian staff ruder because they care more or just because they're plain unprofessional ?
pick up a new whiskey bottle...20 dollars ! and go to wait to board the flight to Chennai...meet a young Indian engineer...talk about design of medical devices and the Indian economy...am struck by his practical, self-taught approach to thinking inspite of a mediocre schooling and higher education...us Indians have sooooo much potential
there are about 30 people in the room, 29 Indians and 1 Brit...I turn to talk to him and find he is a priest....an a-denominational priest that categorises himself as not falling under any particular denominational category...he's going to Chennai to speak at some religious meetings...hands me his personal testimony on our way to the flight...
I sleep the whole flight...we land in Chennai...it feels even more like India now...more hot, more humid, more populated, more chaotic...rush through the immigration check, go pick up my bags and make my way to the next-door domestic airport...its 4 in the morning...outside the airport, the air is lit by the light from within the airport and polluted by sand granules thrown up by the million people walking through it...reach the domestic airport, find its too early to check in my bag, wonder what to do...
spy an eatery on the right....Indian food ! hurry there only to be greeted by the slightly deflating sight of the range of British food - puffs, patties, rolls...decide to buy a veg samosa coz its the most Indian thing there, also buy a fountain pepsi...50 rupees in total ! is inflation in India so high or is it just that airport prices are inflated ?
find a seat in a collection of seats in front of a TV screen showing NDTV news...the seat is almost under the screen, so looking up at it feels vaguely like it might feel to look at the Eiffel Tower from below...needs the neck to be craned...not just my neck, but the necks of all people in that collection of seats...bad human-centered design...wouldn't be acceptable in the UK...us Indians just seem to settle for less...but are we any less happy ? does good human-centered design make the UK a happier place ? or does it spoil them and create ever-increasing expectations ?
sitting in my seat surrounded by Indians, neck craned to hear the NDTV reporter announce details of the forthcoming IPL auction, eating my samosa and sipping my Pepsi, I feel myself settling down...why am I starting to feel so comfortable ? is it simply because I am back in my homeland where things happen and people behave in ways that I completely understand ? is it because of the freedom you feel because of the relative anonymity that being in such a crowd of people affords ? is it because I don't feel I'm representing my country in a foreign land anymore ? or because the weight of having to follow social conventions alien to me is lifted ?
and why do I feel like I have more space even though everything is much more crowded ?
I make my way out of the airport to the auto and taxi stands and find a stone bench...I see two substantial dollops of crow-shit on the seat and happily settle down next to it...I seem to have settled into 'Indian mode'...my threshold for not being repulsed seems to have been multiplied tenfold...I look behind to see the taxi drivers cleaning their taxis before the day's work...one of them is brushing his teeth with his finger, using water for toothpaste...dirty water...I look in front of me and see the early-morning traffic...lots of two-wheelers, a Honda Civic, Honda Accord, a Maruthi Van...the density of vehicles increases with time, until I can feel the beat of the city expressing itself in the collective passing of those vehicles...Chennai is busy and alive and thriving...I look to my right to see a large building site that the workers have just arrived on...Chennai is growing and developing...
I go back to the airport, check in my luggage ...realise I left the whiskey bottle in the Mumbai flight...go and buy a new one and go to customs check-in...they won't allow me to carry the whiskey-bottle in my hand-luggage...I re-check-in the whiskey bottle into my flight luggage...board the flight...
window-seat...I look outside at the flat-roofed, multi-coloured houses...Marina Beach looks more beautiful than ever...we pass over the sea...before I realise it, we're preparing for landing at Coimbatore...I look down and see Anna-flyover from above, like I've never seen it before...we land and I walk from the plane to the airport...the walk is unexpectedly beautiful...in some ways, Coimbatore airport seems more beautiful than Heathrow...definitely more emphasis on nature...pick up my baggage, check if the whiskey-bottle is there, and head out wondering if my parents will be waiting...
walk out into the bright, yet gentle sunshine that is characteristic of Coimbatore...look around...ah ! there's my father's brown bald head, gleaming in the sunlight...and there's Amma...looking younger and happier than when I last saw her...they've seen me...hugs..."Happy Birthday Nitin !", Amma says....oh yea, how could I forget ! ITS MY BIRTHDAY !!!
the events of my birthday deserve a separate post, so will sign off for now...hoping to post again today evening and bring the blog up-to-date :)
Nitin
the flight back was definitely eventful...reached Heathrow half-hour late because of a fight with the telephone operator of the taxi company...don't even ask...checked my baggage in and before I realised it, was time to board...not before I was refused permission to carry whiskey in my hand-luggage...don't even ask...hehe
found my seat and found I was sitting next to a deaf old man...quite an appropriate neighbour for someone who doesn't talk too much...sat down...5 minutes later, this young Indian girl takes the other seat next to me...not sure whether to talk or not...finally, turn and say hi...we start a conversation about the bad service on the flight, how it used to be better...about her holiday in UK, my life in UK...about college/University life, about society and character analyses on various Bollywood stars...I go to sleep...wake up and we analyse the character of various Hollywood stars, lament on the perils of the modern Indian arranged marriage and decide Air India is the worst airline in the world...
we land in Mumbai...India ! go out of the plane and immediately feel the blast of heat and humidity...India ! I wonder whether I should take off my sleeveless green sweater...decide to keep it on coz I look really good in it...my decision doesn't feel right when I get quizzical looks from fellow passengers...I think I also overheard a kid questioning his mother on the basics of dressing according to the weather...
join a queue for flights to Chennai...'queue' is probably too strong a word...the 'queue' doesn't move forward for 20 minutes...suddenly, it moves and moves fast...its the customs check...I put my stuff into the tray and am berated by the staff for having my mobile phone in my pocket rather than in my hand-luggage..."if you have space in your bag, you should put it there", he reasons...are Indian staff ruder because they care more or just because they're plain unprofessional ?
pick up a new whiskey bottle...20 dollars ! and go to wait to board the flight to Chennai...meet a young Indian engineer...talk about design of medical devices and the Indian economy...am struck by his practical, self-taught approach to thinking inspite of a mediocre schooling and higher education...us Indians have sooooo much potential
there are about 30 people in the room, 29 Indians and 1 Brit...I turn to talk to him and find he is a priest....an a-denominational priest that categorises himself as not falling under any particular denominational category...he's going to Chennai to speak at some religious meetings...hands me his personal testimony on our way to the flight...
I sleep the whole flight...we land in Chennai...it feels even more like India now...more hot, more humid, more populated, more chaotic...rush through the immigration check, go pick up my bags and make my way to the next-door domestic airport...its 4 in the morning...outside the airport, the air is lit by the light from within the airport and polluted by sand granules thrown up by the million people walking through it...reach the domestic airport, find its too early to check in my bag, wonder what to do...
spy an eatery on the right....Indian food ! hurry there only to be greeted by the slightly deflating sight of the range of British food - puffs, patties, rolls...decide to buy a veg samosa coz its the most Indian thing there, also buy a fountain pepsi...50 rupees in total ! is inflation in India so high or is it just that airport prices are inflated ?
find a seat in a collection of seats in front of a TV screen showing NDTV news...the seat is almost under the screen, so looking up at it feels vaguely like it might feel to look at the Eiffel Tower from below...needs the neck to be craned...not just my neck, but the necks of all people in that collection of seats...bad human-centered design...wouldn't be acceptable in the UK...us Indians just seem to settle for less...but are we any less happy ? does good human-centered design make the UK a happier place ? or does it spoil them and create ever-increasing expectations ?
sitting in my seat surrounded by Indians, neck craned to hear the NDTV reporter announce details of the forthcoming IPL auction, eating my samosa and sipping my Pepsi, I feel myself settling down...why am I starting to feel so comfortable ? is it simply because I am back in my homeland where things happen and people behave in ways that I completely understand ? is it because of the freedom you feel because of the relative anonymity that being in such a crowd of people affords ? is it because I don't feel I'm representing my country in a foreign land anymore ? or because the weight of having to follow social conventions alien to me is lifted ?
and why do I feel like I have more space even though everything is much more crowded ?
I make my way out of the airport to the auto and taxi stands and find a stone bench...I see two substantial dollops of crow-shit on the seat and happily settle down next to it...I seem to have settled into 'Indian mode'...my threshold for not being repulsed seems to have been multiplied tenfold...I look behind to see the taxi drivers cleaning their taxis before the day's work...one of them is brushing his teeth with his finger, using water for toothpaste...dirty water...I look in front of me and see the early-morning traffic...lots of two-wheelers, a Honda Civic, Honda Accord, a Maruthi Van...the density of vehicles increases with time, until I can feel the beat of the city expressing itself in the collective passing of those vehicles...Chennai is busy and alive and thriving...I look to my right to see a large building site that the workers have just arrived on...Chennai is growing and developing...
I go back to the airport, check in my luggage ...realise I left the whiskey bottle in the Mumbai flight...go and buy a new one and go to customs check-in...they won't allow me to carry the whiskey-bottle in my hand-luggage...I re-check-in the whiskey bottle into my flight luggage...board the flight...
window-seat...I look outside at the flat-roofed, multi-coloured houses...Marina Beach looks more beautiful than ever...we pass over the sea...before I realise it, we're preparing for landing at Coimbatore...I look down and see Anna-flyover from above, like I've never seen it before...we land and I walk from the plane to the airport...the walk is unexpectedly beautiful...in some ways, Coimbatore airport seems more beautiful than Heathrow...definitely more emphasis on nature...pick up my baggage, check if the whiskey-bottle is there, and head out wondering if my parents will be waiting...
walk out into the bright, yet gentle sunshine that is characteristic of Coimbatore...look around...ah ! there's my father's brown bald head, gleaming in the sunlight...and there's Amma...looking younger and happier than when I last saw her...they've seen me...hugs..."Happy Birthday Nitin !", Amma says....oh yea, how could I forget ! ITS MY BIRTHDAY !!!
the events of my birthday deserve a separate post, so will sign off for now...hoping to post again today evening and bring the blog up-to-date :)
Nitin
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