(19 Sept ’10)
Those who keep going
abroad, specially across the ‘pond’ as the two large oceans are called these
days, won’t understand my thrill.
In my childhood, when
relatives came from abroad, I stared at them, observed and absorbed their
accents. When they opened their suitcases, there was a fresh smell that came
from them. The gifts they got me were treasured and carefully used for they
were ‘foreign’: Luna pencils, heart-shaped erasers with pictures on them,
girlie purses, pleated skirts, chocolates (but of course), watches (uh, a
watch, once), cheeses, dictionaries, cigarettes for my father, synthetic sarees
for my mother, knives, and … our crowning show-off presents, ball-point pens.
They (the relatives, not the pens) told us about life in London, New York,
Beirut, Seattle, and I gaped as I learnt about department stores (the word mall
was three decades away) and supermarkets. Bred on a diet of Enid Blyton and
Nancy Drew, I craved for Santa Claus, Christmas, muffins, goblins, snow and
names like Victoria, Margeret… even a surname like Belchbottom was better than
the one I was born to. I was fascinated by passports. I peeked into them slyly,
carefully putting them back in their places in drawers so no one would know I’d
touched them. I didn’t know what a visa was, but surely it was something very
precious, like diamond earrings, for it was locked away, in the passports, in
safes in Godrej cupboards.
I never understood why
they insisted on eating bhendi, dried mackerels, gavar-beans, green bananas,
jackfruit, and bhajias, they with the pink-tinged cheeks and well cut hair.
Now, on the verge of
crossing the seas to the most ‘attractive’ (debatable, friends tell me) and the
wealthiest continent, I can see why. Even in the year 2010, I will be carrying
wood-fire-and-sand roasted peanuts with their skins on.
Friends, colleagues,
relatives went to the US to study, on holiday, even migrated. They talked about
professionalism, independence, comforts I had never dreamed of (cars for all?)
and they seemed to be smiling all the time. When I was in a group, I felt left
out, ignorant. Perhaps it was in my mind, but I got the feeling that I was
being looked down upon or pitied. I was made to understand that I didn’t
understand what they were talking about: no servants, doing your own thing,
owning television sets, phones, cars, jeans, sweaters, mayonnaise, movies… and
much more. Cousins or colleagues would club together, chat with ease and
confidence, whilst I didn’t really ‘belong’. I am certain that I share these
feelings with many others with a similar middle-class west-coast background
like mine.
Computers and cable
television changed my life, and the lives of Indians like me, forever. Forget
being ashamed of how we spoke, we actually invented and flouted Hinglish. My
son’s generation, his friends, aren’t awed in the least by anyone who has ‘been
abroad’. Technology takes minutes to reach us… it once took twenty years. The
migration to the middle east and thence westwards changed many ambitions,
aspirations, class differences, opinions, outlooks. But those like me who’ve
always been curious, the question remains: what’s life like on the other side
of the planet?
Airline pilots, cabin crew, corporate jetsetters, moneyed tourists,
regular conference-goers… I’ve envied them. Perhaps not so much now, but in my
younger days. For me, foreign travel was ‘if I wanted it, I needed to earn it’
and that on my meager salaries was unreachable.
When I worked in Goa, with
up-market foreign tourists, a large amount of that glamour tarnished. Still,
they impressed me with their professionalism, sense of time, knowledge of music
and literature and history… the homework they did on India before arrival.
I am now on the verge of crossing the oceans. A serious illness of a
family member has forced this trip. I wish I were going in happier times. I’m
thrilled nevertheless. I will be seeing a different continent, on the other
side of this planet. I have read up on time-zones, criss-crossing geographical
boundaries, airline traffic, commerce, food, ballets, all sorts of things:
bless technology, I don’t need to move anything but my fingers over a mouse to
know about them. I’m looking forward to the next few weeks. Wish me luck,
readers.
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