A GO-VAAN IN TAMIL NADU
The early
morning rays burst out of the eastern horizon as my bus driver kept breaking
his speed records. His lucky my mom wasn’t sitting beside him; else he would
have had nonstop commentary about gear changes; oncoming traffic; who almost
brushed the side mirror and the risk of driving with one hand and ‘showing-off’.
Fortunately for him, most of us -passengers were deep into our sleep spells;
those awake were just hoping he would drive faster and slide into a pit stop
for home hot coffee.
We eventually
did stop for breakfast on the outskirts of Chennai. As I bit into some fresh wadas and sipped my coffee, I couldn’t
help but admire the tidiness maintained at the junction. Dozens of dustbins, no
garbage, clean floors and plenty of fresh air. I mean after all that heard
about the city - the monstrous weather, indigestible food, unreadable maps,
hostile people speaking an alien language -the build up seemed fine. However,
soon enough my first impression surrendered to the rave Goan reviews.
The hot greasy
air flushed across my dry and tired face, as I tried to overcome my nervy metropolitan
claustrophobia and search for a store that sold Vodafone vouchers. My brother
had travelled from another town to guide me through the hustle and bustle of
Chennai. With our rug sacks and choice of attire, we certainly did not resemble
the local tribe, yet a couple of salesman stopped us asking for directions. It
is funny that however hard you try to express your ignorance of the vernacular
they keep jibing at you. I couldn’t but watch in admiration, this
socio-cultural exchange. The sales guys talked to us in fluent Tamil as my
brother’s claims of “we are tourists” went in vain. The meaningless
conversation went on till they finally realized we were natives of “Go-vaa”.
An unbearable stench
assailed my nostrils as I began to dodge garbage and human traffic. I sensed
cold stares from the streets probably because of my attire. Ironically, wearing
casual shorts seemed offensive in a region where a folded ‘lungi’ is trended sexy. Overlooking their stubbornness to speak in
Hindi and sense of hygiene, the people of Tamil Nadu are honest and available.
Their inability to converse has tagged them as proud people, but they are not
helpless and strive to overcome the handicap. They adorably find a way to make
you feel at home and help you if you are lost. I enjoyed meals on banana leaves as much as I
enjoyed travelling on the local train – fast and ticket-less.
I entered a
packed hall (for my entrance exam) ten minutes late, thanks to my bro’s hunger
vibes and KFC’s shamefully slow service. A supervisor came up to me and fired
me in front of the whole class and ‘yev-ri-von’
knew the ‘Go-vaan’ was here. Sometimes,
not knowing a language could be both a good and bad feeling. You don’t feel
insulted when abused but then you have no idea how much he has humiliated you.
Then something filmy happened – a young sexy south Indian beauty walked up to
me and translated the prior scolding, as she led me to ma seat. I don’t think I
was paying attention to what she said, but she was certainly too charming to be
a teacher. I later apologized to her for being late. Hey!! Don’t judge me!
Desperate and
homesick, I had to leave the same evening. A young gentleman helped us chase
our Bus as our rickshaw flew over potholes and speed-breakers, dodged traffic
lights and footpath vendors, skidded through alleys and sharp corners. I tipped
him a little extra for literally laying down his life and giving us a taste of
Rajinikanth. Wait, I never saw his face, could it have been him? The legend, the
one and only? They say he is omnipotent. I turned back to see, he had vanished.
Boarding the bus was scary - annoyed passengers gave us evil glares for the delay.
Once again, as usual, the ‘Gov-vans’ had arrived late. Amidst strokes of
lightning and flashes of thunder, I dreamt of pork and beef and my entrance
exam that could be a blunder.
There’s a fable
of a beggar who sat at the entrance gate of an unknown town. A visiting tourist
gave him a penny and asked “What is this place like? “, he thought for a moment
and replied, “ It’s beautiful. People are warm and friendly. No disease. No violence.
Good food. Good fun.” The visitor entered, adjusted, blended in and became a
citizen.
Another visitor
came up to him on the same day. Ignoring the beggar’s plea for alms he
inquired, “What is this place like? “. The beggar shrugged, “Its hell. People
are cold and hostile. Infested with disease and battered by war. Unhygienic
food and Sad life” The visitor entered, complained, insulted, abused and soon left
robbed and bruised.
Life is all
about the philosophy you live. The perspective you bring in and attitude you
reflect back on the people you meet. A human being has the capacity to own and
disown at will. Being in a completely new environment can be tough and scary
and frustrating. Things will not be as comfy as at home but then it’s all about
respecting, accepting and adjusting to change. If you want to discover new
horizons you got to be ready to leave behind familiar shores.
-
For HERALD – SEPTEMBER 2012
amazing!!!! :D
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