There is an album at my home where there are infinite
stories about my Dad’s visit to different countries abroad but his whole
experience narrates a very different sketch about his stay at that time. I used
to see the album and say “How lucky you
are Dad, to have trotted around the world, these faraway places are just like
some faraway fantasy land for me."
But after 25 years I really have a very different opinion .Thanks
to Globalisation and liberalization policies. Those faraway places which always
evoked a sense of awe has been shed off “ohk, going to US, try those spicy papads and
chicken tikka masaIa in that nearby dhaba just around the bay area.” I no longer flip on the pages of the album
with my mouth open, eyes squandering thinking of that world as unknown, alienated
in spite of being so beautiful. The whole world is so familiar so known these
days.
With IT revolution, globalisation and the magical world of
web, even the unscathed corners of Mars have
been invaded and appears just like a new town somewhere near, US, Europe,
Australia or Antarctica, Africa are just next door neighbours. The world has
been squeezed, condensed to a smaller sphere. I had this opportunity to be a
part of this new identity and believe me I never felt I was7, 658 kms away from
my own abode.
It was this gloomy weather in England which often evoked me
to go down memory lane and seek spicy Indian delights with a cup of chai. And
did you think I had to order that next time from a distant relative staying in
India and count days till she arrived and said “Oops, this time my luggage was
too heavy, its better if next time you
plan a trip to Darjeeling and bring some sachets for me too.” And did I
have to sulk or frown on her pathetic lame excuses?
My murky days would be
sprinkled with ‘masalas’ and ‘spices’ from local departmental stores which had this big
section of Indian savouries and right behind the counter was a section all
filled with different varieties of handpicked leaves right from Assam to
Darjeeling.
The lanes and by lanes of England where I spent a few years
did not smell “foreign “rather the tangy
curry delights and its aroma dragged me
into the shady lanes of English towns,
with little arrows showing boards “Indian Meals” “Taste of India” or “Mini
India” . The local restaurants served fine aromatic curries right from Chicken
Chettinad to Mutton Vindaloo, Paneer Tikka Masala to Pulao. And I used to say “This
time I ain’t book my tickets just to have a taste of India”. Even packs of comfort food made in 2minutes
were all stacked up in the shelves.
The little placard right near the farmer’s market had this
small brochures pinned up “Learn Bollywood dance and moves from
renowned bollywood choreographer” and here I was certainly looking for an
English ballet class but....
The foreign encounters were rare but desi brush stroked every
orb of life. A sneak peek into the big brand showrooms, a little turning on and
off the tag would arrest my glance and the little note on the collar of the
shirt written “Made in India” sometimes left me frantically seeking space
where I would be left without the Indian tag or might be underneath I would
take pride “The world has become so small, surely.”
Come Indian festivals every Indian household looked like mini
India adorned to its best in the most vibrant attire. Did I dare to say or
think I was some7, 658 kms away from the subcontinent? The archetypal Indian homes
performed conventional rituals just like any other part of India. The
emblematic decoration of the Indian homes could swipe you away to your own
home, the little packs of sweets exemplified the Indian characteristics of
sweets even Indian sweet shops would shy away(there were few of those delights
which i remember were made by the
elderly women folks of India, they were right there in beautifully packed
cases), firecrackers burning away, rituals being performed with the perfect
tinge of Indian ness(even a pundit ji was a call away), the thumping tune of
latest Bollywood soundtracks and the smell of incense sticks so familiar, so
known, so recognizable would just push those boundaries aside..and those faces
so alike, so many of them residing away from home in another country just
throwing a subtle hint here and there everytime,everywhere that home is here,
home is just where you reside.
The nostalgic moments does not torment your memory any more.
A remote English country side town did
have the ability to reflect the same shade you had desired for, absolutely
soaking up into your identity, the costume, the culture, the food being
assimilated into another land just like an NRI softening his own identity to
live without remorse in an unknown land.
A new home greets you far away from your own home.
