IT WAS a warm summer afternoon. There was already a winding queue by the time I got to the movie hall. No movie had generated so much buzz, definitely not such long lines or for that matter repeat viewers.
It was a while before our group got to the ticket counter, giving everyone enough time to catch up on the latest gossip and exchange news and views about all and sundry. The tickets came with stern warnings to each one of us that lighting incense, camphor and/or breaking coconuts was strictly prohibited! The excitement was palpable, continuous cheers followed the purchase of tickets, and entry into the dimly lit hall was accompanied by joyous cries. The few Americans hanging around at the time seemed intrigued and perplexed by this weird commotion. The seats were full but people desperately begged for tickets, agreeing to sit/stand/kneel/crouch in the aisles, whatever it took.
Everyone wanted a ringside seat to soak in every minute of the best three hours of their life. And thus it began, the cultural spectacle that needs to be experienced to be truly understood. The opening credits onscreen were welcomed with decibel levels reminiscent of Indian cricket victories at Eden Gardens. People danced in the aisles, and whistles and screams echoed in the hall. Sivaji the Boss, portrayed by Thalaiva a.k.a Rajnikant, had finally come to a theater near us.
These weren't the by-lanes of Chennai though, this midsummer pageantry unfolded in Columbus, Ohio in the very heart of Midwestern USA back in the summer of 2007.These are the kinds of experiences that have made living in the US exciting for me. I am not the intrepid adventurer who likes to sky dive and bungee jump to feel an adrenalin rush. My adventures instead consist of mellower yet novel experiences that induce wondrous delight, but more than anything else serve up an unexpected slice of desi culture in a foreign land with an inimitable dose of spicy tadka! While America itself has always been depicted as a melting pot, what is truly amazing about such expatriate experiences in the US is how much of this melting pot culture you see among Indians from diverse backgrounds.
Growing up as a south Indian in the predominantly North Indian culture of 1980s Delhi, constantly being teased about my “Madrasi” antecedents, often revealed petty provincial biases even amongst the most urbane classes. Yet, Indians in the US for the most part seem to be able to rise above these narrow perceptions. Everyone here becomes a “desi”, glad to be among fellow countrymen and reminisce about and recreate a shared culture miles away from the homeland. In fact the Sivaji experience that brought together so many Indian Americans of different cultural and linguistic backgrounds in one place is an experience that perhaps I could not have had even in Delhi at the time.
This is not to say that the process of transition is easy. For the majority of students and professionals coming to America, learning the work culture and social mores presents challenges for sure. However, these encounters are radically different from the mainstream NYC/LA stereotypes that often tend to dominate Indian imaginations. Like many students who choose university over location, undeniably there was a culture shock in store for me. Coming from a noisy, overpopulated, metropolitan, diverse city like Delhi and having to adjust to somewhat of a quiet, bucolic life in a city of about 800,000 people was definitely challenging for me. Every time I hit the main streets, I would keep wondering where all the people and cars were. My first winter in Columbus, having witnessed enough snow to last me a lifetime, every week that I had to trudge through the slushy slippery streets with heavy grocery bags I would pray to God for the miracle of an autorickshaw to take me home, pleading to be forgiven for all the fights that I had gotten into with autowallahs back home. As someone who had mostly had a mollycoddled existence, handling the heavy work load of graduate school while learning to cook things other than tea and toast was a good learning experience.
Crossing over from the impulsive college years and growing into adulthood is a daunting task under any circumstance, but do it in a new cultural setting is definitely like a roller coaster ride, exhilarating and dizzying at the same time, but something that in retrospect mostly seems like fun. Ten years ago, on a muggy Delhi night, when I boarded the plane to come to the US to attend graduate school, I had only a vague notion of what getting a PhD entailed, an even vaguer one about what my life would be like for the next decade. I felt equal measures of excitement and trepidation, and as the plane soared into the sky, I knew not what the future held but only a yearning to seize whatever lay ahead.
Undoubtedly I have made a good life for myself here but the mixed emotions persist. Every so often, I sorely miss the sounds, smells, tastes, and chaotic energy of Delhi. The eagerness to try out the newest Indian restaurant in my neighborhood is sometimes tinged with sadness at the inability to share these experiences with friends and family who would have shown up at an instant’s notice in the good old days. As liberating it is to be able to dress how you want without constantly attracting unwanted gazes, it saddens me to acknowledge that my monochrome wardrobe is mostly different shades of grey and not the riot of colors it used to be in India. As fun as it is to be able to celebrate Holi and Diwali among compatriots, the celebrations often feel constricted by our cookie cutter 9-to-5 lives where festivities have to be postponed to the weekend.
Yet, as I travel back and forth between USA and India, I realise that the India that I have idealised so much in my mind is in reality so drastically different from the one I left behind in 2004. And the one that I felt a foreigner in (USA), has slowly but steadily become more home to me than I am sometimes willing to admit. It is the home that I genuinely miss during my vacations in Delhi.