I have just returned from a visit to the country that was home for the first 23 years of my life. It is a country full of contradictions and disparities and never fails to arouse a multitude of emotions for many who like me are in some ways glad they have torn themselves free and in other ways have never been able to completely break away. Vivid memories of a happy childhood, of relaxed family times, solid brick buildings, cemented verandas, college and university years are never far from my mind. The desire to go back and reconnect is always strong. But what is surprising is that each time I go back something seems to change. Either the country keeps changing or the lens through which I see it changes. Furthermore, my reactions keep changing as I am slowly reimmersed in Indian culture. In the initial days of my visit, the stark realities of a poor and corrupt country refuse to match up to the India of my memories. By the time I am ready to leave, the most significant images are of warm relationships and emotional interactions. Rab Asre means ”rely on God” and it is a term often used to describe everyday Indian life. It rings truest on Indian roads where vehicles, pedestrians and animals compete. Traffic can come at you from any direction. Beggars emerge from nowhere every time your vehicle stops. Drivers roll down their windows to yell their road rage. No stop signs and no crosswalk; few traffic lights and even fewer traffic lanes. Lots of honking horns and lots of reason to pray. It hadn’t seemed that chaotic when I lived here. Either the traffic has gotten worse or I have become used to a different way. Mumbai (Bombay) is infamous for its gridlock and poor air quality. But if life is extremely hectic on the streets, it is wonderfully relaxed in the homes. Block out the rest of the city and ensconce yourself in the home of a loving aunt and uncle and Mumbai isn’t bad at all. Life in India is distinctly different for the privileged. Those who have status or money are serviced by the majority of poor who work as cooks, dishwashers, janitors, gardeners or laundry persons. Name a household chore and, if you have money, you have a person to perform it. Systems bend to please the privileged. If a police officer stops a car for a violation and finds a person of position in it, he profusely apologizes. If he stops and finds a nobody, he asks for cash that goes in his pocket. People lacking position or money are fair game for any kind of harassment or punishment. In beautiful Goa, our next destination, a woman I had seen earlier being photographed by her husband (obviously honeymooning) nearly drowned. Some swimmers rescued her and hauled her to shore. There was no lifeguard, no ambulance, no first aid for her as she lay unconscious on the sand. A policeman stood by watching with the rest of the people. Finally, after half an hour passed during which no one knew what to do, two people awkwardly carried the unconscious woman to a cab and took her to the hospital. I don’t know if she survived. We passed through the international airport in Delhi just a week before an eight-year-old boy got his head stuck in the escalator and remained there for half an hour. None of the airport’s on-duty doctors were around to help, nor were the technicians who could have freed the child. He died. These were accidents that could happen anywhere, but it’s the lack of response that was scary. Again I realized that I had gotten used to a different way. We finally moved on to Punjab where the never-changing love and warmth of a large extended family almost blinded me to all other frustrations. They all laugh the inept system away. This is not insensitivity, it is acceptance. In many cases, it is the only way of life they know. People are not consumed by frustration over corruption and inefficiency. They feel fortunate to have their relaxed lifestyles and their chit-chat hours. They have the time to show love and care for their dear ones. They feel India is moving forward in terms of new technology and innovative businesses. But they laugh at the fuss created over their system by non-resident Indians. Weren’t we all a part of it once? Gradually I undergo an attitude adjustment and ease myself back into the system. I lap up the visiting, the partying, the lazing around in the sunshine. When it is time to go, all I can think of is leaving the love, warmth and fun behind. But at the back of my mind, I am glad that I am returning home to Canada and a better system. I deeply regret both the physical distance and the systemic difference between my old and new homes. Nothing seems to effectively bridge the distance in either sense of the word. Manpreet Grewal is a regular contributor to Forum
