The 5th of September

Today is September 5th…..Teachers’ Day. My students gave me a little bouquet and a card yesterday. Though I accepted it and thanked my students, I pondered for a while…. Am I really fit for this job? This was a profession which I thought that I would never go into. I was totally unfocused and never knew which profession to follow even after my Post Graduation. I had an array of professions in front of me. Not knowing what to do and listening to my husband’s ‘valuable advice’ I came into this profession. I keep cursing myself for coming into this because I was and am never a good teacher. If given an opportunity I would be ready to leave this and choose another profession or opt for voluntary retirement. Wrapping the five and a half meter cloth and standing in front of students is such a boring affair. In order to teach for an hour one has to prepare at least for two hours. If I have a doubt I’ll have to search it in the net. I have to keep myself updated. Though I love doing this, I hate to stand in front of students to teach.


Before coming into teaching I had at least a dozen of other ambitions. I can remember going to the hospital quite often when I was a little girl. I would open my mouth in awe at the nurses. Their spotless, crisp white blouse, their white knee length skirt, their knee length stockings, white shoes and the nurses’ cap attracted me to no end. I have had a fascination for good clothes and an ego to hurt all those who hurt me in thoughts, words or deeds. I liked their cheerful disposition. I was scared of injections. I wanted to wear their dress and “poke” everyone who irritated me. This was my very first ambition. For three years I wanted to be a nurse.

My next ambition was to be a bus conductor. Oh God!!!! How I loved it!!!!! I loved the tickets of various hues, their small leather bag under their armpit and the steel whistle of the conductor. I made it a point to collect these tickets from the road side when ever I went out alone. I would carefully collected it from the roadside as I walked along. By the time I finished walking a kilometer I would have had at least around 20-25 tickets. I never dared to show it to my Mum or to my siblings as they were ‘sneakers’ and my Mum totally discouraged my picking up waste materials from the roadside. I would pretend to be a conductor when I was alone by issuing tickets to my dolls. I would blow the red whistle at regular intervals. I remember my brother telling me that only men could become conductors and I told him that I would at least marry a bus conductor when I became big.

I don’t know when I lost my interest in conductors. My ambition was transformed from a conductor to a district collector. I thought it was an easy profession and that I would qualify the civil service examination with the ease of passing the second standard!!!!

By the time I had reached my 9th standard I wanted to be a hair dresser. I thought that was the best profession to follow. I would assume myself to be the hair stylist and using a pair of scissors from the dissection box I would go on cutting in the air. I cannot explain the joy I received from it. I still remember the day when my ICSE results were announced…. The headmistress asked me what I was planning to do and I confidently said that I wanted to become a hair dresser. She was shocked. She said I had to do my degree before I thought of becoming one. I lost that interest when Mum told me that it was such a “dirty” profession as I would have to wax other peoples’ legs and armpits. With that, my dreams of becoming a hair dresser disappeared into the thin air.

Then the lawyer profession attracted me. As I mentioned earlier I was always fascinated by good clothes. The court dress - the black robe, their white frilled collar and every thing in them attracted me. I imagined myself of becoming a lawyer and then becoming a judge. I also pictured myself in the wig and the gavel in my hand calling out “order, order”, sitting in front of the blindfolded Lady Justice with a scale and a sword. I have only seen lawyers near the Vanchiyoor court. I continued this dream until I completed my Pre-degree. I wanted to go for Law and so did my friend. My Mum strongly protested against my idea of joining the Law College.

The explanation she gave me was
“Ninte koottu shari alla. Pokan pattilla.” (“Your friends are not good. You cannot go.”)
No amount of tears would move her. I tried my tears, my threatening that I would discontinue my studies and everything possible. Nothing made my Mum soft. I tried arguing with her and she said that it would be difficult for me to deal with clients as I had a language problem. She asked me take up English Literature for my degree as it had a good scope. I refused to listen to her and took up a subject in which I had no interest just to irritate her. I lost all interest in my studies. I joined college politics. I contested in college union elections and this led to my downward trend in my studies. I would justify my declining interest in studies by saying that to end up in someone’s kitchen I did not need a B.A degree.

By the time I completed my BA I developed a liking for MBA. I joined Brillance College in Chennai (then Madras) for CAT entrance coaching. I was aiming IIMs but did not even qualify for the MBA course at Cochin University. My fat hopes of sitting in a revolving chair with my own PA and bossing over people were dashed. I had to join for my PG at a very reputed institution in Trivandrum. Most of my classmates were rank holders from other universities. I detested going to college as I couldn’t get along with those brainy people with very little human feelings. They were obsessed with books and marks whereas I was more interested in enjoying life. When life became miserable I stopped going to college. I was more like a Mahabali in college. If Mahabali visited his people once a year, I visited my college a bit more frequently…twice a month.

By the time I was doing my PG, I completely lost interest in my studies due to personal reasons. I just wanted a job. I was willing to do any job. All that I wanted was enough money to buy two packets of Maggi Noodles everyday. I never thought about the expenses I would have to incur when I lived alone. I dreamt of taking a flat on rent in Bangalore and living alone with no one to disturb me. I just wanted Rs.500 for my expenses every month. I was willing to do any work from a receptionist to a sales girl. I realized these were only dreams which would never materialize. As soon as my PG examinations were over I got married and that was the end of my dreams of living alone and eating Maggi noodles.

It was only after my marriage that I even thought of the teaching profession. Every one told me that it was a noble profession and that a teacher got a lot of respect from the society. Finally I did my B.Ed and became a teacher. Only after I became a teacher I realized that it was not at all an easy profession to follow. A teacher has to take a lot of care of one’s behaviour, dressing, in dealing with people and a whole lot of other things. I started hating the profession. With my ‘no care’ attitude it was difficult for me to face my students. I had to sacrifice my midis, frocks, jeans and pants. I had to keep wearing a sari day after day, month after month and year after year. Even at home I have to be careful about my dress code. A teacher is likely to bump into a student even when he/she is in town or out of station. I have had a number of occasions where I felt very awkward when I met my old students.

A couple of years back I went to Veegaland. I was confident that I would not bump into any of my students. I was in the wave pool happily playing in the water. While coming out of the water I saw someone smiling at me. I couldn’t recognize him. He walked up to me and looked at me from top to bottom and said,
“Good evening teacher” and then continued,
“Xina teacher ale?” (“Are you Xina teacher?”)

The call “teacher” made me shudder. Is he my student? I am standing there wearing a lycra tights and a t-shirt completely drenched in water.

“Athe.”….Then looking at him puzzled, I asked “Ara? Manasilayillelo.” (“Yes.” “I cannot recognize you”)

He told me his name and I immediately recognized him. He was an old student of mine. It seems he is a teacher and has brought his students for a trip to the amusement park. Not even in my wildest dream did I imagine to meet someone I knew in a distant place. That was and is still a big problem of being into the teaching profession and the biggest problem is everywhere you will find someone who knows you. I have lost my privacy. I have lost my freedom. I have lost my patience.

This morning an old student of mine rang me up to wish me. He makes it a point to call me and wish me on my birthday, on Teachers’ day, on Christmas, Onam and Easter. He also rings up to get my blessings before he does something. How did I influence him? Was I a guide to him? Or did I inspire him? Or did I discipline him? I don’t think I ever did any of these things to him.

I took a resolution this morning that I should try to love this profession, instead of brooding. Let me see if I can love my students, guide and inspire them. I guess I will be able to do it. Let us wait and see.

Lessons in Life

"I've learned that you cannot make someone love you. All you can do is be someone who can be loved. The rest is up to them.

I've learned that no matter how much I care, some people just don't care back.

I've learned that just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.

I've learned that it takes years to build up trust, and only seconds to destroy it.

I've learned that it's not what you have in your life but who you have in your life that counts.

I've learned that you can get by on charm for about fifteen minutes. After that, you'd better know something.

I've learned that you shouldn't compare yourself to the best others can do but to the best you can do.

I've learned that it's not what happens to people that's important. It's what they do about it.

I've learned that you can do something in an instant that will give you heartache for life.

I've learned that no matter how thin you slice it, there are always two sides.

I've learned that it's taking me a long time to become the person I want to be.

I've learned that it's a lot easier to react than it is to think.

I've learned that you should always leave loved ones with loving words. It may be the last time you see them.

I've learned that you can keep going long after you think you can't.

I've learned that we are responsible for what we do, no matter how we feel.

I've learned that either you control your attitude or it controls you.

I've learned that regardless of how hot and steamy a relationship is at first, the passion fades and there had better be something else to take its place.

I've learned that heroes are the people who do what has to be done when it needs to be done, regardless of the consequences.

I've learned that learning to forgive takes practice.

I've learned that there are people who love you dearly, but just don't know how to show it.

I've learned that money is a lousy way of keeping score.

I've learned that my best friend and I can do anything or nothing and have the best time.

I've learned that sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you're down will be the ones to help you get back up.

I've learned that sometimes when I'm angry I have the right to be angry, but that doesn't give me the right to be cruel.

I've learned that true friendship continues to grow, even over the longest distance. Same goes for true love.

I've learned that maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you've had and what you've learned from them and less to do with how many birthdays you've celebrated.

I've learned that you should never tell a child their dreams are unlikely or outlandish. Few things are more humiliating, and what a tragedy it would be if they believed it.

I've learned that your family won't always be there for you. It may seem funny, but people you aren't related to can take care of you and love you and teach you to trust people again. Families aren't biological.

I've learned that no matter how good a friend is, they're going to hurt you every once in a while and you must forgive them for that.

I've learned that it isn't always enough to be forgiven by others. Sometimes you have to learn to forgive yourself.

I've learned that no matter how bad your heart is broken the world doesn't stop for your grief.

I've learned that our background and circumstances may have influenced who we are, but we are responsible for who we become.

I've learned that sometimes when my friends fight, I'm forced to choose sides even when I don't want to.

I've learned that just because two people argue, it doesn't mean they don't love each other. And just because they don't argue, it doesn't mean they do.

I've learned that sometimes you have to put the individual ahead of their actions.

I've learned that we don't have to change friends if we understand that friends change.

I've learned that you shouldn't be so eager to find out a secret. It could change your life forever.

I've learned that two people can look at the exact same thing and see something totally different.

I've learned that no matter how you try to protect your children, they will eventually get hurt and you will hurt in the process.

I've learned that there are many ways of falling and staying in love.

I've learned that no matter the consequences, those who are honest with themselves get farther in life.

I've learned that no matter how many friends you have, if you are their pillar you will feel lonely and lost at the times you need them most.

I've learned that your life can be changed in a matter of hours by people who don't even know you.

I've learned that even when you think you have no more to give, when a friend cries out to you, you will find the strength to help.

I've learned that writing, as well as talking, can ease emotional pains.

I've learned that the paradigm we live in is not all that is offered to us.

I've learned that credentials on the wall do not make you a decent human being.
I've learned that the people you care most about in life are taken from you too soon.

I've learned that although the word "love" can have many different meaning, it loses value when overly used.

I've learned that it's hard to determine where to draw the line between being nice and not hurting people's feelings and standing up for what you believe.

I’ve leaned that you should always leave loved ones with loving words. It may
be the last time you see them.

I’ve have learned that the people we care about most in life are sometimes
taken from you too soon."

These quotes are something that is really meaningful in my life

May her soul rest in peace.

Paskaria, fondly called Pakku, was our servant for a pretty long period. She was an elderly lady with jet black hair, a long face with a beak- like nose and squint eyes. She had wrinkled skin with warts - big and small all over her face. Her mouth was out of proportion. She had a wide mouth tilted to her left side. Her lower lip protruded out and tilted to the right side. In all she looked more like a witch rather than a human being and little kids were scared of her. She was slightly eccentric. She would talk to herself, laugh unnecessarily to herself. But one was never to ask her age as she was 50years old for over 10 years!!!

Pakku was mainly employed for outside work. As our courtyard was quite big and had full of trees, it had to be swept daily. This was the main work of Pakku. Another work that she had was to pound rice daily. Even that was a difficult job. Raw rice had to be washed and soaked in water for at least four to five hours before it was pounded. On a pounding stone she would use a wooden pole with metal base on both sides. Pakku performed the task dexterously. She would then heat the rice powder and keep stirring until the fragrance spread all over the house.

Pakku was never allowed into the dining area. Though she entered the kitchen, she was not allowed to cook. I think she knew how to cook but somehow she was never allowed to do so. At times she could be seen peeling onions for the cook. The main reason was that she was very unhygienic. She had to be forced to bathe. Her clothes were always dirty. Though she washed her clothes it was were always stained and never looked clean. She always wore the old clothes that her daughter gave her. All the new clothes that we gave her went to her daughter. She had the habit of sleeping with a broom [used to remind me of the witches with broomsticks]

Our Pakku had the habit of flicking things. She would take all the things that her daughter needed. It could be washing powder or soap, or rice or things of daily needs. But she never took anything costly with her. Once I lost a gold chain. I had put it in my skirt’s pocket not realizing that there was a hole in it. I had lost hopes of finding it. The next day Pakku came with the chain and said it was lying with the onions. I felt so grateful to her. It was then I realized that she took things because of abject poverty. She just didn’t want to see her daughter and grand children starve.


Pakku was an unmarried mother (grandmother too). Her daughter was an illegitimate child of Pakku’s brother-in-law. It is heard that the brother-in-aw had many illegitimate children from many women. Pakku adored the father of her child. She held him in high esteem since he was a soldier in the Indian Army. It was a general saying that soldiers, policemen and drivers had wives wherever they worked. So true to the old saying this man lived. When asked about this man Pakku would blush and evade all questions. At times she would just smile.

Pakku was a fifth standard dropout. She used to keep reciting the poems that she had learnt in school (from her Malayala Padavaali). She knew a little bit of English but the words she understood were all wrong. She had the habit of eavesdropping and would reply to our conversation. At times she would laugh unnecessarily at our English conversations.

One incident that keeps coming to my mind is her laughing at our conversation. At lunch time we were discussing about kidney. We heard her burst out laughing. When asked why she was laughing she said,
“Eniku ariyam kidney entha enu.” [I know what a kidney is]

When asked her she started blushing. We knew she had something else in mind. We kept asking her. She came with the most absurd answer. According to her a kidney was where babies were made. We laughed our hearts out that day. Even when we tried to make her understand she couldn’t agree. She thought we were teasing her. Poor soul!!!

She was a very loving lady and she liked children very much. But most of the kids in the family were scared of her witch-like looks. Mothers would tell their children that those who misbehaved were Pakku’s children. My daughter got along with Pakku well. She would go and sit on Pakku’s lap and listen to her stories when she was a very little girl.

She left our house when she became too old. Still she could be seen going for mass, talking and giggling to herself. Once I met her and she told me that she a twig had hit her eye and she was blinded. Then I heard she was bed ridden. She died due to old age four years back. I still miss her giggles, her ‘interpretations’ to English words and her pounded rice powder. May Pakku’s soul rest in peace.

The Varied Uses of a Hair Dryer

The first time I used a hair dryer was when I was in Class VII. It was a big orange one with temperature regulations made by Philips. My Dad had brought it from abroad and it was not a common thing those days to have hair dryers at home. My Dad told me that I had to use it regularly after a shower to style my hair. He was very fond of my “Bruce Lee cut.” Even I was proud of that style and really enjoyed boys calling me Bruce Lee (I thought that I looked like Bruce Lee. It was later I realized that he was not one bit handsome to me).

I think I must have used that hair dryer less than a month as I read an article in the Women’s Era that it was not good for one’s hair. With that I stopped using it. My brother used it regularly and still uses one.

In course of time I got married. There was no hair dryer in my husband’s house. Though I was not particularly interested in that, I longed for one. At last I managed to get one. Again I used it rarely. I have to tell you that my husband uses it regularly to dry everything possible except his hair.

The uses of hair dryer are varied in my house. It serves the purpose of a heater. When my husband has a pain on his neck he uses the ‘hair dryer’ over that region and claims that his pain has vanished (like the Amrutanjan ad…”poyi pochee”).

He suffers from acute sinusitis. When his sinus is giving him trouble, again he takes out the hair dryer and holds it to his face and says he is feeling relieved. Again it is the same “poyi pochee” stuff. (But the next day he goes to the doctor and gets antibiotics to get the actual relieve.)

When the microwave oven gives problems again his ‘hair dryer’ comes out. He claims it is the moisture and humidity that is corroding the connection and he has his hair dryer magic on the microwave. The microwave oven starts functioning only after the service engineer overhauls it. This is the same with the case of the television or any electronic and electrical gadgets. My husband is very obsessed with this hair dryer.

Before I conclude….one more instance

I get severe sprains on my knees. Recently I sprained my right knee. I was writhing in pain. My husband came out with his ‘magic dryer’ and held it close to my knee. When I protested he said that it was good my body had to get heated up especially my leg. I was screaming out in pain and he would not relent to my protests. When my daughter strongly protested seeing me cry he applied Volini on my knees and again he brought out the hair dryer. If I were in a position to move I would have flung the hair dryer out of the house.

I keep teasing him about his obsession for the hair dryer. I tell him that Philips India should hire him in their research wing to do research on their hair dryers. He says that I am ignorant of things. Yeah…maybe he is right. After all he has a doctorate in Physics while I am just a Post graduate in an Arts subject who knows nothing about hair dryers!!!!!!

The Daylight Robbery by the 'Brides of God'

This is about a prestigious college in Trivandrum which is managed by the ‘brides of God’. It was just last week that I went there again for my daughter’s admission. (I studied there for two years twenty five years ago.) I had to go there seven days in less than a month. The first time it was to drop my daughter’s application. The second time to look at the merit list published, then three days to meet the Principal and finally two days for the admission.

There were quite a few things that I noticed about this college.

1. It is a Herculean task to meet the Principal who is in a ‘safe deposit locker’. I quite don’t understand why she needs so much security. (may be for that nasty behaviour of hers.) A person can meet her only after entering three doors!!!! I realized it was much easier to meet Barack Obama or Queen Elizabeth or at least Prathiba Patel, our President. If you plan to meet the Principal one should be sure that you have enough casual leaves because she and her caucus will make sure that you go there for three days befor you meet her. That is the joy of making other people wait and enjoy real sadistic pleasure out of that!!!

2. Beware of the Principal. She is worse than a chameleon. She is in camouflage. She can be very sweet at one time and the next time you can see the devil in her.

3. Go there in your best ‘modern’ attire. (The dirtier your jeans, the more privileged u become!!) If not, you will be treated like dirt.

4. Never dare to question their misdoings. If you do, you become a communist.

5. Even if you talk to the college authorities in the most polite way and if it point out any mistake of theirs be sure that they will spread nasty tales about you.

6. Marks are secondary here. It is the weight of one’s parents’ purse that is more important.

7. At times of admission this place becomes an auction house. Christie’s auction house and Sotheby’s auction house will hold their heads down in shame if they see the auctioning going on in this college. There is no open bidding. Brown envelopes are given to the parents. You write your ward’s name and the amount you give on the envelope. By counting the notes they decide what your child will learn. If the amount is not up to their expectations the envelope will be returned back and you are out of the auction

8. The authorities make sure that parents’ know the auctioning rates. They have a non teaching staff’s husband who tells people to pay half a lakh of rupees to ensure their seats.

I met so many parents from not so well-to-do families putting bundles of Rs.500 notes into envelopes. I feel it is total injustice to take such huge amount for an UG seat. There were many poor people who looked helpless and stood there imploring in front of God’s brides. They stood there emotionless. They have neither human feelings nor compassion. (Remember the saying, money makes the devil dance.) All that they care for is fat purses, NRI students and the cream of the society to study in that college.

I wonder why no student’s organizations like the SFI or KSU or any other organization is protesting against the daylight robbery of the ‘brides of God’. Or are they the Devils’ disciples?????

People at a wedding

This afternoon I attended a wedding reception of my colleague’s daughter. I reached the hall early. As the bride and the groom hadn’t reached I waited outside the hall. I sat on one of the chairs there. Though it was drizzling outside the humidity was high and I was sweating. I was watching the people as I kept fanning myself. There were just half a dozen of men and the rest were women.
The women sat in groups. The women were all decked up like Christmas trees – fully adorned. They all wore heavy Kanchipuram saris. Some had zari while others wore fancy saris with beads, sequins and embroidered ones. I sat a little far from the women crowd as I didn’t know anyone there. I felt like a fish out of water.

The women looked at me and started whispering to each other and occasionally glancing at me. I wore a chikan work (Lucknowi) salwar. Though I paid a few thousands for that, I guess it did not suit their crowd. Over that I do not have the habit of wearing ornaments – be it platinum, or gold or silver or those fancy ones. So I stood out in that crowd. They were busy trying to find out who I was. They were happily talking in Malayalam thinking that I couldn’t understand their language. (Thanks to my alien look). I overheard a lady guessing that I belonged to the Pentecost community. That was their wild guess and I did not go to correct them. I didn’t have to prove to them about my caste and community.

There was another group who sat there exhibiting their ornaments. I saw four heads together admiring an enormous gold bangle on the ‘thin arm’ of a puny lady. The bangle was studded with red and white stones and she was wearing a green sari!!!! It was just not going with her sari. Then the attention was changed to another lady’s earring and so it continued one after the other. It later turned to their saris and in course of time it was about their husbands and children. One boasted on how her child secured all A+ grades for her HSC examination. There were oohs and haaas from all the ladies. Then the discussion was turned to how someone’s kid scored a high rank in the engineering entrance examinations. Again the ooohs and haaas could be heard. There were occasional glances at me. I gave them a totally disinterested look though I was watching each and everyone keenly.

There was yet another group who looked sophisticated. They were sitting there with their noses up in the air and trying to find fault with the arrangement of the reception. The caterers had already started serving the welcome drink. An elderly lady with short coloured hair thought it was very unhygienic to keep the drink opened as all the guests hadn’t arrived yet. She waved her hands as if to show her long nails with red nail polish, and told the guests who came late not to drink it. Was she playing a ‘Good Samaritan’????!!!!!

By then one of my colleague had arrived and we together went and had the welcome drink. The ‘Good Samaritan’ gave me a disgusted look. I gave her a ‘u mind ur own business’ look. She made sure not to look at me again. I was exchanging pleasantries with my friend in Malayalam. Soon other friends of mine joined us. The lady who had guessed that I was a Pentecost gave me a sheepish grin. She understood that my looks had deceived her.

Soon the bride and groom arrived and the halls were opened. As soon as the door opened there was a mad rush to grab a seat for the first sitting itself. All the sophisticated ladies too could be seen running for their seats. (Wonder where their manners and sophistication disappeared???!!!!) My friends and myself (there were five of us) found a place near a family- a father, mother and a little boy of maybe four or five years and three other people. Even before the toast was hosted the people seated on our table quaffed off the wined and gulped down the cake. The chicken fry, salad, sweet chutney, and fruits were covered with cling foil. As soon as the briyani was kept on the table the grabbed the spoon and started serving big helpings. (Even then the toast hadn’t begun at the stage)

Five of us waited for toast to be hosted. Only after the toast we started with cake and wine. By then the people finished their first helping and started with their second. (It was even more disgusting to see the people use their right hand covered with the briyani and raita to take their next helping!!!) It was the first time I saw people eat so heartily at a wedding. By the time we started our first helping a few were having their third!!!! Their capacity is really great!!!! Luckily the food was being served in plenty that we did not have to starve.

After the wedding while I was going back home I thought about the Indian weddings. (I was using the public transport so my imaginations were free to run wild). Indian wedding were a place of pomp and splendour. Be it rich or poor, the weddings are always a grand function even if one has to borrow money. It was also a social gathering where people updated their knowledge of other people and were ready to pass the already spiced news to other gossipers. Why do people go to weddings like Christmas trees? People should at least have a sense of colour while using clothes and ornaments and should make sure if it suits them or not. Last but not the least people should follow the basic table manners. Nobody is happy to touch a spoon with others leftovers on it!! I personally feel that weddings should be a function limited to a very small crowd and it should be very simple. Though I am of this opinion I really don’t know if I’ll be able to follow this when it comes to my daughter’s marriage. It is easy to preach but difficult to practice, right???

Are we Indians poor?

This is a question I often ask myself? I have always felt that people from other countries look down on us. They are not willing to accept that India has the necessary manpower and resources to become a prosperous country. They still consider us poor and underdeveloped.


I had an experience when I visited Malaysia a few years back. My family – my husband, daughter and myself were there. We were put up at a place called Petaling Jaya near KL. As many of my relatives lived in different parts of Malaysia I made it a point to visit the elderly aunts of mine. An aunt of mine stayed at Johor Baru. It was an overnight journey from KL to JB. Johor was mainly an estate region. I reached there on a Father’s Day. There was a get together of the parishioners of Johor at my aunt’s place. The morning we reached there, she was busy preparing food for the celebration. She told us that we were their special guests and my husband had to take part in the celebrations as he was a father too.

By evening the guests started arriving one by one. Most of them were Chinese and Malays. There were just a couple of Indian families too. As it was a party, I dressed up in a party wear - a laced frock and wore a gold belt around my waist. People kept coming and we were introduced to their guests. Finally the priest arrived. He was a Chinese. When he heard that we were from India, his eyes popped out of his sockets and exclaimed…

“You don’t look poor!!!” (How could I look poor when I had excess flesh all over my body??!!!)

“Who told you that we are poor, father?” I asked without showing my irritation

“I thought Indians were poor,” he replied, still in disbelief.

I told him that all Indians were not poor. There were poor Indians as well as well to do Indians. He was also surprised to find us talk in English. I was thoroughly irritated. Did he think that we Indians were barbarians? Or did he think that we knew only our regional language just like how the Chinese did? I argued with him. I made sure it did not become a heated one as I did not want to embarrass my aunt and spoil the occasion.

Finally the priest said, “You don’t look like an Indian.”
I did not argue with him over that because this was some thing that I have been hearing ever since I can remember (I don’t know from where I got my alien look). Many people mistake me for a Malay or at least they think that I am of a ‘hybrid variety’.

That visit really made my opened. Why were we always being targeted? In every country there are well-to-do people as well as poor people? Are there not poor people in China? Are there not poor people in USA, or in England or in any other developed country? Poverty is a relative term and the degree of poverty varies from country to country. Why did the priest think that all Indians were poor? Why did the people of Malaysia think that Indians did not know English? The very thought was disturbing.

In most of the foreign magazines and in flight magazines one can find the dirty side of India. The pictures published are the ones taken from the interior most villages in India. It can be a girl who has not bathed for days or a snake charmer’s picture or the dhobi washing the clothes, or a tribal woman in all those multi-coloured bangles and head dress. You might remember how a foreigner was caught photographing all the dirt found on the road sides. Why did he do so? Is it because there are no good places in Kerala that he had to photograph the waste strewn all over? No wonder people believe that we are poor people from a poor country.

The Indians who migrated to Malaysia in the 1940’s, 50’s and 60’s are still of the opinion that India is very backward. Most of the Indians went there to work in plantations, married Indian brides and settled there. They had big families and it was not possible for them to come to India due to financial problems. Their idea about India is still the undeveloped India of the 50’s!!! They are still in their 1950’s!!!! They have painted a very bad picture of India to their children. Their children still believe that India is undeveloped with bullock carts on roads and people ate rice in the morning, afternoons and evenings. The children also believed that no foreign brands of food items or any other stuff were available in India.

A cousin of mine visited us a couple of years back. She is living in Canada and is married to a German. It was her first visit to India. She had born and brought up in Malaysia and then migrated to Canada. As she did not know India, she brought her mother along with her. The picture the mother gave her about India was a very bad one. This cousin of mine came with two very big suitcases for her short stay of ten days.

The first morning she bought out a packet of Quaker oats and said that she had the habit of having oats in the morning. I asked her as to why she had brought that packet; she replied that she thought we wouldn’t have oats at home. She brought biscuits, potato wafers and a whole lot of eatables. I was thoroughly irritated but did not say a word. After all she was my guest. (It is better not to have such guests!!!) She wouldn’t drink the water from our place. She felt the water in India had e-coli germs in it. She bought a carton of mineral water for her use. (Lucky that she did not bring that too from Canada) Poor soul doesn’t know that the mineral water was the most unsafe thing to drink!!!!

Two days after she arrived I had to do a bit of shopping. This cousin came along with me to the Spencer’s at Spencer junction. She went around looking from rack to rack and she was surprised to find everything that she had brought available in India. She started scrutinizing the prices, then converting it to dollars. She then exclaimed,

“The prices are the same here and in Canada.”

I just kept mum. She came home and told my aunt,

“Mum, you get everything here. You were the one who told me that nothing was available in India.”

I understood who the culprit was. Then this cousin told me the instructions my aunt had given her before she came to India were many. My aunt told her that people in India never wore knee length dresses. So she was supposed to bring knee length dresses, shorts or Bermudas. She had to wear loose fitting tops. She had to wear gold and so went the list. When was shocked to find me wearing Bermudas and knee length frocks. She then understood what her mother had told her was all crap. This aunt who left India in the 1950’s hasn’t changed her mindset. She was not aware of the changes that have taken place in India. Or was she not willing to accept the changes that took place in India? The feeling that these Malaysians (All people living there from different origins) have is that we are all very poor and we go there in seek of some favour. They never realize that we are living in a much better position here.

Before I conclude, let me tell you another experience. This happened just a few years ago. My husband had to attend a conference in Japan. So my daughter and I stayed with my co-brother at Singapore. My mother-in-law rang me up asked me to visit a few relatives of my husband. Very frankly I don’t like visiting relatives because of their snobbish attitude and the way they look down on relatives who come from India. When my husband got back from Japan I passed him the information my mother-in-law had asked me to. Finally we decided to go to one aunt’s place and one of my husband’s friends took us there. We went there and it was a cousin of my husband who opened the door. He said that his mother was bathing. He made us sit there and he wouldn’t talk to us. He was keeping aloof from us. Though we tried talking he looked very uncomfortable. He just wouldn’t talk to us. He spoke to that friend of ours. It was then that friend said that my husband had just returned from Japan after a conference. Suddenly this guy’s eyes opened wide and started talking to my husband. My husband told him that he had a doctorate in Astrophysics and that he was continuing his work in that field. I was really irritated. Until then he looked down upon us and now he was talking so freely. It seems he was a secondary teacher. I asked him which subject he taught in school and he replied Physics and Chemistry.

“So…. do u have post graduate degree in Physics …..or in Chemistry?” I asked

“No, I don’t have a post graduate degree” he replied feeling a bit awarkard

“How can you teach in a secondary section without a post graduation?”

He told me he taught up to Class X and a degree was sufficient. He really felt belittled. I really wanted him to feel belittled. I know it was very wrong on my part to do that but I just wanted him to know that we were much more superior to them. I just wanted them to know that we did not want any favours from them. I also wanted them to know that we were in no way inferior to them and that we held respectable positions in India.

Indians should realize that they are in no way inferior to the rest of the world. We Indians have the potential to become world’s no 1 economy if politics and religion doesn’t play a role in hampering the developments and the mindset of the people.