15 May 2004
Of 'popsicles' n sleep
These days, everyone has them - ‘NRI’ cousins, I mean. Even more so if you hail from a typically Hyderabadi family (Telugu, to be precise). Those far, yet close members of your extended family who decide to ‘find their roots’ in the stinking gullies of Abids (or Himayatnagar, or Domalguda) every once in a while.
Those who come with their princely entourage of ‘bottled water’, ‘Vitamin Pills’ and enough cartons of macaroni and cheese to see them through in case of a sudden drought. Sudden droughts and floods, you see, are fairly common in a ‘developing’ country like India.
I had an amazing encounter with a six year old American kid who actually asked me if we still traveled on elephants in India, and if there were snake charmers on every street corner. Well, you kind of let that comment pass if it’s coming from a kid who has her impossibly blue eyes forming ‘O’s in wonder. And if I wasn’t the six year kid that I was at that point, I probably would have done more than just choke on my ‘popsicle’.
I am yet to come across a Hyderabadi who didn’t sit through ‘Hyderabad Blues’ saying ‘tell me about it’ every time there was a dialogue delivery.
Anyways, coming back to the NRI brigade. There are some images that tend to stick in your mind, enduring all tests of time. Like the distinct ‘American’ smell that seems to emanate from every pore of their beings. It’s the smell that announces ‘We’ve arrived’ all the way from the airport lounge. Or the endless cartons of ‘gum’ they seemed to have lugged all the way across the seven seas.
I’ve stopped questioning why the entire family (including grandmom, great grandmom and the family cook) insist on waking up at 4am to receive them. Or why the entire brigade of family cars (bursting at the doors, I might add) has to brave the early morning smog to stand outside the airport entrance in anticipation.
All this to welcome home the prodigal family, and what do you know, the jet lag starts to kick in only moments after. It doesn’t matter - the cook is still whipping up ‘vedi vedi’ (um..hot hot) dosa’s, grandma is bustling about and already making the next batch of mango pickle, and relatives are pouring in from window to catch a glimpse of their favorite people in the whole world.
Now, say you’re this seven year old kid eagerly awaiting her cousins’ return, and damn, you want them to hurry up and give out the presents. But jet lag is jet lag, you can’t play with nature. However, as you get slightly older and wiser, you learn to battle the jet-lag in clever ways.
For instance, you can follow them around all the way from the door, to their bedrooms keeping up an endless chatter about what you’re dog did that morning. The secret is to never pause for a breath. And then, when they unzip the first Jansport backpack, wham! - start jumping around like a mindless imp and they might get the hint and hand out your ‘present’. If this doesn’t work, I think it might be best to go give your dog company the rest of the jet-lagged summer.
A much more mature and balanced view of this ‘NRI phenomena can be found in a book called ‘The Namesake’ by Jhumpa Lahiri. However, not all of us find it in our hearts to treat it as just another event, and prefer to alleviate it to the status of ‘blog content of the day’! Time to go find another popsicle, what say?
Current Mood: Wicked
Current Music: Sade- King of Sorrow
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