Jet lag long gone, but the hangover from my India trip lingers on. Spent some quality time with family. Met friends where Nostalgia flowed with the Vodka and Scotch we sipped. Already miss the all pervading exotic food and effervescent attention. Friends and relatives there leave no stones unturned in showing and showering with hospitality, as in our Indian tradition, ATITHI DEVA BHAWA or Service to Guest is considered as Service to God.
Whenever I am in India, I always wish to attend a marriage ceremony, where the food carried by buckets is served on KHALI (leaf) plates. My hope is belied time and again, my last trip being no exception. I frantically scanned several invitation cards scattered across our house. But to my dismay, all had reception venues in premium hotels and other exotic locations.
So one fine evening, I stepped into the elevator (lift) of a Hotel to attend a reception. No sooner than the pair of doors closed behind, than someone let out a silent, sneaky one from behind. The cramped, crowded, claustrophobic elevator kept ascending, so also the unbearable stink inside it. I could see a few squeezing their noses, some cringing and swaying their face in disgust. I tilted my head towards the person next to me to inhale as much as the cheap perfume he was wearing. All standing inside posed an evasive "Not I" look on their face. As I stepped out of the elevator gasping for some fresh air, I heard a fading voice - "CHHEE, CHHEE (yucky, yucky)". Some one should put a banner in Bold Letter "Please don't Fa*t inside Elevator, it's rude".
Relieved upon reaching the venue, I stumbled upon a few folks, whom I met after a long time. For them a decade ago stepping into a 5 star Hotel would have been one of the "Things to Do Before I Die". With their newly acquired wealth, their profile has undergone a drastic transformation. A few who instantly recognized me, grimaced and engaged me in conversation. Earlier they used to respond to my NAMASTE (Indian tradition of welcoming with folded hands) with theirs. Now little confused, bending a bit, they extended their hand or two towards me for handshake.
Like many restrooms (toilets) in India are equipped with both Eastern style lavatories and Western style commodes, they have a dual identity. They were struggling to adapt at both, trying to make a Blender's Pride of their own. They tried their best to bridge this hiatus of sudden change in status, by punching their Odia vocabulary with a few verb less and syntax less English. But it hardly worked. Apparently Money can by rich, but can't enrich one's class and etiquette.
One of them ensconced me to a corner, and cornered me with queries about America, especially about its KALLEJE (college pronounced in thick Odia accent) and if someone will became a CHHATARA (girl chasing vagabond) if he goes their for higher studies. He was interested in sending his kid to Coke Land, which of late, has become a fad back home.
Nothing wrong in that, for America has arguably some of the best Schools (as KALLEJE is called here). He expressed his desire, that his son should study KAMUTARA SAINSI (Computer Science). I asked him the reason behind his preference for Computers to other subjects, whether his son has real hunger for that subject. Per him, his son spends hours on Facebook chatting and plays various Computer Games, which makes him highly eligible for higher studies in Computers in United States. Good luck.
From their facial expression I could make it out, though thrilled from realizing their dream and being the Nouveau Riche of the town, they still did not feel quite comfortable in the milieu. During my conversion they gave me an hint of their mind - that many are still unable to accept them and their newly acquired status in public, though they feel they have earned it. It is like people who board a town bus, once they are on board, they dont want others to share their space.
Welcome to the Club folks. Like you, many (including me) have migrated from Eastern Style toilet to Western Commode. But remember, what goes around comes around. I would advise them to visit and contemplate at SWARGADWAR (Gateway to Heaven) cremation ground. One day, all the money and accomplishment will go like smoke from the funeral pyre, swirl and vanish up in the air. A much recommended read would be the famous poem OZYMANDIAS, by the great English Poet Percy Bissy Shelly - all the glory and glamor is destined to be soiled into oblivion in sands of time. Nothing lasts forever. DAULAT AUR JAWANI, EK DIN KHO JATI HAI. One day, Wealth (possibly) and Youth (definitely) wander away.
Whenever I am in India, I always wish to attend a marriage ceremony, where the food carried by buckets is served on KHALI (leaf) plates. My hope is belied time and again, my last trip being no exception. I frantically scanned several invitation cards scattered across our house. But to my dismay, all had reception venues in premium hotels and other exotic locations.
So one fine evening, I stepped into the elevator (lift) of a Hotel to attend a reception. No sooner than the pair of doors closed behind, than someone let out a silent, sneaky one from behind. The cramped, crowded, claustrophobic elevator kept ascending, so also the unbearable stink inside it. I could see a few squeezing their noses, some cringing and swaying their face in disgust. I tilted my head towards the person next to me to inhale as much as the cheap perfume he was wearing. All standing inside posed an evasive "Not I" look on their face. As I stepped out of the elevator gasping for some fresh air, I heard a fading voice - "CHHEE, CHHEE (yucky, yucky)". Some one should put a banner in Bold Letter "Please don't Fa*t inside Elevator, it's rude".
Relieved upon reaching the venue, I stumbled upon a few folks, whom I met after a long time. For them a decade ago stepping into a 5 star Hotel would have been one of the "Things to Do Before I Die". With their newly acquired wealth, their profile has undergone a drastic transformation. A few who instantly recognized me, grimaced and engaged me in conversation. Earlier they used to respond to my NAMASTE (Indian tradition of welcoming with folded hands) with theirs. Now little confused, bending a bit, they extended their hand or two towards me for handshake.
Like many restrooms (toilets) in India are equipped with both Eastern style lavatories and Western style commodes, they have a dual identity. They were struggling to adapt at both, trying to make a Blender's Pride of their own. They tried their best to bridge this hiatus of sudden change in status, by punching their Odia vocabulary with a few verb less and syntax less English. But it hardly worked. Apparently Money can by rich, but can't enrich one's class and etiquette.
One of them ensconced me to a corner, and cornered me with queries about America, especially about its KALLEJE (college pronounced in thick Odia accent) and if someone will became a CHHATARA (girl chasing vagabond) if he goes their for higher studies. He was interested in sending his kid to Coke Land, which of late, has become a fad back home.
Nothing wrong in that, for America has arguably some of the best Schools (as KALLEJE is called here). He expressed his desire, that his son should study KAMUTARA SAINSI (Computer Science). I asked him the reason behind his preference for Computers to other subjects, whether his son has real hunger for that subject. Per him, his son spends hours on Facebook chatting and plays various Computer Games, which makes him highly eligible for higher studies in Computers in United States. Good luck.
From their facial expression I could make it out, though thrilled from realizing their dream and being the Nouveau Riche of the town, they still did not feel quite comfortable in the milieu. During my conversion they gave me an hint of their mind - that many are still unable to accept them and their newly acquired status in public, though they feel they have earned it. It is like people who board a town bus, once they are on board, they dont want others to share their space.
Welcome to the Club folks. Like you, many (including me) have migrated from Eastern Style toilet to Western Commode. But remember, what goes around comes around. I would advise them to visit and contemplate at SWARGADWAR (Gateway to Heaven) cremation ground. One day, all the money and accomplishment will go like smoke from the funeral pyre, swirl and vanish up in the air. A much recommended read would be the famous poem OZYMANDIAS, by the great English Poet Percy Bissy Shelly - all the glory and glamor is destined to be soiled into oblivion in sands of time. Nothing lasts forever. DAULAT AUR JAWANI, EK DIN KHO JATI HAI. One day, Wealth (possibly) and Youth (definitely) wander away.
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