The American Who Went Desi:)

My American Professor Todd Crossett, just got back from India. He was there on a three month sabbatical. Before leaving he invited me to his home, where his wonderful wife Anne, and two beautiful sons welcomed me with open arms. His dog Kabbah (short for Kabaddi) licked my face:P They baked pizza for me and made apple pie:) Loved it. They spoke about India, a lot. Anne lived in Madurai for two years and speaks fluent Tamil. She was an exchange student. The year was 1986. She was not to come to India but had to out of compulsion. When she got here she was shocked at the way of life. Living in a small town like Madurai was unbearable. Two years down the line she didn't want to leave.

Todd her boyfriend in the US, missed her a lot. He was not doing too great in life. But claimed he felt like a sociologist, and secured a seat as a PHD student. He went to Anne's mother to claim Anne's hand, like any respectful man. Anne's mother told him that since she was in India, Todd should go there and see if she was ok. Todd came to India then, to meet Anne.

Todd and Anne fell more madly in love in India. Todd says "I could never hold her hand in public!!! it was India and it just did not feel right". He stayed in India for 3 months. And they both returned and got married in 88.

They had never been to India since but it never left them. They always wanted to go back. And they finally did..

Todd emailed me the day their flight landed in Chennai and then they reached Madurai. Dee I'm in this amazing village for Pongal, Dee I watched a state Kabaddi game today and the stadium seating was made of bamboo, Dee I played cricket for the first time today, and I was absolutely hopeless, Dee there is not a single day that we don't think of you and how difficult studying this program must be for you, how the hell are you managing? Dee you're right! this nation is cricket obsessed, i get what your saying finally, they'd kill to watch cricket from the balcony at Lords wouldn't they?:) ... yeah Todd they would, I know I would:P

In the meanwhile a friend of mine who had completed his sport management in the UK, Sorabh (Also known as Topi), was just making his way back into India to work with a Non profit organization Sportzvillage in Bangalore. Topi is an IITian who took the plunge into sport management. Topi and I never met. We used to chat of and on. But I knew he was going back to India and I happened to tell him about Todd. Topi thought it was a wonderful opportunity for all of us that a Dr of sport sociology was in Madurai! He took a bus from Bangalore to Madurai, a 10 hour journey. Hats of to him! He thought in the bus "Why am I doing this, I hardly even know Deepika, I haven't even met her, Who is this man? He may just ignore me in an hours time…"

Topi met Todd Crossett who welcomed him into his house, welcomed him into his family. Sat and spoke to him for hours on end about sports in India and sports in US, took him grocery shopping, took him for breakfast, lunch and dinner and paid for all of it because he 'was the elder one'.

Topi replied to me saying that it was of the best days of his life. They walked the streets of Madurai, talked to little children about sports, tried to build a business model. He thanked me for giving him the opportunity to meet someone so wonderful.

Todd came back to the US last week. He drove up to my house and had Anne call me to talk about the trip. They want to cook me a full fledged Indian meal with dosas and idlis and chutneys:) Todd told me lets go get some food and talk about sports in India and my observations. I was finally on familiar ground. I grabbed my bag and rushed out. He took me to an Indian restaurant nearby and we spoke for 3 hours on his observations and what needs to be done, with whom the power lies, what children want to watch, how stadiums should be built. He ordered the food, washed his hands before eating. And I ordered rice and started eating it with the spoon. And was ashamed of myself when I saw my American professor sitting opposite me eating rice with his hands…I would never have dreamed that one day I would one day sit in a restaurant in Northampton Massachusetts with an American Professor who loves India and is not embarrassed to eat rice and dal with his hands in a public place…

Its amazing..I thank god everyday for every experience he brings to me..good or bad. I have South African landlords who buy me boondi laddoo and whose house is filled with Indian artifacts, an American Professor who loves India and eats rice with his hands:), an Indian family with my own brother and sister-in-law who will always be there for me, an Australian research prof, who sits and talks to me for hours about cricket because she realizes how much I miss it, a Filipino classmate who encourages me every time I feel like crap and an American friend who knows more about yoga than anyone I have ever met…I must have done something right to deserve to meet such wonderful people...

I don't know how and when all that I have dreamed off will come true, it maybe 5 yrs or 10 yrs or even 20 yrs down the line, but I have everything in the world telling me that it will happen and I won't rest till it does.

Masala Chai and the warmth it brings with it

Shit i didnt write anything yesterday! Eeps...Its funny coz i even opened this webpage..and then i dont know what happened to me. Maybe my good friend Writers Block came in visiting. He visits sometimes. He says nothing, just sits there. And he's like the dementor that sucks all the living energy out of you, and basically leaves you with nothing to say.

So today I had an extremely unproductive day, of course I spoke to a friend for a long time online. A long overdue conversation. He asked me about the man in my life. And then I began telling him the story about the lack of his existance, which took a good 4 hours i think:P Ate lunch ultimately at 4 pm and now its six but i already feel like calling it a day. I feel exhausted, maybe its the typing. My fingers hurt. Maybe its the cold I walked in yesterday.

So yesterday was fun, walked in the cold to a Tibetan Rest. downtown, where they serve hot hot chai. It kinda woke me up. I'm living my life pretty much like a parasite thats feeding on the bed. I deserve it after a horrible horrible semester!:D So she served me the chai, and we spoke about Bombay and Nepal and Madhya Pradesh, and other things that made us happy. It was nice.

I froze to death while walking back home. But the only thing that comforted me was the fact that, that chai had a touch of my grandmothers style. It had that warmth. And that much sugar...and a very similar taste. Not close, but the closest you can dream of having in a foreign country thousands of miles away from yr grandmother.

Yeah thats what it was..

Nani ke haath ki chai..

I drink to the warmth it has...

Sip.

Slurp:)

Being Blissfully Unaware:)

You know I would stand for hours sometimes and watch cricket being played Oval Maidan. I think I was the only "townie" chick who ever did that. And I'm proud of saying it. I knew I was different, I knew this since I was about 15, infact I even remember the phase in which I had this wonderful realisation. I was taking my tenth standard board exams, and as I was climbing the stairs in that very tense hallway, all I could think of was the match that was live on TV. My man was to play, Rahul Dravid...and My other main man Azhar was the Captain of the team then, and of course there was the third man, Ajay Jadeja who was the only sports person i looked at in a very girly way, which sometimes annoyed the hell out of me.

And as I headed upward on the stairs, I saw a classmate of mine tear down the hallway downstairs with this newspaper in her hands, and she waved it frantically at me. I turned to go back downward to see what the fuss was about. It was a huge giagntic write-up on Rahul Dravid. She was just so excited to show it to me. She didnt know anything about cricket, and never watched it but she knew who I was, she knew what it meant to me..hence her excitement.

That was a moment when i realised, I was very different from anyone in that room, atleast every woman in that room..and I couldn't let that realisation go to waste. I mean how many people have the luck and good fortune of such a realisation. Its all there, in every one of us...but to bring it out in the open and allow yrself to dream and be it, is totally different.

The hot sun never bothered me...the lack of water hardly mattered...the fact that i was surrounded by 40,000 stinky sweaty men didnt deter me..when I had to watch that match, I had to. I pushed when I had to, chanted when I had to..abused and behaved like the rest of them when i had to. Not to be accepted by them, but to get into the spirit of the true Indian spectator. The one that toils so hard, whose life is filled with cares and making ends meet, and he escapes through Hindi films, or over a glass of Desi daaru...or he watches Cricket...

So I stand and stare at Oval Maidan, after doing other strange things that the Townies do, like going to Cafe Mocha at Churchgate, watching a movie at Eros, or buying music at Groove...taking a stroll at the Oxford bookstore.... go to the footpaths of churchgate and buy old copies of National Geographic and Time Magazine...and stand there and stare at people play cricket...and I watch them laugh and enjoy the moment and I envied them, they were completely unaware of their surroundings, their eyes travelled to wherever the ball went. They were one with the game, and thoroughly enjoying the feeling. It was beautiful.

I always wanted to experience that feeling, being so involved with whatever I was doing that it left me completely unaware of what was happening around me..Music and sport allow you to do that..its like this moment..where 'Do Kadam' plays in the background, and I create this new post on the passion of sport..priceless.

There are somethings that money can buy, for the rest there's always a chance to experience happiness at Oval.

When you held my hand...

Its been so long since I wrote anything in this space..its strange, a feeling of being naked, the stories of my everyday life are like layers of clothing I wear in the cold, and as I tell them to the unknown, I feel each layer getting pealed of my body, there's no place left to hide anymore.

And as I walked along the lonely path
I never thought I would face life’s wrath
And as I stepped out of the wood
I saw the road that led to no where
And I never felt so driven
To walk toward something that led to nothing
To imagine what nothing could be
To feel focused for the first time in years
To learn to be happy walking
To learn to be happy alone
To learn to be happy with nothing
And there I saw you on the horizon that meant nothing
And you walked closer toward me
You smiled, no words exchanged
You held my hand and left me with nothingness.

Another time, another place

Its amazing how much you take things for granted what when they come to you easy and the realisation of this is even more awful. Being away from home hasn't been easy, its made me a hell of a lot tougher though, and thats something no one can take away from me now, for the rest of my life:) Diwali was sourly missed. The smell of the food, the frangrance of incense and the air that it embraced. The dash of haldi and masala and moms love poured into the food that made it taste wonderful. The sweets that filled the house, and monopolized the fridge space. Neighbours and friends, coming home. The lamp hanging outside the window, and the light that came through from that lamp at nights when the rest of the house had switched off. The sound of crackers bursting, the smoke that filled the air and it made it impossible to breath, the gurgle in the laughter, watching mom drape her saree before pooja. Dad cleaning the house with mom, bringing home sweets. All taken for granted...

And when i travel a 1000 miles away from home, Its not diwali i remember, its the little things that make Diwali, the fragrances, the prayers, the laughter and the feeling of goodness. This year was different, had me alone in a room.. i was lost , i was lost..crossed lines i shouldn't have crossed , i was lost, oh yeah....

Couldn't sleep, slept at around 2 am eventually. Woke up, decided today is going to be better. Went upstairs and cooked, and it healed me. Healed my wounded soul. The aromas came close to 'home' and i called dad and mom, to hear their voices..and for a whole of ten mins..it felt almost the same...I realise they mean the world to me.

My landlady came in and told me that she's going to take me to the Indian restaurant for dinner, with their family friends. I was so touched, i hugged her and again and again...maybe i travelled a thousand miles to experience the warmth of a foreigner, maybe i travelled to teach others how much home meant to me, to fill someone else's kitchens with the fragrances that used to fill mine....

Or maybe this quest is just to understand, that the greatest happiness comes when you learn to be happy alone

defining moment
yeah, many of us have these in life...defining moments...i had one of these just yesterday, when i stood in front of my almost all american class to talk about globalization of sport along with two other international students.
and i spoke, like i never did since i got to the United States. I responded to every qs shot at us. very confidently and in well constructed sentences. it was amazing how the words came..like it was destined.
the struggle to come into this country, leave behind everything i ever knew to get here, to face this struggle of feeling alienated and lonely, to miss cricket...to feel hunger, pain and taste the salt of my tears..and exhaustion...the struggle is endless
the only things i carried with me from home, are my dreams to see Indian sport reach invincible heights...the blessings of my parents, and friends...
and then when the words came so easily, it all felt so worth it, in that one moment..when my classmates patted me on the back and said, "good job dee, that was so impressive"...
if only they had an idea of what all went behind that one moment...

I have just been informed that my blog has been created..yay! Man, now if only i knew what to write ... but look its the second line already..