How can I even begin to write what I’ve experienced in these last four and a half months?
It would be a great injustice to a trip which has effectively changed the course of my life (in more ways than one) not to attempt to explain what I’ve experienced, but the fact that my senses have literally been attacked, ripped apart and rewoven makes it hard to conceptualize my often neurotic feelings.
A friend of mine asks me to describe the sights, sounds and smells…. the real ‘nitty gritty’ of South Asia. But I don’t want to compartmentalize and any attempt to do so will result in me looking foolish, misguided or naive, in my view.
Therefore, I guess this in itself functions as a disclaimer that these are merely my feelings of looking back in hindsight over the past four-plus months. In an emotionalist-realist sense, they are therefore reasonably valid and true. Or for the more astute readers among you, it’s probably more likely to be my anxiety of not measuring up that makes me so nervous about writing anything ‘really real’ (anything about me, that is).
Where to start? A dark muggy night in Mumbai, I suppose. Sitting cross-legged in an overpriced Mumbai hotel room, awash with insecurity, anxiety and panic.
Being greeted after an exhausting journey to a dark July night, the heavy intensity of Mumbai’s heady concoction of shit, misery, poverty, sex and hope intertwined. I emerged out of the airport and immediately into a taxi, designed to shuffle ‘memsahibs’ like me to their destination of choice. I can’t remember the name of mine, but I do remember feeling incredibly unsafe in that lonely hotel room, but not seeming to care as the cold water poured onto my aching body.
A hectic journey to Kerala followed the next morning. An expensive flight south to ‘God’s Own Country’ (or so the tourist posters say) and a cheap four hour train journey north from Kochi. Exhaustion, vulnerability and being stared at by the majority of people in the carriage. Being rescued by two wonderful nuns from Calcutta who were on their holidays. Floods of relief as I was met by a bearded savior at Calicut’s train station and already being made to feel at ease by his infectious laughter.
A late arrival to the girls’ hostel. Anxiety was returning as interviews were underway. Where was I from? How old was I? What was my husband’s name? Lawyers, microbiologists and zoologists firing questions at me. How was I to measure up? And I, supposedly their teacher? Familiar feelings of inadequacy returned as I tried to answer their questions.
As the caution and wariness (from both sides) began to dissipate and the orientation programme drew to a close, another journey ensued. Up to the Capital with Air India. High maintenance academics, vibrant saris and oily food in darbars.
Frustration began to surface as I experienced one of Asia’s premier engineering institutions. A green haven amidst a sea of poverty. Anger at the obvious paradox of employing children. Confusion over my role. And the hot, hot, persistent heat.
10 days of difficulty. Of observing and photographing. Of observing teaching methods and the frustrating arrogance of a bunch of over-educated Mallus. Feeling ignored and tears on the telephone…
A hopeful return to Calicut. Smiles and welcoming from my hostel mates and to-be students. Clucking from a hijab-wearing mother hen. Continuing lack of clarity and a waning of confidence. Growing unhappiness and nightly phone calls to a night owl across an ocean, half a day behind.
Yoga classes with a yoga fascist (accountant by day and yoga crusader by early mornings and evenings). Speeding down the highway in an auto to be bent into ridiculous positons and be told I was fat. Early morning mongooses and late morning mosquitoes. Itching, toothpaste cures and reading, reading, reading.
Anxieties over the impending new arrival which was causing much excitement among the faculty. A newer model. How was I to measure up?
She arrived bandaged and injured after a car accident in Delhi.
Hospital visits ensued and an unlikely acquaintance made in the form of Dr K.
Worries were immediately crushed as the woman I’d heard so much about became a friend. Mutual frustration over the relaxed approach to, well, everything. Weekly curry and beer at one of Calicuts seemingly only bars.
Love, lust, hope and our futures were discussed, critiqued and analysed by the foreign woman. To say she helped me believe in myself, “to be frank”, is an understatement.
Mutual frustration over the work situation began to reach boiling point. Wonderful students. Fulfilling sessions and tutorials. Developing friendships and building respect. Realising I was learning more by talking to my beautiful Indian hostel mates about marriage, love and their religions and cultures than I ever did in a stuffy academic institution. Experiences of heartache and heartbreak were shared… it obviously cuts across borders.
A much anticipated mini-break. Sea, sun, sand and … ayurveda. Beer on the balcony. Snoozing on the beach. Sunburn. Lush beaches. Squealing hysterically in the Indian ocean and falling among crashing waves. Watching the sunset and aching for something. A metaphorical sunset on part of my past… resulting from a deception.
A return to the Calico-city. Ongoing flirtations. Midnight phone calls. An early morning beach date. Nerves, excitement and spending too much on straightening my hair.
A crush (with a view to chapatti flipping…) and frantic texting for two weeks before being ditched for being, well, white.
Shopping mall trips. Spending Max-money. Eating out. Meeting Micheal. A flourishing friendship with the beautiful Rellu. Gossip, self-discovery (on her part…)
Trips to Alakapuri for aloo-gobi and beer with C. Giggling wildly. “Bollocks”. A chance meeting, a brief flirtation and the most amazing opportunity which changed the course of my career. Thankyou S – I’ll never forget what you did.
A festival – Onam. Experiencing the best of Keralite hospitality. Sari shopping with S and R. “Gaudy gaudy”sarees (Just to piss V off).
Calicut by night. Long streets and glittering non-silk material. Many feasts. Fancy feasting and meeting the legendary Prof. N and a more traditional affair at the hostel—ladies only, of course. Returning the favour… western music and a club atmosphere for our students. Sweat, bollywood tunes and dancing the night away.
A vacation! The Teak Kingdom and the most wonderful Keralities. A winding bus journey in the fresh monsoon air. Close to the hill stations. A rubber plantation and being eaten alive by mossies. A beautiful house with beautiful people.
Serious ‘RandR’, with R and R, the doctor and the microbiologist. Amazing food by an amazing woman. More sari wearing with beautiful R. Day trips and waterfalls. Becoming one of the family.
A hectic midnight journey to Bangalore, feeling sick and convinced the bus was going to crash.
Being published! Continuing frantic texting with F. A stressful arrival and a grubby apartment. Sightseeing. Job hunting. Interviews and galleries. Italian food with an almost Italian lady.
Shopping, shopping, shopping! Clubbing to celebrate a column!
An Iranian and an Indian – a meerkat and a Sam. After-parties with the dentist and the architect. Drunken pool playing in a bachelor pad. A gorgeous dog. Midnight driving through the city. Falling asleep after spending the night laughing hysterically. A hangover. A return to Calicut…
Being wined and dined by a Professor old enough to be my grandfather. An Anglo-Indian, of sorts. A beautiful, beachside apartment gave into awkwardness…
Developing friendships with the boys. Secretive pub meetings. Women, sex, alcohol and drugs were debated. An opening up and questioning of culture. More beer. Vodka in the hospital and a case of pneumonia.
Heartbreak as culture and religion proves too much of a divide. Frustration for not being a good Muslim Indian. Rejection. A putting back together and introspection. A crazy night in a fancy hotel. A miserable next day. Confusion and isolation that hung listlessly and refused to budge.
A fancy meal with two fancy people. Brief hope. Sadness as C left. Pleasure over dinner as fame and interest collided. A barrage of questions as I dined with a 20-something senior and his friends. A beach drive. Revelations in a parked car.
An invitation to dinner and a job offer from a druk Muslim.
Shopping with gorgeous D. A farewell work party. Tears and sadness and presents and cake. Realizing how amazing my students were. Feeling so touched.
A high-society event! Sari-clad, Stepford housewives and the British invader as the ‘date’ of the doctor. Nerves as a British fish out of water. A crush? Perhaps.
Frantic packing. Sadness. Tears (from R too!). A train ride. A plane ride. And Delhi. Sleeping in the airport. Meeting Dr. W and being teased. A new friendship across the ocean developed.
An exhausting arrival in beloved Nepal. Sadness to have left Kerala.
A discovery, a deception and discomfort. Coughing. Pollution. Overcrowding. Snapping and feeling horribly out of place. Sharing a room. A total lack of privacy. No clearly defined role. Visiting Sankhu and experiencing confusion. Nothing ever changes. An obvious, private paradox that age has revealed. Hari. A young woman and a confused, waiting man.
Taking matters into my own hands. An interview. More interviews. An amazing offer. Nerves. Research, writing, publication! Politics, baby! N…
Continuing frustration at home. Meeting the wonderful artist-cum-engineer. Arguments. Resentment and boiling point.
Thamel. A chance meeting with K. High-society, imperial and odd.
Dashain in Sankhu. Controversy over an article. Meat, discomfort and cards! More work, more frustration with G.B at home. Arguments over keys and cooking. An absent family and a much-loved empty apartment.
Dinner at K’s. Followed by red wine. Followed by R.E.M. Followed by hazy memories. Pimms and croquet on the lawn the following day in the White House.
A return of M with a new friend, Ki. Dinner (or a lack of it) at K’s. A nude painting. More wine. More discussion.
Thamel! A night out. The American Embassy! The Radisson! Dancing with the pilot and drinking too much tequila. A questioning of identity with a kiss. Walking off the hangover in the hills of Dhulikhel with I, realizing some home truths about culture. Dinner at the Israeli restaurant and a hot bath and tv in the Radisson. Thankyou Mr American.
Working ridiculous hours. Exhaustion. Frustration. Churning out the articles.
Dinner with B, the environmental engineer. A night walk around the stupa and lighting candles. A classical fullmoon concert and motorcycle rides through the sleeping city. A dance bar and too much rum.
A blast from the past. Spending all night talking to someone I should have let go of a long time ago.
Return of Das Wiesel and the clan. A clean slate. Editing a book. Funding opportunities. Laughter ringing throughout the apartment. Nightly phone calls from someone I began to care about far too much from the land of coconuts and mosquitoes.
A friendship developing with K. More wine. Tihar: saris and candles. An invitation. A thousand dollar holiday for free. Revealing to the other K, the Kerala-K, how I feel and being unable to remember the response.
Confusion, self-doubt. Spending too much time focusing the wrong things.
Career progression. Senior female politicians versus the journalist. Features! Experience. Learning.
Regular coffee and cake with P, the ”bloody Newar.” Exchanging ideas over beer.
A birthday. A cinema trip with P followed by South Indian food and the most thoughtful gift ever… I miss you Mr. Artist.
Drunken dancing with M. Gin, vodka, redbull? Hazy. Champagne and a hotel with M. A walk of shame. Birthday burrito. A party. Cake. An office farewell. Tea with “the boss”.
Turning 25 in the city of hocus-pocus. Ruby red jewellery presents and the exchange of love, gifts and promises. A teary ride to the airport and a long over-due return to the UK, via the Middle East.
Kathmandu, you repulse me and intrigue me. I love you and I’ll see you soon. x
