“Will you people come for my daughter’s wedding? Chicken will be there….briyani will be there”! Each time Oliver Reavell and Sophie Quick heard this, they were baffled. “I wondered whether this is a question, an invitation or a piece of information!” says Sophie. And there were times when Oliver felt tempted to say, “No, sorry…I don’t want to meet either Mr.Chicken or Ms.Briyani!”
Both were in the Temple Town as part of a British Council project to teach in a city school. When they left home, they were aware it is going to be an engaging experience in a new culture. After staying here, they were able to appreciate a new way of living and lifestyle. And now before leaving, they are convinced that India can change you, if you let it!
They have mastered the art of eating with their hands. Found joy in wearing Indian attires. Sophie loved the kurtis and leggings and also wore saree on several occasions with as much ease as Oliver tied a lungi to his waist for attending a wedding.
The bustle of the congested city, the movement of the people, the honking of the cars, the threateningly speeding buses and the blissfully erring two-wheelers on the city roads wracked their nerves initially. But fast they learnt that ‘the rule is there are no rules here’. Says Oliver, “I was amazed to see how people are always in a rush and know exactly how to find their way and where to go.” There was always an order in the chaos and music in the madness, he adds.
In fact, there was not a single moment when Sophie and Oliver felt or thought they could not function here. They may have been exhausted or found situations challenging but as both say, it always ended with some surprise.
“God knows best” is something they heard umpteen times and realise how people here give importance to the presence of the unseen. It is a joy to acquaint with the colours and flavours, the multiple moods and vibrancy of India, says Oliver. But it can truly be a radical transformation for any foreigner in the country. If Oliver got used to the direct speaking style of the people, Sophie was extremely comfortable in, what she says, “the indoor dresses ladies wear at home (the nighties).” She even tried wearing one to dinner much to the hilarity of her hosts. The saree she loved as a gorgeous wear but could never fathom how it is a daily women wear in such humid climate. Both discovered the delights of hair oil though Sophie always struggled with the frizz. “My hair was never so unmanageable,” she says and remains in awe of women here who tie their hair neatly and pin those strings of jasmine.
But at the end of it all before saying ‘goodbye’ to India, they reiterate, everything is okay in India. “It always was and it always will be.”
The unanswered questions of a foreigner
“Dull" is a word I had, until now, associated only with a cloudy sky but am now fully aware it can be used to describe my face after a day walking around Madurai.
In Britain, over-politeness and assurance reign supreme ("Oh no, I'm sorry that you stepped on my foot, no it was my fault for putting it there"; "Please if it's not too much trouble would you possibly be able to pass me the butter? ") so the blunt phrasing still catches me a little. Whether it's informing me of my current physical appearance or insisting that I do/eat/take something I'm taken aback by what seems like an order. I've begun to understand that directness indicates familiarity. Indians only speak bluntly to show formality has faded and we are good friends, while in the UK I would speak as courteously to my family as I would to strangers.
My pronunciation of daughter (daw-ter) received only blank looks and a confused back and forth until I realised my mistake (daaa-ta). Regional accents differ in the UK but rarely to the extent that I am unintelligible. This has been largely inconsequential, apart from when giving directions in an auto. A little trickier is the difference in what phrases mean - "you people" is considered a slightly offensive generalising term in UK, but here just means "you guys". Also the term "making arrangements" is as nondescript as the head wobble. Here is where directness would be appreciated; sometimes our day-to-day can be a little confusing as we know arrangements have been made but not precisely what they are.
Another difference is found in the adventures in the bathroom! The big bucket is always brimming with water, the little scoochy hose thing or the little mug…, in fact I'm not sure how I'll do without all these now when I return to UK.
This seems to be a world where traffic lights are more of a suggestion, where "they're a good driver" mostly means "regardless of their reckless behaviour no one has yet perished at their hand", seatbelts are a laughable suggestion and nobody other than the cows has right of way.
The terribly dangerous but admittedly innovative use of certain vehicles to transport unexpected items has turned my head a couple of times - three young men transporting a large bed frame on a scooty by wedging it upright between them, a brand new fridge held in place on the back of a cycle rickshaw with a bit of string... surprises on the road are never far.
Blaring of the horns was initially a shock but I realise now it is merely announcing a driver’s presence rather than an indication of anger like it is in the UK. The casual honking is born out of necessity here, as the every-man-for-himself attitude means other drivers will not be looking for you. The seemingly arbitrary use of signals and the signs on trucks saying "blow horn" suggest that regardless of what vehicle you're driving, keep your eyes on the road and don't worry too much about what that huge bus speeding up behind you is doing.
One thing I still struggle to traverse is a function. It seems weddings, parties, ceremonies are a reason for a photo shoot. I can only sympathise with the poor person of honour whose cheeks must be aching after posing with hundreds of guests – all for the photograph album. It is also true that forming a line is an efficient way to ensure every person is able to interact with them and as a “Britisher” I do love a queue.
But finally, what exactly is a Britisher? We don't have this word in the UK so I'm not sure if it’s a term of endearment, an insult or something that is made up.
Either way, this ‘Britisher’ would like to thank all those who welcomed us warmly, made us comfortable with food, hospitality and friendship and helped us to make this trip memorable for ever. -- SOPHIE QUICK
