On the terrace. A hot summer night and the Spaniard's wife fanned herself constantly. This habitual practice of cooling herself down gave one the impression that the fan was an extension of her anatomy. And so it might have been. It was a dinner party, 'for friends'. But I did not even know them. Nor would I think of strangers as friends just because, by some accident, we happen to be in the same party. I would like to believe that I was indifferent then but this compulsive need to be honest compels me to say that I was not. Of course I did not dislike them. But there was some kind of resilience on my part - partly angry, partly afraid.
I was angry because I was left out even though I was there, drinking beer, eating tortillas, sitting at the plastic table among white folk. (Sunita must have enjoyed their company!) I was simply left out as if I was some furniture. Or not even that. Because they ran short of chairs . They were saddened by the dearth of chairs!. But no one even truly cared for my presence. And why was I afraid? Because I
did not want them to include me. I did not want to be taken by the collar to whichever dimension they were from. As if my world was lesser; I am not sure if I am ready to pass into another world, not when I'm unprepared - to be consumed by it!
So, angry and afraid, I kept myself at a distance from them. And it wasn't very difficult to do so. After all, we didn't even speak in the same tongue. Things were going fine, for them and for me, when suddenly one of the women, probably feeling sorry seeing how 'left out' I was, turned towards me, talked and after some unimportant words, irrelevant in this writing (although most of this is irrelevant; but then again, 'What is relevant?) she asked, "Why don't you learn Spanish?" And suddenly everything fell apart. I was at the centre of the table, stripped nude and under the gaze of blue, green and hazel eyes. I don't want to learn Spanish just because I've started meeting them. I have never even thought of learning the language, have never been interested in the culture. Till March of this year, Spain did not even figure in my geography! Not that I'm prejudiced; it's just that there have been too many other things occupying me in the last 22 years.
I said, "Yes, I would." C came to my rescue then; but he has become too weary of speaking to deaf ears. Before he would be thoroughly defensive and do all he could to curb this Spanish imperialism. But now, like me, he too sees that it's healthy to ignore certain things. And for that, I'm grateful.
Perhaps they sensed my silent rebellion against their conquests. And so, they withdrew. And even better, they started speaking in English. To accomodate me! I should be thankful, but you know, sometimes when you feel out of place, the corners become your shelter and you even love the darkness and the anonymity they provide. So, I hated this new spotlight I was given. And spotlights mean performance! So I performed, for their sake and for mine.
Oh yes, here I've deliberately avoided 'the sun and the moon' to embrace my 'idly' self. But you know, the distance between the sun and the idly on my plate is too great for my liking. I wish there was some thread tied to an enormous needle which would stitch the two together. But then again, if I was lost in some deep, dark forest and suddenly the path divided into three, I would never choose the middle one!
I was angry because I was left out even though I was there, drinking beer, eating tortillas, sitting at the plastic table among white folk. (Sunita must have enjoyed their company!) I was simply left out as if I was some furniture. Or not even that. Because they ran short of chairs . They were saddened by the dearth of chairs!. But no one even truly cared for my presence. And why was I afraid? Because I
did not want them to include me. I did not want to be taken by the collar to whichever dimension they were from. As if my world was lesser; I am not sure if I am ready to pass into another world, not when I'm unprepared - to be consumed by it!So, angry and afraid, I kept myself at a distance from them. And it wasn't very difficult to do so. After all, we didn't even speak in the same tongue. Things were going fine, for them and for me, when suddenly one of the women, probably feeling sorry seeing how 'left out' I was, turned towards me, talked and after some unimportant words, irrelevant in this writing (although most of this is irrelevant; but then again, 'What is relevant?) she asked, "Why don't you learn Spanish?" And suddenly everything fell apart. I was at the centre of the table, stripped nude and under the gaze of blue, green and hazel eyes. I don't want to learn Spanish just because I've started meeting them. I have never even thought of learning the language, have never been interested in the culture. Till March of this year, Spain did not even figure in my geography! Not that I'm prejudiced; it's just that there have been too many other things occupying me in the last 22 years.
I said, "Yes, I would." C came to my rescue then; but he has become too weary of speaking to deaf ears. Before he would be thoroughly defensive and do all he could to curb this Spanish imperialism. But now, like me, he too sees that it's healthy to ignore certain things. And for that, I'm grateful.
Perhaps they sensed my silent rebellion against their conquests. And so, they withdrew. And even better, they started speaking in English. To accomodate me! I should be thankful, but you know, sometimes when you feel out of place, the corners become your shelter and you even love the darkness and the anonymity they provide. So, I hated this new spotlight I was given. And spotlights mean performance! So I performed, for their sake and for mine.
Oh yes, here I've deliberately avoided 'the sun and the moon' to embrace my 'idly' self. But you know, the distance between the sun and the idly on my plate is too great for my liking. I wish there was some thread tied to an enormous needle which would stitch the two together. But then again, if I was lost in some deep, dark forest and suddenly the path divided into three, I would never choose the middle one!
oh god I really relate to being left out at white parties till someone suddenly wakes up and starts talking in polite english and then everyone including me is forced to perfom in polite english. but i don't think that iggly (not IDLY you fool) and sun and moon selves can never be reconciled. :)
ReplyDeleteI know how these gatherings are. You feel like a large clot or a harmless tumour sitting there until someone decides to prod you!
ReplyDeleteAnd I like 'Idly' better. It's food and it's South Indian; so it's only appropriate that I use the word - to remind myself that it was only you who said it first.
But yes, perhaps I should agree with you! After all, finally, the sun, the moon and the idly have been introduced to each other.