Bus conductor, the link

 When I was in Uni, we were referred to as the Southerners. There was even an acronym for it. MTK – people from Madurai, Thirunelveli and Kanyakumari districts of Tamil Nadu. Although M-ians, T-ians and K-ians had distinctively very different and very strong accents, MTK-ians had something in common – naivety, simplicity, and respect for others. We referred everyone in singular-forms, any stranger would be a brother, sister, aunt, uncle, grandma, and grandpa. It was the bus conductor that will give the first glimpse of these characteristics, as that was the vehicle that transported one back to the world we left and missed. Literally and metaphorically. Whenever I went back home on holidays, the first question on the bus to Kombai would be whose granddaughter are you – only this time it would be about the actual relatives, not the strangers. If it was not by the bus conductor, it would be a passenger on the bus.

It took some time to learn that the city Coimbatore and the district of Coimbatore had the same things in different wrapping. The bus conductor would address everyone in plural form, the respect was overwhelmingly in your face and even intimidating and informing a southerner how inferiorly we referred to people in singular forms. All strangers were referred in some form of a relative too, but slightly differently. They too carried simplicity and naivety once we got to know them. It was the bus conductor that carried the characteristics that first let us into their world.

Chennai bus conductors used very disrespectful language but the trust in the passengers and how they paid by passing the money through the crowded buses was quite a spectacle to watch.

When I first came to the UK, I was looking for the conductor of the bus. The teleporter into the world of this world. It took me some time to understand it was the driver himself. I watched the public thanking him and it gave me relief. When I went back home on holiday, it was difficult to speak to the Chennai bus conductors/drivers - it was the crowd or no-time. Madurai ones gave plenty of time, but when looked at them, I could only muster up a smile which was acknowledged to my contentment.

Who is that for you that keeps the link? #CrossingCultures

Here is a blog-post I wrote some time ago that captures some of the above and there is a bus conductor in 👇 story

https://premalathakombai.blogspot.com/2007/02/coming-home.html

Maargali

karpanai endraalum karsilai endraalum kanthane unnai maraven...

TMS's voice softly flowing through the cold breeze oozes in to my house through the open in the middle of the house. I look up and see the sky. It is dark with twinkling stars. Cold. Dark.  I pour another bonk of cold water on my head. Got to be quick, as it is chilling cold and the water being cold doesn't help. I shiver and make it quick. I cannot dry my hair as the sun is not out yet. It won't  be out until I come back home. I would have finished my rounds before the sunrise. I try my best to dry the hair with my towel. I quickly change into clean clothes and say bye before running off. "Don't run, it is dark, you might fall off tripping on stones or anything on the road you can't see". Father's voice fades away in the background as I shoot off to the temple. I don't want to be late.
I wait in the queue. I like the warmth the lights produce, although they are not meant to be a source of heating. I do not have one myself. I just watch others'. I hear someone calling me from the lines of lights. The lights are glaring that I couldn't see who it is. I move towards the direction where the call came from. Ahh, it is Kutti. I go and sit with her. She starts reading something and playing along the poojai. like others do. I do too. The lights are all dancing and playing. I love watching them. In rows. Kuthuvilakku decorated with flowers, kumkum and sandal. the smell of sandal, kumkum and oil mixed in the air mixes with the fragrance from the flowers from the girls' hairs. Adding to that is the smell of the brisk fresh morning cold air, which brushes off my face sharp and fresh and smooth. I smell pongal too. Someone is bringing the hot pongal for prasadam. I can't wait to collect my share.


.

We have run out of oil. I tell Kutti that I can go and get some. I go near the main area where there is usually someone supplying oil to everyone, in case it runs out, like for us. I go and ask for some oil. I have taken Kutti's thookuchatti with me to get more oil. The man by the oil andaa pours some oil into my thooku. I go back and fill our kuthuvilakku with more oil and the lights get their soul back. They are back strong and dancing now. The poojai feels long and dragging. I wait for it all to be over. I go and stand in the que to collect some pongal. Kutti packs the poojai stuff and keeps them with the kuthuvilakku. We got some pongal for the vilakkuththattu on the plate. Still, I would like to collect my share and so I am standing in the que. I also collect another share for Kutti.

We walk back together. It is nearly dawn. We see the cows going to the dairy farm and the bulls and the bullock carts going to the fields. People cleaning their vasals and some spraying water too. We chat about the poojai today and walk back together. We start eating the pongal too. Divine. Not just the pongal. 

Osi mai kadai – the shop where I got free ink for my pen

He doesn’t talk. He looks tall and healthy. Dark. Never smiled at me. We don’t talk. People in my street would talk. They would at least say hello. It is a different matter that they all know me and my family. They say hello to everyone. They are interested in knowing about everyone and everything. If you are a stranger or new to the area, you better have answer and time for all their questions. It is a bit strange for me to go to my regular shop,  still do not have ever spoken to the shop owner. I do not know whether he has never spoken to anyone or just to those kids who come to his shop to fill their ink pens. There is that ink bottle just outside the counter in front of the tight row of big mittai (candy) bottles. Kept in a very convenient place for us the regulars.  An ink filler by the side too. I go there and look up. He turns inside and starts looking at his books or something. I take my pen out, open it, and fill it with the blue ink from the bottle. There it is, a little cloth thoughtfully kept by the side of the bottle. I use the cloth to wipe the pen and my hands. I look up again. He is still examining something inside his shop. I have to go as I am getting late to school. I start walking. My head turned to look back. I saw his head looking out of his shop and looking at me walking. I smile. He pulled his head back in. I smile again and walk fast. I am late for the school assembly.  

I shall Try

I try. I try very hard. I am not a runner. I try hard. “Get set go”…. And the whistle… I do not whizz off. I do run, but far behind all the other contestants. I can see Radhika running in the front. Failure to run does not make me sad. I was quiet. I stood on the sides for other rounds and other sports. I watched them whizz past me. I asked the teacher if she wanted any help in conducting the events. May be I can mark a tick against the name of the contestant who has turned up. May be I can add the winning scores and give the totals to the other teacher who is summing up the results. May be I can arrange the lines and marks on the ground for the next sport. I was wondering. I was a little sad when I didn’t win in the singing competition. I do believe I sing well. May be that is my interest. May be I should properly learn to sing and become a singer. I was wondering. There was this thing glaringly obvious that I get good marks in all the exam papers. But how can you make it specific? Is it geography, is it science, or is it …oh yes, I like maths and I do well too. But, what about it? I do not know what can you be if you like maths or if you do well in maths. May be I can become a maths teacher one day. I am not sure I want to teach children. They misbehave a lot. I do too. I do not like to become a teacher. Becoming a teacher is nothing about having liking for maths. That is why I do not think scoring good marks in exams can make me anything. Singing can make me a singer. But I cannot learn singing. My folks won’t let me learn singing. And there is no one to teach me singing. Let us say I learn singing and I sing a few songs. What then? Mmmm, good that I thought about it before wasting my time on learning to sing!

I don’t know what would interest me. May be I can become an engineer and build bridges. I will build the best and the famous bridge in the world. I will have beautiful roses on the pavement. Yes, it is a good idea to have a pavement where people can walk while the buses go in the middle of the road. I will have beautiful roses in pots arranged in a row on the side walk. There should be a tap for people to drink water when they go thirsty. And there should be benches if anyone wants to have a sit down for a while.   The dream opens up. It brings the bridge closer and bigger. There are people on the pavement. Colourful roses in pots too. The tap in the middle of the walk looks wet. Some elderly men like thatha are having a sit down on the benches. It will be a wide bridge then. Then the weight bearing should be strong then? That will be my challenge. I will be the engineer behind a famous bridge which was built with strong weight bearing and colourful roses in pots. That will be my goal. I shall try. I like that. I shall try.

My walk back home had a spring in my step. Humming three full songs took me home. “Aachi, have you got some rice for me”? 

Death of a friend

Someone told me that Venkateshwari had passed away sometime back. I didn't know how to feel. I was not shocked with sadness, but yes, the news was a shock and I was sad. We were good friends. I wouldn't say we were the best friends, as, doesn't that term allow only two people in and expect them to be very loyal to each other in that relationship? We weren't like that. We were loyal to each other alright, but we were friends with others too. We were a group of girls who were good friends. one of them died and I didn't even know. I guess these things will start to happen as the life goes on. I reason with myself. I haven't seen her since the last day in school. I can't remember what we did in our last day. It was good that we did that photo shoot, as I remember that day very well. Mala couldn't come as their family didn't let her. I normally don't tell my family such things. Nagarthinam's family was fine with our photo shoot. We all gathered at her place and went for the photo shoot. I remember very well. Probably that was the last day I remember being with Venkateswari very well. She wore my thavani for the photo shoot as she didn't have a good one for the occasion.

I don't feel any sudden loss just because the news is death. I have lost her since I last seen her, or I suppose, I last remember being with her. It was a slow departure and was a very natural one for me. The news on the other hand was about unnatural and sudden departure. Physical death only brings a closure to the already lost one. In Lakshmi's case she is still around, but the loss has happened. It is not the life's natural course that has brought the loss, but the loss has happened. I was not shocked but was sad. I knew it was inevitable and would happen eventually. I knew. I was relieved that it brought my agony to an end. It brought me sadness too. I don't know what made me lose her slowly, but the departure was not sudden although it seemed sudden. It was good and bad. Good that the agony ended and bad that the pleasures ended too.

I am still grieving. Sometimes angry, sometimes relieved and sometimes sad as well. I am still grieving.

Dancing

I am all nervous. First time on stage. I love dancing. I love singing too. Mother says I sing like a fox howling. I love singing. I know many songs by heart. I sing when I walk from home to school and back from school to home. I love dancing. I close all the doors and windows and dance for the songs I love. I wish I can properly learn to sing and dance like in movies. I love dancing and singing. There are no such learning places in Kombai. I am going to dance on stage today. I am very nervous.

It is annual festival in school. Sports events are all finished. This time of the year is a real festival time in school. Radhika won several prizes in sports. She runs very fast. There were other competitions too. They were all finished well before the actual celebration days. Anandhi won first prize in singing. I sang a good song too. I guess one has to sing a popular song to win the competition. I won a prize too. I came first in the essay competition. I was surprised.  It was sports day yesterday. I didn't run. I don't run. I don't do well in sports. Not my thingy. But I like the festive mood the sports day creates. I like to assist teachers in conducting competitions. It gets me involved in the fun. It is so exciting. I love sports day. I just cannot participate though. I love watching the excitement. It is so exciting.

I am dancing this year. Solo dance. Teacher borrowed clothes from some boys. Identities are kept secret so that they don't bully me later. I am gonna wear a hat too. It is to hide my long hair. It is not that I am playing a boy in the dance. It is just dancing in a boy's clothes hides all aspects of being a girl, my teacher told. It can disguise who I am too. It will be good. No one would know that it was me who danced. Hope it saves me from my family. They don't like me singing at home. Dance? They will kill me, if they come to know.

Our ground is really big. Middle school joins us for the celebrations, although I don't know in which event they join us. The stage is set up in the Middle School area. There is no hard separating line between the Middle School and the High School. Still we, the High School people don't go to the Middle School grounds. We have got proper grounds for proper games. It is all trees in the Middle School area. Tamarind trees. But it is good for the viewers to sit under the trees, as the ground under the trees as it is much cooler there.

We are all set and ready to perform. We are all waiting in the back stage. I can see the crowd from behind the stage. Some villagers have come to watch the show too. Some parents come to see their children getting prizes. Thankfully mine haven't come. It is all hazy for me. I cannot see any familiar face in the crowd.

I am going next. It is the famous duo dancing now. Disadvantage of being involved in performing is that you cannot see the show from the front. I have seen all the dances, all steps when practising. I have also seen all the performers in their full make up at the rehearsals. But it would be nice to watch the final version in full make up from the front. I can see it from the side here. Looks like the dance is a hit. I am next. I am next. I rehearse some of the steps and their sequences in my head closing my eyes.

"ha ha ha.... en ennam inippatheno (why my thinkings are so sweet?) ha ha ha..."

The announcement says my name. I go next. It is all hazy. The song starts. "ha ha ha"... I start the first step.. the music follows. I change the step. "en ennam inippatheno" ..The song continues. I concentrate on the next step and the next change. I remember that I have to move around on the entire stage as it is a solo dance. I move around and change steps to suit the music and the words. Before I knew, the song has finished. I bow and thank the crowd. I hear cheering.

All done. It was like automated. I don't remember anything. I didn't see anything. It is all done now. Teacher appreciated. I heard people clapping. Back to the changing room. I changed quickly . Ready to go home. Bye teacher.

You looked like Shivaji Ganesan! Some voice behind me commented while walking back home. Gosh. So they recognised! My head looking down and legs started walking fast. I must get home before anyone notices me.

There. I am nearly home. I see mother and Nahamani akka standing on the steps at the front of our house. They look a bit, not so happy. Hope it is all my imagination.

"So, I heard that you danced today. What have you done? What have you done? Is this why I raised you all these years........." Mother greeted me.

Best Friend

Pachayamma is my mother’s best friend. From her childhood days. Best buddies they are. They gossip a lot and they claim that they are the best in bitching in town. They can bitch about you when you are sitting very much next to them, still you wouldn’t know a thing. They might even get you to nod or laugh for some of their remarks. Yeah. That bad they are. They can name nick names and form code words then and there. They understand each other perfectly well. Don’t know how. Chithi on the other hand, tags along them all the time, but understands nothing. Chithi doesn’t have any best friend of her own until she found her kind, the working kind. Now they have many things in common no one else can understand, but just them, you know, CL, PF and such things. Still chithi gets attracted to the gossiping experts when they start giggling with their famous start line, “ela, what are you doing”?

I guess murugeswari akka is my best friend as we have some common things to discuss about. Maths teacher, history teacher and stuff like that. We don’t gossip. We don’t know to gossip or we don’t know anything to gossip about. That is the truth, actually. No one tells me their secrets that I can tell my best friend and ask her to keep it a secret. No one gave me an opportunity to keep a secret a secret either. I guess lack of practise made me the worst secret keeper. No secret to gossip about means, no best friend. I have study friends, play friends, but no best friend.