I walk down a street in the Bay Area and see brown faces looking back at me. I wonder how we would talk to each other plopped back into the sea of Bangalore.
It’s funny because both of us know this, and yet we go down the
“How are you?”
“I’m good, how are you?”
“I’m good!”
When what we would say is
Aye man, you look awful, didn’t sleep last night or what?
Why do we do that, in India? From where comes the inherent sense of trust and truth, that what I am simply saying is an honest look at each other in this moment? That’s where we start.
Is it living in a place that not polished, as though it is constantly in the works?
In India, there is imperfection everywhere, and somewhere my imperfections find a home in those imperfections and can come out and simply be.
In the States, places and times are so well-defined that that imperfection in me has no place to simply be in a public space, that everything done in a space are only those things done in a space. And so the imperfections in me respond by squeezing and packing themselves into a tight ball within me, the strain visible in that plastered smile.
Is it living in a place where you don’t have to go somewhere to do something?
In India, anything can happen anywhere. All of my friends’ homes were my second homes. My far-off cousins plop unannounced at my grandma’s house for days. The street sides are bustling with islands of carts. A neighbor built a mini-cave for bricks out for a mother pup and her babies. Something emerges from the chaos.
In the States, a place has a function, and there are really only limited places with limited functions that you can go to and so things that you can do. And things don’t simply happen. You have to make an effort to physically go out of your way due to the sheer distance. That friction creates these invisible barriers, compounding.
Is it living in a place so full of people?
In India, you’re surrounded by people, so maybe subconsciously you begin to pick up subtle body language and you know that any chinks will be prodded so you may as well be open and loose and wear things as they are. My teachers were my second family. They knew when something was wrong and they would say something about it. Around the whole class. We were tight.
In the States, you are isolated and around people so little that you wonder if you really understand body language anymore, and if you do say something, maybe you are crossing an unstated line that could suddenly be taken the wrong way. Say it softly, smartly.
Is it living in a place where things can be easily fixed and changed?
In India, I have had my watch fixed by a watchmaker. My laptop revived. Admitting a weakness, a brokenness, is doable because something can be done about it. Happens.
In the States, things are fixed in stone. When something stops working, it is thrown out.
Is it living in a place with those who are born and brought up there?
In India, when I look at others, I see myself. This is home. I can be myself.
In the States, nearly every person is an immigrant. This is a new home. Stand up for yourself. As though it has taken so much to achieve some level of stability here that changing the environs is something else.
Is it living in a place where the heart prevails over rules?
In India, when there is a car accident, everyone stops. People come out of their cars and race to the accident to help anyone who is in trouble. It’s not logical, it’s flooded by people, but there is heart.
In the States, a car is in an accident, and everyone passes by. Deep down I worry in my times of need, with a my hand reaching out for help, will be slapped with rules by someone who has to shut down the human urge in them for fear that the big rule monster will appear from the mist and punish the both of us.
ये माहौल बनता कैसे है? How does this mahaul come to be?
माहौल की बिना इंसान क्या है? Without a mahaul, what is a human?
माहौल और जान साथ-साथ बनती है | Mahaul and life go hand-in-hand
जब साँस बाहर आती है | When breath comes out
जब जो अन्दर है वो बाहर आ जाती है | When what’s inside comes out
वो ही माहौल है | That’s mahaul
वो ही ईमानदारी है | That’s honesty
It sounds cheesy in English, read it in Urdu, and wah! I couldn’t find a good translation for mahaul.
Maybe it’ll make sense in Bangalorean. Saying vibe is there, bro from the heart, is what makes the vibe is there, looping on itself and making more and more vibe. Yeah?