12-Nov-2012
Kotturpuram, Chennai
I sit in the dark and slightly dusty corridors of Vidyasagar School in Chennai. The corridor is dark because all the seven of us like the way it is dimly lit by a thin stream of the while tubelight coming from the auditorium, just enough to make out the facial expressions. Everyone is talking and laughing. the conversations are slow, tired after an hour of energetic rehearsals.
Tired colleagues, otherwise sensitive to such things, have reverted to Tamil for their conversations.
I sit not understanding most of it. Looking away from light. Smiling when everyone laughs and one of them helpfully translates the punch line, which does not help since most jokes are contextual, seeped in the popular culture, songs, movies, and TV series of the Tamil Speaking world.
I sit and I smile a tired smile. We are all in this together. Each one very happy to be here, in the company of the other, joined by a common purpose. Seeds of friendships are sown in such well tilled and sweat drenched soil.
I sit. I have seen all of this before, many times. This is a Tamil reprise of a popular number of my past life. The original was performed by even stranger foreigners.
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22-Nov-2012
Chandanagar, Hyderabad
I am sitting in the well lit and dusty office of Saptavandana in Chandanagar. I am invisible. When I am paid attention to it is a lot of it, I think my hair style and dressing sense makes the manager and his staff like me. But most of the time I am invisible, people speak to each other in Telugu. I am here to supervise the process. I am allowed to do that, but for the most part, I am invisible.
I am resigned to the fact. I behave invisible. I move slowly. If I feel like moving slow. I move fast and smile if I feel like doing so. I do what I want.
I may have begun to understand how a child feels in the alien world of adults.
Kotturpuram, Chennai
I sit in the dark and slightly dusty corridors of Vidyasagar School in Chennai. The corridor is dark because all the seven of us like the way it is dimly lit by a thin stream of the while tubelight coming from the auditorium, just enough to make out the facial expressions. Everyone is talking and laughing. the conversations are slow, tired after an hour of energetic rehearsals.
Tired colleagues, otherwise sensitive to such things, have reverted to Tamil for their conversations.
I sit not understanding most of it. Looking away from light. Smiling when everyone laughs and one of them helpfully translates the punch line, which does not help since most jokes are contextual, seeped in the popular culture, songs, movies, and TV series of the Tamil Speaking world.
I sit and I smile a tired smile. We are all in this together. Each one very happy to be here, in the company of the other, joined by a common purpose. Seeds of friendships are sown in such well tilled and sweat drenched soil.
I sit. I have seen all of this before, many times. This is a Tamil reprise of a popular number of my past life. The original was performed by even stranger foreigners.
-----
22-Nov-2012
Chandanagar, Hyderabad
I am sitting in the well lit and dusty office of Saptavandana in Chandanagar. I am invisible. When I am paid attention to it is a lot of it, I think my hair style and dressing sense makes the manager and his staff like me. But most of the time I am invisible, people speak to each other in Telugu. I am here to supervise the process. I am allowed to do that, but for the most part, I am invisible.
I am resigned to the fact. I behave invisible. I move slowly. If I feel like moving slow. I move fast and smile if I feel like doing so. I do what I want.
I may have begun to understand how a child feels in the alien world of adults.
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