To a New Continent

The following was a long mass email that went out to friends earlier this year when I moved to a new continent. I have complained about the uncertainities of life, but like in Jhumpa Lahri's story, 'The Third and Final Continent' in An Interpreter of Maladies, sometimes all this is beyond my imagination. It feels like someone else's life. Becuase I had only dreamt of seeing every nook and corner of India and writing about it. But life, destiny and many other factors flew me to far off places.

And a few years after leaving home, home became an elusive term. It became a feeling and not a place, it was a memory that could be triggered by a sight, a smell, a smile.

Simply Sweden

Dear All:

Guys, this is 862 words, read it at your leisure. Write back and be patient if I cannot write right away. This goes out to my friends spread across the globe.

Wish a very late happy new year. And an update you on my whereabouts.

The last 6-8 months have been crazy for me. Made some snap decisions and somehow landed up in yet another continent.

Europe. Scandinavia. Sweden.

The permanent address will take a while. The official email. ---

I will be working at ---- University & will have to learn the language (tried playing wheel of fortune in Swedish and failed!! :(()

They have a great Global Media Studies program that impressed me. And since I can’t do anything else, I teach. Thankfully I enjoy it very much.

And I was all set to move to North America. Such is my journey on this planet -this time around!!

Predictability is -35!! Visibility is Zilch!!

You know, when we were in 3rd grade among other things in grammar class we learnt the ‘opposites’.

"Right-wrong, top-bottom, light-dark, north-south. At some point the process got intuitive important/unimportant literate/illiterate….

Well, Fiji----Sweden sounds right.

It is January end and they are just ending their fall semester. The spring semester starts the next week. The classes go on till June etc.

There is stark contrast in the amount of light we get as opposed to Fiji, which is pretty much constant in sunlight and daylight year around.

A week before I arrived it went down to -21 C.

As a friend from Indiana said, "Wisconsin is one of the few places where global warming is appreciated."

Yeah, and Sweden is another!!

I have circled around the globe almost twice this year.

And may I just say that movement is great if you have a base, which I don't. Everytime I’ve to make the painful decision of what to hang on to and what to let go of.

Yet, I have taught myself to savor this uncertainty. But often am in a whirlpool of doubts. And ask the supposed sane questions, "while my friends are working on publications, and, building a home, I have not been able to organize for the last decade because of movement. Still do not know whether I need a velvet covered rocking chair or a beach chair. What should I collect that will help in the long run...help me be efficient and productive….

Since my woolens lay alone for nearly four years, I started to give them away. Now my beautiful collection of sarongs and shell jewelry will seem useless.

I give up.

And yet I am prepared to experience the new place. The people are lovely and warm!! The topography is so much like Pennsylvania!!

Only I realize when I cant read the ingredients on a jam bottle that it would be good to learn the language.

And I must state that I will not trade the friends I have made in Fiji for anything. And there is no other way than to have this uncertainty to meet a great bunch of people in such a short time.

So am grateful for this magic, which leaves a cloud of confusion. But when it parts, I am surrounded by some familiar faces, who do not mind sticking by my side.

I will write as often as I can, and you do the same. The next few weeks will be hectic for me. While I have written a record of nearly 450 letters a year, even in candle light (my previous life in Africa), I find it hard to keep up with all the emails now. So have started a blog. www.insearchofahome2009.blogspot.com I called myself, “the accidentally seasoned Hobo but will change it to my name so that people can find it easily. 

I, like anyone interested in writing am hungry for readers, so follow the blog, read it, make comments, silly ones are welcome…..and keep in touch.

I carry all of you in my heart.

A very happy spring to you in the northern hemisphere, those in the southern hemisphere, well enjoy the rest of the summer.

And ….for the weather forecast from here...

all the leaves are brown

and the sky is grey

I've been for a walk

on a winter's day

I'd be safe and warm

if I was in L.A/ OR FIJI….

California Dreamin'

on such a winter's day

It was -17 C today….Ah, warmer than -21!!!

“What is -20 in Fahrenheit?” I asked my landlord who is a Ph.D. student in Chemical engineering. Despite years in Fiji I still measure in Fahrenheit and write Month before the date.

The young man said very gently but very firmly “You know we think Fahrenheit is silly”

“Really, why is that?” I expected a scientific answer from a scientist.

“Because Celsius was Swedish”

Simple people, simple philosophy, Simply Sweden!!

Amma's Gift

Here is a story by a fellow blogger. Amma's gift. I had chanced upon her blog where she mentions a movie I have been looking for, for ages--Papeeha.

She writes so well and clearly that I could not stop reading.

And after having read a few of the entries I sent her an email. We exchanged a few emails and I became a follower of her blog. Meaning an update of her blog shoes on my dashboard in my blog. So, when I opened to read her latest story, which was also published in the Deccan Herald, I had to smile a knowing smile as it had my name in it.

I sent her another email asking her if our email exchange had anything to do with it. Well, she said that she wrote the story shortly after our email exchange. And the name just 'popped up' or stuck in her head.

I do like story and not just because it has my name in it. But because the girl who shares my name is a caring, sensitive girl who loves through her actions. Also, the word Aajii reminded me of Fiji. I had never heard that word until I went to the Pacific. Aajii was the Fiji Hindi word used by Indo-Fijians. The word that means grandmother, must be from other parts of India, because we, in the North were only used to Daadi (paternal grandmother) and Naani (maternal grandmother).

The story also reminds me of a friend who was writing a film script sometime ago and asked me if she could use my name in the movie. Sure, I said.

Then she sent me the description of the character who would bear my name. *She is a wild girl, who sells hands free cell phones, loves heavy metal and has a thing for bad men.*

Surely, there were some dissimilarities between the character and I. I hope my friends agree!!

Please read Amma's Gift!!

One Good Man

The following story which was published in Fiji Times February 02, 2010 is a tribute to one of my most brilliant students from Fiji. Other than being a journalist, an editor of an online newspaper in Fiji, Kavai was also a loving father of four children, a good friend to many, an excellent mentor to cadet journalists and an inspiration to many.

It is true, even God is in the need of Good people.

Kavai Damu

It was six months after my arrival in Fiji when my things from the US were -finally delivered to me. I owned many books and wanted to take them to my office at the USP.

Tired of sifting through scores of publications I threw the last lot in my suitcase. It was so heavy. I struggled aboard a bus to USP and sat down to realize my mistake. With all these weighty books, I should have taken a cab.

As I got off the bus I wobbled under the weight of the books. A large hand came from behind and grabbed my bag. I turned and was greeted with a friendly smile by a handsome Fijian ”Good morning Dr. C”.

He noticed the confused look on my face, “I am a second year student, Kavai… Kavai Damu” he said with humility.

That was the first time I talked with Kavai. He carried my suitcase to my office, bowed and took his leave.

In the following two years I would hear many stories about Kavai. All of which were positive. The stories ranged from his assistance to cadet journalists, his loyalty as a friend, and his dedication to the field of journalism.

Many young women would wink and add, “and on top of all that he is handsome” and would lament that he was married.

Kavai registered for two classes with me. Neither of which he was able to complete due to his family and professional commitments. But despite that, he was one of my brightest and most creative students. His dedication to class readings and his insightful questions left no doubt in my mind that he was one of those rare journalists in Fiji who valued both theory and practice.

During the time I knew Kavai, we shared ideas over a range of topics, from culture to cuisine, to politics. He volunteered to help me in a project on studying journalism culture in various countries. He was bound to the project only through his love for journalism.

I recall the joy on his face as he graciously accepted books on journalism that I gave away in my last weeks in Fiji. He would utter “Bula” and clap his hands three times for every book he accepted and say, “Dr. C, I am not volunteering you paid me multifold by these books.”

He was one of the few students from the Journalism program who never came to my house for a home cooked meal. Most of my students had actually been to my house on campus.

While many of my students who I taught for many classes and became friends with were too busy with their new jobs to attend my farewell, Kavai, despite his high-stress job as the editor of FijiLive showed up. When I saw him at the party, I simply uttered….”Turanga Vinaka!!”

He chuckled like a boy, and said in his usual humility, “I could not… not come Dr. C.”. Despite holding a prestigious position, Kavai never once addressed me by my first name.

And we say in India, ‘this world runs on a few good men/women!’

Kavai lives in our hearts. Whenever I think of him, I cannot but recite an Urdu couplet...---”badi aas se sun raha tha zamana, tumhi chal diya dastaan kehte kehte….”

‘The world was hanging on to every word in your story, only you left us in the middle of your telling…..”