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(This is a piece that I wrote for a friend – to cater for an Indian publication in Brisbane – the theme of which was experiences of Indians in Brisbane. For the sake of convenience, I am posting it here – Please bear with me for any repetitive thoughts that you encounter! – Shruti)
It was about six months back. Clad in my brand new jeans and walking shoes, that I soon came to identify as the unwritten dress code for all uni students, I stood amid a swirling crowd on Queen Street Mall. The latest export by Mother India to land on Brisbane shores, I was hoping to garner an education and some cross-cultural exposure. Bewildered, jet lagged and a tad bit home sick, I clung onto the arm of my cousin K for dear life – panicky that should I let go, I risked getting swept away by the alien mass of people.
We were in the city to open a bank account for me. Entering the bank, we took a ticket and proceeded to wait my turn at the counter. The teller greeted me with a warm smile and chatted easily with K.
“Hey, how are you going?” she asked.
“Not too bad, just enjoying the lovely weather,” he responded. “This is my cousin Shroottee, she has just come from Indiaaah.” In spite of being of Indian origin, K rolls the syllables of my name in a typically Aussie fashion.
We completed the transaction, talking about her family and their travels to the Asian subcontinent, the conversation peppered with interjections and contributions from K. He had evidently neglected to inform me about his friend working at the bank. I would ask him about her later.
“So what is your friend’s name?” I asked as we walked out. “You forgot to introduce us”.
“Who?” he queried, puzzled.
“You know, the lady at the bank. The one you were chatting with”.
K threw his head back and gave a shout of laughter. Affronted, I waited to find out what was so funny.
“I did not know her silly! We were just going about our work. That’s the Aussie way. You will soon understand.”
“But…. She told you all about her brother’s food poisoning in Thailand”
“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!” chuckled K, unable to get one logical word out. I gave up grumpily. That evening, the anecdote was shared with my aunt and uncle and soon everyone had a go at me. More than once, I was patiently introduced to the ‘easy going, friendly Australian life style’.
But it was hard for me to accept. When you spend a lifetime growing up as a girl in Bombay city, you soon get programmed to ‘never talk to strangers’. The world was full of murderers and thieves, plotting to harm the unsuspecting citizen. I routinely traversed the same route daily for many years and yet never acknowledged my travelling companions. Coming from such a background, I could not help but clam up every time the driver smiled at me as I got on the bus, or people greeted me as I walked my aunt’s pet canine.
Working in an Australian office environment brought its own set of adventures. My boss P steadfastly refused to behave like a typical autocratic Indian superior. Instead he would keep volunteering snippets about his home, his pets and the weather. (The more I interacted with people, the more convinced I became, that the weather was a national obsession in Australia.)
One fine morning, I walked into the office and found some unusual electronic music playing.
“What are you playing so early in the morning?” I queried as I covered my ears protectively.
“Good Morning Shroooottteee”, sang P. “I thought you looked very homesick, so I am playing some Indian music to remind you of home. Then you will ease up and talk some more”.
Indian music? Puzzled, I studied the CD case that P had handed me. It was only much later that I had the heart to tell him that Goa Trance was in fact not something that Indians routinely listened to.
That was the proverbial final straw that broke the camel’s back. Like floodgates opening, I allowed the conversation to flow. I discussed the daily forecast at the bus stop, argued international politics in Coles and Woolly’s, surmised the cricketing situation when I went to buy coffee and was even ticked off for talking too much in classes! Smiles started gracing my features naturally as I passed strangers on the road, and I stopped imagining that the passer by was a kidnapper in disguise. The paranoia had evaporated.
Recently, I was helping an Indian girl M, a common friend. M was new to Australia and needed to be conducted around as she familiarized herself. On one of our trips out, we caught a ferry. As we settled in, I watched her bag the window seat and peer out – beady eyed and eager. Smiling at her enthusiasm, I let her take it all in. My next-door companion – a lady with her shopping bags – returned my smile. We got talking, and soon she was busy giving me tips on fruit shopping in Brisbane. As we disembarked from the ferry and said our goodbyes, M asked me how I knew the lady. I laughed and tried to enlighten her about the conversational Aussie lifestyle.
Life had indeed come full circle!
A white tree in a shopping mall in the City Centre
Its Christmas season in Brisbane (Surprise…Surprise!! – The objective reader is not wrong if he concludes that the author of this blog is a tad bit looney – stating obvious facts!!) Humour me a little my friend – I am a fascinated Hindu watching a primarily Christian nation celebrate Christmas for the first time. Coming from a background where December end was looked forward to merely because it was just another holiday, it is a pleasant change to see it take on some significance! So, lets start afresh….Its Christmas season in Brisbane – I wish that I could say that it is a white Christmas, but being in the Southern Hemisphere does have its own perils where climate is concerned! Oh dear….I do tend to wander off an awful lot, don’t I? Anyways, its a summer Christmas here in Brisbane – and a very interesting one at that!
Apart from the mega festivities and huge decorative Christmas trees that one sees in every shopping mall and office complex worth its posh glass exterior – products of commercialization of traditional celebrations – I try to look for other visible signs of the season. It is tough to look beyond the obvious huge sales and charity balls, but I am a resilient soul!
I see women in the central business district, lugging bunches of greeting card envelopes to the mail box, and dropping them into the slot with a grateful sigh – their hands and lips sore from sticking many a stamp down firmly! Outside the shopping malls, men sit in coffee houses and rue their bank balances while their partners tick off gifts on their shopping lists. On the train home, I see fascinated adults, pull out little toy dolls from their recent purchases and examine their accessories with what can only be termed as rueful delight!
Streets are lit up and neighbours compete with each other to be the best decorated in the suburb. Little fairy lights, glowing candy bars and gleaming santas of all sizes beckon you! Families pile up in cars and go inspecting the lighting and decorations of other houses – dropping a handful of coins in little charity jars along the way.
I see lots of families in the Botanical gardens – each one spanning a minimum of three generations – picnicking, playing ball, having lazy wine brunches and celebrating the annual event of their togetherness! Church services at the next – door cathedral suddenly seem to be attracting snaking lines of cars – maybe the season induces a heightened sense of piety in people! The local supermarket is giving away free recipe cards on making roast turkey in minutes, ideal quantities of ham per person and how to make the perfect cranberry sauce. Not to mention, that these cards are placed enticingly near the ingredients that they bear!
Unlike India, while Christmas is an occasion for the family, it does not necessarily have to take place at home. There is a sense of expected excitement in the air, as people make plans to getaway with family members for a much needed two week breather! In the office, we have our own little celebration – I have my first experience at dressing a tree – one of P’s clients tells me the story of the Nutcracker doll, as I hang the adornment on the little fern. We write up our own set of cards and make little boxes of candies for our clients. A week in advance we even have a grand dinner party at – hold you breath – an Indian restaurant!
Ready for Christmas dinner with the Office guys!
While Christmas in Brisbane does not have the same splendid babble of an Indian festival – the anticipation in the air itself encourages you to celebrate and make merry! As I unwrap unexpected gifts of scented candles and relishes, I yield to spirit of Noel and just have a good time!
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