A guy with a small jewish hat on his head, found the three of us at around the corner and decided to join us for coffee, unmindful of what we thought about it. Spotting a scarved moslem, a brown skinned Indian and an.. uhmmm lets say Europen together was his luck. I know people like this. In exactly two seconds, he is going to start quoting phrases from the bible, thinking we are women from a tribal land and have a shaky belief system and desparately need his help to deepen our faith. "So is the elephant God a symbol of strength?" would be his next question. I cannot take it, calling my dear thonthi pillayar "elephant god". I am not religious, but I can see myself becoming over protective of anything that is Indian and see myself feeling threatened by these "converters". I immediately surface all emotion that comes to missing home and a train of thoughts follow.
I dont really care about people who try to convert or people who think I am a barbarian because I have one God for every day of the year. I am frustrated that I for myself have just realised that India is the most exotic country ever. How can I even expect these people to understand my culture? We are the only ones who could have a different God, different food, different clothes, different languages or dialect every 500 miles and still preserve it, maybe with all the maamis wearing onbothu gajam, or with kolam, mavadu making, mukani padayal for new year, manjal kunkuvam, valayal, kolusu, kolattam, paatu class, pallankuzhi, thayakattai, etc.
After days of interospection I conclude that U.S lacks colour. Thats it. Thats what I miss the most. Its not the people who call us "those barbarians praying to the elephant God", or the noiseless traffic on the roads, or the repeated bland "veggie meal" at MacDo that I hate. It is the colourlessness. Mayil kazhuthu coulour, kili pachai, MS blue, Kathiri poo colour, vengaya colour, arakku, karu neelam and even govinda manjal that I miss. Its the Early morning beats of nadhaswaram and mirundangam followed by a theru, which has a few million colours that I miss. Kabaleeshwarar kovil gopuram, scaling up with every definable colour covering every spot, that I miss. The fresh green water sprinkled banana leaf sharing a stark contrast with the bright orange kasi halwa to the white pachadi and reddish manga thokku that I miss. This is what makes me miss India even though I have 3/4ths of my immediate family sitting right here. This is what makes me nostalgic when I listen to "Yeh jo desh hai", with full knowledge that I did not, or may not do anything for my country and that may not be the top reason for me to head back home.
