An Aussie guy in Chennai

The impressions formed by life in India’s vibrant South are making a definite and positive impact on this author’s psyche

BY TIM BLIGHT

To those who know me, it’s probably not very surprising that I moved to India. From those who don’t know me, I have elicited various responses, from shock and surprise to admiration, excitement and even jealousy. Last December I penned an article for Indian Link in which I described myself as not an Indophile (someone who loves India) but as part of India’s story – a country which I not only love, but in which I feel at home. So when the opportunity arose to live in India for about a year, I had my bags packed quicker than you could say pani puri! The opportunity was to move to Chennai, in a part of India with which I wasn’t familiar, and within a month I had packed up my life and was on a plane bharat-bound.

I’m still trying to pick up a few words of the Tamil language (beyond Vanakkam, or ‘hello’) to even make small talk. Many locals, however, prefer to speak in English if they can, which makes it difficult to practice any words I have learnt. Anyone who has learnt a foreign language (including many Indians for whom English isn’t their first language) would testify that the best – or maybe only – way to learn effectively is to put it in to practice. Learning without practice leaves one with a whole heap of vocabulary sitting idle in the brain and a confused, helpless expression on one’s face – a situation I have been in several times!

I’d never had to manually turn on a gas cylinder to cook either, and I’m still getting used to where to source things – Big Bazaar doesn’t stock electricity adapters like Woolworths does, although curiously, they do sell televisions and clothes!

Of course, Chennai is only really ‘bharat’ in name – any Hindi which I had learnt proved next to useless in this Tamil speaking city, and I’ve heard many Chennaikers talking about northern India as if it were a foreign nation. “Oh I went to Delhi once” reminisces a taxi driver, the same way an elderly Australian might wax romantically about Paris. This, of course, is understandable given the cultural divide between the north and the south. Tamil Nadu feels like a different country to the north, and it’s one that I took a while to adapt to.

Another thing I have had to get used to is the lack of hassle when compared with the north – perhaps this is due to Chennai being a less touristy city than, for example, Agra or New Delhi. Occasionally a rickshaw-wallah will call out to me, asking if I want a ride, but it’s nothing like walking down Delhi’s Rajpath where several three-wheelers stalked me for hundreds of metres, shouting out destinations and ‘special price for you sir’! I’m sure plenty of Indians will cringe when they read this, but please don’t – every country comes with its annoyances and India’s are relatively benign! A few days before I left Australia I was interviewed on Indian Link Radio about my plans for India. I managed to stumble through the early morning interview (I loathe waking up as much as I love

India), relating my impressions of India to my colleague Shraddha. I mentioned how, although India is secular, faith is interwoven with the fabric of everyday life in this country. Again, arriving in Chennai, I have been struck by how open religious expression is; Hindu men go to white collar jobs with tikka smeared on their foreheads; Muslim women walk through the street wearing niqab without turning heads; modern Christian-owned office blocks are adorned with huge crucifixes because… well why not? In early August I received an SMS on my Indian mobile phone wishing me a happy Ramzan, and I’m sure I’ll be getting more messages as Diwali approaches. The Indian approach to religion is a topic which deserves a column all to itself (in another column), but it’s also too important not to mention in my first column from the subcontinent. There are of course other quirks of life in India which I am still coming to terms with. I had never had to turn on a water heater to take a shower in Australia, but then in Chennai’s heat, I’ve never had to turn on my water heater here either! I’d never had to manually turn on a gas cylinder to cook either, and I’m still getting used to where to source things – Big Bazaar doesn’t stock electricity adapters like Woolworths does, although curiously they do sell televisions and clothes! Shopping is another treat. Call it good customer service or hard sell (I’m still not sure which), I find it incredibly disconcerting to be stared at by an silently overattentive salesman while I look at a pressure cooker! Good intentions, I’m sure, but awkward all the same! Also, I’m learning about all various new products which simply don’t exist in Australia; for example, a ‘bed cover’. Thicker than a sheet but not quite a quilt, a bed cover keeps your bed dust-free and looking tidy through the day. Laxman

Learning without practice leaves one with a whole heap of vocabulary sitting idle in the brain and a confused, helpless expression on one’s face – a situation

I have been in several times!

Rekha, a mysterious chalk line that you draw across your porch which somehow keeps the bugs at bay. Ice cream is bought in brick form, packed in a cardboard box – I remember my mum telling me about this existing in Australia when she was little. Drumsticks, a stringy vegetable which is said to miraculously provide one day’s nutrients in a single serve. And of course the gag reflex-inducing Hajmola, a mouth ‘freshener’ which seems to be India’s equivalent of Vegemite in that only the locals can stomach it!

So far, I have been in India for one month and I already love it. Of course there have been challenges, but on the whole my experience has been a positive one. The strange thing about India is that while many people find it frustrating and infuriating, I have very rarely felt this. Perhaps it is because of my temperamentmy friends have commented before that I am the most patient person they know. The type of life I’m living in India definitely has something to do with it – I’m not enduring the everyday struggle to exist that many Indians do. But I’m still experiencing India as much as I can possibly try to. And that’s enough for this Aussie guy in Chennai!