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apexart-journal · 6 years

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Radha Gomaty in NYC Day 16

Enroute Washington

Had a particularly rough morning as my India phone suddenly dithered into deep coma just as i was readying to leave to catch the 9 am Bus to Washington .

Quite distraught I sat bent over the phone compulsively pressing the three buttons that i could see in various permutations and combinations and with varying finger pressures till time on the clock approached danger mark and i had to run from the room .

I find my way through the subways carrying a heavy shoulder bag besides my usual awfully ethnic glittery (and now rather dirty)cloth tote with its stitches coming undone that somehow gells well with this crazy city .

Of course, then there is my friend’s handy little leather multi pocket cross sling that carries everything from my proof of identity , all my various complimentary entry cards and metro /subway cards .In fact she hung it on my shoulder with emphasis genuinely afraid that I might lose my papers otherwise and end up in prison or something !

A gift notepad from my god daughter that i had cherished on my table without finding fit reason for using it fits in perfectly and had scrawled in its first page with a waterproof marker all important numbers of immediate near & dear that proves really useful now that my phoned conked out!

I thanked the stroke of intuition that had me do that just a coulee of ours before i left home for Kochi Airport.

Yet another friend lent me her veteran leather jacket advising me that i should wear this as soon as i disembark from the flight at JFK so that I look like a true blue New Yorker and not like some babe in the woods.

In short I had made my trip on some old clothes donated to me (category:Something OLD;status-check!)

Some new clothes , shoes and socks (first purchase since I passed school say , some 35 odd years ago and a pair of brand new spectacles (category :something NEW-check!)

Mostly borrowed stuff right from money for my food to all of my woolens and even two pieces of luggage of the three I had.(category: something BORROWED-Check!)

And something blue?Well ,Besides a pair of rather horrendous blue jeans hurriedly brought and in memory of an older body size that i once inhabited .It was now so large that I have to find ingenious ways every moment to keeping it from slipping down to the ground.

But then there were some events too just as I leaving home that for a few moments dyed Time to the deepest ultramarine possible.But thankfully only for a few moments ,as off late like a practiced boxer I duck on raw instinct rather than from rather deadly blows. designed to kill my sustaining spirit .

(category:Something BLUE-Check!)

BTW for readers rom my part of the Globe this business of having something OLD /NEW /BORROWED /BLUE is what a Bride is supposed to ensure she has on her person at the ceremony to ensure some things as follows:

Something old represents continuity; something new offers optimism for the future; something borrowed symbolizes borrowed happiness; something blue stands for purity, love, and fidelity.

A 1940’s song from my childhood that was part of dad’s vinyl record collection .the one i heard was by Vera Lynn but i can’t find it anywhere now trawling the net.

So please listen to this version by the Velours.

Yup.

I’ve deliberately chosen the one with the excessively frothy pulp romance visuals to rub it in and have people of understated refined tastes to run for cover.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vc0G7y1gfEU

Well !Me , a bride ,huh?

That’s a good one !

I’m sure reading this will have many folks i know in sniggers to downright splits at the prospect of a hat trick (Me too actually …!!! :D :D) , a grossly anomalous event for a woman ,at least in the cultural context I happen to be in !

But jokes aside ,in a way that is true about all trips like this, you know.

It is like one’s self (spelt with small case )and one Self (spelt with upper case)that ,ejected by some hidden cosmic plan across a huge distance from familiar physical coordinates and the habits of time zones ,embark upon on a unique honeymoon together within one …

Like in this lovely Hindi movie back home called ‘QUEEN’ after the mild mannered typically middle class protagonist called Rani (meaning Queen in English &played with finesse by Kangna Raut) who is stood up at the altar ,so to speak ,by her recently ‘settled abroad’ NRI fiancé because suddenly she is not smart & trendy enough to be part of his new life style abroad.

Though utterly shattered she embarks upon a radical decision encouraged by her feisty paternal grandmother -To use her honeymoon ticket and go to Paris & Amsterdam on a honeymoon all by herself as planned like commemorating a wedding that never happened .

The results are unexpected and totally exhilarating for Rani after some initial shocks which completely jolts her out of the narrow confines of her comfort zones that were based on role based conformity and not centred on the realities of her feeling-self.

The film traces how Rani , the average middle class Indian girl,begins to find herself finally in new locales through new & diverse friendships and challenging experiences restoring her to an unassailable fresh new sense of wholeness.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Queen_(2014_film)

Distance has a way of conferring perspective as little else can as also the cosmopolitan multi cultural bustle that, throwing off-gear one’s sense of context ,challenges one to reexamine , feel ,assimilate and eventually generate anew every moment a new and enlivening context for being.

Just this evening on a watsapp call , my brother was telling me of a new book he was reading on the realities of a Dalit Life called ‘Ants amongst Elephants’ noted for its freshness by Sujata Gudia , based on the locales of her own life written only after she migrated to the US and became a subway conductor.

Even the cold , the wind , the need to layer over skin for a person from more hospitable or warmer climes where one may as well comfortably walk next to naked with just one multipurpose piece of cloth that works interchangeably as garment , mat or drape by night changes things in a way that is not easy to describe.But change it does ,from the fundamental level of the nebulous cusp of Body & Being.

The same reasons ,also dictated by a different culture of valuing Tme ,may necessitate similar changes in dressing -from wearing flowing clothes to closely fitted ones that facilitate free movement of limbs while keeping the cold out.

Simply put ,just the simple act of wearing pants , say even for a woman like me, changes things and facilitates entry from languid self containment to dynamism & extroverted action .

The giddying verticality of Metropolises also has a similar effect upon those who like me from not such a heavy metropolitanised( a new word I suspect but let it be!) living backdrop.

In short the stage is set for a strange wilderness to sudden burgeon forth almost overnight overrunning the complacence of Familiarity altogether . From within this wilderness strange new animals ,whose presence was only gleaned hitherto from an occasional track mark of sensation or from the sharp smell of droppings begin to show themselves better with a new found fearlessness.

Weird flowers blossom of strange hues and heady scents that disorient the head as in open eyed dreams .Voices unheard hitherto begin to make themselves audible .

I am convinced now that Traveling far makes one more amenable to accept the fact that perhaps the very nature of Life is a virtual reality .I stumbled on that secret long ago but frankly speaking ,its the darned diciest thing to get used to though with the years and the abrasions of experience ,I think I’ve made much better peace with it .

“…so why did i come so far,my love ? to catch a glimpse of an Amerindian lifetime that still courses through our blood ?The time when the horses brought in by the Spaniards escaped and came in first from Peru through Mexico through the Oklahoma plains to multiply and run beautifully wild and you were part of those who lassoed and made peace with them to become our steadfast friends ?”

Amerindians??

Did i actually doze off for a split second in the Metro Bus headed to Washington DC that everyone seemed to called by its euphemism ,’the Blue Bus’?

My fellow passenger , a man from Honduras who has worked in the US for 16years now and longs to return home is happy to let me have his window seat .

He gladly accepts a piece of Kappalandi Mittai or Peanut Candy from back home as agonizing over my phone left me no time to prep or eat anything for breakfast. i make do with gnawing at an apple afterwards thinking I shall eat in Washington.

Washington !

Can two cities be so totally different?

The Metro station has this glam front of cafes et al and suddenly with one turn the whole atmosphere changes into a grey drab one.i have trouble with topping my Metro Card and a family from Kerala reach there just in time as if to help me.The gate won’t open and I enter through an emergency door.

Everything is strange ,bleak,dark and interminably gray even the lifeless mechanical announcements .I feel it takes an eternity to find my way walking too to the Beacon hotel .

The young lady at the desk checks out ‘Margaret Ewing’ under whose name my room has been booked .While she is examining my passport for a second time with apologies for the inconvenience caused ,Trump is delivering voice mime thunderbolts on illegal immigrants on a silenced TV Set in the tastefully decorated lobby.

Standing there i find myself worrying about one of James’ students, I think one who is on our show at Apex, whose dad is on the receiving end of this with the aftershocks landing on the prospects of the entire family.

James ,whom I met at Apex is a wonderful teacher of Art at a Public or city funded school in the Bronx where the poorest people live ,many of them precariously.

i get my room keys finally and enter a business class room with two huge single beds ,a TV set , a coffee maker and something that I think is a microwave oven .

For the first time since i came ,I'm feeling a bit lost.

I miss my home@1Irving street, the cute white Mac on the table by the window that helps me type my thoughts, the narrow crowded streets outside full of really interesting looking people , the crazy subways abuzz with chaos &music...

Yeah, my phone from India on which I refused to change the time in India to keep in touch withy beloved ones there abruptly dying with all my contacts in it and remembering that it's my father's birthday and my younger son not realizing perhaps that I haven't called not because I don't care but I can't, adds to it.

My packed lunch of Rice and Mung sprouts suddenly turns tasteless in my mouth.

I hurriedly get up.

Schedule beckons …. (to be contd.)

#Radha Gomaty #Inbound from South Eroor

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