Yesterday I had a great conversation with the mother and the aunt, reminiscing about our life back in Dubai. For those people who are new here (Hello! *waves*), I spent the first 19 years of my life out of India. Since that post, I have moved to Goa, gotten a full-time job at a newspaper and well, split up with the boyfriend I was CONVINCED I was going to marry.
Getting back to my conversation with my folks, I was recounting a particularly amusing incident that had happened to mom and me, as we were migrating back to India.
Our last few years in Dubai were financially difficult for us, and because of a whole bunch of reasons, we had to come back in an amnesty. So to get our butts back to the motherland, we had to have our expired visas cancelled by the authorities. The process for this was not complicated, but it was separate for men and women. So one fine morning, Mom and I went to the immigration department in Dubai to get our visas cancelled.
Without meaning to be class-ist or full of myself, we didn't fit the mould of the average defaulter. So basically when we were in line, we stood out like sore thumbs amongst the housemaids, gardeners, cleaners and so on. We waited quietly in line, and I was holding passports.
My passport was a modest 2 booklets, because I was only 19 at the time. Mom's, on the other hand, had 4 booklets. Don't even get me started on Dad's passport. I was holding both passports together, when one of the surtas (cops) saw my hand and exclaimed loudly.
She called us up to the table, and asked with incredulity: "YOU two want amnesty?? And for God's sake, HOW many of you all are there?"
A little confused, I replied: "I have only two passports."
She snorted: "These are just two passports? How long have you people lived here?"
Mom: "26 years."
Her jawed literally dropped open. She halted the queue (hard to believe she was from UAE, she was behaving just like an Indian government official), and called her colleagues together.
They jabbered in Arabic for a while, examined the passports carefully. All I understood were the exclamations of astonishment. By this time, Mom and I were fighting to stay serious. The whole situation was ridiculous.
One of the cops turned to me and then said: "But you were born in Sharjah! You are a UAE national. Why the hell are you going back?"
We laughed, answered their questions and finished the formalities. It lightened up a considerably stressful day. We were guests in someone else's country after all, nothing could change that.
Returning to India gave us peace. No visas, no hassles - as far as we were concerned. We settled down to our lives here. When my Dad moved to Goa, we followed, and after a long LONG time, the family was together again.
When I was in Pune, I heard a lot of nonsense about "Maharshtra for the Maharashtrians". None of my contemporary Marathis subscribed to this philosophy. I figured they were uncouth and ridiculous people.
I visited Bangalore, where someone categorically told us that they wanted no more people to move to the state. WTF? (Just as an aside, I have Kannadiga blood in me too.)
But the worst was reserved for Goa. Up to this point, all this happened to OTHER people - at least in India. I still considered myself an Indian - after all, what choice do I have with my parentage?
Somebody in Goa called me a migrant. I was stunned. A migrant? Till I realised that the Goans don't want us here. I considered settling down in Goa, but now I am completely against it. I don't want to stay anywhere where I am not wanted.
(PS: Title is one of my favourite songs by Linkin Park)
6 comments:
i feel the same way. sure, i love goa and all that. i also see myself living here for a good number of years to come. but forever? not a chance.. because in just one year i have felt the strong anti-immigrant vibes on so many occasions.. its ridiculous!
It's really sad though. I have come to love Goa so much after moving here. And honestly, when I returned to India, all I wanted to do is migrate again! Anyway, I guess Mumbai is the place for me. :-)
home is where the heart is. no matter where the heart is.
Truly. So for me, home is where my parents are - and it will always be like that. But that doesn't change the fact that I belong to absolutely no place.
Hey,
Interesting take on Goa, I have been there only on short visits and had mixed experiences. I think cities like NY,Mumbai are more welcoming towards people. I think people need to lose the "localite" tag, its like marrying your high-school sweetheart. Happy blogging!
Cheers
@TheBigA - I have found cities more welcoming, possibly because the transient population is huge. So many people from different walks of life call Mumbai home.
Thank you, though.
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