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West Is East and Left is Right
Ram S. Sriram |
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This is a reprint of the article
that appeared under Culture in Chandamama,
U.S. and Canada Edition |
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Most of the
invitees stay at the Comfort Inn in Euclid Avenue because it is located
within walking distance from the Cleveland State University auditoriums
where the performances are held. April is the beginning of the spring
season in North America and the weather is generally comfortable in
most cities. However, Cleveland, situated on the banks of the great
Erie Lake, is far cooler. For the Indians coming from India, cool might
be a euphemistic expression. To them, it is bitingly cold. Because most
of them dress in the traditional Indian dhothy and jibba or sarees,
they get very little protection against the cold and blowing wind from
the great lakes. However, this is not a story about cold but about warmth
- the warmth of human relations and meeting of cultures. It is about 5:30 in the evening. It is drizzling outside and the wind is blowing at 30 miles an hour. The temperature is hovering around 25 degrees; frigid and uncomfortable. There is no one around the Comfort Inn lobby other than the lady behind the reception window and I, sitting on one of the sofas in the reception area, stretching my legs before walking back to the auditorium to attend the evening concert. The elevator door opens and a young man, about 25 and of Indian origin gets out of the elevator. He walks directly to the reception window. The receptionist asks him, "How may I help you?" The young man replies with a strong Indian accent, "The heater in my room is not working. Only the A/C is working and it is making the room even colder." The receptionist responds, "There is only one knob to operate both the A/C and the heater. You should turn the knob to the left to switch on the heater and to the right to switch on the A/C. Did you turn it to the left?" She continues, explaining how the system works and what the young man should do to turn on the heater. The Indian young man is having a tough time understanding the Mid-Western slang of the receptionist. Because the young man has a quizzical expression on his face, the receptionist mistakenly assumes that the young man does not understand English. For his part, the young man decides that the lady behind the counter is rambling and is not bright enough to offer a solution to his complaint. The receptionist decides to add gestures to her spoken words. She stretches her right hand and says "You must turn the knob to the left; to the left." The young man seeing her stretched right hand and the expression, "turn left" decides this lady is really stupid. The receptionist is extending her right hand because, to the young man who is standing opposite to her, it would point in a left direction. The young man could not take this anymore. He tells the receptionist, "OK. I will try." He turns around and as he is getting into the elevator, mumbles in one of the Indian languages, "This woman has no common sense. She does not know the difference between left and right. Even the donkey in India is smarter than this woman." Another fifteen minutes passes away with nothing eventful happening around the reception area other than a new lady taking over charge behind the reception window. A middle-aged American gentleman and his wife walk in and occupy the two remaining sofas outside the reception area. After a few more minutes, the front door to the hotel opens and a very senior Indian musician clad in a dhothy and jibba and with his head covered by his angavastram like a scarf walks in. He is shivering and tired, having walked from the auditorium to the hotel in the cold and drizzle. There is no place to sit in the reception area since all three seats were taken. I immediately stand up and offer him my seat. He is very apologetic for taking my seat but is glad that he could sit down. But each time the front door opens, cold air rushes into the reception hall, making the musician shiver violently. Noticing this, the middle-aged American gentleman gets up, walks to the musician and says, "Sir, you should sit away from the front door. You will feel less cold. Let me sit on the sofa closer to the door and you take my seat. You will be more comfortable" The musician gets up with difficulty, moves to the other seat and like a typical Indian elder says to the American gentleman, "You will live long. Andavan will bless you for your good gesture." The American gentleman could not comprehend the full meaning of what the musician was saying but understood that the musician was blessing him. He turns to the musician and says, "Thank you sir." Five minutes later, the American gentleman and his wife leave the hotel lobby. Now, only the senior musician and I are sitting in the reception area. The receptionist turns to the musician and asks him, "Sir, do you want some orange juice? I can get you some." The musician replies, "No. I do not drink cold items. My father always used to say, drinking cold items is not good for musicians. Your throat will get affected." The receptionist catches the word "musician" and exclaims, "Sir, are you a musician?" The musician replies," Yes. I have been a musician for 65 years and I have received several awards and I have even performed before Presidents.' The receptionist grasps the word Presidents. "Wow! You performed before Presidents. Which Presidents did you meet? Roosevelt, Truman, Carter?" The musician replies, "No. Not the American Presidents. Sarvapalli Radhakrishnan, Abdul Kalam." The receptionist has no clue what he is saying. After attending to a phone call, the receptionist again turns to the musician and says, "My 14 year old daughter is taking singing lessons. She even participates in the school opera. I hope one day she will be a reputed musician like you." The musician is happy that she is talking about music. The musician responds to the word opera. "Thyagaraja Swamy wrote two great operas - Nowka Charitham and Prahlada Bhakthi Vijayam." He is addressing no one in particular. The musician is definitely energized by the conversation about music. The cold and frigid air no longer bothers him. He says," Ask your daughter to do sadhagam everyday. If she wants to be a good musician, she should do sadhagam everyday. Practice is very important. And, ask her to go to cutcheries regularly. Listening is also very important. I bless your daughter. One day, she will be a great musician and she will receive the Sangeetha Kalanidhi" The receptionist could not understand what the musician was saying. Sadhagam, cutchery, Nowka Charitham, Prahlada Bhakthi Vijayam, Sangeetha Kalanidhi, words that make no sense. What is he saying? But, she does get the general idea from his gestures and expressions. "I will tell my daughter that a great musician from India said that she should practice everyday. Thank you sir for your advice." Then she asks him, "Sir, did you learn music in the US?" The musician replies, "No. No. I was born in Perayoor, a small village in Thanjavur district. It is on the banks of the Cauvery. My father was very strict. He was a vidwan like me. Unless I get up at 4:30 in the morning and practice singing for three hours, he will not allow me to eat my tiffin. A disciplinarian." The elder musician had already forgotten that he was 12,000 miles away from the banks of the Cauvery and that he is now 80 years old. He has gone back in time to 1930, when he was six years old. The receptionist also turns to her chores and starts entering data into her computer. Unlike the young man and the first receptionist who were unable to reconcile the heater problem, language and culture did not stop the elder musician and the second receptionist from having a hearty conversation with each other. When people show compassion and respect to each other and not judge each other -- accent, strange words, and even unrecognized Presidents would not stop them from interacting. They would understand when left is right and when West is East. As companions, they would find a common road to travel. This is
a fictional story based on a real event.
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