Not as poignant as the google ad, but still...

Remember the home you spent your childhood summer holidays in? The one where you spent all afternoons running around trees or plucking fruits or throwing stones or whatever the hell it is you did as a kid. The one which makes you smile when you think about it. The place you can almost smell or feel on certain days- Yes, THAT house.

Now imagine you are told that it doesnt belong to your country anymore. You are political enemies now and since you are a potential threat to that country you will never ever be allowed to go back and visit. No, not even for one evening; not if you plead with the authorities that you  just want to see the place you grew up in and have no intention of blowing it up-your cousins live there, for heaven's sake. You apply and reapply in the hope that they might see sense but you are denied a visa every single time. 

While you are imagining this, there are some people for whom its true. 

We met one such person. Z, a Pakistani colleague who was born in India, whose cousins are in India.  When we were introduced to him as our "friendly neighbour" , I am ashamed to admit that I wondered if Indians and Pakistanis would be polite towards each other. I imagined it would be like putting Jesus and Mohammed in the same room and asking them to do some friendly networking. However, my apprehensions lasted for about ten seconds. The India team got along with him like a house on fire- his opening line to us was " Oh my god what are you guys doing to the West Indies". I was so happy and relieved- its not as if I thought he was a terrorist and I am not a big fan of patriosim and nationalism either. But the media has so deeply drilled the India Pakistan enmity into us, that even I was swayed. Conned into believing that maybe there was a fundamental difference between the two countries that went beyond political wars and trickery. And while I know that I am basing my judgements on the whole country by this one person  I am now fully convinced that we are essentially same the kind of people and the only thing that seperates us are political borders.( Of course, i knew it theoretically always, but now I feel it) Even the borders werent much of an issue in the early days, apparently.Until the 1960s, it was easy to go from India to Pakistan. Z's parents would pack their bags and decide to go to their cousins place in India on a whim.

But then we had to have a war. And create a situation where a Pakistani needs a visa for every city he wants to visit. (Did you know that? Pakistanis have city-specific visas for India) 

And thus it is that our friend Z could never ever visit his childhood home unfortunately located in the sacred hotspot of Varnasi  Its even sadder to think that in a decade or two, there will be no one with these memories, no images of childhood spent in India that makes them so open to meeting Indians. We would have a generation which grew up amidst war, listening to stories of how Pakistanis killed their relatives and what not. A generation which has no pleasant associations with Pakistan.

I am tempted to be cynical and say they are doomed, but who knows-Maybe they too will meet their Z equivalents and experience the joy of having their beliefs shattered, to their pleasant surprise.  After all, I belong to that generation and I have never meant "It was a pleasure to meet you" as much as I did with Z.

I sing the blues

Within a week of returning from our mindblasting trip to NZ, I was packing to go to Colombo. If you are thinking wow, she must be a globetrotting traveler, let me stop you right there.

I was going for an office trip.

So, while the rest of the travelers were snorkeling in Hikkaduwa, or watching whales in Mirissa I was going to spend three days inside a conference room listening to hastily made presentations, discussions on sales plans and participating in mind-numbing networking. As you can imagine, I was looking forward to it as much as much as I look forward to a Monday morning. The evenings were filled with award ceremonies and more opportunities to bond with colleagues over free drinks- Nothing better than discussing business with drunk colleagues! I knew how Sita felt- imprisoned alone with strange creatures around her speaking a strange language asking her to do things she wasnt the least bit interested in.

But I had it better than Sita. Between free time snatched during boring sessions or dinner with sane colleagues( by sane I mean those who ditched official meals for outside ones) , going to clean beaches after the events or before, and exploring a couple of sweet cafes- Colombo entertained much more than I expected it to. The city was clean and green- something India can vaguely grasp as a concept, but can never implement. The sea does its job pretty well- tirelessly hitting against rocks. And its almost meditative to watch it do that in the mornings before you start your day. And to do so with your favourite person from the office is a delight. A foreign place (even if it feels exactly like Madurai) is a good experience- you end up seeing at least a couple of different things. I had wandered into a railway station and I felt I was in 1900s-the trains were steamrollers! And in the place where we dined on the last day, as we were getting ready to leave, we saw a huge turtle trying to lay eggs! Perhaps the turtle felt bad for those of us who couldnt snorkel to visit it, so it was graciously visiting us. Orrrr it was cursing us for standing and while it was trying to procreate.

 As I snoozed my alarm on the day we were supposed to leave, I didnt realise that I was missing the opportunity to go for an early morning stroll- the last one I would get to do in Colombo. But I told myself its OK- Surely I would come back. For the snorkeling and the whales and a chance to go on the Ramayana trails. And most definitely to feel rich, for its one of the few places where the currency is weaker than the Indian rupee.

Yes, I definitely had it better than Sita.