HELLO JI!

A WORD (OR TWO HUNDRED) FROM THE EDITOR

Image credit: SARAH PFLUG from Burst.

Having read (and loved) Anne of Green Gables back in school in India, I was thrilled to discover she was a major tourist attraction in Canada and practically an industry in Prince Edward Island. The tiny province boasts many attractions devoted to the freckle-faced, red-haired little girl who loved using big words and to the author who gave us the much-loved books. We had to go, I decided, and one summer several years ago, we did just that, driving up for an immersive Anne experience. Which included (my guilty secret) purchasing an Anne doll.

But back to the visit.  A lady at Lucy Maud Montgomery’s home on the Island asked us where we were from while showing us around and sharing details about the celebrated author’s life. Happened again at the next attraction associated with Anne. Each time I said, “Toronto,” and each time, an expression flitted across their faces at my response. Was it disappointment?

“They’d be happier if you said India,” my husband said with a chuckle. “Then they could add visitors from distant shores to their records.”

Where are you from? It’s a question visible minorities face all the time. Even second-generation Canadians, born and raised here, get the “But where are you really from?” version. Most of the time it’s well-meant, nothing more than friendly curiosity. A conversation opener, if you will.

But the innocuous question also makes some bristle, and is the cause of much living room discussion. What does one have to do to prove one belongs?  Until someone points out that we get the same question when we visit the countries we come from.

I could be dressed in my latest Fabindia find, speaking fluent Hindi, and yet, a shopkeeper in Delhi will ask, “Aap kahan se ho? (Where are you from?).”

“From here,” I protest, but he shakes his head, amused. It happens every time, and never fails to astonish me that shopkeepers peg me as being “not from here”.

Thus the way a fellow passenger on a flight from Bangalore to Toronto phrased the question took me by surprise. Very pleasant surprise. “Going home, or are you visiting?” he asked. He had earlier offered me the cookie on his tray and when I pointed to the one on mine, had tucked it into the seat pocket in front of him. “Never know when it might come in useful!” He’d also shared his pen to fill out the forms when I couldn’t find mine in my bag. He was friendly, yet non-intrusive.

I was happy to tell him we were going home.

Grant’s Desi Achiever Rabindranath Maharaj (2018) had said that while the concept of home changes over time, home is where you feel the most comfortable, where you understand things.

Many newcomers liken their situation to that of the mythical Trishanku, doomed to exist between heaven and earth, never fully belonging in either. I like to think of it as having the best of both worlds. We had gone home, and now we were returning home.

Happy Canada Day!

Shagorika Easwar