What’s in a place?

Where are you from?

Even today, this question puts me in a flux. What do I answer?
I still vividly remember the first time I was posed this question.  It was the time when I stepped out of the cosy comfort of my home to live an independent life in a hostel.
The initial few conversations with my seniors went like this.

Person 1: So where are you from?
Me: Um, Hyderabad.
P1: Oh okay. I am also from Hyderabad, where in Hyderabad do you live?
Me: Well, we no longer live there. My folks have moved  – to Raichur.
P1: Then why on earth would you say you are from Hyderabad??

P2: So where are you from?
Me: Um, Raichur.
P2: Raichur? Where’s that? So you grew up in this place?
Me: Um, no. I lived there for like a week. My folks just moved there from Hyderabad.
P2 (roaring with laughter): Then why on earth would you say you are from Raichur?

The third time I decided to be smarter (or so I thought)
P3: So where are you from?
Me: I am a native of Chennai.
P3: Oh, so you are a day scholar, you don’t live in the hostel?
Me: Huh….? No no. My family is not in Chennai.  I haven’t lived in Chennai in a really long time.
P3: Then why on earth would you say you are from Chennai?

And the saga continues. If my answer to the question is Hyderabad, the other person either starts speaking to me in Telugu or discussing the political history of AP. There are times I also get responses like “Great! I’ve never been there. When I do visit Hyd, you can show me around”. Huh? I haven’t actually lived in Hyderabad since 1998! Neither do I speak Telugu nor do I take interest in AP politics. I do go there once in every few months. But I am barely qualified to show around even the locality where my folks live in.
If I instead reply Chennai, the immediate follow up is “Where in Chennai?”, and I won’t have any further answers.

Where did you grow up?

Quite often I have had conversations with friends that start off like “I used to spend my summer vacations at my grandpa’s…my native village is…I’ve spent my childhood plucking mangoes from the trees in our farm at…” Wow! My summer vacations on the other hand used to be typical touristy stuff – family vacations to hill stations, beaches, historic sites and so on. Not only did I have a nomadic existence living a different city every three years, but even those summer vacations I ended up exploring newer places, adding to the diversity.

People talk about that one close ‘childhood friend’ all the time, the kind of friend I can’t particularly relate to. The phrase ‘we grew up together’ feels Greek to me. Of course I’ve had friends growing up too. I’ve had friends in each city I’ve lived in, making newer ones each time I move again, not necessarily losing touch with the older ones, thanks to technology. But can I categorize any of them as a ‘close friend from childhood’? Perhaps not. It’s more like I have a few ‘close friends’, whom I’ve met along the way in life, not from my native village, not my partner in crime plucking mangoes.

Patriotism? 

Which city do I owe allegiance to? For example when it comes to supporting a league team? Consider this situation with the Indian Premier League. I am a native of Chennai,  living in Bangalore, with folks settled in Hyderabad, and Mumbai being the favourite of all cities I’ve lived in. See my dilemma? I decided to root for Kolkata instead, as the team is owned by my favourite super star! When Kolkata failed miserably, I shifted loyalties to Mumbai over Chennai during the finals, for which I was given the tag of a ‘traitor’. Sigh. On the positive side, since my loyalty wasn’t exactly carved in stone, I ended up winning several freebies by supporting both Kolkata and Chennai.

But if you think of it, I can always make statements such as “Bangalore traffic is quite undisciplined”, or “Chennai weather sucks” or “Trivandrum is a calm and quiet place”, the sort of comparisons not everyone can make.  I can also choose my ‘favourite city to live in’ and not be bound by ancestral origins and stuff unlike most people I know whose favourite place to live in is invariably their ‘native village’.

Favourite cuisine?

One of the best things about living in different cities is to be able to experience different cuisines in their native place of origin. Note the emphasis. Sometime back, my friends took me along to ‘Ramanayak Udupi’ restaurant in Mumbai, promising me the ‘best south Indian food ever’. The ‘best south Indian food’? I would rate the place 2 out of 5 stars at-most. After having had authentic south Indian food in places like A2B, Saravanas, Murugans, Sangeetha etc. across Bangalore and Chennai, this one was a complete disappointment. But it’s hard to explain that to people who have not tried out ‘south Indian food’ beyond the borders of Mumbai. Similar was the case during the one time I ordered ‘Rajma curry’ in Trivandrum. To my horror, I got a dry/semi-gravy preparation made in coconut oil, garnished with shredded coconut! That was my own folly, I should’ve known better. So if I am asked about my favourite cuisine, I again can’t give a straight answer.  For most, it’s always ‘home food’. That means aloo paratha for a Punjabi, avial sambhar for a Keralite and Vada Pav for a Maharashtrian.  I on the other hand would like to take in the best of all worlds. South Indian pongal for breakfast, Punjabi gravy for lunch, Kolkata chaat for snacks, simple daal chawal for dinner, and Bengali sweets for desserts. Yes!

What language do you speak?

Most of the spoken word is with colleagues (English), friends (Hindi) and family (Tamil) – in descending order of usage. However, I can also speak Kannada, Telugu and a bit of German. Thanks to my changing schools every three years, I officially ended up learning Marathi and Kannada as part of my curriculum until the time I shifted to a KV in my later years.
Despite my multi-lingual abilities, I was never able to relate to any sort of an ‘ethnic group’. What I mean is that typically in a college or workplace you would find regional coteries. Tamilians always mingle with Tamilians. Likewise do the Andhrites, Kannadigas or the Hindi-speaking folks. While I can easily mingle around with any of the aforesaid groups, I can’t truly be classified as ‘one of them’ by any of them. Not that I ever wanted to be.

Final thoughts 

Having lived in so many different cities all my life, I now can’t imagine living in the same place for more than 4-5 years at a stretch. It would be so boring and devoid of excitement.
Ultimately, having such a diverse exposure has also taught me tolerance, adaptability and an appreciation for variety in ethnicity and culture, a trait not many people tend to exhibit. I have also had the privilege of developing a friends’ circle that can be as diverse as chalk and cheese, belonging to different regions, religions, speaking various languages.

Now I’ve already done two years in Mumbai. I guess its time to pack my bags and move on?

What’s in a name?

Having lived for two full years in Mumbai, I finally decided to take my own personal phone number. Yes, until now I was shamelessly using the one given by the office folks for all practical purposes.

Little did I expect what an irritating, yet amusing conversation I would end up having with the Airtel customer care executive.

This was supposed to be a verification call a few hours after I received my sim card, in order to activate the number. The conversation (in hindi) goes like this:

Caller: Madam, this is a verification call for activating your number, may I ask a few questions?
Me: Sure, go ahead.
Caller: What is your name?
Me: Priya Sunder
Caller: What is your surname?
Me: Sunder
Caller: What is your father’s name?
Me: Sunder
Caller: Oh, Sunder is your father’s name, then what is your surname?
Me: My surname is Sunder
Caller: Then what is your father’s name?
Me: I said Sunder
Caller: No, no not your surname. I’m asking your father’s name
Me: I just said my father’s name is Sunder
Caller: Okay, Sunder is your father’s name. What is your surname then?
Me: I have already told you twice, my surname is Sunder
Caller: Oh okay, can you please tell me what is your full name?
Me: Priya Sunder
Caller: So Priya is your first name, Sunder is your surname. Now I am asking you what is your father’s name?
Me: What the hell is wrong with you? How many times should I tell you that my surname is Sunder, which is my father’s name? What exactly is your problem now?

By now I had completely lost it. Seriously, How much simpler can it even get?
I mean, it’s just two names to remember – Priya and Sunder. Nothing complicated. On top of it, everything is already being shown in the system right in front of the executive for his verification, and yet he is completely baffled by the fact that my father’s name is the same as my surname.

These CC execs don’t understand simple norms of life. That a person’s surname can very well be their father’s name, especially if they are from the south. That there is no specific necessity for having a third and a different name that ought to be called a ‘surname’.
And these mobile companies don’t understand these subtler nuances of customer service. A little bit of training is the least I would expect Airtel to impart to these guys.