between this and that
Last Saturday morning I was up early volunteering at the Eurasian Association. I headed to Ceylon Rd and got in just before 9am. People were expected to come in for a subsidized health screening session and the volunteers would help them find their way around. While the blood and other tests were done indoor, there was a mobile x-ray unit parked a dozen meters away and I had to ensure the old souls crossed safely and found the bus.
I had always thought the Eurasian Association would be teaming with...well...Eurasians chicks...especially those cute looking ones. I was kind of disappointed when I couldn't see a single Eurasian, leave alone a cute chick. It was still early in the morning and I still had hopes.
Now don’t get me wrong here. When my Singaporean mom called me and ask me to come down and volunteer I said "yes" without a moment's thought about Eurasian chicks. Volunteering is a big thing for me, especially volunteering early in the morning. The only thing I like to volunteer for this early is another couple of hours in bed.
As the people trickled in for the test I started noticing the shade of the Caucasian. Some are very easily identifiable; others I guess had a tough time becoming members here! The EA, from what I have heard my Singaporean mom say, has been around for over 85 years and finds its origin from a literary association which catered to the Eurasian-British population of Singapore. Its primary aim is "to promote the economic, social, moral, physical and intellectual advancement of all Eurasian Singaporeans".
You might be wondering what is so interesting about EA or the morning that I have troubled myself to blog. Being at the EA and seeing the Eurasians some how reminded me of the Anglo Indians back home, in Bangalore. This is a community close to my heart since I studied in an Anglo-Indian school – Frank Anthony’s Public School. Mrs. Rego, Mr. Roderick, Mr. Mitchell, Mr. Samuel, Mr. Simcock, Mr. Fernandez, Mr. Brown...the list of names that jump out of the corridors of my memory is long.
There is this strange feeling that I felt when I was among them. I am trying hard to put it in words...it was a feeling of being among strangers. Well, I felt they were alien to the three dosas in my steel tiffin box, I felt they were alien to smell of the fresh mulaga-pudi (chili-powder) that accompanied the dosa. If any one of them were to ask me what I was having for lunch I would just say sandwich or something and walk away.
This strange feeling didn’t stop at dosas. I always wondered how their homes looked, what they watched on TV, what they spoke about when among themselves. It seemed like they were stuck in an age, a culture of the past. It seemed like they stood uncomfortably straddling two cultures, two homes, two histories...and somehow denied both.
Guys, relax, this was something I "felt"...its personal...it’s not a thesis. In fact I think my feelings might have been unfounded. Yes I had lots of Anglo-Indian friends but the friendship was inside the walls of the school. They trickled out after school and I didn’t know where they went and what they did. My feelings mostly emanate from my ignorance.
Another thing that made me feel strange was the education. The history classes telling me about the Aryans, the Vedas, the Ramayana and the Mahabharata sounded as if I was a foreigner in my own country and that I was learning about a culture not my own. It was not the mispronunciation of the Sanskrit words, it was more the disconnect between the story and the narrator. There was no pride in the delivery. There was no warmth. Enid Blyton's work came across as more real. I could imagine Mr. Mitchell - my English teacher - having those muffins and pies as a young lad, but I could never imagine him break a piece of idly between his fingers.
This blog is not to make u think I had an un-fulfilling learning experience at school. I loved school. I loved the Christmas tea parties, the fake Santa, the cakes, pastries, candies...and smell of foreign perfumes that surrounded the teachers...yeah...all of these. This blog came about to be because a remark by my Singaporean mom. She mentioned Eurasians come to her with various troubles and she counseled them. One such case was of a man, a Eurasian, who really believes he is actually Caucasian. He wouldn’t believe anything else. This belief comes with another - the belief that he is still living in a British colony, and that he is superior to anything non-British, so much so that he loathes working, working with or being subordinate to Chinese or Indians. A loathing so strong that he has stopped working all together and now finds himself in deep financial trouble being unable to support his 6 kids. My Singaporean mom told me he was even rude during the first counseling session – how could an Indian tell him how to lead his life?
When I walked him to the x-ray bus that afternoon, I was surprised I found no anger, no sarcasm, nothing negative for this man who is stuck between two worlds.
People end up like this many times because of their own choices, they end up doing something while loving something else, end up being someone they are not...but these Eurasians or those Anglo-Indians, they are here because of choices made by someone else.
I smile as I see the Eurasian walk towards the free breakfast arranged in the hall. I hope he wakes up and find himself before he destroys the lives of his children. I hope he feels at peace with who he is and where he is now. I hope my Anglo-Indian friends never felt any disconnect with our country and culture. I hope they all felt at home, as I do, walking in a crowded market - awash with the fragrance of jasmine flowers and turmeric paste.
iyer
