Old Friend

Mein India ponchi-gi hoon, aur idhir Punjab mein theen dinh ke leeyeh teher ri hoon, and clearly, practicing my grammatically challenged Hindi. Translated (for both those that don't understand hindi and for those who don't particularly understand my hindi-in-practice), I've reached India safe and sound, and am currently staying in Punjab for a few days before venturing to Himachal.

My 18 and some hour flight was interesting to say the least. I met an old friend- err, actually, I made an old friend, an 82 year-old friend to be exact. Joginder Johal is his name and he was born in 1928, officially making him my oldest friend.

I met Joginder prior to departure at the Pearson Airport where my mom, dad, brother and I were chatting after I had checked-in (probably about some emergency protocol for the hundreth time). Joginder was with his family, his daughter, son-in-law, and grandson, and was preparing for his 18 hour flight, which similar to me, he would be undertaking alone. However, unlike me, Mr. Johal didn't speak, read, or write a single word of english. But also unlike me, Mr. Johal, who I soon began to refer to as 'baba ji,' was born and raised in India and had life experiences to share. And so our symbiotic friendship began.

Baba ji and I boarded together and didn't talk much at first. I simply guided him to the correct areas where we would sit together. If someone was speaking to him in english, I translated, and he patted me on the head.

Once we boarded the plane, we seperated to our seats; I was in row 19, baba ji in 23. Since the plane was nearly empty, I had three seats to myself, allowing me to stretch my legs vertically as if I was laying on a bed. Comfortable indeed. Anywho, I put on my iPod, closed my eyes and attempted to fall asleep, just as baba ji came and tapped my foot. He gestured for me to move my feet and sat down, putting his bag in the vacant seat between us. After rummaging for a few minutes, baba ji pulled out two rotis with pindhi di subji (naan bread with spread) that his daughter had packed him and handed me one and said, 'kala puth, phir apa ghallah kardeh ah.' So we talked, and we ate, and it became a ritual. Before every meal on the plane, baba ji brought his food over to my seat, before which I had already moved to make some room, and we ate and talked. I helped him open his cases of food. Though he didn't tell me himself, I'm pretty sure he had something similar to, if not, rheumotoid artheritis...it was an autoimmune deficiency we learned about in anatomy/physiology this year. Anyways, after the meal, baba ji would return to his seat, and I would return to my music and thoughts.

This continued for the whole 18 hours, with those on the plane likely thinking we were grandaughter and grandfather. It was fun. I think Joginder Johal was the last piece of the puzzle for me... I mean, up until then, I was physically prepared for the next three months- I had packed my bugspray, sunscreens, emergency mr. noodles. But it really hadn't hit me, it hadn't stuck me that I was infact going to India and not returning for almost four months. Joginder, his stories, and simply his presence, evaporated all of my uncertainties, and made me feel like I was going home.

Anywho, baba ji and I seperated ways, only after we had to change his trolly three times in order to get his luggage across the airport. I met his family, and he said goodbye telling me I was just like a granddaughter. It was nice. He was nice. Maybe we'll cross paths again in Canada one day.

I was greeted at 4:00am Amrtisar time, by my second cousin, his mom, and dad, with whom I'm staying for only a few days. Here, I am gathering some daals, rice, salwaar kamizes (made of cotton only because it is ho-ot) for Himachal, and visiting some family/friends. On the 11th, meaning 3 days from today, I'll be driven up to Himachal on a very scenic route from what I'm told, and will be receivied by colleagues I will be working with.

That's all of the 'what, how, and who' bit, but really, I haven't said anything about how I've been feeling, what the emotional response accompanied by the drastic change in atmosphere has been. To be entirely honest, it hasn't been drastic at all. I've explain to the few close family and friends that I've called back home since arriving to India, that I'm feeling very content, almost at peace with myself. It's a weird feeling, as if India is an old friend, a place that I've left behind and returned to just to pick up where I left off. I feel like I'm supposed to be here and haven't felt the slightest bit of homesickness or culture shock. It's really weird and not what I expected. I honestly think I have more culture shock when I return to McMaster at the beginning of every school year...

Anywho, that's my two cents for now. I'll likely touch base again when I've reached Himachal and meet everyone I'm working with.

Miss you lots,


Sheiry D.