Thirty years ago, then as a recently arrived outsider in Delhi, I did a chore almost every week and sometimes more than once a week. Unlike all other chores that I was required to do, this was despite being a difficult one, was something that I really loved and eagerly looked forward to even though it meant getting up from bed at four in the morning, dressing up and taking the first bus to Old Delhi Railway station to receive someone coming from Assam. I would wait at the bus stop with just a roof in the biting cold of January but felt warm with the expectation of meeting someone from Assam- my home.
I did not have a phone and did not want to wake up my land lord to use his phone at such unearthly hours (I used his phone to receive calls and occasionally to make a call ) and therefore more often than not I would learn on arrival at the station that the train is delayed. Delays of Indian Railways trains particularly those coming from Assam were legion those days. I had no option but wait because commuting home and back again in an hour or two was meaningless. So what I would do? Buy myself a cup of coffee, later call my boss that I would be late for work. I ignored if his tone was not approving because I could not stop coming to receive my guests and knew that given the circumstances it was bound to happen again.
When my guests- usually a student applying for a college here or my relatives on on visit on government leave travel allowance, alight from the train, I would be overjoyed with fulfillment of the purpose of my efforts. I would take the guests home to my one room residence or find a suitable hotel if my place was not right (if it was a lady or elderly relative or just more than one). I was happy if it was someone I could bring home to stay with me because I could have more time to talk about things back home. As long as they stayed in Delhi I would be their guide after my work and on weekends for the entire waking hours. News would be extracted every moment when we would be together on everything from political scene, music, movies and personal news of every person we both knew. I would regale them with strange ways of the city that I have despite my not liking it, made my new home, things that my colleagues at work would hardly find interesting. Only an Assamese would understand our daily struggle on the city street with Delhi Hindi or Hindustani where every word was male or female and verbs, adjectives , possessive nouns- all changing by the gender of the subject of the sentence. With internet, Satellite TV, it is not so strange anymore but back then we were horrified that in Hindi a lot of macho stuff are like bus, government, police are actually feminine.
My visitors brought me a heart warming respite from the loneliness in what was then for me a friendless city. Contact with home was through letters that took more than a week either way. Long distance calls would cost a fortune and therefore ruled out. Frequent trips were just not affordable.
My guests wholeheartedly welcomed my attention that was a huge support for them in a big strange city. Most of them had come with very limited resources and were grateful for my finding an inexpensive place to stay and eat or my offer to accommodate them in my one room residence, for giving them company in shopping, sightseeing and everywhere. Finally, when I saw them off at the station how sad I was to miss them.
Other than this mobile society from home- the other option I made full use of was socializing with about 100 odd families from home who were too widely scattered over the city to be in touch regularly but always met to celebrate Magh Bihu, Bohag Bihu, Sankardev Tithi, Id Milan- those then very close and informal gatherings organized by Assam Association.
As time passed, I grew in my career and got more and more immersed in work. I married and raised a family. I found a few people whose company I enjoyed and we became close friends. Gradually though, I realised I had long stopped keeping track of who was coming from Assam. Actually many more people started coming from Assam and going back to come again on business, leisure or studies. More and more people came from everywhere in Assam to the city to work and settled down but I had very little to do with anyone of them except for those in my immediate family. I was gradually cut off from news from home (unless it was something big to be covered in national press), music and movies, personal tit bits about friends and relatives outside our immediate family. Being occupied with family and work, trips home were short and less frequent. It was as if a dark curtain enveloped over whatever I yearned for as home.
The blackout stayed for years. When not occupied I was depressed and asked myself- what worth was this life being so far away from home? I shared my feelings in the passing with a colleague. He smiled and said in a mock conspiratorial tone, “You know, you are successful and you have prospered. If you get something, you lose something else.” He was thoughtful for a moment. “I’ll tell you something, social bonds are actually inversely proportional to prosperity.” Hah, mathematical logic of my miserable feelings from a Maths honours graduate. He went on to explain. “It’s a trade off. If prosperity goes up, you are busier than before and you don’t get time to socialise. So, social bonds are not as strong unlike when you are a student or unemployed.” He said after having changed his tone to ‘matter-of-factly’ mode. You find many ‘matter-of-factly’ people like him in cities and cities seem to love them.
That was over two decades ago. Everything changed beyond recognition today. From about 100 odd families (mostly government employees) I am told the city today accommodates about 30,000 families from my home state and more if you count all the suburbs. I do not know most of them and can’t have time for all of them. They are in all kind of professions you can imagine. Many of them own houses in the city, many drive high end cars. In contrast, most of us 30 years ago did not have a car and lived in rented accommodation without much hope of ever owning a house here. There was no room for doubt that after retirement we were to go back home.
I retired recently and have not gone home. But home gradually came to me here. Not just that I bought my apartment in the city. Assamese TV channels with news, soaps, talk shows, movies are all here received via satellite. All newspapers I did not get are online now. Airfares crashed with open sky policy. Three decades ago a return trip to Guwahati would cost me more than a month’s salary. When I retired it was less than one tenth or even less if you looked around online. From no telephone at home, we now have four mobile phones in addition to a fixed line and broad band. Daily long distance calls from each of these phones are now routine. I lived in New York for 3 years and returned only five years ago and strangely though several thousand miles away while being there, I never felt like I did at Delhi 30 years ago.
I now rarely go to Railway station or airport anymore to receive someone. Visitors from home are substantially more informed and can easily find their way around with online help, google map and many more. They visit me sometimes but not for any support from me in the big strange city that is not strange anymore (as is not any other place in the world) but to have some good time together. There is nothing much ‘new’ that we could tell one another. Even without one to one contact in person, through phone or e mail- FaceBook keeps me informed about all- in words, pictures and video- who is doing what, what’s one eating, where is one going, who is one getting engaged to and marrying, babies delivered and more.
My cousin called me from Assam. He was sorry he could not find time to see me when he was here a few days ago. I smiled and understood- both of us are smug that we are in touch and didn’t feel like we are missing one another. I wondered how it would have played out 30 years ago.
It took me 30 years but I have got back my home. Right here in the big strange city that is strange no more.
