OPINION: Visit to India reminded me of what we take for granted in Ireland

by Navjyoti Dalal

A constant, nagging, comparison assumes a companion-like role once you take on a migration. It could be any migration -- moving cities, countries or continents. While it is natural for the mind to note the differences when encountering an unfamiliar territory, for a migrant this activity rarely takes a break.

A chunk of this data-comparison study is consumed by the currency conversion mental math, always at work during shopping, groceries or vanity. Sometimes you find yourself bemused over the open-ness of a new culture, at times you're annoyed at the weather (and often glorify the scorching heat of a homeland in the process); yet other times you pine for the diversity of fruits you'd find in any given season 'back home'. One's never truly 'here' without being mentally 'there'.

I have been oscillating between these two spaces for over four years that I have been in Ireland. In a first, my recent trip to India turned the tables of this dynamic. It was the first time I felt a longing for Ireland and my life here in the midst of my entire clan gathered together for a wedding.

A Role Reversal

I started noticing the withdrawal symptoms within an hour of leaving Dublin. My flight to Delhi halted at London, which is where I discerned the first difference in culture. The joviality was absent while the air had a transactional, matter-of-fact dryness to it which an overdose of Paddington tried to conceal.

Thankfully, the layover was short enough and I was headed to attend my brother's wedding. As the plane touched down in Delhi, I could see from the windows a familiar haze, typical of my city around November.

The plane carried more than 250 people (most of them Indians or Indian-origin) from Dublin and London. The first thing they are greeted by is toxic air, and the second, an absolutely callous and apathetic attitude. For reasons only Air India knows best, all 250+ of us had to wait more than two hours to trace and hunt our luggage.

Many of these passengers were elderly. They had just taken a 9-hour flight. Neither the airline nor the airport authorities had the heart to offer them a chair to seat themselves while they waited for the luggage.

I yearned for the amiability and thoughtfulness that is a hallmark of the Irish culture. The smile and small-talk may not change the situation, but it helps one tide through it better. I terribly missed the clean air, especially after being knocked out with a respiratory infection during the wedding.

Mourning The Death Of Your Home

I grew up in Delhi, and despite the city's reputation on women's safety, I have always felt safe. Perhaps it comes from knowing the city intimately. Part of it also has to do with an irrepressible optimism I hold within. Yet, none of the sanguinity could save me from the sorrow of witnessing my hometown slowly decay.

In the years that I have been away, each visit is a revelation about the changes, the growth and the burden it comes with. We have 5-minute delivery for groceries for as little as 10c; one can order or dine out at any given hour of the day for less than half the money one would spend in Europe; the public transport system is excellent too with a wide variety of locomotives to choose from; state-of-the-art flyovers, hospitals and shopping complexes; a running healthcare system (most of it private) which is reliable and accessible any time of the day, 7-days a week; a digitised economy where even a street food vendor transacts via UPI.

Oh, and we can get antibiotics over the counter, even without a prescription, sometimes on insistence of the pharmacist.

But there's another side to the coin. Despite living in the convenience capital of the world, India's citizens are dealing with unimaginable stress, frustration and anxiety. The roads are great, but the traffic an ordeal, the buildings are modern but the air is worse than a gas chamber. We have the biggest youth population in the world but they're struggling to find employment.

The cumulative weight of it all trickles down to people's attitudes, especially in public. When they are not angry or aggressive in an adverse (and sometimes not-adverse) situation, they are indifferent, almost sedated on a life that's too convenient. The streets are littered, and if you stay present for 10-minutes you will witness even the most educated-looking gentry throwing their garbage on the roadside.

The apathy seeps in interpersonal relationships as well. It is ironical to see your Kafka-quoting cousin judge a 7-year-old child wanting to play with a stray dog. "It is dirty, full of germs," she would explain. I don't know if I was judging people around me, but I did find myself opining on insensitivity, polarised views, rudeness and body shaming. And, like any good left-leaning-centrist, I blamed it on capitalism and carried on.

Winter to Spring

Ranting about my homeland is not what I am trying to achieve here. My country is a living paradox, and so many Indias die every now and then while as many take birth. Being away deprives you of a chance to acknowledge and come to terms with the change. Perhaps my quest is not for India, but the India of my childhood.

Though long-winding, this is my way of saying thank you to destiny for bringing me to this island. Not that the culture here is faultless. I have my pet peeves -- the unanchored youth, the growing distance between first and the third generation, and an unnecessary idolising of America.

But there's undeniable beauty to a culture which is curious to strike a friendship with a non-native with a simple 'What's the craic?'

I am not sure if the Irish are aware of the blessings of this land, but clean air, considerate people, orderly roads and a life with moderate convenience is no small feat. I can feel the old idea of 'home' crack open to sprout new roots to lay in this ground.

I am so looking forward to living here without a comparison with there.