Friday 16 April 2010

The Last Day of this city (Until I come back in May of course)

So, this is our last day. It is finished. I handed in my last paper. I made it perfectly clear in cool and calm tones that my exchange program was over. All I need is for them to hand in my marks. And that can be done over email. I have cleared my room. I have a bag full of stuff for the Didi with a daughter who is 'just you size Di!' I have fobbed my caffetier on to Nandini. We have arranged a farewell luncheon. Soon I will get my deposit back. I will have put all my crap in the bin or somewhere equally able to take it out of sight and out of mind. I am actually GOING.

Tonight we take the train from Delhi to Lucknow, arriving at some unholy hour of the morning in a new, and apparently hotter, city. Lucknow: the scene of the siege of the Residency and the battle for Awadh (Oudh), the relief led by Colin Campbell of the Highlanders (I think). I have studied it intensely anyway. It is called the Golden City, or the Constantinople of the East. I will update while there.

I don't really know about how I feel about leaving Delhi. This is the last time I will see many of the friends I made here. There are a few that I believe I am going to see again at some point in the future. But for the most part, I wouldn't bet on it. And then there are the people who have just been a part of my life. Made it a little bit simpler. Minaxi ma'am hitting me on the back when I have forgotten to sign and her infectious bubbling laugh. The Didis outside our room, laughing with each other and at us. The professors we have come to respect. The man in the History Dept canteen who laughs at us when we come for tchai. The tailor on Bangalo Road who always says hello whether or not you have something for him. The men in Barista who know our names. AIM cafe - our haven, our oasis of calm in a dust storm. The Koreans laughing at us every time we order anything Korean, always taking an active interest in our lives and giving us free tea when we are sick. 
And then my friends. Egle, our crazy Lithuanian who cannot accept her own successes as successes and who has the right consciousness to work for a better and fairer world. I may see her again - she wants to work in the UK. Ste, the lovely Swiss girl with such long blonde hair, I will see again in the North East. She can wait. Stephanie, Samuel, Gulshan, Guillame and Brunelle - the Frenchies. Will I see them again? Who knows. I hope so. Sam and Guillame's dancing will be burned into my memory forever. Paris looks a lot closer to the UK when you are in India. Then the Dutch, who I  will see again, who are traveling with us. They don't need to be thought about yet. There is Wouter and Lorriane: two very lovely people, very active, Wouter with all the precision of a military man and Lorriane with turquoise harem pants to match her eye shadow, both obsessed with children's toys especially the squeaky kind. Sansanee our mad and adorable Thai friend, who is probably going to drop out of University again and go off to live with monks or have a baby and name it Galaxy. Rachna, the shrieking Mauritian. Mehrnoush who oozes womanhood in a way we can only ever dream to do. Elham who has painted me. If I ever go to Iran, it is going to be for them. Elmira, one of the most driven young women I have ever met, the poet and sweet heart. Karima, my next door neighbor, who opens the door every morning and evening to hear the prayer call come over the buildings. Saloni, sweet and fresh and very much up for a laugh. She too has the activism to change her situation and that of other's around her. And she can salsa. Nitin, the chauvinist English student who is so obviously going to be a professor it hurts. Tanveer, who is going on her first flight to Paris soon. I hope it takes her further. I have managed to have some of my most interesting conversations here with her. I am so glad to have found someone as like minded as me. She gave me a book as a farewell gift on gender poetry. Nandini, I will see again. Next summer, in fact. And she will be here in Delhi when I get back. Her good bye can wait just a little longer. Anjalika, one of the most enviable women in this place, with perfect hair and skin and face and a brilliant laugh. She laughs at everything, even the things that are not funny.



ah. What will be will be. 

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