Another thing

Not a day goes by when I don't compare the country I left and the one I live in. Besides the obvious differences like discipline, jobs, cleanliness, medical care, food choices and family, there are many others you just can't put a finger on.

Today I thought of one such thing.

Besides family, friends and colleagues, I don't have a relationship with anyone here.

At home in Coimbatore there was the medical store guy who would even send something home if he didn't have it on hand. Then there was the bakery guy who was witness to one of my bicycle crossing debacles on the main road when I was 13. The watch repair shop guy who always had a smile and a 'how are you' that does not equate to 'hello'. The temple priest, the clothing store lady, the library owner. I'm not even venturing into the number of people who provided goods and services at the doorstep.

In Bombay it was the taxi guys who knew where I needed to go. The cleaning guy at my office who got us chocolate every evening. The watchman at my friend's apartment. When I was studying at different cities, there were the cafeteria workers, the tailors, the beauty parlour ladies and the children of my professors.

Here, every time I go to a grocery store there's a different person. To the librarian I am just one of the brown girls, all of whom look the same ( quite what I thought of every other race when I was younger). I have no tailors and there is no one who knows who I am or what I want. The only person who remotely recognizes me is the lady at the Indian restaurant, ironically.

Maybe I need to make an effort.

Caveat : Individual experiences may vary.