Insider Out
Given the surfeit of writing that occurs in my life these days, I rarely drop by this place anymore, despite curious emails from friends and acquaintances wondering what's happened.
My blog is my space to ponder, and fortunately or unfortunately, of late I have had little time for that.
But then, there are also such things as kernels of notions that invisibly plant themselves within you, then gradually grow over time, till it spills forth at unexpected moments, words that you have heard others say but never thought you yourself would.
At such times, pondering is not an indulgence, it is vital.
I have lived in Australia since 1999, and now know the culture and people enough (I hope) to be able to function adequately in their midst - even when I'm the only one of my kind amongst them. I'm quite used to that notion now, of being the only one of my kind, in any room, in any situation. In fact, it's a second skin I now wear so comfortably that I know that all those I attract are of the same ken as well - that they belong nowhere but within themselves, that they're square pegs in round holes and didn't ask to be that way.
Perhaps it is because of this outsider status of mine, that I see things in my clients that others don't. That although being Indian (raised that way to the point of almost denying my Malaysian nationality) in an all-Australian department, I cannot seem to stand other Indians coming into the Library.
It is an awful feeling. It's akin to treason in my book, that I quite intentionally handle my Indian clients quite differently from my Australian ones - and in a negative way. But I cannot help it. I feel put in a position where I cannot deviate from my professional commitment to treat them just the way I do my other clients, which therefore means many rude things in the Indian book.
These things include:
1. No leniency in accepting e-card prerequisites.
2. Saying no to unreasonable IT demands (even though they come by due to lack of knowledge, not arrogance or laziness).
3. A brusque and no-nonsense manner, pre-empting any chattiness, because:
4. When Indians meet fellow Indians the instinct is to geographically locate you somewhere, if not an Indian region, then its diaspora - followed by a tracing of your geneaology back to the tiny little Indian village your forebears would've waded out from.
5. An expectation of rule bending 'to help out your own kind' once the above nexus is established.
It annoys me no end.
And it annoys me that it annoys me.
I can't seem to find my fixed position on this, and instead I ambit around a locus - I defend the Indians full-scale in the staff tea-room, suddenly representing the whole sub-continent, but after a few hours at the front desk I'm the first to spew the frustrations that they as a group have repeatedly inflicted on every member of the department. It's like my loyalties need to be cleaved down the middle in order for me to reach any level of coherency.
In all honesty - I'm a little surprised at the straight-up boorishness of this particular group that frequent my workplace (by group of course, I mean a 250-strong collossus that has invaded the city centre). I've always, in my various dealings with Indians and India, been charmed off my socks with their knowledge and refinement and intellect.
For the first time, it seems, the India of the village is encroaching upon the town-masquerading-as-city Brisbane. Collisions of culture seem harder than before, their powerful clanging against each other producing vibrations nobody has been prepared for. Hell, even I'm not, and it looks as if I'd been in training for it for years. I'm the perfect halfway house.
Is this natural resistance to being claimed by the Indian mob, a traitorous streak I need to address, or is it merely an indicator of all the various milestones I've crossed since I came here - crossed them to point of having reached the other side?
My blog is my space to ponder, and fortunately or unfortunately, of late I have had little time for that.
But then, there are also such things as kernels of notions that invisibly plant themselves within you, then gradually grow over time, till it spills forth at unexpected moments, words that you have heard others say but never thought you yourself would.
At such times, pondering is not an indulgence, it is vital.
I have lived in Australia since 1999, and now know the culture and people enough (I hope) to be able to function adequately in their midst - even when I'm the only one of my kind amongst them. I'm quite used to that notion now, of being the only one of my kind, in any room, in any situation. In fact, it's a second skin I now wear so comfortably that I know that all those I attract are of the same ken as well - that they belong nowhere but within themselves, that they're square pegs in round holes and didn't ask to be that way.
Perhaps it is because of this outsider status of mine, that I see things in my clients that others don't. That although being Indian (raised that way to the point of almost denying my Malaysian nationality) in an all-Australian department, I cannot seem to stand other Indians coming into the Library.
It is an awful feeling. It's akin to treason in my book, that I quite intentionally handle my Indian clients quite differently from my Australian ones - and in a negative way. But I cannot help it. I feel put in a position where I cannot deviate from my professional commitment to treat them just the way I do my other clients, which therefore means many rude things in the Indian book.
These things include:
1. No leniency in accepting e-card prerequisites.
2. Saying no to unreasonable IT demands (even though they come by due to lack of knowledge, not arrogance or laziness).
3. A brusque and no-nonsense manner, pre-empting any chattiness, because:
4. When Indians meet fellow Indians the instinct is to geographically locate you somewhere, if not an Indian region, then its diaspora - followed by a tracing of your geneaology back to the tiny little Indian village your forebears would've waded out from.
5. An expectation of rule bending 'to help out your own kind' once the above nexus is established.
It annoys me no end.
And it annoys me that it annoys me.
I can't seem to find my fixed position on this, and instead I ambit around a locus - I defend the Indians full-scale in the staff tea-room, suddenly representing the whole sub-continent, but after a few hours at the front desk I'm the first to spew the frustrations that they as a group have repeatedly inflicted on every member of the department. It's like my loyalties need to be cleaved down the middle in order for me to reach any level of coherency.
In all honesty - I'm a little surprised at the straight-up boorishness of this particular group that frequent my workplace (by group of course, I mean a 250-strong collossus that has invaded the city centre). I've always, in my various dealings with Indians and India, been charmed off my socks with their knowledge and refinement and intellect.
For the first time, it seems, the India of the village is encroaching upon the town-masquerading-as-city Brisbane. Collisions of culture seem harder than before, their powerful clanging against each other producing vibrations nobody has been prepared for. Hell, even I'm not, and it looks as if I'd been in training for it for years. I'm the perfect halfway house.
Is this natural resistance to being claimed by the Indian mob, a traitorous streak I need to address, or is it merely an indicator of all the various milestones I've crossed since I came here - crossed them to point of having reached the other side?
posted by Sreedhevi Iyer | 9:51 pm
3 Comments:
"...And it annoys me that it annoys me..."
Well said...!!!
As an outsider whose tenuous links to India have seen him allowed in to watch, I can say that I've seen this dance being played out by several of my desi friends. Indeed, even the pacing of the dance seems similar, with the friends most nearly in your position having been here roughly as long as you have been stuck on the penal side of the Tasman. Perhaps it's an inevitability, a rite of passage of sorts. Certainly I have heard nearly identical sentiments expressed by desi friends in positions similar to yours, although they lack your painful fluency and gift of expression. I must also add that it seems to be a dance that even those allowed in as spectators want to join, since your description of the split you feel between attacking and defending your fellow desis nicely sums up how I feel much of the time.
Thanks, Stuart - I knew you'd be one of the few who'd truly understand that post. It took quite a lot out of me to record that, to be honest.
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