 Left is right, East is West
The Cleveland Thyagaraja Aradhana is one of the most well-known events among the Indians living in North America. Every year, during the month of April, the aradhana committee invites celebrated Carnatic musicians from India to give concerts. Most of the invitees stay at the Comfort Inn Motel in Euclid Avenue because it is located within walking distance from the Cleveland State University auditoriums where the performances are held.
The month of April is also the beginning of the spring season in North America and the weather is generally comfortable in most cities. However, Cleveland, situated on the banks of the great Erie Lake, is extremely cool. Because most of the artistes coming from India dress in the traditional Indian dhoti and jibba or sarees, they get very little protection against the cold and wind blowing from the great lakes.
It was about 5:45 n the evening and the outside temperature was quite low. A slight drizzle and a 30-miles per hour wind was making the low temperature miserable. There was hardly anyone in the Comfort Inn lobby area other than the receptionist behind the counter and I, sitting on one of the reception area sofas, stretching my legs before walking back to the auditorium to attend an evening concert. The elevator door opens and a young man, about 25 years of age and probably one of the artistes from India, gets out of the elevator and walks directly to the reception window.
The receptionist sees the young man and says, "Good Evening. How may I help you?" The young man replies with a strong Indian accent, "The heater in my room is not working. Only the A/C is working and it is making the room terribly cold. You need to get the heater fixed." The receptionist responds, "There is only one knob to operate both the A/C and the heater. You should turn the knob to the left to switch on the heater and to the right to switch on the A/C. Did you turn the knob to the left?"
The young man is having a tough time understanding the Mid-Western slang of the receptionist. Seeing the bland expression on the young man’s face, the receptionist assumes that the young man dressed in strange clothes, does not understand English. She decides to add gestures to her words. She stretches her right hand and using a turning motion, says, "To switch on the heater, you must turn the knob to the left; to the left."
For his part, the young man decides that the woman behind the counter is not bright enough to understand his problems. The young man sees the receptionist stretching her right hand but saying, “Turn the knob left,” decides that she is stupid. The receptionist was stretching her right hand because, to the young man standing opposite to her, it pointed to the left. It is better to put up with the cold in the room than with this stupid and incoherent receptionist. "OK. I will try." The young man walks away from the receptionist’s desk and as he was nearing the elevator, utters in Tamil, "This woman is an idiot. She does not even know the difference between left and right. Even the donkey in India is smarter than this woman. Only in America they will employ such people." Hearing this, I just smiled and said nothing.
Another fifteen minutes pass without anything eventful happening around the reception area. The only change was at the reception desk. A new receptionist has taken over from the previous one whose working hours for the day has ended. A middle-aged American gentleman and his wife walk in and occupy the two remaining sofas outside the reception area. After a few more minutes, the front door to the motel opens again and a very senior Indian musician clad in a dhoti and jibba and with his head covered by his angavastram like a scarf walks in. He was shivering and appeared tired because of the walk in the cold from the auditorium to the hotel lobby.
By now, all the seats in the reception area had been occupied and the senior musician, desperate to sit down and relax, could not find a vacant seat. I immediately get up and offer him my seat. He is very apologetic for taking my seat but glad that he could sit down. But each time the front door opens, cold air rushes into the reception area, making the musician shiver violently. Noticing this, the middle-aged American gentleman gets up, walks to the musician and says, “Sir, you should sit away from the front door. You will feel less cold. Let me sit on the sofa closer to the door and you take my seat. You will be more comfortable.”
The musician gets up with difficulty, moves to the sofa away from the front door, sits down and then, like a typical Indian elder, says in Tamil to the American gentleman, “You will live long. Andavan will bless you with all Shreyas.” The American gentleman did not understand what the elder gentleman from India was saying but inferred that he was blessing him. He turns to the musician and says, “Thank you, sir.” Five minutes later, the American gentleman and his wife leave the hotel lobby.
The receptionist who has taken over duties at the front desk turns to the musician and asks him, “Sir, can I get you some orange juice?” The musician replies, “No. I don’t take cold items. Cold items are not good for musicians. It affects the throat.” The receptionist catches the word “musician” and exclaims, “You are a musician?” “Yes. I have been a musician for 65 years. I have received lots of awards; even received them from two of the Presidents.” The receptionist is excited by the word “Presidents.” “Wow! Received award from two Presidents? Carter, Reagan?” The musician replies, “No. Not American Presidents. Sarvapalli Radhakrishnan, Abdul Kalam.” The receptionist had no clue who he was referring to.
After attending to a phone call, the receptionist continues her conversation with the musician, “My 14-year-old daughter is taking singing lessons. She even participates in the school opera. I hope one day she will be a reputed musician like you.” The musician is energised by the reference to music. “Thyagaraja Swamy wrote two great operas - Nowka Charitham and Prahlada Bhakti Vijayam.” He continues, “Ask your daughter to do sadhagam everyday. If she wants to be a good musician, she should do sadhagam. Practice makes you perfect. Also, ask her to attend cutcheries regularly. Listening is also important. I bless your daughter. One day, she will be a great musician and will receive the Sangeetha
Kalanidhi.”
Sadhagam, cutchery, Sangeetha Kalanidhi - words that make no sense. But, from his gestures and expressions, the receptionist is able to make a general sense of what he is saying. “I will tell my daughter that a great musician from India said that she should practice regularly. “Thank you for your advice.” Her next question, “Sir, did you learn music in the US?”
“No. No. I was born in Perayoor, a small village in Thanjavur district. It is on the banks of the Cauvery. My father, he was also a vidwan, was a disciplinarian. He will wake me up at 4:30 in the morning and make me do sadhagam for three hours; no tiffin before that.” The elder musician had drifted away 12,000 miles away to the banks of the Cauvery and to the time when he was an eight-year-old. The receptionist also turns to her chores and begins to enter data into her computer.
Unlike the young man and the first receptionist who were unable to reconcile the heater problem, language and culture did not stop the elder musician and the second receptionist from having a hearty conversation with each other. When people show respect and understanding and not rush to judgment - accent, strange words, and even unrecognised Presidents cannot stop them from having a hearty conversation. They understand when left is right and when East is West. As companions, they find a common road to travel.
Ram S. Sriram
Atlanta
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