Democracy, Chai and Happy June!

Swastika HARSH JAJOO
Jun 7, 2024
4 min read

Friday bus ride blog had to be put off because I’ve had a slightly exhausting morning, but after two coffees and an intensive origami making session where I was mildly bullied about not being able to fold paper boats, life seems to have regained its equilibrium. I’m sipping my Huel shake, which is one of those trendy dehydrated meals that gives you 40 grams of protein and some other essential nutrients, but I’ll have to admit — it’s not the most appetizing. I guess the most fun part about prepping this meal is putting the powder in a bottle and shaking it vigorously. Reminds me of the shake it shake it shake it baby make it make it make it Nescafe advertisement. How I’d love myself a good frothy cold coffee, with sugar lining the bottom of the cup, delightful crystalized bits that stand their ground despite the mixie’s rapid churning. My mum makes the best cold coffee ever — that, and Bournvita, are probably the only reasons I grew to like milk. Ice-cream, too, of course, but as a kid growing up in India, I was fed copious amounts of milk because calcium facilitates growth, or something along those lines. Anyhow, I will continue to sip my Huel shake, trying to be as forgiving as I can, as I share some highlights from this week, which has been truly eventful.

The highlight, of course, were the Indian General Elections. There were a lot of unanticipated victories and defeats, and I’m genuinely still shell shocked because I did not see this happening in my wildest dreams. News from my country has, more often than not, been extremely heartbreaking in the past couple years, and there was no other way to look at it except as a direct attack on the democratic fabric of society. To see political narrative reduced to the age-old Hindu-Muslim rhetoric, to see media not only subscribe to but actively promote in the formation of that rhetoric, to see how secularism, a forming principle of this country, was being actively looked over in the grand project of rebranding India as a Hindu nation — and to still, despite it all, see the results that we are today has reaffirmed my faith in the resilience of my people. My heart beams with pride, and I know that there is still a long, long way to go, but it seems like we’ve begun to take steps in the right direction. Like one of my college seniors shared, Sab taj uchhhale jayenge, sab takht giraaye jaayenge never seemed more apt.

This week, I also had the opportunity to attend a community festival that took place in front of Futaba Station — and it was a special evening for several reasons, mostly because it was surreal to see the sky’s changing hues around sunset time, colour interspersed with the laughter of people who’d gathered, discussing tacos, the future of education and poetry. To think that five years ago, a scene like this would be unthinkable. The other day, I went on a 10-km cycle ride around Futaba, listening to Kishore Kumar’s Raat Kali Ek Khwab Mei Aayi and Noor Jehan’s Sanu Nehr Waale Pul Te Bulaake. Out of all the cities I’ve lived in, and all the cities that live in me, I think this one has grown on me because it’s helping me grow in a direction I never imagined. It has helped me think of ambition as being able to run an extra kilometer, or finally gathering the courage to cycle again after abandoning the activity for at least a decade. It’s helping me sync with myself — hear myself more closely than I have ever before — a lot of which involves listening to the river, or letting yourself be completely washed over by bird sounds. The other day, I saw a wagtail in the bushes near the town office, and I’ve been thinking of it for almost three days now. Imagine the joy of that!! To have a bird on your mind for three continuous days as you try to juggle the one hundred tasks you’re supposed to do!! Truly, I love this little life. At this festival, I also received an author’s copy of a book that revolves around food and memory, and how both shape each other in Hamadori. I was invited to write an essay, and I tried to write about chai — a drink that has become synonymous with sukoon, reminding me of dadu but these days, more of what he stood for than just him. In a conversation with my brother, we were discussing how we remember people we lose, and what he said stayed with me — all we can probably do is take their legacy forward, especially in terms of values that we admired in them. That reminds me also of how my father set out on a project to plant 100000 trees to commemorate dadu, and was successfully able to accomplish his goal recently. I shared digital copies of the essay with some of my Japanese teachers, and they all sent forth such encouraging words — it overwhelms me with gratitude to think of how we started from not being able to construct a coherent sentence to writing about the deep, emotional, chai-lights of life. Excuse the pun. I love them all so much, and while I still continue to feel like somewhat of a failure because of the whole dropping out of my PhD thing, I’m trying to be more mindful of just how much happier and healthier I am — and that’s there’s so much that I’ve learned and continue to learn. I can still be a crybaby sometimes — that’s just my life trait.

Anyhow, this is all for today. Longish rant, I think. Thanks for staying till the end, and Happy Friday!