Mallayallees, Mallayallam and NRK's...

Identityless.
That is how I feel. Being a Mallu, born and brought up here except for a short, ok, a medium-sized period in Kerala, I feel I must have lost something essential. I don’t usually feel like this, and actually, I think I’m more in touch with my roots than most non-resident Keralites (Is that even right ? like non-resident Indians)
I mean, I know how to speak Malayalam quite fluently and I am proud of being able to read as well. I detest NRK’s who act like they don’t even know what the word ‘Malayalam’ means, and are proud of not knowing. I detest those mallu persons who act like Kerala is where losers come from and anybody they know with a mallu accent is the bane of their existence. Come on. Hardly anybody speaks English in Kerala and it’s definitely difficult for the poor things to change their accent, I know because there are lots of girls in my hostel who have this prob. Besides they are not as bad as the ones who speak English with a put-on accent (hi hi :-) hi hi) or Malayalam with a put-on anglisized accent.
Now I know that most non-mallus think that mallus are some sort of infestation, ‘they are there everywhere!’ but I won’t go into that. I’ll only say – witness our capabilities to migrate, adjust and multiply!!!
Anyway I know proper non-anglicized Malayalam, thank to my Amma and Appa. They spoke to me mostly in Malayalam for some three or four years from LKG onwards. They figured that I would learn good English in school and good Malayalam at home. Even now, I use Malayalam a lot at home. But the funny thing is, when I get mad or angry or upset or stressed out, I switch to English.

Now, the reason why I feel identyless is because I feel I don’t belong anywhere. I mean, yes, I LOVE Chennai and I LOVE being here. But when someone asks me where I am from, I am in a fix.
Do I say – Chennai? But I am not from here. Am I?
Kerala, then? But where in Kerala am I from? This is an especially sticky question when it comes from a mallu. Then, I have to say ‘Illa, njaan Chennai-yil thaneya ippo. Naattill Appa Kochin innum, Amma Parur innum aanu.’ Which roughly translates – ‘No, I am in Chennai only, now. In Kerala, my dad is from Kochin and my mom from Parur.’

So where exactly am I from?
Where do I belong?
Where are my roots?

Puzzling answerless questions – these.
They’ve been running thru my head since morning. All through working for my college newspaper, on the way back home, while finally finishing God of small things (which only served to add more fuel to the fire – who do I belong to? Estha and Rahel had each other. Wish I was a twin, same egg or not. Really doesn’t matter).

I feel good when I talk Malayalam. It makes me feel good. More mallu-ish. Like as if I actually am an original Kerala-cultured Mallayallee. The double L’s are intended. That’s the way it’s pronounced in Mallayallam. With stress on the L’s.
As a ‘brought up outside’ Malayalee, its understandable, I suppose, that I don’t know how to react when faced by unknown mallu-speaking strangers in a public place. And considering that there are loads of mallus in Chennai and most of them use Malayalam as a means of private communication in public places, that happens a lot. Do I just pretend I don’t understand them? Or do I just smile and wait for an opportunity to let them know even I am a malayalee? My dad for one, would either not be bothered, or would go upto the family or whoever, if they need help with something, most of the times, its directions, and give them help. Which would lead to them saying ‘Oh! Malayalee a?’ and voila! A friendship is born.
And if they are Syrian Christian – phone numbers are exchanged, church names are asked (- which terribly embarrasses my father, because we don’t really go to church, we just have a membership somewhere which must be invalid by now). Need I say more?
Mallus are terribly clannish and stick by each other and to each other like undiluted strong Fevicol. Syrian Christians even more.

About Kerala- my feelings for ende naadu, my native place, is kind of mixed. I love the place. God’s own country and all. The peaceful greenery that welcomes you back in the train window, the rustic towns that are cute in a … rustic? kind of way, the large tharavadu’s – the best place to play hide n seek and lots of old attics to explore (I loved my mom’s house in Parur. Spent all my time discovering old treasures among dusty, cob-webbed extra pieces of furniture, in the dark, mysterious rooms scattered about the place), and the oh! sooo heavenly, lovely loooovely food – that brings water to my mouth just thinking about the smell…
But as a not-very-liked and don’t-want-to-remember NRK guy told me once. There is nothing to do. There isn’t. Anything to do. So much of time and space and no place to go and no one to talk to.
And the people are a bit… a bit… weird? Is that the word I am searching for? Not hostile, very hospitable, actually, but just a bit eccentric and narrow-minded I suppose.
But in spite of spending four years of study there, only two people know how much I missed civilized Chennai and non-rustic (thank god!) city life. Me and God... :-) lol...

I love being Malayalee, love being a Chennaiite.
My two backgrounds confuse me, pull me from one side to the other.
Do I feel bad that Kerala’s unemployment rate is the highest in the country or do I look at it as just another useless fact? – After all Tamil Nadu’s employment rate is quite high.

I am in a very question – ing mood today.
I don’t usually go through inner conflicts related to my roots and heritage. And it’s very surprising to me that I managed to write such a long post about it.

I think I’ll stop here.
In a strange mood, today.

To all my non-mallu readers – Sorry, if you feel this post is irrelevant to you. You can comment on how you feel about your community.
And for the loooooong post. - thats to everyone
Ciao.