The calling…

Once every year it happens to me. Its happening to me again. The average starting age is around 18-21 in developed countries. Not being one to conform to normal statistics, this condition began for me at the tender age of three and in a not so developed country.

I'm usually a good girl, I work hard and make my parents proud. People tell me I'm kind and considerate and fun to talk to. But when this thing grips me, it doesn't let go. It just doesn't. And I feel obliged to indulge it. It doesn't always come at a convenient time and the affect it has on my life is rapid. Above average rapid. For most people I know it takes 3-6 months before it hits them. For me its usually 3 days to 5 weeks- tops. I blame my parents.

First Incident:

Three years old. Living in a rather large British colonial-style terrace house above a busy mall in a city in India. By busy I mean, besides your general cars, bicycles and people, there are cows. Cows pulling carts, or just wondering about in their own lazy haphazard ways doing their "business" along the way. Actually everything goes their own haphazard way. Also dogs, pigs, cats, mice, monkeys, pigeons, eagles, sparrows…There are also colourful rickshaws with hundreds of school kids, pigtails and red ribbons bunched together anywhere where there is a space big enough for their buttocks. If there isn't, they'll sit on top of someone else, it doesn't really matter. At least they are getting to school.

Sometimes there are holy men, with their long black matted hair and beards and saffron robes congregating outside your door with their begging bowls and their blessings. Other times there are hinjiras, or eunuchs in bright saris, singing birth songs in their masculine voices to greet a new born baby into this world.  

Everyone once in a while there is a very loud wedding procession with a groom alight a horse, his face veiled with flowers. He is usually surrounded by men in uniform carrying blinking lights, men with drums and other musical intruments and lots of people dancing and drinking down the street. People make room in case you're wondering.

Sometimes its the opposite. A mournful, loudly tearful crowd slowly make their way down the street, shouting or singing songs and words of sorrow. This time they're all in white. They usually carry the deceased above their heads, lying on a bed of flowers with marigolds for eyes. People make room. So do the cows.

Sometimes its even more exciting: people walk down, selling their toys, balloons or even ice-cream! Sometimes its this dish called "Malai makhan", a treat specific to that city. Its frothed cream, lightly spiced and strongly sugared. Yummy.

If this was happening in your street..wouldn't you want to join them? Wouldn't you? I would. I did. It scared my mum and dad. They were not able to find me for ages. Eventually they found me on my red tricycle chatting to a "dahi wallah." To my dismay, they put me and my tricycle on the rickshaw and took me home.     

One year later..

I was looking at a book. It had koalas, kangaroos and wombats and my favourite - the platypus. Me and my monkey (plush) Malloo liked it alot. Kids in the picture had white skin and yellow hair. They caught things called "yabbies" from the local creek and ate lamingtons and pavlova and meat pies. I told my mother that I wanted to do that and see those things. I was lucky, it happened. We moved to Australia. Malloo had to stay and look after my Daadi.

From then on, it became a normal thing in my life, every so often and with very little planning, we'd get up and go somewhere, sometimes for good, sometimes for a few days or a couple of months, sometimes for a year. If my parents didn't take me, I found my own adventure.

21 years later..

Last year and towards the end of 2004, I made a trip around Thailand, Laos and India on my own. The excuse was to teach English in Thailand and to see Daadi in India.

I'm going again. This time for 7 months to Thailand, my other home. As per Tanu Tradition, I only have 4 weeks to plan. Who knows what adventure awaits me as I get on that plane, but I will be sure to keep you informed.

Sawadee kaa.