Quite surprisingly, Hollywood
superstar and California ex-Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger was in my
home city Madras (now called Chennai) the other day, in connection with a
South Indian cinema event featuring a Tamil movie with a
weight-lifting hero. Before
attending that function in a stadium in the evening, the former Mr.
Universe met the Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu State, Ms. Jayalalithaa
-- who was a glamorous leading lady in South Indian cinema once upon a
time -- in her office inside the Fort St. George.
Right
now, the local media here are wildly celebrating the 375th anniversary
of Madras, which grew around this 17th century British fortress on the
East coast of South India. As a very senior local man in this nostalgic setting, let me recall an essay I had written long ago, in which I had
mentioned the Fort St. George :
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Glossary
Tamil -- A living South Indian language, with ancient roots and classical status, as well as a massive cinema industry.
Tamil Nadu -- A South Indian State, where Tamil is the prime language.
Ajanta -- Ancient rock caves containing impressive Buddhist paintings and sculptures, in Maharashtra State in South-West India. .
Andhra Pradesh -- Another South Indian State.
Eternal City -- Rome.
---------- ----------
THE HINDU
Sunday Magazine
1963
THE LOCAL MAN
A
recent guest of mine, from the North, was unduly critical when I
confessed that I had never been up the High Court building, to visit the
lighthouse and enjoy the beautiful view of Madras one is supposed to
obtain from there, although I've been living in the city for years.
Being a hospitable man, I refrained from listing out all the well-known structures
of his own city, and asking him how many of them he could claim to know
at first hand ; but had I pressed the point, there's little doubt that
I should have silenced him.
The
local man is always on the point of 'doing' his parent city. Living so
close to its landmarks, he takes them more or less for granted, and it
seldom occurs to him to go out and explore them. Unlike the tourist and
the casual visitor, he's in no great hurry ; he can always afford to
wait till tomorrow, till next week, till next month. Naturally, he's
somewhat complacent about the city's sights, if not really indifferent
to their charms or fame. "One of these days. . . " is the recurring
burden of his song. Has the average New Yorker stepped up to the crown
of the Liberty Statue yet? I seriously doubt it. Has the ordinary
Florentine thoroughly explored the Palazzo Vecchio? Or the Parisian the
Pantheon? Or the Calcuttian the Victoria Memorial? Has the denizen of
the Eternal City ever stepped down to the weird catacombs? More likely
than not, all you will get from these worthies will be an evasive grin,
or a disarming shrug of the shoulders.
Intriguing ignorance
Needless
to say, the local man's education about his environment leaves much to
be desired ; he is decidedly, if understandably, an incompetent guide
in his own locality. But his guests, somehow, never seem to be capable
of realizing it; and they do not lightly forgive him when they are told
the truth. They consider it his rightful obligation to know
everything, and lead them everywhere. They are scandalized when it
comes to light that he isn't aware of the exact location of all those
ramparts and relics they have discovered in their guide-book ; that, in
fact, the poor fellow hasn't even heard of many of them. The birds of
passage, it must be said with regret, seldom pause to ask themselves how
much (or how little) they do know about their own municipal nests.
I
have never been abroad, but it requires no great experience or
imagination to observe that what is true of the city and the local man
is equally true of the nation and the native. I must confess that many a
foreign friend of mine has been intrigued by the extent of my
ignorance. I seem to know so little about our country's history and
literature ; so little, too, about our ancient monuments and noble
architecture. If someone asked me where the Blue Grotto is, I could
answer like a gunshot : "in Capri, Italy" ; but I have to think twice
before I can assert that Ajanta is not in Andhra Pradesh. I do know who
built the Louvre, where, when and what for ; yet I couldn't tell you
a thing about the origin of the Fort St. George.
Alien interest, native instincts
It's
quite useless, I suppose, to feel concerned about it ; for this malady
is universal, and perhaps quite inevitable. Yet I also wonder if the
superiority of the stranger's knowledge isn't merely superficial, after
all. He might have amassed a great wealth of information about the
alien city or state, but can he still presume to possess a true
understanding of it? Distance adds excitement to every place, and
involves the stranger in an endless, academic enquiry ; but doesn't
proximity -- though it kills curiosity and impairs one's conscious
interest -- produce that subconscious indigenous spirit which the
visitor can never penetrate, but which is part and parcel of the
resident's life? True, the outsider's impressions may be more
exhaustive, and often more accurate ; but aren't the local man's
instincts far deeper, and invariably more sensitive?
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