vivo en destierro

The previous post happened after I filled up my tax forms. One of the columns required me to calculate the number of days I had been in this country. The number doesn't even come close to representing the meaning of the two hundred and seven days.

The idea of migration/exile/all other forms of displacement intrigues me. I still don't understand what it is that fascinates me so much. My leaving home and coming here was a way of experiencing my own screwed up form of a voluntary exile.

It started with my grandmother's stories of the Partition - of her travelling by train,truck, and foot on a long journey from Pakistan to India in 1947. Then I became exposed to the atrocities suffered by the Tibetan refugees at the hands of the Chinese government. Once upon a time I thought about making a film on the unorganised migrant workers in Delhi - who come from small villages in nearby states to live and work in horrible conditions just so that they can survive. I've grown up with two Nepali women working in our house. Both came far away from their home in a village in the interiors of Nepal. I always felt their pain for their far-away family members who depended on their monthly wages. One of these women is now working for my distant relatives somewhere in America. A film that I did make recently was about the Kashmiri Pandit refugees living in Delhi. They left Kashmir in the late 1980s when violence intensified. I was interested in the Narmada Valley issue where the people living along the river had to leave their ancestral land to make way for a badly planned and completely inefficient dam. They had to let go of their cultural heritage that was intricately linked to the Narmada river. Exile poetry is of particular interest to me.

This random list is evidence enough I guess. I think my fascination has something to do with the idea of a 'homeland', of belonging to a tangible piece of land. That reminds me about my interest and film on the demolition of the Babri Masjid. The issue here is not just about the power of the dominant religion over the minority community, but about the birthplace of Ram. The belief that since Lord Ram was born on that piece of land god knows how many years ago, the land is holy and has to be honored with a Ram temple. The fight over land. The willingness of people to give and take lives for land. Maybe I'm moving on to a new subject now. You get the point, right?

I can't claim to be living the life of an exile by coming here. I wasn't forced to leave home. I didn't face any kind of exploitation. I have a loving home and family, and I chose to leave them and come here. But I also know that now I have come closer to the experience of a life in exile - the closest that I'll hopefully ever be.

One of my favorite poems by the courageous Tibetan poet and Free Tibet activist Tenzin Tsundue, titled HORIZON.

From home you have reached
the Horizon here.
From here to another
here you go.

From there to the next
next to the next
horizon to horizon
every step is a horizon.

Count the steps
and keep the number.

Pick the white pebbles
and the funny strange leaves.
Mark the curves
and cliffs around
for you may need
to come home again.