India Pt. 1: My Arrival
Around this time last year, I wrote a post about my quest to go back to my Hakka Chinese roots. The whole question of my identity, way of self-expression, and ultimately, contribution to this world concerned me. After rejecting my cultural heritage for the greater part of my life, something inside told me that it was time to reclaim it.
So when I purchased my ticket to India, I had only one goal in mind: to celebrate Chinese New Year in the town where my parents are from.
There would be no yoga teacher training, hippie adventure at the beach, nor mountain meditation retreat. This trip was about family and how it fit into my identity. As I write this post, I realize that embracing my roots is just another part of accepting my whole self; working towards accepting every part of who I am, because the time has finally come for me to get out there and kick ass.
My first trip to India was everything I could have wanted — I did this by making almost no plans and keeping my expectations to a minimum. The month of January flew by. I don’t know when, but I do know I’ll be back again someday. I’ve got family there to visit, after all! Here’s part 1 of how my trip began:
My Arrival
While most of my relatives began settling in Canada in the 1970s, a few of my father’s first cousins chose to stay in India to make a living and raise their families. Although some of these aunts and uncles had visited both Toronto and Montreal before, I had never crossed paths with them. I didn’t know much about them, really. Only when preparing for my trip did I begin to inquire: What title should I use when addressing them? How many children do they have and where do they live? Are there any other connections I’ve never been told about?
Weeks before my departure, I got my dad to call my uncle living in Delhi to touch base. I was to address him as Wei Hsing Bak, or just Ah-bak, or Bak-bak (the title used for an elder uncle on your father’s side). Turns out, Bak-bak was already aware that my cousin Bethany and I were going to be traveling and staying with him and his family. My other Ah-bak in Kolkata was also informed. I was somewhat nervous to meet them, but both relieved and grateful that I would have a home base throughout my trip and someone to call if ever there was an emergency.
I set off on New Year’s day.
Twenty+ hours of travel and layover time later, I landed in Delhi past midnight on the 3rd of January. After going through the tedious routine that comes with any international travel, I finally headed out the exit with my bags and began to scan the crowd. I had seen my uncle’s profile picture on WhatsApp, so had an idea of who I was looking for; luckily, this also kept eager taxi drivers at bay, since I didn’t seem like the typical vulnerable, disoriented tourist. I went from one end to the other, but didn’t spot anyone familiar. I decided to venture out and see what other pick-up areas there could be. Not even 10 steps out and there was my Ah-bak, coming up to meet me.
Even though I’d purchased an Indian SIM card, it couldn’t be activated for another 24 hours. But it didn’t matter because everything about my arrival had gone so smoothly. And if the timing was so perfect that I would bump into my uncle as soon as I stepped out into what so many people had described to me as the jarring culture shock of the Delhi airport, I knew that this trip would be filled with many other auspicious moments.
Sitting in the car, I watched the late night Delhi landscape roll by. Traffic at this hour was light, which made the unorthodox driving (in my eyes) fairly easy to digest. Conversing with my uncle felt natural and I was just glad to be safe and sound. About a half hour later, we reached our destination.
Upon entering my Ah-bak’s flat, there was a familiar smell and feel. The living room was filled with family photos, a welcoming couch covered in a floral sheet, the occasional random trinket lying around, and regular everyday objects. On the walls hung a few frames of Chinese paintings and calligraphy. And, a bit further in the dining room, almost exactly like at my parents’, an abundance of packets, tins, jars, and small boxes – some opened and others not – of snacks waiting around to be eaten and enjoyed.
As my uncle helped me with my bags and showed me to my room, it wasn’t long before he offered to heat up some noodles for me that he’d prepared earlier that evening. Although tempted, given the exhaustion and wee hour of the morning, I politely declined and settled in for the night, feeling completely at home.
2 Comments
Mee Jin Chen
Great to read your blog and your Part 1 video. Congratulations to have the dream and desire to write to share your discovery. I created on FB group “Hakka in USA”, Chinese from India in USA, and “Retired Hakka Worldwide”
admin
Thank you for your kind words of encouragement Mee Jin! There’s more to come :).
I’ll look for your groups on FB!