While the humid air outside Chennai Airport filled my lungs last Sunday, I was mentally preparing myself for 6 weeks of unfamiliarity. Yet, this first week in India has brought me profound moments of connection and whanaungatanga. Unexpected bonds over food, gender, and linguistic identity grounded my mauri and uplifted my wairua, just as any good pōwhiri would do back home.
As we stepped onto the bus at Chennai, we were welcomed with sandalwood on our foreheads, vibrant scarves around our heads and a collection of Indian snacks. Jetlag was masked by the buzz of anticipation. So we ripped open our bags and began excitedly exchanging reviews of the kai and the worlds rushing past the window. Pondicherry. The next morning we attended a beautiful ceremony at a Hindu temple dedicated to Ganesha which concluded with us sitting and eating dessert together on the floor of the temple. Kai became a recurring symbol of connection for me this week. After an eventful few days in Pondicherry, we spent Friday travelling to Isha Yoga Centre, just outside of Coimbatore. There, we ate in silence, on the ground, using only our hands. While I struggled to eat with the same grace as the tangata whenua, I felt deeply grateful for the presence of those around me and the food we were sharing.
Before arriving in India I had preconceived ideas of how gender dynamics might function here. I was not prepared for the joy I have felt in my experiences of sisterhood and fraternity here. First I noticed displays of platonic affection between male friends. Men here often embrace, hold hands as they cross the road and lean on one another’s shoulders. I’m not used to seeing such open warmth between men in Aotearoa. Similarly, I felt many unexpected moments of connection and admiration amongst wāhine. We learned about sustainable fashion at Upasana Auroville and heard from female staff at a Hidesign (ethical luxury handbag) factory. This prompted me to reflect on how my purchases affect the largely female workers who make our clothing. Since arriving at Isha Yoga Centre on Friday, I have loved hearing women being referred to affectionately as Akka and observing gendered rituals. Although they initially seemed divisive I was challenged with the realisation that they can also strengthen community within each gendered group.
Tamil Nadu has a strong history of linguistic identity and advocacy which speaks to my passion for Te Reo Māori. Yesterday we visited an Isha Foundation school which uplifts Tamil culture and language alongside English. We split into smaller groups and were guided around the campus by three intelligent, passionate young high schoolers. I was inspired by the school, but even more so by our guides. One girl expressed her passion for Tamil history and her dream to become an archaeologist. Another girl shared her love for the Tamil language, the core of Tamil identity. She told us about the competitive Tamil speech competition, writing competitions book publishing and her school. When she found out that I spoke Te Reo Māori she was ecstatic. Minister of Parliament Hana-Rawhiti Maipi-Clarke ‘s speech had gone viral and she’d seen on the Tamil language news that a girl from a rural, indigenous community was in government standing up for her people and language. Our conversation left me with an overwhelming feeling of mutual respect and hope for the future of our languages.
This week has been a reminder that we can find whanaungatanga in unexpected places. It has been a testament to the power of kai, fraternity and language to cultivate a sense of unity that transcends cultural differences. I’m excited to see what other connections I discover over these next five weeks as we travel north to India’s sacred awa Ganga.
Mā te wā!