Migration

 

We know how the birds migrate: from places with fewer resources to those that offer more to them and their families. When birds migrate, they are typically looking for two things: food and places to nest and raise their young. Much like us as humans, who move for a livelihood or to be nearer to resources and career aspects in terms of modern standards.

In the last decade, migration from the Northeast borderland to Indian cities has surged dramatically. Migrants flee the borderland due to a lack of job opportunities at home and shifting societal ambitions. At the same time, increased retail and service sector employment prospects in Indian cities, labour recruiting in the borderlands, and burgeoning networks of migrants based on kin, family, and ethnic links all draw migrants to heartland cities. I remember being in an autorickshaw exploring the city's art centre. As small talk is important for understanding the common people's mindset, I struck up a conversation with an auto driver who happened to refer to native people and migrants from other cities as "us" and "them," and he told me how more people like me from the north-east have migrated to the city, and there are now more "us" than "them.”

(Keeping the remainder of the discourse on track, this is a multi-ethnic metropolis full of acculturation, with people who are indigenous to this land, and how they feel about themselves in an expanding place is a standalone subject of observation.)

It is to ponder what the actual cost of identity is, given that it is flexible and at times futile. Are we even what we think we are, as subjective as we may be? The distinction between "us" and "them" is an old concept explored in an anthropology lesson in academics. In some respects, we've all been migrants and nomads in our own term.

But don't we leave a lot behind when we migrate? Be it some of our delicacies that causes serious annoyance to the neighbor's olfactory (so much so that a whole film called Axone was produced about it) or basking in the winter sun with lovely little tangerines, leaving the doors and windows of our home wide open throughout the day without fear of theft or criminality. Beyond the grilled balconies and windows of the apartments, I miss my open window with a sunset view and, of course, people. In a small town where nearly everybody somehow knows almost everybody, smiles are a prominent mode of greeting.

Although dining out and café culture are popular among the town's young, one cannot deny the sense of belonging they feel while enjoying a late-evening black tea in Chowrasta, perhaps a stroll down the mall road, be it romantic, tragic, an important life choice, past regrets, or a bleak future. The markets typically close at 8 p.m. in the winter and up to 9 p.m.ish during the short summer nights. The greatest delight comes from spending time with family and friends at festivals held throughout the country and abroad. People consider it a great time to flaunt every aspect of home and life, be it flowers in the garden, clothes, or children excelling in their fields.

With the norms of fast-paced mainstream city life, where getting together is a weekend event, it might be an extraordinarily sluggish existence. Caught up in late evenings, with city lights, street food, high-end pubs, high-fare auto cabs and white cars, delusional faces, and everything that blings in the dark, momentum is frantic. We are, without a doubt, learning and growing.

Some theorists believe birds have an undiscovered interface that actually enables them to sense distant temperatures and weather conditions. We don’t know how birds do it, but they come back when temperatures warm up and food sources return. What do humans do? Lets see...

Nov, 2022