The square

It was daunting to walk across that square in those first weeks. This square lay in the middle of the city, surrounded by a place of god, and behind the place of law. The gray imposing walls matched the gloomy, gray Irish skies more often than not. They grayness was a far cry from the crisp,warming months leading to sultry Indian summers that I had just left behind.  A sunless chill hit me every time I walked through this square. It was not as much the square, but that it led from a very broad, open streets to a series of alleys. At the first glance, it always felt like a dead end. Whenever I walked into this square, the street seemed to narrow in on me and the dark pubs and alleyways exiting the square made me feel even more claustrophobic. On most of those early days, backed with the weight of prejudice and typical Indian upbringing,  I could feel my body tense with anxiety of an impending attack by a wayward drunk. I would scurry along, in a hurry, to get out of there, reach wherever it was I was sleeping tonight, back to warmth and bright electric lights of my current AirBnB. Temporary accommodation days.

Two years, to this St. Paddy's day, I could remember my trip from India. My entire comfort zone was packed in my 23 Kilo suitcase. It felt heavier with the memories. Scared, determined for a new start I had left my life I had known and built over 30 odd years. I swiped and swiped through the old albums I had scanned in the days leading to my departure. It was a desperate, last minute attempt to pack all the memories of my entire life on the 15 GB free space provided by Google. Sadly, there is no storage for Amma's idli, cutney and kaai haalu (coconut milk side-dish, sweet and fragrant), or for Anna calling me "Putta (little one, I am 30+, but my dad still calls me that)! Putta!" every morning, or for the baby smell from my 3 month old nephew. 

Out of the corner of my eye I saw and heavy cloud part and blue-green waters appear. Then, I saw the emerald island. Much of it is blur now, but not the friendly banter of the immigration officer. 

He asked -"How ye doin'?"

I almost blurted my entire life history and emotional health, surprised by his kindness to actually care about my well-being. I would learn over the years that this was very Irish, you are not expected to reply to the question at all, simply consider this as an exaggerated hello, and ask the same question back, and say - not too bad if you feel too energetic that day. 

Even before I even summarized my life history in an audible reply he went on.

"Oh! You here from India, are ye? Here for  much sunshine?"

I replied, despite my internal doubts that a wrong word here could send me back home, worst get me arrested! My sarcasm leaks out when I am nervous. Despite my best efforts, I heard my sarcasm replying.

"Ya... and I am here for sunshine & warmth for sure". 

We both laughed and I warmed up in my heart under the four warm layers for the first time since I had left home.

I was in Cork, Ireland. Walked out of nearly empty airport, saw nearly empty streets, swaying drunks here and there. Wondering if I was truly in the most drunk country in the whole world. No, it was just after Paddy's day parade. I was lucky I got a taxi! Irish flags were here and there. I tilted my head 90 degrees and saw Indian flag, felt a little relieved.

Slowly, warmed by the heater my kind AirBnB host had left on for hours expecting me, I realized I am finally in Ireland! Enthusiasm filled me, I looked into my little notebook where I listed all the things I wanted to do. Then, the fear of being in a new country with new culture took over. Over the next days, the enthusias­m would wax and wane in a battle with anxiety and fear. I would walk across the gray square on the way to work, coming across many strange faces, still unable to discern their features. Being an Indian woman,  I was trained in stranger-danger. I would stare down at every stranger, especially a man with laser-eyes. A warning look to not try funny business. Strangely I got a -" hello! how are ye! ", at times. I was left bewildered. Did I know them? Was I expected to answer to strangers? My instinct would blare out my mental alarm system - STRANGER-DANGER!! Do nothing! Do not engage! Do not look! Walk away as soon as you can!

Who would have predicted that I would come to love this Irish quirk of saying hello to all. You never knew if you were running into a cousin here.

Another Paddy's day is here, two years on. What changed between now and then is perhaps time, and me. Last Sunday, I found myself walking down the same gray square. There are far fewer people for a Sunday, thanks to the lock-down. I look up at the impressive church and the swanky Sunday crowd catching on local gossip after Sunday mass. On other days I see the neatly pressed suits and stylish dresses of the litigators out for a smoke behind the courthouse. I look ahead and invariably taste in my mouth the sweet, sour and nicely spicy, hot pad Thai from Malay Kitchen, closest thing to homemade rasam (spicy, tangy and sweet broth soup from South of India, very specific to each home). In one of those narrow streets sits my favorite charity shop, Irish cancer Society, showcasing all of my current fashion sensibilities. Many a winter nights have been spent in the cozy pub Raven, around the corner, with warm people having a bit of craic. On this Sunday, I find myself rejoicing the blooming daisies in the little garden of St. Francis church, on the corner of the square. On my previous trips in these two years, ever so often, I have run into a friend or the other, or made a new friend here. I have enquired of many a strangers on how they were doing, without expecting a reply. How very Cork-ian of me! 

I am going home this day. It is warm. Spring is here. Home, not an AirBnB, well lit and feels like my space. I see another face, fresh off the boat. Much like my two-year past self she is scurrying along this square, avoiding eye contact. She gave a sheepish smile of familiarity to me. I returned a big smile, knowing exactly what she was going through, having an imaginary conversation with her, telling her- "It's going to be fine. You are going to be fine. You are in Cork now. Give it a little time. It's all going to be grand."

[The opinions here are mine and mine only. I do not intend to offend anyone. This is not a reflection of any class of people. The writing here, is in good faith.]