The truth is out there - Part I

Has the X-files series ever been popular in India? I have never been a fan myself but it taught me that “the truth is out there”. There is a slight problem tough: the truth is different, depending on where you are. The philosophers have found a nice name (a –ism name, the worst) for that nebulous concept: they call it relativism. My nomadic existence exposed me to its consequences: an incredibly large array of emotions, from embarrassment to disbelief, from amusement to irritation. Let me tell you my journey.

 

From Arras (North of France) to Pompadour (South West of France) – Age 7

 

Food is the landmark of regional identity as well as familial traditions. In the north of France, French fries (and its famous “baraques a frites”, which could be translated by chippies or French fry van) are an example of the rich heritage that “Ch’tis” (people living in the north of France) cherish with great pride. My family is no exception to the rule: we eat French fries every Saturday for lunch. It is a mandatory culinary rendezvous of the taste buds, a celebrated calorific orgy and a weekly tribute to the god Potato.  

 

Saturday is also a great day for pupils as schools’ bells ring at 12 pm (instead of 4:30pm the rest of the week). The teachers also long for that half-day, including Madame Raynaud, my new teacher from my school in the south of France. One Saturday, she asked the entire class: “And today is the day when...?” She could hardly hide her exalted excitement, expectantly looking at us with thrilled eyes. I raised my hand as the good student I have always been and convinced that my answer will unite us in the formidable communion between two people who understand each other. “Saturday is THE day of French fries, Madame!” Her shoulders dropped, completely winded. My first encounter with relativism was painfully humiliating.

...to be continued...