Gandhi as the currency of bonding in Colombia
Irecently read the news of the Colombian government providing assistance to hundreds of thousands of Venezuelan migrants that have been staying in Colombia without proper papers ever since the civil unrest in Venezuela. This revived memories from a visit to Colombia just before last year’s lockdown when I met Andre, a young Venezuelan immigrant.
As we waited for food at La Puerta Falsa, one of Colombia’s oldest eateries, my friends and I noticed our waiter looking at us, as if he were trying to muster the courage to ask us something. We had our meal with the raucous uproar that Indians are notorious for, but towards the end, the waiter finally came over and introduced himself as Andre. He explained in broken English, with a lot of help from Google Translate, how he planned to study history at the Central University of Venezuela, but circumstances forced him to leave his family, drop everything, and move to Colombia. He braved all odds and reached Bogota, where he found work waiting tables since he knew some English phrases that he had picked up from movies.
They did not get a lot of Indians at the restaurant, Andre said, but when he saw us, a group of tourists from India, he simply had to ask us about Gandhi.
Seeing Andre’s interest in India and Mahatma Gandhi, the numismatist in me woke up after ages. I took out a Rs 10 note from the wallet, thanking my stars for still having it since I had exchanged all the money for US Dollars and Colombian Pesos earlier. Andre refused to take the currency note initially, too self-respecting to accept what he thought was charity. But upon my insistence, he held the note with an ostensible mix of trepidation and excitement. He stared at the note with wide eyes, and after a few moments of silence, pointed to the picture of Gandhiji adorning the old note, and uttered a single word that was barely audible: Freedom.
In that moment, 16,000 km away from India, I realised how privileged I was, and a wave of emotions rushed through me. Andre’s eyes seemed moist as he handed me back the Rs 10 note, but I refused, asking him to take it, not as a tip or out of sympathy, but as a token of our new acquaintanceship, from one history-lover to another, across oceans.
I recalled my days as a keen numismatist as a student and knew how special currency notes from different parts of the world could be. I still remember pestering my relatives to get currency of the countries they visited. An uncle, who went abroad for science meets, would begin his visits by asking his hosts for their currency; all scientific pursuits and official business had to wait till then. Rs 10 was a small amount for me, but with Gandhiji’s photograph, it became a precious little gift for Andre.
Despite our language barrier, Andre seemed to understand my sentiments and hugged me. “Gracias, India!” he said. As we exited the gem of a restaurant after a sumptuous meal of Ajiaco, a thick, traditional chicken and potato soup served with corn on the cob, we ran into a famous Colombian film star with whom we chatted about Amitabh Bachchan and Shah Rukh Khan, while posing for a few selfies. But it was all too bland as compared to bonding with a complete stranger who did not understand my language, over a man who preached non-violence to the world. I hope Andre finds peace in Colombia now.
ANDRE REFUSED TO TAKE THE CURRENCY NOTE INITIALLY, TOO SELF-RESPECTING TO ACCEPT CHARITY. BUT UPON MY INSISTENCE, HE HELD THE NOTE WITH AN OSTENSIBLE MIX OF TREPIDATION AND EXCITEMENT