Columbus discovered America. Confusing all of us Indians.

Almost six years ago, I spent a couple of days at Sengottai with my uncle and aunt, whose home is across from grandma's home, which was sold a few years after grandma died.

My cousin, who lived a couple of hours away, had also come over with her two children.  Her son, who might have been about eight or nine years old, hesitantly walked up to me and asked, in English, "you live in America?"

"Yes. I have been there for a long, long time now."

The kid was now feeling a tad more confident.  "We learnt in school that Columbus discovered America."

I could not let go off the teacher within me.  "Oh, really!  Terrific!"  And then I added, "so, Columbus discovered America?"

"Yes. That is what the teacher told us."

"So, before Columbus discovered America, there were no people there?  He was the first person to go to America?"

"No.  Our teacher said there were people there."

"So, if there were people there already, then it means that somebody discovered America before Columbus did, right?"

The kid was stunned.  He hadn't thought about it.  His teacher hadn't told him that somebody else had known about America before Columbus.

Thanks to Columbus, who originally set sail to India, we have ended up referring to as Indians a whole bunch of different peoples with different cultures and traditions in an entirely different part of the world!  I joke with students that "I am an Indian from India, and not an Indian from here" whenever I want to highlight this insane historical accident.

In a matter of a few years after Columbus, the lives of the original peoples of the Americas changed. Forever. Dramatically. For the worse.

Observing the Andeans, even the mestizos, I was always left to wonder how chaotic the disruptions would have been when the Spaniards came into their lives.

It seemed as if this older woman at Plaza Grande carried in her, and in her face, all those old stories.  One wrinkle was about Columbus. Another was about Pizarro. A lot of lines, recalling a whole lot of people who messed them all up.

Even what she was selling at the plaza made it easy for me to relate to her and her culture: plantain chips, along with a spiced up mix of onions, tomatoes, chilies and lime and beans.  Reminded me of a similar concoction that is a hot favorite in India, especially at beaches and carnivals.

As I sat watching her, I wondered about the stories that might have been handed to her down the generations.  Or, was she, too, taught at school that Columbus discovered America?

My final day in Quito, I went to Museo Guayasamin.  I admit to being clueless about art. It is always a humbling and educational experience whenever I go to an art museum, especially in foreign lands.  A wonderful reminder about how little I know and how much I don't even know that I don't know!

I walked slowly by the exhibits. I was the only one in the museum, and was in no hurry. Some of the pieces reminded me of the village gods back in Pattamadai and Sengottai--the "maadans" who are not in the spectrum of the Hindu deities.  Perhaps the Indians, on either side of the planet, were praying to the same gods.

 I sat outside in the courtyard for a little while.  It was yet another lovely day in Quito, with a blue sky, and scattered white clouds. Ample Sun and a light breeze.

It was in such a paradise that the peoples lived until "Columbus discovered America."