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July 30, 2009
Design = Finalized and Purchased. Hurray!
On Tuesday we confirmed our deal with Powertronics for a system that will provide power for three computers, a printer, and a network hub to connect the three. The $1,400 system will run on grid power when it is available, and when grid power fails, will switch to a taking power from batteries. The batteries will be charged through a combination of solar and grid power, and supply three hours of back-up. Powertronics said they will deliver the materials within seven days , and send an engineer to install the system three days after that. So theoretically, the system should be up and running by next Friday. However, if there's one thing I've learned well, it's that things have a tendency not to follow any schedule here, so we'll see what happens. In any case, the project should wrap up well before I leave on August 18th.
There is one addition to the system that we are thinking about making - right now, the batteries will be charged 50% by the solar panels, 50% by the grid. To charge the batteries entirely through solar power would require buying another solar panel, which costs Rs. 40,000 ($850.) Saturday (tomorrow) we will be discussing if this would be worth the extra cost and if we can raise the money before I leave. However, this is a small part of the system, and doesn't influence the overall design.
It's crazy that in just 19 days I'll be headed back to Michigan. I'm excited to be here, but looking forward to going home. I guess things are at a pretty good place.
Posted by avable at 10:23 PM | Comments (0)
July 22, 2009
First Impressions of the Caste System
In the last entry, I sort of glossed over something that I’ve been thinking about a whole lot – the caste system. Dave’s comment about it helped to remind me of how to mention it in passing is to simplify something that probably shouldn’t, so I’d like to give it a go. I feel obligated to offer the disclaimer that I’m still far from understanding things, and that my perception of the system is always changing. Ok, so here we go:
Our family is in the Brahaman caste, meaning we should devote our lives to learning and not to material and worldly issues. We are also to preach and share the knowledge we gain, and to stay humble in the process. Our caste is the most revered, and is supposed to set the example for others to follow. Other castes, include traders, warrior/kings, and then the general/common caste, which is supposed to follow the example set by the other castes. Within each caste are further distinctions, and it seems that within those distinctions are even more, so the whole thing is pretty huge. Everyone is conscience of the caste system all the time – their role in it relative to others, and the lines seem to be drawn very clearly.
For the most part, I had decided about the caste system before I had experienced it – the caste system and the concept of equality are at opposite ends, and since I believe in equality, I must necessarily not believe in the values of the caste system. The first time my uncle mentioned it, a feeling of disgust welled up in me – it was the same way I feel about racism. In fact, I was pretty embarrassed to be talking about it at all, because I thought it was one of those things that anyone with any decency would realize was a mistake, and it was one of those unspoken flaws in Indian culture. Any institutionalized discrimination was inherently wrong, and must sow seeds of unrest and contempt into its society.
But the weird part is the sense of harmony that seems to run through the culture. Despite the divisions between the castes, there doesn’t seem to be resentment, and what’s more, there seems to be the opposite. It seems that with the caste system, which is dug deeply into Indian society, the attitude is more close to “you do your work and I’ll do mine” then “this is the hierarchy. Deal with it.” I don’t understand it, and I don’t like it, but that’s what I see when I look for it – a system that divides people and yet manages to create equilibrium.
“Well there may be a sense of harmony, but that’s because you’re in a rural area where the privileged ones on the top of the pile prevent the others from rising by making sure they don’t know any better. It’s an enforced ignorance.“ said the other half of my brain. But the more I look around, the more it seems that this isn’t the case – Indian culture places an incredibly high value on education. The person who ironed my shirt for 6 cents per has two sons in college, and my aunt whose life consists of cooking, cleaning, and trips to the market down the street has earned a Masters degree in Sanskrit. Most impressive to me are the kids, and their almost militant focus on studies – the conversation between two trilingual 10 year olds that were sitting on our couch a few days ago was about Ph. Ds. School runs almost ten and a half months of the year, 6 hours a day 6 days of the week. And in the important 10th grade, many students also attend tutoring that isn’t mandatory from 6 am to 8 am prior to school at 10. Voluntarily taking extra classes from 6 am to 8am. What?!
And this comprehensive education isn’t limited to any one caste – all caste types attend the same schools, with the same opportunities. In fact, there is a government enforced policy that ensures a percentage (somewhere around 10%) of all placement in colleges and universities – even the ridiculously competitive IIT schools - comes from the less fortunate castes. So it’s not as though the lower castes are forced to live in ignorance and excluded from any opportunities. Nor is it as though the higher castes are trying to hang onto their place in the sun – they have introduced ways to account for the disadvantages that lower castes face. And I haven’t seen any resentment in the upper castes towards these policies, so this further confuses the picture for me.
Another thing getting called into question for me is the message of the caste system. From what I understand, the caste system says we are born into a caste, and that caste defines us. My initial translation of this was “we are born to be certain people – our genetics demand that we be that type of person.” However after talking with several people, it seems like an alternative interpretation is “we are born into a way of life that places values on different things than other people, and growing up and operating in that environment, we will be better at operating with those values than other people, so it is our obligation to do so.” It’s sort of like saying we inherit certain values and skills from our upbringing, and it is our duty to uphold our inheritance and pass it on. Both interpretations point to being born into a societal position that we are confined to, but from different angles – nurture versus nature. And I don’t think this is so far from Western philosophy, except that in the west, these things aren’t explicitly stated. I think it’s very natural to take on the values of the environment you are brought up in, and to assume you will carry on the values. However, I do disagree with saying that it is one’s responsibility to carry on these values.
Also, people very openly discuss the caste system. It isn’t at all uncomfortable to bring it up at the dinner table or in the school, and no one seems to mind at all. What’s more, it doesn’t seems as though people in the higher castes think of themselves as being better than people in lower castes. I was walking back from a run with three guys slightly younger than me (all 18+), and I was asking them about the caste system in their group of friends. One of them said “No brother, it is nothing. We are friends with all castes. What does it matter what we are?” It’s as though the system is so deep and embedded, it simply is. It’s not right or wrong in the minds of the people I’ve talked to, it is just a thing that exists. It doesn’t make one person better than another, it just determines which types of work we will end up doing.
However, finally I have to question my own conclusions, and just as the GRE taught me, examine the premises that they are built on. I come from a privileged caste, and operate almost exclusively within it – do I really know how the less fortunate castes feel about the system? My main source of information is my uncle, a Brahmin with a very respected and successful career - are his views of society the same as his neighbor’s? I am in a rural southern Indian village- is that representative of the whole of the country? I am part of a healthy family structure free of the unexpected pregnancies and gambling problems that destroyed other lives in this neighborhood – would I discuss concepts like “harmony” and “equilibrium” the same way if things were different?
It’s so hard for me to remember that in many cases, culture isn’t right or wrong. It’s just different. Am I in a position to judge another people’s culture? And even if I am, do I want to? Last semester, I took a class about the Italian writer Primo Levi who writes about his experience as a prisoner in the Holocaust, and he said it is wrong to say such huge events are “right” or “wrong” because the events are too complex to be labeled. To do so robs of the event of it’s true nature and is a lazy way to get around really understanding the matter. If that’s a how a Jew felt about the Holocaust, can I be so quick to judge the caste system?
Man, it is a complex world.
Posted by avable at 12:35 AM | Comments (0)
July 11, 2009
Functioning In Pavagada
I just spent my first three days in Pavagada, and it was whirlwind of meeting people, going places, and eating spicy food. My uncle Subba has been taking me around on his motor bike, showing me different sights around the village and introducing me to everyone he interacts with, which seems to be nearly everyone we see.. However, I’m not usually introduced as Raj – my first title is usually Pushpa’s muga (son), or more likely , Anusha’s tuma (little brother). My sister spent a year teaching chemistry at the school where I’ll be, and really seems to have wowed the whole town while she was here. Usually people are only partially interested in me until they hear “Anusha’s tuma,” at which point their eyes light up and they launch into a memory of her. In fact, the first night I was in Pavagada, we spent about 45 minutes sitting around reflecting on Anusha’s “generosity of spirit” and “endless patience.”
In addition to meeting many people and discussing Anusha’s seemingly endless number of winning qualities, I’ve also spent a lot of time at “functions.” I’m still not quite sure what gets called a function, because I’ve been to three of them, and each one has been completely different. Whatever they are, they are steeped in formality and tradition and speeches that seem to be ignored by the audience, and all in all, good social experiences.
The first one I went to was to honor a man who had conducted 1,000 pujas (religious ceremonies). The function was held in a temple, and it was beautiful - there was a hall filled with women sitting in rows on the floor, eating all sorts of brightly colored food with huge banana leaves as plates. My cousin Rushmi said it would be too embarrassing if I went around taking pictures, so I didn’t, but I wish I had. After eating a huge amount of food that I can’t pronounce, we stumbled back home for a nap that turned into a 19 hour sleeping marathon for me – I don’t know why, but I was completely exhausted and just slept and slept and slept.
The next morning, I was sitting at the table figuring out things for the project when my uncle said “If a gentleman came by in 10 minutes to pick you up, would you make a speech at a function?” I wanted to say “Are you kidding? No way.” but instead said “yeah…sure…” and committed myself to Function 2: End of the Semester Celebration at the Government Institute. My uncle said “There are some students graduating, and they may be nervous about the future, so just reassure them they are smart and there will be job opportunities for them” then left to go make a business call. I sat at the table trying to think what I would say to a bunch of rural Indians my age about getting a job – something I haven’t even done – but didn’t have long to think about it, because a guy showed up on a motor bike and it was off to the Government Technical Institute. When we got there, I was ushered up onto a stage in front of about 120 uninterested 20 year olds and given what felt like was the seat of honor. After several speeches from people who actually seemed to deserve to be sitting on the stage, I helped to hand out sporting award trophies, then made a speech about the bright future of electricians and fitters in India. However, my “speech” was only about 45 seconds long, and I don’t think well-understood, because when I sat down, there was a second of a silence, then some scattered applause. If you don’t really understand what you just read, then I think I’ve done a good job describing the event, because I sure don’t know what happened.
After the ceremony, my uncle picked me up and took me straight to my third function, which was actually for me – it was my introduction to Jnana Bodhini, where I’ll be working to install the solar system. We sat in a class room in front of the 80 students that made up the 10th standard ( = senior class) and I was treated to 20 minutes of hearing how noble and generous I was and given a garland of flowers to wear. Then I was asked to make my second impromptu speech of the day, which came out only slightly better than the first, and which is captured on film. Following, the teachers left the room and I was asked to explain what I’ll be doing at the school to the class. The lesson on a solar-powered system actually went pretty well, and after it I went home with my uncle. So those are the functions – do you get the joke in the title to this entry? Funny, huh?
The day after my introductory function at the school, I went back to Jnana Bodhini School with my uncle to discuss the project with his childhood friend and one of the men who helped to create the school with him – Mr. Anand Rao, or Anand Uncle, as I now call him. When my uncle said we were going to talk about the project, I imagined myself presenting the design I had come up, and the two of them looking impressed and pleased. In reality, I sat on the other side of the desk of them and and watched them argue over things in Kannada (the local language), turning to me occasionally for input. However, they both have a lot of experience doing very similar work, so I disregarded the initial ripples of resentment I felt and took in the experience as best I could. Although the plan has changed pretty significantly since that meeting, it felt good to finally be in the school I had thought so much about, sitting near the computers that we’d be powering with the students that would be using them hard at work in the surrounding classrooms.
Pavagada is an interesting place. I don’t know how to try and capture it, because I’m still trying to understand it myself. My first impression is that it is a very family-centered farming community where kids wonder the streets in packs, invading unsuspecting homes to demand attention and food. There is a beautiful sense of family that seems to run through all the houses, and each evening a group of women congregate at the corner of the block to gossip about new developments in village politics while their kids rocket around them, playing hide and seek between their multi-colored saris. I don’t want to misrepresent things though – the sanitation level of the area disgusts me. Pigs, cows, and feral dogs wonder the streets and open-air sewers are everywhere. Also, the caste system is very much a presense here (my uncle’s house is on “Brahmin Street) and poverty seems to be everywhere you look. But the poverty doesn’t bring people down – it’s a part of life here, so it is accepted. All in all, it seems like an exciting place to be, and I look forward to getting to know it better.
To summarize the project briefly, after the initial meeting in the school, we changed the design to incorporate an inverter the school already has. With this design, I came back to Bangalore with Anand Uncle and his son Ajay to meet with a Mr. Srinivasan, who works for a company that sell solar parts in the area. At this meeting, he outlined a slightly different design for us that would cost about half the cost and supply more power, which blew our minds and got us very excite d. I’ll be headed back to Pavagada tomorrow or Monday, where I hope to spend time meeting more students while we wait to hear from Mr. Srinivasan– my aunt has already organized for me to go running with two other boys and to play chess with what sounds like half the neighborhood. It’s good to have a loving family.
Finally, I’ve started uploading videos onto YouTube, including the awkward speech I gave during my introduction to the school function. Right now, YouTube isn’t working so I can’t copy the links, but if you search some combination of “raj vable pavagada solar power bangalore india” the right clips should (hopefully) show up. If nothing published by ‘rajvable’ shows up, please let me know, and I’ll figure out what to do. For some reason, it isn’t easy to find them by searching, so if you find one then click on my name in the upper right corner (rajvable) you can see the four ones I’ve posted so far.
Man, writing this blog is way more difficult than I thought it would be. I can’t decide if it’s better to write about experiences or the thoughts these experiences lead to, or some mixture of both. I hope this is interesting for you to read, and if you have ideas on how to improve it, please let me know.
- Raj
Posted by avable at 11:28 AM | Comments (0)
July 04, 2009
The Wilderness Must Be Explored!
You know that saying "making a house into a home?" Actually, I don't think that's even the expression. But it involves "house" and "home" and brings up the difference in the two, and that's what I'm trying to talk about. You know that one? Well, I've been thinking about it and my grandmother (my ajji) and how this house would not be a home without her. She is it and it is her and the two are completely wrapped up in each other. And the home seems to extend both out onto the street where the milk and coconut vendors come on their bikes selling their goods and into the back where dishes are washed and the laundry is hung. Although it's easy enough to point to the places where the house ends, it's difficult for me to draw lines where my ajji's home ends and the rest of the world begins. Getting to know my ajji and her home in the last four days has been so interesting because besides begining to understand how Indian culture seems to work, I've also started to understand my mother better too. I guess we really are products of parents and environment, and now I understand why mom always makes sure we are overfed before we leave the house.
But to paint the picture that the home here is just my ajji operating by herself is pretty inaccurate. There is a constant cycle of people coming and going - Lakshama who cleans and does laundry, the cook whose name I can't remember and her 10 year old daughter, Vanni Auntie who lives up-stairs with her family, plus all the family members who constantly are dropping by just to see how things are. The home seems to be more of an organization run by all these beautiful women with my grandmother at the center, coordinating everyone and making sure we are all well fed and rested. I've spent the last four days sitting in the house and observining everyone in action, and it's been a very enlightening experience.
I've been thinking a lot about how after spending five weeks here, my friend Amanda said "India is not for everyone" and why my mind wants to fight that idea so hard. I guess I want to believe that India is really not that difficult, it's just slightly different from the West, but nothing that we wouldn't expect. Maybe that's part of my Indian identity wanting to surface and be embraced, or maybe it's because I want things to just make sense in my head. But the more I really delve into my experience here, the more I begin to question how easy it is to adapt to this completely different way of life.
I feel like my experience is different because I've grown up visiting the country every few years, so the initial shock that most people would get the first time has been spread out over the last 18 years, starting when I was about four and EVERYTHING was big and unknown. Coming to India at a young age introduced some of the culture shock to me early enough that I don't think I realized what was really going on. But this time, I've been seeing things in a new light, because I don't have my parents' apron strings to hold onto, and my initiative is all I can rely on to get things to happen. And it's interesting, because I'm staying in the same house as always, so for this subtle but significant change - me showing initiative rather than letting things happen for me - to happen in this house is pretty difficult. The first day I was here, I was dangerously close to slipping back into the routine of letting other people decide my schedule for me, but luckily I caught myself early on and went exploring on my own. I feel like that is something Italy taught me - as long as you don't mind looking like a bit of a fool, you can really do whatever you want in a new place. I think that's largely because people are inherently similar and understand the desire to explore; I like to believe that at the root of everything, an Indian has the same curiosity as an American, and although it may manifest itself in different ways, the two concepts are parallel in both people's minds.
One thing I've noticed that seems very shere is a sense of entitlement. Entitlement in the good light. Indians seem to have a fierce expectation to get what they deserve, and have no problem speaking up to make sure they get it. And since this is an unspoken expectation for everyone, they aren't offended when people are abrasive with them; the other person isn't being rude or offensive, they are just looking to get what they feel they deserve. For example, I've noticed that when people ask directions, they don't go up to a person and beat around the bush. They say "where is Ghandi Bazaar" with direction and assertion and confidence. And the person being asked is not offended by what seems to me to be a demand for their knowledge; they understand that the person asking feels a right to the other's knowledge, and respond easily. The first time someone did this to me, I got all flustered and sputtered "I..don't know..I'm sorry..." but the person was already moving to the next person by the time I get react. My initial hesitation said it all, and the person didn't have to wait for me to say the words to know my answer.
So noticing this, I decided to test things out for myself. I went for a run yesterday and got lost, but I knew the general direction I was supposed to be headed. As I was wondering back, I saw a guy leaning against a garage looking bored out of his mind. I went up to him and pretty much stated "Jayanagar 7th Block?" and he looked up, tilted his head in a direction, then went back to being bored. I felt like I had won a small victory against my own apprehnsion, and although I think he pointed me in the wrong direction, I was alright with getting more lost.
This cultivated atmosphere of entitlement/independence/inner strength also seems to be a source for the chaos underlies the city. Everyone seems to be pushing in their own direction so hard that when they bump into people pushing in other directions, they bounce off pretty hard. This would be alright in a place with more room to breath, but in the city where everyone is packed so tightly, things tend to spiral out of control. For me, this dynamic of city life is played out in the streets - the roads are pure chaos here. The tiny auto rickshaws and scooters play chicken with the busses and cars, and people on foot feel they have as much right to the road as anyone else. Everyone has a place to go, and to hell with the person that tries to get in the way from that happening. Our family friend Arvind took me for a walk where he literally was holding my hand, and when we got to our first intersection he said "Have you learned how to cross the road yet? No? Well the first step is to pray." I was lucky to have him with me, because there's no way I would have made it across the road by myself. Crossing the street reminds me of being on the bridge between the CCRB and CC Little and having a herd of bikers bearing down on you. It seems like you have to boldly strike out in a direction, and if you falter for a second, you'll get smacked. To me as an outsider, this seems intimidating, but to the people who were brought up this way it's second nature, so as long as everyone does what they are supposed to and doesn't waver, we'll all get where we're supposed to...that or get in a really ugly accident.
Before our group went to Detroit on Spring Break, we were talking about what it means for something to really be cultural. Ericka came up with a beautiful description when she said something is really of a culture if "it couldn't survive outside of it's home environment." If something doesn't make sense out of the context that it is a part of, then it is really of that culture. Last night, my cousin Raksha took me out to eat dosas, which are like paper thin pancakes stuffed with a potato/onion/mustard seed filling, and noticing how many bare feet I saw, I asked "Is there a reason why none of the servers are wearing shoes?" to which she replied "Shoes? Why would they?" And it was great. It was one of those moments where the gap between our experiences seemed more than just differences in personality or age; it was really a culture difference. I just kind of shut up and sat down where I was supposed to, and let her guide me through the experience. I'm not sure why what Ericka said about culture and what Raksha said about shoes are linked together in my mind, but theres some sort of connection there...
Well, I'm going to turn off this hose of thoughts for now, because my ajji is waiting for me to drink coffee. Today I'll be heading to Pavagada, the village where I'll be staying, but only briefly. My uncle has already arranged for a meeting with another solar panel vendor here in Bangalore, so after going to the school in Pavagada and getting a good idea of the current state of things, we'll be jumping back to the city again. I don't think I've mentioned it yet, but yesterday we met with two gentlemen at a different solar panel company, and that experience was also pretty interesting. If you find yourself with any patience left, please check out the other blog where I have the opportunity to rant: www.mblog.lib.umich.edu\SSA09. This is the blog for all the people who have been sponsored by the Center for South Asian Studies, and it's great to read about everyone else's experiences. I haven't updated it in a while, but I will soon, I promise! I think from now on, I'll try to keep personal reflections on this blog and project related stuff on the other one.
I''ve been taking lots of pictures and making videos (much to the embarrassment of my cousin Raksha), and I'm hoping to figure out a good way to get everything online. I think I'll probably set up a YouTube account for the videos, and maybe a Flicker account for the pictures? If anyone has a suggestion that doesn't involve Facebook, please let me know!
I haven't been listening to much music, but here's one song that has hooked me hard:
"Mi Viejo" by Ratatat
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qK0DtOX59ks
Until next time!
Raj
Posted by avable at 11:55 PM | Comments (0)
July 02, 2009
Travelling
Riding in an airplane reminds me of taking the elevator – we get to ride in uncomfortably tight quarters with people we don’t know. However, while an elevator ride is a pretty mundane event that lasts about a minute and is usually awkwardly silent, a plane ride is the beginning to an adventure, and long enough that a little conversation to pass the time is almost a guarantee. I was thinking about how many different conversations I had on my trip from Ann Arbor to Bangalore (where I arrived safe and sound last night at 2 AM), and it’s pretty neat to reflect on them.
Dave gave me a ride from Ann Arbor to the Detroit airport, and on the way we talked about his first day at work with the Clean Water Action party, and all the things I should have taken care of before leaving that I was dumping on him to get done. Then on the flight from Detroit to Charlotte, I sat next to an elderly lady from Pittsburg and we talked about her grandchildren who are looking for jobs and how enjoyable Pennsylvania is to live in. From Charlotte to Frankfurt, I sat next to a physicist who taught me about proton accelerators, how to make thin-film superconductors, and his religious views. In the Frankfurt airport, I was taking a shuttle between terminals and I was alone in the compartment with an American army officer who had spent four years in Germany, and he advised me on the best types of beer to drink while there. I followed his advice, and had a .5 liter of rocksabababsdf;lkjasdf-weizen and a turkey sandwich for breakfast.
Then on the stretch from Frankfurt to Bangalore, I sat a in a row with three young Indian professionals, who talked about differences between European and Indian lifestyles, and also how to best take advantage of one’s sick days. At one point on this trip, one of the three guys asked the attendant for jam to go on his bread, and the attendant said “We aren’t serving jam since it’s dinner time” to which the guy replied “Madam, we Indians eat jam whenever we want to.” Chuckles from all around. Finally, in the cab from the airport to my grandparent’s house, I spoke with the driver about the traffic jams in Banglore that are epically terrible, and how the city is addressing the issue by installing “magic boxes” which are the same as over passes, as far as I can tell. I got to my grandparents house, and after several hugs and a quick call home to confirm my safe arrival, I passed out for the night.
So in one 26 hour period (which is how long it took to get here), I spoke with a good friend, a grandmother, a physicist, an officer, three young professionals, and a cab driver. I wonder about all the other people I would have met if one of my flights had gotten delayed, or if I had a different seat on one of the planes. Travelling is such a strange and surreal experience – I feel that I completely lose touch with time and zone out for hours without noticing what’s going on. It’s a good way to transition between mindsets, because I think I need several hours of just sitting and doing nothing for my mind to really accept that I’m going to a new place. It’s almost as though the best way to approach a change is to think about nothing at all and let your mind get used to a new situation when you’re not paying attention. I wonder what it’ll be like in fifty years when travelling around the world will only take a few hours. I’m not sure if I think that will be a good thing. Sometimes I like to move slowly. Like Jack Johnson sang in that one song “slow down everyone, you’re moving too fast. Frames can’t catch you when you’re moving like that.”
I’ll be in Bangalore for a few days, and I’m looking forward to spending time with my grandmother and eating all the wonderful creations that come out of her kitchen. My plans for my time here have already changed, just as all my family warned me they would; I was hoping to go to Pavagada, the village where I’ll be staying, in two days but right now there is a case of “Chicken Gunaya” in the area. Both my uncle and aunt and have it, but it’s nothing too serious, and after they are healthy I will make my way over.
I already have many thoughts about my first ten hours here that I’d like to share, but I think it’s probably better to split things up so that this isn’t too long.
And here’s the soundtrack for my last-minute scramble around Ann Arbor in preparation for this trip. It came from Dave’s “Best of Motown” tape that was in his beautiful minivan. I owe both Dave and Nate big for all their help in the last week – “a friend in need is a friend indeed.”
“Please Mr. Postman” by The Marvelletes:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-nuEY6fQgzk
-Raj
Posted by avable at 05:14 AM | Comments (0)