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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 July 4, 2009 11:55 PM