Echoes of the Old India . . . and new technology

The day after I was writing about Indian Independence Day and how fab the New India is, everyone in the country was limited to sending 5 texts per day.  The government restricted bulk text messaging for national security purposes.

Up in Assam, there is strife.  The reports and urgency from recent conflicts quickly spread to the many Northeastern Indians who live throughout the country.  Terms like “mass exodus,” “panic,” and “hysteria” have been used to describe the ensuing events. 

I first heard about the news from my Assamese colleague who was fiercely reading news online the Friday before the text restrictions.  He assured me that the threats being spread about certain ethnic groups being targeted throughout the country were rumors, but he seemed concerned still.  His parents were urging him to return home for his safety.

Assamese were flocking back to their home state in response to the threats that were spread via texts and social media. In Hyderabad, it was quiet.  I didn’t feel unsafe.  I had to seek out (through an inquiry to other H’bad fellows via facebook) why my phone wasn’t working properly.  Only the disruption of communication echoed the dreadfulness of what Assam saw.

The reality is that conflict remains.  Clashes of ethnic hostilities, land ownership, immigration – of power – led to tragedy. 

The information, along with false information, reached the nation rapidly and people reacted swiftly.  And the government responded in the name of security. 

The enduring influences and tensions of the past mingle with new technology and ways of life.  It creates a complex and unsettling present.  Interestingly, the news focused on the text messaging rather than the ultra complex conflict situation… 

We now have the freedom of as many texts as we want again.  I haven’t read anything more about events in Assam.

P.S. America, with three tragically violent and highly publicized episodes involving gun slaughter since I left, we’re not looking so simple or settled ourselves. 

Come on world, get it together.

P.P.S. Sugarland can cover any song and I will love it.  (Sorry music enthusiasts.)

While the power was out

Maybe you heard about the massive power outage that happened in the northern part of India last month.  There’s been a lot said about it.  It was unexpected.

I’ve alluded to the rolling power outages here in Hyderabad.  These are predictable, mostly – there are a number of extended and unplanned power outages as well.  But it is expected that every part of Hyderabad loses power for at least three hours a day – this is regulated. 

It’s a complicated topic – one that makes you ask a lot of questions and leaves you without a lot of tangible answers.  The only answers that come to mind include a need for large-scale changes to take place, and that is an overwhelming feeling.  Overwhelming feelings send me into philosophical musings about humans and the earth and . . . I’ll stop.

No, let’s talk practically.  We rely on electricity –our West Marredpally fellows are sometimes even left without water during these outages, if the water needs to be pumped. Three hours per day per neighborhood can easily translate into five or six hours per day per person, if said person happens to work or shop or eat in a neighborhood that is not their home. 

What does one do without light and fans and (eek!) the internet for that long during the day?  Luckily I have a list for you if you ever find yourself in that situation.

15 things to do when the power goes out at least 3 hours per day:

(Ok before you start any of this, open a couple of doors or windows to let some air in – that is important.)

 

1. Continue working and pretend like nothing has changed
2. Doodle (because there is no work to do that doesn’t require electricity)
3. Make a to-do list
4. Jot down blog ideas
5. Yoga (hot, sweat-dripping, kind of disgusting yoga)
6. Have lunch
7. Read
8. Dance party
9. Drink tea (lots and lots of tea)
10. Do laundry in a bucket
11. Write
12. Cut your fingernails (or something equally as mundane but necessary)
13. Go to sleep earlier than you planned
14. -Or- Nap (my favorite)
15. Sit and stare into space (sometimes also a favorite)

It’s kinda too bad we’re not teenagers hanging out in a bowling alley though…

I certainly hope I am not the only one who remembers and appreciates this video for everything that it is.  

Social change, etc.

This is a metaphor.

You might (maybe) be wondering to yourself, “What are you doing in India?” I wonder the same thing sometimes. I've postponed this blog post while I've been figuring it out.  I'm not sure that I have it down yet, but people ask me this question.  And I am subject to your inquiries.

Here’s an attempt to answer you -

The Technical: I’m an IDEX fellow.  IDEX is an initiative of Gray Matters Capital that works to grow social enterprise and leadership to create positive, enduring social change.  IDEX works mostly in the education sector in India. 

There are fellows placed in schools, nonprofits, and for-profit social enterprises in Hyderabad, Bangalore, and Mumbai.  We are placed with these organizations as a commodity (the skills and experiences we bring that motivated organizations to accept a fellow) and as a recipient (the skills-building and new, hands-on experience that motivated us to accept the fellowship). 

This is what I do.

I am placed with an organization called Policy Innovations.  Policy Innovations conducts program evaluation for schools and organizations working in the education sphere across India.  (In other words, they use all that stuff we learned in Poister’s Applied Statistics and Research Methods class that we thought we’d never use.)

My bosses + a boss' mom

The Practical: (Welcome to my resume.) On a daily basis, I complete tasks such as report writing, client correspondence, website development, marketing/partnership building, and strategic planning.  I sometimes work at home.  I sometimes work at the office.  I have meetings in person, over Skype, over the phone.  I talk. I think.  I write.  I might (I hope) get the chance to travel for assessments. We’re framing it under the term business development.

The Experience: These are the moments, the people, the places, the newness, the challenges, the things learned. This is why I’m really here.  This is the stuff I write about on this blog.  This is how I will grow.  This is why it’s all worth it.  This is what will lead me to whatever the next step of my life is whenever this stint is over.  This is life.

When I started this journey, there were several things – a facebook status, a text message from a dear friend, a book, an article – that reiterated a message that I try (try, try, try) to embrace: Wherever you are, BE all there.  Exist, delve, immerse, embrace wherever it is you happen to be.  And let it be what it is, too.

This is what I am trying to do in India.  I like to imagine that what I am doing matters.  It matters to me, but I hope it matters to at least one or two other people as well.

It sometimes feels like I'm doing this:

Yes, I did take this picture from my office.  Yes, that guy is painting a building by hand while being held from a rope by one and a half men.  (Notice the one guy looking into space.)  Yes, I really do feel like that sometimes.

Mom Jeans, Indian-style

One of the best parts of living in India is that dressing for comfort is practically mandated.  This means leggings are an almost daily part of my wardrobe.

The funniest part of the Indian wardrobe, and the leggings in particular, is that they are draw-stringed and tie far above the belly button – you know, like Mom Jeans.  (Please see the fashion show below.)

(Ok, those last few were taken in a dressing room.  I did not purchase the jean dress with the zipper that zips awkwardly askew nor the jeggings with the elastic waist band - although I was unbelievably tempted to do so.  I did purchase jeggings with a button and zipper in this outing though - don't worry.)

Actually, don't look too closely at these pictures - awkward! Oh the things I will do for this blog..

You should also know that my roommates call me Mom.

Maybe it’s because I encourage them not to pet - and certainly not to bring home! - the adorable little street dogs.. even though I would love to do so myself.  (Don’t tell the kids.) I’ve been heard saying things like, “Dogs are not just cute, fun animals that make you smile.  They are also a lot of hard work.”  (Verbatim.)

Or maybe it’s because when we are riding 4 in a rickshaw, I hold onto the person sitting on the railing as if she were my own child who might fall out of the vehicle.  Or maybe it’s because Kamrin taught me how to use technology the other night.  Or maybe it’s because I make sure we are all doing things like bringing a scarf to cover ourselves as necessary.  Or maybe it’s because I leave them notes like this:

Somebody has to do it.

So they call me Mom.  Whatever, I like it.  And I have the pants to make it work.

http://www.nbc.com/saturday-night-live/video/mom-jeans/229048

Bollywood and Patriotism

 

Wednesday was Indian Independence Day.  What was it like, you ask?   It was a little bit of Bollywood, a little bit of patriotism, and a little bit awesome.

I visited the school where my roommate works for the day’s festivities.  As far as I can tell, most Indians don’t celebrate Independence Day as grandly as their children do. From the parade to the flag raising to the children’s program, it was an event.

Being “honored guests” was uncomfortable.  Being called onto a stage in front of children and parents that you have never seen before (and probably won’t see much of again) was a little awkward.  Being asked to say a few words to the crowd about how you’ve found India thus far was kinda silly.

  

But the kids were adorable.  The colors were vibrant.  The outfits were varied and outstanding.

 

 
The school leader informed us that the rally around the neighborhood (that lasted a solid 2 hours) was to “raise awareness of social problems.” The kids held signs that the teachers made drawing attention to things like the environment, girls’ education, and sanitation.  The people in the neighborhood were very interested in the drums and the many, many children joyfully chanting patriotic cheers and parading around town.  Whether awareness was raised . . .

During the flag raising ceremony, the school leader insisted that we stand around the flag pole and take part in the prayers.  (Why having Westerners raise the Indian flag on Independence Day is a special event, I don’t understand.  But he really insisted.)

  

Then the kids paraded in their outfits and danced and did yoga on a stage.  They danced traditional dances and modern dances.  These kids are so talented! I want to take dance lessons from these children.  (I’m only half kidding.)

On another note, the kids in the audience were meant to be sitting and watching quietly throughout the 3 hour long program.  (I wasn’t even able to do that.) Teachers were constantly telling/physically making them sit.

“You see how our children sit so still and quiet,” the principle announced to us proudly.

In truth they were very welcoming – constant handshaking and greetings.  They were very inquisitive and curious.  They were very happy and joyful and filled-with-youth.

Indians are proud to be Indian.  Proud of their heritage.  Proud of their present.  There was a very clear atmosphere of freedom and country pride. As there should be.

There was a very real sense of tradition, and of the modern.  Bollywood and patriotism - welcome to the "New India." It's fab.

Call to prayer

The power went out late last night, so before going to sleep I left my window open for some airflow.  The open window let in the pre-dawn sounds and I awoke this morning to the call to prayer.  The first week or two I woke to this sound every morning, before my ears adjusted to all the noises that resound outside our walls. 

With the call to prayer this morning I was reminded, in my mid-dream-state, of Mom’s request prior to my departure: ‘Pray every morning.  I want your angels surrounding you.’  I thought of my angels.  I thought of all the reasons, all the influences that led me here. 

Perhaps these beckons to prayer come from different places and mean different things, but the idea that we need something more than ourselves remains similar.  Be it a deity, a network of support, a guiding principle, a raison d’etre – something more than ourselves drives us. And sometimes we have to go looking for it, asking for it, praying for it. (Perhaps driving past The Buddha in the Lake every day or so is having a zen-ish effect.)

Don’t worry Mom, my angels are with me. 

But I do miss this little angel in particular: 

KM on U.S. Independence Day.

(Rae, Skype this weekend?)

 

But these little ones celebrating Indian Independence day were awfully cute:

Maybe more on Independence Day later.

Questions that need answers

On a daily basis, I find myself asking questions that I can't find good answers to.  Here's a sample.

Am I really that interesting?

“Yeah, I really don’t get it, you’re not that interesting,” my dear, lovely, half-Indian-half-Italian-so-she-fits-in-a-little-better roommate responded in Week 1 when I asked if it was actually necessary to turn completely around on a scooter to look back at my freckle-spotted skin. 

Dude, you’re going to wreck your bike.  And Yasmin’s right, I’m not that interesting.  I’m covered from neck to ankle.  But apparently my pale feet and arms and face paired with the undeniable fact that I am a woman are enough for people to need to catch a glimpse.

What does this head bobble thing mean?

It’s not a shake or a nod.  It’s a loosing of the neck that allows the head to move in an indescribable direction.  It’s difficult to emulate on purpose, although I find myself doing it subconsciously (probably not in the right context) from time to time. It can be infuriating when you want a clear answer and don’t understand the language that is being used.  It’s indiscriminately prevalent – men, women, children of all socioeconomic backgrounds utilize this ever-vague gesture – and none of them can quite explain what it means.  

 

Why don’t people use sidewalks? (This one has an answer.)

Everyone walks in the streets with the cars and buses and autos and bikes.  And you should too, if you come.  Despite what the security guy from the U.S. Consulate tells you, there are good reasons for this.

First off, there’s not always a sidewalk.  Even when they do exist, it’s more difficult to cross the road from these raised and crumbling pavements.  I’ve nearly fallen on my face on more than one occasion using the sidewalks.  You should get to know the traffic.  Learn to trust that people aren’t going to hit you.  This is an important lesson to learn if you ever want to get anywhere (in life?) – just put up your hand, gather up your courage, and go.

But most importantly, the reason people don’t walk on the sidewalks is because they are soaked in man-urine.  Men hop off their scooters/autos/veer-from-their-walk and hop onto the sidewalks at any moment that nature calls.  They do their business and continue on their way. 

Two additional questions emerge from this practice:

Why is open urination not condemned as a public health nightmare? (The streets smell, these men are clearly not washing their hands, and walking through pools of urine cannot be healthy.)

And. Why is it acceptable for men to unzip their pants in public when women are considered loose, sleazy, etc. for showing their shoulders?

If I were Twitter-user (a tweeter???), I might say something like <#publictoiletprojects #WomensEmpowerment> here.  But I’m not totally sure how a pound symbol/number sign has become a hashtag.  And I definitely don’t know what a hashhtag means or how it is applicable to Twitter, really.  Would it be accurate to say #Twitterilliterate here?

These are the questions that need answers.  I’m sure there are more to come.

The way of the rickshaw

Google maps, I really don't appreciate your sarcasm

I tried walking to work this morning, following the Google maps directions…

Lost and without road names, I relented and got an autorickshaw to take me from the very residential (quite quaint, actually) alleyways where I ended up over to my office, which was 7 minutes away by auto.  It was a semi-fail.

I still got to work early (of course) and I now know the way home.

India life lesson: The way the crow flies (or the Google maps way) may be the most direct path, but the way the auto drives is the best route.

Also, I saw monkeys for the first time in the city this morning.  They were just walking around on shop stall roofs.  The shop owners looked at me kind of funny for stopping and staring, but at this point I’m accustomed to being looked at funny.

Also also, I spoke with Mom and Dad on Sunday via Skype.  Do you remember this loveable, kooky couple trying to work a webcam?  There were flashes of similar moments during that call. (♥ ♥ Love you Mom and Dad!)

A new normal

On Monday, I put on makeup – like eye shadow and lipstick even.  This was a futile exercise.  It probably melted completely off by midday.  But that’s not the point.  The point is, I woke up, put on real clothes, applied makeup, and did some work.  Later in the evening, I went to a house party in Banjara Hills with the other fellows.  It was a normal day.

This is my life.  I needed to start getting into a daily routine that includes things like putting on makeup and making coffee.  Even if the makeup will slide off and the coffee is instant. 

I stepped out on the balcony after putting water on for coffee.  I finally began to see the beauty of our city – beyond the lake and temples and statues.  There was a man in his mid-forties with a pot belly who was walking laps on his rooftop a few buildings over.  I noticed the many pastels of the buildings, draped with laundry flowing in the breeze.  These ever present clouds don’t seem to block the sun too much and give a coolness to the air.  The cars on the highway were less menacing than they were the day before. 

Perhaps my perspective shifted.

This isn’t just an adventure.  Ok, it is completely an adventure, but only insomuch as life itself is an adventure.  I need to start treating it that way. 

There are new things; there are challenges; there are disappointments.  This is life.  And I put on makeup on Monday to remind myself of that.  The rest of the week was not necessarily as successful as this moment, but it’s a start.  

(And I did yoga for the first time this week too!)

P.S. I do miss real, brewed-from-grounds coffee terribly.  Sigh.