16 things I will miss about India

16 days until Home.

Green oranges from the street vendors

I will certainly miss all of the food, the friends that have been my family and support system this year, and finding simple victories in a world where nothing makes sense. 

I am sure I will also miss things that I can’t fathom missing at this moment (like the noise and all those things that don’t make sense), but for now here are the other things I know I will miss about India:

Animals everywhere

1. Old ladies talking to me endlessly, regardless of the fact that I don’t speak Telegu
2. Veg Manchurian.. this is a supreme guilty pleasure
3. The smell of frying peppers
4. “Excusememadamfromwhichcountry?” – all one word from street strangers
5. “Hello, sista! How are you?” - from the girls in the neighborhood
6. Children laughing uncontrollably if I smile at them
7. Monkeys - *jazz hands* - (and pigs and goats and cows and buffalo)
8. Being blissfully surprised when the street stall has masala chai
9. MANGOS
10. Colors and celebrations, constant
11. Buying veggies from Naveen
12. Buying fruit on the roadside (now that I know what things cost!)
13. Finger bowls (they are like a little post-dinner hand spa – but in India they are never this fancy.  Who snobbed up the finger bowl?)
14. Limca – I don’t always drink soda, but when I do I prefer Limca.
15. Ridiculous English mistakes
16. And yes, maybe even Kingfisher.. (maybe not.)

My favorite English mistake

Also, 5 things I KNOW I will never miss:

1. The garbage
2. The pigeons
3. The men gawking
4. Being required to cover my legs
5. The vast inequalities
   
   

   

   Home Sweet Home

   

   Celebrations

Nobody puts Baby in a corner

When I was 16, I always showed up to Brit Lit class early and found a seat in the back, against the wall – the better not to have to answer questions about Beowulf and Jane Austen aloud and risk Ms. Buchanan’s critical response in front of my classmates.  One day, Ms. Buchanan called to me as I was sitting down, saying: “Today you are sitting in the front row.  You are going to say something.  Nobody puts Baby in a corner.” 

I was too mortified to appreciate how awesome it was for your high school English teacher to quote Dirty Dancing to you.  I also didn’t understand that this statement was Ms. Buchanan’s way of saying she believed in me and that I should be more confident in the things that I had to say. I’ve since recognized this, but often still struggled to come out of that corner. 

Through this India journey (over 10 years later), I found something unusual.  I found that I refuse to pay too much for an auto.  I found that I walk in front of buses, expecting them to stop or swerve around me. I found that I convince my bosses that my strategies and projects are going to be beneficial (and know that if they don’t believe me, then it’s their loss).  I found that I can say no.  I found that I say what I’m thinking to any number of people.

I found my voice in India. 

In a nation where I cover myself from the stares and jeers and harassment of men, where women struggle to be included, where gender equality is a booming noise in the air that so many people ignore (as if it were just another car horn, bell ringing, person shuffling), India seems a strange place for a fair-skinned (chocoholic) introvert to find her voice.

But you know what?  I bet it’s not that uncommon for a lady-expat to find what she’s been searching for here.  India kind of forces you to examine yourself, be aware of yourself, and make a decision one way or the other. 

In a place where men stop and stare with piercing eyes as you pass them, where children follow you down the road laughing and calling after you, where you stand out so contrastingly, you learn to be aware of your physical self.  In a place where you are told what to wear, how to behave, how to react when you are groped in a public place (and that you will be), that police stations are not a safe place to go alone as a woman; in a place like that, you learn to stand up for yourself.  In a place where hectic is the norm, where lines are nonexistent, where bargaining is essential, you learn to fight for what you want.

Do you want to get to the other side of the road?  Then you must take that step into oncoming traffic.  Do you want to taste amazing food?  Then you must dig in with your right hand and take that first bite.  Do you want to see something breathtaking?  Then you must hop onto that overnight train and trek that trail. 

You must.

So I braved all the traffic that exists in my head and spoke my mind anyway.  I dug into myself and made the desires of my heart known.  I took that trail and what I found was pretty breathtaking.  It was kind of beautiful.

On my last day in Hyderabad, I scolded the Xerox man for charging me double the price and kicked a stool as I stomped out of his shop.

I found my voice in India.  And it’s kind of thunderous.  Who would have guessed?

Baby’s come out of the corner.  And you know what? I’m ready to do that lift now.

(Anybody want to go dancing?)

What India taught me about friendship.

The friends you keep are the ones you grow up with:

from childhood to adolescence.

from college to graduation.

from bright-eyed to reality.

from who you were to who you will become.

There’s an understanding and camaraderie that binds – and insight into who someone is in knowing how (in what ways and because of what situations) a person changes.  It’s an intimacy that can’t be known by knowing a static character.

And if India does nothing else to a person, it makes her less static.

 

Surreality

I will be returning to the U.S.A. in exactly one month.

This is exactly what that feels like.. simultaneously:

smashinghub.com

forum.xcitefun.net

www.photoshopcreative.co.uk

smashinghub.com

www.theddi.com

pickatheme.com

Just some monkey snaps

Some adorable monkeys for your Sunday:

These guys were hanging around the colony (yes, that is what apartment complexes are called here) last week.  I hadn't seen any monkeys in approximately 30 days. 

I was a little excited. 

Jazz hands were involved.

Ok, some dinner and back to work!

PSA to the world

Dear Citizens of the World, 

People don’t like being stared at. It’s rude.

Love,

All the people who appear to be different than you.

All across America parents can be found tugging at little arms and whispering firmly, “Don’t stare.”  Children of a certain age and temperament are likely to respond loudly and innocently, “But WHY?” 

Maybe a great many of these parents will try to find a way to explain that just because people appear to be different than you and maybe this will be intriguing or curious, that while every individual is special and unique, in the end people are all mostly the same.  

Maybe they will try to explain that though people have different backgrounds, different needs, or different kinds of clothes, they are still people who are doing their very best to live their lives day by day.  And that their living their lives is not a spectacle, but that in fact we should find ways to be supportive of each other in living our lives and that humanity is about helping one another to do the best that we can.  

Maybe parents will struggle to find ways to explain this idea to their little ones.  

Or maybe they will just explain that staring is rude.  That it’s not nice.  That it’s socially unacceptable.

And you know what, that’s ok. Because being stared at is not fun. It’s isolating. Unwanted attention is embarrassing at the least and hurtful at the most.  

(And human resources professionals can be found across America trying to explain that to all the Michael Scotts of the world… But that’s another topic altogether.)

Anyway, point is, I don’t agree that staring is a cultural construct that I should accept when I’m in a place where I am very different.  It makes people feel uncomfortable. It highlights people’s differences.  It’s not nice.  It is rude.

The end.