What my friends want from India

I now have 16 days until my mom comes! (not that I'm counting) and have starting to sift through what books I will be taking home, what will be donated, etc. Another major component of this process is getting the last gifts, shopping, and requested items to bring back to the US.

And for this, my friends have thoroughly amused me.

The first request was for a Bollywood rendition of Aladdin, which has not been released in the United States. My friend appropriately attached the link to my facebook wall, so that I would be clear.

My conversation with my brother was perhaps more amusing. 

Brother: What's cheap in India and expensive here?

Me: Ummm....I can get bootleg dvds for two bucks....Prescription drugs? 

Brother: I'll think about what I need. Oxy cotin?

Me: Well as a rule I generally don't trust Indian drugs...How about a painted elephant? 

Brother: Exotic animals are good if you can bring any back

One other friend appropriately requested street Mughal art prints. However when I responded that I would likely put more effort into that than oxy cotton or exotic animals, the conversation went as such:

Friend: Actually, go into a pharmacy...take someone who is Hindi/is respectful and ask for 4 patay *leaves*

Me: Which is?

Friend: 4 patthay of oxy...I think it should work. GSK is huge there so they probably have it cheap. Oh Lord, I'm a terrible person.

I love my friends. 

____

After several people have read this I realize the need to make the following notes:

*Oxy cotin is not spelled like the fabric -- something I have now learned

*No, I'm not actually bringing anyone drugs. 

*My brother has added a psychedelic ganesha to his wish list

• • 
    

Looking to the end

Its getting to be about that time that I'm looking towards the end. If I haven't already been, which I have. With three weeks left in school now, and not even three full weeks at that, things are quickly winding down. I'm crossing off work on my to do lists without adding more. I'm making my last travel arrangements for the year in India. And I'm thinking about what it will be like to be home.

There are many things I'm sure I will just bask in: cleanliness, the lack of dust, quiet, and even though its summer in California, cooler temperatures. I'm excited to cook, and run, and hang out with the family. I am particularly excited to see my dog Dizzy's reaction to seeing me, his excitement last time I came home was displayed by running throughout the house howling and lunging at me to get me to play.

I am also looking forward to wearing different clothes. I've never gone through any sort of rebellious phase, I went to a boarding school I loved and which was pretty liberal, so I've had dreads and run around the woods late at night, but as opposed to most places this wasn't considered anything out of the norm. And if I was to get caught doing anything too bad, I jeopardized my second home, which was out of the question. Rather different than a lot of the people I've known at my Catholic college who grow up in strict environments and go crazy at their first draught of freedom. But I may do just that. India has been my strict environment, in a lot of ways, including behavior and speech, but particularly in regards to clothes. I am very much looking forward to embracing my Californian culture and hanging out in my swim suit in public and not attracting sleazy looks.

I'm also anticipating every single person asking me, 'How was India?!" I really don't know if I'll ever be able to answer that question. The best I can come up with I found in a book "Holy Cow!" by Sarah Macdonald, where she writes:

"I'm beginning to think it's pointless to try [to figure out India]. India is beyond statement, for anything you say, the opposite is also true. It's rich and poor, spiritual and material, cruel and kind, angry but peaceful, ugly and beautiful, smart but stupid. Its all the extremes. India defies understanding..."

Before traveling to India, I had all the ideas about how it would be interesting to observe a rising superpower, etc...now I am simply confounded as to how the country still exists, let alone is a powerful actor in the international system. And I'm sure that idea too will change.

Western clothing

Its getting hotter, and I've basically stopped wearing jeans. Instead I'm more often in a salwar and kurta, which has some other name I'd type wrong. Basically, baggy drawstring pants and a loose cotton dress with slits from hip to knee on the side. Despite being long sleeve, the looseness does a fine job of keeping you relatively cool, though I still would argue that shorts and a tank top would be more appropriate.

This outfit, or a sari, is classically Indian. In India, there are essentially two styles of dress, Indian or western. Indian comprises these two styles of outfits. Western comprises anything else.

When I say western, I emphasize that it means 'not Indian,' it does not mean, 'someone in the West would wear this.' Puffy ruffled sleeves have been all the hype this year, as have shirts that look vaguely similar to my pink and geometric minnie mouse bathing suit I wore when I was five. Only these shirts often have big plastic buttons that connect nothing as decoration. While some girls seem perfectly at ease with and capable of creating perfectly acceptable American youth outfits, some just seem unable to let go of ruffled dresses and clashing patterns that even I wouldn't put together (and ask my mom, matching is not my strong suit).

In addition, and can bring me great amusement some days, is that one-colored outfits are entirely acceptable. All white, yellow, orange, red, well, I've probably seen them all. I bought a red kurta and was looking for a pair of churridars (drawstring skinny pants that crumple at the ankles) to go with them, and the lady insisted I buy red to match, arguing against any beige or brown. I tried, but I just can't wear that much of one color, and went back for brown.

In other news, despite my evaporation of motivation to do any work whatsoever, I need to write about forty pages in the next week (no big deal), because all my work is due by about the fifth. Another nearing deadline which marks for me, not the amount of work I have to do, but the nearness of the end of this semester, the coming of my mother, and going home. 

eating

Most of my lunches and dinners consist of three basic components:
Daal - some kind of soupy bean dish
Sabzi - vegetables of various kinds
Rice/Chapati - Rice=duh; Chapati=a kind of flatbread, may be different depending on the daal or daal-like dish

People eat all sorts of different ways. Some only eat with Chapati, some only with rice, and some both.

Some people eat their daal like soup.
Some people mix rice and daal and make soup.
Some people eat daal with chapati.
Some people pour daal over rice and eat it with a fork, spoon, or with their hands.
Some people mix sabzi with their rice and daal.
Some people eat their sabzi separately with the chapati.
Some people eat everything all together.
Some people eat one thing, get up for another, get up for another.

So I try to ask rules for manners, and most commonly I get: there aren't any. But thats not really true, its just that nobody will tell me. The best I've gotten, is that when you eat with your hands (which is exceptionally fun coming from a society that has told me my whole life not to), try not to get your pinky finger too dirty.

Yea, thats the best I've got. But Mom, when you make chicken and rice and spinach and gravy - Don't be surprised to see me start eating with my hands. Its way too much fun not to. 

Autowalas

I've taken an auto-rickshaw nearly every day that I've been in India. I generally enjoy the time. But I've had a variety of experiences. I thoroughly enjoy getting away for a few hours, zooming along in the little tuk-tuk around Delhi. I have never gotten used to homeless people begging at notoriously long stoplights, occasionally refusing to leave my side and pulling on my clothes.

As for the drivers, I've also had a range of experiences. I've had a few try to charge me 200 for a 50 rupee ride, or get lost and want me to pay for it, or tell me they don't have change and I'll just have to pay twice as much. However, despite once or twice having to call a hindi-speaking friend and hand over the phone, I've never once not gotten to where I was going.

I've also had some incredibly nice rickshaw drivers. Some are just brimming with happiness, and to keep that all day when all they do is drive around Delhi - thats impressive. I've had some very sweet, some tell the beggars I'm not going to buy things from them, one even charged me less after getting to where I was going. In addition, sometimes I find drivers keen to practice their english. Most are curious as to where I'm from, how long I've been in India, and if I speak hindi. My favorite questions however have been, "Would you have a love-marriage or an arranged marriage?" and "Are you a Christian?" 

Pictures from Dharamsala - the pretty ones

Big prayer wheels outside the temple 

Hailstorm for fifteen minutes

Dogs and cows chillin' at the dumpster

Solidarity protest

Solidarity protest

Walking to Bagsu

Walking to Bagsu

Painting outside the library of works and archives

Snow lion outside the temple where the state oracle lives

mountains in the distance

Pictures from Dharamsala - of the political persuasion

In the temple complex, the child's whereabouts are unknown, making him the youngest political prisoner

The national martyrs' monument, which is the first thing seen when entering the temple complex

A picture from the museum of tibetan children in communist uniform

sculpture in the museum 

solidarity march for self-immolations

the parliament in exile, not so grand

salvaged ancient texts are housed here

More of the secretariat in exile 

Ministry of foreign affairs, shares its office with another ministry upstairs

signs put up all over town

Bo sha lan?

Bo sha lan? Bo sha lan? I was walking with the two women I met in Dharamsala to drop one off at the bus station. We were laden with bags and walking a bit past the auto rickshaw stand on Holi. But it was Dharamsala, so as everyone was Buddhist, there wasn't much paint throwing about.

Bo sha lan? Five or so men were asking. My friend who is exceptionally nice tried to figure out what they were saying, to no avail, their accent was too thick. I assumed they were selling something and, a result of seven months in Delhi, said 'no' without looking and kept walking, my gaze strait. Finally as it was repeated over and over I finally got it: One night stand? Pleeease pleeaase one night stand with me? My friend laughed imagining if one of us just said, 'sure, okay.'

My friend who was leaving traveled in India all last year, and has said that it is normal in a lot of areas that there is no sex before marriage, so the men watch porn, and then assume western women to be down for that. I'm not entirely sure how they maintain this assumption when (I'm guessing) no woman ever reciprocates their pleas for one night stands. To me this is kind of like watching sci fi and then expecting cars to be able to fly. And if I were to make assumptions from the bollywood movie I saw on the bus up to Dharamsala, I'd have to imagine all Indian women to be high maintenance gold diggers. I find it very odd. 

The Dalai Lama

Yesterday and today I got to see the Dalai Lama. Yesterday, my friends and I woke up at four forty-five and carried our blankets down the steep stairs near our hotel that lead to the temple complex. We were searched, quite thoroughly (we had to leave our cameras and phones at the hotel), before being admitted into the temple area. The first time I saw him, it was at a prayer for his long life. All the Tibetans were in their traditional finest, which was great to see.

Today, we allowed ourselves to sleep in a bit until five fifteen, before making our way to a talk he was giving. We all had little pocket radios with the translation of his talk, and the translator would often laugh at the jokes before translating them or get distracted, one time admitting he had missed it and had to get it from a fellow translator). The talk was a basic introduction to Buddhism, though with the translation and the uncomfortable squished sitting on the cement ground often went over my head. It was still pretty cool.

We made our way downhill to the secretariat of the government in exile, a collection of standard Indian style (questionable maintenance but habitable and nicely painted signs) and to the library where the salvaged ancient texts were stored and studied. I was happy to finally indulge in my aspiration to learn tibetan by picking up textbooks and audio cds.

Walking around in a Tibetan community, specifically so close to the government in exile, truly uncovers the futility of ideas of coercive assimilation. Whatever the situation in Tibet, Tibetans continue to practice their language, culture, and tradition with increased fervor. Walking into the temple complex the first thing to see is a huge monument to Tibetan martyrs. There are solidarity marches and solidarity hunger protests for the victims of Chinese shootings and self-immolators. Patriotism, at least as I view it, is reactionary and powerful, even among youths born in exile, though who interact daily with those who have made the life-risking journey into India.

I have one more day before I return to the heat, the homework, and the short amount of time that await me in Delhi until my mom comes and I finish school. Moods come and go, but right now I'm just getting tired and am ready to go home. The overwhelming longing for a washing machine has worn off. I've bought everything I want to give people, and everything I want for myself. And now its getting close to that time. But I'm sure to find more things to do, more things to see, and experience, before my time is up.

Me and the girls I've been hanging out with

Some patriotic fliers on the street corner

Dharamsala - incredible day

So I don't really know where to start for this day. The plan, filled with typical tourist kind of things (seeing some tibetan medicine, tibetan astrology) went out the window pretty early in the morning. Even the visit to the Tibetan Children's Village in Dharamsala (in which I felt very uncomfortable because first of all, its like going into someone's house and taking pictures, or in this case, a high school that isn't your own, and secondly because I think one girl I live with in the college hostel lives here otherwise), wasn't open for volunteering.

So my friends and I went to go speak with some political refugees who are learning english. I talked with a twenty-something farmer from the province of Kham, who participated in the 2008 uprisings, and as a result was shot in the back (the bullet went into his stomach) and in the arm, which shattered his elbow and he now wears a sling. After the protest, he escaped to Nepal, by way of tractor trailers and hiking in the mountains for one year, one month, and twenty-seven days, before reaching Nepal and paying a bribe to get papers to travel to Dharamsala. He's not able to work, due to his arm, and he only spoke Tibetan before coming to Dharamsala, so he is on a little scholarship program to learn English and Chinese. In 2010 he went to Taiwan to talk about Tibet. He wants to teach people about Tibet and tell his story, and hopes for a day he can go back home.

Before the official class time was finished, one Tibetan student stood up and made an announcement, followed by an english version announced with difficulty and to the general amusement of his classmates (whose english was no better, but who all found it riotously funny). Yesterday, a woman self-immolated in his town, and there was a solidarity march organized by the local nuns, and we were all invited to come. The protest, which was filled with flags and candles and singing, done I believe both for publicity and also social solidarity, was an amazing thing to see. It looped the main center of town twice before heading down to the main temple area and ending at the Tibetan National Martyrs' Memorial (interesting to note thats one of the first things you see when you step into the temple/museum/dalai lama's residence grounds).

I have some videos I will try to put up when the internet is better - here is one picture for now

Would you move to India? Would you move to the US?

I've recently had a few conversations with friends about living in the US and India. Despite having grown up in India all their lives, they still see the ridiculousness of the bureaucracy, silly rules, being so late, and all those other things that make living in India just the slightest bit, or sometimes greatly, more difficult than living in the US. But a lot of my friends don't think they'd ever want to live in the US, which they view as being clean, efficient, regular, and boring.

One friend of mine explained that she doesn't know what would make her life interesting if she didn't have someone cut her off driving to work and yell some hindi expletive at him. Another explained that life isn't uniform, regular, or easy, and that India reflects those aspects of life that living in the US hides.

Maybe I'm just too desirous of peace and quiet, but I don't think I'd like to live in India, which is exciting and filled with wonderful people, but perhaps a bit too much for an entire lifetime. 

Setting off to Dharamsala!

My life feels like a countdown; I got really excited when I realized today that its March. But thats partly because my birthday is in March, which makes it a generally exciting month.

Its also exciting because on Saturday I'm spending all night on a bus going to Dharamsala. Planning on seeing the Dalai Lama speak and poking around the Tibetan Government in Exile if I don't feel too awkward. Oh, and did I mention money spent at Tibetan craft centers goes to the refugees? Thats an incentive to buy tibetan handicrafts if I've heard one.

My friends, realizing I'm leaving so soon, are giving me lists of places to do and visit. Really when I get back from this vacation I have less than two months in India, and I'm really happy I've gotten to go to all the places that I have. There are always more places to see in India, but I'm content with the amount of traveling I've done, food I've eaten, things I've bought. The rest is a few check-offs, treats saved for the end, souvenirs, and extra niceties. While I'm eager to get back home to the dogs and family (I've gotten made fun of for putting it in that order, but who can blame me?) I think I'll mostly miss the people, Indians and ex-pats, and wish I had more time with them.

But anyways, pictures to come from Dharamsala! (and hopefully the Holi celebration too :)