Chakram-centered Orange, Green and White

It's hard to stop thinking of India as a living, breathing sari-clad grandmother whose lap I've fallen into. Occasionally, it worries me that my thoughts of her are so often western--an outsider's thoughts. My sight, smell, touch are all Amrikan and when I speak, well...no one really believes me when I tell them I'm from Bombay.

But India has no patience for such neuroticisms. I can almost hear her. "Arre, vat is this buckwas? West, east. Who the hell cares?" She doesn't really have time for my patriotic confusion. She has too many people pulling on her palloo.

If I am here to find myself, she'll make sure and hide my soul inside my shoes--the last place I'd look. If I have come for mystical enlightenment, she'll mock me with her Barista coffeshops, swanky restaurants and pubs at every corner. If I say I've come to help, she'll laugh and tell me, "okay go ahead, little girl. Show me something I haven't seen before."

She loves to argue, to make sure you don't hold any too-firm opinions of her. If she senses your satisfaction at India's growth and economic vigor, she'll push one of her kids to your autorickshaw and strap a baby to his bare back--his lips cracked and bruised from thirst and need. If she sees you feeling sorry for her homeless, her hungry--she'll rush them off into one of her wonderful restaurants, and make you forget you ever saw them.

She loves to dance. And if you could add some red and make it shine, she will ask--why would you not?

Work is going well, if somewhat both slower and chaotic-er than I am used to. I don't plan to go into specifics about my NGO on here. It feels weird to discuss work in such a public space. So if you wanna know more, you are gonna have to email me:)


I tried to do pictures today. That is, Kodakize the bulk of them. But it took forever, and by forever I mean 30 minutes and still uploading...

Sooo, I'm just gonna do one picture at a time whenever, whatever.

These were taken about two weeks ago during Orientation in Delhi. It's a village we visited in Western Uttar Pradesh, during one of our site visits to an NGO who was helping these guys faciliate a school--with an emphasis on girls' education. It was really fun. The preview feature of our digital cameras was a super-smash hit.

These are some of my favorites.

one of many wtf moments...

...I have many. But this one deserves sharing. Also it's short. It happened yesterday.

I was in the coffeeshop down the street--one of those chains, Coffee Cafe Dry or something. You know the one? With their bright red, Coca-cola table shades, and fabulous 80s/early 90s American music blasting. Red and blue uniformed workers serving lattes to young people and expats who are chatting it up on their shiny mobiles. So anyway, I went in not for coffee--but for their oily, veggie samosas. And as I've done a thousand times, I ask for some tamarind sauce. It was at this moment that all 5 Coffee Cafe employees turned to me with these identical expressions of confusion. "Tamarind?," one queried as if I was asking for some cocoa-drizzled pakoras. "What is that?," another asked me. Mind you, not "We don't have any." or "We don't carry tamarind." But "We don't know what you are asking."

What the fuck?

I said, "What do you mean what do I mean? You know what tamarind sauce is? With the samosa? Tamarind?" They all wobble-headed at me.

So my question to you, my fickle readers, am I alone here in thinking this is way weird? Maybe it's not called tamarind sauce? Maybe I should have said chutney? But I don't like green chutney. I like the tangy sweetness of tamarind only. *Sigh*

I've been reading Gautam Malkani's Londonstani--a book I am loving. It's hugely fun to read language that cackles with perfect desified, gangsta speak--almost surreal in how well it works. I'm about two-thirds into the book, and yes--there's an annoying tendency to blame all stubborn irrationality in the name of tradition on our Indian mothers, aunties, and sisters. But I forgive the book's steeply masculine take on things--it's too much fun to read. Under normal circumstances, I would attempt a book review. But I totally don't want to. Instead, here's a link to Jabberwock's excellent review.

So anyway, my long-winded reason for bringing up Londastani, was so I could explain why I've been standing around street corners thinking, "goddam, poncey khota," everytime some fool pretends I am not standing in front of him, and walks right into me. Bhanchod phendu asking for a thapparh.

Shopper's High

The weather in Bangalore is glorious right now. There's a wonderful market about 15 minutes walk from my house.

All the tourist books/websites always include the phrase, "hum of excitement" when talking about India. As a desi-reader, you invariably shake your head and mutter, "vat yaar, vat hum? there is no humming here." But I am telling you, there is! There is! Everytime I walk through the gully with those wonderful vegetable vendors and their mounds of fresh, earthy okra and bhindi and karela sold for pennies a pound. That whiff of coriander intoxicating. Everytime I pass by those pyramids of cakes, ice-creams and burfis from the sweet shop. Everytime yet another gold and red kurta catches my eye, and the shop-wallah pounces on the twinkle in my eye, "Mem-sahib, vat is your interest? Only 100. High-quality item." There it is...that hum, that tingling under my skin. That sudden surge of joy--unexpected and welcome after another stress-packed day.

What is about a shop-wallah's single lit 100-watt bulb hanging naked down the front of his little store, lighting up the crowd gathered around him in the late evening light--shouting pointlessly "arreee...100 only! No bargaining! Fixed Price!", that makes me think of home, safety and warmth all bundled up in one somehow. Somehow. I know there was a store in my building from my neighborhood, with his single-lit, naked bulb. That evening light--a small space tucked into your day--right before darkness cloaks the streets, and all the mothers yell at their children to come home "Right now!!". "Mummy, ek aur minute!". The store-wallah watches you gloomily and occasionally shouts, "go away, ghar jao!"

Moments in time that somehow managed to become words.

Getting Around

My 4th day in Bangalore and I'm finding that it's a huge-ass city.

I've no idea how big exactly, since I effectively only travel about 30 miles an hour on the rickshaw. I love these little 3-wheeled pollution-spewing, rickety wagon-with-engines psuedo-cars. I find the bumpy, vibrating floor soothing. Also I totally dig that you can practically stick your entire body out the door and feel that heavy thick traffic smog rush past you. Sure, I'm too aware of my lungs these days, and my skin is decidedly gritty. But occasionally the air clears, and you can say hi to folks in the auto next to you since they are 3 inches from your face. Lovely. Seriously.

Also haggling with auto-wallahs, trying to decide if he's gonna drive you round and round the city to up the meter, which language would be best to use with him--all of it..good times, good times. I'm finding it really hard to tell one street apart from another here. I've my own home and workplace down, but everything else looks like every other street.

For the most part, if I wanna get someplace, the auto-wallahs find it for me and take me there. I still haven't decided if they really don't know where they are going or if they just wanna circle the block one more time. I tend to give 'em the benefit of the doubt since a). I've no other choice, I don't know where anything is. b). And here's the kicker...every other street or so is a one-way, but the direction of the one-way changes every two days or something. So it might take you 10 minutes to get from point A to point B, but going back might take you twice as long. Why do this? It's best not to ponder the whys too much.

Travel is very cheap--for less than a dollar, I can usually get anyplace I want to. And people are overwhelmingly nice. They wanna help you for no apparent reason. And no it's not because I have "foreigner" sketched across my forehead. It might be, but I don't think I look that firangi. I blend. I blend.

Also, I rode on the back of a motorbike two days ago. Helmet-less. Holy shit. I asked the dude I was with to please drive slowly, which he did, probably risking our lives in the process. Did I mention I saw a motorbike accident our last night in Delhi? Well I did. It was completely horrible. The dude's head had smashed open, blood everywhere. I'm over it, but it is
branded into my brain permanently. I was more than a little nervous when I saw our proposed mode of transportation. I kept thinking, "man, that concrete looks oh so hard."

"Can we take an auto?"--Me
"No problem" *head nod*
"I'll pay for it."--Me
"No problem" *head nod*

It turned out to be fun. There's nothing quite like having one of those giant, ugly lorries brush by your knees as your driver squeezes between that maruti and bus. And also driving into oncoming traffic on your tiny little scooter, ahh...it reaffirms life.

My work. I started two days ago--a day ago officially sort of--and so far I've been to a couple of meetings. I'm still learning how things function, and what my role exactly is. I'm grateful that the smaller, staff meetings (that doesn't include community members) are in English, which I hope is not for my benefit alone. But whenever I'm not at a meeting, and I peek in, they are talking Kannada.

I've met some cool people--a lot of mallus, I'm practicing my Malayalam. It's torturous to hear me talk my mallu to some very patient people. In my defense, I think a large reason why I'm having so much trouble stringing sentences together is because I'm not used to talking politics, culture, or human rights in Malayalam. I've no words in my language, only in English. It's interesting. Sometimes I just give up, and switch to Hindi or English. The organization I work for is this small, but vibrant human rights NGO. I will write more about it later.

We have moved into our house. We did it bright and early yesterday morning. I like our home a lot. We have a mango tree, a garden, our own bathrooms and this huge balcony. We live in a busy area of town, which has its pros and cons. Biggest con being there's a lot of "aimless youth" just hanging out outside the shops across the street. I'd prefer they hang elsewhere. But I haven't had any problems so far.

Overall, life is chugging along as it always does. It's been stressful. But I can feel myself settling. Slowly, I'm getting used to my new life. I am already feeling pangs of homesickness, but nothing too terrible. After a particularly stressful day, I wrote this in my little notebook that I carry around with me. It made me laugh when I read it the next morning.

"I hate that I'm a foreigner in India. I feel like screaming, "you don't understand, I was made to belong to you." and India is bitch-slapping me in reply."

She's calmed down since then:)

Bang A Lore

Arrived in Bangalore yesterday. A few of us traveled from Delhi to Bangalore by train, which took about 40 fun-filled hours. Delhi railway station was insane, and I am still not sure how we managed to haul ourselves and about 17 pieces of luggage over the train tracks, under the bridge and over the platform. An army of coolies, a rickety old wheelbarrow and a spectacularly priced 700 Rupees helped. The accomodations were cramped, claustrophic, but oddly comfortable (except for the bathrooms, which were kind of traumatic. Thankfully I was mercifully constipated.) The tea from the chai-walla was wonderful. Sharp, yet sweet. If I accomplish nothing else in my time here, I will at the very least learn to make tea like that. No wonder my parents talk of tea like its some ambroisa from the Gods.

I was robbed my first night on the train. I was sleeping (apparenly quite deeply since I don't remember any of this) and some fool rifled through my purse which I had by my feet. They took all my Indian money and my newly acquired desi cell phone. Very very thankfully, he didn't take any of my Amrikan dollars, nor my passport (which is worth--I'm told--about 7000 US Dollars in the black market.) He also didn't take my ipod. Just all things Indian. I'm over it. I was irritated at first, but what'dyou gonna do? It could have been so much worse.

Everyone that I've met so far have been so unbelievably kind and warm. People--sometimes random strangers--have bent over backwards to make sure we are settling in as comfortably as possible. On the train, one of the fellow's uncle happened to be traveling on the next compartment, and he was so kind. We were saved from eating e-coli-laced biryani. He had wonderful home-made matri, and dhokla and spicy chappatis.

Here's what's weird. Whenever I travel in the states, whether I'm going to new york or philly or Iowa by train, bus or plane, I invariably get atleast a little sick. Some little bug somewhere gets the best of me. But I've yet to get sick here. My immune system is a tough little soldier. **cyber knock on wood**

In India, if you think too much about how you are going to get things done, you will drive yourself insane. Everything has this way of working out somehow. Alright, gotto go. I'll update more later. Bangalore is a much more internet friendly city.

bunch of stuff and the ambassador sucks

Jet lag was kicking my ass, leaving me each day in a bloody pulp. But it's stablizing. So far I've lost all sense of time, I've acquired the desi head nod, my hindi has improved dramatically, I've a bunch of newly discovered opinions on development, my life in the US seems like another lifetime, I'm grateful when I get 6 hrs of sleep all in a row. I've also had odd moments when I'll be in some swanky pub in Delhi or dinner someplace and I'll totally forget I'm in India. These are weird moments. Surreal. It feels like DC, and I'm getting ready to head back to my Namaste House. Then I'll step outside, and that humidity will hit me like a ton of bricks, I'll haggle with the rickshaw-dude, and it will hit me for the 20th time that day...umm, I'm in India and will be staying.

Life is chugging along:) In a couple of days, I will be shipped off to Bangalore which I'm very much looking forward to. I'm a touch worried about the settling in process, but not overly. let's see...update.

The US ambassador to India is thoroughly obnoxious. In his defense, I must say I was already irritated when we sifted through security to find a huge expanse of lawn complete w/ two (not one, two) huge water fountains pouring out copious, disgusting amounts of clean-looking water. He had a small one inside his house too. Irritation. The US embassy has that "natives stay away" feel to it. After we arranged ourselves, and drank some fantastic iced tea, smooched with a couple of foreign service officers who were incapable of saying anything that didn't feel processed and packaged like cheese. Oh and the kicker was when the ambassodor introduced himself to a group of us, and when he got to a fellow who was placed in Gujurat had the apalling bad taste to say, "well when you get back to the states you will be staying in motels for free." *what?* *oh no, he didn't** The man knows about as much about development and human rights, as I do about investment banking.

I'm ready for orientation to be over. I have been for about 3 days. The staff have been wonderful, the NGOs we've heard from have been great, and the two sites visits we did were really fun. But I'd still like it to all be over, so I can start work. Two more days.

I'll try to do pictures. Right now that's not gonna happen. My future roommates apparently must have internet at home, so I might have regular connection when I get to bangalore.

Chalega!

Namaste from Internet cafe in Delhi!:) It's been a little over 24 hrs since I've been in India, and I've gone through internet withdrawal all day. A bunch of us went to this huge marketplace after our orientation session today, where I haggled my way out of 50 whole cents for this cute little kurta piece. I'm trying to train my brain to not automatically convert rupees into dollars. So when I hear 225, my brain screams, "225 dollars!!", when in fact it's like what...5$? But the surest way to kill a good haggle is to not look offended and outraged at the price.

Anywayy. My first day here has been hectic, overwhelming, slighly dizzying so far. The orientation session was meek today. We did silly ice-breaker stuff that was lame. But then the Exec. Director of the foundation gave a talk on NGOs and it was a nice overview of all the stakeholders involved. It was kind of great to hear a non-academic perspective.

I have this notebook where I scribble on all day, but I forgot it up in my room. Oh, so I have a Chalega story! For non-hindi speakers, Chalega literally means "keep walking" or something. But vernacularly, it means "it's okay,", "it's not a big deal". I use it whenever I wanna say No, but I wanna be polite about it. Or if I don't really care about the question posed. Versatile word no? Yes, my favorite word. So my story is I've been using it all over Delhi! So of course, instead of politely taking no for an answer, the shopkeepers have been like, "Chalega, kya chalega?" hahah...Okay, not so exciting story. heeheh

I've lots more stories, I'll try to update with them next time. Pictures are going to unlikely, I've seen no usb port anywhere. And it takes foreverr to upload pictures on a good day. This machine that I'm typing on is about a thousand years old.

Oh also, I don't understand how more people don't die in Delhi! Someone somewhere once said it's because there are so many gods in India, we all have an immortal watching out for us. I risk my life everytime I cross the street. My strategy so far has been following cows and little children into onrushing traffic. Still alive:)

Chalega!

Namaste from Internet cafe in Delhi!:) It's been a little over 24 hrs since I've been in India, and I've gone through internet withdrawal all day. A bunch of us went to this huge marketplace after our orientation session today, where I haggled my way out of 50 whole cents for this cute little kurta piece. I'm trying to train my brain to not automatically convert rupees into dollars. So when I hear 225, my brain screams, "225 dollars!!", when in fact it's like what...5$? But the surest way to kill a good haggle is to not look offended and outraged at the price.

Anywayy. My first day here has been hectic, overwhelming, slighly dizzying so far. The orientation session was meek today. We did silly ice-breaker stuff that was lame. But then the Exec. Director of the foundation gave a talk on NGOs and it was a nice overview of all the stakeholders involved. It was kind of great to hear a non-academic perspective.

I have this notebook where I scribble on all day, but I forgot it up in my room. Oh, so I have a Chalega story! For non-hindi speakers, Chalega literally means "keep walking" or something. But vernacularly, it means "it's okay,", "it's not a big deal". I use it whenever I wanna say No, but I wanna be polite about it. Or if I don't really care about the question posed. Versatile word no? Yes, my favorite word. So my story is I've been using it all over Delhi! So of course, instead of politely taking no for an answer, the shopkeepers have been like, "Chalega, kya chalega?" hahah...Okay, not so exciting story. heeheh

I've lots more stories, I'll try to update with them next time. Pictures are going to unlikely, I've seen no usb port anywhere. And it takes foreverr to upload pictures on a good day. This machine that I'm typing on is about a thousand years old.

Oh also, I don't understand how more people don't die in Delhi! Someone somewhere once said it's because there are so many gods in India, we all have an immortal watching out for us. I risk my life everytime I cross the street. My strategy so far has been following cows and little children into onrushing traffic. Still alive:)