rain rain rain

Today there is flooding. I came into the office after a puja at home this morning, but we probably should never have left the house. I'm heading home now.. my aunt just said there's water in the car.

20. Tailored clothes. It's cheaper to get something made to fit you than to buy it in a store. Or if you all of a sudden decide your pants are too long, the guy down the street will shorten them while you watch him do it.

choti khushiyan

As per Tolu's request, a list (in no particular order) of some of the little pleasures in my life here. I'll continue to add to the list in future posts.

1. Being able to step literally right outside the front gate and buy fruits and vegetables any day any time.
2. Service. No matter where you go, it's someone's job to make sure you're comfortable.
3. Scraping the fruit off the mango skin with my teeth.
4. Not having to worry whether the mango I'm buying will actually have any taste.
5. Walking down the street in a sari and not being the only one (although at work, no one else does..it seems girls here aren't used to wearing them. Now who's Indian??)
6. Going out for a run wearing my shorts and being the only one wearing shorts. And the only one running.
7. Trying to practice Hindi by reading the store signs and painfully recognizing the characters and sounding out the words, and thinking that I don't know what they mean (what is kahlar?) only to realize that it says something like "Color Printing."
8. The ridiculous spellings of English words in Hindi.
9. That every banana is an explosion of flavor. Imagine a banana. Now multiply by ten. That is a real banana.
10. Everyone is 'yaar' (short for 'friend') or 'ji' or 'sir' or 'madam.'
11. The cool, licorice-like scent that fills my breath after chewing fennel after a meal.
12. Sitting under the fan in the living room on a really sticky day.
13. There is a season called the "rainy season."
14. Hearing "I Kissed A Girl" by Katie Perry on the radio yesterday.
15. Banana chips.
16. Watching everyone come and go from the living room window. Also handing things to people through the window grate.
17. Handing the guy clothes for ironing when he comes to drop off freshly ironed ones.
18. Actually ironing my own clothes before I wear them. (I think I've ironed my clothes twice in all my time at WashU.)
19. How cutting people off on the road is not only not considered rude, it is a necessary maneuver and a sign of skillful driving.

Beautiful people, beautiful place

By cosmic grace, I was able to spend this past weekend floating in a pool of love. My dad's elder brother is a monk of the Yogananda order and I called him up to see when and where we could meet. This particular uncle I last saw in Binghamton about fifteen years ago when I was six or so. Friday, I flew from Mumbai to Chandigarh. He met me there and we went to a devotee's house for lunch. These people have a beautiful family and are so hospitable. They sent us on our way to Shimla, and we picked up another devotee, Arora ji, along the way, whom I came eventually to consider both a mother and a father! The ashram is tucked up away in the tree-covered foothills of the Himalayas. From the balconies you can gaze accross the valley. The weather is temperate and an even breeze rides over every day. When it rains, the air turns fresh, but Swami ji gave me a shawl to keep warm.

So Arora ji kept us full of excellent cooking. Other devotees from the area came by to pick us up and give me a thorough and highly informative tour of Shimla. I swear, there was one guy who could tell you when and how every speck of dust in Shimla came to be there. We visited a few temples and the Indian Institute for Advanced Studies, which is a historic building that now houses post-docs. Many important historic events took place there. We saw "Mal Road," which comes from the English "mall," which meant a place where the Brits could stroll with no Indians around. Then, they took me to a store which sells fine Himachali goods (as in the state, Himachal Pradesh.) I spent Sunday morning talking to my uncle, hearing some excellent stories and talking of subtle forces. I spent the afternoon with some of the members, just talking, singing, and sitting, letting the evening roll in. They helped me patiently with my Hindi, especially since Bombay had been teaching me pretty crude manners. Everyone there spoke at least 50% of the time in Hindi, so I got a lot of practice listening.

There is a beautiful metaphor in the Autobiography describing Luther Burbank:
"The modesty with which he wore his scientific fame repeatedly reminded me of the trees that bend low with the burden of ripening fruits; it's the barren tree that lifts its head high in an empty boast."
I'll borrow the analogy to say that the weight and magnitude of immense love I receieved in Shimla left me overwhelmed and unable to do anything but lower my head in humility. I don't know if the well of my heart was deep enough to reciprocate. I hope so.

Arora ji accompanied me back to Chandigarh and left me with the Atray family (whom I'd met on my way in). They fed me and gave me, as a parting gift, a beautiful silver cup and a Bible. I was touched; they had maybe known me for a grand total of 90 minutes. They took me to the airport and I reached home safely, where I read a touching email from Arora ji giving me "lots of non stop blessings." Heheh.

In short, it was a beautiful weekend.

Vidya vs. Vidya

I’m once again reminded of the total variability of what we tend to call identity. Dress, speech, mood, even behavior, are totally fluid and depend entirely on everything else. I guess this is what you’d call “structuralism” as per Barthes and Krauss..

Anyway, I am made acutely aware here that I am American (less in my own feeling than in the way others see me), whereas in America, I’m the Indian. What’s more interesting is the way I respond to the way I think people see me. Someone in the cafeteria this week pointed to the saunf (fennel seed, chewed as a mouth freshener) and asked me if I knew what to do with it. I said, “Yes,” but I was thinking, “No, can you tie my shoes for me, too?” I resist being labeled as one or the other. If someone says I’m American, I want to assert that I’m also Indian. If someone calls me Indian, I want to remind them that I am just as much American. In truth, I’m neither. I belong to a crossbreed of first generation Americans. In many ways, we’re extremely privileged. First and foremost, with perspective. We get to see both worlds. And we get the choice. That’s second: the ability to pick and choose a la carte which values we value. And we can leave behind the ones we think will hold us back. Our choices are largely dependent upon which opposing values (from East and West) we can manage to reconcile. Because growing up is not easy when at home you hear one thing and at school another. At the end of the day, you realize that some (very very few) things are universal, but most are circumstantial. A society’s attitude toward cleanliness, relationships, education, food, sex, and even its very notion of respect are all conventional. None of these comes from gospel. For example, women in America wear shorts. People are used to seeing this. Women here do not. People here are not. That’s it; there is nothing more to it. (Of course, the wise woman is aware of conventions and is conscious when she is breaking them.)

I often find my uncle pointing out when we do things differently that it is because I’m American and he is Indian. Clearly, this is not always the case. In fact, it is very difficult to generalize what an American is in the first place. Americans come from everywhere..when you find an American with any particular quality, expect to find another with the exact opposite – sometimes even next door. It’s really very fitting that I am reading (the last chapter) of Yogananda’s Autobiography. (For those of you don’t know, he was an Indian monk who made a divine journey to the West in the early 20th century to share India’s spiritual wealth.) In fact, he published a magazine called East-West. I think he understood better than anyone just how much the two could learn from one another. I feel very lucky to be able to sit at this juncture and observe my two families. So many doors are open to me.