Settling in, a bit

Well, that was an interesting evening. A group of us went out for an early evening on the town, as everyone else had a 9pm curfew. We visited Hauz Khas Village, described by my hostmother Tiposhi-ji as “full of young people, and parties, and just smells of drugs and hashish;” we were, of course, intrigued. Walking to the village from the metro is rather long and takes you by two beautiful parks, and as you get closer there is a collection of old monuments and tombs, to something or someone I do not know (they had little information placards, but the information they contained was something like “under act 243a this site has been declared an active historical site” and not, say, why they were historical sites). There was a beautiful white temple, and then the parking started, and there was a large pile of trash, and then: the village. It was, as predicted, full of young people. Not so much of the parties at 5pm, but it definitely smelled like hashish.

We stopped into the first bar that promised free drinks for women (I was the sole male traveling with six other women who were enthralled with the idea). The thing is: most places seemed to advertise this, and most places did not seem to follow through. So we stepped into the Village Deck, or some such place. The first floor was dark and played a variety of western pop at an astonishingly loud volume, and so conversation was not even attempted. But! There was some excellent dancing to be had! Not by us, we just watched. It was an interesting place. And the second floor of the bar was the 5th (6th?) floor of the building, out on the roof and looking over the entrance to the village, with a pretty beautiful view. That was more my style. Women's drinks, unfortunately, did not end up being free. So after one round up there, we went down a few flights of stairs to the Village Balcony, promising “a taste of surburb culture” and more free drinks for women (it turned out to be a buy one, get two free deal). And we sat on the balcony and looked out over Hauz Khas and talked for an hour.

When that was over, everyone else had their curfews, but Ally and I were supposed to instead meet our hostfamily at Aurobindo market to get picked up and go to a birthday celebration for my hostuncle. We went to a small restaurant and bar right around the corner from the Ashram that we had stayed in, that calm and spiritual place. The restaurant played a variety of (old) western pop at an astonishingly loud volume, and was covered in posters and pictures of The Beatles, Elvis, The Doors, Metallica and the like. We were served a variety of snacks, like flatbread and wings, and given a budweiser each. It was a pretty silly place.

…

I should mention, this is not like a typical evening. I'm settling in right now, and my hostfamily is wonderful and very nice. I have been very poor with their names, but Taposhi Mittra is our hostmother, and her mother, Rita, lives here as well. Her sister lives here most of the time, but is currently visitng her husband in Ghana, and her brother and his wife live right around the corner (also right next to the Ashram). Taposhiji also has a daughter (Nina? But that is just a nickname, I think) who is 24 and lives down in Bangalore, making animations for Zynga, but is visiting here for the next week. There is also a niece that grew up in this house, but I am unsure of where she is now (perhaps I heard she was in a convent? But that seems unlikely). And then, there is Thonbi (I am most likely spelling that horridly), a servant who seems to do most of the work around the house, including the delicious cooking, who is rather young and smiles a lot. I also see a fair bit of the driver, but his name has unfortunately slipped my mind. And then a little girl, Lakshmi, shows up every once in a while and hangs out. I don't really know who she is, but she is very sweet, and asked to be my friend. So that is good! And she has a little brother, I think, named Disa, I think.

I am unfortunately poor at written portraiture, but they are all very lovely people, rest assured. They even have a dog! And the house, too, is lovely: I am in a room on the roof with my own private bathroom and AC, and the roof is full of beautiful plants (tended by Ritaji, who says she has somewhat of a motherly affection for them) and has an excellent view, so I am super lucky with that. Our walk to the program house takes us through a section of tiny streets that are packed full of everything that one could possibly need, and a fair amount of the unnecessary as well. These roads are not for cars, but they are full of people and shops and temples and dogs and so many bright colors! and two-way motorcycle traffic and slum-dwellings and fancy apartments and delicious smells and quite noisesome smells.

…

So far, India is mostly just a place. There is lots of traffic, lots of honking, lots of smells and trash but this is just window-dressing, and it didn't take too long to get used to. There are lots of people, lots of smiling people and very helpful people, and you do have to haggle with the rickshaw-wallahs a fair amount and they of course charge way too much, but such is life. What is different is that the rich and the poor are just squashed together, and dealing with the beggars and the slum dwellings has been the hardest for me. Or… not? It is very weird. The program is very definite: you should not give to the beggars, as they are frequently forced to give all their earnings to a slum-king or something of the sort. If you give them food, they will turn around and sell it again. Children are drugged and handicapped to become more pitiful, so that they earn more money, and it all flows back to those that maintain power; giving to the children is just supposed to perpetuate this harmful system. Those kids are supposed to be in schools, and this system pulls them out and forces them instead to beg.

And so, when I encounter a beggar on the street, I just walk by. I remember most of their faces though, and the face of one women holding her tiny child in her arms, full of desperation and hope, haunts me. But not that much, and I am also appalled by this fact, and by the easy callousness I have as I walk on by. It is too easy for me to ignore them. I can see their faces later, but I never bother to learn their names, or attempt to help in any way, and don't know how I could.

And of course, this desperation exists in the US as well, perhaps to a lesser extent, and I ignore it quite well over there too.

Life is so hard for so many, and I am so lucky and do so little to help others.

…

…

The people, though, are nice and caring, and the students that I am with are nice and caring. The head of the program has some problematic colonialistic tendencies, for lack of a better phrase, but I am not very good at talking about stuff like that. She does, however, know her stuff, and I think if she does less of putting her personality into lectures, they will be very informative and interesting and less stressful. The reading she has assigned has mostly been quite interesting. And everyone else at the center is wonderfully kind, and the food, of course, is delicious. The weather is hot, and the birds are large, and the temples and architecture are frequently old and beautiful and awe-inspiring. And that, for now, is mostly what life is like for me.

…

Sorry for the relative dearth of photographs, but I've mostly been letting other people take the pictures, and don't have access to theirs yet.