DISCLAIMER: I would like to preface that these are my PERSONAL observations
1. PDA is most common between males who are close friends or family (it is common to see men holding hands/pinkies or with an arm around each other’s shoulder)
2. Homosexuality was punishable by law until 2009 (Section 337, a British inheritance dating back to the 1800s)
3. Bartering is the only way to survive markets4. According to Mr. Jolly-Sir the 3 Indian pass times are: cricket, Bollywood, and marriage
5. Car owners, mainly men, wake up early to clean their cars6. Indian food is fantastic! Paneer is my favorite.7. Parks are common place for courtship among young couples
8. McDonalds, Pizza Hut, KFC, Dominoes Pizza, Subway, and Taco Bell have a presence in India 9. Produce is mad cheap10. India produces 52 varieties of mango
11. 50% of the world’s mangoes come from India
12. Toe rings symbolize marriage. Some women wear as many toe rigs as they have children
13. Vegetarianism is the norm (I very much enjoy it)
14. It is common for movie starts to be elected into office- people strongly attach to their acting roles as "saviors", so they take a leap of faith by voting for them
15. According to Mr. Jolly-Sir the 3 issues facing India are: overpopulation, corruption, and poverty16. Smiling in pictures is not a common practice (I tried the straight face in one of my pictures, you know, to fit in, and I looked like I was going to murder someone. I will leave this practice to the people of India and those with softer, natural facial expressions)17. Rickshaw drivers are notorious for: 1) refusing to use the meter, 2) smoking while driving, 3) suggesting or driving you to businesses that pay them a commission in exchange for new customers, 4) taking naps in their autos, and 5) being incredibly reliable
18. Honking is a sign of courtesy to pedestrians and other drivers (one day a car passed me without honking and I was personally offended. Doesn’t he care about my safety? lol)
19. The people have mixed reviews on my ability to pass as an Indian woman 20. The people are beautiful
21. A normal work day starts at 10am and ends at 5ish
22. There is a general belief that Americans are too neurotic about time
23. I have not spotted any clocks around the office24. Milk is sold in sealed, plastic bags
25. White people are considered a spectacle; Indians enjoy taking pictures of them
26. Verbal “thank yous” are an anomaly27. Curd is eaten after every meal (helps cut down the oil and the spices- very good for the digestive system)
28. Homemade chai tea is amazing!
29. People are very giving and caring (every time the Maitri children are given a snack, they insist that Meli and I take one. THE ROUTINE: Someone offers a banana we say “no thank you!” The children say “Ma’am please!”30. Sunday is a casual day (everything is OPEN!)
31. I have only seen a handful of women driving cars, small motorcycles, and riding bikes
32. I have yet to see a snake charmer33. Head-bobbing is an important non-verbal cue (a single bob to the right means yes or understood)
34. The caste system is outlawed, but its influence remains35. Advertisement is fraught with images of White men and women OR Indian men and women of light complexion
36. I have not seen anyone with braces
37. Meli is the best roommate and the most appropriate person to share this experience with
38. Coffeehouse does not equal wi-fi
39. Coffee does not equal US idea of coffee (here, coffee is regularly served with milk and is blended)40. Unless you’re at a market or a bus stop around the time school is out, women are a rare sight41. Birds are held in the utmost regard by Hindus
42. Cold showers during the summer are the BEST
43. People are baffled by the fact that we don't have rice for lunch and dinner on a daily basis
44. People sweep constantly
45. Flatulence is nothing to be embarrassed about
46. People advise against eating mango until after June 1st
47. The metro has a "women's only" section- the only time I have favored segregation lol ... the metro gets packed
48. I rarely know what time it is
49. Drinking age is 25
50. Driving age is 18
51. Anu & Baby are the coolest little people I've met (they are the two students I tutor/mentor at the Maitri Tutorial Center). It is difficult to communicate due to the language barrier, but I do my best to illustrate ideas with pictures and using non-verbal communication. Usually they try to teach me Hindi. :) In fact, yesterday they set aside the "English book", picked up a "Hindi book", read me a story, and had me repeat every word they said. A beautiful role reversal. All I could gather about the story was that Abu and Laxmi were going to school on a rickshaw. hehe
As you know, eating is a personal pastime that I do exceptionally well, if I do say so myself. Typically I eat every two hours, almost on the dot. I am notorious for lugging around snacks and "everything a person could possibly need." Since my arrival to India, I have discontinued this eating pattern. On one hand because there is a limited selection of trusted, healthy foods (besides fruits and veggies) and on the other because it can be expensive to sustain such a diet. During my shift today, around 3:30pm, I began to feel very weak and dizzy. My first hypothesis was "I must be dehydrated"... but after some thought, I realized that I have been drinking a good amount of water (which is awesome considering that I am not very good at it). My second hypothesis was "it must be the temperature of the room"... but then I felt the gust of the spinning fan (btw- spinning fans kinda freak me out. Idk why I often imagine them coming unhinged and slicing my pinky off... dorky, I know). Then, aided by my chubbies and a growling tummy, I came up with what seemed to be the most accurate hypothesis "I must be hungry." I was indeed hungry. I started thinking about what I had eaten since waking up at 6:30am. - 7am Breakfast: one banana, 4 scoops of plain yogurt, and 1 slice of multigrain toast with peanut butter and mango jam (7am)
- 10am Homemade Chai Tea courtesy of Jagir-peya (peya means brother)
- 1pm Lunch: approximately four spoons of white rice, three spoons of beans, and a few potato slices
As I began thinking about the rumble in my tummy, I remembered an experience I had yesterday while visiting Maitrigram (a center that offers vocational training and empowerment programs to women living in the slums). In route to the center, we passed Som Vihar. “Hey, there’s our place!” I exclaimed. We didn't travel much further before I realized that a slum was located a few blocks from the apartment. With poverty and struggle as my neighbors, I couldn't help but feel undeserving of my unearned privilege. I eat at the table, and my neighbors, well, if they eat at all, they do so on the dusty floor.
My thought was interrupted as I felt a jerk from turning right into the neighborhood. Immediately, my eyes were overwhelmed by he sight of people who lined both sides of the street-- as people would at a wedding expecting the bride and groom to come out of the
church, except here, the people, would expect nothing but traffic. Women, men, and children crowded underneath the shading of trees and under tarps to soften the rigidity of the sun. Many used newspaper as mats and beds. A few feet from an abandoned security post, we pulled onto the unpaved walkway which at that moment became our parking lot. Exiting the car, I saw a little boy, around age 5, who was running up and down a narrow walkway between slum homes holding a short stick to which he had attached a small, white plastic bag. As he picked up speed, the bag would inflate the way an air balloon would in preparation for flight... this was his toy. We walked straight onto the walkway where the boy was. 
We were surrounded by homes as tall as myself with tarps and metal sheets as roofing and curtains as doors. Some were painted blue and others were the color of cement. Down an intersecting walkway came an 8 year old boy who was riding an old tricycle with flat tires. Moments later he was joined by a shoeless little girl, of age 3 or 4, who came out from behind a curtain in an off-pink dress. Despite her "boy cut" hair, she had enough hair to wear a little pony tail that spread like a palm tree over her head. I followed her with my eyes as she traversed a puddle of dirty water with her bare feet. A wave of curious children fell upon us wondering what we were doing.
“Let’s go!” Said Mr. Jolly-Sir. “We are having problems with the lock, but we will come again, soon!” We didn't get a chance to see Maitrigram or to play with the children, but I hope we will on our next trip.
In walking back to the car, I witnessed of a group of people filling buckets and bottles with water of the color green that was emerging from a street well (for lack of better terms- it was just a hole in the street). I wondered “Is that for drinking?”
Recalling this experience, made my hunger feel so trivial considering that it was not related to food insecurity (lack of access), as many experience in India and around the globe. All of a sudden eating every two hours as I accustomed felt snobby and inappropriate. It struck me that for some of us thinness and weigh loss are a conscious choice or genetic trait, while for others it’s an imposed and undesired state. In counting my blessings, my Abuelita Lupe’s voice replays in my head reminding me to be grateful for everything I have, for the meals that I have not deserved or needed, and to remember the hungry when I am being wasteful.
It was humbling to feel hungry. I am blessed to have the income to purchase the food that I need and it was so painful to think that others cannot do the same when their tummies start to rumble.
I apologize for the disorganized writing. As of now, my chubbies, heart, and mind are having a conference on hunger.... more to come.
Vrindavan is an ancient city that is known as the birthplace of Lord Krishna and as the home to a large number of Bengali widows. In some communities, women and “their sins” are believed to be at fault for the death of their husbands. Thus when the husband dies, the widows are thrown out of the home as they are perceived to be a bad omen on the family. Devoting their lives to the adoration of Lord Krishna, is seen as the only way to earn salvation. For this reason, the widows migrate to Vrindavan (some independently and others are brought by their families) to become spiritually wed to Lord Krishna. Their livelihood largely depends on the benevolence of others. Few have access to pensions (300 rupees or US $6.6, a month), but many of them are not aware of such benefits or lose motivation to complete applications due to bureaucratic barriers (sound familiar?). They are often seen begging or singing at temples for 3 rupees a day (US $0.07) and a small serving of rice.
Maitri is heavily involved in restoring the dignity and hope to destitute widows. They do so by managing the Chaitanya Vihar Ashram --a sort of convent that looks very much like a school-- and providing one healthy-midday meal. Our intent in going was to meet the widows and to participate in the distribution of food. While we missed the distribution the first day, Meli and I were fortunate to participate during the second trip.
From the time we entered the ashram, elderly women in saris greeted us “Radhe Radhe!” --a hail of sorts to Lord Krishna. In response, we would place our hands in prayer position, bow our heads, and say “Radhe Rahde!” If there is one thing Meli and I have memorized is the broken phrase “Hindi, nehi. Inglish" (No Hindi, English). After reciting these words, some of them would kindly smile, nod, and continue on their way, while others would continue speaking in Hindi, despite knowing we didn’t understand. The majority of these women are in overall good health, as good as can be expected, but a good number are seriously are ill. One woman approached me, again I recited my broken phrase, but she didn’t seem to mind the language barrier. With sadness in her eyes, she pointed to some dark-red bumps she had on her arms as she repeated some words --it seemed like she was pleading for help. At that moment, I was so mad at myself for not speaking Hindi. I desperately wanted to know what afflicted this frail woman and to offer her an ear and some words of comfort. Instead, I gently caressed her arm and hoped to communicate, non-verbally, that I was sorry for her pain. I don’t know if I was successful, but I made sure to mention it to Anita, my coworker for further inquiry.
Snapping his fingers, Mr. Jo
lly-Sir exclaimed “Go to the other ashram! Go, go!” We followed our coworker out to the van and set out to the “old ashram” (I don’t recall the name). Driving through the narrow and bumpy roads, felt like moving through a labyrinth, while sitting next to a cow, smoking a cigarette of smog, watching a wild monkey documentary, and grooving to a musical mix of honks and hollers. It was wild to witness the spatial awareness of the people.
We finally arrived to the ashram, without anyone who spoke English. Uh-oh! Watching the widows set up, Meli and I tried to find the right time to pick up a bucket filled with food, and serve the meal to the widows. After an opening hymn, some women picked up buckets, and we took that as our cue to “get to work.” I asked “Ek? Do?” (One? Two?) as I held the spoon filled with vegetables, hoping to glean what portion I would distribute. “Ek!” Replied the woman. Non-verbals saved us during this experience. The women, who were seated in rows on the thin mat, would point to the place where they wanted each of the entrees served
. With their hands, they would indicate if they wanted more, if they had enough, or if they didn’t want any at all. I learn that “bas” means enough, and “mor” means more. We went around a couple of times, and I noticed that some had a healthy appetite (my kind of women! lol). With a mischievous look on her face, one woman kept asking me for more lol... and of course, I supplied it (can’t oppress the chubbies- you know, the hungry people in our head). As they ate, they chatted loudly, laughed, saved “seats” for each other, and advocated for those who weren’t there by asking for another serving in a container to go.
Grateful for their food, the women picked up their plates, walked back to their rooms as they exclaimed “Radhe, Ra
dhe.” I was incredibly moved by these women, who despite the abandonment of their families, laughed, gave thanks, and had the will power to return to the temple to sign just for 3 rupees a day. I am incredibly privileged to bask in their energy.
Ps. In route to Vrindavan, I witnessed the first sighting of a cow, camel, elephant, and monkey. All in a days work! :)
Pss. According to Mr. Jolly-Sir my name is Eva... he thinks it easier for him.
