Missing India

A year ago when school was starting I was waiting for my work visa to go to India. I had already met my exchange partner and everyday I thought I would be zippering my bags to get on the next plane to New Delhi. I had no idea what to expect once I arrived. The few questions that Sreelekha had asked me made me really wonder what I was going to see: 1. Where were all the people in New York City? And 2. Why are there so many rules on the road? Look, there are loads of people in New York. They are all over: walking, riding the bus, in taxis and hanging out in public places. Rules on the road, I wondered…do you mean the way we pass each other and speed limits? Both questions make much sense after seeing New Delhi. People are everywhere at all hours of the day. The number of people is what differed so much from New York. Instead of seeing about a dozen people on the sidewalk with me, I would see about a hundred people. And the roads? Driving in New Delhi and the surrounding area was only meant for the very brave, experienced, preferably Punjabi drivers like Jasbir. I would never have believed the differences if I wasn’t there for three months. There are in theory no rules on the road. Vehicles include cars, trucks, auto rickshaws, bicycle rickshaws, regular bicycles, pedestrians, and the occasional cow or bull that decides to enter the roadway. Everyone heads in the same direction but stoplights rarely work and if they do, not everyone decides to stop. It’s defensive driving all the time. Anything could come at your vehicle from the side. The average speed is 30 miles per hour. Any speed faster than that would be on a major throughway and there aren’t that many of them. The roadway infrastructure certainly can be improved. But it works and most people survive the insanity of traffic and the intensity of noise just fine. Beeping happens constantly as a way to warn people that you are next to them on the road. “Blow Horn Please” is written on most trucks as a way of reminding drivers that they don’t have the same kind of visibility that others do. As great as a driver Jasbir was, we still were in two accidents. The five other Americans that I met in Delhi all agreed that it would be terribly boring when we returned to the U.S. The action on the streets alone is amazing to watch. Any person can stop at a street vendor or have a shave right on the side of the road. A mirror would be nailed to a tree and a chair would be in front of that and immediately one man has made a shop for himself, which he hopes will be attended by a customer. I guess I miss those sights. I just watched “Jeremy Piven’s Trip to India” on the Travel Channel. He featured some of the regular sights I mentioned in New Delhi and he also showed lots of monkeys. Seeing monkeys out on the street as opposed to the zoo definitely excited me at first. But when I realized how nasty and aggressive they are I hoped to no longer cross paths with them. Cows, bulls and buffalo on the other hand are so peaceful that seeing them almost always made me smile. Watching Piven’s experience and hearing his reflections on India made me realize that everyone can see India just like that; get on a plane and go. There is so much to see and do there. But I don’t just miss the scenery. I miss the people. What made my experience unique was the fact that I lived and worked in the community. I met my neighbors and colleagues and students and my servants and I saw them everyday. Bart and I had dinner a few weeks ago with my downstairs neighbors, Raj and Karan, who came to New York City to visit family. I had them over to our apartment and then we went out to a local Upper West Side restaurant. We talked about our lives and then moved into the differences between India and America. The malls that are being built in Gurgaon, where we lived, encourage Indians to become the kind of consumers that we are here in America. Raj said that Indian people just don’t go out and buy things the way we do here. The malls won’t last. We talked with a candor that friends have. Even though I haven’t seen them since last December, I felt connected to Raj and Karan. Raj and Karan took great care of me and made sure I could find everything I needed in our Gurgaon community. They made me feel safe. The people of India embraced me. My cook Pushpa patiently taught me how to tie a sari so I could wear one to work at least once a week. Even though we didn’t have much to say to each other using words, Pushpa and I formed a connection too. The students of Sanskriti didn’t waste anytime getting to know me. I remember the first day of school they asked me if I voted for him. They said him with such disgust; I just smirked and said: I didn’t vote for him the first or the second time. They were baffled by the way he became president and wondered if the majority of the American people supported his policies. From politics we talked about Indian food and customs. They wanted to know what I was eating and how I liked it. And if a student had a particularly good meal in his or her tiffin box, he or she would offer me some. It was sweet. The faculty at the school also went out of their way to make me feel a part of the community. They asked how I was doing and invited me to their homes and to other exciting events in the community. As soon as I arrived I went to see a professional production of the classic India epic, “The Ramayan.” The dance teacher at Sanskriti also choreographed this version. Without knowing me, he reserved a seat for me in the front row. Even though these people were in my life for a brief time period, I think about them often. I love the amazing neighbors, friends, colleagues and students here in New York City and Greenwich, CT. It was just different I guess. I think though that I’ll be going back to India within the next ten years. I hope to maintain my long distance relationships to the best of my ability. Music: “500 Miles High”- Return to Forever Featuring Chick Corea