[Stand forewarned: There be a bit of rambling below. But I think this is important, so skip through parts if you need to, but make it to the end? Please?]
I was Skyping with my maid at home the other day. It feels weird to call her that, somehow. She helps my mom with the washing and cleaning, so I guess that's what she is. But I call her Aunty and I care about her immensely. So I was Skyping with Aunty for a while - asking her about how her daughers were doing, whether it was getting cold over there and explaining to her how she could see my face from half-way across the world.
I was Skyping with my maid at home the other day. It feels weird to call her that, somehow. She helps my mom with the washing and cleaning, so I guess that's what she is. But I call her Aunty and I care about her immensely. So I was Skyping with Aunty for a while - asking her about how her daughers were doing, whether it was getting cold over there and explaining to her how she could see my face from half-way across the world.
She asked me if I was eating alright and getting enough sleep and grinned was that I was using the washing machine all by myself. And then she paused. I could see her furrowing her eyebrow at my pixelated face on the screen, as she said worriedly, "Neellu dandiga unnaiya akkada?" (Do you have enough water to use?)
It made me smile and broke my heart, all at the same time. I told her that no town in America has a water shortage and the wonder in her face at that sentence broke my heart all over again.
I am an Indian. I come from a city where millions of people struggle to get by; where lives are seeped in poverty, corruption and exploitation. I come from a land soaked in traditions and customs and often choked by those very beliefs and rituals. That country is my home.
Today though, I have left it for a while. Today, I live in the kind of place where people complain if they happen to chance upon a watermelon with the seeds still inside. For all the watermelons here are genetically modified to have no seeds, presumably to facilitate easy eating. It's such a stark contrast it makes my head hurt. That such a contradiction could be stretched so thinly over two hemispheres makes my mind boggle. What right have I to be here? What right have I to chase a dream, when there's so much I can do for India back home?
Over the past year, before I moved here, I worked full time with a non-profit organization in Bangalore. And at the risk of sounding cliche, it was a life-changing experience. The NGO showed me stories that I shudder to think I might never have heard. I spent more time than ever before on the streets, in underprivileged communities, talking to the doctors, teachers, rickshaw drivers, daily wage workers, nuns, masjid committees and even government officials who make up that world. I wish I could put into words everything that I saw, felt and experienced, but words seem to fail.
I guess I can say that I heard her stories last year, for India is just brimming with stories. Tens of thousands of stories that prick and burn the very core of you, and tens of thousands more that leave you feeling helpless and frustrated. It is easy to see that we are a complicated, complicated country - with a unique, perplexing set of problems.
And so, I suppose it is easy to move away and remove yourself from all of it; keep yourself from dealing with any of it. It must be easy to live in America and visit home, disdainfully, wrinkling up your nose at the smells. I've seen it so often with so many people and so, I suppose it's easy. I suppose that it is easy to go back and look around with incredulity and disgust, like you forgot that you were ever a part of it. People do live in the middle of the chaos and corruption, the dirt and pollution, and live happily. We live happily. I hope I never forget it. I hope I can go back and be alright. Today, I've accepted my messed up country with all it's ten thousand flaws. I hope that wherever I go in life, which ever countries I live in, I'll be able to fly home years later, and accept all of those things again.
And to all of those nose-wrinklers, those incredulous visitors, those disdainful Indians, I say this: I am glad you left. Living in India is not for the faint-hearted. It is not for those who like to avoid issues and close their eyes to things that are difficult and complex and painful. Those kind of people harm India, and could never do her any good.
Living here is for the strong; for those who can take it. Living here is for those who chose to open their eyes to her problems. Living here is for those who can see her messy, beautiful soul and attempt to do what they can to fix her.
I'm not a romantic, I'm not deluded. I'm not saying that every Indian should drop it all and dedicate their lives to their country. I'm not excessively nationalistic, I'd like to think that I am a citizen of the world. I wouldn't call myself a social worker or a tree-hugger. I am a scientist, I love what I do deeply and I'd like to contribute to the world that I live in.
However, in addition to all of these things, I am also Indian. And I believe that being an Indian comes with responsibilities - to care, be be aware, to understand and to be a part of making a change, in any way possible.
Can we throw that wrapper in a trash can, despite the overwhelming pile of trash beside it? Can we remember that the woman who's sweeping the streets lives in a house with no electricity and no water? Can we understand that she will let her husband beat her because she cannot fathom any different? Can we open our eyes and see that the man who never pays tax believes that tax only feeds the fat politicians and that the benefits will never trickle down to him? Can we be aware that the man who takes a bribe from you has to pay off ten people above him?
Are we ready to listen with open minds and hearts to the stories beyond our imagination? Can we accept them for what they are? Being an Indian is not simple. It is a complicated and perpetually tumultuous conflict. And I know with all the certainty in my mind that one doesn't run away from that.
Living here is for the strong; for those who can take it. Living here is for those who chose to open their eyes to her problems. Living here is for those who can see her messy, beautiful soul and attempt to do what they can to fix her.
I'm not a romantic, I'm not deluded. I'm not saying that every Indian should drop it all and dedicate their lives to their country. I'm not excessively nationalistic, I'd like to think that I am a citizen of the world. I wouldn't call myself a social worker or a tree-hugger. I am a scientist, I love what I do deeply and I'd like to contribute to the world that I live in.
However, in addition to all of these things, I am also Indian. And I believe that being an Indian comes with responsibilities - to care, be be aware, to understand and to be a part of making a change, in any way possible.
Can we throw that wrapper in a trash can, despite the overwhelming pile of trash beside it? Can we remember that the woman who's sweeping the streets lives in a house with no electricity and no water? Can we understand that she will let her husband beat her because she cannot fathom any different? Can we open our eyes and see that the man who never pays tax believes that tax only feeds the fat politicians and that the benefits will never trickle down to him? Can we be aware that the man who takes a bribe from you has to pay off ten people above him?
Are we ready to listen with open minds and hearts to the stories beyond our imagination? Can we accept them for what they are? Being an Indian is not simple. It is a complicated and perpetually tumultuous conflict. And I know with all the certainty in my mind that one doesn't run away from that.
Very well expressed. I have always wondered why is life so unfair for so many millions in India? Is such contrasting economic disparity the cause or the effect of something else? It has to be something much deeper than just poverty, because there is poverty in other countries as well. Here is something to think about. While at Vincennes, I saw and heard a janitor lady, an elderly African American, yelling at some students not to make a mess in the cafeteria. Can you ever see that in India? A janitor hardly has a voice and lives half a life in India. A renaissance that spans a couple of centuries is what is required.
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ReplyDeleteI was in India for a few months recently and used the auto-rickshaws quite a bit. The actual auto fare in Chennai (Bangalore was better in this regard) was more than triple the state stipulated amount. The state government had prescribed rates based on decade old fuel prices and a more than half a century old inflation food basket, thereby making a dysfunctional tariff system that leaves negative money in the pockets of auto drivers. My autowalla brethren however have a “fix” - negotiate a fare for every savari that can put some rice on the table after paying for the expenses (which they will inform you include fuel, daily rent for the vehicle and a payoff to the traffic police).
ReplyDeleteI hated negotiating the fare every day. I wanted to find a solution that can be institutionalized (one that does not require me to negotiate before every ride), but could see no viable fix for the auto-rickshaw fare scenario. The state can modify the rules but the autowalla will negotiate to maximize his fare with every potential passenger. He has a conditioned behavior when it comes to facing ‘hurdles’ – do what it takes to negotiate around it with minimal damage to self. I can see this behavior when he weaves through traffic with utter disregard for traffic rules, disregard for the vehicles around him, disregard for the comfort of his passenger, disregard for everything except… himself. His behavior is passively condoned by passengers, the traffic police and the government as a whole. Why? Because they have their own battles to fight, it suffices to accommodate and negotiate the autowalla.
What are these battles anyway? They are usually scrambles, in that they require short term (and often shortsighted) effort towards a goal (like beating the traffic to catch the traffic signal). Such endeavors are inherently tiring and resource sapping. Importantly, they have an associated opportunity cost – of missing out on process-driven activities that does not demand innovation at every step and still takes one towards a ‘bigger’ goal. It’s another matter that we Indians are good at doing both the scramble and making the ‘bigger’ goal simultaneously (the 2010 commonwealth “fiasco” comes to mind), but is that a good way to live?
I agree with your claim that acceptance – of corruption and electricity/water/other infrastructure problems and a host of other issues – is necessary to live in India. My concern is that in accepting this, are we also subscribing to a goal-oriented lifestyle that requires a scramble at every stage?