India: Week 1

Here are a few lessons I have learned from my first week in India:

1. Time is relative. There is no need to be uptight about your schedule. Its okay to be 15 minutes, 45 minutes, 60 minutes, heck even 2 hours late! “Actually tomorrow would work okay too.”

2. Bathrooms are overrated. “Who needs a stall when you can just whip it out right where you are!”

3. Bargain, bargain, bargain. “Okay, 150 rupees sounds fine. But 80 rupees sounds even better!”

4. If you have a tough decision to make, don’t make it. “Should we take down the temple that’s in the way of the road we’re building, or should we just go around it? Lets just not finish building the road.”

5. When driving through traffic, think of everything as a puzzle. “If it fits, go for it.”

6. When someone makes a side-to-side bobblehead motion, it does not mean “I guess” or “sort of”. That is the Indian way of saying, “yes”.

I am thoroughly enjoying my time here in Vizag. I chose to go to India to experience something different than myself, and boy I got what I asked for.

Time has a way of distorting in India. I don’t know how to describe it. Apart from the driving behavior on the roads, pacing is slower, and I don’t always feel like I have to rush from one place to another. After the first day, I felt like I had been here for much longer. But as slow as time is moving, I know that this will be over before I know it.

I read in my book on the history of the Hindus that one of the staples in the hindu beliefs is that if there is one truth, the exact opposite of that truth exists as well. It hasn’t taken long to witness this belief. The hindu religion is really a hodge podge of beliefs, and there are hardly any rigid rules. If an idea sounds good, they accept it. Take for example my house. The outside is neon green, and similar to some European houses I have seen has a lower surface area touching the ground, and stacks high. But it has a very Indian design in its openness and high ceilings, and rooftop access.

Keeping that in mind, I think of the way that we have been treated here. The Indian people have been

extremely accepting of us Americans. In fact, I can’t tell you how many times already we’ve been asked to be in a “snap”, or picture. I’ve even been asked for my autograph a few times. At first I felt like a celebrity, but then a fellow student described us as an oddity. If we saw a purple man walking down the street in America, we would probably point, wave, crowd around him, asking him for his autograph and take pictures with him.

However nice the attention can be at times, it’s still strange to be the purple man. Especially when the purple man sees the distinctive ghosts of the caste system.

The laws of India forbid the discrimination based on caste, but just like in the US, laws aren’t always as effective as they are intended to be. The program provides for us cooks, and a washerman, all of which are supposed to be from a lower caste. They not only cook some of the highest quality, and delicious food for us, but they also clean our rooms. On occasion our program director will want us to have a more “formal” or “traditional” meal, where we sit on the floor to eat—which includes them serving us our food instead of buffet style, and make sure that our cups are full. I know what you’re thinking: “It sounds a lot like servants to me.” And you’re right. I have servants. Personally, its not as great as it sounds. There is a guilt that comes with having someone do something that you are perfectly able to do. Yes, they are paid to do this, but what makes me feel bad is that due to caste, they will likely not be able to achieve much higher than the life of servants.

We visited the Araku Valley, and we stopped in a small tribal village to gain some sort of insight to life in the small villages outside of the big city. I have seen countless beggars (both adults and children), cows and dogs emaciated from eating the unfortunate amount of trash on the streets, and buildings that look like they are being held together by bamboo rods. Conditions in this village did not seem much better, and as disheartening as these sights there is one more lesson that tells me that these people get by just fine. To celebrate our visit, the villagers were holding a dance in our honor. There was a band with drums and a flute-like instrument, and singer singing. The women danced their local folkdance in a circle around some men freestyling it in the center. The girls from our group were neither pushed, nor gently shoved, but thrust into the dance. Dancing with these villagers, I realized the last lesson:

7. Although things seem to be really bad, its okay to sing, dance, and celebrate life despite its heart wrenching moments.

Below are a few pictures from my adventures so far.

The Wishing Cow. When you ask him questions he does the "Indian Nod", then you make a wish and touch the hump on his back.


Women outside the temple at Viginigram


Women dressing after bathing at the natural spring at a sacred temple.


The Borra Caves



Woman from village in Araku Valley