#thingsiloveaboutindia

I am so in love with India.
Why do I feel so at home?  What is it that connects me here?
Honestly, I can't articulate it.  But every day since I arrived I have just been bursting.

I looked at some apartments on Saturday.  I may have found one - a picture of the entryway below.  If I don't find anything I like more, at a better location or price, this is a keeper!  My favorite aspects: the walls of each room are different neon-pastel colored stucco.  On the list of #thingsiloveaboutIndia?  Life is colorful.

Saturday night, I got to walk down MG Road for the first time on my own after dark.  (Don't worry mom, I'm safe).  There is such a rush, such an energy, such a feeling that emerges when the sun goes down.  On the list of #thingsIloveaboutIndia?  Walking through the city - central or village - after dark.

It was Roshen's birthday Saturday, so I met up with a friend (Justine from Zimbabwe/France/England) and we stopped by The Rice Bowl to crash a bit of his party.  It was so fun to show Justine a little bit of the city, my city.  To have friends to meet up with.  On the list of #thingsIloveaboutIndia?  Having a history... and Roshen's giggle.

Post birthday dinner, we headed to meet a friend of Justine's.  As we left The Rice Bowl, she said something like, "Ok so I actually only met this guy once...." Instantly I knew we were going to be taken.  We were taking an auto to an obscure place of town that I had never been, and going to the house of a guy from some French island that she had only met once.  She cajoled me, reassuring that he was the friend of a friend, and I agreed to continue....although as out auto neared Whitefield, and this guy came out to meet us at the corner smelling like smoke, I had my doubts.  Don't worry, though, we made it, and met a lot of neat people.  It was an expat party, which is new to me: I haven't ever really hung out with or had the desire to spend excessive time with foreigners in India - I live in India, why would I want to find an American bubble?  But I decided to be open.  This party that we went to was in celebration of Chile's Independence Day, and there were people from all over the world.  A small group, but I was the only American (one Indian had lived in Minneapolis, though, which was fun). There was an Italian, Chileans, Spaniards, Japanese, Brazilian, Justine, and more.  I spoke Spanish, learned what brought people to India, discussed the caste system, and had a mojito.  On the list of #thingsIloveaboutIndia?  Hearing people's stories...and their reactions to India


This morning, I went to church.  It is held in one of the ritzier hotels downtown, but I tried to keep an open mind.  I was told it was mostly an expat church, and I worked through some of the issues listed above.  But I am glad that I went - totally an international crowd, including Indians, and I met some cool people, including some my age.  Afterwards, I was invited to lunch at the Oberoi, and although I would have loved to chat more, I had plans to go to Visthar...I was glad, though, because I still think it would be difficult for me to justify lunch at the Oberoi.  On the list of #thingsIloveaboutIndia?  The adventure of finding where I belong.


I took an auto to Visthar.  Well, to Kothanur.  Then I walked.  And I'm so glad that I did - my dog Max is still sitting at the same curve in the road as he was when I left in December!

I had a great day hanging out with the girls, reliving memories, being outside, and catching up with some of my friends on staff. As I walked back into town, I passed an old security guard on his bike.  He smiled and waved, and asked a question.  Biju drove by on his motorcycle, honked and waved and shouted hello.  I ran into Francoise on her bycicle, and we stopped to chat.  On the list of #thingsIloveaboutIndia?  Knowing I have a second home and family.  Oh...and girls wearing my sunglasses:

There was one auto at the corner.  And I couldn't convince him to take me home...which was okay, actually, because it was what I needed to convince me to take the bus.  I took the bus regularly before, but haven't taken it this time around and had absolutely no idea which busses to take.  However, I knew the roads now, so I was ready for the bus. I was also ready not to spend more money on transport.  I got on the first, to Ring Road.  However, it dropped me before the ring road, not afterwards.  So I played frog hopper and made my way across to wait for another bus, riding that to Hebbal circle.  Hebbal circle is really a circle, and once I got off the bus I had not a clue where I was or which direction I needed to go.  So I followed in the footsteps of of another girl who didn't seem to know where she was going, and asked a bus that might have been going where I needed to go.  They took me on, took a u-turn, dropped me off, and instructed me to walk across a narrow bridge, over the railroad tracks and wait at the bus stop on the other side.  It was dark now, and the other side was India alive.  SO many people, fruit stands, other vendors.  I bought my first pomegranate (couldn't resist) and asked him where to catch the bus.  He directed me AND told me which number to take, for which I was very thankful.  I am so glad I took the bus, and doubly glad that I didn't know where I was going....but that, now, I do know.  On the list of #thingsiloveaboutindia? Public Transportation (most people from my "new India life" would laugh...but it's true, I do!)

Wait - Jen is White?

As established yesterday, I have been here for 2 weeks now.  (Well, 16 days if you are my immigration officer).

Today at lunch, Divya commented on how weird it was having this white American girl in front of her eating rice with her hands.  Suma turned and goes, "Ok, so today for the first time, I have realized that you are white."

Divya looked up in mock shock:  "Wait - Jen is white?"

I said, "Suma.  I have been here 2 weeks.  You just realized this?"
Suma explained that she has recognized that people look at us when we were out, but all this time she has been wondering why.  And why it seemed to be a different kind of look.  Today, it clicked.  "They look at you, and then they look at me.  It is like they are amazed to be seeing a foreigner, and then wondering what I am doing with you.  It isn't just a glance - it is a different kind of look."

This was interesting, as clearly it's something that I realize (and am accustomed to) everywhere I go.  It is less this time around, and I think that can be accounted for by an increasing number of expatriates here in Bangalore.  But yes, I am still stared at.  I was wondering if they ever felt strange being with me, or realized if we are treated differently, but wanted to wait until they said something.

As we walked back to work, we passed through a large group of women heading the opposite direction. We were all acutely aware of their looks, the giggles.  "Why does it matter?  You're just white."

"Jen, I am going to make you a T-shirt" said Divya.  It will say, "I have white skin, and I have blonde hair.  But otherwise I am just like you."

FRRO (Warning, this is extremely long)

In India, there is a law that reads something to the extent of "If you are here on an employment or student visa and you will be here for more than 6 months, you have to register with the foreign regional registration office within 14 days of entering the country".

Since I arrived 2 weeks (yes, 14 days) ago, we have been on the ground running, trying to take advantage of as many work things as possible.  The FRRO had to happen, but we knew we had time.  So last week my coworker and I went online and downloaded the list of required documents so that when my boss returned from traveling he could sign them and we would be all ready to go.  We were lucky, too, because the office was listed as just down the lane from our office.

So when the big guy returned, he signed the documents and we hopped in the car to the office of the Police Commissioner...what do you know, there was a sign in the office that said, "FRRO moved to Double Road, Indira Nagar".  Should this be a surprise?  No, but for some reason we assumed that everything would be as they told us.  So we got back into the car and drove across the city in lunchtime traffic to Double Road, where they would admit only me, the one with the passport.  I stood in line, got my token, and was informed that the application I had wasn't correct and the one I was to fill out was actually from 1999 and had been photocopied about 1,200 times so the font was so blurry it couldn't even be read.  Not only that, but I was given a list of even MORE documents that were needed...luckily I had a few days left before I hit day 14!

This list included some crazy things - like proof of a PAN card.  But to apply for a PAN card, you need a bank account...and to apply for a bank account, you need a PAN card.  Oy vey.  Over the next few days I spent a LOT of time in our accountant's office, because they could pull strings for us to get all the logistics done. Each time we repeated the list of what we needed and by which date, and on Saturday they assured me that I would have my PAN acknowledgement and a photocopy of the ID card of the man who is leasing my apartment.  She said, "I will call you and let you know what time to come on Monday."

So here we are on Monday.   It is 10:30 and I haven't heard from her yet.  I gave her a call, and she said, "Oh, I am glad you called.  I need just a few more signatures - can you come?"  I came.  I was brought back to the bank, signed a few more things, and congratulations! I had a bank account and could apply for my PAN card.  She said, ok madam you are finished.  I said, "No - I need the acknowledgement of the PAN and I need that photo ID - you said both would be here this morning."

She said, "Madam, didn't he talk to you on Saturday?  We don't have a copy of the photo id because it was all given in hard copy and submitted - we don't have any copies."  PROBLEM: this guy is in Turkey.  The rest of his family is around the globe.  Most are in countries where it is 1am.  We can't reach anyone - what do we do?  After some panicking, we found an "if/or" clause and prayed that it would provide the loophole we needed.

As for the PAN acknowledgement, she sent her guy to go submit it to the office.  We waited 45 minutes, had some delicious coffee (I will miss that coffee, but I will not miss the CA's office!), and then realized that the guy didn't bring his phone.  We needed to leave by 1 at the latest...it was 1230.  So, she sent another guy to find that guy, and he reported that the first guy decided to go to an office further away because the office he went to first had a ridiculous wait.  We decided to leave.  She typed an official letter saying that we had applied so that at least we had SOMETHING.  This got her yelled at by her boss...for like 15 minutes while I sat avoiding eye contact with every Indian in the room looking at me and thinking "Who the heck is this white girl and what kind of problems is she causing?"  Finally, we got the letter.  We ran out of the office.  She promised to email it the acknowledgement as soon as she got it.

We drove like crazies to Indira Nagar - if we didn't make it by 2, I couldn't register.  This would increase my chances of deportation, which isn't ideal.  

Got in at 1:40.  I took my number....229.  They were on 180.  Awesome....50 to go.  After 20 minutes, my phone vibrated.  The PAN had come!  Suma texted...and went to get copies printed (she had her own issues there, but that would just increase my already long story) and handed them off to me in front of the office.  Finally - my application is complete.

I realized that I was not waiting in the right area, so I climbed the stairs to a (thankfully) air conditioned room full of weary looking expatriates.  I asked a blonde one what I was supposed to do: go to counter 1.  I went...and was informed that it was lunchtime and services would resume when they were finished. Of course. 

Once lunch was finished, I was the 3rd in line to submit my documents for approval.  The man looked over everything, and with a sigh of relief watched him check off every requirement (even as the couple next to me was asked for a photo id of the leaser).  But then he started counting dates on the calendar.  and again.  and again.  And he said, 14 days, madam.  I said yes sir, today is exactly 2 weeks since I arrived.  14 days.  He counted again.  It has been 15 madam.  You arrived in New Delhi at 4pm and you must register 14 days.  We argued for a bit...but to no avail.  Now before you wonder if I was going to be deported, worry not.  He gave me a piece of paper and a pen and said, "Write a letter."  A letter of apology that I had not registered before.  I needed a few special signatures, and I was sent to the next counter.

And then another counter.

At this counter, she did many things.  Double checked my passport, went through my document yet again.  Then wrote on a piece of paper and said, "Go to the bank.  Get a DD. Bring it back to me."  I said, "What is a DD?"  She said, "They will know."

I ran down the stairs and out into the street.  It was starting to drizzle.  Where is a bank? I asked the guard.  He motioned down the street and said there was one on the left at the next signal.  I reached the next signal - the rain is harder - and there was no bank.  So I started asking on the street, continuing towards the next signal and the next (thankful I was dressed like an Indian today so I could wrap my dupatta around my head and shoulders to keep myself a bit dry).  Finally, a foreign bank.  I gave them the slip, paid them the money, had to get signatures from every desk in the building, and headed back outside.

It was monsooning.

I made a run for it, but before long I had to take shelter.  It really wasn't worth it.  So for 35 minutes, a shared a small thing with a roof (I really don't know what it was) with two men, a woman, 3 children, and 2 dogs.  I kept thinking, it will stop in 5 minutes.  I called Suma after a while and she said, "Don't get drenched - it will stop in 5 minutes"  I said, that's what I've been telling myself for the past 20 minutes ;)  

I absolutely love getting caught in monsoons.  It's one of my favorite things about India.  Even today, I just stood and soaked it in (no pun intended).  I had my iphone and kept trying to capture the feeling of monsoon but nothing I caught does it justice.  Here is one snap, though:

Finally, it let up enough to run.  So I made it back to the FRRO, dripping wet, and had to show my passport yet again.  "They have all my documents upstairs" I explained.  "DD?  You need a photocopy" They told me.  

Awesome.

Thankfully, I could make copies next door.  Which means I gave the man the DD (I still don't know what that is, by the way) and 2 rupees and he put the paper in the Xerox machine for me...and it was so old it took about 4 minutes to make a copy :)  Only in India.

I went back, stood in line again, and was sent to a different counter to give a man the DD.  He took it and sent me back the other counter, where I gave the photocopy.  She said ok, please sit and wait.  I will call you.  So I sat.

By this time, they were almost on token #229.

She called me and handed me a paper.  Please check this, she said, but sit, don't check it here.  I checked it for inconsistencies, and stood up, waited in line, and gave it back to her.  She looked, and gave it back to me.

"Okay, madam."

"Oh - I am finished?"

"Yes, madam."

"This paper is my registration"

"Yes, madam."

So there it is, the whole saga.  If you have ever complained about the DMV, I invite you to try immigrating.   I know that other people have to go through a lot more in order to immigrate, and I am thankful that mine was just inefficient and time-consuming (although sometimes I felt like I was on the Amazing Race).

However, that doesn't mean that we didn't celebrate with Cornerhouse hot chocolate fudge sundaes.  And it doesn't mean that I'm not exhausted.

Can't wait to do it again in 6 months!

Clash of Cultures

Today, two worlds collided.  And lest you be deceived by the title of the post, please note that my own personal American culture had nothing to do with the clash.  Rather, it was a clash of two Indian cultures; two worlds that I experienced within 5 hours.

I spent the day at my old NGO, and it was a joy and a privilege to surprise the girls when I walked onto their campus this morning.  As I got close, I could hear the murmers and questions, “That looks like Jen-aunty - Is that Jen-aunty?” and then, running: “Jen-aunty!”  There were lots of hugs, some tears (none from me), and much happiness.  One of the first things that Rajeshwariya did was start combing my hair, and don’t worry mom, I’ve already checked for lice.  They have moved to a new dorm, still living around 20 to a room on bamboo floor mats, rotating kitchen shifts, doing chores, and studying during every free moment.  The homework the 16/17 year old girls were working on?  Learning the parts of a computer (monitor, speaker, keyboard, CPU, hard drive, etc.) and duplicating them in a poster board sketch.  We had a very rough medical information session on high blood pressure (which was pretty inapplicable since most of the girls are rail-thin and they don’t eat anything but the rice of the day...they don’t even have access to the soda, fried foods, etc. that were being warned against in the session as the causes of “the silent killer”), and came back to eat rice and chicken curry (a Sunday treat) with our fingers out of tin plates.

Fast forward through an incredible, fun, and exhausting day to my evening meeting at the apartment of a girl who wants to go abroad but whose father has his doubts.

We parked the car outside of the gate because there was no room in the underground parking lot and walked in to a posh apartment with music blaring (Queen and the Rolling Stones).  Were offered whiskey and wine (whiskey seems to be the Indian drink of choice), nachos, finger veggies (that we ate with a fork), sausages on toothpicks and fried cheese balls.  The father talked about his time working in fashion merchandising (and when I say fashion, I don’t mean Hanes her Way.  I’m talking Oscar de la Renta here), and the daughter’s iphone rang during our conversation.  We gave her a hard time for being 16 and having an iphone...at which she told us that she has had a phone since 5th grade, all her friends have iphones, and her father interjected with his opinion that mac is the best and that is why they all need their iphones, macbook pros, ipads, and macbook airs.  And how wonderful it is that we can now run a Google search for finding study programs in the U.S. instead of needing to go to the library to look through the college board review.

Wealth - and lack of it - in India is absolutely mind-boggling.  We’re looking at 16 year old girls who live just a bus ride down the road from each other living such vastly different lives and anticipating completely different futures.  I think that is the part that is incomprehensible is not that there are people who are filthy rich, and not that there are people who are more than dirt poor, but that these two groups live side-by-side.

P.S. Today I also met the new batch of students from the program I worked with last fall, AND played my first game of cricket today.  For our at-bat, I was the first batter.  And stayed batting through to our very last out.  I bowled pretty well too, and have determined that I have finally found my athletic calling.  Several also say it confirms that I really am an Indian...who just happens to be white.

Living in a Dream World

Well today was a blast from the past.  I heard from Sid on Thursday that Roshen wanted to hang out with us on Saturday - was I free?  He didn’t even need to ask...I’m clearly always free for a triple date with Sid and Roshen.  The most exciting part was when Roshen texted, though, asking if I meeting at 4pm outside of Gangaram’s was ok.  I got butterflies in my stomach and almost squealed, “EEEEEEE” from my air-conditioned car.   Gangaram’s is a multi-level bookstore; what better place to meet Rosh than at a bookstore.  For old time’s sake.  But when I got there, we didn’t even step inside.  I heard him giggling before I even saw him, and he swept me into a hug and away over to India Coffeehouse, where we chatted quite awhile until, “Jen, I think we have exhausted our white privilege here, and we should move on to another coffee shop.”  Siddo met us at Coffee Day, and we caught everyone up on everyone else’s work...then moved to the Empire for dinner, where we hemmed and hawed and laughed and groaned over last year’s program, and finally on to Cornerhouse, which is simply the best ice cream I have ever tasted.  They have changed their sizing since I left in December, too - a regular is now 3 scoops, a junior size 2.  Same prices.  Booya.

Sometimes I feel like I am living in a dream.  As we were walking down the street to part ways, I finally verbalized what I had been feeling all night long - all week, even: “Guys, isn’t it weird that I live here now???”  Roshen just giggled.  

Sometimes I wait for something to happen to break the surreal feeling of it all, but as I rode on the back of the bike down back country roads, the Indian evening breeze whipping through my hair, it was pretty hard to believe that I had ever left at all.

A Full Friday

I feel as if I lived 3 days today.  And as I looked out the raindropped window at the crazy Bangalore traffic, I almost had to pinch myself.  This is like a dream.  It is so unbelievable that I live here.

We started the day with a visit to one of the public schools in Bangalore. We presented to and spoke with first the 12th standard and second the 11th.  It was awesome.  Awesome to get inside their heads, encourage their dreams, share with them opportunities that they may have to achieve them.

Then I met a government commissioner.  And I thought he was a pretty cool guy.  I mostly listened, but we talked education in India.  What does India have, what does it need.  How do we meet those needs, how can the government help us meet those needs.  He was very intent upon opening access to education for those who do not have it, and he warmed my heart.  A few days ago, I met someone who works for the Education USA (a cultural exchange of the State Department) and invited us to the consulate in Chennai.  I can’t believe the people I am meeting...or how even the most unanticipated people have connections and insight / input to your work.

Later, we went to UB City.  UB City is a place that I never stepped foot in the last time I was here - it is the high end shopping mall / restaurants.  Think Burberry, Louis Vuitton, Botega Veneta.  The apple store.  This is a whole different India.  We met a designer, and you could tell from his appearance the he was, indeed, a designer.  How I would envision Mark Jacobs or Mr. Valentino when they aren’t tuxed up:  Black top, dark jeans.  A few bracelets, salt and pepper beard.  He’s sold his successful design business, and is now working with artisans and crafts, several different brands, and trying to start a work skills program so that these gifted people can learn how to turn their craft into something profitable.  Awesome.  

And....I am exhausted.

Ganesha

Today was Ganesha’s birthday.  Ganesha is the elephant god in Hinduism, but he wasn’t always an elephant.  He was a god who lost his head due to one circumstance or another, but the head was luckily able to be replaced with an elephant head.  Ganesha rose above his obstacles to prosper, and for this reason is one of the most dearly loved gods of the Hindus.  And if you know anything of the history and situations of the Indian people, you understand the importance of prospering in spite of obstacles.

As I learned more about the festival and watched people bowing and praying earnestly to a small man-made elephant painted neon colors, I was struck by several things:

1. Someone told me that, beyond the celebration of Ganesha’s birthday, the purpose of the festival, and why many people celebrate, is to bring the community together.  So under the guise of community health and happiness, people worship an idol.  My thought: couldn’t we just have a block party?   
2. Many people don’t really believe in what they are doing, they bow down just because it is tradition or custom or fun, but they are still bowing down.  Which reminds me of (a) Christmas and (b) passages from the Bible that speak of worshipping in the right attitude, and worshipping in spirit and in truth.  Let’s tackle Christmas first...I could see many similarities.  It is the birthday of a god (Ganesha) / God (Jesus).  It is carefully prepared for by meticulous decorating, baking, and shopping.  Every part of the tradition is symbolic.  Gifts are brought from house to house.  Oh, and many people who celebrate Christmas don’t do so as the celebration of the birth of Christ; they celebrate for the sake of a celebration and community event that shares love and goodwill.  Hmmm.  And as for the latter thought, well, why would Ganesha want people worshipping him who don’t even believe that he is real?
3. Throughout the summer, I have been learning a lot about the curse of the Law and freedom in Christ.  Having this experience on Day 3 back in India reminds me even more of the freedom that is found in the new covenant that God makes with us through Jesus.  Today people were bowing, praying, offering sacrifices, burning candles, tying bracelets, all in an effort to find Ganesha’s favor and blessing.  Living in relationship with Christ, however, requires none such actions.  Rather, it makes it clear that faith is what saves us: “All who rely on observing the law are under a curse.  Clearly no one is justified before God by the law, because, ‘the righteous will live by faith’.  The law is not based on faith.  Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us. He redeemed us so that by faith we might receive the promise of the Spirit” (Galatians 3:10-14).  Even when looking at the Old Testament, the era of the Law, we see that “God’s covenant with Abraham wasn’t made because Abraham had obeyed a law, but because his faith in God made him righteous.  If Abraham and his descendants were given this promise because they had obeyed a law, then faith would mean nothing, and the covenant would be worthless” (Romans 4:13-14).  In what other religion do we find such freedom?
4. However, I was also speaking with somebody from Hindu culture, but not religious, and they mentioned that one thing they like about Hinduism as it is practiced in the mainstream today (thinking beyond caste tradition and historical social issues and in comparison with other religions) is that there is little to no hierarchy, reducing the amount of legalism, judgement, and “status quo” that they have observed in institutionalized Christianity and Islam. Hmmmmm.
5. Think about life in the United States and, those of you who are churched, what you are taught when you read, “Thou shalt not make for thyself an idol.”  Immediately you are advised that God should always be #1 in your life, and you shouldn’t replace Him with money, sports, success, relationships, etc.  But hardly ever do we realize that people still believe and live in literal idol worship today.  It’s a thing of the past, something that most (even those outside Christian circles) would consider strange or archaic.  But here in India, it is alive and well.  Gods adorn buildings, doors, jewelry, artwork.  Hindu mythology deeply impacts every aspect of human life.  It is a mentality that is deeply intriguing, but also mind-boggling.