This morning I was chatting online with a friend from
UWEC and she asked me if I was loving India, because at times she could not truly
tell by reading my blog. I believe that my feelings about this country change
like normal reactions that bend and twist to meet each set of 24 hours: some
days we are exhilarated by life, wishing to brand the memories onto our skin
with the fiery passion that burns within; other days are blurred, sluggish – and
we crave a crumb of Wonderland bread, which will shrink us to nonexistence
until a new day appears. For the past 3 weeks that I have lived in India, my
days pass like they did back home: they bend, burn, blur; I shrink and grow
(metaphorically that is . . . although, with all the rice that is being served
for EVERY SINGLE MEAL, I would not be surprised if the latter verb becomes
literal LOL). However, I have been tipping the scales (ha ha!) with a more
negative tone in my recent blog posts, so I will put balance back into the
Internet recollections of my life and write in an uplifting tone LOL :)
This could be more of a difficult task than you think
since I have been a tormented victim of Chinese water torture, which has been
endlessly inflicted in the dead of night (pun intended LOL) for the past week .
. . My room’s air conditioner is leaking . . . and the inconsistent, yet
continuous drip, drip, drip . . .
dddrrrriiiipppp, DRIP . . . drip, drip . . . is inconsistently, yet
continuously draining my sanity; my brain is becoming soupy – dreams are soggy.
I can’t fathom why I was chosen as a prisoner to endure this cruel punishment .
. . What secret information have I not confessed that needs to be extracted
through force? Except, perhaps, the location of the gecko that has been hiding
in my apartment; I really should have asked him more questions about his past
activities before I allowed him to stay here. It wouldn’t surprise me if this
ambiguous amphibian has a criminal record for breaking-and-entering, since I
came home a few days ago just as he was slithering through the crack of my
bedroom door – into the ONE room he was forbidden to enter. I’m considering a
revocation of the name, Sefah, and instead, call this creature, Tom (as in
Peeping-Tom). My torturers’
efforts will be useless, however, because I never seem to know where Sefah/Tom
is hiding, but we often scare the living $h!t out of one another when we
simultaneously discover the other’s presence in the room :) .
I scream and he scurries. I feel
like a neighborhood bully lol. Scram,
gecko, or I’ll steal your lunch money and give you a knuckle sandwich. Maybe
Sefah/Tom should have checked MY criminal history before deciding to stay :)
Anyways, enough with the critter stories LOL, although I
guarantee that there will be more Sefah stories to come . . . My dripping sanity
was spared by various outings last weekend. On Friday, March 30, my supervisor,
Dr. Sujata Srivastana, invited me out for the evening to do some shopping
around town and have dinner at her house. I was grateful for this invitation as
I was in dire need of something to wear to the Valedictory function the next
day, because the dress had to be a) white, b) off-white/cream, or c) pastel
colors and d) preferably a sari . . . And as far as what was hanging in my
closet, I would have to answer e) None of the above. Sujata was gracious and drove me to various malls on both
sides of Vadodara, but my mood was fickle as I was hot, tired, and hungry . . .
and I didn’t have my dear sister to pack me a diaper bag with snacks, like we
do when we go on shopping expeditions at home J. So the pants were too tight, the tunics too loose, the colors
too bright, the prices too expensive . . . and I vowed to not waste money and
purchase something that I would only wear the following day. Finally I forfeited my shopping needs
to the more pressing need: food (and for those who have been around me when I’m
hungry, you know that I probably saved someone’s life in this decision LOL).
The meal consisted of toasted buns, which were broken
into smaller pieces and dipped into a sort of thick stew that was a blend of
various vegetables, beans, and spices. It was one of the best meals that I have
tasted in India (despite the fact that I had a splicing headache for three days
to follow this traditional, tasty dinner) and the company was equally
wonderful. After dinner, Sujata escorted me to her gate and tried to hail a
rickshaw for me to take back to NISV; the vehicles lacked vacant seats, but had
plenty of intrigued looks to give me. I often feel like a celebrity when I
venture to town because I get bombarded with waves, smiles, stares, whispers,
and get occasional pictures taken; to think that all of this unnecessary
commotion is caused simply by me walking down a street! One man on a motorcycle
even went as far as to pass by me, look back, and then actually turn his
motorcycle around to park the bike in front of me as I waited for a rickshaw.
This confident stranger then proceeded to speak to me in Hindi with a feverish
gaze. “What?” I mutter through amazement and annoyance, “I’m sorry, but what
did you say?” He flashes a smile and replies, “Oh! I was asking you for
directions. I thought that you lived here.” REALLY?!?!
LOL. When I was younger and passing through the stage where every child
wants to be a famous celebrity, I vividly remember my mom telling me that she
would never wish that kind of life for me because it lacks privacy. Little did
she know that she should have added this argument to her reasons why I should
stay home with her instead of traveling abroad again LOL.
The “center-stage” feeling of a celebrity lingered around
my presence for the remainder of the weekend, however, as I was wrapped in a
majestic magenta and blue sari for the Valedictory function Saturday evening. I
have never felt so beautiful . . . One of the teachers at school, and a
blossoming friend, Bhavna, lent me one of her saris to wear to the graduation
ceremony and even came over to my apartment with another teacher/friend, Shweta,
to help me into it. As Bhavna was folding, creasing, wrapping, and pinning the
sari into place so that it hugged all the right places, and exposed the right
amount of skin (which in her book, is quite a bit LOL),
Shweta just kept repeating, “Wow! I can’t wait to see everyone’s reaction to
how good you look!” And it was nice to be greeted throughout the entire evening
with an explosion of compliments about how well I carry a sari. I find that
sometimes the process of actually getting ready and merely moving around in a
gorgeous gown is more exciting than the actual event I’m attending, and this
function was not an exception. The ceremony was like every other graduation I
have attended: hot, long, and on the verge of unbelievable boredom. But it was
a wonderful excuse to dress in traditional Indian fashion and solidify the
bonds that I have been building with the family here at Navrachana
International School.
 |
| New friends: Bhavna, myself, and Shweta |
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