MJ

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

A Letter to India


When I came to you last year one of the things I asked of you was to grow me up. I’d always known you, a part of you at least, but never like this. You see, my parents left your shores, but never left you. And when I was born you were not there.

I had gotten to know you from afar, seen you through only a handful of lenses, never staying in your borders for more than a month or so. I knew so many stories about you. Stories about your past, stories about gods and heroes, stories about love and hate. They were sad stories, scary stories, stories I didn't always understand. But I was always proud to know you. And those stories never left me.

This year I got to know you in your home, in your neighborhoods, in your villages. I tasted your salt, wept underneath your sky, and played in your dirt. This year you kicked my ass. And I am so much better for it. It is the relationship people have with the soil. The love and affection people are so willing to give. It is life lived daily that has schooled me. These lives they are hard, no doubt, and I marvel at all the lives you have birthed. How are your children by the way? Do you know all their names? It’s amazing how sharp they are.

I wonder about all your wonders, the ones you hide away from passing cameras, cable TV networks and quick-fix development experts. There are so many different sides to you, you confuse me. I am still not able to reconcile all your different faces. Sometimes, you know, you make me sick. You make me angry in ways that make my blood boil. And we all worry about where you will take us.

There is too much to say, so I’ll guess I say, “Thanks,” though they tell me there is no thank-yous between family. Thank you for opening up to me, though really you were always there. It was just me who needed to come find you. Thanks for the cup of chai that was always surely waiting behind every open door and after every awkward moment. It has been real in the truest nature of the word. And it’s true, I don’t know you like that. But maybe one day I will. Maybe one day I can say I do really know you as if I had known you all along.