There are some things that don’t change. Wandering through random villages in Kerala, it feels as if I know a part of this. Greeting villagers along the way, having the same conversations that I have had all year – about who I am, and what I do, and why I came to India. And while this place is completely new, there is something that anchors me in the lives of the people I am passing through. Whether it be for a few hours, or only a few minutes. The reality, however, is that I have never been here. To this place where Christianity, communism, and social conservatism all mix. Being invited to share a cup and join stories for some time. And sure, some things do change, the milky chai of the North is many miles and states away from this clear, unadultered Kerala tea.
A whole lot of the travel that has facilitated the adventures of the past couple weeks has been on buses. I never ever thought about seeing so many bus stations in this country. But being on buses and surrounded by people at all hours of day and night who are also into examining reality from masala-justice-seeking lenses there is a lot that comes up, inside and out. From the people you meet to the observations you make. On a bus going through Goa, I witnessed a side of India I had never imagined. From the clothes to the churches to the relative wealth. And as we passed mandirs along the road I noticed the different handsignals in prayer that fellow passengers would offer up. Combinations of touching one's head and ears and chest. A variation from the Himalayan region I have spent the last year in. An observation that would have not been as interesting a year ago. There are countless thoughts and conversations as the frames roll by on the other side of each window. On wealth and privilege, urban and rural, travel and tourism, gender and class, language and bonds.
There is a connection I feel with rural India. After a year of living and working in Himalayan villages there is an understanding that exists of what that world is like, a rural one. An understanding better than any I have ever had in the past. And while there is no way I can say I know what people’s lives are actually like, there is something I feel. About people, and those that work the land, and what life is about. And maybe it’s just my own ignorance breaking in front of me. But passing through villages and meeting people from all sorts of different backgrounds, there are bridges that I have learned how to cross, from Kumaon to Kerala.
It is a strange thing being so mobile. The freedom and fluidity of movement that is allowed to me and my comrades as we traverse this country is for sure, new and exciting. After being in India for over a year and spending the overwhelming majority of that time in one place, to be able to travel (a whole lot) and see a whole lot is beautiful. But it is also a reminder of other things. Of social status, and opportunity, and where we are coming from, things that I was certainly aware of before, but comfortable with in my role as community organizer. To be able to walk into bars and clubs in the wealthier parts of Bombay, and still be able to relate to folks in rural settings. To be able to sit down in any village and have that cup of tea and know this time around that this is what it is really about. From run-ins with the police to trying to hitchhike a ride, to know when to say I am from Delhi, we are from India, and to know when to say I am from the US, we are NRIs. The fact that we can go back and forth. from villages, to bars, and clubs, and restauraunts, and back. And what's the deal with such intense airconditioning? I won't even go there. But how to reconcile all of the above worlds, all of what has been opened up this past year? And how to seriously navigate living with contradiction?
On of the most touristy beaches I’ve been to in my life, in southern Kerala, the constant question came up, “Are we still in India?” Allusions were made to apartheid South Africa, maybe not in full seriousness, but the juxtaposition of white women in bikinis and Indian women in saris posed more than enough fodder for discussion. For gender norms in a place like India, after a year in the village, on a beach catering towards Europeans, well... need I say more? And the discussions never seemed to stop. They would be picked up and left off impromptu, whenever the thoughts sprang to mind. And to discuss with other Indians and NRIs alike, who feel passionately about the choices they have made in their lives. About engaging on a different level, about the opportunies and access allotted to us, yet denied to so many more. From the recognition of the untapped potential of Indian youth, to the criticisms and passionate discourse on elite Indian society and the value placed on the abundant Westernization of Indian cities, towns and villages. To hear it from those these folks who are coming from a space of greater understanding has been just as enriching as the sites, smells, and sounds of the subcontinent.
The venues of adventure have certainly been striking, and diverse. There were the beaches of Karnataka, empty and peaceful, anything but the hullabaloo of Varkala.The fishermen and fisherwomen on the beach. Their bodies worked with work. Uncasting nets. Tourism doesn’t seem to fit into this, that is claiming spaces without interaction or understanding. In the forests of Kerala, pondering the sickle and hammers flying from every other corner or store from the city of Cochin to backwater villages. And this state that has successfully been able to provide quality education to its youth, to successfully battle illiteracy, and provide better healthcare than most states in India. Comparing the cities of the South to the North, and feeling the connecting threads of India weaving it all together. It has been amazing. And I feel pretty good to have done it the way we did. Rocking the public transportation system. Breaking out seven different languages when we needed to make our way out of a jam, or just onto the next destination. A group of eight, ten, twelve Indian youth, who look not from around these parts, yet simaltanueously break into Kannada, Konkani, Hindi, Gujarati, Marathi, Malyalam, and everyone’s favorite English. I was constantly amused by the bewildered look of those on the receiving end of the verbal assault. Going from north to south trying to break down all of these changes in culture and attitude and language and food, and being able to see it freshly from each others eyes.
And still, there are still many more trains to catch and people to catch up with. It just keeps going on, as if coming down from the Himalayas to the coasts of Kerala is only one part in everything that has already constituted adventure this year. And so do the thoughts and visions of what it all means. But the next steps for now, are for family, and friends, and all those we meet along the way.
A whole lot of the travel that has facilitated the adventures of the past couple weeks has been on buses. I never ever thought about seeing so many bus stations in this country. But being on buses and surrounded by people at all hours of day and night who are also into examining reality from masala-justice-seeking lenses there is a lot that comes up, inside and out. From the people you meet to the observations you make. On a bus going through Goa, I witnessed a side of India I had never imagined. From the clothes to the churches to the relative wealth. And as we passed mandirs along the road I noticed the different handsignals in prayer that fellow passengers would offer up. Combinations of touching one's head and ears and chest. A variation from the Himalayan region I have spent the last year in. An observation that would have not been as interesting a year ago. There are countless thoughts and conversations as the frames roll by on the other side of each window. On wealth and privilege, urban and rural, travel and tourism, gender and class, language and bonds.
There is a connection I feel with rural India. After a year of living and working in Himalayan villages there is an understanding that exists of what that world is like, a rural one. An understanding better than any I have ever had in the past. And while there is no way I can say I know what people’s lives are actually like, there is something I feel. About people, and those that work the land, and what life is about. And maybe it’s just my own ignorance breaking in front of me. But passing through villages and meeting people from all sorts of different backgrounds, there are bridges that I have learned how to cross, from Kumaon to Kerala.
It is a strange thing being so mobile. The freedom and fluidity of movement that is allowed to me and my comrades as we traverse this country is for sure, new and exciting. After being in India for over a year and spending the overwhelming majority of that time in one place, to be able to travel (a whole lot) and see a whole lot is beautiful. But it is also a reminder of other things. Of social status, and opportunity, and where we are coming from, things that I was certainly aware of before, but comfortable with in my role as community organizer. To be able to walk into bars and clubs in the wealthier parts of Bombay, and still be able to relate to folks in rural settings. To be able to sit down in any village and have that cup of tea and know this time around that this is what it is really about. From run-ins with the police to trying to hitchhike a ride, to know when to say I am from Delhi, we are from India, and to know when to say I am from the US, we are NRIs. The fact that we can go back and forth. from villages, to bars, and clubs, and restauraunts, and back. And what's the deal with such intense airconditioning? I won't even go there. But how to reconcile all of the above worlds, all of what has been opened up this past year? And how to seriously navigate living with contradiction?
On of the most touristy beaches I’ve been to in my life, in southern Kerala, the constant question came up, “Are we still in India?” Allusions were made to apartheid South Africa, maybe not in full seriousness, but the juxtaposition of white women in bikinis and Indian women in saris posed more than enough fodder for discussion. For gender norms in a place like India, after a year in the village, on a beach catering towards Europeans, well... need I say more? And the discussions never seemed to stop. They would be picked up and left off impromptu, whenever the thoughts sprang to mind. And to discuss with other Indians and NRIs alike, who feel passionately about the choices they have made in their lives. About engaging on a different level, about the opportunies and access allotted to us, yet denied to so many more. From the recognition of the untapped potential of Indian youth, to the criticisms and passionate discourse on elite Indian society and the value placed on the abundant Westernization of Indian cities, towns and villages. To hear it from those these folks who are coming from a space of greater understanding has been just as enriching as the sites, smells, and sounds of the subcontinent.
The venues of adventure have certainly been striking, and diverse. There were the beaches of Karnataka, empty and peaceful, anything but the hullabaloo of Varkala.The fishermen and fisherwomen on the beach. Their bodies worked with work. Uncasting nets. Tourism doesn’t seem to fit into this, that is claiming spaces without interaction or understanding. In the forests of Kerala, pondering the sickle and hammers flying from every other corner or store from the city of Cochin to backwater villages. And this state that has successfully been able to provide quality education to its youth, to successfully battle illiteracy, and provide better healthcare than most states in India. Comparing the cities of the South to the North, and feeling the connecting threads of India weaving it all together. It has been amazing. And I feel pretty good to have done it the way we did. Rocking the public transportation system. Breaking out seven different languages when we needed to make our way out of a jam, or just onto the next destination. A group of eight, ten, twelve Indian youth, who look not from around these parts, yet simaltanueously break into Kannada, Konkani, Hindi, Gujarati, Marathi, Malyalam, and everyone’s favorite English. I was constantly amused by the bewildered look of those on the receiving end of the verbal assault. Going from north to south trying to break down all of these changes in culture and attitude and language and food, and being able to see it freshly from each others eyes.
And still, there are still many more trains to catch and people to catch up with. It just keeps going on, as if coming down from the Himalayas to the coasts of Kerala is only one part in everything that has already constituted adventure this year. And so do the thoughts and visions of what it all means. But the next steps for now, are for family, and friends, and all those we meet along the way.
wow gaurav, nice. i feel a really intense urge to be back on those buses and trains, still having those conversations.
ReplyDelete~meghana