More Of What I Learned In India

It’s another India entry! I’m going to write this entry like I did one of my others, in vignette form. There will be short stories and observations with no particular order or relevance to each other.

First up is a Star Trek reference. In India? Yes! I kept hearing this word in Hindi which sounded so much like Ferenghi that I found it amusing. In Star Trek there is a race of alien people who are very strange, obsessed with money, wealth, and material possessions, and who treat women like objects. The Hindi word ferenghi means simply ‘foreigner.’ Coincidence? I think not. My Indian friends would use it when explaining to us why we got charged so much, like ‘Well, they saw a ferenghi coming so the price went up.’ They were very impressed when I caught on and was able to use it so easily, in just the right context, and pronounce it so well. All those years of watching Star Trek finally paid off!

Another language thing: Yes is ‘Ha.’ I really like this. When someone is giving directions, the person receiving them just wiggles their head and says ‘Ha… Ha… Ha-ha… Ha-ha-ha…’ and before you know it, everyone is laughing!

Now I might have already written about this, but Indian’s have a special bit of body language that is difficult to get used to, and I’m not sure I ever really did. The way they indicate that something is true, or acceptable, or ok, much like we mean when we nod, is by doing what I like to call the head wiggle, or wobble. To have a good understanding of what I mean, without making any other rotations or movements, look straight ahead and tilt your head to the right until your right ear is closer to your right shoulder. Then tilt the other way, until your left ear is closer to your left shoulder. Then repeat. That is the basic motion, but they do it much faster, and more subtly than you just did. They don’t move their head much, just a little wobble. And it is much more fluid than you can do it.

The tricky part for us ferenghis, other than doing the motion itself, is that to us it looks remarkably like they are shaking their head ‘no.’ As you can imagine, this leads to many many confusing situations. It was hard for me to interpret, but I did try to get the motion down, because it is so prevalent.

Now combine them. When someone wobbles their head while they are saying ‘Ha-ha-ha…’ Well, there isn’t much that can top that.

I did hear one person (an Indian himself) explain that he thought them most accurate ‘translation’ of the head wiggle is ‘I hear you, but I think you’re an idiot.’ I think he might be onto something.

On a random note: I’d like to send a shout out to any Aussies who are reading this. I don’t know if you still are, but I heard there was a contingent of one of my coworker’s relatives from Australia reading my blog to learn more about her experiences. Gotta love the inter-web.

Along the same ‘wow… internet’ lines: I had more than a couple moments of awe thinking about how ‘futuristic’ things from not many years ago can be commonplace today. Even 10 or 15 years ago, the concept of a video phone was still science fiction. It is amazing to me that from India, half way around the world, I was able to make high quality video calls over the internet. Not only that, but it was completely free and unlimited! Compare that with what a regular international long distance phone call would have cost just a decade ago.

A really interesting thing over there was the role shades of skin played a regular role in daily life. Apparently, lighter, fairer skin is looked upon very highly over there. It wasn’t uncommon to hear something along the lines of ‘oh, you can wear that to the club, because you have light skin.’ It wasn’t because you were a foreigner or tourist; it was actually because your skin was lighter. Lest you should think I am exaggerating, the next time you are in India, go to any pharmacy (or chemist or compounder as they are called), and look on the shelves. Skin lightening cream will be easily visible on the shelves. It made me sad when I saw that, especially because I think the people over there are so beautiful, both inside and out. But I guess Dr. Seuss was right: If you have a star on your tummy, you wish you didn’t, and if your tummy is blank, you want nothing more than a star on it! Then there’s the other Star Trek reference of the black on the left, white on the right people hating the white on the left, black on the right people. People…

As long as I’m on my way to a full blown rant… Is it me or does it seem like there are more and more people out there who are more and more crazy? I often wonder that humanity can continue to ‘function’ even as well as it does. End mini-rant.

One of the most interesting moments I had over there was sitting in an auto rickshaw with one of my co-workers. And I use the term co-worker loosely because I wouldn’t really call my time over there work. I’m not really sure where we were all on our way to, but I was glad to have a local paired with me in the mini-cab because I always felt my odds of getting to where I was trying to go were better with someone who spoke at least one of the various languages. So we were riding along, shooting the breeze as the breeze shot through our hair. She’d heard me talk about Rachel, so she politely asked not-too-specific questions about her.

I should divert for just a bit at this point to mention that relationships are not talked about very openly over there. I didn’t realize this at first, and assumed the people I was interacting with (a lot) weren’t in relationships, because they didn’t talk about their S.O.’s (at all). Then little by little, I would learn (either because they would say something, or someone else would mention something) that in fact they were in relationships, some of them serious. I never really got the hang of where that invisible line was. I hope I wasn’t offensive at all, but I never got any reactions that indicated I was, so I think it was ok.

I think this level of discretion was why my auto-buddy was being vague in her questions about Rachel, but I could tell she was very curious about how things worked in my culture. As I usually wear my emotions and opinions on my sleeve (is that why I’m not good at poker?), I encouraged her to ask anything she wanted to know. It took a while, but she eventually got a lot of good info.

Then came the big one. She asked ‘Is it a love marriage?’ I didn’t know how to respond, because I didn’t have any idea what she was talking about. Are Rachel and I in love with each other? Of course! But that isn’t what she was talking about. I cocked my head to the side and got a puzzled look on my face, and then it clicked. Silly me had forgotten the luxury of being able to choose one’s own mate. She was asking if Rachel and I chose each other, or if the impending marriage had been arranged.

Woah. It was so interesting to me that something I never would have assumed about anyone from any of my interrelated cultures and subcultures was not only possible in the culture I was visiting, it was commonly practiced.

Thus began a conversation, back and forth, where we each explained how and when marriages are and were arranged or not arranged in our cultures. I learned so much! And I also realize, as I write this, that I have a much better understanding than I can possibly convey to you. Which isn’t to say that I won’t try, but when you watch someone’s face as they speak, and listen to the tone of their words, and the pauses, you have a much better understanding than when someone then interprets that, remembers it, and writes it. There is so much that went between the words I can’t begin to describe.

She said there are fewer and fewer arranged marriages these days in India, but she still thought it was somewhere in the ballpark of half the new marriages were arranged. More among traditional families, of course.

Let’s just take a moment to think about the words ‘Love Marriage.’ If that is the term used for half of the marriages in India, how do you think it makes the other half feel? Picture someone asking one of them ‘Is it a love marriage?’ and they try to hide their sigh as they say ‘No, it was arranged.’ And some of them had people they were in love with, but their families had other plans.

Imagine growing up in modern India, watching all the Disney movies about perfect weddings, and knowing that the two options were an arranged marriage or a love marriage… Which would you want?

And now the most interesting part: She said that some love marriages are arranged… wink-wink. What does that mean? Well what if, conveniently for your happiness, your parents met with your boyfriend or girlfriend’s parents and decided that the person you just happened to be in a relationship with was the very person that they wish to arrange for you to marry. Imagine the coincidence! I think it is probably a great solution. The parents get to tell all of their friends and family that the marriage has been arranged, preserving tradition and showing how much their son or daughter respects them, and the children don’t have to resent their parents for the rest of their life because they wouldn’t allow them to marry the person they love.

I must admit it is hard for me to imagine being in a relationship with someone I love (ok, that part isn’t hard), and having my parents tell me I can’t marry them, and must instead marry someone I have never really met. It must be terrible. Especially if the resulting marriage is not, shall we say, happily ever after. But, maybe if you grow up in that culture, and watch everyone else enter into arranged marriages, you know that any relationship you might find yourself in is subject to cancelation, and maybe you are more prepared than, say, I would be. I imagine Indians pursuing their studies abroad tend to not date ferenghis because it would just be too hard to make them understand. Just a guess.

I treasure my time and friends in India not because I now understand their culture completely, but because I understand how little I understand.

And now for something completely different:

I went to a restaurant while I was there that was pretty close to the Diamond District, but was not too upscale or touristy. It wasn’t quite a hole in the wall, but it was authentic food from a region of India that was different from where I was staying. They had good fish and amazing breads that I fell in love with. The fish was very spicy, and I much amused the people I was with by my facial contortions. For some reason we were always the first customers there, I guess because we are used to eating earlier than most Indians. The most interesting thing that happened there was that as soon as we were seated, they would light this very densely smoking incense and carry it all around the restaurant, waving it too and fro, hither and dither. It was kind of like what I have seen in some church services. But it was so thick I felt like I was choking. And it wasn’t a good smell. Hmmm... never figured that one out. There was also a towel by the sink outside the bathroom there. The first time I was there I made the mistake of using it after I washed my hands. I think there was more bacteria on it than in all the tap water in India. Didn’t make that mistake again.

Finally I’ll leave you with this: I’ve become something of an Indiaphile since coming back, so I find myself being drawn to novels that take place in India. I just finished one that was incredible good, and I would have recommended it without hesitation until about two thirds of the way through. Then everything went to hell, and it became one of the saddest stories I have ever read. Still good, but heart wrenchingly, inhumanly tragic. If you still want to read it, then it is called ‘A Fine Balance.’ I’m not joking around here. It made me cry. A lot. And I don’t usually (ever?) cry from books. Consider yourself warned. If you read it and think ‘Oh, silly Benjie, that wasn’t so sad… what a good book!’ Then I also recommend to you ‘The Road,’ which is also one of the saddest and best books I have ever read, but has nothing to do with India.

I don’t know how much of the book was based to what extent on real events, but I got the feeling that the horrible things in it were the types of things that happened in India not-so-long ago. And it’s easy to go through life pretending it isn’t still happening in the world, but in truth it is, we just can’t handle thinking about it too often.

Please do me a favor. Restore my faith in humanity and do something exceptionally nice for someone today.