“Stretch yourself.”
If any two words have been trailing through my mind like a
mantra in the past two weeks it has been those two. The CEO of the thinktank I
worked at this summer gave them as a thread of advice and I’ve tugged on it
continuously as I fluctuate between helplessly falling in love with India and
hitting the ground in between the swoons.
I arrived exhausted. My luggage, but much more importantly,
my laptop were missing. I’m almost certain, somewhere between Newark and
Mumbai, I lost traces of my dignity as well. Although my clothes have arrived and my laptop is on its
way, I’m not quite sure I’ve found the lost pieces of myself. Fortunately, I’ve
discovered that being a true foreigner means you require dignity is lesser
portions; I’m coming to terms with this whole experience being a diet for my
ego.
After staying the first night at a hotel near the airport, I
set out for a ‘forest lodge’ in between Mumbai and Pune with thirty other
jetlagged, but eager American students. I joked to them that the ensuing 72+
hours can be described fairly succinctly. The food was spicy, nothing dried, I
had no clothes. But really, the
experience was more dynamic. Even among the wrinkled hills of Durshet I began
to feel the enormity of India. We had the chance to hike up to a village and
walk among the delicate frames of the rugged rural homes. The women, enveloped
in vibrant saris of all shades, gracefully balanced tins of water on their
heads against a background of rice fields and grazing cows. The comparison
between their lives and those in the slums we quickly passed in Mumbai was
already demonstrative of the diversity cradled inside India’s borders.
After three days packed with sessions on food, health,
safety, Marathi, and rickshaws, we finally set out for Pune. The trip there
brought us through winding roads peppered with slimmer versions of the cars in
the West. As we came closer we spotted more two wheelers, the term here for
motorcycles, expertly crisscrossing the traffic as slender trucks brought fresh
produce into city. The pedestrians appeared to coexist with the chaos, nonchalantly
weaving themselves among the moving vehicles.
Upon arriving, we had lunch with local college students at
the small cottage that serves as the program center. For once, the food was
bland. This allowed me to more readily focus on the company. After, we stood
close as they walked us through the narrow roads and shaded streets of Pune,
pointing out important landmarks. The following day we met them as well. We
went to a Ganesh temple and I received a coconut prasad, or offering, from the
bare-chested priest. Then they carefully guided us through markets riddled with
excited crowds of weekend shoppers.
This week I’ve started classes, ran at the quaint Japanese
garden nearby, and eaten my first dosa. And I’ve seen hundreds of elephants, or
elephant heads to be exact. Yet so far none of them real; they all belong to Ganesh,
the most beloved god in Maharashtra
Overall, I feel as if I move minute to minute, grasping at
different opportunities and piecing them together, wondering whether the
pattern they form will ever make sense. I crave routine, but India insists. It
sinks deep into my belly with its impatient spices, it arrests my concentration
with the intricacies of its music. It warms me with chai, it chills me with
rain.
So keep reminding myself to stretch, pull at my seams until
I feel my size comes to fit all there is to embrace.
** I am actively working on getting my pictures uploaded. Hopefully there will be plenty in the next couple of days!
