Expansion?

So, it’s funny, but I can already feel myself growing. Not my waistline, necessarily, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I came back fifty pounds heavier, considering how good the sweets are here. Nobody warned me. I heard plenty about the danger of pollution, wearing tank tops, petting stray dogs… but nobody said anything about the gulab jamin. Look it up; I’ll wait. Anyway! This was supposed to be introspective, not ridiculous. Or maybe both are one and the same.. I’ll have to ask one of the many gurus around here, hanging out in their beautiful ashrams by flowing rivers and parks that look like something out of the Jungle Book. The Disney version, not the other one. During our seven-hour bus tour of Pune that we took last week, we stopped by the aforementioned park. It was absolutely amazing. I walked over sheets of moss-covered rock, literally walking across babbling brooks via stepping stones that gleamed with the history of a thousand years. OK, maybe I didn’t mean that last part literally. I was just losing myself into this time-warp of greenery when our guide blew his piercing whistle. Great mean, really. He simply confused a group of American college students with wild boars or something. Maybe that’s not so much of a stretch.

Anyway! As I said, something’s growing. It’s not body fat, not dysentery (I hope)… It’s something else. I had a few brief moments of pure frustration, which I suppose is just a very, very mild version of culture shock. Things are definitely different here, but I honestly feel comfortable here. I met my host family yesterday, and I felt an instant connection. They’re all incredibly kind (I have a host mother, father, and sixteen-year-old brother) and speak impeccable English. They laughed at my jokes (I know! Most [and by most, I mean all] Americans don’t!) and made me feel so at home. It doesn’t hurt that they have a Western toilet. Indian toilets are pit-style; a concrete hole opens down into an unnamed abyss, and a welcoming hose sits patiently nearby. Yes.

I’m not saying that I’ve suddenly reached spiritual bliss or have uncovered some amazing truth about the greater human race, but rather that I just feel something settling within me. I love it here, and I’m reminded constantly of how glad I am that I picked India. I’m sure that I would’ve been happy studying in any number of countries, but India just FITS. It’s like those awful commercials for matchmaking companies that talk about THE ONE. You could date any number of countries before finding the one that truly makes you happy. I guess you could say that India and I are going steady after just one week. If things keep up at this rate, we’ll be wearing matching rings within the month. I’m sorry, I know that was an awful explanation for a not-so-awful concept.

I wanted to write about this as soon as it happened, but I decided to stay away from the Internet for a few days, just to try to alleviate my total dependence on technology (anyone who has seen me text-message knows this well). A few days after we arrived in Pune, a few people organized a candlelight vigil right outside our hotel for the bombings in Mumbai (known as 7/11, aka two days before we flew into Mumbai). It’s been strange talking with Indians about terrorism, since the people who I talked to hold an entirely different view than most Americans do. The tragedy is certainly present; the Indian Times is doing a biography on each of the hundred-plus victims of the subway bombings. However, mostly everybody who I’ve talked to said that it wasn’t something that would impact their daily lives. I want to stress again how deeply this has affected the people of Maharasthra, but the general attitude is that terrorism happens, and as awful as it is, changing their daily route to avoid the subways or staying at home is simply giving into the tactics. I heard some versions of that in the US after 9/11, but it was usually centered on the concept of “buying American,” rather than supporting one another to move on.

Back to the vigil. I had been out shopping with some friends, and we returned to our hotel in the evening to see several dozen people standing, sitting, and kneeling in front of a patch of the sidewalk that had been covered with sod, lit candles, and flowers of all types. We paused for a moment, unsure of our presence as non-Indians in the middle of a recognition of an Indian tragedy. Barely ten seconds after we stopped, a man came up, and with a small, slightly sad smile handed us candles and flowers. I lit my candle, placed it in the sod, and knelt down to pray. To my left was a woman draped in a brilliant red sari, her lips moving soundlessly. To my right was a man standing, his hands folded in silent prayer. As we left, the others at the vigil looked at us with nothing less that appreciation at our presence. Both of the daily papers the following day had pictures on the front page of other ACM students at the vigil. It’s truly amazing how an event that could have inspired defensive or suspicious emotions was addressed so gracefully and how our presence was appreciated instead of rebuked.

There’s more to add, but I don’t want to oversaturate anyone who’s actually reading this blog. Thank you for taking the time to check on me. I’ll be in touch again soon.

Love,
Sarah!

iPod: “This Place Is A Prison,” The Postal Service