436 Lakshmi Bai Nagar, 110023, New Delhi, India: one name and one address that mark the beginning of a journey in a country of over 1.2 billion people; a journey that marks the awakening of a dream and the first step towards its fulfillment.
Stepping into a land I was prepared for by studies of colonial and postcolonial theories, by friendly but opposite sets of advice, by controversial academic approaches towards cultural differences between "East" and "West", by numerous medical vaccinations, by a rational, so-called scientifically objective, anthropological mindset...the land of Maharaj and Maharani.
"Do keep in mind that there is a patriarchal, nationalist system engraved in peoples' minds and behavior!"..."India is not only the beautiful, colorful land with elephants on the street, you will need a lot of vaccinations before going there, are you sure you still want to go?"..."Be careful: as a woman, you won't be able to walk alone in the city after 7 o'clock in the evening, especially in New Delhi!".... "Don't worry; I'm sure you will like India! The culture, the places, the colors, the food, the people, you will simply love it! And you would long to go back!"...
The most recurrent question throughout the whole journey was: How to relate to so many different places, peoples, smells and colors of India? what kind of eyes, ears and mouth would one need to perceive, to listen to and to speak about a tiny, tiny part of India that can be experienced in a couple of weeks? Undoubtedly, there is a variety of answers; there are individual ways of doing it. As for myself, I chose to Live, to Try, to Immerse myself into the Other's world, I chose to be a bare human being, whose identity is shaped and re-shaped in contact with the Other.
The hot sun of the Indian spring, no rain for 21 days, evening walks in the Lake Park, where the lake has drained and where I had to face the curious gaze of the children and the old men…Interestingly enough, the gaze of the Other (in this case the Indian men) had impacted my self-image: I was no longer the rational, neutral observer, I had become the target of observation: I had become the Other. And as a foreign national, my entry ticket to National Museums, Gardens, and Art Galleries was ten times more expensive than the regular tickets, which created in me a first reaction of frustration. After a while, however, I understood the logic of being a tourist and the uncomfortable feeling of being looked upon as a foreign national.
The security checking points at each metro stop, at the entry gate to private apartment areas in Gurgaon, as well as at the entry at cinema halls, made me realize how different life can be for citizens who are neighboring other countries than Austria and Slovakia. On the other hand, traveling in the women's compartment in the metro, with a woman-security guard at the door, who does not allow men to enter, that is, maybe, one of the cultural differences my friend referred to in a discussion about gender issues in India.
Close to Delhi Haat, a nice, young lady offered to draw a mendhi on my hand. I saw the sample, it looked nice and the price seemed to be fine. My left hand was decorated with a beautiful, hand-made flower that should have lasted for two weeks. The next day I found out that the mendhi was only meant for married women. Nevertheless, the traditional decoration facilitated my entry at one of New Delhi's Gardens, where I was taken for an Indian national.
Traveling to Old Delhi by riksha: following my friend's advice, I didn’t go there alone in the evening. However, at the end of the trip, the riksha rider asked for five times the price of the trip, for the very obvious reason that I was a foreigner, thus, I could afford to pay more. Astonished by the awkwardness of the situation, I was wondering what kind of behavior was requested in these circumstances. The way out was simple: once the price set at the beginning of the trip, it does not change at the end. The difficult part for me was to display the attitude that was needed: being too polite in India should sometimes be avoided.
Sleeping in a room with three lizards for two weeks, having monkeys as neighbors for three days in Shimla, meeting parrots and peacocks at Neemrana Fort, avoiding elephants and cows wandering on the highway towards Agra, longing to touch the puppies and the camel lying down in the Garden of Five Senses, climbing a tree whose leaves are going to sleep in the evening, in Chandigarh, entering barefoot and sitting silently in the Lotus Temple, New Delhi, playing with colors on Holi, a festival that goes beyond the castes boundaries (Mendelsohn, 1998) and aims at unifying people, regardless of their social status, ethnic origin or skin color...
All these glimpses of an exposure to the Other’s world, glances of apparently small things, convey a message that my friend rightly expressed: "the God of small things" (Roy, 1997) calls me back for a life-challenging experience, to the place, the address and the name that wait for me: 436 Lakshmi Bai Nagar, 110023, New Delhi, India.
Lidis Garbovan, SocAnth Alumna, 2010
References:
1. Mendelsohn, Oliver & Vicziany, Marika, 1998, The Untouchables, Cambridge University Press
2. Roy, Arundhati, 1997, The God of Small Things, IndiaInk, New Delhi
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