Differences and the 180° of India

Living in India is hard. I had no idea how hard it was going to be when my husband and I arrived in Hyderabad. Talk about culture shock.  I feel as though I am in an alternate reality, one where everything has been turned upside down. It would be less shocking to my sensibilities if the moon were to rule the day and the sun the night. I don't know where to begin writing about the core differences which change how one lives here, but I can tell you that as a woman my experience is even more impacted. I know now why the caged bird sings.

I am not having the tourist's experience. I am settling here.  Learning to navigate the culture is consuming all of my attention, demanding a level of awareness that I am forced to maintain or pay the consequences, which might be very harsh. 

180° of India

In western culture the female is objectified, sexualized, and targeted by media advertising. Here it is the male who is the focus of these pressures and the female is elevated and to remain untouchable, worshiped. She must be beautiful but if a woman is perceived as being too opinionated, independent, friendly, approachable or sexual it is scandalous. She might find herself targeted for violence and possibly rape.  Being worshiped here means a woman is isolated for her protection. Her house has barred windows and doors. Her clothes are meant to display the wealth and status of her family but should hide her body from prying eyes -- eyes which are everywhere and come with wagging tongues. Being worshiped demands perfection, stillness -- do not laugh too loudly or move freely in your body.

Men are blatantly sexualized in the media and their masculinity is even more heavily evaluated than I have ever witnessed before. I think this contributes to the huge rape problem that India is having. As pressures increase for men to be perceived and prove their masculinity and power over women and in life. There is vicious judgment and pressure on performance for men (and women) to receive even the smallest level of respect or benefits. The man must perform or he is condemned a failure. A husband must perform or his wife and children are shamed and ill treated also.

Further Differences . . .

India has bought into the all the worst most superficial aspects of western capitalist culture with a desperation to acquire and display. The India portrayed by their television is a lush, sanitized, clean fantasy India of wealth and luxury, with no waste or poverty. The reality is in stark contrast with harsh living conditions, abject poverty, and beggars crawling through trash filled streets.

I attended a trade exhibition where the central lawn area designated for family relaxation, sitting, and eating looked like a trash pit. People sat on trash to eat their food purchases, rising to leave a layer of more trash and move on through the exhibitions vending stalls. In India it is taboo to handle garbage. Only the lowest cast person is concerned with clearing away rubbish and they are reviled for it, Untouchables. Everyone else simply drops their litter where they stand and moves on, creating a cesspit of garbage. I was told simply to "look up."  "Don't look at it." (I carried my trash home with me. I could not bring myself to toss it on the ground.) My mind was reeling at the enormity of a mind set where the person who cares for the environment is considered the lowest of all, while those who are respected treat the earth with disregard, and disdain to clean up after themselves. 

These are just a few of the differences I have encountered. Others include people climbing and sitting on tables where food is being served; walking over food; grabbing food from the plates of others; dumping left over food scrapings off one's plate back in to the serving dish meant for others to share. No food is to be wasted. Beggars come to the door and happily take rancid or moldy food if given it.  Sanitation isn't even a consideration. Heaven help you if you need a toilet.

Perfect Diversity . . .

My spirit is being tested. My comfort zone is being challenged. My assumptions about life and how best to live are being examined against different world conditions, views, and culture.  I am being forced to see things with the eyes of a stranger and to find sense in the world turned 180°s round from what I've known. I am being forced to let go of values which have no force or potency in the circumstances which I find myself.

The culture or ways of being may be different but the humanity and human needs are consistent. I am beginning to see more than differences and expanding in my awareness of others. Thank you India.   

Update on India: I have arrived

It has been wildly shocking how different things are here in India compared to living in the USA. Hyderabad is huge, a 400+ year old, densely packed city, where I am now living with my in-laws in a residential colony called Lakshmi Nagar.

Each morning for the last week, I have awaken at dawn to the Azhan/Adhan prayer being sung out ringingly over the city from the neighborhood mosque. Immediately, I can hear people begin their morning ablutions, the hawking snorts and grunts from netti pot users, people flushing their toilets, roosters crowing, the distant call of an ox two houses down who wishes to be milked. A man brushes his teeth.

I have had my first drama moment, with my blood sugar over 400. My Indian family, en mass, took me to see their favorite physician. 

The doctor's  visit was the strangest I've ever had. First of all his clinic was set up almost like a little street shop. We literally just walked up, kicked off our shoes at the door (something you do at every place you visit), stepped through the entry way to sit on a bench and wait our turn; while he held consultations in a cube like office, with sliding milky glass door which YOU closed for privacy IF you wanted it. He did have a separate room for treatment and evaluation.  We waited about 5 minutes before being received, just the length of time it took him to release the patient ahead of us. Can you imagine that? Zero reception hassle. When one patient left the doctor simply beckoned the next person warming his bench to come in with a head wobble and a waive of the hand.

There was no thought given at all toward privacy concerning medical info. Anyone on the bench could hear our conversation and, if the door was open, see our whole visit play out. I was treated like a baby; meaning my family and the doctor talked about me without including me in the conversation.   I didn't know if I should feel pissed at the loss of autonomy or laugh and enjoy having my wellbeing secured be so important to everyone.  It is a commonly held belief here that the patient should be protected from direct knowledge of their medical condition, as it may prove too shocking and be detrimental in their recovery. It doesn't help my plight that I only speak English and everyone but my husband speaks rudimentary or broken English. I chose to go with the flow and enjoy someone else taking the reigns for a moment.

The roads here are Crazy with a capital C! Drivers don't stick to their lanes, honking is a friendly greeting and a spontaneous attention seeking device they employ liberally. DONKEYS, GOATS, OXEN, children. . . you name it and I have probably seen it roaming the streets unattended. Car, auto, truck, and scooter drivers cross in front of or cut around each other randomly with honked warnings. Changing direction with a U-turn may happen at any time and anywhere. There are few traffic lights, if any, and no one pays them any mind.

Everything is filthy. You should wear socks in your sandals to protect your feet, otherwise you get snaggle toes. It is also common to cover with scarves or wraps, much like a Muslim, to protect the hair and clothes. The air is full of dust. It coats everything, houses, cars, people. . . You name it. It gets in your ears, up your nose, and in every crack and crevice. You would have to hermetically seal your house to keep the dust out.

The people stare at anyone white or black as if we are famous. Lol, Children follow me in the market and stand staring, literally doing a double take, running in off the street in numbers to look get a look at me. It is as though they have never seen a foreigner before.  I have begun to pretend I'm a movie star just to cope. I saw an African woman at the bank being treated the same way. We  exchanged smiles of understanding and acknowledgement.

On a side note, the car that my father-in-law (who I will now refer to affectionately as Babba) drives plays a tune when he backs up; Elvis's Love me Tender. It took three days for me to figure out why the song was stuck in my head. Lol

Well that is my update on India post. All is well.

Love and light.