Dharwad Pedha and Bandh

Our work has slowed right now because we're waiting to hear back from printers and translators, so the past two days have been pretty relaxed. It was really nice to run around and do personal errands. Doing laundry by hand can actually be calming.

Deshpande's son is getting married this weekend in Hubli, and they have graciously invited our whole team to the wedding. So I had an excuse to go clothes shopping. We had some Dharwad pedha from a local bakery. This is a type of sweet that's unique to Karnataka apparently. It's truly amazing. It has a texture that really melts in your mouth. It's sweet and has a thick milky taste. So good!!! And it'd be really hard to find in the US, even at Indian stores, so I'm gonna make sure I get one every time we're in the city.

There was a nation wide 'bandh' today, because of land revocation at a temple. It's essentially a strike. Things shut down and there are riots. But locally, we also had a truckers strike, so everything really was shut down today. We saw a small mob forming, and people waving flags. Hopefully the restaurants will open so we can eat dinner….

Viral Trials

You haven't heard from me for the past few days because I've been sick.

Yep. For better or for worse, mine was more of a flu than the expected GI problems... But it was enough to keep me out of commission for about three days. Plus the first day of complete and utter denial of illness.

So I was the first one to suffer through the viral rights of passage, and now I'm feeling more much more entitled to embrace my own identity as a foreigner in this country. There is no way for me to meld into this society. Sickness has given me a fear and a realization of fragility. I need a barrier between myself and the raw-ness of this country. You can't try to push through and become local. I almost died…. Okay….I didn't almost die. Not even close. but it was still pretty bad.

At any rate, you've caught me feeling a little bit more than bitter.

Which brings me to the center of my sore feelings. Us girls are living in the college girls hostel, which was not unexpected. Boys aren't allowed in, ever, and, here's the worst part, we have a curfew of 10pm. If we're not back by curfew, they lock the doors and scold us when we get back. This is probably the most frustrating thing about living here. It is indescribably aggravating to feel like I have to be home by a certain time. I haven't had a curfew in almost a decade.

I feel trapped, caged in. We work all day, far longer and harder than a 9-5 summer internship, and then the boys get to have a relatively relaxing night out while the girls need to hurriedly finish up dinner and make it back before the warden condemns us. Our boys are as accommodating as they can be, but we weren't told it would be like this before we got here. We're coming here as equally empowered American women, we're working hard, and perhaps our struggle as foreign women in this country is harder, and now we have to be policed too. I'm not saying we need to stay out until 2AM. I just desire the freedom to move about as I wish, without being treated like a petulant child that doesn't know how to take care of herself. Even after days of being sick, my issue is still with this inequality. Discrimination, even in its most menial forms, has an odour and quality that is intrinsically repugnant. It becomes more stifling as the days pass.

Other than that, and my currently weak constitution, our project seems to be making headway. We had a press release picked up by REUTERS today. Check it out.

Zen and the Art of Showering

I woke up at 4:30 this morning, and by 5:00 I decided there was no going back to sleep, so it was time to get ready for the day. I turned the shower on and played with the dials, trying to find which one made hot water. India, it turns out, is not as hot as you may imagine. The mornings are quite cool, and I was not enthusiastic about the idea of a cold shower. The water went from icy cold to cold, and I knew this was all I was going to get. I gingerly inched closer to the water, trying to ease myself into the frigid downpour but this maneuver was useless. There was no other way. I held my breath and stepped in.

It was as if my body thought I might just die in that moment. My heart was racing, I was gasping for air, my body was confused. But after a few moments of misery, I could feel my body getting used to it. The water was still cold and unpleasant, but I was no longer panicking. By the end of the shower, the water felt not quite pleasant, but certainly not wholly unpleasant either. Just simple acceptance of the condition.

It struck me that this was a perfect metaphor for how our experience in India will be. There is no way to prepare for India. No way for us, in our land of high-speed access and fast food, to dip our feet in the water. And having landed here yesterday, that initial panic quickly set in. That physiological response. I'm in a country where I am unfamiliar with the customs, the language, the social boundaries, everything. I have never felt more defined by my gender. And in a land where for once, my skin color puts me in the majority, I am still a vulnerable outsider. Yesterday was a day of sheer trepidation.

Yet I'd be lying if I said I don't feel a connection with this place. Something in my blood pulls me towards it, even as my mind fills with doubts. And I think at the end of the day, that's why I'm here. Because India, for me, is the Motherland. Even though I grew up in a different world, she was always a part of it. And this is an experience that I needed to have. This is my pilgrimage. And I'm sure that the water will begin to feel less cold.

- Mairin