Sunday, September 19, 2010

Tulsi Baug

Ok, so this post was written before Eid/Ganesh Chaturthi. So its a little late...

In the heart of Pune’s Old City, about a minute’s walk from my grandmother’s house, is a mixed (open and closed air) market made up of two narrow lanes that cross each other: Tulsi Baug. It is one of my usual destinations for small trinkets, odds and ends as well as occasional clothes shopping.

During this trip, as my mom and I stood waiting for her purse to be mended (new straps put on to completely match the old ones), we decided to get some ice cream at the always-crowded store, Kawre Brothers. As I stood outside the shop and ate my butterscotch cone, I marveled at the uniqueness of the place I was in. There are not that many places (fewer still outside India) that can boast the diversity that Tulsi Baug has to offer.

I start with the numerous livelihoods of people who work at Tulsi Baug. At the top you have the larger stores (pakka – with four walls, some of which take credit cards). These are stores you can get all types of cosmetics, fake (and semi-real) jewelry, clothes, etc. Now the term jewelry in India encompasses infinite number of pieces, some of which I’m sure men wonder, where does this go again? You can get bits of shiny metal to adorn yourself from your head to your toes. Case in point: This time I bought to such shiny pieces to put in my hair bun (one that I wore at my engagement and one just for fun!). Moving on the cosmetics: while Tulsi Baug still sells henna and organic soaps and shikakai for hair, shopkeepers have kept up with the times. Alongside henna cones, you can buy Maybelline lipsticks and Cover Girl eye shadows (the fake kind and the authentic for at least twice as much). In a lesser number, there are stores that sell pots and pans, fake flowers for ALL your religious needs, bindis, random plastic items (soap dishes, etc.) and “western clothes”. There is even a store dedicated to: fake hair! So really, anything and everything you need can be found here. I unabashedly admit, if you need bangles… I know a guy.

And those are just the stores. Right outside the stores you have the stalls. These are slightly cheaper places where you can get hair clips, mobile phone covers, some cosmetics and jewelry and purses (D&G anyone? How about a Gucci?). For us, these stalls are primarily used for cheap hair clips as well as henna cones (yes they are cheaper than the stores and produce the same results). At the lowest level of the food chain are the street sellers who usually carry whatever they sell and wander up and down the lanes. Now people have an interesting relationship with these sellers. I find them irritating. They usually sell items that I have not yet found the need to buy (welcome mats, dish washing pads, moth balls and those glow in the dark stars that people put on their ceilings). I kid you not, these are the same items they have been selling for years. I would like to share with them new marketing techniques. They should analyze their consumers and approach ONLY them. However, they seem to approach everyone, including me. I’ll be walking purposefully to my bangle guy when out of the blue: Madam, door mats? No thanks. I believe door mats are something that you would put on your list before you left your house. They are hardly an item that you would randomly remember in the middle of shopping. But, I may be wrong. My brother on the other hand, appreciates the fact that they do not discriminate. However, for the last time, I don’t want eeeeshtars!

Another main reason for my forays into Tulsi Baug is to go to my tailor (for salwaar khameezs, not sari blouses – that’s a different guy). Now to get to this tailor, you have to look carefully between two stalls, there is this narrow one way traffic lane. For Harry Potter fans, I think of it as the Lane of Requirement, it only appears when you need it, because otherwise it’s invisible. At the end of the lane is a staircase – dark and damp. It is one of those staircases into which unintelligent females venture into in bad scary movies. Every time we go up it, my aunt (or mom) say: Don’t touch anything! I recommend not looking at or smelling anything either. On the first floor is a tiny room, with men who seem to be on sewing machines permanently. However odd the location, they really are the best tailors. And the clothes they are sewing are proof – they have the prettiest and most expensive looking blouses and salwaar khameezes hanging behind them.

While I ate my ice cream, I categorized the livelihoods Tulsi Baug had to offer into these three levels. I was amazed at the number of people employed in these two gallis (lanes). However, in those ten minutes, I also people-watched – something I’ve never done in Tulsi Baug. Because of the crowds, my previous expeditions have been of a search and retrieve nature. What I found was something that I absolutely LOVE about India. It is the week before Ganesh Chaturthi and Eid. Therefore, Tulsi Baug is ridiculously crowded. However, there are few places in the world (repeating myself but o so true) where you can see people of two huge religions mingling together. These are conservatives of both religions out to celebrate their different festivals. Women in all black, men in beards and skull caps haggled at prices of socks and handkerchiefs alongside women in saris (the Marathi kinds – pants style) and men in dhotis. A unknown fact about the world is that the universality of human beings is seen outside jewelry/cosmetic shops – men (holding shopping bags) standing outside looking bored while women crowd around the counters.

Now Old City Pune is just that, its conservative, OLD school, where I have gotten stopped on the road and chided (by random unknown lady) for wearing a skirt. However, in Tulsi Baug, you can find people from all different generations. You can find the pre-independence old people, going to the temple or to their usual stores and you can find college girls (yes sometimes wearing a skirt) giggling in large groups as they buy earrings. Likewise you can see the occasional foreigner, a little overwhelmed at the sights, smells and sounds, and you can see the whole family from a nearby village, making a day trip to Pune to buy everything they need for the next couple months.

So there is religious diversity, varying levels of modernity, rural vs. urban divide in Tulsi Baug. Additionally, there are literally every combination of human relations that are known to mankind. I saw whole families, young couples (married and not), old couples, really old couples, mothers with children, grown children with their old mothers, fathers alone with children (buying ice cream and balloons), siblings running errands, college friends (all female, all male, mixed), aunties shopping together, etc. If I’ve missed a combination, ask me about it and I’m sure you can find it at Tulsi Baug. With all the types of people in Tulsi Baug, I’d like to think of this as a miniature India.

I’m not sure if I’ve conveyed the true essence that is Tulsi Baug. But since it is an integral part of every trip of mine to Pune, I had to share it with those not fortunate enough to experience it themselves.

Friday, August 13, 2010

East becomes West… while West sips on Chai Lattes

Globalization is a phenomenon that has received a lot of attention in the past decades. Now, I don’t claim to know whether globalization will have a positive or negative impact on the world. However, I do know that it’s here to stay, we can’t fight it and that we might as well make the best of the situation. At the present, my limited observations of America and India seem to suggest that we are not doing the best we can. In fact, things must change if we want to reap the benefits of our shrinking planet, especially if we want to stop our expanding oceans.

Now for the purposes of these ramblings, I am going to use the terms East and West (also because I claim artistic license and it makes for a cooler title to the essay). And while my observations are from America and India, I am going to see whether I can apply them more generically to the two different hemispheres.

We will start with what the “East” has learnt from the “West”. The past decade has pretty much shown us that the East has learnt to do what the West does, except faster and cheaper. The latest example is a 35 dollar laptop, making it available to a much larger audience than ever before. I wonder how long it will be when the number of computer owners in India will surpass America. Not that I should ever talk about numbers and India (they seem to “win” in any numbers game). But they did surpass cell phone users a long while back. Speaking of cell phones, the number of networks and the ability of these networks to work even in the remotest areas is something that continued to surprise me. As I sat next to a herd of goats, in a village where there was no tar road or electricity, I was able to have a clear conversation with my parents in Washington DC. The East has definitely seen the advantage of a “mobile” network and covered even the most under-developed areas. Last example: call centers and outsourcing. Need I say more? However, overall I commend a lot of these adaptations as they have done wonders for the Indian economy.

But opening up the economy did mean an invasion of Coca Cola. I haven’t even begun to mention brand name fads and fast food chains in India. Because I was mostly in rural India, I didn’t have much exposure to cities. However, my few stays in metropolises and catching the latest Mickey D’s commercials (advertising Masala Fries!), I can pretty confidently say that the East has learnt how to make cheap and quick food as well, American style, which is necessary since pav bhaji stands have been on the streets for a while now. What that says for the arteries of city dwelling Indians only time will tell (I’m lovin it – NOT). But how far has this movement really gone: Kentucky Fried Chicken! (Ok fine, chicken might be widely eaten – but what Kentucky is may not be as widely known). But TGIF? Ironically in many places, there are six day workweeks. So “Thank God It’s Friday” doesn’t even make sense! Can they think before they blindly copy? Apparently not.

Ok, before I have a couple billion people up in arms, I’m not letting the West get off that easily either. Let’s see what they have taken from the East. For an area that came up with the most amazing astrological and mathematical discoveries, the latest things to come out of the place and into the hearts and minds of the West is… chai lattes. Yes, while I am glad that “chai” has become a familiar word in America, is that really all the East has to offer? I almost forgot about yoga! In the poshest parts of Manhattan, I see advertisements for Bikram Yoga classes. I’m sure the sages of the old are turning in their graves (metaphorically speaking of course) when they see the growing industry selling yoga mats, and yoga pants and yoga balls, etc. The word has lost its true meaning and is now done in quick one hour sessions after work and before happy hour. Can you really find peace in that hour to balance out all the stress and worry that fills the rest 23? Henna tattoos, shirts with Chinese symbols, hummus are all new discoveries that have slowly infiltrated the West. Quick aside: my favorite one is the genius of AR Rahman, because I can be an elitist and say that the world is discovering something I knew for ages. But as Amartya Sen put it in a lot more words (and bigger words), after colonizing, the West seems to be apologizing by trying to learn from the East. Unfortunately, all they have done is proceed to “exoticize” the East.

I believe that for the most part the West has taken all things exotic from the East and stopped there. But, the East has also played up its own exoticness. Neither side has questioned whether there is more. Being in villages in India, while I saw a slow infiltration of “foreign” ideas and objects, I saw that there is WAY more. I saw a way of life which is in harmony with the earth. Now before you say I’m going tree-hugger on all of you, please hear me out. As part of my project, we tried to get farmers to use LESS chemical fertilizers and pesticides: a practice clearly copied from the West. We tried going towards sustainable agriculture with the eventual goal of going organic. Ironically, the western “fad” of organically grown produce was being brought into in the area. The concept of organic farming, if taken back through time, was prevalent much more recently in the East than in the West. The elders in the villages would listen to our methods and talk about how they used to do things that way in the first place, before the existence of big fertilizer and chemical companies. While the younger farmers had to be explained how to make compost pits, the older ones knew and had done it themselves. How odd was it to teach a way of life to people who had only recently forgot it and introduce it as something “foreign”?

But farming is only one example, recycling is another. You know those cloth bags that every store seems to sell now. Go Green! They will say. And stop using plastic bags. Well, guess what? That’s been around in the East for YEARS. It was actually the norm, until recently. I can’t wait to find Go Green bags in Indian supermarkets. My favorite example is from a couple houses in Rajasthan. Now, with certain mobile SIM cards, apparently you get a free CD. Having no computer to play the CD and because it has no songs/movies on it, it has no use for the villagers. The next logical step is to throw it out, right? Wrong! The women make intricate wall ornaments from the CDs and decorate their houses with it. It sparkles and shows off different colors in the light and looks quite beautiful. Why would you just throw away something so pretty? I’m sorry, that’s just second nature for a lot of people in the world.

So, is the cup half full or half empty? My answer is always that it is half full. While I have commented on how both the East and West are doing things the wrong way, I do have a positive outlook on life. First of all, in the future, I believe the boundaries of East and West will fade and we will all become more homogenous. As this happens, I think it is important to take the best from each culture and make sure that culture retains it and that it spreads across the world. In the end, its great that there is a slowly growing “Go Green” movement in the west, regardless of where it originated! I think they have realized that in order to survive in this world, we will all have to go green. All I have to say is that I hope the east does not go through all the same stages the west did, in order to reach the “go green” stage. East: You don’t need a “Silent Spring” or “The Jungle” to get you back on track. Remember that you already know how to go green. Not only keep it alive, but also teach it to others. All I have to say is that we have so much more to learn from one another, other than chai lattes and TGIF’s. As a unique blend of East and West, and a true child of the globalization, I want the world to do what I have done in my life: take the best of both worlds and make the most of it.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Identity and Gender: Meeting in the Middle

Feminist. Now that is something I never classified myself as. Ever. I have always believed in the general equality of men and women. As in women should earn as much as men and men should help out in the kitchen. These were values I grew up with and thought they were just widely accepted. But a feminist to me was someone who took out her soapbox and screamed at the world, someone who was fighting the world every minute of her life against evil men. I did not have the time or the energy for that (while I appreciated those who did fight for the rest of us). I had other issues to worry about.

All that changed in India. Values I had held to be, well self-evident, were nowhere to be found. And as a result of me being in conservative, rural, Rajasthan, I was suddenly… the Feminist. It didn’t start with the label, it started with me getting worked up about things I saw happening in society around me. Or seeing what place women had in society (at times quite literally). What got my dupatta in a real twist was the fact that this was the status quo for them and I was the one with the strange new ideas about equality. Discovering this new aspect about my persona was a little unnerving. What happened to not having time for “women’s” issues?

Well, let me tell you what happened. I took them up. I decided that while I was there, for however long or short time it was, I was going to do something about it. For those who know me or saw me work, I can assure you that I went about it my own way. When faced with opposition (yes, the evil men) or in some cases the women, I didn’t believe in arguing and debating to change opinions (opinions that have been in place for centuries). I believe that education and DOING things is what changes society. And so began the upward battle: teaching women to write their names, involving them in the smallest of decisions, having them speak in public in front of visitors. These were how I decided to change society.

You might think these are small achievements, especially in a place where child marriages and female infanticide happens. But this was our feminist movement.

As I became accustomed to my new role, the strangest behavior started to manifest itself. To gain acceptance from the community (both men and women), I realized I started getting… more conservative. Oftentimes I heard myself say: “No, of course you need to ask for your husband’s permission” and “Yes, women do need to learn how to cook and clean the house” (silently adding that they should also learn to take financial and livelihood decisions). In many meetings and conferences, I was called upon to give motivational speeches, to get the women standing up and believing that they can bring change in their lives and communities. But, in order not to scare them, I had to show them that I was at a place where they would be comfortable meeting me: half way.

While analyzing my own journey, I started seeing the journey of some individuals, “community leaders” that emerged as time went on. I realized that the journey for them was much harder than it was for me. While my demons were internal, oftentimes they faced taunts such as “Masterni” and “Netaji” (teacher and politician – yes I know, HUGE insults) as they left the village for meetings. But the ones that came forward turned a deaf ear towards these taunts and realized that they were doing something for a greater good. They were becoming spokeswomen for their sisters and mothers (who never had this chance). They are creating a different world for their daughters. And most importantly, they are creating an identity for themselves, sometimes from scratch.

The journey was most evident at a conference I went to in Sanchi, Madhya Pradesh. Women from different areas of SRIJAN’s projects had come together for two days. I remember standing in a circle (of around 70-80 women), holding hands. We had all come from very different places, speaking very different languages and had taken different paths. But we had all ended in that same circle, working towards the same goal.

If you think of a spectrum of feminism (conservative to liberal, traditional to modern), think of me as starting at one end and the village women starting at the other end. Through the course of the year, we all build identities for ourselves and met, in the middle.

For me, that also meant getting used to (and changing the definition of) the label, feminist.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Are they the same everywhere?

I have always believed that if you look at kids from anywhere in the world, rich or poor, regardless of language, culture, or anything else, that they will be exactly the same. Toddlers will have the same curiosity of the world around them, small boys will have that mischievous glint in their eyes right before they play a prank and teenagers will always be moody.
My dad gives the example of a small child being dragged by his mother at an airport. Now the mom was speaking in French (or Japanese, I can’t remember which). While my dad did not understand a word, he knew she was saying: I ASKED you if you had to go to the bathroom five minutes ago and you said no!
Things like these cross cultural boundaries…
However, I have come to realize that for certain children, their lives are changed by society so that they are not allowed to have the same childhood enjoyed by everyone across the world. My recent trip to Tamil Nadu put me face to face with two such examples.
It took three nights and two trains to get to TN and the same to get back. On the way back, a bunch of us caught a train at midnight. We got on and silently put our luggage away as the rest of the passengers were sleeping. Now our suitcases wouldn’t fit below the seats and they normally do. We tried shoving really hard but then we realized something was blocking them. As three of us peaked down, we saw a small boy (of around 7-8 years old) lying on the floor with a bundle of cloths next to him. Of course, we panicked. He had his eyes tightly closed but of course he wasn’t sleeping. He couldn’t have been after having our suitcases shoved on top of him repeatedly. We asked him if he wanted to come up or wanted anything to eat or a place to sleep but we got no reaction. While all of us had no choice but to go sleep on our berths, I know we all fell asleep wondering where he came from, where he was going and what was forcing him to travel like this. He clearly did not fit in with the theory of “kids are the same everywhere”.
In the middle of the night, I decided to get a blanket out of my bag. I climbed down and completely forgot about the little boy. As I reached down to open my bag, he also came up from under the seat. It was a split second when I know both our hearts stopped and we both gasped. After that second, without thinking I suppressed a giggle because it was actually pretty funny. I won’t forget the moment when as soon as I smiled, he almost giggled as well. That second was enough for me to know that somewhere deep inside him, there lay a naughty little boy as well. In the morning, he was gone…
On the same train came a group of kids doing acrobats (yes on a train). Of course everyone’s reactions were to cling to their purses because the nimble kids will also be nimble in other ways. After cartwheels and backflips, this little girl came up to us to ask for money. She was the sweetest little girl, with two red dots on her cheeks. Of course I refused to give her money. Instead, I offered her oranges or a packet of chocolate cream biscuits. She refused both. WHAT CHILD REFUSES CHOCOLATE? I was appalled. I talked to her for a bit, told her to eat these things with me, but no, she wanted money. It was shocking to see the level of brainwashing done to these children. She went away slowly, empty handed.
While you may think this is a depressing entry and will think, why did I write this? I take this as motivation as this is what drives me to improve the world we live in…

Are they the same everywhere?

I have always believed that if you look at kids from anywhere in the world, rich or poor, regardless of language, culture, or anything else, that they will be exactly the same. Toddlers will have the same curiosity of the world around them, small boys will have that mischievous glint in their eyes right before they play a prank and teenagers will always be moody.
My dad gives the example of a small child being dragged by his mother at an airport. Now the mom was speaking in French (or Japanese, I can’t remember which). While my dad did not understand a word, he knew she was saying: I ASKED you if you had to go to the bathroom five minutes ago and you said no!
Things like these cross cultural boundaries…
However, I have come to realize that for certain children, their lives are changed by society so that they are not allowed to have the same childhood enjoyed by everyone across the world. My recent trip to Tamil Nadu put me face to face with two such examples.
It took three nights and two trains to get to TN and the same to get back. On the way back, a bunch of us caught a train at midnight. We got on and silently put our luggage away as the rest of the passengers were sleeping. Now our suitcases wouldn’t fit below the seats and they normally do. We tried shoving really hard but then we realized something was blocking them. As three of us peaked down, we saw a small boy (of around 7-8 years old) lying on the floor with a bundle of cloths next to him. Of course, we panicked. He had his eyes tightly closed but of course he wasn’t sleeping. He couldn’t have been after having our suitcases shoved on top of him repeatedly. We asked him if he wanted to come up or wanted anything to eat or a place to sleep but we got no reaction. While all of us had no choice but to go sleep on our berths, I know we all fell asleep wondering where he came from, where he was going and what was forcing him to travel like this. He clearly did not fit in with the theory of “kids are the same everywhere”.
In the middle of the night, I decided to get a blanket out of my bag. I climbed down and completely forgot about the little boy. As I reached down to open my bag, he also came up from under the seat. It was a split second when I know both our hearts stopped and we both gasped. After that second, without thinking I suppressed a giggle because it was actually pretty funny. I won’t forget the moment when as soon as I smiled, he almost giggled as well. That second was enough for me to know that somewhere deep inside him, there lay a naughty little boy as well. In the morning, he was gone…
On the same train came a group of kids doing acrobats (yes on a train). Of course everyone’s reactions were to cling to their purses because the nimble kids will also be nimble in other ways. After cartwheels and backflips, this little girl came up to us to ask for money. She was the sweetest little girl, with two red dots on her cheeks. Of course I refused to give her money. Instead, I offered her oranges or a packet of chocolate cream biscuits. She refused both. WHAT CHILD REFUSES CHOCOLATE? I was appalled. I talked to her for a bit, told her to eat these things with me, but no, she wanted money. It was shocking to see the level of brainwashing done to these children. She went away slowly, empty handed.
While you may think this is a depressing entry and will think, why did I write this? I take this as motivation as this is what drives me to improve the world we live in…

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Bus! Ok, I haven’t had enough yet though…

Have you ever traveled on a bus in India? A local bus? I mean, the kind that stops every two feet and everyone seems to know each other.
Well, over the course of last year, I’ve travelled on such buses many many times. Now let me explain to you the significance of these buses. To the city-dweller it seems irritating, to stop at every cluster of houses and taking the longest possible route between points A and B. But to the villager, this same bus is the only source of transportation for ANYTHING and EVERYTHING. At every stop, there will be a group of people waiting by the side of the road, oftentimes not near any distinguishable form of habitation. The women will be sitting in a close circle, faces covered and whispering. Usually its just one woman who has to go, but everyone else is there to see her off. As soon as the bus appears, there is a flash of relief in the eyes of the men. “Areeeee, bus aaaa giiiiiii”. Then everyone slowly starts gathering their odd shaped packages of cloths, vegetables, shawls, etc.
How do I know this? I’ve sat in that circle and have experienced the same relief when the welcoming sound of motor and rattling of the local bus is heard from far away.
Let me tell you about finding a seat on these buses. Initially there might not be any, but it is a “survival of the fittest” skill. Spot one from far away and you better be quick. Now a seat is literally just that, a small patch of square leather on which you can sit. However, your ticket does not include air space, the area above the seat, which will include arms, elbows and small children belonging to other passengers. Now I realize that it is a bus and not an airplane and that I shouldn’t talk about air space. But given the road quality, sometimes the bus is not in contact with the ground for long enough to qualify for at least drinks and pretzels.
Ok, I call it a bus but you have to realize that its so much more than that…
It is a school bus… picking up and dropping off the lucky kids who get to go a school a little ways away from their village, usually because their village only has an elementary school. For the younger kids, its just another place to fight and play and make fun of each other. If they are lucky they get a seat, or even a chance to get on the bus (for at times they are banished to the roof). For the older ones, it is a place to study and to spend time with friends while not worrying about house work. They get on and immediately look for other schoolmates and start discussing why someone didn’t come today, what she said yesterday and who rode their bicycle to school today.
It is an ambulance… once or twice I’ve seen old women and men being literally carried onto the bus, because they don’t have the energy to walk. They are being taken to the local hospital, usually after days of being sick in the village. As a last resort, they are being taken to the doctor. I remember one woman slowly, I mean SLOWLY climbing the stairs. Each step she put down was put down so gingerly that it seemed that the ground might break her ankles if she stepped any harder.
It is a place of wonder and excitement, from whose dirty grimy windows you can glimpse nearby towns and cities…. Children visiting their aunts, uncles and grandparents, going on once a yearly trips, can hardly contain their excitement at the thought of getting on, and YES, actually riding the bus. The excitement is in every molecule of their body, the energy clearly visible as they are unable to sit still even after getting a seat. It is all a game to them, finding a seat, getting a ticket. Every time the bus stops, they will ask, where are we? Are we there yet? Which village is this?
It is a place of terror. One woman, sitting in the back corner with her face covered, looked up with fear as the ticket collector came closer and closer to her. The tension that had started with getting on the bus got exponentially higher and higher until… Where do you want to go? Indergarh came the timid response. 25 Rs. please. A trembling hand gave a 20 Rs note. 5 Rs more please. I…I…I don’t have any more money. A frustrated ticket collector sighs and leaves. The woman breathes a sigh of relief.
The most miraculous part of the incidence isn’t that he let her slide. It is the small baby sleeping soundly against the woman’s chest. With increasing heart beats and sweaty palms, the amazing skill of motherhood is that worries are never transferable.
While I travelled a lot on these buses, its nowhere near the daily up and down on DC metros to get to GWU for two years. With the invention of the iPOD, who knows what I missed out on?
O wow, I forgot the excitement that I experienced every time we stop at a major town…. A cup of tea J