Azaadi har ek ki!

It is the 62nd Anniversary of India's Independence! Many shops are closed, and there are stages with loudspeakers, flags, and musical performers throughout the city. There are two such stages within a three block radius of my hotel. For the most part everyone seems to be a good mood, but there does seem to be some underlying unease. India's Independence from Britain was achieved through much struggle and suffering, and the painful memories of the communal violence that accompanied the division of British India into Muslim Pakistan and (primarily) Hindu India are very much alive in the older generation.

At Prem Dam, the residents and volunteers were given a charming presentation by a group of local school children. There were dances, and a skit. I believe the skit was about a peaceful protest being meet with violence by the representatives of the Crown. Some children dressed up as protesters, and some as police, with the police shooting the protesters. Fairly graphic for a little play put on by 7 year old children. History is all to often a tale of injustice, but if the stories of the valiant struggles of individuals and nations are kept alive in the youth, perhaps history will not repeat itself.

I've seen many posters of "Mahatma" (great soul) Gandhi and a man named "Netaji" (respected leader) Subhas Chandra Bose. Bose sought the help of the Axis powers in WW2 to drive the British out of India. Throughout West Bengal I've seen posters of him everywhere, and one of the main thoroughfares in Kolkata is named after him.

There are a few guests living in the first floor of my hotel of the most common rodent species. One of the hotel staff saw one run by, and labeled it a "big mouse". They don't bother me at all, in fact I find it nice that food scrapes aren't going to waste.

Just in case anyone thinks I have been unfairly misrepresenting myself towards native Kolkatans (with my claims to strangers of being Turkish), I have a quick story of a similar white lie being told to a Westerner. An American volunteer sat near by at Tirpatis, and asked me if I was Amish. I of course replied in the positive (believing my fellow countryman to be joking himself). We then had a five minute conversation about my time in India and the beliefs and practices of Amish Americans. This story simply illustrates that Americans need to improve their religious literacy. How could an Amish come to India? Perhaps by sailboat?

Children on the street often shout "hello" to a passing Westerner. If I respond with a hearty Kaamon acho? They usually retort with an amused and enthusiastic bhalo! About a third of the time, however, when I am by myself and dressed particularly Indian (lungi or long parts), my Kaamon acho? elicits a delayed, confused, and very soft-spoken bhalo achi . Even from adults, I sometimes get strange stares that are different from the ones I got when I was fresh from the States in Kolkata. "Who the heck is this two meter giant with the beard of a Sadhu or Iman, the skin of a foreigner (or possibly a rich local who has spent his life savings on whitening cream), the shirt of an American, and the lungi of a working class Bengali?" The best policy is to do a conspiratory side ways nod and a smile.

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