The Carpet Seller

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Today was just plain 'ol fun. Nothing enlightening. Nothing profound. Just good fun. I only met Kumar one other day when he drove us to Malappuram. But I have to say that having his company is like the icing on my Indian cake. Being with Kumar is kind of like being with Nick (that's my younger brother for those of you not familiar). He's not a big talker but when he does speak he's funny, witty and the slightest bit sarcastic. So, yes, we're a good match. He doesn't hesitate to shake his head at me or roll his eyes when I'm just being the normal Andrea.

My phone rang in the hotel room about 9:30 this morning and the voice on the other end said, “Madam, your car is here.” Madam your car is here? I could get used to this. I hop in the front seat next to Kumar and he asks what I want to do today. I feel like I’m kind of running out of tourist places to see in Chennai so we decide to spend the whole day shopping. He takes me to this place called Victoria Technical Institute where they specialize in locally made furniture but also sell smaller handicraft type things. On the ride over we talk about his life in India. He tells me about his wife being 8 months pregnant and it’s the custom for the Indian woman to spend the last couple of months of her pregnancy with her family and even the first two months after the baby is born. So she is staying in a village a few hours drive away and he visits when he can. He tells me how theirs was an arranged marriage which is pretty typical. He told me how it’s the custom for a man to marry his niece if he has an older sister with a daughter. I’m like “Are you for real?” He looks at me like I’M crazy for questioning him. But he said, “Since I don’t have older sister, my parents find different wife for me.” In telling me all these stories about arranged marriages and caste systems I find myself thinking, “I can’t believe people still live like this!” Of course I don’t say that and then I even feel bad for thinking it. This is his life. This is the life of a whole culture--over a billion people. How egotistical would it be for me to imply that I, a Midwestern housewife, would know better. So instead of letting my mind race with critical thoughts, I decide I just want to learn as much as I can from this person. We’ve all read and heard stories about life in India. Arranged marriages. Caste systems. Poverty. The abuse of women. And its all very real. I thought I would come home and think “Wow! The news really exaggerates things in America!” Unfortunately, that’s not true.

There’s a really nice restaurant at the hotel that I’ve had lunch at a couple of times and I got to talking to one of the servers, a female, and asked her if it was true what we read about how women can be treated here. I tell her that women are abused everywhere and I wasn’t implying that India was the only place but I ask, “Is this common?” She says, “Yes madam.” I say, “Well, can you leave? If it was you and it wasn’t safe to be with your husband, could you take the children and go to your parents?” “No madam. He is my husband. I could try to change him but…” her voice trails off and once again I find myself thinking, “You’ve got to be kidding me! Any good mother would take her daughter back in a heartbeat if she was being abused!” That’s the kind of mentality I’m learning to adjust. What seems just and fair to me (and probably most of you) is just bizarre crazy talk. AND THAT’S OK. That’s what I’ve learned. No, being abused isn’t ok. Obviously. But, having a whole different manner of thinking and reasoning and just plain living IS OK. At the risk of starting to sound like Oprah here, this is what I just love about traveling. Its about discovering completely new things and meeting strangers but being reminded how much we’re really all the same. For instance, in a carpet shop a few days ago there was a nice man from Kashmir (lots of Kashmirians here) trying to sell me some scarves or carpets or something. He’s probably 50 or 60 and is mostly bald with dark brown eyes and a distinctively Romanesque nose. He’s running his shop barefoot. This man has had a completely different life than me and I can only imagine the things he’s seen in his lifetime. But, the phone rings, and in an anxious tone the first thing that comes out of his mouth is, “Did you get the results of the biopsy?” He went from being so strange and exotic to all too familiar.

To be continued...

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