Reflections on India

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It's been nearly two months since I left India. After a couple of weeks home, I thought to myself, "Lynn, you ought to write a reflections blog," but I had no idea what I would put in it. Plus, there were holidays to celebrate and families to visit and wedding invites to send out (It's likely I didn't mention this before in my blog. For those readers who weren't aware: Surprise!). I decided to put my reflection off.

Then, one month after I returned, the idea crept back. This time it was more imposing, and kept repeating, "You must have figured things out by now!" Needless to say, I hadn't. It wasn't just that I was too busy looking for a job or seeing relatives anymore; I was speechless. I cannot begin to count how many times people try to open a conversation with me by saying, "So, you just came back from India. How was that?" This question always makes me feel like everything I did was trivial, and can be summed up in two or three words: "It was good" or "Life-changing" or "Eye-opening." The only comment that I've found works well for both me and the listener is, "I never realized how much I loved the seasons." True, the one and only time I cried during this whole experience was when my little plane landed at MSP and I saw snow. But that response is skirting the issue. What am I supposed to say when someone says, "Tell me stories about India"? I am forced to make my experience anecdotal, with the most exciting about angry rickshaw drivers or the time the old woman who weeded outside the guesthouse and I said "Namaste" nearly five times in a span of ten minutes because I was running in and out. (NOTE: for those readers who have asked me such questions, please don't take offense. I am not upset that you asked. In fact, I'm tickled pink that you did. This is more a reflection on my frustration with myself for being unable to share my thoughts adequately.)

But none of the above responses are my experience. To me, India is waking up just before sunrise to the twisting yell (I can't quite call it a song) of the koel (pron. "coil"). India is singing and dancing and laughing. India is ending each class with "You are released!" to the point that all of the students started saying it with me. And the dichotomies! India is spicy foods, but also the freshest milkshakes one can find on Earth (my humble opinon). India is being stared at, but also staring. India is poverty, but also richness. India is teaching, but also learning (definitely moreso the latter). India is the smile of a woman on the bus, but also the frustration of being unable to easily communicate.

I'll be honest in saying that I (clearly) still have no idea what to make of my experience, but each day my thoughts feel a little less tangled. About a month ago, I came to the conclusion that my difficulty stemmed from the lack of a teacher. The last two times I travelled abroad to learn (France and London), my lessons were quantitative. I could pick out words I learned, or bits of history, or theatrical techniques, and they were reinforced by a teacher/professor who helped me reflect on my discoveries. After this acknowledgement of my situation, I became less up-in-arms about my confusion. For example, around Christmas time I was asked, "What's one thing that your experience in India has taught you to do?" Of course, at that point I didn't really have an adequate answer. But one day since then it occurred to me that I have become less scared. Whether or not it's a conscious choice, I feel that it is easier to approach people who are different from me. Before India, the diversity of my friends, coworkers, and acquaintances was the Minnesota standard (mostly Caucasian, mostly with English as a first language, and mostly middle class). But in India, I was the minority, and that not only opened my eyes, but forced me to be brave in my interactions and trust those around me all the more.

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