A Narration of Melancholic Elation

In the tourist circuit of Rajisthan, backpackers can be seen gathered in the evenings at the rooftop cafe of their hotels. Conversations usually go from, “How long are you in India?” to “So what are people in Ireland like?” to “How do Germans feel about Bush?” to talking about other travel experiences, gripes with India, and the beautiful aspects too.

Generalizations & stereotypes cram their way into as many comments as possible. They can be note-worthy and helpful, confusing because they contradicted a previous notion, or complete bullshit because from experience, you know they are wrong.

[Even recently, my own opinion from experience backfired on me. My new friend Vikrum Sequeira asked me for my thoughts on Goa..I told him about my experience…the good things, but I also told him that I wasn’t that impressed by the number of women, and that there were a high number of Indian men in groups on the prowl for some loving. Vikrum had the complete opposite experience - many single women & not many Indian dudes on the hunt. I was happy that he doused my perspective with the alternate.]

I met so many people during my three week run there (Rajisthan), but it was extremely difficult to tell when a connection is made. You could meet someone once for ten minutes or see them a few times and have several conversations - but it’s hard to separate the interesting from the mundane at times, and when have we reached the mutual point of thinking “Yeah cool, I actually want to stay in touch with you and exchange email addresses”? It makes me appreciate the solid friendships I have back home and the few amazing connection I’ve had from brief encounters & interactions while in India.

One evening in Mt. Abu, the only hill station in the state of Rajisthan, I was chillin’ on the rooftop of my hotel with a bunch of travellers, mostly from the U.K. A couple of them had indulged in some bung lassi, and so they were off talking about Pet Shop Boys, London, and other topics. I wasn’t really into the convo that much so I turned to a group sitting next to us and introduced myself. Instantly, one of the fellas in this bunch drew me into his thoughts with brutal honesty:

“I hate India. I hate the food, the people, everything. People here do everything half-ass, nothing is done “the best.” I have no respect for Indians. An Indian would sell his mother for one rupee. But you…you are not Indian, you are American. You are completely American.”

“I guess,” I shrugged, “but I am Indian.”

“Really?” he replied. “Do you speak Hindi?”

“No,” I said.

“Are you religious?”

“Nope.”

“Then what makes you Indian??” He asked this with a cheeky red face and a slight grin passing through the flush.
Wow, this Israeli fella had me completely stumped. “What makes me Indian?” And better yet, his follow up question was, “What is Indian?” “Because anything that’s nice & well-constructed is of British production.”
He was sitting there with 3 other Israelis. Traditionally, after finishing their two year term in the army, Israelis come to travel in India. They go to places like Pushkar, Vagator in Goa, and a few others, and can live lavishly on the rupee, although most are on a strict budget - just like most young travellers here.
He had read V.S. Naipaul and felt that his eyes were being cheated from what he had envisioned through reading.
Well, I tried my best to avoid his question and address my concern with his strong disgust for the country.

“Well, how long have you been travelling in India?” I asked him.

“Less than two weeks, just here in Rajisthan.”

“Well, Rajisthan is a rough place to get an all-encompassing view of India from. People here are like vultures and want everything they can possible from the many tourists coming here.”

He answers, “Yeah, they have their Ganesh on the wall and are willing to rip me off for 10 rupees (25 cents). That’s the height of religious hypocrisy!”

“Yeah, that’s something I wonder about.”

A British guy chimed in, “Yeah, but you gotta do what you gotta do to survive. And even though 10 rupees doesn’t sound like much to you, it is to him. And it can add up from all the people he pulls it from.”

I then asked him, “So what’s your beef with the food?” (I surely didn’t phrase it like that, but I might as well have).

“Well, the food is terrible. I only eat to survive another day. This Thali stuff is crap…I love my meat and am missing it like crazy.”

“Yeah, I feel you on that. I mean thali can get a bit monotonous after a while. But have you ever had Tandoori Chicken? Mutton Biryani? Sikh Kebab?

“Uhh, no, vhat’s that?”

“See come on now. You can’t generalize Indian food by the vegetarian food in Rajisthan. It’s completely different from the veg in the South and carnivorous grub throughout.”

I felt bad for the guy. He still had a few months left of travelling in the subcontinent and he was set on his feelings and not looking forward to the rest of his adventure. He also hated Coelho’s The Alchemist and Kundera’s Unbearable Lightness of Being. Definitely not an optimist. He would not respect an Indian and when I asked him, “So do you respect ‘An American’?” He retorted with a “No. He is selfish and only looking for personal gain.” Extreme views he had many, generalizations he had them, too. But there was something about him that intigued me and I wanted to know his views on even more things. I hope I can find his email and see how his trip has progressed.

I know that nationalism is created by having a shared historical experience(s) and since I’ve obviously not grown up here, I have no Indian national identity. It’s gotta be something more than the color of my skin and the fact that “I like the food.”

I didn’t get to answering his question although I felt like answering his question with a question: “What makes you Israeli?”
If I learn Hindi and become religious, then am I suddenly Indian. By this time next year, I could be Indian, yes!

“India is both heaven and hell,” a Dutch man tells me on the train from Bangalore to Madras (Chennai). And this is so damn true. It can be a brutally difficult place for travellers with the language barrier, the scorch, “vultures”, etc. It is a rough place for the native as well, but even after travelling outside of his home the Indian national knows that there is something that keeps him on the soil of the subcontinent. Even if he/she had the money to move to the States he wouldn’t (Yes, I’m generalizing now - there are plenty of Indians wanting to come and make it in the States). They know the mentality, the rat race, the social norms, the people. There’s something that causes him to kiss the street when he returns home from abroad.

Generalizations can be helpful but many of the ones I’ve heard can now be squashed. It’s like when Mister Muckerjee asked me, “So what are American girls like.” I could tell him that they’re pretty superficial, blonde, dumb, etc. But come on!!, I don’t know what the prototype of an American woman is. I feel like I know some very intelligent, ambitious, beautiful, and progressive females so that completely annhilates any stereotype that can be made regarding American women.

Back to India being both heaven and hell. It’s those hellacious facets that make the heavenly ones that much more intense & awesome. Unfortunately, we human beings tend to remember/accentuate/emphasize the negative qualities & experiences. I feel like I might do that as well in conversation, but I try not to.

It kills me when women (particularly foreign travellers) tell me about the harassment they receive in India. It causes me to feel ill, shame, and contempt for the Indian male. One of the Icelandic girls in Gangtok told me that of Latin America, Africa, and India - India was by far the worst sexual harrassment she’d experienced. That’s terrible and causes me to take a completely opposite & chill approach during my social interactions with females - meaning I try to act like I don’t ven notice that they are there. India seems to be in multiple transitions, especially in the social realm. Men are not used to women wearing skirts & tanktops so they don’t know how to react. But wait!!..isn’t the entire mid-section shown when a sari is worn!!Can you say double-standard? Or is there just that universal myth that foreign women are “easy.” It’s ridiculous that guys here will get a cheap thrill from brushing up against a woman. Then what? Does he go up to his buddies and say, “Hey, I came within 5 inches of her boob man (accent included).

Vikrum talks about a “vivacious” Londoner he met he Palolem Beach, Goa. She tells him:

“I was in Rajastan during Holi. It was not easy. Holi seems to be an excuse for Indian men to molest women. One man ran up to me, threw rang in my face, grabbed my face, and then moved his hands down and groped my breasts. Another guy ran up to me, threw color in my face, and grabbed my crotch. I punched both of them afterwards.
In Calcutta people would walk up to me and say, ‘Are you married? No? Do you want to have sex with me?’ But I slapped those guys as well.”

My point from all this is that it’s quite unfortunate when a foreigner goes back home, forgets the phenomenal aspects of their experience in India, and only conveys/reiterates/expresses the negative - like male groping. I’m even sure that when I return could and rattle off my peeves that I have to my friends… but I hope I can balance it out with the other end of the spectrum. I also hope that the Indian man can evolve and be calm with the progress & liberation of women in India.

Nationalism is an infantile disease. It is the measles of mankind.” ~Albert Einstein

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