As a warning this journal will be full of piecemeal information like the above. I don’t seem to get all the proper facts, either from not knowing just what questions to ask or because of some ‘untranslatable’. I have faith that at a certain point all these things that don’t make full sense will mature into actual reasons or ideas…and you, dear reader, will simply have to be patient with me.
India as facts:
It has been over a week since I have been here and I haven’t been able to write because I have been without a charger / converter for my computer.
Presently, I am in the city of Hyderabad which is in the state of Andhra Pradesh in the Deccan Plateau of India, basically the center (or some would say South-Central) India. It is farming country, mostly rice and maize, and apparently, Hyderabad used to be a small ‘village’ (people say) but you would never know it now. The city is technically 6.5 million but like most metropolitan areas that doesn’t count commuters. Also, I learned from a Indian man on the flight over: most Indians over 30 do not have birth certificates or an id number that is traceable by the state. So, there is little way to know for sure how many people live anywhere. There are driver’s licenses but many don’t have them. So when people move from state to state there is little to no way to track them. Also, interesting (though somewhat tangential) for the first nine days of a babies life it is traditional not to name it – so many people have records that just say “Girl” or “Boy” baby.
Anyway, there are a lot of ‘Girl’ and ‘Boy’ babies here, but I don’t feel this surge of population as people said I would. Or, I feel it sparingly, like on the bus at rush hour [which is going to be an entry all of its own, once I manage a good picture].
Mostly, I feel foreign, which bring with itself both the good and the bad. The bad things about sticking out - the constant stares and pointing and the occasional being pegged with fruit from a homeless woman fruit and most of all the being ripped off - are all things that are straining on the surface. Of course, they have the ability to destroy a day and make one angry and tired and feel like yelling. And sometimes I do. And, I am sure there will be entries in the future full of frustration and bitter words written after a long day. I will try to spare you, but here's the fare warning. BUT, mostly, I find that being a foreigner, particularly being an American in India elicits nothing but questions, handshakes, invitations to dinner. On a small note, today I went to get my ID card from the University Press Office. I passed 2 rupees through the barred window for a blank card and handed the woman one of the 30 passport photos I carry with me. She looked at the photo, then up at me.... "You are from?" "US," I said, "America." She smiled and asked "Do you like my country?" "Very much", I said, "I'm new here and every one is very kind." "I like your country too," she answered, "But I love my India."
