I leave India tonight. I can’t even believe it. There is so much that I will miss. But still, I actually feel less sad and sentimental than I did when I left Bombay two and a half years ago. Because now I know that I will be back. I really don’t think of this as leaving India; I think of this as a trip away. Ok well, literally, I’ll be back in mid-December with my family, for some traveling. So that makes the leaving a whole lot easier. But honestly. I am going to find ways to keep coming back here and I’m sure that part of my career will involve India. So there you go.
Last night I went to a big Dandiya party with some of the Fulbrighters. Dandiya is an annual dance at this time of year, originated in Gujarat, that happens with sticks. At which people do all of the typical bhangra/bollywood moves, but waving sticks. So at this party last night, there were about 80 people up on a stage, dancing around and nearly whacking each other in the head at every second. The four of us were the only Americans, and the press was all over it. The Times of India took a photo of me and Bryce and claim that it will be in the paper on Thursday (the day AFTER I leave!!!). Some local TV channels filmed and interviewed us. The reporter told us beforehand to say that we’ve come from the US to India just for Dandiya, and that we are loving it. So we did. The reporter asked me, “How do you like India?” I shouted into the microphone, “I love it! I want to stay forever!!”
After the brush with the paparazzi, we continued on our dancing way. I love love love Indian dancing. Both old folk dances and more contemporary Bollywood-influened stuff. My friend Sheng knows how to dance to everything and taught me some of her moves. And I remembered dancing a year ago at the Mussoorie Tavern with some students from my language school. That night, they’d put Bollywood music on at the bar and encouraged all of us foreigners to get up there and dance away. I loved the dances, and in particular I loved how everyone danced, from the little kids to the grandparents. Dancing here is such a warm and inviting activity—at every party, at every occasion with music, someone pulls you to the dance floor.
In many ways I’ve come full circle. I arrived in India on October 11, 2006. Raj Chatterjea, my aunt Lucy’s friend, picked me up at the airport and took me back to his family’s house. The next night, I went with Raj’s wife Briar and their daughter Braelyn to an Odissi dance performance at Purana Qila, the Old Fort. On October 11, 2007, I went to the very same dance performance! Again it was outdoors, with candles lighting the way, the majestic Purana Qila behind the stage, the same strains of Indian classical music and the same sinuous, graceful dance.
And a year later, I am leaving India. It’s been a special year. Sure, it hasn’t always been great by any means and at many times I’ve been ready to get the heck out. But I do know that I’ve learned more this year than any other year of my life (take that, Ivy League education). I’m sad to leave this experience but I’m also ready to move on and take the next step.
But what I will miss. If I had to say one thing, I will miss the intensity of India. The intensity of color, sound, smell, the constant bombardment of senses, the constant crowding of people. In India you are never alone. There are people everywhere. Friends of mine who have gone back to the States after a long time in India say that the streets feel eerily deserted. But not only are there people everywhere in India, there is constant encroachment of your personal space. People push and shove into you all the time. Beggars thrust their hands in your faces as you walk the streets or drive in an auto. Vendors chase after you for a whole block and call at you to buy their goods. There is always someone staring at you. There is always someone shouting at you, “Madam! Madam!” A simple task of buying milk at the market becomes an endeavor of pushing through people, warding off aggressive shop-keepers, risking your life to cross the street, weaving around cows who have decided to sit on the sidewalk. Sometimes I detest the lack of privacy and personal space, and the challenge of doing absolutely any simple task here. But I’ve also become used to it. I worry that the United States will feel empty to me, that everything will be so easy and routine that I will miss this constant challenge and excitement of India.
Immediately, I’ll be doing a little traveling on the way home. I arrive in Winston-Salem on November 5th, and then I hope to start doing some job-searching, some career-thinking, some India-reflecting, and some writing on my research here. Who knows what I’ll do next—I’m afraid to say that I have no idea myself.
If you’re still reading this blog, do keep checking it. I am going to make belated posts about certain things that I’ve done or that have happened to me here in India. I will also try to post about the cultural re-adjustment process that I know will happen when I arrive back in the States. My traveling in between India and the States. And maybe maybe I’ll put up some pictures.
