Charmingly Incongruent

It comes as a surprise even to myself, but I believe I'm beginning to develop an appreciation for this city. It seems to be a hotspot, east-meets-west kind of “melting pot” that seems representative of the huge changes taking place in many parts of India right now. Of course, not everything is exactly melting…just riding the metro escalator the other night was a bit of a shock. Underneath the melee of vehicles and horns in the traffic circle that is Connaught Place lies the cool, clean, regulated environment of Delhi’s sleek new metro system.

The metro is everything that India is not: clean, organized and efficient. It’s something you would expect to see only in major world-class cities. Eight rupees, three stops, finish. For me it’s a perfect symbol of India’s vast potential. I think explosive new developments are on the horizon, but how or what is anybody’s guess...

Of course the Indian hoards push, shove, and cram their way around each other in the metro station, but people are people whether they live in Delhi or DC, right? In fact, some other things here remind me of DC, like the high-cost living and the extremes of wealth and poverty. It’s a capital city so it also has its share of posh neighborhoods, exclusive hotels, clubs and restaurants to indulge the elite peoples. I suppose the stink of corruption is the same everywhere, but Delhi is exciting, too. It seems to be latching onto western ideas and conventions faster than it can properly assimilate them, creating the quintessential Indian experience of Complete Incongruity.

Where Strange is the Status Quo

As I often say, travelling around India is like living in a video game: anything can and will happen at any moment and you should be ready to expect nothing and accept everything. Circumstances from every inch of the pain-pleasure spectrum are bound to arise, so arm yourself in advance with a sunny disposition.

Because some things will happen that cannot be changed or reversed. Good examples include stepping past my ankles into that pool of Indian street sludge in Haridwar (near Rishikesh). Also, losses can be difficult to appreciate, whether it’s my cherished and irreplaceable rose-coloured Serengeti sunglasses (Madras, January 2003) or my passport and visa. Many people suffer needlessly at the discovery of a loss, but in this game you get more points for adapting. “Easy come, easy go” is the mantra. Difficult circumstances are just karmas getting worked out. Besides, nothing is permanent as good times are always just around the next corner...

Whether it’s haggling with a rickshaw walla or begging foreign service officers for mercy, whatever you do here will require your full attention. And remember to be chill (shantih), because it’s going to take time. And communication will be challenging, because one, two, or three little head bobbles will mean “yes,” “no,” “maybe,” and “I don’t know,” all at the same time. Ambiguity is the rule. Answer someone with a head bobble and sometimes it is definitive.

It’s also helpful to learn how to effectively shield yourself from the general insanity, especially if you are a woman. Dark glasses and a tightly wrapped headscarf in the Arabic style are my current foundation for “the wall.” These items help me maintain the expressionless look that is my first protection: no smiles, no glances, no fiddling around in my bag, no nothing. Maybe this seems simple or straightforward, but for me it is a struggle. My nature is one of laughter and frivolity. I like to make jokes. And I think I may dig awkwardly in my bag for the rest of my life…

YES, I am from Punjab!!!

Sometimes when I’m feeling a little down, a little bloated, or a little frustrated by circumstances I cannot control, I suddenly notice that all my clothes have stains or don’t fit right, that my upper arms resemble jell-o, or that my chin is getting furry. Perhaps these things exist only in my imagination, but when moments like these arrive I know exactly what remedy to apply: shopping and grooming. For better or worse, this is my culture and training.

So when my dear friend Maria was having a hair crisis, we headed directly to a posh salon for some treatments. While M had a cut, I took advantage of the threading, a painful but fascinating method of facial hair removal that I first discovered here in India. No less than three people pulled my face in all directions while they removed hairs using only a thread. The process took more than half an hour and came with free coffee, all for just 30 rupees (75 cents)!

But I didn’t stop there…I decided it was time to buy a proper Punjabi suit, the traditional dress for Indian women second only to the saree (which I am not yet ready to adopt). I found a decent one for 400 rupees (10 USD) and had it tailored in half an hour. Then, to complete the transformation, I bought Punjabi-style leather slippers for 300 rupees (7.50 USD). It was a splurge, but it did the trick. Today I am feeling better, walking around like a Punjabi girl and getting smiles from every direction. They really do love it.

And I really do love it, too..

Enough rambling for now. All my best to you people in the established world. Anytime you’re ready for some video game-style living you know where to go…

And thank you, thank you, thank you everyone!

Love always,
LMA