I. Jono's Indian Musings

Greetings from India! The Land of the so-cheap-it-might-as-well-be Free and the Home of the so-spicy-and-of-such-questionable-origin-that-to-put-it-in-your-mouth-you-must-be Brave. The Land of faloodah-filled-with-seeds-and-sweetened-with-syrup Milk and indo-chinese-crunchy-noodles-soaked-in-ice-cream-and Honey. The Land of the-cars-haven’t-decided-to-run-the-red-light-yet-so-let’s-cross-the-road-now’s-our Opportunity. Yes, India is like America in every way you can imagine, as long as you’ve got the handy adjectives I’ve just invented to tweak it ever so slightly.

Ok, so India and America may not be sister countries as some Indian politicians would like them to be, but there is certainly a strong connection. Indians watch American television, follow American news more closely than most Americans, listen to American music, and want to marry American girls (at least the libidinally out of control teenagers at my job do). Hmmm… so I guess it’s kind of a one way thing, like one of those mirrors in police stations, or like the Middlebury / Williams rivalry, or like my relationship with every girl I ever liked before I met Ayesha. But, like all of those things except maybe the police mirrors, this inequality is a great injustice! Americans would revel in the glamour of Bollywood and its celebrity gossip, they would be struck dumb by news of atrocities committed in Indian villages, they would all be seeking Indian spouses (if only for the seven days of festivity attached to Hindu weddings), and they would be bumping to the latest Hindi pop song (every bit as nauseating as American teenie bop stuff and extremely nasal to boot!) if only they knew about it. If only America was receiving India’s love letters, if only American media would open up to the subcontinent, if only America realized that India would be way more powerful than us in the not so distant future due to the booming tech support industry, then India’s love might be requited. But alas, America’s cold heart remains unmoved, while India pines away.

This is mostly an exaggeration, and though India is very much aware of American culture, it is so culturally rich in itself that it really should not be depicted as an unrequited lover. India is truly unique, and the power of its character cannot be overcome by even the most soulless, world-dominating, wal-marty, mcdonaldsy, corporate sources of global homogeneity out there. The golden arches are bent and flexed around India’s Hindu population, adjusting their menus to serve chicken instead of sacred beef. Supermarkets and superstores have to compete with the charm of open air markets with local farm stalls and coolies that balance your purchases on their heads while haggling with the vendors for you. Unlike France, for example, India is not offended by American cultural world dominance, nor is India afraid of it, and perhaps India is not even aware of it. The subcontinent could never be the wounded, fading hero that Europe tends to act like, and that the U.S. is quickly becoming, because prideful competition is not in its nature. India is not civilized enough for such ultimately useless notions of assessment and comparison. This country is wild, and it opens its heart to the world because it knows that it is in no danger of being tamed. India’s wildness and jubilant, blood-thumping-mad-destructive-colorful-fetid-ambrosial chaos is happy to envelope and even absorb whatever and whoever comes its way, and if you survive the fierce, disorienting whirl of the embrace, you might just end up liking the place.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, it hasn’t embraced me as fiercely as it might have. I’ve had the pleasant insulation of Malabar Hill, the up-market side of town, to come home to every night. Here I enjoy the best view in Bombay, and the city below looks pristine as the cars glide soundlessly down Marine Drive and the street lights illuminate the curve of the peaceful beach. From here it is easy to imagine that there is no trash or feces in the gutters, no disfigured, deformed beggars wheeling themselves through traffic, no religious tension, terrorism or gang-related violence in the whole country. But as soon as you step out of the building the illusion begins to fade. Fortunately, I like the fade as much as I like the illusion.