I carry with me a small journal. My intentions were to fill it with life-changing accounts and adventures and other unbelievable experiences from this journey. Now I'm at the last leg of my journey and barely a quarter is used. This is not to say that there have been few things to write about or that I couldn’t think of anything to put down through the course of my time through Rajasthan and Gujarat. It's that this trip has been so busy and exhausting that I couldn’t find much time to write –either in the notebook or this blog. So instead I have been using the journal as a notepad. There are addresses, phone numbers, Hindi and Gujarati phrases, recipes, pressed flowers, a peacock feather or two, some notes about things I should write about when I get the chance, interesting or funny quotes from signs I’ve encountered along the way… The list goes on. But there are no journal entries.
It has been a little over a month away from home and I’ve decided it’s time for me to go back. There is so much to experience in India and in the rest of the world but at this point in my life I need to focus on academic work so the next time I land somewhere amazing I’ll be better prepared to work for the better good. And on the selfish side of things I miss my family and loved-ones. It’s an understatement to say that I’m in over my head here. As the poetry of Kabir and verse of the Bhagavad Gita only barely scratch the surface of the beauty of this country the images from the movie, Slumdog Millionaire don’t begin to describe the hardships. It seems like everything here is done to the extreme. Opulence, squalor. Obesity, emaciation. Fragrance, stench. Words are ill equipped to convey the ways in which Indian life differs from the life I’m used to living in New York. And as I’m sitting here ready to leave for home I know that I would if given the change return in a heartbeat. I, along with my friends from the Gr
The organization that sent me here, The Rotary International, perplexes m
I hope I have done something to promote diplomatic and cultural exchange in a war-torn world. But I would be lying if I wrote that I felt like I have gained a better understanding of the world we live in.I have had so many life-changing experiences while over here that I don’t know who I am any more. My goals in life have shifted. My perception of the world around me has been blurred. The scenes around me are often reminiscent of scenes from a Star Wars movie. Large and unusual animals everywhere, unfamiliar languages in the background, incomprehensible music on the radios, completely different perceptions of personal space… and still the people here are so much like us. There are the people that do what they can to make a living. People that worry about what others think about them. People that fear about
Because I grew up alongside and have become close with many Indian-Americans I have allowed myself to walk into this experience thinking that I knew what I was in for. At best I was better prepared to understand some customs and I had a handle on a few key phrases that proved useful throughout the travels. I knew what food I liked and didn’t like. I could get out of sticky situations by dazzling people with my faux knowledge of Bollywood songs. I am not an expert on Indian culture, languages, history, religions, or anything. In fact, my eyes have also opened to the fact that I am not an expert in any topic. And I doubt I’ll ever be. There’s just too much to learn.
And I want to end with a happy note. A few nights ago I went to see a movie in Ahmedabad -the largest city of Gujarat. While there I lost my cell phone. A man named Hardik Pathak found my phone, and cared enough to try to call somebody to locate me and return it to me. When that didn't work -he found my email address so he could return my phone to me. Pretty awesome, eh?
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