2 of 6

That evening I went to a football (soccer) game with Subhash, Manydas (jokingly nick named “money” or “black money” or “mini-das,” he’s short and has dark skin for an Indian, I'll just call him 'Money' for simplicity), and Satish (“sat-eesh”). The stadium is adjacent to campus and a short bike/auto ride away; it’s the largest in the whole state and is part of this larger sports complex that looks pretty new. The stands are big concrete steps, you don’t sit in seats. That match was Turkistan vs. Afghanistan, although I was more interested in talking with those around me than paying attention to the game. There was an older man sitting behind me; he tapped my shoulder and asked if I’d like some coffee from the nearby vender. I thanked him and politely refused. He got a confused look on his face and asked “Why?” It wasn’t like he was insulted or anything, it just didn’t really make sense, I mean, why wouldn’t you want a tasty warm drink? I’ve heard that in India people expect that you take what is offered to you more than in the States, where offering something to someone is more just a polite gesture, likely to be refused anyway. If you refuse something offered, often people will continue to ask until you accept. So the second time he asked me, I accepted, and we all had coffee. The man loves football; he attends these games at Gachibowli stadium daily. He also loves to converse, and took it upon himself to teach me more Hindi. After riding back from the game on our bikes and cycles, we all ate at Gops.

Bikes are motorcycles, cycles are bikes. Why we confuse them doesn’t make any sense to my friends, but if one more closely compares the words that I’m used to calling them, my confusion is maybe justified.

Gops is the student center nearest to the Guest House and International Students Hostel. It consists of three eateries: South Indian, North Indian, and ….this other one that I guess is a mix. Only two are operating, the North Indian one (what I heard was the best) was recently closed down due to cases of food poisoning and sanitation concerns. There is also a beauty parlor, a convenience store, and a fruit/vegetable/juice stand. The juice from there is amazing and made fresh right there; they usually add masala, salt, and black pepper to the juice for more “flavor,” but my favorite is just the plain juice (typical I guess if you’re not used to spicy juice). My favorite juice is grape, and they also serve apple, pineapple, pomegranate, and mosambi (sweet lime/lemon). This reminds me of several contradictions that I’d like to point out that I’ve noticed about society here.

The organic/natural foods movement is huge in the States, or at least from what I’ve seen. With accompanying reactions against GM foods, organic and whole foods are prized above food that has been modified in some way. From what I’ve seen in India, whole fruit is available everywhere (eg. juice stand, eg. everywhere on the streets), but at the same time artificial flavoring is big. This really confused me. I asked several Indians if they prefer artificial or natural flavoring; artificial usually wins. I guess they think it tastes better. You won’t find a packaged juice without sugar and so labeled “permitted class II” artificial flavors and preservatives. I’m not sure what the prevalence of genetic modification/pesticide usage is like here, maybe there’s less to react against than in the States, or maybe it’s just a different system of values.

Women are to be covered; females in this program were warned continuously about proper wear. Some women here cover themselves totally except for the eyes. At the same time, the sides of the body are generally exposed to an extent that you would NEVER see in the States. Especially with saris, the flowing fabric wraps around the whole body except for the right arm and the left side down to the waist. My history teacher’s love handles are constantly available for all to see. An aged female in the states would likely never dare expose this sensitive region that provides a glimpse at your true weight/body figure.

Sometimes you are to be independent and self-sufficient, other times you are to be served, whether you want to be or not. You are ALWAYS (at least as far as I’ve seen) served your food; I’m really not used to this and like taking exactly the portion that I require of exactly the dishes I want. That’s pretty hard to do here though because the food is sometimes blocked from reach or the ladles pointed toward the back by the servers; you just usually say or point to the dishes you want, and they pour it on. The other day Melissa was riding on the back of my bike when her skirt got caught in my rear wheel. She was stuck to the bike, but not for long, as several Indians came right away to help. Soon a crowd gathered to help us of at least half a dozen people. We (or rather, they) ended up shattering a pane of glass from alongside the road and using the shards to cut her skirt away from the wheel. The remaining jammed fabric was removed by Money who had to take the chain off and dig and dig at the fabric to remove it. Two Indians ended up cutting their hands and bleeding throughout the process. Even if we had refused their help, there was little we could have done aside from running away that would have prevented them from coming to our aid. At the same time, some things you’re expected to do on your own. Dr. Pande (history) handed out one syllabus to a student, and if we wanted a copy, we were to go after class to the copy room to generate one from the sole distributed copy. Reading material is SO FREAKING DIFFICULT to get you hands on. I’ve described the library process. Sometimes you have to go to the department to get things copied, sometimes you have to check the library, sometimes it’s on the internet, sometimes it’s God knows where. The point is that the professors don’t provide material to the extent I’m used to (Blackboard, library reserve, etc.); you’re expected to locate the material by any means, even if it means that you go to the roadside book stands in the middle of the city to get it.

Even though sometimes people will come up to me out of the blue and start a conversation, Indian students in general seem very quiet. Not only in everyday conversation will they usually use “six inch” voices, but especially in class there’s really no student participation, even if the professor is shouting at the students to respond. On the other hand though, students rarely raise their hands, if they have a comment, they’ll just kindof say it aloud. It’s very interesting and different from what I’m used to. That’s another thing, there are never questions, only comments if anything. Class is lecture, there is neither discussion nor active student participation like I’m used to. I’m also not used to 2 hour long classes. The worst is right after a huge lunch, the classes from 2-4, I mean. It just tires you out, eating a lot, and especially when you’re sitting in a comfortable chair for a long period of time, with air conditioning or fans cooling you and blowing in your eyes, it’s all I can do to force my eyes to remain open, let alone follow what the professor is saying.

Breakfast is 8-9, lunch from 1-2, and dinner from 7-8. A noon lunch is really really early. A dinner at 6 is also really really early, you won’t see students at the canteens during those times when in the States, usually those are the times when GQ or Garden Room is packed.

Guys will embrace each other here more than in the States. For me this is extremely confusing. It’s not that I can’t understand why this is the way it is here, it is just that it is significantly not what I’m used to. From my perspective, it seems that much of growing up has to do with legitimizing yourself, and this is done through seeking the acceptance of your peers. In terms of legitimizing oneself as a sexual and mature individual, male/male contact is taboo as the authenticity of one’s heterosexuality is at stake. All too much of the common social scene in the States seems to me as being structured around establishing one’s heterosexuality (and by extension, masculinity, and vice versa as well) by following gender role guidelines. Such guidelines it is easy to see have been constructed in different ways for different societies. While wrapping an arm around the shoulder of another male may or may not be all that strange to see in the States, keeping that arm there for an extended period of time certainly is. Of course there’s the holding hands part as well. But at the same time it’s different here in that there seems to be less distance between people “holding” hands. In the States holding hands is a symbol of mutual affection, something that is declared for all to see, hands tightly embraced. Here it is sometimes hard to tell whether or not hands are actually being “held;” people will walk right next to each other and kindof dangle their hands down, cupping their hands over one another’s lightly or barely at all. Sometimes you’ll see fingers interlocked, but this light cupping is more prevalent than what I would consider “holding.” Sometimes there will be lines of half a dozen men embracing each other in this way. Coming from a background where contact in general is questionable, such displays are downright perplexing because obviously the interpretations that I’ve constructed over time, built within the context of the States, are not valid anymore.

Women usually don’t engage in much contact with anyone in general. They’re more quiet also and don’t jump at the opportunity to engage in a discussion. In a setting where it’s also uncommon for a female to start a conversation with a male, the women of the SIP program are kindof caught between a rock and a hard place if they want to meet people, male or female. Women usually only associate amongst themselves, although some gender mixing can be observed. This gender separation is probably perpetuated, among other things, by the separate dorms (male-female living spaces are practically on the other ends of the campus). It is interesting as well to observe that in my history class, males sit on one side of the classroom, females on the other.

I feel like an anthropologist. So I’ll continue. In the state of Gujrat, a “tsk” sound made with the back edge of the tongue means “no.” If someone is to respond “yes,” in general on campus or around Hyderabad, you will get (maybe in addition to the head bobble) a “ha” sound that literally means “yes” but can be easily confused with “huh?” Context with facial and head expression is needed to interpret the response if you don’t know whether a “huh” or “ha” has been issued. It is also problematic when you respond to someone with a legitimate “huh?” (which happens frequently), and he or she understands it as “yes.” Let’s take an example, maybe a conversation at the dinner table: *Do yoo eh-speek Hin-di?* “Huh?” *Hah, yes, ok.* “aap cardamom pasand karte hai?” [‘do you like cardamom?’…I hate cardamom] “Huh??” *Hah, yes, ok, yoo must trry dis dish den.*

That’s something I’d just like to point out briefly. I HATE cardamom. There are several things I’ve gotten used to and grown to like, for example the mint things that taste like licorice (I don’t traditionally like licorice); and now I have it after about every meal. I love the food, and I love the spice, but I can’t grow into this cardamom. Fortunately, if it is in a dish then it will be present in one bite where you break the kernel which fills your palate with this perfumey eucalyptus/chlorine essence, overriding any other pleasant taste already there. Rarely does this trauma happen more than once or twice a meal. Sometimes they grind it up and put it in pudding; I can pick that taste out immediately. I can even pick it out in the chai that is served (but continue to drink it anyway because it is sweet and delicious). That’s my grievance, now it’s off my chest. I LOVE Indian food more than any other, but just like anything else in this world, nothing is perfect.