Living bilingually

I leave India in less than 24 hours. I should probably write some sappy post, but I don't have the emotional energy for that right now. It induces too many tears. I'll try to write something when I get home, I suppose.

One of things I'm going to miss most about India is living bilingually. Now, don't take this to mean I am bilingual and fluent in Hindi. Abso-freakin'-lutely not. I am faaaar from fluent and am reluctant to even call myself proficient (though people tell me my high intermediate/low advanced/able-to-get-by-and-have-slightly-above-basic-conversations level actually is the definition of proficiency).

Regardless of my proficiency or lack thereof, I will miss the frequent code-switching into Hindi. I'm going to miss joking about the dearth of shakarkand (sweet potatoes) with my local subziwallah (vegetable salesman), interviewing members of the Gujjar tribe about their way of life while walking in the foothills of the Himalaya, asking my tabla teacher about the tabla-making industry, chatting with families sharing my compartment on trains, and even, yes, bargaining with autowallahs. I'm going to miss all of the basic, everyday interactions that take place in Hindi, from ordering daal-chawal for lunch to flagging down a cycle-rickshaw to shopping for kurtas.

I'm also going to miss speaking in Hinglish, from false-flirting with Ahluddin to discussing Arundhati Roy's pro-Maoist politics with Surabhi. And of course, I'm going to miss injecting individual Hindi words into my English speech (or "chutnefying" my English, if you will)--although I'm not sure this will be an easy habit to drop when I get back to the States (I apologize in advance!).

Living in another language, even if only half the time, is a lot of fun. And in case you haven't figured it out yet, I'm going to miss it.

...I'm going to be that weird white girl who seeks out Hindi-speaking people at the Indian grocery store, aren't I?

Community Destruction Day

I was looking through my old posts, and found this little gem from back in January that for some reason I forgot to publish:

Electricity goes out quite frequently in my office in Shanan. The power outage usually lasts anywhere from 10 minutes to 2 or 3 hours. But one time, back in October, the power went out for the entire day. During a power outage, we cannot do work because, obviously, the computers are off. Instead of working, this is what happens:

some people read the Hindi newspaper

others sit around looking badass

and some people gossip (shh! don't tell!) and laugh

and others pretend to do work (here, Harsh and Mudit are translating something into Hindi that has already been translated)

and some go crazy with the boredom

but really, I have no idea what's going on.

On this particular day, our boss decided that if we couldn't do work, we might as well do something else useful: Community Clean-Up Day. People in Shanan litter, so we should pick up the trash. Sounds like a good idea, right?

Wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.

I knew something odd was up when a coworker grabbed a box of matches before going outside. Matches meant fire. And why was fire necessary for picking up litter? Oh no, I thought. They're going to burn the trash! Because that's environmentally-friendly. I grabbed my pollution mask in preparation. And it was a good thing I did, because my suspicions were right: people threw the trash they had picked up into an ever-growing fire.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, my coworker Dinesh came running toward us wielding a machete. Where did he get a machete? And why did he require a machete in the first place? To my horror, I watched as he started hacking at a tree.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" I yelled in English, too shocked to think in Hindi.

But Dinesh could not hear me over the roar of the fire.

"I think he's cutting down the tree," Shatabdi explained.

"Yes BUT WHY?!" I cried.

"I... don't know."

Then Harsh and Negi explained, "there is a lot of trash in that tree."

So let's get this straight. Instead of picking out the individual pieces of trash from the branches, Dinesh decided it would be more efficient to CUT DOWN THE TREE.

Wait, I think we need to back up even more. The goal of the day's activities was to clean up the environment. Instead of helping the environment, we were KILLING it. Oh, so that tree has a lot of trash in it? I have a brilliant idea! Let's just get rid of the tree altogether! Then surely the trash will be gone too! ...I guess that logic makes sense. Except that I thought we were ridding the environment of trash to save the trees?! Cannot. Comprehend.

Now, cutting down the tree was not enough. As I have mentioned earlier, the standard way to dispose of garbage is to burn it. Since there was trash in this tree, naturally the tree must also be kindled. The tree that never should've been cut down in the first place. The tree that, if it must be burned, could have been at least utilized to fuel a traditional stove.

The tree, though small, is still a tree. The fire grew quite large and probably threatened the surrounding houses, fields, and natural vegetation, hence threatening not only the environment, but also people's shelter and livelihood. But the worst was the immense amount of smoke. The entire village became enshrouded in it. Even my pollution mask was rendered useless as the smoke from the forest-and-trash fire penetrated through its filter and into my lungs. Great for people's health. Basically, Community Clean-Up Day had very quickly become Community Destruction Day.

Dinesh pushing the tree down the hill after his final chop, amid the smoke from burning trash

burn, baby, burn! felled tree on fire

final scene of destruction: trash and tree burning

All this turned out not to matter, because a construction project that started in December has completely leveled that hill. Nothing is left but a pile of brown dirt. [NOTE: Since January, that pile of brown dirt has become a paved parking lot for bus servicing and repairs.]

At the time, I was furious. Like tomato-red-face, steam-coming-out-of-ears (or was that just smoke from the burning trash?) furious. But now I cannot retell this story without laughing like a crazed hyena. Seriously. I could barely type this post I was laughing so hard. I'm sure there's some lesson to be learned from all of this, but I'm not quite sure what that lesson is.

Transition: it sucks.

Bad news: I leave India on August 11. Waaaaah I don't want to leave!!

Good news: I land on American soil on August 12. Pretty excited for a fully-automatic washing machine and dryer (no more handwashing clothes! no more monkeys stealing my underwear off clotheslines!) and showerheads with hot water (no more cold bucket baths!). Ok, and maybe I'm excited to see my family and friends, too.

From India to the United States, from working/traveling to studying. This transition is going to be super tough. I'm already dreading the giant American grocery stores (reverse culture shock is worse than the initial culture shock) and the endless problem sets (I've always hated homework, and now I'm out of the habit).

I'm handling this transition terribly. Just thinking about the fact that I'm leaving India sparks a flood of tears. I'm going to be a complete mess in the airport. I'm already a mess.

I'm spending my last 10 days traveling around North India visiting some friends, to say my final goodbyes. I already said my goodbyes to a few people in South India, including Prashanth and Indrani (but I made the grave error of not going over to Tamil Nadu to say goodbye to some Pondi people), and a Delhiite who won't be around later, Anand. The prolonged process of saying goodbye really, really sucks. Not only because the whole leaving-India thing feels drawn out this way, but also because the goodbyes could be permanent. I like to think it's not, but I really don't know if or when I'll be back in this country, my home for two years. And it is precisely this uncertainty of return that is giving me a nervous breakdown about leaving.

In conclusion, transition sucks. :'(