Indiapendent
I've never spent a day as an independent adult in India. Sure I celebrated my 21st there, but ten days after, boarded a flight to land in the USA.
Let me interrupt myself. The good way to tell a story is to start with a beginning, solidify it with a middle, and finish with a satisfactory end. I'm not a good storyteller, and this is my blog! So I might be starting in the middle, zipping back and forth as I please, and going sideways every now and then.
So I landed in the USA, then here I am ten years later, an independent woman who can get anything done, right?. But when I took trips to India, I was as good as a child. Worse than a child, really, because as a child I was pretty independent in India. But as a grown-up, I was a foreigner even in my home city Hyderabad, and sat at home till somebody took me out. Last December we took another trip to India, and this time I ventured out, because sitting at home till somebody takes you out gets dull after a while.
First time, it was in Bangalore. It was a sleepy afternoon, MIL and little daughter were taking a nap, and husband was starting to doze off. I told him I was going to take a walk, and did. I had to be very watchful so I wouldn't get lost. It was looking easy - it wasn't even my hometown, and I was blending in very well with all the people. It was looking easy, until I opened my mouth. I stopped at a stationery shop to ask about some stickers for my daughter. My MIL told me everybody in Bangalore understands Telugu. So I started with that. The shopkeeper and the clerk stared at me like I was speaking alienese. Then I tried English. When I said "Do you have stickers?" their stares only got more confused. I had to use Hindi, my last resort. Don't get me wrong, I love Hindi. I think it sounds beautiful, only not when I speak it. Nothing. I saved myself by pointing to a pencil box, and then bought it. Luckily, I also spotted stickers under the counter, and got them again by the universal language of signs. I had got what I wanted, but I did not feel blended in anymore. I bit on my tongue and got back home.
Honestly, it was no better than in my early days in America. I spoke great English, but the Americans I spoke to didn't seem to talk in English at all. It took a while of my being in America before Americans finally learned to speak and understand English really well.Anyway.
I went out again another day. I was feeling brave, even with my language handicap. I even took my three year old with me. I went to a fruit stall, pointed at apples, and held up three fingers (mumbling incoherently). The fruitseller didn't bat an eyelid. He collected, and handed me the goods. I left it to the good man to figure out how much change to give me. The way to get about and get things done in Blore (atleast for me), is to never say a word. I was getting the hang of it. Buying three apples doesn't seem like much, but it was much to me.
Then we were in Hyderabad. Hyderabad is easier for me with languages. For one, everyone really understands Telugu, in all its forms and accents. If they don't, they'll understand Hindi, whichever way you speak it. I only got to go out alone once this time. It was an important thing I wanted to do, get a present for my parents. Time was running out, husband was away running important errands, and I decided to go for the acid test. I had three shops in my mind, in the crowdedest, noisiest, craziest part of town - Ameerpet and Panjagutta. I left daughter with mom at home, got into an auto and went to first the store, then the mall. I got another auto to take me to the third store, at which I had to pass the ultimate test - cross the Ameerpet main road. I gathered up my courage, looked to the left, then the right (and if you'd lived in America for ten years, you'd have done the same), and then ducked behind another group of people who were crossing. When I opened my eyes again, I was across. I had the present, and I had survived too!
So now I feel better about how I'd get by in India. Yes, yes, I know, I know I ain't seen nothin' yet. But I'm happy with what I seen so far.
Let me interrupt myself. The good way to tell a story is to start with a beginning, solidify it with a middle, and finish with a satisfactory end. I'm not a good storyteller, and this is my blog! So I might be starting in the middle, zipping back and forth as I please, and going sideways every now and then.
So I landed in the USA, then here I am ten years later, an independent woman who can get anything done, right?. But when I took trips to India, I was as good as a child. Worse than a child, really, because as a child I was pretty independent in India. But as a grown-up, I was a foreigner even in my home city Hyderabad, and sat at home till somebody took me out. Last December we took another trip to India, and this time I ventured out, because sitting at home till somebody takes you out gets dull after a while.
First time, it was in Bangalore. It was a sleepy afternoon, MIL and little daughter were taking a nap, and husband was starting to doze off. I told him I was going to take a walk, and did. I had to be very watchful so I wouldn't get lost. It was looking easy - it wasn't even my hometown, and I was blending in very well with all the people. It was looking easy, until I opened my mouth. I stopped at a stationery shop to ask about some stickers for my daughter. My MIL told me everybody in Bangalore understands Telugu. So I started with that. The shopkeeper and the clerk stared at me like I was speaking alienese. Then I tried English. When I said "Do you have stickers?" their stares only got more confused. I had to use Hindi, my last resort. Don't get me wrong, I love Hindi. I think it sounds beautiful, only not when I speak it. Nothing. I saved myself by pointing to a pencil box, and then bought it. Luckily, I also spotted stickers under the counter, and got them again by the universal language of signs. I had got what I wanted, but I did not feel blended in anymore. I bit on my tongue and got back home.
Honestly, it was no better than in my early days in America. I spoke great English, but the Americans I spoke to didn't seem to talk in English at all. It took a while of my being in America before Americans finally learned to speak and understand English really well.Anyway.
I went out again another day. I was feeling brave, even with my language handicap. I even took my three year old with me. I went to a fruit stall, pointed at apples, and held up three fingers (mumbling incoherently). The fruitseller didn't bat an eyelid. He collected, and handed me the goods. I left it to the good man to figure out how much change to give me. The way to get about and get things done in Blore (atleast for me), is to never say a word. I was getting the hang of it. Buying three apples doesn't seem like much, but it was much to me.
Then we were in Hyderabad. Hyderabad is easier for me with languages. For one, everyone really understands Telugu, in all its forms and accents. If they don't, they'll understand Hindi, whichever way you speak it. I only got to go out alone once this time. It was an important thing I wanted to do, get a present for my parents. Time was running out, husband was away running important errands, and I decided to go for the acid test. I had three shops in my mind, in the crowdedest, noisiest, craziest part of town - Ameerpet and Panjagutta. I left daughter with mom at home, got into an auto and went to first the store, then the mall. I got another auto to take me to the third store, at which I had to pass the ultimate test - cross the Ameerpet main road. I gathered up my courage, looked to the left, then the right (and if you'd lived in America for ten years, you'd have done the same), and then ducked behind another group of people who were crossing. When I opened my eyes again, I was across. I had the present, and I had survived too!
So now I feel better about how I'd get by in India. Yes, yes, I know, I know I ain't seen nothin' yet. But I'm happy with what I seen so far.
posted by Myna at 11:07 AM
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