Of meltdowns that come without warning

I wrote this post back in May, towards the end of one of the most terrifying periods of my life. I wrote it, decided not to post it, and life went on.

***************

In my last year of college, there was this day I was supposed to present to the class on something. I can't remember what the topic was, but I remember the room, and the visual of my classmates sitting in one row, my favourite professor in her wheelchair, and me standing off on the side, holding my notes in my hand. For some reason, before I was to begin, the professor had started talking about the day her father died. And as she spoke, in her trademark matter of fact way,  every single girl in the room started sobbing, except me. I stood there, wondering I wasn't crying like everyone else.

She finally turned to me, rolled her eyes, and complimented me for not crying like everyone else. And indicated I should begin. I started speaking, stopped, took a deep breath, started again, and then turned around, faced the wall, and sobbed my heart out, while my professor clucked exasperatedly behind me.

***************

Four years ago, the day after the garage incident, I walked into work, and went straight to a conference room to join my work BFF for our weekly call with our counterparts from a partner organization. The call had already started when I entered, so I gave a cheery "Hi!" as I sat down. Someone asked me a question, I started speaking, stopped, took a deep breath, started again, and somehow kept going. The call ended, and as I started gathering my things, my BFF looked at me and said, "ok, what's wrong?"

***************

That morning in May, a few months ago, we had a call with a team I hadn't spoken with in a few weeks. I listed out my agenda, and then before we could dive into the first issue, one of my coworkers piped up saying - before we start, just one other thing. Is your family okay? 

I'd been living a nightmare for close to a month at that point, waking up every morning in terror, wondering what new names I'd hear that day. The weekends were the hardest, because there wasn't even work to distract me from my constant doomscrolling.

And at some point in the previous two weeks, a memo had gone out across America - check in on your Indian friends and coworkers. But somehow, this was the first time someone had done it on a public forum like this. So far, I'd gotten texts or messages, or been asked during one-on-one calls, all of which was appreciated and relatively easier to handle. But being asked on a call like this, while still appreciated, was just a bit startling. But I gave what had become my standard response to all of these inquiries, and kept going.

And then that afternoon, I had about ten minutes between calls, and decided to use it to glance at twitter a bit. I had consciously not looked at worldometers all day, due to some Big. Meetings. in the morning. But since I had ten minutes, I opened twitter, and this was the first tweet I saw.

BREAKING: India has reported over 414,433 new coronavirus cases, the highest of any country since the pandemic began, and 3,920 new deaths.

— The Spectator Index (@spectatorindex) May 6, 2021

414,000 new cases. Almost 4,000 new deaths. And you know those numbers were woefully, and criminally, undercounted and underreported.

I saw this tweet, and dialed into my call, which was going to be my boss, her peers, and their boss. Started saying I was going to share my screen for the discussion, at which point it was helpfully pointed out I was on mute. I managed to unmute, share my screen, and started laying out what we needed to accomplish. And then it happened.

I started speaking, stopped, took a deep breath, started again, and the tears came gushing out. I kept presenting, speaking over everyone who was trying to say something, pretending like there's nothing strange whatsoever about a woman talking about aligning on a baseline forecast while she has tears streaming down her face. My coworkers on the call, bless them, realised I wanted to just get through it, and let me. I got IMs, some during, some after the call. Every single one of them telling to stop apologising for my meltdown.

I stopped apologising, but I really wished my brain would give me some indication of a forthcoming meltdown going forward.

***************

Things got better after that. They got much worse first, but they got better. The one person I was most terrified for during that period thankfully got through the summer, and is now mom to the cutest baby in the world. We all know there's another wave coming, but no one knows when. 

I don't know why I'm finally posting this now, but for whoever is reading this, I do hope you and your loved ones are safe, and getting through this crazy time in history as best as you can.

Where I wonder about symbols

It's been a very difficult few months, with everything going on in India. Of the nine years since I've moved away, the distance has never felt greater than it has since December. I've started and stopped writing a number of rambling posts since then, and even the ones I've completed are still sitting in my drafts, because it hasn't felt right to publish them. But I overheard a conversation yesterday that intrigued me, and prompted this set of ramblings.

The first anti-CAA protest I went to was on a freezing morning last December, in front of the Indian Embassy. It had been organized pretty much overnight, in response to the early violence that had taken place in Jamia Milia. Maybe 20-30 people had shown up, heard a few speeches, chanted a few chants, and rolled our eyes at the embassy officials peering at us through the curtains. One of the moments that has stayed with me from that cold (very cold, and I'd forgotten my gloves) was a gentleman who was wearing a black overcoat and a saffron scarf, who spoke of reclaiming the saffron - why should this colour become associated with a movement so filled with hate and bigotry? It's a colour with beauty, with meaning far more than what it has become now, and so he was reclaiming it.

I was back at the same spot yesterday evening for another protest; fifty or so people had shown up this time. This time, as it happened, I was wearing a saffron-ish scarf, which I realised much later. But there was a conversation that took place that I overheard, and wanted to think through.

The protest was pretty much over, but most people were still there, and the crowd was trying* to sing Hum kaagaz nahi dikayenge and Hum honge kamyaab. Then someone suggested singing the national anthem. And there was immediate push back - if you sing the national anthem in front of the embassy, it'll seem like we're singing in praise of the government. And the same gentleman from last time asked why that should matter. Why should we, as Indians, give up singing a song that means something to us, because it's been turned into a symbol by those who stand for hate?

One of the most traumatic videos from the past week - and there have been so many - is the one of a group of boys, beaten, bleeding, being forced to sing the national anthem. By cops. One of them has now died I believe. Unsurprisingly, there has been no action taken against the cops who did this.

I still stand for the Indian national anthem when I hear it. I stand if I'm in a crowd, in a movie theater**, or if I'm alone in my living room watching a cricket match or the Republic Day parade. One of the most beautiful sounds in the world is 52 seconds*** of listening to a full stadium sing the anthem.

And just because the notions of what counts for nationalism and anti-nationalism no longer has anything to do with patriotism or actual love for your country shouldn't mean we give up singing this song that still means a lot to many of us.

A lot of us who have spent the last several months alternating between rage and despair are in those states because of our love for India, and because of what people are doing to India in the name of nationalism. And it's a pity when we have to stop and think about whether singing the national anthem, or showing any symbol of love or pride for our country, our religion, our culture, feels wrong because of what they've been turned into by those we're opposed to.

I don't know how the conversation yesterday ended, because I left soon after. But I hope they ended up singing the national anthem.




*I say trying because tbh you guys, these weren't the best renditions I've heard. Points to us for trying though?

**I stand, but I do absolutely think forcing people to stand for the anthem before a movie, especially when they're navigating holding popcorn and drinks is one of the stupidest ideas in the world.

***I also just remembered that I ranted 13 years ago about how they created a much longer version of the anthem and I did not like it at all. I stand by my position.

On a view of India that seems a little stuck in the past

I read a lot of Bollywood magazines growing up. Stardust and Filmfare were staples as a teenager, and then there was the magazine that I think Zee came out with for a while? Their whole "stand out from the crowd" feature was they didn't do gossip I think? Which was why Aamir Khan was on the cover of their first issue, and why I decided to "support" them by actually buying their monthly edition when I was in high school. Well, I didn't buy it as much as convinced the parents to subscribe to it via the newspaper-wala.

This really wasn't the point of this post.

So anyway, I read a lot of these magazines. And a moment that has always stuck with me is reading Filmfare while waiting for a waxing session in the salon I went to pretty much from when I started these things till when I moved away. And in the Readers' letters section, there was a letter from a woman who did not live in India (she may have been based in Singapore) who had written in about her biggest complaint about the movie Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna - that the characters played by Rani Mukherjee and Preity Zinta did not wear sindoor or mangal sutras in the movie, and what kind of world was this that married Indian women did not wear these things.

That was her biggest issue about the movie, you guys. That in a movie about two loveless marriages and infidelity, the married women did not wear signs of being married. So what if even 13 years ago, a lot of women in India did not wear these on a daily basis. And having not actually seen the movie, I don't remember what part of India their characters were supposed to be from, but a mangal sutra isn't something every Indian, or even Hindu woman wears.

But I remember being amazed that this woman had been so bothered by this fact that she actually sent a letter to Filmfare magazine. And I remember thinking that NRIs probably think of India as just being stuck in the time period that they left, and that nothing could have possibly changed. And it's something I occasionally worry about doing myself, so kindly send a virtual kick if you ever see me saying something about India that may have been true eight years ago, but no longer is.

And I thought about this woman again today, when I listened to a podcast interview Seth Meyers did with Lilly Singh. Excited as I am to see a brown woman have a late night show of her own, I've never really watched her stuff on YouTube, and haven't particularly enjoyed whatever snippets or interviews I have seen. But I listened to the interview, and was utterly baffled when she started talking about moving from Canada to LA. Baffled because she talked about how this was unheard of in her family, because Indian women usually leave their parents' home only when they get married, and so for her to move countries for her career was a very big deal.

Sigh.

Look. I'm not saying it wasn't a big deal. As someone who moved out my parents' home and moved countries to go to grad school, I think it definitely is. And I'm not saying there isn't a huge number of Indian women who don't move out of their parent's home till they get married. I have friends who did that. I also have friends who moved out, either to study or for work. I have friends who moved away for college, and then moved back in when they returned to Delhi for a job. If I hadn't decided to go to grad school, and was still working in the same city, there's a good chance I would have still been living in the same house.

But to just categorically say Indian women don't do this seems so absurd and outdated to me that I really am utterly baffled by her world view. Especially since it's not like she grew up in India where she would have seen it happen all the time. She grew up in Canada, and presumably knows other Canadian Indians, and/or has family and friends back in India and/or around the world. To make a sweeping statement like that is to make a generalization that is at least a few decades old, and it bothers me that someone who is being held up as the symbol of brown women* to the US would spout views like this.

*Do NOT get me started on that other symbol, Priyanka Chopra. Pfft.

Movie watching thoughts: Crazy Rich Asians

I'm trying to figure out if I'm just being small-minded and inward looking with my mixed feelings about Crazy Rich Asians, or if the fact that I went to see it with some very "woke" people who loved the movie meant I couldn't really articulate my feelings about it at the time.


I liked the movie. It was fun, the performances were brilliant, and Nick's single minded approach to trying all the food possible on his first night back in Singapore was completely understandable. Also, it was very Bollywood. The basic difference between Crazy Rich Asians and every ridiculous rich people movie I saw growing up in the 90s and early 2000s, was that, unlike Karan Johan and Sooraj Barjatya, Jon Chu made a really good movie. Also the prospective bahu stood up to her prospective mother-in-law a lot more than anyone in K3G ever did.


Here's what bothered me. Before the movie started, they were doing clips showcasing the actors for the movie, and then did a slidereel of the history of Asian actors in Hollywood. And somewhere in the mix Indian American actors like Kal Penn were shown, as well as clips from The Namesake. And then, at the end of the slide reel, they put up a caption remind us that this is the first movie since 1993 to have movie with a majority Asian cast in a contemporary setting. To which I say, then what was The Namesake?


And I get it. I get how important this movie is to the Asian American community, and why this matters. But I've always struggled with the fact that India, and the South Asian subcontinent, gets called Asian when it's convenient, and gets tossed to the side when it's not. If we're making the point that this is the first movie in 25 years with an Asian cast, and we're excluding The Namesake from that narrative, then don't toss it into the slide reel either, right?


And granted, I have only visited Singapore for three days, almost 15 years ago, but I'm very sure there were more South Asians there at the time then movie showed. Which, again, is fine, because maybe they weren't part of the setting this movie showcased. But. BUT. How is it that every guard of a fancy hotel or mansion that the movie showed somehow managed to be a Sardar?


Look, I loved the movie. There's so much even I could identify with. The guilt tripping laid on kids by their parents. The love for family and food back home. How good it is to go back home every time you do, the catching up with old friends and families. The little throwaway lines that showed that people really are the same, everywhere.


And a lot of the movie brought back the feelings I've also always had, of being a probashi Bangali, growing up in Delhi, only visiting Kolkata occasionally for a few days during school vacations. My cousins made fun of how terrible my Bengali is, how my accent is "so Delhi". I felt out of place with my Delhi friends at times, but even more out of place with most Bengalis I knew. Those feelings span cultures - anyone who has grown up in a place that is different from the place their parents belong to struggle with that a bit, I think. And watching Rachel's character navigate Singapore, and reading the reactions of Asian Americans to watching that, brought a lot of those feelings back.


But, let's just decide if Indians count as Asians or not, 'kay?

It's food, you moron. Just food.

The summer before moving to the US, I was trying to find a classmate I could share an apartment with. I had set up time to chat with an American girl who was also looking for a flatmate at the time, and when we spoke, one of her first comments to me was "OMG I have to tell you, I love Indian food. And I make amazing chicken tikka masala!"

At the time, I laughed politely, but I remember thinking in my head - what on earth is chicken tikka masala?

When I moved to the US, I had several people tell me how amazing chicken tikka masala was. And it turned out to be served in the cafeteria whenever they had Indian food, in every Indian restaurant I went to, and by friends who said they cooked great Indian food. It looked like butter chicken, but tasted... blah. And for the life of me I couldn't figure out what this oh-so-popular dish was that I'd never managed to ever even hear of in Delhi.

Then of course, I read up on it, learned it was invented in the UK, and proceeded to roll my eyes and avoid having it as much as possible.

I have nothing against chicken tikka masala, I am just against people who have never lived in India telling me that Indian food is amazing when that is the only "Indian food" they've ever had.

This tweet popped up on my timeline yesterday:

Today was great. I had Chettinad for lunch and Gujju for dinner with Pesarattu for snack. Indian food so good you can write poetry about it.

— krtgrphr (@krtgrphr) July 31, 2017

This tweet made me hungry, but also made me think of another pet peeve that's been bubbling up recently.

I'm offsite tomorrow, at a location that is five minutes away from my favourite Indian restaurant in the city - their gulab jamun is to DIE for. And then I'm in NYC later this week, and have as usual already checked how far my hotel is to the closest location for The Kati Roll Co. The same coworker is going to be with me at both the offsite and in NY, and her reaction when I told her was "you want to have Indian food twice in a week?"

This isn't the first time I've got this question. When I came back from India last year, someone suggested an Indian place for lunch, and then paused and asked me if I was okay with that since I'd just come back.

First of all, can we be clear about something. For you, it's Indian food. For me, it's food. I grew up eating it. I live to eat it. Sure, pasta is great, as is Chipotle. And yes, I will admit, when I go home to India, I actually never eat Indian Indian food there, because I want my Indian versions of pasta and fried rice. But Indian food is just... food.

Second of all*, do you have any idea how many types of cuisine exist in India? I grew up there, and I don't know. Just because YOU have never bothered to eat anything other than chicken tikka masala, does not mean that's all there is to the subcontinent. In fact, show me one restaurant in Delhi that actually serves the blessed dish, and I... well, I'll promise to never visit that restaurant, that's what I'll do.

I mean, I could literally have "Indian food" every day for the next fortnight, and not have the same thing two days in a row. Less than a 5 minutes drive from my apartment is a chaat place, a dosa place, a chettinad place, a desi Chinese place, a Punjabi khana place, 3-4 biryani places, and half a dozen of those places that do buffets and serve a bit of everything. (Yes, I do live in the Little India area of this city). Literally the only thing missing from my life is Bengali food, although if I'm really craving it, I force my self to go to the Bangladeshi restaurant that makes mughlai parathas. And on occasion, I even manage to cook stuff that is somewhat edible.

So if I say I want to go have chaat even though I came back from India last week, or if I want to have a Maharaja thali on Tuesday and an Achari Paneer kathi roll on Thursday**, save the disbelief and pity a little. Because one of those is not like the others, and you're a moron to think otherwise.

End rant.


* I will confess, I was going to say secondly, but then I remembered this:

No, he wouldn't. ("First of all, I think you made the second bacteria up, and second of all, how do I avoid it?") Don't step to me. —HH https://t.co/qqtiDp1KoU

— The West Wing Weekly (@WestWingWeekly) July 29, 2017

** Yes, you're right. There is a very good chance I have kathi rolls on Wednesday too if my flight gets in on time, but I'll probably do the Chana Masala roll that day. Although I just checked, and they have a Kosha Mangsho roll too that I've never tried, so it's 50-50 at this point.

Where we share a few anecdotes about this whole demonetization thing

I was rushing to an offsite meeting, when a news alert popped up on my phone, saying Modiji was about to give a live news conference. I texted the family, in case they wanted to watch. I walked into the meeting room, put my stuff down, and since we were still waiting for one or two people, figured I'll go get myself a cup of tea. As I was walking out of the room, another news alert popped up on my phone, making me gasp out loud, and making everyone in the room to turn and stare at me questioningly. Turned out, Modiji had just announced all 500 and 1000 rupee notes were illegal tender, effective in three hours.

The parents were staying with me in Amreeka at the time. They landed back in Delhi a week after the sky fell on all our heads, and decided they should try and exchange some money at the airport, because who knew what the situation outside would be. When I called them, some 4-5 hours later, thinking they'd be home by then, they were still waiting in queues, because of the four currency exchange counters at Delhi's International Arrivals area, one was open. But what infuriated the father the most? This counter, that was operated by a public sector bank, was giving an exchange rate 10% worse than what the exchange rate actually was.

I landed in Delhi a few days later. Now, I have been a huge fan of credit cards since I started my first job, and realised that using a credit card meant I could a, earn some interest by leaving money in my bank account till it was time to pay my card bill (because Indian banks actually give you some interest), and b, I could earn reward points for all card purchases. So for me, using my credit card wherever I possibly could was a no-brainer for the one week I spent in India. And my parents are also in the incredibly privileged position of being able to decide whether they want to go to Mother Dairy and pay cash, or to the grocery store in the market and pay a little more for milk and vegetables, but be able to pay by card. But that doesn't work everywhere. You still need cash to deal with the autowallas, or the electrician repairing your iron, or the sweets shop you've been having pani puri at for decades.

And there was, quite simply, no cash.

Our neighbourhood market has branches of three different banks, and ATMs of at least another half dozen. On any given day, only one bank would have cash available in their branch and/or ATM. And you knew which one had by cash by seeing the mile long queue that would be outside. We went everyday to check, and only one day did the father manage to withdraw some cash - and only because on that particular day, the bank that had cash had opened a separate senior citizens' line, and he now qualifies for those.

If a bank didn't have cash, they also had no clue when they would have cash. They didn't know when they would receive any.

My parents and I were fortunate enough to be able to choose to use other forms of payment to a large extent. My grandmother? Not so much. She lives alone in Kolkata, and I was able to go see her for a day this time. She hasn't used a bank account in decades, and is almost entirely dependent on the cash her children give her. And so her entire savings suddenly turned worthless, till one of her children could come and swap it out for her. The woman who takes care of her is in an even worse position - she has no bank account, no ID proof to open a bank account, and therefore she has no clue what to do now.

Look, I think it's fairly obvious to anyone who knows me at all, or y'know, reads any of my rants, that I am not, have never been, and never will be a fan of Modiji or the party he belongs to. I was devastated in 2014 when he became PM, but there was also a part of me that wanted to be proven wrong about him, that he would be good for India. Simply because being right wouldn't help anyone, would it now?

When this demonetization thingummy was first announced, I thought it might be a good thing. Black money and corruption is a serious issue in India, and if this was the best way to tackle things, I was all for it. But in the weeks since, talking to people, reading various viewpoints, and quite simply, seeing how this has been implemented is leaving me completely disinclined to believe this will do any long-term good.

I can understand trying to keep this policy shift a secret till you're ready to go, so the people you're after could genuinely be taken unaware. And I'm not going to get into whether certain business houses were kept in the loop in the weeks leading up to this, because meh. But how do you not realise just how cash you would need to replace for the the average person trying to lead their lives? And plan for it accordingly? And when you realise you haven't planned things out correctly, is it really that hard to come out and admit you messed up? Instead, we have a PM who refuses to come to Parliament to listen to the Opposition, a Finance Minister who keeps repeating this is how we'll go after black money, and an RBI governor who basically came out and said something to the effect that only dishonest people were facing trouble in this new world. Yes, because every single person in Gurgaon who had no cash because the damn banks have no cash is dishonest. Thanks, you guys.

What's been equally exasperating is the way things keep shifting on you. First they said they'd accept old notes at government run hospitals and petrol pumps till December 15, then they said this only applied to the 500-rupee notes, not the 1000-rupee notes. Then on December 1, they announced this would be only till December 2, not the 15th.

What a complete shit show.

I am told things are marginally better in the week since I came back from India, but not completely. I honestly don't know how long this shortage of cash is going to continue; I do think anyone who thinks it's a matter of weeks, rather than months, is being overly optimistic.

But I would be happy to be wrong about this.

On democracy

A conversation at lunch, a few weeks ago. Three Indians, one American.



Indian #1: What are you people doing? Trump actually became the nominee!

American: Yeah, I don't know what people are doing!

Indian #1: You need to get it together.

American: I have it together. Politically, that is. My personal life is a bit of a mess. My point is, I'm voting the other way!

Indian #2: But, there has to be some safeguard, right? Don't you people have some safeguards? To prevent such a crazy person actually winning?

American: You would think.

Indian #2: I mean, what if a mass murderer decided to suddenly run for President? Would you let him?

Indians #1 and #3 turn to Indian #2.

Indian #3: You do realize...

Indian #2: Yeah, I just realized what I said. Okay, never mind.
Indian #3: Because this is democracy.

*******************************

Here's my thing, okay? When general elections in India happened in 2014, I was vocally, and consistently, against the BJP. We all knew they would be coming to power, and Modi would end up Prime Minister, but a part of me held out hope that it wouldn't happen, and wanted to bash my head against the wall when it did.


But my thing? Is this. I could see why people supported the BJP, and voted them to power. Because the alternative sucked. I didn't agree with it, because even though the alternatives sucked, I didn't think voting the BJP to power was a good idea. Two years later, my opinion hasn't changed much. I still don't see a viable alternative, but I still don't see the BJP as a good idea. But I see why others do, or did.


They seemed less corrupt. They talked of "achhe din" and all the progress they would bring. The social side of them, which is the scary as hell side of them, was ignored for the idea of all the economic development that people thought would come. And since social stands are more important to me than economic stands, very obviously I was in the minority (not that I was able to vote, but still).


So here's my thing. I don't get the Presidential election campaign going on in the US right now. I haven't got it for the past year. I don't see how, or why, the Republican primaries have gone the way they did. I don't see how this country can choose the Presidential candidate they have.


Again, in my view, if you are a Republican, your choices were, granted, all horryifying to me. But not to you, surely? So the fact that Trump is the candidate they went with, out of the 11 options (or more?) they started out with, is something I am not able to fathom. At all.


I'm so very terrified for November.

Of conversations that come out of the blue

We had maybe two conversations all through business school, she and I. Our social circles were completely different, our lifestyles were completely different, and the only thing we probably had in common was that we both kept our distance from the "desi crowd" - her, a tad more than me.

We both ended up getting jobs in the same city, but since her job involves travel, and her personal life involves navigating a long-distance relationship, the first time we met after graduation was at the one-year reunion last month. Where we hugged and promised to get together if we were ever in Dallas at the same time. Because isn't that what you do?

But then she texted me earlier this week asking if I was free for dinner, and I shrugged and figured why not (even though can I just say that my food budget according to mint.com has been absolutely haywire this month, and I don't know where all this money has gone. End sidebar.) And ended up having an interesting evening, simply because it was - at least on my part - such an honest conversation.

We talked about the choices we've made - professionally, socially, personally. We talked of turning 30 - three months ago for her, a little more than a year from now for me. We talked of our families, parental expectations, what we look for in relationships, and knowing who we are. We talked of moving to the US from India - eight and three years ago, respectively. We talked of why we chose to distance ourselves from people we should have bonded with over a shared identity. And we talked of what it was like to make friends, meet people, form relationships, at this age, in a new city where you know practically no one. And by the time we parted, I felt like I understood her and her choices a little better.

Her name, when it would come up in conversations with the desi crowd, would always be met with eye rolls and sniggers, because she hung out with a very different crowd, and made no efforts to socialize with them. And I would listen and wonder if I was talked about similarly when I wasn't around (I'm pretty sure I was).

I had dinner with a couple of classmates and their wives last night. Over dosa and rasam, I mentioned meeting her earlier in the week. And listened to the same sniggering comments being made. And sighed on the inside.

She said something to me, just before we went our separate ways... something that made me smile and wonder. We had talked of meeting people and forming relationships, and I had, as I am wont to do, whined about being perennially single. And then the conversation turned to choices in life, and I mentioned something I had written about just over three years ago - about how I've never really gone after things, I've always let life happen to me. And she smiled and said, well then, maybe you need to sit back and just wait for this to happen too.

I wonder.

Conversations on the phone

The father and I just had a chat on the phone, while he was waiting to board a flight back from Bombay to come home, during which I tried to articulate a lot of what's been bothering me for a while now. We both rambled, and jumped from topic to topic, so I can't quite present the whole thing. Snippets that I can recall, in no very clear order are presented below. Oh and if you haven't seen Ishaqzaade but plan to and don't want spoilers, avoid the third snippet, which pretty much gives away the main "twist" of the movie.

Baba: What did you think of the Satyamev Jayate episode yesterday?

Me: Wasn't bad. I broke down while watching it, of course. Thrilled they're finally talking about CSA, and SO awed by how brave and incredible the survivors were to come and talk the way they did. But I wish Aamir Khan wouldn't lead the conversations so much. Let the people articulate things their own way na, instead of saying "so what you mean is this...?".

Baba: Hmmm. Some of the folks I met here saw the show. People don't seem to have liked the show much. 

Me: Yes well, from what I see on twitter these days, people like to be cynical because they seem think that's what's expected.

Baba: People seem to be worried "intelligent actors will now be determining government policy."

Me: But... he's not going into policy. He's stopping at spreading awareness. Which, yes, could be a complaint, but at least he's spreading awareness. Who said this?

Baba: Oh, the educated folks of Bombay. And fool editors who print such letters to the editor.

Me: Yes well, your reform is never going to come from the educated folks. They're too busy try to convince themselves and everyone else that everything happens in other homes and classes, not in their own.

Baba: Come on, that's not entirely true.

Me: Oh come on, not to take anything away from the tragedy, but one hit-and-run happened in Gurgaon, and people are organizing silent marches to protest because they knew the persons involved. How many such incidents happen with people the "educated people" don't know, and who organizes marches for them?

Baba: But then the question is, which one will hit? And make the point?

Baba: I hear all the "young MPs" were absent from the 60th anniversary celebrations in Parliament yesterday.

Me: I'm impressed the old folks showed up.

Baba: Who's being cynical now?

Me: But that's the thing no? Where do you see hope? Our politicians are useless, social reform is not happening, so what do you have that you shouldn't be cynical about? But I'd like to think my cynicism is not because I feel I need to be, but because I can't help it!

Baba: Mindsets need to change.

Me: But where do you start? We just came back from seeing Ishaqzaade, and yes, the crowd was horrible. You know what I hated the most? There's this scene where the lead pair has just slept together, and he's walking away from her after informing her that he only pretended to fall in love with her because he wanted "revenge" for the slap she gave him. There's a woman crying on the screen, Baba, and the men in the audience are hooting with glee. What do you do with such mentality? How do you begin to change that?

Baba: I think we should completely avoid the PVR in Sahara Mall. The price difference isn't worth it.

Me: Well, yes, but again, how does that change things?

Me: Did I tell you about the FirstPost article where the writer wondered why the women who'd been forced to have abortions continued to agree to have "conjugal relations" with their husbands?

Baba: Does this writer have any idea about what India's like?

Me: Uh huh. So there seems to have been such uproar that the editors took down the article and apologised, saying they are aware all women don't have that option.

Baba: Well, at least they have some sense.

Baba: Well, I have to switch off now. So you're going to Delhi in the evening? By metro?

Me: Yep.

Baba: *silence*

Me: Chill na, if I get late coming back, I'll take a cab.

Baba: Oh, okay.

There was more, a lot of which I can't put together coherently. Heck, I'm not sure this was coherent. I went to the mother to chat after I ended the call, and her first words, as happens rather frequently, were: You're worked up again. Now what?

I told her a bit about the conversation and she wanted to know if I was upset because there are problems, or because I don't know what to do about the problems. 

There's a good question to ask myself.

A tourist at home

I spent two weeks in Hyderabad in March, with 30-odd classmates of various nationalities. I had written, before going, that I wasn't sure how to answer their questions about India. What I hadn't anticipated was the discomfort I would feel visiting India with a group like this. Not during the project part of the trip so much, but more during the sightseeing portion.

I didn't like being a tourist in my own country. And I don't mean visiting Hyderabad, where I had never been before. I mean being part of a group of foreigners, for lack of a better word, that was visiting India, and by default, therefore, being treated like one.

I didn't like being bought a "high-value" ticket at the Taj Mahal so that I could escape the long queues to get in. I definitely didn't like being told to hold my ticket unlike everyone else, because y'know, I look Indian. I didn't like that my classmates could get away with doing head stands, but I had to keep waving my high-value ticket to prove I could go peer over the railing in the courtyard.

I didn't like how we were taken to tourist traps for shopping where 100 grams of spices or tea cost exorbitant prices. I didn't like that we were taken to a highway shop where chips and soft drinks were ten times their MRP - although I am quite proud of the fact that I found a roadside stall just outside that stupid shop, and bought stuff there.

I didn't like the whining about the crowds and the queues that began among my classmates halfway through the trip, particularly when people started getting close to exhaustion and stress on their projects. I didn't like the constant defensiveness I felt, and the way I had bite back the urge to retort.

It wasn't all bad, no. Most of the folks, especially my team, were extremely comfortable trying out new food stuffs, exploring random shops and areas, getting off the buss and walking through Agra to find a place to eat. I loved how curious they were about the tiny things, things I probably haven't given a second thought in years. I loved being able to explain things to them, introduce my country to them.

But there was a lot that made me uncomfortable. And part of me wonders if I'm overreacting. I've taken a step back, waited more than a month, to when I'm finally back home in India, to publish this post. And the feelings are still there. So maybe I'm not. I just wish I could explain it better.

Visiting

I'll be in India in a week. Never have I been so glad that February is the shortest month of the year.

I'm coming to India on "work", technically. I'll be based in Hyderabad for a project, with the mandatory weekend trip to Agra, and a few days snatched at home in Delhi at the end of the trip. I'll be with 30-odd classmates, some of whom are Indian (well, of Indian origin), but many of whom aren't.

I don't know how to describe India to non-Indians. They keep asking me what it'll be like in Hyderabad. I don't know, I've never been there. I keep trying to explain that India is like Europe in some ways - 20 different countries crammed into one land mass. What I know of people in Delhi, Gurgaon, or even Kolkata, will not be true of people in Hyderabad.

I shared the odd YouTube video with my team, and one of my team mates discovered and sent us videos of Russell Peters. Our client sent us a guide to travelling in India, and a checklist of what we should or should not carry, which I have to say, is pretty comprehensive and accurate.

Different classmates seem to have varied beliefs and expectations about India. One guy wanted to know if he can wear shorts in Hyderabad. One girl wanted to know if we can fit in a tour of Delhi in the half day that we get there in transit. Someone else wanted to know what we should be eating and shopping for in Hyderabad. And then there was someone who asked  how we're supposed to handle communications, or if people in India have phones. And followed that up with asking if we'd get a chance to ride an elephant while we were there.

I don't know how to answer most of these questions. I'm going to be a visitor in my own country; how do I tell them what to expect?