In a year

Train employee peering out the door of our moving train

It was the 1 year anniversary of my grandfather’s death yesterday as well as my 1st day in Delhi…the beginning of why I came to India.

It was a shock when my dad reminded me of the anniversary, but it also made me reflect on this past year. A couple days after his funeral I remember sitting in my pod, tucked in the fluorescent lit back corner of my office, looking at a Christmas picture of my grandpa with my siblings and myself. It was the last time I had seen him before he died. My sister offhandedly said she wanted to take some pictures before I flew back to New York, and he hurriedly scuffled into his room to grab a slightly wrinkled button down shirt and tie for the picture. He quickly tossed off the layers of sweater and his favorite, old puffy winter vest. It was as if he thought we’d disappear unless he changed quickly. After approving the digital shot, he was beaming. My gramps was generally a pretty cantankerous fellow, so this memory always makes me chuckle. Only later did I learn he had stopped treatment for his prostate cancer.

Reflecting on this memory of him, I finally understood life is fleeting and can slip away without any whisper to prepare me of its going. Who knows what happens to us when our bodies give up on us, but I will never see my grandfather again. I won’t find him sitting in his favorite chair watching Chinese soap operas when I go home. I won’t ever have the pleasure of seeing him make homemade tofu from boiled soybeans. He’s gone. I realized I had to stop talking about what I want to do differently with my life and just do it (thanks for the brainwashing Nike). I had to quit this fearful negative mindset (will I be qualified for a dream job, should I go back to school, how will I pay for it, am I even qualified to get into a grad program)and challenge myself.

Now here I am in Gurgoan, India (30 km south of New Delhi). Wow. I did it. I don’t often feel this way about myself, but I’m proud of me. Mahatma Gandhi said, “Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.” Since college ended, I’ve been struggling to get these things in sync. I’ve talked incessantly to Hiro about so many different goals that I want to achieve and then falling victim to temptations that led me astray (media parties, tv, dinner with friends, needing to see the latest movie that came out). He must love me because I’m annoyed just thinking back about my poor decision making. I’ve always wanted to volunteer abroad, immerse myself in a foreign culture, understand and help the lives of people with less opportunity than me, and now I’m doing it. I feel confident and content (ahaha! Coincidentally, Mariah Carey’s “Make It Happen” from her 1992 album is playing on my iPod as I write this).

Interacting with some of the volunteers here, I see how much I’ve grown in even just one week of traveling around India. I’m calmer. Usually, I’m full of nervous anxiety, afraid to be myself, fearing how new people will react to my weirdness. Rather than spending my time worrying about how to ingratiate myself to strangers, I connect with those who open themselves up to me and allow relationships with the more veiled personalities to develop as they should. I won’t worry about it, force it or misrepresent myself (if you haven’t picked up on it yet, I over analyze my interactions with people).

In my fellow volunteers, I see some of the worries and insensitive attitudes that I had my first week in India. Skewing the face when smelling the streets littered with a mixture of urine, animal feces, and rotting litter. Complaining about how the smell has made them lose their appetite. Commenting on how disgusting the men peeing in outdoor urinals is (they’re basically shower stalls without doors where men step in and pee in .....a proper urinal? drain in the ground? hole in the wall?.... I wasn’t close enough to get a good look…also that would have been creepy of me to try and peek ). Feeling anxiety when crossing the laneless traffic of cars, rickshaws, and motor bikes.

The first time seeing all of this is intense, and it’s perfectly understandable that foreigners’ first reaction isn’t the most sensitive. I felt extreme internal conflicts my first few days here because I felt negatively about what I was seeing around me. I wanted to appreciate the differences versus judge. I feel much less conflict now. In fact, I feel well adjusted here. My paranoia that everyone is untrustworthy is gone (for the most part. I still question any brushes of my leg or butt from men in tight spaces), and I can focus on taking it all in.

There are more than 100 types of mangoes in the world. Since it was mango season and more than a third of mangoes are cultivated in India alone, we decided to have a mango sampling with Anu.

A quick glimpse of the early morning vegetable market in Mumbai from our cab.
It was around 6am before our bike tour.

From what I have seen, Indians take great pride in their arrangement of fruit. Also every piece of fruit is always perfectly ripe and unblemished. You will not have to sort through any crap fruit when buying in either upscale markets or street side stands.

Me taking a power nap before our flight to Delhi