early early this morning (1.30 am) i woke up, my face itching like crazy. i stumbled to the bathroom. six mosquito bites, three on each cheek. and one on my right earlobe, for good luck. i returned to bed, taking my electric mosquito bat with me. i turned on the light and sat for a good ten minutes, blearily on the lookout for the little shits. after killing two, i was satisfied and returned to bed.

i am impressed, but not amused. revenge is sweet.

piling on the layers.

it's hot here. i'm not talking about a normal summer heat. no, i'm talking 105 degrees, all of which are in your face and oppressive. the kind of air that makes your skin radiate heat until there's a hot shadow following your every move.

so it's really no surprise that the other day i noticed a heat rash on my arm. my skin is as sensitive as they come, and is understandably enraged about the current conditions. my coworkers, noticing this rash, recommended i apply a certain powder all over, to soothe my skin and prevent further (and worse) irritation.

but here's the rub. in addition to my newly purchased powder, which i dust on every morning, i also apply sunscreen. spf 70 to be exact, which i slather on liberally, leaving a white film all over my arms and neck. i wait a little bit and then douse myself again, this time with mosquito repellent. the 3m kind that the army uses. because mosquitoes love my sweet blood.

throughout the day, due mostly to my consistent sweating, these layers start to shed. i leave gooky bits of powdered-lotion-repellent all over my desk and on my chair. the office dogs sniff these little blobs and wrinkle up their noses in disgust. it isn't so pleasant. luckily, i can see a little light. a time when i don't have to pile on all these layers, when i don't have to deal with all these bits of gook. for right now though, it's what i have to do, to keep my safety and sanity intact. for right now, i'm layering away.

a little love...

Pratima’s house is on the other side of Baroda, in an area I have never explored. Not quite the slums, her neighborhood is small and crowded with teeny brick houses. Each building overflows with people, home to extended families of ten or more. After entering the narrow alleyway teeming with kids and cows, I enter the first room of Pratima’s two-room home. This is the living/bed/play room. Six children under the age of eight line one wall, all with metal plates in front of them. They scoop up rice and homemade samosa dripping with tamarind chutney, and shovel the food unpretentiously into their mouths.

Pratima’s mom sits on the floor next to the line of children. Her English is limited to simple words - hello, sit, eat. And I quickly exhaust my Gujarati vocabulary. But her eyes, twinkling and lined with smile wrinkles, help make me feel at home. Pratima’s elder brother, sitting on the bed with his father, is eager to describe the NGO where he works and how he teaches physically handicapped individuals. His best friend (who works with him at the NGO) is also in the room, eager to meet me. Through translation I learn that the crutches the friend uses are for a leg deformity he was born with and the polio he lived through when he was very young. His authentic, multi-watt smile as he talks about all of this blows me away.

Pratima’s sister and sister-in-law are in the second room, the kitchen. They are waiting for me, armed with bowls of food and sweet, shy smiles. My plate is soon overwhelmed by heaps of rice and potato curry, homemade pakora and samosa, pools of sour lemon pickle and sweet tamarind chutney. I eat and smile, talking a little with Pratima, feeling a smidge self-conscious. I feel my white skin glowing and the sweat dripping off my neck. I scoop up the rice to my mouth with as much grace as I can muster. Not much. And yet when I look up, everyone beams back at me, their looks warm and welcoming and genuinely kind.

After dinner, I ask Pratima if it would be okay to go to the empty lot next door and say hi to the cow puppy that I saw on my way in. She says of course and tells her family that I am an animal lover – "a real one," she says to them, and to me. I can’t help but agree. The whole family piles outside and watches as I plop down next to the furry, one-month old animal. The crowd grows quickly. I look up at Pratima with the beginnings of annoyance and concern about everyone watching. "No no," she says to me, "Don’t worry. The way you like the cow, these people like you." I take in the crowd again. People are smiling, with friendly and curious looks on their faces. I smile, understand a little bit better, and go back to cooing over the cow.

not even may...

This is my weather forecast for the next two days:

Wednesday: Sunny. Extremely hot. High: 105 °F
Thursday: Sunny. Extremely hot. High: 108 °F

“Being a woman is a terribly difficult task, since it consists principally in dealing with men.”

amen joseph conrad. at this point, i am less than impressed with the majority of men. and by majority i mean all, save perhaps a handful - i'm being generous - which includes my father and mr. darcy (bbc version.) as the latter is a fictional character, the current situation leaves much to be desired.

i'm looking into the remaining matriarchal communities. there's one in southeast china that's looking prettty prettty nice right about now.

discomfort part II

i learned today from one of my bosses that the neighborhood's president, upon hearing what happened to me yesterday, called her. he told my boss that he thought the best thing would be if i vacated the house immediately. while the incident itself played a part in the situation, what was really discussed were complaints by my neighbors regarding three things. since i can't go at my neighbors, however sorely i'm tempted, let me vent a bit here.

1. the dogs. i love dogs, it's true. one thing that makes me tremendously unhappy here is the condition of dogs in this country. therefore, i feed them crackers and anything else i can scrounge up. contrary to what seems to be popular belief, i did not bring the dogs to india with me. when i arrived in this country, in this state, in my particular neighborhood, there were numerous street dogs wandering around. while i recognize that many people do not like the dogs around, at this point i see two valid options. one is to shoot the dogs (or poison them, like a program implemented in srinigar.) another is to take better care of them (feed them, spay/neuter them, maybe even go crazy and throw in a sprinkling of medicine ) as i am, for all intents and purposes, a pacifist, and perhaps more relevant in these circumstances, a dog lover, i opt for the second choice. i stand by my actions, apologize if it offends people, and can only suggest that increasing one's respect and consideration for other living creatures will only bring happiness.

2. the water tap. in the beginning, i didn't understand the water tap. this i fully admit. but by and by i got the hang of it. on in the evening, off when i get up in the morning. this way, the water tank on the roof is full for the day and i have water to wash dishes, clean my clothes, and take cold showers. but here's the thing. even when i turn the tap off, water still comes out of the drain. even when - because i think that maybe the water tank already has plenty of water - i don't turn the tap on at night, water is still spewing out come morning. and so, i apologize to my neighbors for the overflow of water. i personally don't feel this warrants a complaint to the neighborhood's president, but i guess my priorities are a bit different from those of my neighbors.

3. having guests over. yep. i've had some male friends over. i've also had my sister stay over. and i've had my parents who were visiting. if that's offensive to the point of complaining, i guess i have to just say shove it. the fact that i can have males in my house without them inappropriately touching me should empower me, not offend others. but i guess it does.

and so, once again:
shove it.

and p.s. i'm a young woman, from a completely different country, trying to get by and do some good work at the same time. throw me a frickin bone here people. give me a break.

dealing with discomfort

i was recently in a situation where i was extremely uncomfortable. to make a long story short, i was talking with a man (or trying to, as he was speaking gujarati and i was speaking english,) and he touched me inappropriately. very inappropriately. after i shouted NO, i slammed the door in his face.

i felt angry and frustrated and embarrassed and hurt. i shared the story with pratima, my friend and coworker. she asked a couple of questions in her broken english to make sure she understood what happened. and then "chelo." let's go. pratima, sunita (another coworker,) and i walked down the street to find the man or to find my neighborhood's president to whom we would report the incident.

we didn't have far to go before we spotted the man. he sweeps my streets and we have always exchanged friendly hellos and kem-chos (how are you in gujarati.) this time wasn't so friendly. before i knew it, pratima was on him, all her 80 pounds, kicking him, hitting him, ripping his shirt. a friend of hers, a young guy who helps the office with their wiring, was nearby and, upon hearing what had happened, jumped in, delivering a couple of serious slaps to the guy's face.

i didn't know quite what to make of this. i have watched people stone someone before - the man was a driver who had caused a crash and killed people. an unbelievably horrible thing to watch, much more so than what happened this morning. and yet this morning was also painfully complex for me. i know that this is inappropriate behavior. these small things enrage me just as much as blatant disregard for treating women with respect. i should be made to feel uncomfortable because i'm a woman? no part of that is okay. and there is still another part of me that feels badly. i feel bad that this guy, someone who obviously doesn't have much, now has one less shirt to wear. i feel bad that he was publicly humiliated (even as i know what he did was wrong, that he wasn't actually hurt, and there weren't that many people around.)

but perhaps what really gets to me is something far more simple. i now question someone whom i once thought was kind and genuine. and that, quite simply, makes me very very sad.