This blog post is definitely long overdue. But to be honest, it took me a long time to really process everything I had experienced. Going from St. Petersburg to Shanghai to Delhi… taking the time to adapt to the locational change, time changes, culture shocks, foreign languages, and the vast histories of each city… my brain never digested anything I had seen. Even today, sitting at my desk in my residencia in Barcelona, my memories fade in and out as if it were all a dream. When people ask me how my trip was, all I can muster up is, “It was crazy, long, and really cool (smile)”. No one except the seventeen other Babson students I studied with would probably ever be able to understand what traveling to three different countries in three months was like. Even when I look back on photos, its like my mind was playing a trick on me… was I really on the Great Wall of China? Is that me in the Hermitage? Whoa. Everything flew by so fast.
When anyone asks me what my favorite country was, without a doubt, I’d have to say India. “Really? Isn’t it really dirty there? Doesn’t it smell? Isn’t there a lot of poverty?”. Yes, yes it is dirty, it smells, you can’t drink the water or eat raw fruits and vegetables without cooking or peeling them, and you get approached by crying children every day. But I loved every single part of it. The thing about India is that it is so different. The history, the culture, the people, the food… the colors, the music, the architecture, the religions, the diversity. I thought the United States, or well at least San Diego, was pretty diverse. In India, there are sects within each religion, as well as people from different regions of the nation who speak different languages and eat different foods. And the food. The food was AMAZING. There is so much flavor, with masala spices, vegetables, meats, rice, and breads (or naan). Chicken tikka masala, dal makhani, roti, dosa, and lassi… I definitely put on a few pounds from eating such lush and rich foods. Not to mention the plethora of milkshakes they have at every single restaurant. Toblerone, Twix, Kit Kat, Forrero Rocher.. you name it, they have it. And, Death by Chocolate. That was a favorite dessert to order amongst our entire group. But I can talk about food forever, so I’ll move on to why I really loved India.
When I first thought about India, the things that I associated with it were a massive population, high poverty rate, culturally diverse people, and an emerging market. This never painted a descriptive image in my mind, but I thought I knew what to expect when we were getting ready to move from Shanghai to Delhi. I am part of the Southeast Asian Club at my school, AMAN, and the majority of my friends at Babson are from India or Pakistan. I’ve learned dances, listened to the music, eaten the food, and even picked up a few words in Hindi and Urdu. Never did I expect to go through such an emotional roller coaster when I arrived. To really feel shame, or like I was the most ungrateful person in the world.
I’ve been to Ghana, I’ve seen poverty and danger in Mexico, but India was a completely different atmosphere. The disparity between the wealthy and the poor in itself was a huge shock to me. How is it that one moment I can be dining in a mansion furnished with Fendi and Gucci, with service elevators, servants quarters in each corner, a garage full of imported cars and drivers on call, and then walk out onto the street the next minute and be surrounded by homeless people sleeping on mats without a clue as to when they would have their next meal? How could I possibly ignore the poverty? To turn away the disabled children and elders who only wanted a few rupees (where 45 rupees is equivalent to $1)? This was the first time I truly felt ashamed. Ashamed that I had been so oblivious. That I had become so accustomed to the amenities I had at home. That I couldn’t even imagine what the poverty in India would be like. I didn’t appreciate fresh air until all I was breathing in the streets was a mixture of gasoline, feces, sewage, and dust. I couldn’t fathom what it meant to be light skinned–that having dark skin meant I was of a lower working class. I couldn’t appreciate brushing my teeth with water from the tap. What I realized was that none of these things mattered to me anymore. I could go out into the markets and interact with people… locals and expats. I had never seen such beautiful embroideries, scarves, shoes, and I had never tasted such flavorful food. The saris the women wear around are absolutely gorgeous, and I only wish I could have brought one home with me (there was definitely NO room in my luggage.. I left home with 1 and came back with 3). Being able to visit the place Gandhi was killed, seeing the Taj Mahal, and going to the many beautiful temples and mosques… I feel the serenity pulsing through me as I think back on the history.
Our class took a trip to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. The tomb that the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan built for his third wife as a symbol of his love for her. He wanted to build something so big and beautiful that no one could ever replicate or forget it.
Taj Mahal
We took a train to Agra, in which we sped through the country side and had a front row view of people defecating in the fields… families sleeping in the train terminal, and children constantly begging for anything.. money, food, water. It’s crazy to think back on everything we had done, because I had to force myself to turn numb so as not to react to my surroundings. Once we arrived at the Taj Mahal, I couldn’t even believe my own eyes. It felt as if I was walking up to an enormous back drop someone had made for a play or movie. Walking bare foot on the cool white marble, feeling my way around the jeweled inlays and grooves of the walls, breathing in the passion that was put into the architecture… I imagined what it must be like for someone to love another to the extent that they would build the Taj Mahal. Insane.
The part that absolutely made my trip was when our class went to Bal Ashram in Rajasthan to spend two days with boys from the ages of about 8-18 who were rescued from child labor. Bal Ashram is a transitory rehabilitation center for young boys rescued from child labor, as a part of the Bachpan Bachao Andolan organization (Save the Children Movement). Where to even begin. Even today, I feel my chest tighten and the rush of blood to my head when I think about the boys I had become friends with. We arrived at Bal Ashram at around 6PM in the evening. We pulled into a compound not too far from villages that was surrounded by nature, wide open skies, and the mountainside. As we arrived, we were greeted by song, received bindis (red paint on the forehead), and had red strings tied onto our wrists.
Ajay giving everyone Bindis
After dinner, we went outside to play with all the little kids. I forgot how much fun it was to just play. Cricket, tag, bouncing balls, and volleyball… I forgot what it was like to lose time outside… to have to stop playing because we couldn’t see each other anymore. I forgot how competitive I was. Needless to say, that was lesson number one from all the boys at Bal Ashram. After playing, we all gathered at the outdoor stage, where we sat down for meditation. The only time I ever meditated was after taking a power yoga class and saying om out loud. The boy sitting next to me, Ajay, instructed me to sit straight, lay my palms face open with my thumb touching my index fingers, and to close my eyes. We prayed om once… twice… and after the third time, I never felt so peaceful in my entire life. Clear minded, serene, and happy. Lesson number two. Meditation. The boys then explained to us about Bal Ashram, how most of the children sitting around us had served in rug industries, restaurants, and had been beaten or tortured. These boys, who sat around me, who I had just played tag with. Who were smiling, carefree, and happy. Lesson number three… stop dwelling in the past. Take advantage of the future, and appreciate the present moment. They performed a skit for us, in which there were no words, but the boys acted their scenes to the beat of the drum. The moral of the story was that there is no use in fighting and killing people over disagreements in religion. We are all human, and we should be accepting and tolerant of the beliefs of others.
After the skit, the boys started to perform and sing for us, which eventually evolved into a huge dance party. I have never seen so many boys who could bust out a variety of dance moves at such a young age.
We danced for about an hour, song after song, laughing, smiling, and singing… there was so much energy, and everyone was having a blast. Lesson number four… just let go and have fun. There is no one judging you but yourself, and that will hold you back more than anything anyone else will ever think or say about you. After that long night of playing and dancing, we all went to bed and woke up bright and early for morning exercise and lesson. We sat down inside an atrium, where the teacher led meditation and had the boys sing and read aloud in Hindi. The lesson, as I learned afterwards, was about how each person is different. Not one of us has the same skin or hair, speaks the same language, or comes from the same background. Yet we all have eyes, arms, legs, and hands. The sun touches us equally the same, and we must all treat each other with the same respect as we treat ourselves. To accept that we are all different, and to love others even when they cannot love you back. Never did I think I would have learned such an obvious, but much needed lesson.
After spending some time teaching the boys some songs, reading, and writing, it was time for us to depart. All we did was play, dance, and have class in two days, but it was possibly two of the best days I’ve ever spent in my life. I learned so much in just two days, than I have in twenty years. Humanity is powerful, and I left feeling so much love and passion.
In India, I experienced wealth and poverty. I got sick with Delhi Belly (stomach aches). I saw the Taj Mahal. I saw two monkeys having sex right in front of our bus. A spider crawled into my ear in my sleep. I met and learned from boys saved from child labor. I saw camels and elephants used for transportation in the streets. I bought beautiful sandals for $2. I ate like a King. I rode auto-rickshaws. I went to class at the Lodhi Gardens. I lived in a hotel where pigeons lived above me and had baby pigeons that I could hear at all hours. I celebrated Diwali with firecrackers on the streets. I saw the Lotus and Iksar temples. I visited the Humayan Tomb. I learned to appreciate the life given to me… to be accepting, patient, compassionate, and realistic.
