Dress Code [en]

I am always amazed that foreign women of my age group dare walk around in India wearing strappy tops or shorts. I usually go by the rule that I will avoid wearing anything that an Indian women of my age and “status” would not wear – in terms of “sexiness”.

The most revealing dress that young Indian women in the city will commonly wear are a pair of tight jeans and a fitting t-shirt or blouse. I daresay strappy tops and naked legs are out of bounds – and so they are for me too, even if I am happy to wear such clothing at home.

I think it is important to follow this line of conduct for two main reasons. Firstly, I don’t want to shock people. How would we feel if people who are used to living naked came and walked our streets with no clothes on? This is what I call “intercultural awareness”.

The second reason has to do with the image that a lot of Indian men (sadly) have of western women: sexual objects. I would rather avoid clothing (or attitudes, for that matter) which would seem to encourage this way of thinking: things are bad enough as they are.

There is also a third reason for being careful about one’s clothing: foreigners who neglect the “dress code” tend to be either “freshly arrived”, hence full of illusions, gullible, and with no sense of what things are worth, or “hippies” – people who come to India because it is “cool”, has “real spirituality”, or is a great place for drugs.

These rough categories are of course just what they are—a tool for thought—but they are close enough to the representations many Indians (especially those dealing with “tourists”) have of foreigners. And personally, I try to avoid classification in either of these categories as much as possible.

I would rather be stared at because I am wearing a pretty sari or salwaar kameez suit than because I am showing too much of my body. In my experience, wearing a sari can only have a positive influence on my interaction with people: I am bothered less, complimented more (by women), and it opens the door to genuine interest about my position as a (“non-standard”) foreigner in India.

Last but not least, saris and salwaar kameez are pretty and feminine. During my first months in India, I wore exclusively the pants & t-shirt uniform, and got really sick of it. It was nice to be able to feel like a woman again. All that in a dress considered modest and respectable by everyone – in a country where this is important.

Plan! [en]

Madhav called this morning with a great idea: as I am not doing the trek with the others (I feel fine, but I’d rather be on the safe side as far as my brain is concerned), why don’t I get a homebound flight from Bombay instead of Delhi, and come and spend a few more days in Pune?

I’m working on it…

Hindi News [en]

Anne-Marie reads small articles in the Hindi newspaper for our reading class. Her choices are always very interesting.

In the last one she brought up, a young woman who is being sexually harrassed in her in-laws family confides in a young man who gives her hopes of finding a solution. He rents a room for her in another village, but sells her for 20’000 Rs. The in-laws find her and bring her back to their home.

The guy who sold her is found. The pancayat shave his head, colour his face black and drive him out of the village on a donkey. Then they sell his house.

Transport [en]

Un des problèmes majeurs auquel se heurte l’étranger en Inde est celui des transports. Comment se rendre d’un endroit à  un autre, en étant sûr de bien arriver à  destination, et sans payer un prix exhorbitant? Pour les grandes distances, je recommande en général soit le train, soit les bus de l’Etat.

Le train doit être réservé en avance – si possible, même bien en avance. Si l’on désire voyager relativement tranquille, il vaut la peine de choisir une classe climatisée (ce n’est pas juste une question de chaleur…) Je prefère les couchettes supérieures, parce qu’elles sont disponibles à  toute heure du jour et de la nuit et qu’il est facile de s’y réfugier loin des regards et des mendiants. Prendre la banquette du bas signifie qu’elle ne sera pas disponible durant la journée, puisque c’est sur elle que les voyageurs s’asseyent.

Les bus gouvernementaux ont des avantages de taille sur les bus des nombreuses compagnies privées sévissant à  proximité des agences de voyages: ils partent en général raisonnablement à  l’heure, qu’ils soient pleins ou non, et vous emmènent là  où ils sont sensés le faire. Disons qu’après la mésaventure dont Nicola et moi avons souffert il y a deux ans, je fuis les bus privés – sauf si j’ai de vraiment bonnes raisons de leur faire confiance (me faire rabattre vers une agence de voyages à  la sortie d’un bus ou d’un hôtel n’en étant clairement pas une).

Les seules circonstances où je recommande le “privé” sont celles où l’on y accède par une chaîne de recommandations pas trop longue et qui débute par une personne de confiance. Cela permet en cas de problème de garantir que notre insatisfaction évitera au “privé” en question d’être recommandé à  nouveau – ce qui en général suffit à  éviter bon nombre de problèmes. Une très bonne alternative au bus consiste à  louer une Tata Sumo (grosse jeep) avec chauffeur. Normalement, le tarif devrait tourner autour de 1500 Rs. par jour, peu importe le nombre de passagers et de kilomètres. Pensez-y la prochaine fois qu’on vous propose un taxi Delhi-Rishikesh pour 75 dollars par personne (mésaventure qui est arrivée à  deux étudiants de notre groupe).

Books [en]

I’m running out of books to read. During the last couple of weeks, I have been devouring them like the bookworm I once was – and it is a very satisfying feeling.

After Pinki Virani’s book, I swallowed up Jhoompa Lahiri’s Interpreter of Maladies – a very nice collection of short stories.

I followed with Naipaul – India: A Wounded Civilization. An astounding but somewhat depressing essay on Indian culture. A book that I will put at the top of my list of recommended reading for anyone who wants to try and understand India – from inside or out. I have a good mind to read it again and summarize its main lines of thought for you; but you’re going to read it all the same, aren’t you?

The next in line is called Ladies Coupé. Through the train journey of a woman who has never married because she has worked all her life to support her family, we are allowed into the lives of these six women who find themselves together in the ladies coupe. Six different lives, six different stories.

After quickly going through a small collection of science fiction stories my roommate had brought with her, I went begging around for something to read. I was handed the first of the Harry Potter books, which I read from cover to cover in the space of an evening and a morning. I’m not one to fall for crazes and cults, but I’ll definitely read the other ones.

I hope there is a good bookstore in Haridwar.

Monkeys [en]

Yesterday, I was watching monkeys running about in one of the hotel buildings, when I heard a nasty yowl and saw a commotion. One of the monkeys had caught the cat I had spotted roaming around the area earlier – and the cat wasn’t happy about it. It escaped. The monkeys went after it a little, and gave up.

Yesterday too, Anne-Marie was nipped and scratched on the arm by a monkey on Ram Jhoola. Superficial bleeding – but still. The day before that, a monkey had been trying to open her door (it had got in before and ate some bananas).

A few days back, a monkey on Laxman Jhoola caught Archana’s dupatta and playfully pulled on it when it realized she was afraid.

A day after our arrival in the hotel, a monkey came running in the corridor of our building. Florence set off to take a picture, and as she was approaching the animal, aiming with her camera, it bared its teeth and made a fierce jump at her. She retreated into the room pretty quickly.

I don’t remember the monkeys being so aggressive two years ago. Are they suffering from overpopulation?

AIDS Awareness [en]

Young sexually active Indians (or those about to be so) appear to be no different from their western counterparts when it comes to AIDS awareness. They know they don’t have AIDS. The also know that their girlfriend/boyfriend doesn’t have AIDs, because he/she either is a virgin or has slept only with this or that person, known to be “safe”. Prostitutes and people who inject drugs are those who might have AIDS, not normal people – unless they have had to receive blood.

This is the kind of thinking which is allowing AIDS to spread amongst the heterosexual population, particularly teenagers.

Now, let’s stop and think. If a boy has had unprotected sex with a prostitute, and fears he might have AIDS, will he feel free to talk about it to his peers? What would be the reaction if he did? If a girl or a boy has been sexually abused or raped, recently or as a child, will it be said? Remember Pinki Virani’s (prudent) numbers: four girls out of ten; one boy out of four. In the newspaper the other day, I saw much more scary numbers – probably closer to reality: six girls out of ten, and four boys out of ten.

More Backlog [en]

Thursday, 30th: I take my classes. But at the end of the last one I am out of service again. I go back to my room to lie down – I can’t even read. I have a very slight fever.

Friday, 31st: I rest. I go out 200 metres away from the hotel to buy myself some water. I take one class, and that is about all I could have handled. The afternoon is spent in “cultural discussion” with our Hindi teachers – many of the students are in India for the first time. I still haven’t managed to check my email.

Saturday, September 1st: almost all of the students have decided to go to Musoorie for the week-end. My roommate and I have decided to stay here to catch some rest – which turns out to be a great decision. We find a tailor to stitch blouses for our saris, manage to check our email, and spend the rest of our day napping and reading.

Sunday, 2nd: I walk around Rishikesh taking lots of pictures while my roommate gets an ayurvedic massage at the place we know. We have lunch at the Madras Café – the uttapam is a very nice change from the hotel food (which in itself isn’t too bad, but I’m starting to develop a gustative intolerance to it).

In the evening, we finally find the place we had been looking for the whole week-end: the Amrita Library Restaurant. The Lonely Planet map actually places it on the wrong bank of the Ganga! If you are in Rishikesh and crave some non-Indian food, I can definitely recommend their pizzas. We also had a tomato soup and a poiled potato with butter – there are times in life when one has to eat something without any spices! We’ll be going back to check out their imported Italian macaroni.

Bitter Chocolate [en]

Rishikesh, 26 August 01

I’ve finished reading another disturbing book. After the concentration camps of World War II and Partition, here comes Bitter Chocolate by Pinki Virani – a study on Child Sexual Abuse in India.

One out of four boys. Four out of ten girls. In all social classes, from lower to upper. By aggressors of same or different sex. The rare comlaints filed take years to reach court. More often than not, they are dismissed for lack of conclusive evidence.

My new “tagline” for India is The Country of Red Tape. Related, this example of Indian logic, excerped from Pinki Virani’s book.

A young boy is abused in his school by a meditation summer class teacher. The parents refuse to report the case to the police. Another parent, a lawyer, alarmed by the fact that this same teacher has been invited to give classes in his son’s own school, decides to write to the police commissioner, detailing the whole incident.

On 25 October 1999, Raju Zunzarrao Moray gets a visitor from the police station near his residence.

The police officer tells him, ‘Your complaint to the police commissioner has come to us. We were well aware of the incident but no one came forward to register it as a case. This is the first written complaint on the matter, so you are our First Informant. Therefore, we will have to start our investigations with you first.’

All right, is Raju Moray’s reaction, but then what.

‘After investigating you, we will investigate everyone else.’

‘Okay,’ says Raju Moray, ‘but just remember that I was not an eyewitness to even the boy who came home hurt. You need to speak with the boy’s family.’

‘We will.’

A doubt flickers in Raju Moray’s mind. ‘By now the boy has gone back to Pune. Suppose his family here says nothing of the sort happened.’

‘Then it will be assumed that you have made a false complaint.’

‘What absolute nonsense!’

‘Not nonsense; it is a serious matter to make a false complaint.’

‘But it is not a false complaint.’

‘If you cannot prove it, it is; also, then you have no business to unnecessarily clutter up our files and cause us unnecessary hardship.’

Raju Moray re-starts the conversation, ‘Listen, let us assume—correctly, since I know what they have decided—that the boy’s grandfather says that there was no incident. Then what?’

‘Then we will call you to the police station to question you on why you filed a false complaint.’

‘But it is not… oh all right, then what happens?’

‘Then we will call you, and we will call you again for questioning, as and when the need arises.’

‘I have to go to court you know, I have to be available for my clients and my practise. You should at least tell me when you would call me, I cannot come in the mornings, I can after court during the evenings. And, obvioulsy, I see no reason to come every day to simply sit in the police station.’

‘Then it is better you write a letter saying you are withdrawing your complaint so that we can close the file.’

‘But you have not even opened a case till now because no case has been filed. Where is the question of closing an un-opened file?’

‘These are technical matters; better you just say in a letter you are withdrawing your complaint.’

Please do read this very sensible book. Awareness is what is needed first – and your awareness could make the difference for someone. Whether or not you are in India or Indian.