Mangoes and Musings: June 2011

Our three years in India has taught us many things. You cannot live in a place and say that it has not changed you. You actually become part of life in that place you are living. It is hard to describe, Paul and I had traveled a lot—and abroad—before coming to India, but it is still not the same as immersing yourself in the culture and living it day to day. Words cannot describe India—one must travel here and experience it by living here.

The first year you live abroad you struggle with the concept that you are not a tourist, and that you are trying to survive daily life in a strange place. The second year you ‘let go’ and start to live in that country. The third year you actually begin to feel that you belong in the community.

Living here everyday, we have learned many things. We have laughed more, cried more, lived life everyday, and ‘stop to smell the roses;’ taken a rickshaw ride from the barefooted cabbie; overpaid for the gorgeous Pashmina shawl from Kashmir even though you know its worth a lot less—and still say the salesman is your friend and have a cup of chai with him and buy three more; prepared for power outages on Thursdays; have a four-hour-breakfast-that turns-into-lunch-on-Sunday simply because we can; soaked our feet in the tub after a long walk and we still can’t get the red Earth off our toes; stained fingernails from cutting mangoes; bicycles and motorbikes everywhere; learned to trust complete strangers who can’t speak English but communicate with their eyes; the ambiguous Indian no/yes head wiggle; never looking a strange man directly in the eyes; watched the slums, beggars, and extreme poverty from sitting inside a cool chauffeured car; cockroaches, rats, crows and pigeons hanging out at the market; melted in the heat during April and May with long pants, tunic and scarf wrapped around me to cover as much of my body as possible when out in public; felt as though your life should be a miniseries entitled Adventures in Mosquito Slaying; saw the slogans Horn Ok Please and India is Great; Jai Ho!; and learning to say “Tee-Kay” and “Dahn-You-Vad.”

India taught us how to really cook. We always thought of ourselves as a good cooks, Paul on the Barbie, but it was not until we lived here that we began to experiment with different foods and really just be more creative in our cooking. Not having staple goods that we are used to available made us learn how to make pasta sauce, hummus, and muesli from scratch. I mastered icing a layer cake, and my cake baking in general improved vastly.

India gave us adventure, history, and culture as we saw the Taj Mahal three times, the stately and modern capital city of Delhi, the Golden Temple, the Himalayas, the temples and ruins of Hampi, the French port of Pondicherry, the royal state of Rajasthan, the beaches and churches of Goa, the ancient Buddhist, Hindu, and Jain temples carved out of stone in Aurangabad, the hill stations of Maharastra, and the chaos of Mumbai.

India made us a mother and father. We left America with the hope that we would become parents. We watched my belly grow as we traveled to Cambodia, traveled India, and enjoyed daily Pune life. The winter before Anna arrived our favorite café was bombed less than a kilometer away from home by terrorists. Our neighborhood had roadblocks set up overnight and businesses were shut down for days. Checkpoints on North Main Road are still guarded by police with rifles as a daily reminder of what happened. We learned to live each day to the fullest after that. We became parents a few months later and life took on a whole new meaning.

India made us teachers. Paul began to teach and mentor his team at the new factory. I dove into teaching English at the orphanage—everything from strict grammar lessons to dancing the Macarena. The children taught me how to make chappati and smile. After Anna was born, I taught the women in my home how to cook and read a recipe or list.

We have loved India and we have hated India. There is no room for ‘gray’ in India. It is a country of extremes. Life is complicated, dramatic and messy. India is a tough place to live when you are not Indian, but if you let India into your life and actually LIVE you learn to appreciate the small, simple joys of everyday life.

So with heavy hearts three more firangis say Aacha Yetho, Poona as this chapter in our life comes to an end. Ah, Pune will you even miss us when we’ve gone? No, probably not—life will go on and all the drama and chaos we have known for the last three years and three months will become part of someone else’s daily life. We know it is not goodbye, as we will return one day. Who knows what the future will bring as we travel back to our native place? Hopefully, more happiness and adventure mixed with a bit of masala.

We leave you with a few of our favorite memories daily life in India, to say farewell.

A girl outside my car window begs for a few rupees spare change . . .