Reach for the stars
...or better, start climbing.
Monday, September 17, 2001
[06:20]*
First-hand
[06:08]*
Thoughts...
...on the current events. They might well be totally unrealistic (you know how bad I am with politics and economy), but nevertheless.
First of all, let's remember what Kristin was saying during the Kaycee affair: things will be accepted as true because they have been heard or repeated over and over again, rather than because they make rational sense. This is the principle which allows urban legends to spread—and this is the reason media coverage is so crucial for public opinion.
People are repeating that if the US do not react (understand: strike, attack, military), it is opening the door to more terrorist actions in the future. This is being repeated so much that nobody puts the statement into question—but I definitely think it should be. I don't believe that aggression in return for aggression is the best solution (or the only one, for that mattter).
It makes much more sense to turn to the inside, concentrating on the security issues and politics which have brought about such a situation, rather than rush into military action and bomb terrorist camps in retaliation. Vengeance makes one look weak.
Force used as a response to force can only lead to escalation of violence, particularly in a world where more than one nation has the necessary power to blow up the whole planet.
At first I was worried (like many people, I guess) that the US would react in a stupid way. I think that as time goes by, anger will cool down, and the risk of some disastrous response will become less.
As for Bush, it seems that this tragedy may in some way be a stroke of luck as far as his career is concerned. Look at the polls: 86% of americans (or something like that) approve his handling of the crisis. From a president who was not convincing to many, he has turned into a hero. This is clearly a case of what Thomas Nagel calls "moral luck". Outside circumstances are giving him a chance to turn otherwise doubting public opinion into his favor.
[06:06]*
Efficiency
Gurgaon, September 16
I'm amazed at what I managed to accomplish yesterday. I sent a re-routing request for my flight home, got a train ticket for Pune on Monday (thanks to the Tourist Quota!), bought some books (Hindi and English), and placed a call to Switzerland.
Connaught Place was definitely a nicer experience than two years back. I am more confident, of course, but Siddharth's AC car certainly made a difference too.
I was taken out to eat at Karim's, first by Arif and Shireen (Delhi branch), then by Siddharth and Sandeep (my hosts here in Gurgaon). The food there is perfectly delicious—if you are looking for good non-veg in Delhi, it is the place to go.
[06:04]*
Voyage
Connaught Place (Wimpy's), 15 septembre 01
Me voici à Delhi. L'endroit est bien moins effrayant qu'il y a deux ans. Pas grand chose à signaler durant le voyage depuis Rishikesh avec Delphine, mis à part un homme étalé sur son vélo au bord de la route, dans quelque chose qui aurait pu être une mare de sang si la vitesse de notre bus nous avait laissé le temps de voir. Je crois pourtant l'avoir vu remuer un pied - et bien sûr personne n'était en train de lui porter assistance.
A Delhi, le rickshawallah tient visiblement à impressionner ses deux étrangères hindiphones. Nous avons droit aux virages sur deux roues (je ne plaisante pas!) et à deux ou trois accidents évités de justesse, à une vitesse folle. Le tout arrosé d'un sourire ravi aux dents presque blanches lorsque je lui fais un commentaire sur sa conduite. Il profitait également de l'attente aux feux rouges pour expliquer à qui voulait bien l'entendre que nous parlions hindi.
Mes amis Arif et Shireen (ceux que j'ai rencontrés à l'aéroport de Delhi en arrivant de Bombay) m'invitent à manger. J'ai droit à mon premier repas avec viande depuis mon départ de Pune, dans un excellent restaurant dont j'ai bien sûr oublié de retenir le nom.
Nous arrivons chez eux vers minuit. Je suis très heureuse de pouvoir me laver (on n'imagine pas ce que voyager en inde est salissant!), à la lueur d'une bougie, puisque Bijli Devi (la déesse électricité) semble être en grève à Delhi aussi. Dormir sans ventilateur est par contre une autre histoire, et je m'en tire relativement mal, d'autant plus que les moustiques me trouvent tout à fait à leur goût. En somme, je passe une relativement mauvaise nuit.
Plus tard
Me voici installée chez deux excellents amis d'Arif et Shireen. Ainsi fonctionne l'inde: les parents d'Arif ont avancé leur visite de Dubai (en raison des événements récents?), et la chambre d'amis sera donc occupée.
Contrairement à ce qui aurait été le cas il y a deux ans, cela ne me dérange nullement. J'ai appris à faire confiance. En fait, le logement est presque plus confortable ici. Siddharth et Sandeep sont très gentils, et les voisins du dessous, Uma et Susheel, sont des gens adorables.
[06:04]*
Indian Thought
Cleaning the shit is always somebody else's work.
Anne-Marie
[06:02]*
Marasme
L'inde n'est jamais calme, mais en même temps elle est désespérément inerte. On s'enlise dans la lourdeur de la passivité ambiante - et toute notre énergie s'en trouve drainée. Déplacer un caillou requiert autant d'efforts que de faire bouger une montagne. Le temps s'étire en longueur, mais on ne peut rien en faire. Les projets tombent en ruines comme la voiture sans roues abandonnée dans le jardin de notre hôtel: c'est certainement le travail de quelqu'un d'autre de s'en débarrasser.
On y apprend l'attente. On y apprend la passivité, si on avait encore besoin d'entraînement. On y apprend aussi l'ennui, cet ennui qui ronge au fond de la solitude; car en inde on est seul, même si la foule autour ne nous laisse jamais tranquille.
L'individu est seul, parce qu'il n'a pas de place, parce qu'il n'est pas reconnu. Il n'y a que les rôles, ici. Le groupe, la famille, la communauté, et dedans, rien que des rôles. On s'appelle "Grande Soeur" ou "Petit Frère" - pas "Juliette" ou "Léopold". Le petit "je" est oublié, caché sous notre rôle de videshi.
Mais pourtant, d'une façon un peu inexplicable, j'aime ce pays.
Thursday, September 13, 2001
[11:17]*
Unrest
I know it is easy to worry when someone you know is far away. I won't say anything about the situation, apart that there is too much to say, and that I have the feeling it has all been said.
I just wanted to assure you that I am safe, that there is no unrest in the country, and that I will be travelling back to Pune until the middle of next week - so don't you worry if I'm not answering emails.
[11:08]*
Words
Here are some more extracts from Bitter Chocolate.
*
'What can it be called,' she [Vidya Apte of Terre des Hommes] asks, 'when they marry off young girls, except Child Sexual Abuse?' A socially sanctioned environment which crushes the girl-child as she grows: that mother hood can be her only mission, that she therefore has to be 'married off' at the soonest possible legal age even if she is not mentally or emotionally ready for it. What kind of mother can such a child herself make? Most research clearly states that men do not have an in-built 'father touch', they have to actively work on it if they genuinely want to be decent fathers. Young men—nor older ones, for that matter—are not expected to be fathers in the complete sense anyway. But young mothers are expected to 'mother' from the time they are born. Most research also proves that 'natural motherhood' is a myth, there is no such thing as 'mother pangs', except for social pressure. A woman feels 'motherly' only from the third or fourth month of her pregnancy and this is a primal feel which continues for the infant's food and physical protection. There is no other in-built manual on child-rearing in a young mother who is otherwise bewildered, exhausted and very alone. What kind of 'complete' mother can she make to another child?
*
'From childhood women are geing primed to expect too much from marriage and motherhood and too little from anything else,' says Prasanne Invally of Susamvaad which is developing 'marriage workshops' in Marathi. 'Boy children are primed to expect everything from their wives in the marriage, and not give too much if anything at all.' The workshops Susamvaad has conducted till now reveal young couples—about to get married—coming in with 'they lived happily ever after' dreams because the partner is being expected to heavily 'adjust'.
*
Explains Dr Shalini Bharat of the Family Studies unit of the Tata Institute of Social Sciences, 'We have a sacrosanct view of the family in our country, even if it teems with strains within. In such a structure human rights are not regarded as rights in the individual sense. There is a "we", but if you hear an "I" the reaction is knee-jerk even if there is only negativity in this "we-ness". Everyone is supposed to subsume their own individuality in a family, specially the women and definitely the children. Those who want to be an "I", as is the wont of the young males, have to do it outside their family structure and home. This leads to our famous Indian characteristic: the duality-and-denial syndrome. Ghar mein kuch, bahar kuch; like being "vegetarian at home". In such an environment it would be well-nigh impossible to get a family to admit that there is a horror like Child Sexual Abuse happening within the four walls of any house no matter how educated or rich or perhaps more so because the social image of the family has to be guarded. If we acknowledge Child Sexual Abuse in our middle and upper-class homes, we would have to look for reasons for this abuse within. We would then have to admit that these reasons are not as terribly complex as we would like to think. And we cannot have our families being seen as anything less than part of a great and ancient culture, can we now?'
*
[...]First there will have to be acceptance of the very existance of Child Sexual Abuse in all classes of Indian homes. And this acceptance is likely to take a very long time to come because if there is such an acceptance, it would affirm that there are a lot of adults abusing children. And then this would start to say something about Indian society. And its false facade of happy families. And the men in these families. And the kind of women who live with these men.
*
The world over fathers who have been sexually abused when they were little boys tend to sexually abuse children, their own and others, as adults.
Mothers subconsciously try very hard not to sexually abuse children, their own or others, even if they have been sexually abused when they were little girls. Instead women, specially mothers, take it out on themselves. They also physically abuse the child with slaps and other forms of beatings. They emotionally neglect them by mentally 'blanking out' their children from time-to-time; this space which the mother puts between her and her offspring is seen by psychiatrists as a desire on the part of the mother not to hurt her children the way she was hurt by her elders.
*
Well, has there ever been a time when fathers, along with their wives, have not impressed upon their sons, almost conditioned them into thinking, that they—the male—possess that magnificent trump card: the power of choice? Mothers tell their daughters only this: the male will come and choose from a sea of simpering young girls like you; on a white charger he will come and whisk you off your feet, please perfect the art of simpering till he arrives.
The male and his magnificent trump card: that power of choice. So now, before he 'settles down', and even during and after, he also chooses little boys. But will this be enough proof for the parents of young males that they need to explain to their sons that they need to behave with other mothers' daughters, and other people's sons too? If those parents had done this before, maybe the statistics would not be as bad as they are today? And now that the world is turning on its head, or so it may seem to the parents of only sons, with older—and much elder—men actively seeking little boys, what should the mothers and daughters feel?
*
Prema is now a child-prostitute in Calcutta's Sonagaachi. She is not plump anymore, she has several sexual diseases including Aids. She says she never complained against her inspector-father at the police station because she knew they would suspend him and then what would her stepbrother, stepsister and stepmother eat?
[11:05]*
Best Memories
I have often expressed my regret that the portions of my Indian life which I get to tell over and over again are the ones which were the most painful to live. We all know this phenomenon: the worst moments make for the best memories.
Anne-Marie came up with the very simple answer I had been awaiting for ages: these difficult moments, these "adventures", contain drama, and therefore they can be told. They make a good story. Happiness cannot be told. It is a state of being, not a series of events.
Do remember this when I write or talk about India: you are often hearing about the most negative things. I love being here, but there is no way I can really tell you this without boring you to death.
[11:04]*
Pensée indienne
La vie ici est fatigante. Apprends à garder ton énergie pour ce qui en vaut vraiment la peine, et à couler à travers les désagréments mineurs.
[11:03]*
Indian Thought
Eat what is on your plate, as you do not know when your next meal will be. It may also very well be worse than this one.
[10:57]*
Pensée
Si je ne peux pas croire, peut-être puis-je au moins espérer.
[10:53]*
Pensée
Je ne veux que de l'irréfutable. Suis-je condamnée à croupir à jamais dans mes certitudes terrestres et mes espoirs célestes?
[10:52]*
Pensée
Il est important de séparer le domaine de la croyance ou de la conviction religieuse de celui de la connaissance rationelle - et cela, même s'il existe d'autres formes de connaissance que celle-ci.
[10:48]*
Pensée
Dans quelle mesure puis-je écrire un personnage qui ne serait pas moi?
[10:46]*
Thought
To try to pass on one's religious beliefs as rationally proven is the first step to forcing them upon an other.
Tuesday, September 11, 2001
[15:14]*
Dress Code
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.
Sunday, September 09, 2001
[07:20]*
Plan!
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...
Saturday, September 08, 2001
[15:49]*
Feedback Bug
Don't worry if you tried using the feedback form and got an error message. The form works fine - the error message is generated because there is a little problem with the page confirming that your message has reached me. I'll fix it once I'm back home...
Friday, September 07, 2001
[13:24]*
Hindi News
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.
[13:15]*
Transport
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).
[13:11]*
Books
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.
Thursday, September 06, 2001
[05:39]*
Monkeys
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?
Tuesday, September 04, 2001
[06:26]*
AIDS Awareness
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.
[06:18]*
More Backlog
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.
[06:10]*
Boring Backlog
Rishikesh, 29 August 01
24th, day before departure: spent in a stress, as expected. Half-way through the evening meal at Shabri's, my stomach yells "Stop! I won't take a mouthful more!". I insist on swallowing up the three gulab jamun served for desert, though.
2 a.m.: out come the gulab jamun. Temperature: 38.3°C. Three hours of sleep at the most.
25th, day of departure: doctor in the morning. Lots of pills, including a five-day course of antibiotics, to keep me up and running during the journey. I go to Vama to collect my (overdue) ghagra choli. Two hours and four trials later, after having sent Nisha back home, I am arguing about the price with the manager over the phone when I gracefully pass out and crumple to the floor, right in front of the main reception.
I leave the shop with Nisha an hour later (she came back to fetch me), after having nearly fainted two or three more times; I have obtained a meagre 5% discount - very unsatisfying, but it is difficult to argue with conviction when one keeps on passing out. I reach home thirty minutes before the bus to Bombay is due to pick me up.
Travel to Delhi goes very smoothly. The scenery from the Pune-Mumbai Expressway is beautiful in the monsoon sunshine. I get an hour of sleep on the plane. The man in charge of the prepaid taxi counter at Delhi Airport tells me that the New Delhi Railway Station is "15-20 minutes away only. You come, I take you on my scooter anytime, no problem m'am. You can stay at my place, also, yes!" I smile my way out of the situation, as I have learnt to do so very well, and explain that the airport waiting room is a beautiful place to stay in for the night.
I meet a young couple there. They are waiting to pick up a friend. We chat a little, and they very kindly invite me to grab a few hours sleep at their place before driving me to the station on time. They seem very nice people, I am very tempted, I accept. It was a good decision.
26th, uneventful journey to Rishikesh: we have to walk at moments, my luggage is heavy, I have fever, my sari is catching on my legs - but it is all still bearable.
I leave table early that evening: 38.7°C.
27th, first day: I wake up, feeling pretty good. 37.2°C. I sit up in my bed and a sharp pain flashes through my head. I lie down again. A stuffy nose and a sore throat the previous night make me take some cold medicine.
Morning class goes fine, as does lunch. During the second class, I pester against my unsteady hand which makes more and more "typos" as time trickles by. In the middle of the third class, I have to ask the teacher to excuse me and retreat to my room. The now throbbing headache, fever and vague nausea are too much for me to stay functional. Temperature in the evening: 38.8°C.
After hours of pulling the covers off and on, I start dozing off around 2 a.m. - but I really get some sleep only at 4 a.m., when a power cut mercifully shuts down the fan (therefore depriving my poor roommate of any further sleep).
28th, 36.5°C: I still feel a little feverish, but the number on the thermometer looks really good. My head hurts like hell - but not quite as much as during the night, when I wished I could prevent my heart from beating, since every beat was the signal for a flash of pain. I spend the whole day in bed and sleep a lot. Reading isn't really within the realm of my possibilities.
I definitely suspect a concussion, which must have gone by unnoticed because of the anti-fever medicine I was taking at the start. I may be wrong, but it seems the most likely explanation I have come up with up till now.
In the evening, I feel courageous enough to walk down to the hotel restaurant for dinner. It seems to me I haven't checked my email for at least a week (a little under that, in fact) - but due to the heavy rainfalls, the lines are down. I head for bed and sleep a good night's sleep.
29th, I feel "great".
The nausea which was so bad last night has left me, and so has the headache, as long as I keep nice and still. 35.3°C. Thinking that looks a little low, I take my temperature again, but in my mouth this time, instead of underarm as I usually do: 36.8°C. Is there always so much of a difference between the two? Should I add 1.5°C to each of the readings for the last days to get the "real" temperature? That would take us pretty high.Anyway. Things are under control, and the days ahead look brighter than the days behind. I will start classes again tomorrow, but will stay inside the hotel for the next three or four days. I will take my time to decide if I will join the trek to Gangotri or not during the last week, depending on how I feel. I must say that for the moment I doubt I will be fit enough, unless some really spectacular remission takes place (not to say that I won't be fit in absolute - but it does take some time to get back into peak condition, doesn't it?)
Reconnaissance
Rishikesh, 26 Août 01
Me voici saine et sauve à Rishikesh. J'ai passé mes deux derniers jours à Pune dans le stress (c'était prévisible: trop de gens à voir et de choses à faire, ce n'était pas possible).
Quitter Pune. C'est moins dur que la dernière fois, mais c'est loin d'être facile. Les Shinde sont des gens véritablement adorables. Leur gratitude me fait mal; aussi parce que je leur suis au moins également reconnaissante - pour des choses moins visibles, certes, et donc peut-êtres ignorées pour certaines, mais non moins importantes ou réelles.
Aleika m'a donné tant de clés pour comprendre ce pays et y vivre en tant que videshi. Je lui dois de me sentir "chez moi" ici. Et indirectement, je le dois aussi aux Shinde. Tout ce qu'ils ont donné à Aleika au cours des années, j'en ai reçu les fruits.
Bien sûr, il y a tout ce que les Shinde m'ont donné directement. Leur générosité et leur disponibilité est immense. Nous sommes dans un cercle vicieux de gratitude - un cercle vicieux positif. Aleika déjà le disait très bien: "Ils me doivent tellement, et je leur dois tellement aussi."
Bitter Chocolate
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.
Thursday, August 23, 2001
[18:48]*
Expressway
The new Mumbai-Pune Expressway is beautiful. I mean, it looks like a highway - a real one. To prove it, here is a collection of the panels you can find on it:
- Rainy season go slow
- Observe lane discipline [that was quickly lost when the traffic got a bit heavy]
- Stopping on expressway strictly prohibited [you bet!]
- Pedestrians, cycles and bullock carts forbidden on expressway [actually, now that I think of it, we didn't see any bullock carts]
- Overspeeding and tyre bursting cause accidents - observe speed limit 80 km/h [no comment]
- Do not stop in tunnel
[18:38]*
Train de Regards
Bombay (train local), 22 Août 01
Je me sens bien à Pune. C'est difficile de décrire pourquoi - de mettre le doigt sur ce que j'apprécie. Comment décrire une atmosphère? C'est une sorte de qualité d'être-là. Ce qui m'amène à Pune, c'est plus que les magasins et même les gens. C'est la ville et sa vie, aussi dans ce qu'elle a de dur, de laid et de malodorant. Oui, on peut aimer ce qui est pénible - je me rends compte que c'est quelque chose que beaucoup de gens ont du mal à saisir.
La nouvelle autoroute qui mène à Bombay est magnifique. Trois voies, tarmac (presque) lisse, et absence quasi-totale de trafic. Elle est payante, que croyez-vous. Au milieu d'un tunnel, j'aurais presque pu me sentir en europe.
Sa principale étrangeté réside dans la nature des panneaux qui la jalonnent: "Piétons et chars à boeufs interdits", "Interdiction de s'arrêter sur l'autoroute", etc. Nous avons cependant croisé quelques chiens, un petit troupeau de vaches, et bon nombre de piétons (les travailleurs de la route?)
J'aimerais prendre une photo de ce train bondé dans lequel je suis assise, mais je n'ose pas. Le fait que je sois en train d'écrire me vaut encore plus d'attention que celle que j'attire simplement en étant là - mais au moins comme ça, je ne m'en rends pas compte. Une jolie petite fille vêtue d'une robe rose vient de passer les dix dernières minutes, fascinée, à regarder mon stylo courir sur le papier.
Sortir un appareil de photo maintenant est tout simplement impensable. C'est bête, je sais bien que je vais le regretter, plus tard, quand je repenserai à ma collection de "photos pas prises" - mais je ne peux pas le faire.
Les gens ont une façon de me regarder qui me déstabilise. Dans notre culture, il est impoli de dévisager autrui ouvertement. Ici, point de ça. On m'observe, sans gêne et sans discontinuer, la bouche ouverte parfois. Je croise des regards qui ne se détournent pas, qui ne semblent même pas enregistrer le fait qu'un autre être humain les regarde à leur tour. Il y a une modalité de regard qui objective l'autre, le transformant en cheveu sur la soupe. C'est ce regard-là qu'on m'assène le plus souvent. C'est celui-là qui m'empêche de sortir mon appareil de photo - et au fond, c'est aussi le regard du photographe, qui fait qu'on se gêne devant l'objectif.
Sur un banc, quatre personnes. Trois s'y tiennent comfortablement, mais à quatre, c'est hanche contre hanche, et le dernier n'a qu'une moitié de siège pour y poser une fesse douloureuse.
Nous ne sommes que trois sur mon banc. Shinde s'est assis un instant puis s'est relevé, trop incomfortable. Il y a des gens debout dans le couloir; je pourrais me presser contre mon voisin de droite et faire une petite place. Mais il fait chaud et humide, j'ai faim et je n'ai pas envie de me trouver coincée entre deux hommes susceptibles de me regarder comme une bête curieuse. Je profite donc égoistement de mon statut de femme étrangère et je garde ma place, le nez obstinément plongé dans mon écriture.
[12:50]*
Photos
If you try to look at my photos, you must be getting a whole bunch of nasty php error messages. All my apologies - it probably has something to do with the server shift, and I'll try to get it fixed as fast as possible.
Tuesday, August 21, 2001
[07:10]*
Site
After quite a lot of waiting and fingernail gnawing, the site is back up. All my apologies for those of you who were faced with a "server not found" error message. I hope you'll enjoy the reading I kept in store for you.
Did you like it? Here are some more posts for you...
