OH SIR

Living in Rajasthani heat is really taxing. It's about 110 degrees everyday and the nights aren't much cooler. Generally, there is no electricity during the days (what they refer to as "power cuts"); so that means no functioniong ceiling fan.

But I have to say, this has been absolutely wonderful so far. The teaching is frustrating in that, it's very difficult (or impossible) to teach a foreign language without any standardized materials. Most kids don't have anything more than a pencil and a notebooks---and the kids with books have so many different kinds: no one title. I've tried to jump that hurdle by creating a phonetics guide along with a bunch of vocabulary lists and diagrams. I get them photocopied while I'm here in Udaipur. It's pretty steep---1 rupee a page, so like, 2 cents a page in America. I feel like that's not so much cheaper.


There is this one boy in Neemdi, his name is Piyush. (Left) He is truly, the MOST adorable boy in the world. He's probably about five years old and has a sweet treble voice. And he follows in the tradition of people I like more because they've taken a liking to me. He's constantly clinging to my leg and hanging off the window bars during my other sections. When his section ends at 9:30am he always hugs my leg and says, "Mein na jayunga." (I won't go.) That makes me want to eat him. Or roll him down a hill. Or whatever people do with unlawfully cute things.

In my middle batch there is this girl named Sonu (on the right in the picture below, with friend Divya who is referred to as the peacock). If Rachel Dratch were a 12 year old Indian girl: she would be Sonu. When she started coming to school, she was very shy. So shy, that everytime I would look at her she would start to giggle. And (not in a mean way) Sonu just has a humorous face---so a giggling Sonu is, well, very humorous. When I'd reference Sonu or even reference something near Sonu, she would start giggling like shy 12 year old girls do. And her trademark would be covering her mouth---with everything. When she smiles or laughs out of shyness, she covers her mouth with her hands, her scarf, her pen, her book, the carpet, a window shutter, the girl next to her---I mean EVERYTHING. It has been so ridiculous that I burst out laughing in the middle of my lessons.

I had started to draw a picture of Sonu on the blackboard---one that depicted her eyes peeking over an open book. And when I did this, Sonu got extremely serious and screamed "NO SIR!".

I can't really explain how she screamed. But suffice to say, my ears literally hurt after she was done. Screaming like I've never heard before. Screaming that could shatter glass. I have fortunately captured MPEG video of this.

Since this incident Sonu has hidden her mouth with a well-pump, a pack of cards, a cow, and a bag of rice. She has also thrown rocks at me. Not pebbles. Big rocks.

So, village life has been wonderful and great and super. No problems.

I have unfortunately had some problems with the managing team of our organization. When we were in orientation I was stopped by some of the "executives" (as they're called) and told things like: "Niral, you don't have sincere eyes. You have to have bright eyes when you speak to people."

Really?

REALLY?

Are you kidding me? I made up bright eyes. I am the professor who forged the path to a Bright Eyes major in most universities. If bright eyes were a person, it would be me. Like seriously, I don't know anything about Microbiology or Art History (what I've studied) but I know a LOT about bright eyes.

The executives have a lot of resentment towards me because I'm an NRI. (Non Residential Indian, Non Returning Indian, Not Really Indian, etc.)

I didn't really think much about it at first but it escalated to a point where I was target of a lot of undeserved scrutiny and criticism. Tell me I'm not teaching well, but DON'T TELL ME I DON'T HAVE BRIGHT EYES.

It hurts on some level to think that they don't accept me as Indian. There used to be a part of me that felt foreign in America---which is understandable. And, naturally, there is a part of me now that feels foreign in India. However, I don't really have the feeling "I don't fit in anywhere." Quite contrarily, I'm feeling very much affirmed of my American identity. Haha, I don't know if that's a good thing that I'm feeling like MORE of an American while I'm abroad.

Anyhow, I again and in a rush to get back home to Neemdi from Udaipur. Until next week.

Neemdi

Where to start?

I don't know where I left off.

About a week ago, I moved to a small village called Neemdi outside of Udaipur in India. Through an organization called The Learning Foundation of India, I've been given the opportunity to teach English and basic computer literacy to underprivilaged kids.

After the orientation for the project in Jaipur, we took an over-night bus to a small city called Bhindar (our base of operations and a relative centerpoint of the villages served). After an extremely drawn out reception ceremony (including speeches by teachers and headmasters that lasted two hours), we headed out to the villages.

I have been paired with a boy named Nishant from Haryana. He and I were the first to be dropped off---in front of the exact school you would imagine an Indian village having. There we were "greeted" by our contact person in the village, Laxmiji. Laxmiji explained to us that there was some trouble and that the host family that had agreed to house us would no longer be able to do so.

...

So we sat in the school for an hour in 110 degree weather. Someone suggested that we sleep in the school. Where would we shower and use the restroom? There is a barber shop 100 meters down the road.

...

To my disappointment, Nishant was overwhelmingly agreeable. And of course, I couldn't say anything or I'd be the "disagreeable American." So, I started to counsel myself. It's fine. It's only a month. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. At least you won't have to travel far to get to school. It'll be great actually! It'll be like fending for yourself in nature.

But, my distaste for the sleeping-in-the-school idea must have been radiating from my expression because they started offering to "search the town for a better solution." Great...

So, we walked away from the school, on the one main road in Neemdi. And, we entered the first building on the right. "This is a vacant building. No one lives here. There's no front door but don't worry, it's a safe village." Uh-huh. We passed a couple of rooms with some dirt floors and very modest plumbing (including a hole in the floor). "This is the bathroom and shower. If you'd like we can put a curtain up." Uh-huh. We walked up a flight of narrow stairs and we were on the flat roof of the vacant house. "You can sleep up here. Do you think you'll need a bed? Or will the floor do?" Uh-huh.

Nishant said, "This is fine."

This is fine? I mean. It's FINE. But there's no food and there's no door on the bathroom. I started to counsel. No, it's FINE. It'll be like the Boxcar Children or something. We'll struggle and come out on top! What an experience!

"Is this fine with you Niral?"

"No, this is great," I said. Again, my distaste must have been seething from my pores because we continued to "search for other options." But then, a young boy came running and whispered something to Laxmiji. Laxmiji said, "Another host family has decided to take you in."

Great. Now the village hates us because no one wanted us. And now one family has taken us in but they're going to hate us because the rest of the village hates them because they took us in. Great.

We walked deeper into the village passing a beautiful tree at the convergence of two roads. The tree was surrounded by a raised circular white stone bench covered with old Brahmin men (I guess talking about philosophy or something...). Just as you'd expect in a village.

After a few minutes we came to a small, but very nice house. We were ushered into a small set of doors right next to the main door. "This will be your room." Ok. This looks okay.

The room is about 12X10---just about enough room for two twin sized cots and our luggage. The walls are covered in fading milky blue plaster. Pictures of Sarasvati and Krishna are randomly pasted on the wall---gaudy clocks and mismatched wall hangings are everywhere. Very odd. YES. There is a ceiling fan!

We were immediately given chai and crackers and Nishant started to speak to the 12 gawking children piled in our doorway. My new host brother Punit (12) started to ask questions about me (in Hindi to Nishant). "Where are you from?" "How long are you here for?" Pretty standard stuff.

I then made the mistake of taking my digital camera out. I took a picture of the kids---and was then literally attacked by all of them trying to see the LCD screen. I also met my two host sisters, Niramla (8) and Sheetal (3). And, my host parents Ramratanji and Radharukmanji.

Everyone was very accomodating and finally after a long talk and dinner we went to bed.

---

The next morning (Saturday) we started classes. Not because we were prepared or really excited to start teaching---but moreso to create the image that we we were there to work. As I had mentioned there was some bickering about our arrival, so we wanted to prove we were ambassadors of good will.

Our first class was great fun. Shapes and colors. "Always speak in full sentences." Totally BSed off the top of my head. But I started to get an idea of the level of English in the village.

That level is nothing. Often I'll ask "How old are you?" And I'll get "I'm fine," in response.

After a week though, our teaching schedule has finally been settled. 8-9:30 we teach primary school kids (basically, we play games and sing songs like Head-Shoulders-Knees-and-Toes). 10:30-12:30 we teach 11-15 year olds. These kids don't have the tenacity to really learn English formally but they're mostly intelligent. So, with these kids we focus on spoken English and removing the fear of speaking. Finally 1-3 we teach 15+ (except for one very smart 13 year old girl). These are the "advanced" English students. But really, they're not so much "advanced" in English---just more "advanced" in age. Regardless, I'm teaching them legitimate grammar, parts of speech, and phonetics.

I hate drawing lines at sex and propogating the gender binary---but I'll do it anyway. I've noticed in the primary section that boys are more raucous and confident. Girls are shy and not as responsive. This is also true in the middle section. However, in the advanced section, the girls are a pleasure to work with. They're all wonderfully mannered, always prepared, and very smart. The boys, on the otherhand seem to have lost their confidence with age and are pretty much stupid.

Anyhow, this week has been a wonderful experience. And, I'm so happy that I'm here. I'm writing from a hotel in Udaipur where I'm staying for the weekend. But, my bus back to Neemdi is in half an hour so I have to go right now.

I'll be back in Udaipur next weekend. So until then.

Gotta Move

I guess I said make a mess.

I have literally two minutes to update: so, quick runthrough of what's going on.

I was bored in Vadodara. I decided to do something new. I found a program teaching English and computer literacy to underprivileged children in Rajasthan.

I ran away. (Well I told everyone.) My cell phone doesn't work here. I have like fifty dollars. No credit card. I'm in orientation for the program currently. My bus ride was 17 hours long. Are you kidding? I could fly to India from America in that much time.

Ok, so I'm here for six weeks. I'll try to figure out my phone situation soon. And I'll try to post more soon!

But, I have to say I'm really excited. And, the realization that you can still have an adventure: even in today's techologized world is an AMAZING one to have.

Ok bye.

Con Foos Ed

The rainy season of India has begun. The moonsoons have certainly come. I'm sitting in a cyber cafe right off one of the major roads in Baroda---which has literally turned into a small murky river.

This has been quite an eventful week. If I can say one definitive thing about India it's that the food here is amazing. The home cooking of the family I'm staying with is simply delicious. And, though I've yet to try it, the modified vegetarian menu of McDonalds looks GREAT. I'm dying to try the "Veg Pizza Puff": I guess it's somewhat analagous to a Hot Pocket.

I think I'm here to help. Strangely, there are too many and no opportunities at the same time.

The Heart Clinic at which I'm supposed to be interning is not really the best vehicle for me to serve. That is, the Baroda Heart Clinic (BHC) is essentially a healthcare institution for the well-off in India. After spending a week at the hospital, I've realized there is very little for me to do there. Without some kind of healthcare degree (M.D., nutrition, etc.), I am virtually useless. I can't even be the waterboy---because God knows, if India isn't short on anything, it's manpower.

So this past week, I've been finding my footing. Where to go? What to do? Where to apply? I've submitted about eight applications to several teaching programs based in eastern India. One of those, has already accepted me. The problem is: the program starts in three days.

I decided on the plane ride here that I wanted to make a mess. Take risks. Deal with the consequences. Learn. Take another risk.

I suppose I could just join this program. That would mean leaving Vadodara for some small village in Rajasthan (the state north of Gujarat) in a couple of days. It would also mean leaving home-cooked meals and my own bedroom. But this is what I wanted! I wanted to live in a village and now I can! So, I am, in fact, very excited and hope this possibility materializes.