As a typical American woman, when my boyfriend of ten months proposed we get married within the next few weeks, my reaction was "whoa, no way, this is way too soon." To me, the natural progression of a relationship was dating for a year or more, engagement for a year or more, and finally getting married. However, this typical American woman moved to India and fell in love with an Indian. Here, dating is unheard of, engagement is a brief period of a few weeks, and marriage means you're actually in a commited relationship. So, we compromised our cultures and had a Hindu wedding a few days later to be followed by an American wedding in a few years. While I knew our personal views on marriage were strongly influenced by culture, I didn't realize how much so until we started to tell others of the news.
My American friends' reactions came as no surprise to me. "Whoa, this is a big decision, are you sure you're ready for this?" "Isn't this a bit fast." And of course the undertone of "Have you gone off your rocker." I understood these reactions, they're what mine would've been. Had I not been the one discussing and debating the decision for the previous few weeks, I would've been equally shocked and probably quite judgmental. As a result, I've been hesitant to tell people about the wedding and am still having a hard time with the words "married" and "husband." Since this is the first of our weddings, I kinda feel like we're half-married; we're somewhere beyond engagement but until I have my traditional American ceremony, I just won't be able to feel like I'm really truly married.
In theory, I understood Umes's push for us to have a Hindu wedding. I know that anything besides marriage isn't really respected here and that it was important to him to have our commitment to each other respected as real and true by his community. However, I still thought people would be a bit shocked since it happened after only 10 months and some of my work friends didn't even know I was dating anyone. Oh how wrong I was. The other day he came to my office with me and I introduced him as my husband. Nobody batted an eye. They simply said "oh, that's nice" and "nice to meet you." There was no surprise at us being married and people who did know of us dating seemed genuinely relieved that we had (finally) gotten married. Here, marriage is just a fact a life. It's what you do. It's not a "big decision" the way it is in the U.S. When you get to a certain age you get married. You commit to someone (who you may or may not know) and build a life as a family.
The dichotomy of reactions and the different perspectives they represent was truly eye opening. I don't think anything in my year of living here could've prepared me for the realization of the vast cultural divide between India and the U.S.
Showing posts with label Thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thoughts. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Hyderabadi Shaadi
As the realization that I would be leaving Hyderabad in a few short weeks hit Umes and I, we decided that it was important to both of us to solidify our commitment to one another more officially than we already had. Because of our respective dating pasts and since the only real commitment recognized in India is marriage, we decided to have a traditional Hindu marriage ceremony. So, last weekend we started looking for priests and locations which would perform a shortened version of the ceremony for us (the real ceremony is about 8 hours long). After having our auto driver (who thinks we're Muslim) drive us to 3 temples all across town only to be rejected since I'm not a Hindu, we were starting to get a bit concerned. However, Umes had the business card of a local Oriya (his state) priest whom he thought would perform the ceremony. We called the priest and he was out of town, but would return on Monday morning. So, we put off wedding planning and went to a crafts fair where I found a gorgeous saree that I decided to buy on a whim as a potential wedding saree.
Later that day Umes found his March horoscope and read it as he does every month. He quickly turned to me and said "we have to get married on Wednesday." My reply was shock and confusion seeing as it was already Sunday night and we had made no preparations whatsoever. Moreover, we didn't have a priest and wouldn't be able to even talk to one until Monday night. Both our horoscopes made it very clear, however, that Venus was going to be in retrograde starting on the 6th (Friday) so getting married anytime after (or near) that time would be very inauspicious for both Libras and Sagis. We started to panic but realized there was nothing we could do until Monday night.
On Monday evening we met with the Oriya priest who confirmed that he would perform the ceremony no later than Wednesday afternoon and that it should begin sometime between 2:00 and 4:00 in the afternoon. So, we said okay and embarked upon 36 hours of completely chaotic wedding planning. That evening we went to get fabric for the petticoat and blouse for my saree and started desperately calling tailors to see if they could stitch my blouse within a few hours the next day. We then went home and emailed our family and close friends in Hyderabad asking them to join us for our last minute celebration. There was obviously a lot of shock but excitement in their responses. My parents quickly said they wanted to discuss it over Skype and since it was 9pm and we hadn't eaten dinner yet, we talked to them about it while I stirred pasta and chopped tomatoes. Luckily they were supportive and just disappointed that they couldn't be there.
Then a few phone calls were made to friends who were crucial to the ceremony. The most important being a close friend here who could stand in as a father figure and "give me away." Without him, the ceremony couldn't happen. We also wanted to ensure that a couple of our other closest friends could make it, particularly the woman who introduced us. Upon completing those tasks, we fell into bed exhausted and making lists of all the things that needed to be done on Tuesday to prepare for Wednesday's ceremony.
Tuesday was insane. The tailor who told us they'd get the blouse done had come down with a fever and was now unavailable; I officially had nothing to wear to my wedding. The florist started quoting ridiculous prices and we didn't have any snacks in the house to feed our guests on Wednesday. We asked our landlord for use of a spare room on our floor and luckily she offered it willingly. When it became clear around noon that the tailor really was not going to stitch my blouse I desperately asked my landlady if she knew of anyone. Luckily she did, so we went to the other side of town to get measured and have my blouse stitched. On the way back we stopped at the grocery store and the sweets shop to get nourishment for our guests. We then figured out a plan to rearrange the furniture so that the couch and chairs could go in our bedroom where there was air conditioning. We weren't going to ask our guests to stay in the 102 degree heat all afternoon! Anshuman and I both went out briefly with friends on Tuesday night so we could have bachelor and bachelorette "parties." We each had one cocktail with one friend and then ended up meeting up all together for snacks. Needless to say, we'll need to have genuine parties before our American wedding.
Wednesday morning came and we started our mad dash to the altar. Neither of us could eat per Oriya tradition, so we had lots to do and little energy or time. We rearranged the household furniture and our maid showed up on time to help get the house cleaned up and organize things. The florist showed up (late and after several phone calls) and things seemed to be on track. Then I tried on my blouse and realized that it was too small by about 2 inches. There was absolutely no way it was going to close over my ribcage. Umes realized that he had forgotten to buy his clothes for the wedding as he was supposed to wear a brand new kurta. So, around 10:30 he embarked upon a journey to get garlands, have my blouse restitched, buy his clothes, and pick up the samosas and sweets from the caterer. He was to be home no later than 1:00 or I would start to panic. I stayed home to supervise the florist and the maid and handle any phone calls.
I got into the shower around noon to begin to prepare myself to be a bride. Painting my own toenails and doing my hair and makeup alone were not exactly what I ever pictured on my wedding day, but I managed to accomplish it. Umes made it home (barely) by 1:00 and my friend had arrived by then to help me tie my saree (we figured we needed at least an hour to do this). Around 2:00, the saree was on (thanks to the help of the maid; we never would've accomplished it on our own).
I then realized in a panic that it was already 2:00 and my family was awake in the middle of the night in Maryland waiting for my call so they could watch the ceremony via Skype. I called them, told them that we weren't ready yet and the priests weren't there and to just hold on and wait and we'd make sure the connection was good when things actually started happening.
Since my face and hair were starting to melt off from the 100 degree heat at that point, I said goodbye and headed back to the air conditioned bedroom. Our guests started to arrive and we all hung out in the bedroom while we waited for the priests, who were about an hour late. Upon their arrival we discovered that there were a few items that they hadn't expressly told us we needed under the assumption that any Indian household would have them. These included images of a god and clean sheets to put on the floor to sit on. Luckily a milk-painted god image was a reasonable subsitute as were some of the old rugs sitting in a cupboard. Finally, the ceremony began.
We sat for three hours in front of a fire in 100 degree afternoon heat and went through all the important rituals of a Hindu marriage ceremony. The Skype session worked beautifully the whole time and my Dad was able to answer questions about his grandfather's name and could "give me away" virtually. Being able to look up and see my family online from time to time made the whole thing easier. By the time the ceremony was over, we were all completely exhausted and overwhelmed, but quite happy and proud of ourselves for making it through 48 hours of total chaos. We were finally (half) married and totally pooped. Here are some pictures of the big event.
Later that day Umes found his March horoscope and read it as he does every month. He quickly turned to me and said "we have to get married on Wednesday." My reply was shock and confusion seeing as it was already Sunday night and we had made no preparations whatsoever. Moreover, we didn't have a priest and wouldn't be able to even talk to one until Monday night. Both our horoscopes made it very clear, however, that Venus was going to be in retrograde starting on the 6th (Friday) so getting married anytime after (or near) that time would be very inauspicious for both Libras and Sagis. We started to panic but realized there was nothing we could do until Monday night.
On Monday evening we met with the Oriya priest who confirmed that he would perform the ceremony no later than Wednesday afternoon and that it should begin sometime between 2:00 and 4:00 in the afternoon. So, we said okay and embarked upon 36 hours of completely chaotic wedding planning. That evening we went to get fabric for the petticoat and blouse for my saree and started desperately calling tailors to see if they could stitch my blouse within a few hours the next day. We then went home and emailed our family and close friends in Hyderabad asking them to join us for our last minute celebration. There was obviously a lot of shock but excitement in their responses. My parents quickly said they wanted to discuss it over Skype and since it was 9pm and we hadn't eaten dinner yet, we talked to them about it while I stirred pasta and chopped tomatoes. Luckily they were supportive and just disappointed that they couldn't be there.
Then a few phone calls were made to friends who were crucial to the ceremony. The most important being a close friend here who could stand in as a father figure and "give me away." Without him, the ceremony couldn't happen. We also wanted to ensure that a couple of our other closest friends could make it, particularly the woman who introduced us. Upon completing those tasks, we fell into bed exhausted and making lists of all the things that needed to be done on Tuesday to prepare for Wednesday's ceremony.
Tuesday was insane. The tailor who told us they'd get the blouse done had come down with a fever and was now unavailable; I officially had nothing to wear to my wedding. The florist started quoting ridiculous prices and we didn't have any snacks in the house to feed our guests on Wednesday. We asked our landlord for use of a spare room on our floor and luckily she offered it willingly. When it became clear around noon that the tailor really was not going to stitch my blouse I desperately asked my landlady if she knew of anyone. Luckily she did, so we went to the other side of town to get measured and have my blouse stitched. On the way back we stopped at the grocery store and the sweets shop to get nourishment for our guests. We then figured out a plan to rearrange the furniture so that the couch and chairs could go in our bedroom where there was air conditioning. We weren't going to ask our guests to stay in the 102 degree heat all afternoon! Anshuman and I both went out briefly with friends on Tuesday night so we could have bachelor and bachelorette "parties." We each had one cocktail with one friend and then ended up meeting up all together for snacks. Needless to say, we'll need to have genuine parties before our American wedding.
Wednesday morning came and we started our mad dash to the altar. Neither of us could eat per Oriya tradition, so we had lots to do and little energy or time. We rearranged the household furniture and our maid showed up on time to help get the house cleaned up and organize things. The florist showed up (late and after several phone calls) and things seemed to be on track. Then I tried on my blouse and realized that it was too small by about 2 inches. There was absolutely no way it was going to close over my ribcage. Umes realized that he had forgotten to buy his clothes for the wedding as he was supposed to wear a brand new kurta. So, around 10:30 he embarked upon a journey to get garlands, have my blouse restitched, buy his clothes, and pick up the samosas and sweets from the caterer. He was to be home no later than 1:00 or I would start to panic. I stayed home to supervise the florist and the maid and handle any phone calls.
I got into the shower around noon to begin to prepare myself to be a bride. Painting my own toenails and doing my hair and makeup alone were not exactly what I ever pictured on my wedding day, but I managed to accomplish it. Umes made it home (barely) by 1:00 and my friend had arrived by then to help me tie my saree (we figured we needed at least an hour to do this). Around 2:00, the saree was on (thanks to the help of the maid; we never would've accomplished it on our own).
I then realized in a panic that it was already 2:00 and my family was awake in the middle of the night in Maryland waiting for my call so they could watch the ceremony via Skype. I called them, told them that we weren't ready yet and the priests weren't there and to just hold on and wait and we'd make sure the connection was good when things actually started happening.
Since my face and hair were starting to melt off from the 100 degree heat at that point, I said goodbye and headed back to the air conditioned bedroom. Our guests started to arrive and we all hung out in the bedroom while we waited for the priests, who were about an hour late. Upon their arrival we discovered that there were a few items that they hadn't expressly told us we needed under the assumption that any Indian household would have them. These included images of a god and clean sheets to put on the floor to sit on. Luckily a milk-painted god image was a reasonable subsitute as were some of the old rugs sitting in a cupboard. Finally, the ceremony began.
We sat for three hours in front of a fire in 100 degree afternoon heat and went through all the important rituals of a Hindu marriage ceremony. The Skype session worked beautifully the whole time and my Dad was able to answer questions about his grandfather's name and could "give me away" virtually. Being able to look up and see my family online from time to time made the whole thing easier. By the time the ceremony was over, we were all completely exhausted and overwhelmed, but quite happy and proud of ourselves for making it through 48 hours of total chaos. We were finally (half) married and totally pooped. Here are some pictures of the big event.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Scared
My apologies for not posting. I'm feeling very apprehensive and scared these days. Nervous about leaving my fiance here in India, worried about the transition for both of us to the U.S., and upset by the state of the global economy and its implications for our career goals and futures. The next few months are going to be a huge transition time for me (and us) and while I know that in the long-run things are going to be fine, I'm experiencing a lot of self-doubt and fear in the present and about the near-term future. Posting will likely remain intermittent, but your love and support during this emotional period is appreciated.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Things I Can't Wait to Eat When I Get Back to the US (i.e. Hints for my Parents and Sister to Have the Fridge Stocked)
My sister arrives in Hyderabad early tomorrow morning (in fact, she's currently somewhere between Amsterdam and Mumbai) and as I've been thinking about all the delicious Indian foods I want to feed her, I've also started thinking about all the things that I want to eat when my plane lands back in the US in a few months. So, here's the list so far. It may reflect poor dietary habits and even poorer taste, but hey, I miss these foods!
-arugula and baby spinach salad
-avocados
-fresh fruit and vegetables straight out of the garden without disinfecting
-cherry tomatoes, asparagus, and peas eaten directly off the vine in the garden... no washing required!
-nachos
-enchiladas
-pie
-Ellio's Frozen Pizza (yes, I know it's disgusting, but it was a special treat as a kid and I still love it)
-Procolino's pizza
-wood fired pizza from my Dad's oven
-homemade oven-baked crunchy topped mac 'n cheese
-cookies that I baked myself (ok, this one doesn't really count since I miss the baking more than the cookies)
-cheese, cheese, and more cheese... especially good cheddar, dubliner, and camembert
-Carr's water crackers (to eat shamelessly with the aforementioned cheese and fruit)
-good bread: chewy baguettes, crunchy whole-grain loafs, delicious rolls
-homemade biscuits slathered with butter and raspberry jam
-whole-grain pancakes with real maple syrup
-nice tart orange juice (the juice here is made with super sweet oranges)
-seltzer water
Ok, I need to stop now before I eat the entire contents of my fridge in a vain attempt to cure my cravings for the above foods, none of which are actually contained within my fridge.
-arugula and baby spinach salad
-avocados
-fresh fruit and vegetables straight out of the garden without disinfecting
-cherry tomatoes, asparagus, and peas eaten directly off the vine in the garden... no washing required!
-nachos
-enchiladas
-pie
-Ellio's Frozen Pizza (yes, I know it's disgusting, but it was a special treat as a kid and I still love it)
-Procolino's pizza
-wood fired pizza from my Dad's oven
-homemade oven-baked crunchy topped mac 'n cheese
-cookies that I baked myself (ok, this one doesn't really count since I miss the baking more than the cookies)
-cheese, cheese, and more cheese... especially good cheddar, dubliner, and camembert
-Carr's water crackers (to eat shamelessly with the aforementioned cheese and fruit)
-good bread: chewy baguettes, crunchy whole-grain loafs, delicious rolls
-homemade biscuits slathered with butter and raspberry jam
-whole-grain pancakes with real maple syrup
-nice tart orange juice (the juice here is made with super sweet oranges)
-seltzer water
Ok, I need to stop now before I eat the entire contents of my fridge in a vain attempt to cure my cravings for the above foods, none of which are actually contained within my fridge.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
I cried.
I know I have failed on my New Year's resolution, but that's part of the point, right? Nobody actually keeps these things. To make up for it, I'll put a more personal post out there today (gasp!)
My boyfriend and I have been quite busily planning our future since he is Indian, I am American, and I am returning to the U.S. on the last day of March. We've had to really think about what we want and have had many discussions about how we're going to make our relationship work and the next steps we want to take. After many many talks we've decided to get engaged before I leave India in a traditional Hindu ceremony. We'll get married when he decides to come to the U.S. in a year or so (the exact date will be determined based on job prospects, school breaks, etc.) After we're married, we'll start planning 2 weddings: a traditional Hindu ceremony and a modern Unitarian ceremony. Because he is a bit of a traditionalist, we decided to have two ceremonies rather than merging the two traditions into one.
We were both happy with this solution, but I have not come to terms with the idea of having a 15 hour Sanskrit ceremony where I don't understand what's going on. It's very important to me that I am conscious and knowing about what I'm doing on my wedding day (even if it is just 1 of 3). Today, while we were walking back from talking to a Priest about the engagement ceremony, I brought it up again. I told him I don't want to do a Hindu ceremony unless we have a translator of some sort. He insisted that it was impossible to find a bilingual priest and that there can only be 3 people on the altar, so a translator was impossible. We fought about it the whole way home and I got increasingly angry that he wasn't willing to compromise and that we couldn't come up with a solution. Then he dropped the bomb "I know Sanskrit and wanted to translate the entire ceremony for you as a surprise on our wedding day." I wanted to punch him in the face and give him a huge kiss at the same time, so naturally, I just cried.
Such a lovely romantic notion: my husband translating an ancient text about love alound to me while we went through rituals that have been performed for thousands of years. I was floored. I had so misread the situation: I thought he had no concern for my feelings on the day when he was doing everything he could to make me elated that day. And yet I was so mad! We could've avoided all these arguments and all my stress about it if he'd just told me. AGH!
Since my tears have dried and I've stopped blowing my nose, I am now just happy. Happy to have someone who cares so much that he'll do anything to surprise me with joy, happy to know how wonderful our wedding day(s) will be, and happy to have finally busted the secret!
My boyfriend and I have been quite busily planning our future since he is Indian, I am American, and I am returning to the U.S. on the last day of March. We've had to really think about what we want and have had many discussions about how we're going to make our relationship work and the next steps we want to take. After many many talks we've decided to get engaged before I leave India in a traditional Hindu ceremony. We'll get married when he decides to come to the U.S. in a year or so (the exact date will be determined based on job prospects, school breaks, etc.) After we're married, we'll start planning 2 weddings: a traditional Hindu ceremony and a modern Unitarian ceremony. Because he is a bit of a traditionalist, we decided to have two ceremonies rather than merging the two traditions into one.
We were both happy with this solution, but I have not come to terms with the idea of having a 15 hour Sanskrit ceremony where I don't understand what's going on. It's very important to me that I am conscious and knowing about what I'm doing on my wedding day (even if it is just 1 of 3). Today, while we were walking back from talking to a Priest about the engagement ceremony, I brought it up again. I told him I don't want to do a Hindu ceremony unless we have a translator of some sort. He insisted that it was impossible to find a bilingual priest and that there can only be 3 people on the altar, so a translator was impossible. We fought about it the whole way home and I got increasingly angry that he wasn't willing to compromise and that we couldn't come up with a solution. Then he dropped the bomb "I know Sanskrit and wanted to translate the entire ceremony for you as a surprise on our wedding day." I wanted to punch him in the face and give him a huge kiss at the same time, so naturally, I just cried.
Such a lovely romantic notion: my husband translating an ancient text about love alound to me while we went through rituals that have been performed for thousands of years. I was floored. I had so misread the situation: I thought he had no concern for my feelings on the day when he was doing everything he could to make me elated that day. And yet I was so mad! We could've avoided all these arguments and all my stress about it if he'd just told me. AGH!
Since my tears have dried and I've stopped blowing my nose, I am now just happy. Happy to have someone who cares so much that he'll do anything to surprise me with joy, happy to know how wonderful our wedding day(s) will be, and happy to have finally busted the secret!
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Your Taxpayer Rupees
Oops! I missed posting yesterday, so there will be two today to make up for it. First, I'll share a little story about one of my errands yesterday:
A couple days ago I saw an advertisement in the newspaper for a Ravi and Anoushka Shankar concert here in Hyderabad. There were no details about ticket purchases except an email address to write to for more information. I emailed requesting tickets and got the following reply:
"Dear Sir / Madam,
Thank you very much for your interest in attending the Concert of Pt. Ravishankar and Anoushka. For your information this is not a ticketed event and entry is by invitation only. We can reserve invitations for you as per your actual requirements. Please respond to us accordingly. Meanwhile, we require more details about you particularly about your background, your organization, your employment details etc. This information is needed to update our database.
Looking forward to receive this information from you."
So, I replied with the information that I am an American management consultant working with municipalities here and that I require 3 passes for myself, my husband (boyfriend/fiance don't exactly exist here) and a friend visiting from the States. I was told they would reserve invitations for me and that I should go pick them up from the tourism office.
Yesterday, I headed to the tourism office with my confirmation email and waited in line for about 15 minutes. Then an officer shuffled through a pile of all the printed out emails he had received about the tickets until he found mine. He read it, checked it against mine, and a handwritten list he had and then gave me the tickets. A highly efficient system!
Not only was it humorous that the entire process had been moved from electronic communications to hand-written notes and print-outs, it was somewhat horrifying to realize that the government of A.P. was paying for me to go to the concert of a world-reknowned musician. In a country where almost all municipalities are bankrupt, public services are at a minimum, and corruption runs rampant, the government is spending it's money on entertaining the rich.
A couple days ago I saw an advertisement in the newspaper for a Ravi and Anoushka Shankar concert here in Hyderabad. There were no details about ticket purchases except an email address to write to for more information. I emailed requesting tickets and got the following reply:
"Dear Sir / Madam,
Thank you very much for your interest in attending the Concert of Pt. Ravishankar and Anoushka. For your information this is not a ticketed event and entry is by invitation only. We can reserve invitations for you as per your actual requirements. Please respond to us accordingly. Meanwhile, we require more details about you particularly about your background, your organization, your employment details etc. This information is needed to update our database.
Looking forward to receive this information from you."
So, I replied with the information that I am an American management consultant working with municipalities here and that I require 3 passes for myself, my husband (boyfriend/fiance don't exactly exist here) and a friend visiting from the States. I was told they would reserve invitations for me and that I should go pick them up from the tourism office.
Yesterday, I headed to the tourism office with my confirmation email and waited in line for about 15 minutes. Then an officer shuffled through a pile of all the printed out emails he had received about the tickets until he found mine. He read it, checked it against mine, and a handwritten list he had and then gave me the tickets. A highly efficient system!
Not only was it humorous that the entire process had been moved from electronic communications to hand-written notes and print-outs, it was somewhat horrifying to realize that the government of A.P. was paying for me to go to the concert of a world-reknowned musician. In a country where almost all municipalities are bankrupt, public services are at a minimum, and corruption runs rampant, the government is spending it's money on entertaining the rich.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Sari!
After 9 months in India and upon receiving one as a gift, I decided it was time to face my fears and conquer the art of wearing a sari. Umes insisted that he knew how to tie one and could help. So, we took out all 9 meters of fabric and started to wrap them around me. Our attempt left me forlorn and looking more like a potato sack than an elegant Indian woman:
However, upon enlisting our neighbor, I managed to get myself into one without looking too horribly disheveled. Would any respectable woman go out like this? No. But hey, it's a start.
However, upon enlisting our neighbor, I managed to get myself into one without looking too horribly disheveled. Would any respectable woman go out like this? No. But hey, it's a start.Thursday, October 16, 2008
The Pressure Cooker Incident
I’ve always been scared of pressure cookers. My mom has had one for years and raves about it. The idea of pressure and the horribly loud sound they make have always kept me far out of the kitchen when she’s using it. But, I moved to India. Here, daal and other beans are staples of the diet and they all come dried. Getting your hands on cooking fuel is no easy task and spending hours in a hot kitchen when temperatures are already in the 90s is not appealing. The solution: the pressure cooker. Quick and efficient, you can make a delicious daal in 15 minutes flat.
And so I reluctantly agreed to purchase a pressure cooker. After using it a few times with supervision and slowly learning not to jump every time it whistles, I decided to embark upon some pressure cooking on my own. I made daalma, also known as lentil soup. My vegetables, lentils, spices, and seasonings were in, I sealed up the cooker and lit the stove. After about 4-5 whistles, I figured my soup was done. That’s when it dawned on me. I had no idea how to open the pressure cooker. I’d never used it on my own before and had never taken the job of opening it upon myself. All I knew was that I should probably let out some pressure before opening it and that it would probably pop when I did open it.
I started by removing the little nob that jumps up when steam builds up inside. There was very loud hissing and a steady stream of daal broth going straight to the ceiling. I decided that covering the ceiling with broth was probably not the appropriate way to use the cooker and quickly replaced the nob. Then I let the cooker sit for a bit thinking it just needed to calm down a bit and then I could open it.
Being impatient, I only let it sit for about 5 minutes before deciding to try to open it again. It wasn’t easy. I had to put some serious muscle into getting the handle to turn. I was prepared for a bit of a pop when I finally got it open and was careful to stand back. I was not at all prepared for what happened next. When I finally got the lid turned to the open position, the entire thing exploded! The lid flew out of my hand and there was boiling hot daalma raining down on me. The pressure of the cooker was so strong that my entire kitchen, floor to ceiling, was covered in lentils, vegetables, and broth. Needless to say, I was shocked. It took me a minute to regain my composure and figure out if I was hurt. Luckily there were only some minor burns on my shoulders and back from flying potatoes. My wet hair had protected my head and somehow my face had managed to avoid any contact with hot soup.
After a few deep breaths and accepting the fact that dinner was ruined, I cleaned up my soupy kitchen. I got the floor, counters, and most of the walls clean. However, I must admit that there are still tomatoes and potatoes stuck to my kitchen ceiling. While the kitchen is a little worse off, there is no permanent damage to me or to it.
And yes, I did learn how to use the pressure cooker properly. That little nob gets gently lifted up with a spoon to let all the steam out without causing a fountain of broth. Once the steam is out, the lid opens easily and there are no explosions. I can happily report that I have successfully opened the pressure cooker on numerous occasions since that fateful day.
And so I reluctantly agreed to purchase a pressure cooker. After using it a few times with supervision and slowly learning not to jump every time it whistles, I decided to embark upon some pressure cooking on my own. I made daalma, also known as lentil soup. My vegetables, lentils, spices, and seasonings were in, I sealed up the cooker and lit the stove. After about 4-5 whistles, I figured my soup was done. That’s when it dawned on me. I had no idea how to open the pressure cooker. I’d never used it on my own before and had never taken the job of opening it upon myself. All I knew was that I should probably let out some pressure before opening it and that it would probably pop when I did open it.
I started by removing the little nob that jumps up when steam builds up inside. There was very loud hissing and a steady stream of daal broth going straight to the ceiling. I decided that covering the ceiling with broth was probably not the appropriate way to use the cooker and quickly replaced the nob. Then I let the cooker sit for a bit thinking it just needed to calm down a bit and then I could open it.
Being impatient, I only let it sit for about 5 minutes before deciding to try to open it again. It wasn’t easy. I had to put some serious muscle into getting the handle to turn. I was prepared for a bit of a pop when I finally got it open and was careful to stand back. I was not at all prepared for what happened next. When I finally got the lid turned to the open position, the entire thing exploded! The lid flew out of my hand and there was boiling hot daalma raining down on me. The pressure of the cooker was so strong that my entire kitchen, floor to ceiling, was covered in lentils, vegetables, and broth. Needless to say, I was shocked. It took me a minute to regain my composure and figure out if I was hurt. Luckily there were only some minor burns on my shoulders and back from flying potatoes. My wet hair had protected my head and somehow my face had managed to avoid any contact with hot soup.
After a few deep breaths and accepting the fact that dinner was ruined, I cleaned up my soupy kitchen. I got the floor, counters, and most of the walls clean. However, I must admit that there are still tomatoes and potatoes stuck to my kitchen ceiling. While the kitchen is a little worse off, there is no permanent damage to me or to it.
And yes, I did learn how to use the pressure cooker properly. That little nob gets gently lifted up with a spoon to let all the steam out without causing a fountain of broth. Once the steam is out, the lid opens easily and there are no explosions. I can happily report that I have successfully opened the pressure cooker on numerous occasions since that fateful day.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Control
I realized the other day why I was so emotionally unstable and frequently upset in India. I know now what is so hard about living there (for me, anyway). It’s the lack of control. This probably won’t surprise any of you who know me as quite the control freak and I’m sure you’re all quite thrilled to hear that I am (slowly and reluctantly) learning how to cede control. Here are a few examples of the ways I’ve been frustrated with my lack of control:
-Transportation: I don’t have my own car, bike, or scooter here, so anywhere beyond walking distance, I am dependent upon finicky rickshaw drivers. Trying to negotiate a fair price, the correct route, and safe driving is not always easy considering they see me as a giant dollar sign and there is often a significant language barrier. Giving up the freedom and control of going where I want, when I want, has been a struggle.
-Language: In addition to trying to negotiate with rickshaw drivers, I need to go shopping, make negotiations, work, and generally communicate with the world around me. This becomes very difficult with I don’t speak Hindi or Telegu, and many people don’t speak English. I no longer have the power of conversation, which leads to a significant loss of control in communication.
-Appearance: I get a lot of attention in Hyderabad based on the way I look. Stares, cat-calls, and lewd comments are part of my daily life every time I leave the house. At first, I thought that this was perhaps based on the way I was dressed. I dress conservatively by American standards, but my propensity to show my ankles and upper arms is quite scandalous in India. So, I started covering up and dressing in traditional Indian attire. Unfortunately, this hasn’t changed anything. It doesn’t matter what I wear, I get the same lewd comments and inappropriate stares all the time. Unlike in America, where I blend in, I can’t control the way people see me in India. I am a white girl. Therefore I am rich and slutty in the eyes of many Indians. No matter how much I try to blend in, I can’t control the stereotype.
-Daily Hassles: I recently bought a new water filter which needed to be delivered and installed to my home. When I asked when it would be delivered and installed, I was told “tomorrow.” So, I took the day off and waited at home all day. When I called to enquire about a delivery time I was told “in about an hour” or “first thing tomorrow”. This went on for five days. My attempts at yelling at people on the phone or going to the store where I bought it were completely fruitless. It didn’t matter. They would get to it, when they got to it. In my utter frustration I complained to a friend “what is wrong with these people, do they think I have nothing better to do than sit around all day and wait for a delivery?” Their response: “Well, in India, people who have the money for appliances also have large extended families living with them. There is always someone home who could deal with the installation, so, a weeklong wait isn’t a big deal.” I can’t control the fact that I have to take a week off of work to accomplish something by myself that a large Indian family would jointly share responsibility for. Moreover, most installation technicians are not educated enough to speak English. So trying to understand how something works or what they need to install it properly is quite difficult. Again, the control of communication is lost.
So, as you can see, I’m struggling a bit with my loss of control in India. However, it’s definitely good for my control-freak self to learn how to handle losing control. I’m also on vacation in Bali at the moment, so I don’t really have much room for complaint :)
Friday, May 16, 2008
My Pale White Skin
Living in India, I am obviously a minority. Moreover, my blonde hair, blue eyes, incredibly pale skin and refusal to wear the shalwar kamiz at all times exaggerates the effects of being “European”. This has some incredibly interesting effects both positive and negative.
Let’s start with the negative. Sometimes, I wear knee-length skirts. It is over 100 degrees everyday and I’ve never felt the need to maintain my calves’ privacy. This pretty much indicates that I am worse than a prostitute. I expose my legs! Moreover, pale skin is highly coveted here, so my vagrant display of pale white legs is lewd indeed. Needless to say, I am stared at pretty constantly. However, because I am pale and blonde, I’m stared at even when I’m covered up from head to toe in a shalwar. I figure I may as well give them something to stare at and wear what I’m most comfortable in.
Ok, lets move on to the positive. In spite of the fact that I’m seen as a slutty American, I can pretty much go anywhere I want and have access to the highest officials within a matter of minutes. My pale skin gives me status. Anytime I’ve gone to a foundation or business with or without an appointment, I’ve always seen the manager, CEO, etc. I get to go straight to the top simply because of the color of my skin. Do I deserve this treatment? No, certainly not. But, as an American, I get instant respect that certainly helps get things done.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Things I miss about the U.S.
Walking down the street completely unnoticed. Anonymity.
Central Airconditioning.
Getting in my own car and driving myself wherever I want to go.
Traffic Rules.
Sidewalks and Crosswalks.
Knowing where and how to buy anything I want.
Understanding overheard conversations.
Listening and engaging in conversation without conscious effort.
Tank Tops.
Privacy.
Silence.
Fresh Air.
Rinsing my toothbrush with running water.
Bad tv shows I'm too embarassed to admit I love.
Central Airconditioning.
Getting in my own car and driving myself wherever I want to go.
Traffic Rules.
Sidewalks and Crosswalks.
Knowing where and how to buy anything I want.
Understanding overheard conversations.
Listening and engaging in conversation without conscious effort.
Tank Tops.
Privacy.
Silence.
Fresh Air.
Rinsing my toothbrush with running water.
Bad tv shows I'm too embarassed to admit I love.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Why Does Democracy Work?
Today at lunch my Indian colleague, an urban planner, asked me how I like the roads here in India. I told him they were terrible and I didn’t understand why there were no rules and nobody followed the ones that did exist. “Because the penalties are very low here for breaking the rules; I think in the U.S. you have very high fines.” I responded that yes, the high fines were definitely a deterrent, so why doesn’t India just raise its traffic violation fines? That way we won’t be risking our lives every time we cross the street to go to lunch. He told me that traffic violation fines can’t be raised because India is a Democracy and the people will protest and the official who raised the fines will be voted out of office. Really? Raising the fines for people breaking the law will cause someone to lose an election?
Surprisingly, this is not the first time I’ve heard this argument made here. I am currently working with a water board whose mission is to become financially self-sufficient. While it seems like common sense to me that a government agency should aim to recover its costs, this is a huge change for them. While the agency is technically bankrupt, they have always relied on Delhi to bail them out. Now, in their goal to become self-sufficient, they need to reduce inefficiencies and revisit their tariff structure. Having done the analysis, our recommendation to them is that they must raise the water tariff. They simply cannot support the cost of cleaning and providing the water without a tariff increase. But no, raising the tariff is not an option. “If we try to raise the tariff, the politicians will replace the district commissioner. People won’t stand for higher water rates.”
Ok, so yes, tax hikes aren’t popular. We know that. However, in the U.S. there doesn’t seem to be THAT big of a link between who we vote for and independent municipal agencies. Also, we seem to understand that penalties have to be sufficiently high to have order on the roads and that someone has to pay for the cost of the water we use. We don’t often protest and throw people out of office for implementing effective and necessary cost-recovery measures. Or do we? Am I just completely oblivious to local politics? Have you ever voted against someone for balancing the budget? While you may not like getting a $400 speeding ticket, do you recognize that you earned it? Do you ever think about that ticket when you enter the voting booth?
Why is it that Americans seem to accept these costs of living in society while Indians don’t? How do you decide who to vote for, or rather, who to vote against? While we could argue for days about the recent effectiveness of U.S. Democracy, there is no doubt that it is more effective than Indian Democracy. Why? What is it about our culture and democratic process that makes it work?
Please leave comments or email me about your ideas… getting people to change their thinking and action about these types of issues is the only way we will ever be able to increase the quality of life in this country.
Surprisingly, this is not the first time I’ve heard this argument made here. I am currently working with a water board whose mission is to become financially self-sufficient. While it seems like common sense to me that a government agency should aim to recover its costs, this is a huge change for them. While the agency is technically bankrupt, they have always relied on Delhi to bail them out. Now, in their goal to become self-sufficient, they need to reduce inefficiencies and revisit their tariff structure. Having done the analysis, our recommendation to them is that they must raise the water tariff. They simply cannot support the cost of cleaning and providing the water without a tariff increase. But no, raising the tariff is not an option. “If we try to raise the tariff, the politicians will replace the district commissioner. People won’t stand for higher water rates.”
Ok, so yes, tax hikes aren’t popular. We know that. However, in the U.S. there doesn’t seem to be THAT big of a link between who we vote for and independent municipal agencies. Also, we seem to understand that penalties have to be sufficiently high to have order on the roads and that someone has to pay for the cost of the water we use. We don’t often protest and throw people out of office for implementing effective and necessary cost-recovery measures. Or do we? Am I just completely oblivious to local politics? Have you ever voted against someone for balancing the budget? While you may not like getting a $400 speeding ticket, do you recognize that you earned it? Do you ever think about that ticket when you enter the voting booth?
Why is it that Americans seem to accept these costs of living in society while Indians don’t? How do you decide who to vote for, or rather, who to vote against? While we could argue for days about the recent effectiveness of U.S. Democracy, there is no doubt that it is more effective than Indian Democracy. Why? What is it about our culture and democratic process that makes it work?
Please leave comments or email me about your ideas… getting people to change their thinking and action about these types of issues is the only way we will ever be able to increase the quality of life in this country.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Last Day of Gainful Employment
Today is officially my last day of work at the consulting firm I've been with for the past 3 years. It doesn't feel real that I won't be back on Monday and I don't think it will feel like more than a vacation until I'm settled into my new job in India. Besides finishing up an actual consulting project this week, I have written memos, organized data, and made a lot of powerpoint template slides. What I've realized while doing this is that I actually have learned a lot in my time here and have made valuable contributions. My intellectual capital can basically be captured in a 60 page powerpoint presentation, a 5 page memo, and some very well organized databases. That may seem like a depressing realization, but its not. Considering I knew nothing about the industry in which I've worked and couldn't use powerpoint, excel, or access when I started, I think its quite an accomplishment! I only hope that my successors will be able to benefit from the materials I've left behind for them.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Paperwork
While I have yet to finalize my plans regarding where I'm going and when, I am in the midst of cleaning house on my current life (both literally and figuratively). What this means is that I am dealing with lots and lots of paperwork. Dealing withmy health insurance COBRA, car insurance, mail forwarding, getting security deposits, tax refunds, 401k rollover, visa applications, etc. is completely overwhelming!
I remember being a kid and not understanding how grown ups dealt with life. How do you open a bank account? How do you know how to register a car? What do you do to enroll in health insurance? The fact that my parents (and every other grown-up) seemed to just know how to do these things was a source of total bewilderment for me. My mother explained that its complicated, but you just filled out the paperwork, made some phone calls and followed up on things. Well, that was an understatement. While I was amazed by the ability of grown-ups to deal with life as a kid, I'm more amazed by it as an adult! Clearing fraud from my bank account, applying for more pages in my passport, finding housing abroad and planning side trips with friends are not easy things to accomplish.
If they overwhelm me, a fairly intelligent and well-educated person with relatively simple life, how do other people deal with them? I can't imagine dealing with these logistics while also owning a home, raising kids, and being responsible for all their paperwork too. What is even more amazing is that all these things do seem to get done. In spite of the frustration, incompetence, and ignorance I have felt, I've managed to take care of the paperwork in my life. Maybe by the time I get to home ownership and children I'll be an expert on paperwork and it will be a snap.
As a side note, I recently had my passport returned to me after requesting additional pages. I opened my passport to find new pages TAPED in. Yes, they took clear plastic tape and used it to stick in some new pages. I was shocked. How incredibly unofficial and slightly embarassing. "Yes immigration officer, this is my official document stating who I am and granting me entry into the country, please don't mind the fact that it's taped together."
I remember being a kid and not understanding how grown ups dealt with life. How do you open a bank account? How do you know how to register a car? What do you do to enroll in health insurance? The fact that my parents (and every other grown-up) seemed to just know how to do these things was a source of total bewilderment for me. My mother explained that its complicated, but you just filled out the paperwork, made some phone calls and followed up on things. Well, that was an understatement. While I was amazed by the ability of grown-ups to deal with life as a kid, I'm more amazed by it as an adult! Clearing fraud from my bank account, applying for more pages in my passport, finding housing abroad and planning side trips with friends are not easy things to accomplish.
If they overwhelm me, a fairly intelligent and well-educated person with relatively simple life, how do other people deal with them? I can't imagine dealing with these logistics while also owning a home, raising kids, and being responsible for all their paperwork too. What is even more amazing is that all these things do seem to get done. In spite of the frustration, incompetence, and ignorance I have felt, I've managed to take care of the paperwork in my life. Maybe by the time I get to home ownership and children I'll be an expert on paperwork and it will be a snap.
As a side note, I recently had my passport returned to me after requesting additional pages. I opened my passport to find new pages TAPED in. Yes, they took clear plastic tape and used it to stick in some new pages. I was shocked. How incredibly unofficial and slightly embarassing. "Yes immigration officer, this is my official document stating who I am and granting me entry into the country, please don't mind the fact that it's taped together."
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
One
Ok, lets start by clearing something up. I am the first to admit that my blog name seems to be a bit, well, x-rated. However, let me assure you that nothing will appear here which would require a separate room of your local video store. In fact, it is probably safe to say that all blog entries will be strictly rated PG (PG-13 at the most, I'm sure). Why the slightly risque name? Perfectly Sinful was the name of my first horse. (Actually it was Perfectly Cinful, spelled with a C for her lineage, but I decided that was stupid and changed it). Acquiring, owning, and selling Perfectly Sinful (whom I called Lyra) taught me about perserverence, hard work, love, heartbreak, bravery, tears, laughter, adventure, and joy. In short, she taught me almost everything of importance that I know.
It is because of these lessons that I am doing something which simultaneously terrifies and thrills me. I have quit my cushy desk job, eschewed business school, packed my bags and am heading overseas for an undetermined length of time. I plan on exploring the world while trying to make some small difference volunteering with various NGO's. I know that the lessons Lyra taught me will come in handy and will be retaught and reinforced. Since I am incapable of keeping a journal for myself and want to document my adventure, this blog will serve jointly as my communication device with friends and family and as a virtual scrapbook.
A good scrapbook is made up of lots of fanstastic pictures, so let me conclude this post with one of my favorite pictures from a recent trip to India:
It is because of these lessons that I am doing something which simultaneously terrifies and thrills me. I have quit my cushy desk job, eschewed business school, packed my bags and am heading overseas for an undetermined length of time. I plan on exploring the world while trying to make some small difference volunteering with various NGO's. I know that the lessons Lyra taught me will come in handy and will be retaught and reinforced. Since I am incapable of keeping a journal for myself and want to document my adventure, this blog will serve jointly as my communication device with friends and family and as a virtual scrapbook.
A good scrapbook is made up of lots of fanstastic pictures, so let me conclude this post with one of my favorite pictures from a recent trip to India:
Elephants on Parade!
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