Adventures in Hindustan

Another week has flown by in the life of yours truly. And I’m very excited to report that in that time I saw my first desert dust storm. It began with the very unusual presence of dark clouds—actually any clouds—in the sky. They loomed over us for a while. The sky turned a strange yellowish color and the temperature dropped appreciatively to the 80’s. Then an hour or so later just as we were about to leave to go out to dinner the power went out and the wind swept in. Walking out on to the street, we could see that we could see nothing and an outing was out of the question. The street lights were out, and the air was thick with a swirling dust so dark it seemed like smoke. The sounds, however, filled the absence. The crashing of metal ware and other objects falling, children screaming or laughing, and the bustle of bodies in the whistling wind filled the darkened the air. We were forced to retreat back inside and secure the windows.
As we waited it out in flickering candle light, continued crashing came from our kitchen and echoed from the houses around us. By the time the dust had diminished it was positively chilly outside and it had begun to rain. And then it poured rain for the first time in three months.
Sadly, I hadn’t seen the giant wall of dust rolling in because we are surrounded by buildings. However, from other people’s accounts that was exactly how it was, pulled directly off the screen of Grapes of Wrath or Hidalgo. They call these sudden evening dust storms andi around here and apparently they are fairly common for the next month. They actually happen less often than in the past because agriculture is greening the desert and changing the ecosystem. Still, every few days the evening clouds roll in and you know to get where you are going pretty quick. It’s especially intimidating because, as we understand it, the city actually turns off the power during these storms so as to prevent fallen wires—having broken loose from their poorly secured binds above--from producing shocking accidents. Walking about India at night is scary enough. Walking about with no power and no visibility and the electric excitement of a storm in the air is positively terrifying.

It has also been a rather educational week regarding middle class Indian life. Vaneja and a few of our other new friends have begun to tell us about the many scandals that are constantly happening around them. Some of these scandals would have been nothing to us: a boy and girl spotted sitting together in a coffee shop. While others would prove equally problematic for us: the married boss having an affair with his much younger associate. In our comparative discussions, I’m often shocked to find that Vaneja, and virtually everyone else, has the impression that in America all these behaviors were quite normal. She understood that perhaps 90% of Americans had divorced and then remarried. When she told us about the scandal involving this married man, she laughed and said she supposed affairs were quite normal in the US. We told her that, really, affairs were still quite frowned upon and scandalous in our country. Boys and girls can hold hands as much as they want, but wedding vows still mean something.
Another annoying mis-impression most Indians seem to have about American culture is that family is of no value. Having heard that extended families rarely live together, they seem to have extended this to understand that we don’t care about family at all. Since my family is perhaps one of the most important things in my life, I often feel compelled object to this misinterpretation. But even after explaining that in fact I very much love, respect, and value my family, most Indians seem entirely unconvinced that my obligation is even remotely close their own.
Its fascinating to realize that certain differences are so great between these cultures that I could never understand the Indian point of view: a particular rajput tradition requires that the bride must always carry her shoes on her head in the presence of her mother-in-law. While other aspects of life are really the same: attempting to maintain professional behavior in the workplace when personal relationships exist.
Miss you all and hope your school year is coming to a satisfying close.
PS. It’s a continuing debate because Indians use the phrase all the time. What is your ‘good name’? Is it your first name, your whole name, or your Christian name?