In the Beginning

Sometimes it is good to remember your beginnings. It is fun to look back in time and remember the emotions, the passion, the excitement knowing you have just made a huge change in your life. I wrote this short (very short) story a few years ago about the beginning of my two-year staff commitment here. (Actually it is somewhat of a "first chapter" to a book I have been wanting to write about my crazy Indian life. But that's another passion for another day). Anyway, we all know my two-year commitment here turned into three years. Now my commitment to this Biblical Studies course is coming to a close and for that I am again full of emotions, excitement, and yes, even passion. Ending something is always emotional; I am excited for what the future holds and for soon coming back to the U.S. with my beloved husband; I am full of a newfound passion to study the Bible at my own pace and in my own home for no other purpose but to study the Bible. No more stressing out about teachings, staff meetings or small groups. 

Sometimes it is good to remember your beginnings.

        The precise moment my foot hit the ground outside just past the glass doors, I felt the heat.  It was like someone immediately threw a bucket of hot pudding at my face and it quickly dripped down, covering my whole body in one moment.  Inevitably, my glasses became instantly fogged and I could not see a thing.  I worried I wouldn’t be able to see him, so I took my specs off, but immediately realized the reason I wore them in the first place.  Glasses on or off, I could not see a thing.  There were literally hundreds of Indians lined up in front of me shouting and calling out names.  I thought that I would never find the one Indian man I was looking for.  Before those thoughts could fully complete themselves, and after I had only taken a handful of steps out of the Mumbai airport, I heard that very familiar voice call my name.  A wonderful voice that I sometimes think was made only for the purpose of saying my name.  I heard the voice for the first time in months, yet recognized it the moment I heard it.  He was a little behind me, and as I turned around I saw him and an electric current of pure joy ran through my body, beginning its journey from my heart.

        He was even more handsome than I remembered, standing there in the sticky heat wearing all black with a brown scarf.  His favorite fashion faux-pax is wearing black with brown.  I haven’t had the heart to tell him how much of a fashion criminal he was sometimes.  Occasionally, he will even wear socks with sandals, but that is a different story set aside for a different time.  His hair was much shorter than I had ever seen it, and I loved it that way!  He is about one centimeter shorter than me, but it bothers neither of us and we rarely notice it.  The good thing about dating someone who is approximately the same size as you is that his clothes fit you perfectly. Even our feet are the same size.  Although, you cannot really say we ever dated.  They don’t date in India.  They basically go from strangers to husband and wife.  One thing in this life I will never fully understand is arranged marriages.

        Back to the story: as soon as he called my name and our eyes met, we ran to each other (I did most of the running).  We embraced in a quick yet genuine and much needed hug.  At that exact moment, all the feelings I had ignored for the past five months came flooding back into my head and my heart.  I did not think it would be this good to see him again.  I had somehow convinced myself that I did not love him anymore when I was at home, and I had been quite relieved to hear that I would only have to see him for one day after I arrived back in India before he would go down to Mysore for nine months.

        The past year-and-a-half played through my mind at lightening speed, and I suddenly caught myself standing next to a man I was very much in love with.  I kept telling him how good it was to see him again after so long.  It took everything in me to hold me back from kissing him all over his face.  Fortunately, we were in a country where PDA is not at all acceptable.  Growing up in America with five brothers and a reluctance to touch anyone, I had developed a sort of illness which would come only when seeing couples in public holding hands, kissing, or canoodling.  I hate PDA with a mighty passion, and had loved living in India because it is such taboo for anyone to publicly display their affection for all to see.

        We made our way to where the taxi would pick us up, and it seemed almost like I was in a dream.  Was it really this hot?  Was I really back in India?  Was I really standing next to him?  Was I really committing the next two years of my life to this place?  Little did I know that a lot more than two years was in store for me.

Weddings are annoying around here.

Last night until almost midnight there was super loud, bass thumping, Bollywood dance music blasting through my windows into my house and into my very soul. There's a wedding going on about a block away from my house and the music was still that loud in my home. Try to fall asleep with that going on, not to mention it is fighting for loudest annoyance with barking/howling street dogs, the neighbor children playing and laughing in Marathi, honking horns, rickshaw motors, and a passing train about every hour. This is how I fall asleep most nights. It is far too hot to close my windows to shut out the noise, so I turn the fan up to "2" sometimes "3" if I'm really annoyed and then, if it's even louder than the fan (which last night it was) I put in the ear plugs. This wedding music does not happen every night, but it is wedding season right now and I think yesterday was a particularly auspicious day for weddings. In India they set their weddings for auspicious dates, typically consulting a guru or some holy man to choose a date with good luck or favor. They are very superstitious. People get married on Tuesdays, Thursdays, Sundays, any day that is auspicious.

I take approximately three showers per day. I get sweaty just sitting still. When there's no power everyone just about dies because then the fans cannot spin and we sit in hot, thick air. There is no such thing as central air in India and if you actually own AC in your home anywhere you are incredibly wealthy. So, I am delighted to take cold showers at least thrice a day. Once when I wake up, once after lunch, once more before dinner if guests are coming over, and sometimes I even take one before bed if I'm particularly sweaty. I look for excuses to run home and hop in the shower. It's amazing how quickly your sticky gross feeling goes away after a little soap and water. I just love taking showers here and look for any reason to squeeze one in!

When I was home for Christmas for 2 months however, I looked for any excuse to avoid a shower! I never felt dirty, sweaty, or hot so why take a shower, right? I had to join a gym so that I would sweat for a long time each day so that my brain would think it necessary to take a shower. Don't judge me for this. I just thought showering in Minnesota during the frigid winter was unnecessary. Your skin is barely exposed to outside air to get dirty, everything is so dry, and showering wastes time.

This Saturday I am going to Mumbai as a tourist for sight-seeing and shopping! You might think, "big deal, this girl lives 2.5 hours from Mumbai, she goes there all the time." But you would be wrong in thinking that. I have NEVER been to Mumbai. I repeat, I have never set foot in Mumbai aside from the International airport, the parking lot of the International airport, and a taxi that drives through the streets of Mumbai only to leave it far behind and bring me to my home 2.5 hours away. I have never walked around Mumbai or explored Mumbai. I have never had the energy or desire to go because quite honestly: Mumbai scares the crap out of me. It's HUGE, it's LOUD, it's full of incredibly poor people who only break my heart, it's SCARY, and it is the home of....Bollywood.

Don't get me wrong. I love me some Bollywood films! They're hilarious, funny, humorous, cheesy, cliché, corny, and some are just downright stupid. Mostly the types of movies I enjoy! They are so ridiculous they're awesome. BUT they are so influenced by the "West" and the people of Mumbai/bollywood culture who I have experienced are arrogant, too-cool-for-school, narcissists. Just being honest about the way they portray themselves. The funny thing is that the "West" they are influenced by fashion-wise and attitude-wise is the West of the 1990s. At least your average person's fashion, not the real, high fashion of India that's where it gets awesome.

All in all, I am filled with nervous excitement as I anticipate my upcoming day-trip to Mumbai. At least we have confirmed seats on the trains, and really, it's the travelling there that stresses me out more than actually being there.

I often forget that I get so offended and frustrated when people here assume things of me because I am from "America" and am white, yet I so often do the exact same thing to them. I think I justify myself by thinking that I am actually in their culture, in their country, so I know how it really is and therefore it's okay to stereotype because I actually know them. They've never been to the United States and have only seen Hollywood movies to show them what America is like which is not at all what America is like. What sort of Christian am I when I do this? I get so upset with their assumptions yet I think I judge them even more. I am trying to figure out how this can change, but ultimately I need a change of heart and attitude which is something I cannot do on my own. Don't you just love that we are incapable of doing anything on our own and must continuously rely on God to do all in us we wish to accomplish? It is quite a humbling life that we live, and if I am not humbled by it, something is wrong.