Too Indian?

My...cultural assimilation became all too clear when I met up with Kapil in Hyderabad. As an American in India for almost a year, compared with an Indian who'd spent five or so years in the US it was quite interesting.

I had picked up Indian things, and he had definitely become American. Now, I'm pretty accustomed to the fact that at any given moment here I'm gonna be dripping with sweat, and pretty much given up on trying to look decent. Not gonna happen. I mean, already when I put on sunscreen that makes me look oily and greasy; so already not a good start. So I have to say that the fact that Kapil, who had grown up for 20 years of his life here, was even sweatier than I was, well I must admit I felt a little better, ha.

Again when Kapil was here we realized our exchange in cultures when we went shopping.
He wanted to buy bangles to take back to friends in the US. The banglewala wanted Rs. 250 for a stack of not-so-amazing bangles. Kapil was ready to buy it, but I shot back Rs. 100. I pulled Kapil away from the table to walk away when the wala said no which is the first thing to do when they won't bargain with you. IF they really want to sell, they will start negotiating, as this guy did. After haggling over several other bangle sets and getting a better price, we moved on. From then on, whatever Kapil wanted to purchase, he made me bargain for it. Maybe it's because Kapil is thinking in Dollars and I in Rupees which does make a difference. It's easy to get caught up in arguing over Rs. 5 with an autorickshaw walla, and later on you realize you just argued over ten cents.

So this to me shows how much Kapil had been Americanized. Now I'm just being honest here, but India has litter everywhere. There are simply no trashbins all over the place as in the US, and so people just throw trash anywhere. Now in my Indianization, I admit that yes I sometimes do litter, most of the time though I hold my trash until I find a bin, and if I really have no hope of finding one, it is hard to let that trash slip out of my hand to the ground. Those of you in the US, try it sometime, and see how guilty you feel! However this day I had a piece of gum, and there was just no trashcans, so as Kapil and I were standing there I spit it in the gutter. Now, it wasn't out where people were likely to step on it or anything. But Kapil was aghast and couldn't believe I just spit my gum on the street. All I could say was, "Man, you've been away from India too long! There is cow and dog crap and trash all over the place and no trash cans in sight!"

Finally my last example from my trip to Hyderabad. I needed to buy a train ticket back to Ahmedabad, and there were only emergency 'tatkal' tickets left. Now they save a few tickets per train for last minute bookings and they are open for sale only two days before the train leaves. Trains in India fill up fast, like almost a month before, so I had to get one of these emergency tickets. We got to the station a little after 8 am when it opened and already there was a long line at the window of about 30 people. Actually I would have gone directly to the back of the line (which I guess proves I am not completely Indian yet) However, Kapil told me just go to the front, you are a woman and foreign, just go. Now, I went because normally there is a separate line for foreigners, seniors, etc. so it did seem like a valid point. Since I made my mind up to do it, I had to do it with conviction or it wouldn't happen. So in true Indian-fashion I busted up in a line of 30 men standing there to the very front of the line, and this is the thing, no one ever complains when you do this. At least not that I've ever seen. To get my ticket form accepted I had to push my hand inside the window with the form, in front of the next person. What should have taken an hour or so, took maybe 15 minutes. Again Kapil was impressed with my busting-through-lines Indianess.

The pharmacist next to my flat even told me I was becoming Indian the other day. I needed some more liquid hand soap and so pointed to a bottle before realizing there was a refill pouch. Since I already have a pump bottle, I asked for the pouch instead. The pharmacist said, "You're saving money just like an Indian!"

However, Haider has not been completely pleased by these Indian traits I've picked up. The other day we had gone to dinner with a few other Americans. I, as most of the rest of the group had ordered dosas. Now a dosa is kind of like a thin, crispy pancake, folded over and stuffed with potato. You have to use your hand to break off a piece and dip it in chutney. After dinner, Haider politely and tactfully pointed out to me (as he always does) that while the other Americans ate their food with their hands keeping their fingers clean, my fingers were completely covered in potatoes and dosa by the end. He also reminds me that while very loud, open-mouthed without hand-covered belching is perfectly acceptable in Indian culture for both men and women (Once an old lady on a plane sitting next to me belched loudly every few minutes. I don't know what the hell she'd eaten), in his culture and mine (I confirmed) it is not.

Random pics for your viewing enjoyment:
Some bangles
Meeting eating a big Papad (fried cracker thing)
Hyderabadi Pearls I bought