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Tuesday, January 06, 2009 bigot 6:39 PM i usually enjoy stays in india, but this time i just wanted to leave. i think it was ironic that i begun reading shantaram on the way there. i started chapter 1 as the plane was taking off, with a smug attitude, that oh i've been there many times, i understand and appreciate the country but i'm still distant enough (being in singapore) not to be sucked into the system so i'm technically a foreigner but nor am i a native but i'm still culturally aware and somewhat experienced at the ways of india, giggling to myself at the foreigner perspective of certain expressions about india i take for granted as i started the 930 page book. so there was i was, comfortable as i could be on a budget tiny seat, nestled with a massive book full of words about india, when the woman next to me asks me in as much english as she knows to fill up her immigration card for her. my first thought was, why can't she ask her husband who was right next to her? then i realised, that i'll always be a foreigner. i'll always impose my standards on india, that i'll never be able to surrender into the atmosphere like the protagonist in shantaram. but nor will i completely be able to be a tourist and impose my own occidental preconceived notions of what i think exotic india should be like. after that humble request from a woman who never had the chance for an english education, who probably wouldn't have a chance in the future to read a book about her own country written by a foreigner, i started seeing things from not an indian perspective. which was completely destabilising. it began to irritate me that no one listened to one another. everyone had their opinions, and everyone's opinions were right. each individual is a politician, a doctor, whatever they decided they were an expert on. decisions took forever to make, and at the end nobody followed them. it annoyed me that talking to people was pointless cos nobody listened to anyone's voice but their own. i just shut up when my mother begun voicing my likes and dislikes and thoughts and decisions, as if she knew them all. the obvious manifestation of religiosity got on my nerves - a temple in every street corner and a prayer on every auto suddenly seemed overbearing. i judged people skipping work to go on pilgrimages. it went against every bit of the singaporean in me. the patriarchy pissed me off. but i shall not start =) the country is confused. it's as if its fighting to give itself an identity that results in a conflicting mess of ideals. it's stuck, culturally. it's as if there is an attempt to reclaim a certain 'indianness' (which is, of course, arguable) while embracing a capitalist, american identity. malls are springing up in unlikely places, and the contrast with the mall's surroundings is just painful. the malls also boast a permanent soundtrack of hit me baby one more time, i want it that way, and the vengaboys. it's a hip and cool place for youth (anyone who can squeeze into a pair of bell bottoms) to hang out and take pictures while wearing new clothes and sightadichify (according to my mother) and eat hot dogs and other various types of fast food. these youth wear 'western' clothes - too big checkered shirts and very flared bell bottoms, shades and a cocky swagger and too clean platform sport shoes - because that's kool. it disturbs me. it's the look of too many years ago. at the same time, there are these beautiful contemporary designs for clothes, which are a delightful mix of old and new, tradition and fashion. it's another kind of identity that has been manufactured - but this identity is for export, not for local use. funny. so there's an exported identity of india to the west, and there's an imported identity into india, of the west. they don't coincide. i don't think i could live there for an extended period of time. i need to drink water from the tap. (: 0 comments |