Settling

I haven't left campus in a few days and I'm starting to get a little bit of cabin fever.  It would be pretty easy to stay in Tagore House all the time; to take every meal here and hang out here after class.  Watch movies at night.  It's comfortable, comforting, and easy to fall into.  This is not the experience I'm looking for and it is on my mind constantly.  I am excited to have a settled schedule and be able to move about more, try new things.

Yesterday I spent all day agonizing over my living situation.  It was maybe the most interesting day I've had in a while, internally at least.  My first real experience with the knowledge that going abroad isn't a challenge just because of the culture clash.  Without family around, without the friends who know you best, making a big decision is scary beyond belief.  It was the first time here I realized how long four months could be, and how far away I really am from the places I've spent my whole life.

But it was also a wake-up call - I'm not here for any real reason.  I don't have a goal, there's nothing here that needs to be accomplished.  This is my semester to stick myself out there and try new things, and crafting a perfect experience is impossible because "perfect" implies that there can be something to compare it to. I will have no experience in India other than the one I am having.  It is already perfect because it is the only one there is, and to try to manipulate it into being better somehow makes no sense.

It's a thought I've been chewing over all day, similar to the behavior of the herd of cows I saw walking single file down the main road of campus last night.

Today I woke up again at 5:30 and was at yoga by six.  The idea of the certification is cool, but in practice I'm not that impressed with the experience.  However I did meet a nice guy by the name of Kiran who invited me to come act in the Telugu film he's making.  I went to Gay Indian Literature at 9, which is always an interesting experience.  The professor is apparently the first openly gay public figure in India, a place where homosexuality is not so much looked down upon as totally denied.  His name is Hoshang Merchant, and he looks like some guru who came down from the mountain - long white beard down to his chest, long white pony tail down his back, scholarly glasses, pale skin, deep brown eyes (he calls them his "Indian cow eyes").  But he has more flamboyent body language than anyone I've ever met, and I'm constantly floored by the fact that his very presence is a constant political statement that puts him in perpetual danger. He's written a bunch of books and poems about his sex life and life experiences, of which he shares some during class.  It's very different than any other class I've taken.  Rather than lecturing, he'll have someone read a short story, and then we'll write down answers to questions he's composed for the remaining hour.  Sometimes he'll ask us to hand our papers over to him, which is pretty nerve-wracking, but he's all around a nice guy despite the intimidation factor. 

I can also now officially write the words "jug," "python," and "sacrifice" in Hindi.  My feet are zebra-striped with tan lines, I never do my homework, and I'm considering switching out of my Indian philosophy class and taking Yoga Theory and Practice instead.  My bike is beginning to feel like an extension of my legs, I spend nearly all day in communication with other people - talking, taking notes, planning, processing.  I am making friends from Norway, Libya, Canada, Kerala, Andhra Pradesh, and Bengal.  I am terrified they won't progress.  I drank chai three times today and ate with my hands even when I didn't have to.  I am afraid to go out at night but maybe I shouldn't be.

Tomorrow I will try to focus on the stars as I ride to yoga.  There is so much to say about being here that it becomes a slew of nothing at all - I hope whoever reads this does not get frustrated by all these nouns and verbs slung together. 

All the international kids eat in the Tagore dining room during the fixed meal times, where upturned glasses are arranged in a circle around a pitcher of filtered water.  Tanvi, the cutest two year old ever, runs around and sticks her hands in our glasses and stand with her feet on our knees, asking to wear our jewelry.  We pull up extra chairs around tables and beg Krishna for more ice cream, less rice, more hot chocolate, black tea please.  After meals I eat anis seeds.

I unpacked today for the first time and began to tape Sarah's christmas cards up on the walls.  I'll be here for three and a half more months.  It's difficult to commit to this, but I'm learning, learning, learning.