When The Going Gets Tough
August 2nd, 2007 | Published in dispatch | 15 Comments
The train gets going, without you in that Second Tier AC berth you finally shelled out good money for.
I guess I’m not meant to go to Nepal. I’m going to Bangalore instead.
I’ve always had a problem with time: I have no sense of it. I’m the sort of person who leaves home for an important 8.30am presentation at 8.20am. You can do that if you’re commuting Clementi to City Hall, but Kandivali to Kurla? With a train to catch at 10:55pm in bloody out of the way Kurla, starting at 8.45pm in the crazy Mumbai monsoon and its semi-flooded potholed roads was apparently not good enough, I must have been mad. And I was, because the train left without me. 53 kilometres and 1200 rupees back to Malad, and I’d spent an enormous sum just travelling to Kurla and back and missing my train.
For the first time an Indian train left on time, and I was late. It’s usually the other way around.
Everything that can possibly go wrong has.
Language is power, it really is. All too many times I have seen the transformation of those people in just a few seconds, from being regular and decent in one instance (this is when they speak Hindi to me because they think I’m Nepali/Northeast Indian), to lascivious and disgusting in the next — the moment my ineptitude at Hindi gives away my foreign-ness. One kiss, they say, Give me one kiss. Then they reach for you to try to feel you up. Why don’t I fight, and why am I resigned? I’m a fighter and a feminist from the cradle, but I lost my ability to fight in this country. I would go mad — I would be fighting everyday. I have already programmed myself to be oblivious to and to ignore the verbal harassing and the mental undressing, which takes place with such intensity and frequency there’s even a name for it — eve-teasing, because I don’t understand much of the language and the verbal abuse, I don’t live in this country so I won’t walk down that road ever again, and thus I lose nothing tangible. But in moments like these, like yesterday, and the week before, and the week before that, what would I shout, and who would help me? What can I possibly do but to first get myself out of danger as quickly as possible? It’s all too easy to say: shout, stand up for yourself, hit him, take down his details… defend yourself. I used to be that way too until I found myself in the position of the victim rather than the observer.
I fight all the time and I’m frankly not sure I have enough energy to fight some more. I invent lies to protect myself. I don’t have a boyfriend or a husband — obviously — but I need to act as if I have one. That protects me a little, but only slightly. So I pick and choose details of my ex-es and mix and match them into fully formed fictitious characters with aspects of my past loves. My “husband” is a Bengali doctor, then there are also the various Tamil and Portuguese Goan “boys” who are “27, 28 and 26″ respectively. We have been married “five years”, we got married in Kolkata when I was 17. When I travel alone in trains I find that when I keep to myself, it is assumed I am Assamese or Khasi so nobody bothers me. I dress conservatively in a salwar kameez and with a dupatta, so you can’t say I was looking for it. Then there’s the colour of my skin, which I can’t change.
The “last week in India” is usually an emotionally charged affair; all four times in the past they’ve seen breakups happening with as many different people. This time, though, things are a bit different. It’s not quite that, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m walking around this city, Bombay, treading around the pieces of my heart. I’m coming apart. I’m tired of fighting.
Times like these I wonder why I can’t just sit at home and watch Discovery Travel and Living.
So I will see you in Bangkok in ten days and do exactly that.
August 2nd, 2007 at 10:34 pm (#)
This is why I am the one sitting infront of the screen and u’re out there living it. Chin up babe. You’re got all sides of the story covered!
August 3rd, 2007 at 1:29 am (#)
I’m so sorry to hear about all this, dear. Isn’t it amazing how much more time you need to do anything in India? As for the harassment, I think I’ve already mentioned my experiences in a comment somewhere, but I just wanted to say that I know how you feel and how tiring it can be. My question is always, “why?” Why is it okay? Why does every Indian female I know have a frightening story about this? Why have I never had a single negative experience in Vietnam but feel constantly like you write about whenever I’m in India? When and how will this ever change?
August 3rd, 2007 at 5:52 am (#)
The frustration level in India can become insane……but at times is balanced by moments of calm and peace and wonder. Nepal would have been a respite. My daughter will be studying Tibetan culture in N. India, Tibet and Nepal this fall — and I’ve tried to prepare her for the way some Indian men hit mercilessly on foreign women. I first saw it firsthand on my honeymoon in Kerala (a favorite place)when my wife stepped out on her own. Too damn bad but “ke garne”. I think the marriage ruse is a good one. I always suggested “would you want your daughter/sister treated that way? Didn’t use to happen in Nepal in the same way.
We’ll be in Thailand (or maybe Burma) for Christmas……any suggestions on restful less developed islands in Thailand. I was in Phuket in ‘77 but I’m nervous that the development in general has changed the vibe to a hustle. Love your stuff…..sabu
August 3rd, 2007 at 10:13 pm (#)
Hi dear! I thought I made a pretty good PA the last time. Maybe, it’s time for you to hire me on a full-time contract. I’m sure I can continue working on my PhD while being your PA.
August 4th, 2007 at 3:52 am (#)
When are you coming back?
August 4th, 2007 at 11:49 pm (#)
yeah, when are you coming back?
i’ve got stuffs to tell you:D
important stuffs:D
August 6th, 2007 at 4:37 am (#)
Hey girl… HUGS.
i know how you feel… no matter how tough you can feel you are, sometmes, it just feels like you’re fighting for nothing… and that’s the worse feeling, to have your personal space violated by someone who doesn’t really give a f***’s ass how you feel.
HUGS.
hang in there ok? i love ya.
August 6th, 2007 at 12:57 pm (#)
Im urmila friend - give me a buzz when ya in town
August 6th, 2007 at 10:32 pm (#)
glad i’m of some use! When do u get back. tell yr parents i’ll pick up the computer sometime this week. Have been rather busy
August 7th, 2007 at 4:18 pm (#)
big hugs
August 7th, 2007 at 8:37 pm (#)
well i told u beat the crap out of that guy and luck had it that u dint miss the next train as well.
August 8th, 2007 at 8:00 am (#)
are the men in India really that bad? I’m 17 and i’ll be going to india for six months in a year or so. I’m expecting the difference between Seattle and Shillong to be great, but I’ve never heard of this. Do they think foreign women are easy or something?
August 8th, 2007 at 3:33 pm (#)
@anne well shillong you won’t have that problem — they’re a matriarchal society up in shillong and the khasi hills ;) nobody’s saying men in india are that bad, only that this is a real life problem that women, foreign and local, face. (Check out Blank Noise Project for instance)
August 10th, 2007 at 1:35 pm (#)
personally i enjoy cooking up fictitious beaus, cos that way they can be perfect. my life is sad, i know ;)
August 12th, 2007 at 5:27 am (#)
[...] It was a good thing after all that I missed my train. The devastating floods in the north intensified around the time I was due to get off the train to make the overland journey to Nepal, and the area I was supposed to get off in (Gorakhpur) was among the worst hit. The road I was going to take may even have been washed away. So I made my way southwards to Bangalore instead to see some friends, and to fly a budget airline from Bangalore to Bangkok. [...]