Note.

A pair of blue underwear dying an entire load of laundry blue seemed completely irrelevant this week after I heard about my friends and former high school classmates Nicole Kelling and Jon Lacina.

For those of you who don't know, Nicole was a sarcastic and acutely perceptive person who died of a drug overdose January 20. They thought it was suicide, but eventually they ruled it out.

People have been writing things to her on her facebook wall. Her mom's post was so simple and honest--they've named a star after her.

Jon disappeared January 22. He was filed missing this morning. I got to be friends with him my senior year, and we still hang out every now and then when we are home for breaks.

I've never wanted to go home so badly. My god, I hope he's okay.

PHOTOS!!!

I uploaded a bunch of photos to my facebook account, if y'all would like to see more of my adventures.

If you can't access the photos, let me know. I'm still new to this blog gig.

India 1--Getting There

India 2--Campus and New Year's

India 3--Exploring the City

Reading Between the Movies.

I had a conversation with some new Indian friends recently about outsider’s impressions of other cultures through the media, particularly film.

As a Theatre Arts major, I know full well how important stereotypes and archetypes are to fulfill a character. Types exist to convey in immediate story without having to go into too much detail. Everyone knows a type. But what if the type is the only story that’s told? This is obviously a delicate balance.

We talked a lot about “Slumdog Millionaire,” which is definitely a film I’ve seen, and what my family not-so-subtly reminded me of before my departure. My friends felt that this was the only image of India—slums, violence, deceit. They were very much relieved when I mentioned that I’d seen a fair share of Bollywood films as well as “The Namesake,” “A Wednesday,” and the Deepa Mehta elements trilogy (all of these films I would recommend to anyone, by the way, because they’re FANTASTIC.) I was reluctant to tell them that these films were not popular in the US, that I just stumbled on them by accident in a class I took.

Their film impression of the US was that everyone was rich, everyone was beautiful, and everyone falls in love. Obviously, we all knew that these impressions were loosely based, but relevant nonetheless. Actually, our American film conversation was pretty short—they knew that I’d already seen all the films they talked about, they were certainly commercialized enough.

Anyway, my point is that it’s actually easy to say that not all stereotypes are true. There is trash in the street because before plastic packaging was introduced only twenty years ago, vender’s cups were made of clay and plates of banana leaves—things that can be thrown out a window without environmental repercussion. The train stations smell like piss because the toilets drain directly into the railway. It’s incredibly difficult for me to go into the city and see people begging in the streets, to be able to count the ribs on a homeless man. It turns my stomach to see children begging at all, and it literally makes me ill to see children with burn scars and missing limbs. Furthermore, Ossmania University students have committed suicide for the sake of the Telangana movement.

I know this is not all of India—I want everyone to know this, despite whatever they interpreted from “Slumdog.” But poverty is real. Starvation is real. It is by no means the rich white man’s job to come in here and save the place, but it is very important to acknowledge that Banjara Hills (the Beverly Hills of Hyderabad) is very different than Gachibowli outside of the city, but Gachibowli is very different from the slums of Mumbai. Hot water is not a luxury—clean water is a luxury.

Dr. Wolfe would love it here.

I learned recently that my dear cousin is reading some of my blog entries for her fellow 6th graders. I would like to say thank you, and I love you Megan! And I will be sure to post more often!

Classes are going very well so far. The scheduling system is so strange! First of all, classes officially began December 18, but many didn’t actually begin until the new year to allow for traveling. Secondly, departments will allow a one- to two-hour time slot for the class, but then the schedule can change depending on the student’s schedules. This made registering for classes incredibly difficult, because 1) classes may have started early and could have already been changed, 2) what does not conflict in your schedule on the day could change after going to class, and 3) UoHyd is not like a liberal arts college where the student takes classes in all departments; it is more like a conservatory where you stay in your own department, so cross-departmental classes often conflict. So for a double degree in English AND Theatre Arts like myself, I struggled a bit. Had to drop dance class, but I’m surrounded by it anyway (there are so many performances by the dance department here), so I’m still absorbing the atmosphere of the art at least. But my theatre classes don’t start until January 27th! I’m itching with anticipation!

On the flipside, I’ve picked up Sociology of Health, Sickness, and Healing, which examines the current health care system of India, and compares Western and Eastern medicine. It’s more than just pills versus herbs. We’ve talked a lot about public versus private affairs, and how medicine is becoming increasingly impersonal. It’s one of the best classes I’ve taken so far. I can’t wait to get to the Indian studies section to study the shamanic medicinal traditions.

The English class I’m taking is amazing. Professor Ramanan is easily one of the best I’ve ever had. He’s brilliant. Fortunately, he’s also very easy to understand. Most professors and students have very good English here, but the dialect is so unique that I have to listen very closely. One day in class he lectured on the education system, how English has affected it, and the response to it. I didn’t realize that during the British occupation, children were not taught Indian history—they were taught British history. Also, they were reprimanded for speaking in their mother tongue. We talked about Indian Classicists, Vernacularists, and Anglicists; this means people who favor education in Sanskrit or Persian, those who favor local languages, and those who favor English. I suppose it’s sort of like our schools that teach Latin, which obviously isn’t spoken anymore, and the push for Ebonics in 1975 and 1996, or even the push to modernize Shakespeare. But the moment that really caught my attention was when Professor Ramanan mentioned that his entire education has been in English. His English is better than his Hindi. He was very grateful for the extensive and quality education he’s received, but I could tell he was very passionate about maintaining local languages, even if education was in another.

It really made me think about what India has lost, and may never regain. I’m currently reading Forster’s “Passage to India,” in which he states that the occupation was not only a terrible idea economically or politically, but that it brought out the worst of both cultures. I wonder how true this is, considering Forster’s piece is creative non-fiction. What did India lose? What have we missed?

First Impressions

So much has happened in the last few days! A very long post…

For the first few days we were together, all the international students (mostly Americans) sat around in the common area getting to know one another. We didn’t have orientation yet, or bikes, so we couldn’t wander around campus—it’s far, far too big. We complained that the bandh was keeping us indoors, as the campus had shut down with the rest of the city. A bandh is a one-day strike organized by the ruling political party that shuts down the entire city; no one works, everyone stays at home. This one was instituted because of the Telangana protests.

Andhra Pradesh is split into two parts: Andhra and Telangana. Telangana is one of the lesser developed parts of India, and some of its people want to split from the Andhra Pradesh government and start their own. Why is this important for Hyderabad? Because Hyderabad is the capital of Andhra Pradesh, and is located in the Telangana region; if Telangana becomes a new state, Andhra will lose its IT industry. Most of the protests have been at Osmania University on the opposite side of Hyderabad, so UoH has been pretty quiet except for a few small marches of no more than 20 people. A few of us were in one of the outdoor student centers while they were setting up for a rally. There was chanting, a drum, a bonfire, and someone carrying a huge Ravana puppet (Ravana is the ten-headed Hindu god/demon with the knowledge of ten scholars that, although he is often considered an antagonist, is also capable of being an excellent ruler.) Perhaps the ten heads also were symbolic of Telangana’s ten regions? To calm nerves, no, I have no intention of participating in any of these, as I don’t really know what’s going on, and even if I did, protesting as a white American girl would be a terrible idea. However, in the next few months, everything will either go back to normal, or I will be in Hyderabad as history is made.

(Photo: piled in the back of an auto-rickshaw after shopping for New Year's punjabis. L-R: Allison, Rosemary, Melody, Caroline, Laura, me)

On New Year’s Eve, I’d befriended some lovely girls. I’m rooming with Rosemary. Since there’s another Kelsey around, they call me Kelsey LeAnn. Rosemary and I were at the SIP office when our shuttle unfortunately left us. We were outside, trying to figure out our way back to the student center when we met a fellow Tagore Int’l House resident Ali…who had a motorcycle. He gave us a ride back to Tagore and introduced us to his friends Amir, Alaa, and Achmed. The bandh was over, but there was a lot of hesitation to go out for New Year’s because of the unrest. Because of a pretty wild Halloween party this fall, Tagore is now a dry house (we don’t know yet how strictly this is enforced, but we didn’t want to test it too early). So we grabbed Caroline and Melody, and the four gentlemen drove us into the city on their bikes to get the appropriate materials for the evening’s on-campus lakeside party.

Caroline was late getting back because, we found out later, she decided to buy flowers. We were getting a little worried when she and her ride didn’t come back. Meanwhile, a quiet rumor was spreading throughout the girls’ wing that these four wild girls found a mysterious motorcycle gang of strangers and that one girl got abducted. I guess with everyone being locked up, they were eager for a juicy story.

Let’s review: motorcycles, incredibly fast and crowded Indian traffic, New Year’s Eve lakeside party with new friends. To say this was the best night of my life would be the understatement of the century.

In the meantime, I’ve been learning how to eat with only my right hand and without silverware. An unleavened bread called roti or poori (pictured is a small type of poori) is torn into pieces and used to pick up the food, usually some spiced veggie sauce served over rice. Lots of biryani. Lots of curry, lots of peppers. The food is consistently fantastic. Plus, the caf makes everything fresh, including their juice. This morning for breakfast we had fresh pineapple juice. Oh.my.goodness.

Dress really surprised me here. I figured since it was a city that there would have been a lot more westernized clothing. Men, young and old, wear pants and button up shirts, just like the west. Women, on the other hand, wear primarily saris and salwars. So I went shopping. And the rupee is something like 45 to the dollar.

I’m taking a lot of really great classes. I’m really excited to learn a language; Conversational Hindi is offered through SIP, and one of my friends offered to teach me Arabic. I’ll also be taking classes from the main catalogue, including Aspects of Indian Modernity (a literature course), Approaches to Acting, and an independent study of either kuchipudi or bharatnatyam dance (YouTube them! They’re amazing!) I met a few theatre students the other day. We’re the same everywhere—I knew before they spoke to me they were actors, haha!

I’m also getting used to Standard Indian Time. This means when they say one minute, they mean an hour. When they say 11:30 prompt, they mean 1:00. Classes rarely start on time, and the kuchipudi/bharatnatyam performance scheduled for 7:30 began at about 7:55. The campus shuttle runs on schedule at a quarter to every hour. That is, on the days it decides to come at all.

 And whoever said that India has monkeys like we have squirrels wasn’t kidding. Macaques are rampant.