If you were watching my day today and decided to rewind it on the screen, you would see many purely Indian moments. Yet sitting on the white blankets and sheets of my bed I am clearly surrounded by western comforts. Inside the Hotel Naveen walls, it’s easy to immerse into luxury without a second thought. Often times I make myself take a mental step back to remember that this luxury India is not the “real” India.
And so I love to replay the real India moments of my day. I love starting my day with masala chai, even if it is accompanying my very western breakfast of toast and peanut butter (can’t travel without it!). I will run after the local bus (not lady-like) but then step onto the front of the bus to join the company of women’s saris, kurtas, bindis and braids (very lady-like). I love bobbling my head in agreement, greeting with humbling Namastes and white teeth smiles, and bargaining for rickshaw rides like a local. I make sure to wear the unflattering baggy pants, long kurta (shirt), and on most days, to cover any remaining freckled white skin with a shawl, only to balance such ladylike behavior by letting my wildly curly hair play freely in the lovely dust/wind combination. However I have started using the customary jasmine scented hair oil to calm down the frizz and bring on the shine; yes, just like a lady. And I am practically Indian when I eat with my right fingers, which are quickly colored by curry sauce and rice from the meal.
But my all-time favorite India moment is when I greet and am greeted by the ever-warm call of the “sweet” name (insert first name in quotations). Descending down the staircase, Miss Monica is almost always there to say good morning. Vivek usually stands behind the front desk, head bobbling hi. Roopa is the woman you want to talk to in order to get things done. Babu or Manju picks us up after breakfast, to deliver us safely to the college campus where we work. Pascal offers us his young smile in the evenings. Samson is the restaurant manager who spoils us, and Shafik is our ever-so-doting waiter. My daily interactions with these people are pieces of my day that I soak up and relish in the experience.
The intimacy created with the people around Hubli is amazing. Their memory matches those of elephants. They remember our faces and names from the time we spent here a year and a half ago. Maybe it’s because they’ve seen so few white people, let alone a professor with long blonde hair. Shafik’s eyes recognized me when he saw me walking into the Naveen restaurant. Last year he passed me walking on the side of the road on his motorcycle. We had an informal conversation but once I shared that my name was “Yasmine”, his eyes popped out of his head like a deer in headlights because it is a Muslim name. Shafik is a Muslim. Yasmine’s Indian/Muslim marriage prospect= 1. Sweet. And though Shafik’s tendencies borderline creepy, he is overall harmless and sincere. He respected my “Do Not Disturb” sign on my room door on my second night, when he delivered welcome back sweets at 10 pm, and so instead he knocked on the professor’s door. Or the time when I came into the restaurant for lunch and he gave me at least two up-down looks, only then to compliment me that I looked good in my man clothes (a buttoned-down white shirt).
Now wherever I go, if I’m walking, chatting up ladies on the bus, or buying a liter of water on the side of the road in Hubli and Dharward (the twin city next to Hubli), I make sure to ask names of every person I meet. I’ve tried to learn the phrase in Kannada, and yet it’s much more successful in English. Probably because this is the second question we get asked, right after “Which is your country?” And yet, I will continue to practice- “Nima hesaru?”
Shafik and team (Abby and Professor Lori Gardinier) after he gave us a whole Chocolate Forest Cake for Valentine's Day on behalf of the Naveen staff.
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