My love-hate-love relationship with India

Everyday, every minute, India rocks your beliefs about the way the world is supposed to operate. The words of my shaman teacher float though my mind constantly. "Be open to outcome, not attached to outcome" seems to be the only way through preconceived notions, opinions and attachments. Yesterday I had two distinct experiences that dragged me through the spectrum of tears, frustration and Indian culture.

Situation #1: Tiger, an Indian shop owner, invited Gerdien and me in for chai. He was a young guy and had lived in Europe for a few months so his English was quite good for he was able to engage in a complex conversation. As a sociologist, Gerdien is really observant of the people in the places we visit and I really appreciate this about her. We'd both noticed a relative "shortage" of disabled people in Rajasthan (as opposed to some other regions we'd visited) and she'd also noticed very few mentally ill people on the streets. So she asked him and thus began the conversation that was to make me cry.

"Indians don't need to have mental institutions because our families take care of us. If someone in our family or village is sick or has problems, we all take care of the problem and support each other." He talked about the loneliness that he witnessed in Belgium and he sees in American culture too. He commented that westerners are seemingly more concerned with having the latest things than in supporting our own families through difficult times like aging and sickness. Gerdien asked about medication for depression and if it's a normal prescribed remedy for a common ailment. "No! We take the person into our house and take care of them until they are well. We have no need for medications. We have family." He talked about how so many young Indians idolize western life, and he's concerned that the western way of treating our families will follow suit.

The conversation just rocked me...it's a way of living, being and caring that they have for each other. And it's their culture. How different would our world be if we all lived like this?

Situation #2: We made a reservation to tour the prestigious Lake Palace in Udaipur. We were to arrive around 5pm, have a tour and then watch the sunset. (If you have ever seen James Bond's Octopussy, then you're familiar with Udaipur and the Lake Palace. It's stunning!) So at 4:15 we begin making our way to the boat jetty to catch the small ferry to the island retreat. The conversations we have go something like this:

"It's that way. But if you go this way it will cost you 80% less." (That boat doesn't go to the Lake Palace.)
"You have to go to the Palace Museum to get the boat. You have to buy a ticket to get into the museum to get the boat." (My contact at the hotel did not mention a ticket or a fee so I'm skeptical.)
"The Palace Museum closes at 4:30 so you can not get the boat." (The website says that boat runs 24 hours.)
"You have to phone the Lake Palace and tell them that you are coming so you can get on their security list." (I've done that.) "You have to call them." (I've already done that.) "You need to call them before you buy the ticket." (The ticket that they are unwilling to sell me because it's after 4:30).

I get frustrated, fueled by my first cup of coffee in months, and call my contact at the Lake Palace again to tell them that I'm having a difficult time getting through security. He says, "You only need to go to Bari..." and then silence. My phone battery dies. I try to start it so that I can get the number at least before calling back from the office where I'm sitting, but the phone won't boot.

Next, we're told we don't need to buy tickets but we have to stop at the security office. Like so many Indian offices, this one has eight men sitting in a small room and only one is at a computer. He's busily looking at some Hindi writing on a logbook that looks at least 20 years old trying to answer my question. He gets an email so he's reading it, then the phone rings - at least 10 times - and he finally answers it while all the other seemingly not busy men don't even wince. Then his cell phone rings so he now has two phone conversations going simultaneously (all in Hindi so unfortunately I can't understand them) and I assume he's trying to get my passage through the gate. He hangs up the phones and pulls out the "Security Ticket" book that I assume we're waiting for. He writes the pass, though it takes him another five minutes to sign the ticket as the phones start ringing again and, again, he is the only one in the room interested in touching a phone.

With our pass finally in hand, he tells us with a typical Indian hand gesture using the back of his hand, "Go there". "Where?" I ask. He does it again. "Will you show us?" (at this point it's been an hour of frustration and the thought of getting lost makes me want to scream). He does it again. Finally I grab the arm of the nearest security guard and say, "Please show me where" quite adamantly. And he does. And I turn and offer him a "Namaste" with hands in prayer pose.

Peace. Indian style.

After all of that, we did make it to the Lake Palace and WOW! It is a remarkable old maharaja's palace that was converted to become a hotel in 1962. It's got 17th century splendor and 22nd century prices.

We have three cocktails each. For India.