Five Minutes to Midnight - Issue for April 2006 - A Broad Abroad- An Indian Discovery


A Broad Abroad- An Indian Discovery (by Natasha Menon) Girls should be seen and not heard. That is what my grandmother told me when I was nine years old. Feel like heaving a crystal vase against a brick wall? Consider the obscure notions that were ludicrously ticking away in my mind—that of a loud, basketball-obsessed tomboy who was far more intrigued by Video Hits and sports than by violin lessons. Oh, and just to spread the icing on the cake, I should mention that I am Indian. I assure you this is far more than just a cultural label. Despite having been born and brought up in Australia and having only English spoken at home (apart from the constant 'disagreements'—so to speak—which led my mother to swear in our language) I promptly discovered that I was different. Yes, indeed, my dark skin wasn't just a ridiculously painful tan resulting from irresponsible sun exposure. Despite my three-year-old attempts to draw myself as a fair stick figure with long blonde hair, I established early in my mind that my skin colour was the only thing that physically differentiated me from my friends. Yet, as I was soon to discover, I was in a whole other ballgame… According to my family I was first to be an… 'Indian girl'. Natasha, Indian girl: n. 1. an excuse for my parents to control my life while I was growing up; 2. consisting of high school nostalgia for times when I told my parents I was on the phone to my friend Amy rather than (gasp!)—god forbid— a boy; 3. holder of bizarre memories (that I honestly thought I would be telling to a shrink before the readers of lip!) of my father chasing me around our living room in an attempt to get me off the phone with the 15-year-old 'love of my life'. Oh, these beloved memories. The 'good times' during one's adolescent years, when if confusion about sex, one's own personality and who exactly were one's friends weren't enough, having a 'boyfriend', 'being spontaneous' or 'partying' were utterly unacceptable to one's very own blood line… Without doubt the umpteen number of disputes, quarrels and constant disagreements between my family and me revolved around individualism—a topic of eminent significance and importance predominantly within our Western world. Much to my apprehension, rather than a person being individually expressive, the family name was seen as by far the most prestigious aspect of a person to be collectively upheld to the eyes of any Indian. Memories of the repetitious, long-winded speeches from my delicate grandmother about how 'one should respect their elders', how 'you must study hard and a get a good job and husband' and that 'family is the most important' circulates in my memory like a distant, crackling record. I felt as if I was seeing my life already lived and despised having this preconceived notion of how I should be just because of my culture. I wanted to stand on my own two feet, experience what the world had to offer on my own and escape the sheltered, protective lifestyle that was being made existent to me. It's no wonder that embracing my cultural heritage, values and beliefs was the furthest thing from my mind. Accordingly, much to my family's dismay, whilst I was growing up I was everything the 'typical' Indian girl shouldn't be: My stubbornness and opinionated and supposed 'gregarious' personality continuously collided with my family's somewhat more conservative views. For example, my hair has varied through six different shades of colour (not including a hideous perm and short 'retro mullet' that even I like to forget about). I played more sports than most boys (or, as I was 'oh-so-subtly' told by my grandmother, I would never get married if kept playing as much sport as I did, for the simple reason that 'I would end up looking like a boy'). During primary school, rather than learning to play the cello, flute or violin, my musical expertise comprised of knowing the lyrics of every top-40 song. My memory takes a fancy to recollections of under-age clubbing and high school gatherings… In my mind, the thought of wearing a beige suit to work as a doctor, lawyer or engineer (ie. the three occupations of an Indian) was possibly more mind-numbing than beating my head with a blunt pole. I admit, my family did support everything I undertook even if they did not readily agree with it. They were, after all, my family and despite disagreeing with a number of their values, I have always respected and loved them greatly. Hence, to initially keep my parents content, I wrangled my way into studying law at university. I never outwardly wanted to rebel against their attitudes, but my creative, individualistic flair very quickly drove me, much to my father's dissatisfaction, to 'pursue other interests'. I've always loved to be with and meet new people and wanted to embrace my adventurous streak, travel the world, experience every culture and hear every person's story! I wanted to go scuba diving with sharks! I wanted to sky dive over the ocean! I wanted to make a difference—I wanted to do everything possible that our world has to offer. But in retrospect I realize this 'flighty selfish behaviour', as my mother would put it, drove my family insane. With contradictory judgments, opinions and views clashing on every level, it is not at all a surprise that while growing up I shunned everything in my life that was remotely Indian. People would ask where I was from and, before they could gasp for a second breath, I would swiftly respond, saying 'oh, yeah—my folks are from India, but I'm from here!' Other than having my name tattooed on my hip in Hindi, never once did I outwardly admit to my Indian heritage, though I never outwardly denied it. I always blamed my vulnerability and weaknesses on being Indian rather than embracing and accepting it as part of who I was. The realization that it was actually me who may have failed at something—not my supposed dark armour—is, believe it or not, only something I have just uncovered. Despite living in a nation with over 160 different nationalities, I always felt in the minority. The days in high school when I never seemed to have as many boyfriends, as my friends, or only ever saw newsreaders and reporters who had the clichéd blond hair and blue eyes seemed to place a doubtful question in my mind. Although my friends saw me as no different, I couldn't help but ponder—is it my skin colour? Although outwardly I was an extrovert to the core, inside I was a catastrophic muddle—not knowing who I really was. However, after the ending of a friendship between two close friends and I, it occurred to me. Up until this point—all my life—despite claiming I was an individual, my personality was merely dictated by what people expected of me. I was consumed by what others thought of me or how people would accept me in different scenarios and, accordingly, had never truly recognized who the real person was behind this deceptive mirage. The cliché is true: despite it taking almost 20 years, realizing who I am has unquestionably broadened the way I perceive every aspect of my life. More importantly though, it has enabled me to reach a firm conclusion that of which I believe everyone should be aware. For a long time now 'my world' has merely encompassed going to university, partying, exercising, hanging out with friends and, of course, making each day of my life count towards helping me achieve my biggest dream—working as a television journalist. Common feature… it was all about me. Honestly, though, what is so different about this and the way any other university student lives? Are we all self-centered? Are we arrogant? Living in a Western nation, we seem at times to be caught up in a whirlwind of materialistic presumptions—based on the notion that happiness is dependent on what we have rather than what we are. I, for one, was sheltered within a plastic lifestyle and was undoubtedly 'a material girl in a material world'. Ever since I was young my competitive streak forever governed me to be the best in everything I did. It was this particular attitude that led me, like many girls I know, to rely on always wanting to have the finest form of and in…well, everyone and everything. I managed to blame my compulsive spending behavior—earning $100 and somehow managing to spend $120—on being 'a victim of fashion'. Wanting the new Prada shields, Lee skinny leg jeans, that vintage op-shop dress, $120 haircuts from Oscar Oscar, a Country Road kaftan…yes, 'style and quality exemplifies class', right?* Note to self, Natasha: Sex and the City is not real life. Sure, Carrie could get away with buying a pair of $395 open-toed Gucci shoes, yet here I was, a university student, influenced unknowingly to develop a naïve outlook on how one should 'enjoy' life. This new thread that I began to unravel startled me. It was just after I had traveled to India, a country with beauty, history and culture so densely woven through every crevice of its land, that I experienced a rude awakening. Despite having visited the subcontinent on a number of occasions prior to this, I had never truly let it in. Up until this point I saw my life through a superficial kaleidoscope that blurred what was truly important and presented life through a one-dimensional lens. Here I was in a nation that I had eschewed up until this point, yet now I found myself captivated by the simplicity and candidness of India's everyday person. India sideswiped me with its size, clamour and diversity. Delving into its convoluted cosmology, I quickly came to realize that the combination of the nation's history, the lives of the everyday person and their strong-willed beliefs about culture placed India as one of the most intricate and rewarding dramas unfolding on our earth. Bound by the majestic Himalayan ranges in the north and edged by an endless stretch of golden beaches, I was soon to discover that India was more than just exquisite landscapes, gold-plated palaces, magnificent historical sites and misty mountain retreats. Side by side with the country's staggering topographical variations was its assortment of colourful people and an exuberantly diverse culture. I would find myself sitting on a street-side, watching the myriads of people go past for hours, pondering each individual's fascinating life story. However, despite India's current economic boom, which has led to colossal amounts of new wealth, I was soon to discover that it was not shared by all, but rather exclusively benefited the upper-middle classes. My vision of this nation's delicate charisma was destroyed. Despite it being more than 50 years since India gained independence from British rule, large-scale poverty remains the most shameful blot on the face of this exquisite nation. Currently India has the world's largest number of poor people in a single country. Of its 1.1 billion inhabitants, almost 40% are below the poverty line. Or in laymen's terms, 400 million people cannot afford to purchase the resources they require to live, and they earn a mere $1.00 a day. This disparity in wealth is starkly evident in Mumbai, which doubles as the commercial capital of India and the home of the largest slum in Asia. Landing in Mumbai, the supposed gateway of the 'glitz and glamour of Bollywood,' I was unhinged by what I saw. India's excessive poverty, unequal wealth distribution and high rent and real estate prices have resulted in over half of Mumbai's population (equivalent to more than the population of New South Wales) being unable to afford proper housing. Consequently hundreds upon thousands of shanties—unstable, flimsy huts made from just about anything you can think of—plastered the horizon. Despite continual attempts to remedy the problem of poverty in Mumbai, the slums still grow at a greater rate than the city's general urban growth. Considering India's population growth rate has by far exceeded its economic growth rate for the better part of the past 50 years, it is downright terrifying to consider that the United Nations estimates Mumbai's population will escalate to 27.37 million in the next 15 years, making it the world's most populated city after Tokyo. Yet despite the polluted, over-populated surrounding of the slums; despite an enormous feeling of helplessness and guilt because of what I saw during my time there; despite being one of the 'fortunate ones' and not being from that part of India; despite all of it, vivid images of true human courage, emotion and wealth allowed me to appreciate and proudly admit to where I came from. My attention was drawn to two young children, no older than the age of ten, as our car idled at an intersection. Standing in the middle of the road, the children, who seemed to be brother and sister, performed tricks like circus animals. Jumping through hula-hoops and doing the most amazing cartwheels, all for the possibility that a generous onlooker would toss some rupees at them. Still having only Australian dollars with me, I rummaged through my bag to find anything that they might appreciate. One Teaspoon catalogue magazine—ah, no. The DaVinci Code novel—ah…no. Hot pink nail polish—nope. Bank cards—nope. All that was left was a packet of Mentos and Tiny Teddies I still had with me from when I left. I felt pathetic as I rolled down my window and placed the two items in the girl's hand. But although she said nothing, the tiny smile that gleamed from the crevices of her lips told enough. Again whilst sailing through a lush tropical rainforest, I was again blown away, this time by a group of six young boys who lived on the isolated shores. They were so excited to see we had a camera that they ripped off their shirts and began laughing and frolicking in the water. Where, when had I begun to misconstrue happiness? Dieting, make-up or reading about How to get killer abs this summer put me in disgrace… What does it matter? Here were some boys that, despite having close to nothing to show materially, had more wealth and courage than anyone I knew. The feeling that every person here had an amazing story to tell was palpable. They had seen and experienced feelings and emotions that we back at home are completely oblivious too. Life in the poverty-stricken slums or the unpretentious world of the rainforest wasn't about promotions, Playstations or parties, but rather the mere essence of survival and embracing every second of life there is to cherish. However, realizing that this uplifting outlook on life was apparent within my own family was a truly fulfilling notion. My grandparents were both doctors and throughout their lives were involved in numerous activities that helped the poor. Twenty years ago they decided to allow an eight-year-old boy named Siva to work at their house, to help him earn some money for his large family that consisted of eight boys. The decency and respectable temperament he exhibited, even at his young age, did not go unnoticed. Having a natural flare for electronics and computers and being able to fix anything from radios to televisions, they realized that this boy had enormous potential and decided to pay for his schooling as well as look after him. Having known Siva since I was a baby, we all see him as part of the family, not merely just 'domestic help'. Today he works as a computer technician and recently also got married. To know that someone who may not have had this sort of opportunity is now doing so well in life is something I greatly admire my family for supporting. Even though a majority of Indians have accepted modern means of living, to me it was obvious that, regardless of a person's wealth or social status, every person still had their values firmly secured. What I came to realize from accepting my culture is that you can change the way you dress, what you eat and how you live, but possessing rich values and, most importantly, staying true to yourself will allow you to experience 'wealth' in a completely new and different dimension. Although I never understood the significance behind my grandma's repetitious speeches, I now realize the relevance of her concern. Our values and beliefs and, most importantly, our morals must remain deeply entrenched within our hearts and mind, as they make up the foundations of who we are. I'm still the same girl who craves adventure and pumping adrenaline. I'm still the same girl who adores shopping and partying. I'm still the same girl who wants to be a television reporter. I'm still the same opinionated girl, but now, having opened my eyes and broadened my perspective, I realize that there is more to life than what we may initially perceive. The courage and resilience evident in the Indian people is something I greatly admire. The appreciation for the good moment, the beautiful moment, the generous moment that many of the poor readily attain is one of the most admirable human qualities I have ever witnessed. I know that, if anything, I can take from this extraordinary experience the undeniable courage to live life in the most positive manner. Life is like a deck of cards and sometimes we need to hold on to a breath and appreciate the hand we have been given. I've come to the conclusion that we must not choose to merely respect the conditions of those who are less fortunate than us. Many a time, pure sympathy counteracts situations when we can be productive, as we are the ones who can make a difference. I am currently saving to go overseas and volunteer my services within an orphanage in India. I for one now realise a Sass and Bide label on the back of jeans pocket means nothing, when you consider that an average Australian parking meter makes more in an hour than 2.7 billion people make in a day. We from Australia must remember that we live in a nation with so much opportunity and freedom that sometimes it's hard to comprehend what it would be like if we didn't have that choice to make our life what we want it to be. You needn't go out today and change the world but I ask you to not take for granted the world we live in. Although at times it may seem like we're suffocating within a plastic façade, we must remember that happiness is truly not dependent on what we have, but rather who we are. You cannot spend life worrying about what others think – being yourself is far more valuable. After all it is that which sets you apart from the rest and most importantly it makes you more determined to leave your mark. My grandmother may have once told me that girls should be seen and not heard, but—I'm sorry Ammamma—I may have gained appreciation about where I come from, but my stubborn and outspoken nature is yet to be subdued. Today I am writing as first and foremost a girl who wants to be seen and heard. Learn more about India and how you can help out: INDIA Information for volunteers http://www.volunteering.org.au/india_i.html Overseas Working Holidays 'Volunteer in India' http://www.owh.com.au/volunteer_india.cfm Indian Child 'Poverty in India' http://www.indianchild.com/poverty_in_india.htm Tourism India http://www.tourisminindia.com If you wish to respond to an article or contribute to a future issue, please contact Hannah Renglich at editor@fiveminutestomidnight.org. [ issue contents ] [ fmm home ] [ send feedback ] [ tell a friend ]