India - March 2005

# 10 - Monday March 7, 2005
 

Adjustment??

This time next week (Sunday 6pm), I will be on my way to Chennai for an 11:30pm flight to Singapore.  I am beginning to wonder if I will adjust.  I no longer speak proper English… I use only simple words, and no sentences.  I no longer think in terms of details, and exactness… my head bobbles like a top, while my eyes glaze over as I talk.  How long will I continue to take the skins off fruits and vegetables?  How long will I reach for the bottled water, when I do my teeth?  It will have been 100 days, when I arrive in Vancouver on March 14^th.  I can’t imagine what it is like to stay in a foreign country for years… changed forever, I’m sure.   For me it has been just a blip in time, so I am expecting I will re-adjust… though I am not so sure I really want to go back to the old ways.

I seem to have developed a liking for the approximate.  It does take concentration!  You never have any idea about which direction things will head: language; money; vehicles; time.  Suddenly! It is happening, more… or less?  It will happen quick, or incredibly slow?  I assume nothing.  Will that change when I get home?  How soon will I start to make my automatic assumptions again?

So many languages… Danish, German, French, Italian, Tamil, Hindi.  Here we all are trying to make the world go ‘round… with whatever words or gestures.  Perhaps that’s! it…  we just bobble our heads, say this, and that, until somehow we reach an agreement… we meet on the world, as it goes ‘round.

Yesterday, in the e-mail hut, Munusammi (the owner… a very beautiful, tall, soft eyed, soft spoken man of 30) is consulting with a German fellow (raw boned, big, brisk, intense, loud man of perhaps 55 yrs. or so).  They are so different!  The German fellow needs to send a series of e-mails out… somehow they are getting through the conversation.  Finally, the task is done.  So, by way of a pause in their dealings, the German fellow takes note of Munusammii’s T-shirt.  It happens to have a German “saying” on it.  The German fellow says, “Do you know what it means?” Munusammi says, “No… it is German… that is all I know.  I like that.”  The German reads it out, first in German then he tries to translate it into English.  It is “Cause and ……”  Hmmmm.  He punches his L arm with his R hand.  They both try for words.  They don’t come up with anything.  The German fellow looks over at me… “What is it?” he says… pushing his arm again… “it happens…”, he says.  I haven’t really been listening. “Result?” I say.  “Yes!  Yes! RESULT!” they both are so pleased.  (me too).  What fun!  They both know the word, “result”.  I look at the shirt… and say, “Cause and Effect”.  They look at me blankly.  “A philosophical saying.” I try.  “Aaauugh, auugh,” they both say… and happily carry on.  The word “effect’ meant nothing to either of them.  We are all bobbling our heads.  We are happy, letting things take their own course.  There is no need to go further.

Then there is the issue deciding on cost.  I am at the tailor’s hut again.  I had learned, while sitting at the teashop… having been told by my rickshaw driver… that my slacks were ready.  (How does this happen??)  In time, I go.  “Auuugh” he says  “3, 4 days you not come. First you come many times.  I am not ready.  Then you don’t come!”  (This is Monday.)  “I was here Saturday,” I say.  “And your man show me … not ready.”  I am all gestures. He is bobbling his head.  “You were closed yesterday.” “Yes, yes… close Sundays!”  (When? I wonder was I not here???) We carry on.  “Oh… I think too long.”  I say.  “Same as your sample .”  He says.  “Yes.  Yes.”  I say.  “You don’t tell me.” He says.  I bobble my head… wondering where do we go now.  “I change,” he says.  “an inch I think.”  “Good” I say.  “You wait.” Bobbling his head. “No.” I say.  “I do e-mail.  Back in an hour?” Bobbling my head.  “That’s good!” he says.  He is happy.  “How much?” I ask.  “100R ($3) each,” he says, head bobbling.  “But maybe more.  I do special work, cause of stripes… now do change.  So maybe more?”  (Oh great! I think… some more??? What does that mean??) My head bobbles (automatically!). “You think; you decide.” He says, head bobbling.  I say “1R?? 5R??” I smile.  “Oh… we all like money.” He says. I make a joke, “More always best!”  We laugh.  Our heads are still bobbling, as I go on my way.

In an hour… or two?  I don’t worry (time is never! an issue)… I am back.  The pants are shortened.  I have decided to add 50R ($1.30).  I give him 230R. He smiles.  “You happy now?” he says. Head bobble.   “Yes! Yes! I am happy.” I say.  “You no longer upset that is good.”  “Very good!” he says.  (Auugh. He does know about Saturday, and that I was slightly miffed… it had been over 2 weeks… and he had promised the previous Monday.  Time. I do know it is a busy time, as all the westerners get ready to leave…. and he has been sick… and one of his workers is away.)  So, I paid $1.30 more.  My cloth was ½ meters short, making cutting stripes difficult; I know my sample was too long; but then he didn’t do his usual ‘fitting’ either, given he was hurrying to make his commitments. But! I am happy.  We both grin.  When both people are happy it is a successful negotiation which is important in this culture.  

I could go on and on… my rickshaw driver… “come at 4pm tomorrow.” I say.  “5pm?” he says.  “3:45pm” I say.  Heads bobbling.  “Tomorrow!” he says.  We agree on that.  (I just know now not to keep bickering… something is happening.)  Well, actually he didn’t come.  He sent his friend… at 4pm.

Then there is the laundry, which lost my dress for 4 days.  Finally… a new face turns up.  I tell him what I what (again).  We go in the back room for the 5^th time in a week.  He goes through a stack… there it is!!  “I’ve been in Madras.” He says. “You took my dress! To Madras,” I say.  This is a big joke.  All heads are bobbling.

So! I have adjusted.  I am sure I can adjust again!

My retreat?  Was the purpose of my visit met?  It has been good.  The piece I couldn’t get in the past:  “Duality and unreality vs. Consciousness and reality.”  Well… I got it!!  A simple change in perception, when the whole (self) perceives, not just the ego!!  So what??  Does it really matter?  It does help with dropping the “identity… attachments”… thus happiness gets a greater chance to pervade:  Happiness, not based on pleasure, just based on Being.  There is probably more, but these things are hard to articulate.

Some things I will not miss. There have been a couple of unexpected “Good-Byes,” this past week.  I have had a gecko drop from the high window grill and bounce off my calf, as I lay on my bed reading; I have had a cockroach drop from the sleeve of a dress I was putting on (the one from the laundry… never again!  I must find a new laundry); and, while walking up a path with a friend, in the dark, with a flashlight… there, off to the side… a stick?? Nooo… Oh No! But, yes!  We passed a cobra.  He did not rise up.  We did scurried past.  So much for non-attachment!

They have all come forward to say their good-byes… my worst fears, kindly waited to the end, after I have booked my cottage for the next year!

THE END… for this go-around. J  Love, p

#11 – Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Adjusting, Or Not… :

(This journal entry was not shared with family and friends.  At the time, I was too confused to be confident that my words said anything of note.  Now… I see the words as an attempt to express that confusion of re-entry; and my deep feelings for India.)

I am different, I think.  It seems Canada is no longer ‘home’.  Is it possible that ‘Canada’ has just become a word, and that it no longer holds meaning for me?  I know it as the country of my birth and as a ‘good’ country, as nations go: But, being back in Canada does not warm my heart.  It seems, as I return from India, that home just ‘Is’… it surrounds and permeates, rather like a clear cloud of warmth and support:  Love?  Is it possible that ‘home’ is no longer a place?

Usually, I cross over the border from the United States or arrive back in Canada by air, and feel myself ‘settle down’, feeling the familiar.  I sink into the comfort of the familiar.  This time ‘the familiar’ no longer satisfied, rather it felt, as if, it lied.  The familiar seemed suspect.  It seemed to just represent patterns… and all these patterns felt like boxes confining ‘us’.  The patterns were no long comfortable.  At any rate, I didn’t feel that familiar feeling of ‘coming home’.  In fact, I became aware of NOT wanting to feel it.

On the afternoon of my arrival in Vancouver, a friend picked me up at the airport and when we got to her home, she took me for a nice walk to stretch my legs.  “It’s such an early spring,” she said to me “aren’t the gardens beautiful!”  All I could see was the prettiness… the planned prettiness.  I felt a little dissociated as I heard myself thinking these strange thoughts.  I have always like ‘pretty’.  But, I wasn’t drawn to it this time.  I was also very aware I didn’t want to get pulled into it … and become distracted by it.  I didn’t want things all organized.  It wasn’t ‘natural’!  No chaos; few people on the streets… walking; only motored vehicles on the roads… all in straight lines… stop signs… stop lights.  We are so obedient.  Where were the cows!  I missed them.

This was the beginning of my re-entry.  There was more:  The air was fresh; the sky vast; the city busy; and it was cold… to me.  My friend wore a light jacket; I wore a wool jacket and was wrapped in a large woolen shawl.  Cold became a metaphor of what I was starting to experience in my country of origin.  It was not just the temperature of a spring breeze on the West Coast:  It was to exemplify the shock of meeting my culture full blast.

On my second day, I went to a tire store, given my car had ended up with a flat tire during its’ winter rest.  When I got out of my car, the shop manager walked toward me:  Immediately!  I didn’t have to wait at all.  At first, I was very relieved… obviously, a bright, efficient, personable guy.  But! as we started our interaction, it became very clear to me that he came forward for business only… so quick to form questions; so decisive with the information he provided.   He was very efficient.  Very quickly I could see the impatience grow in him, with my lack of response.  All I could do was thank him, and tell him I would sit down for a bit and think about what he had told me.  I was so stunned by all the quick, efficiency that my mind went blank.  I had to do more than sit down:  I had to drive away, to give myself a whole day to recover from the shock.  I felt chopped in half… it was all too quick!!  Too decisive!!  Too COLD.

It seems I had got used to the warmth of India.  Not just the weather, but the human warmth, which includes the time to engage in endless discussion.  One may wait for some time, before a shopkeeper gives you attention… he may be talking with a friend.  Or! if he is ‘with me’ immediately, then I know I can take all the time I want:  He will bring me everything in the shop… until I am happy.  We are very likely to take time for tea.  A good deal, is a happy deal!  It is expected that we will both end up happy, whether a deal is made or not: “Come back again!  You will buy another day.”  It is O-Kay to be indecisive.  One day is as good as another:  Time is not an issue.  It is a given, that all things take time.  This lends itself to a feeling of expansiveness… WARM.

Obviously, re-entry was requiring an adjustment.  I had thought it might.  I just didn’t think it would be so shocking!  I had never thought of my culture as cold.

………..

Tuesday, April 5^th… about 25 days after arrival

I miss Thiruvannamali every day… maybe more each day.  When I left, I wrote to someone that I was leaving ‘trailing clouds of Glory’   (Blake or Wordsworth??)  When I was there, it was ‘as if’ I could feel ‘the Greater’, as I walked: to the shops in the evening doing my daily grocery shop; as I walked the paths around Arunachula; as I headed off to the Chennai airport.  I think this sense diminishes each day I am back in my old environment.  If I concentrate… ‘yes’… it is there; but no longer a sense of a billowing cloud.

Friends remarked on my face several times when I first returned:  “Your skin is so clear”; “You look so calm and relaxed”.  I noticed during those first couple of weeks, that even strangers ‘took a look’:  At what?  What caught their eye?  Did I look somehow different from others?  Did my behavior not fit in?  I really don’t know what it was about.  I was wearing my usual western clothes; I did not have a tan (I kept out of the sun in India)… no, my head was not bobbling.  As I look back upon it now, I would say my face has changed over the past 3 weeks:  It is back to a normal ‘Canadian’ one… a little strained (not! as bad as a New Yorker J); even ‘murky’ I think… less openness, so less clear?  This strained, murky look is not due to problems with finances, or family.  I think it is just the day-in-day-out endless activity, done in a ‘timely’ manner… of living here.  I would say I felt well-nourished spiritually by my stay in India.  This nourishment is fading.

It is harder to swim in ‘IT’ here in North America… the water seems so thin… there is not ‘enough’ for a good swim, just a shallow splash.  I was very happy in Thiru… such good ‘swimming’!  Can’t wait for October.  (Guess I am going back.)