Once Restless Now Revived

I realize that every time I write a new post I spend the first paragraph apologizing for the hiatus I’ve taken in between the preceding entry and the next one. So I’ll keep it short this time: I’m sorry for the large time delay in my reflections. India keeps you fairly busy, I find, even when you least expect it to. I have been riding this rollercoaster of a journey for enough time now that I forget to stop, sit and process. But I’m doing it now. I’m riding the train from Chandigarh to Delhi and so I figure I’ve got some time to sort through what’s been going on in the last little while.

I guess I last wrote when I had just gotten to Ahmedabad and had begun my work at Taleem Research Foundation.  Unfortunately, that experience didn’t exactly work out. I tried it and I discovered how restless my whole self becomes when I’m surrounded by monotony. A bland routine of going to a box-like office and spending the next nine hours of every day staring at a computer screen statically editing a terribly lengthy and incoherent document on a topic inconsistent from the Foundation’s work was draining me out, making me a slave of unproductive research. I got out of there as fast as I could and began my re-discovery of India by first journeying to Rajastan and then by looking elsewhere for a professional experience that I fit into.

Success followed, but not before I had lived for a month in Chandigarh – too long a time to spend there, in my opinion. In India, Chandigarh is home. But it’s also a place where family seems invincible. The subtle power of the family is so strong it pushes mightily down on you, no matter how hard you try and fight it.  So I had to get out of there too.  I was becoming restless  and angry; I went through periods of time where I longed for the freedom of home, where I could go the post office and to the market by myself – where I alone have an ATM card and I alone choose how to use it.  

I was starting to resent this decision of coming to India and was clouded by my desperation to leave that I forgot about the irreplaceable experience I’d had thus far. I forgot about the amazing connections I’d made with the family that seemed so far away just a few months ago.  This reality became all too clear when, mid-November, my family lost one of our pillars: My grand-aunt.  I won’t go into detail because that’s a novel of an experience by itself, but it was the first time that I saw the strength and beauty of family, and when death made itself really visible to me. While my familial bonds became that much stronger, the veil between me and death became just a little bit less opaque. It has been tough attempting to manipulate such a veil, so that I am affected by it but so that I also learn to live despite its presence. I’m getting better at that and I’ve been grateful to have family around for this.

After a bizarre period of needing to get away from family and then being drawn back into the familial sphere during a time of mourning (in addition to semi-facilitating an amazing 10 day theatre workshop for young college girls), I made the decision to leave Chandigarh, so that I could avoid being smothered by family at the same time that I could be close to them for the rest of my time here.  Thus came Plan B: The Move to Dharmshala.  

A decision motivated by my Aunt’s colleague who is passionate about women’s empowerment as well as by my longing for a grassroots experience with human rights and women’s issues, I got my things together and headed up north to Dharmshala, the home of the Dalai Lama and a place in incredible cultural flux – a place I never in my wildest dreams thought I’d get to see any time soon, a place I didn’t think I’d ever have any connection with.  But, life is full of surprises. And so it was that I took an incredibly bumpy (and quite hilarious) bus ride up to the Himalayas, where I’ve started the next phase of my Indian journey. I was given a shared apartment above a family home in the small village of Rakkar, about 15 Kilometres north of Dharmshala and was introduced to all of my team members, who I’ve come to love for their incredible generosity and for all of their quirks, which make my Himalayan experience equally surreal and comedic.

 

I work at Jagori Grameen, a feminist organization dedicated to the facilitation of leadership and empowerment of youth, women and marginalized farmers in rural Himachal Pradesh.  My colleagues are a mixture of international volounteers, social activists from across the nation, and local village girls and boys dedicated to the Jagori cause. It’s a dynamic work environment which has its deficiencies (which NGO doesn’t?) but also has an incredible spirit. I’ve spent 2.5 weeks in this setting and I already feel more fulfilled than I have ever felt in the last 4 months.  It’s an intense, very cold, sometimes alienating experience that I’ve dived face first into. I can’t wait for the next 3 months of work here. I’ve already begun a rather difficult village library project that I’m anxious to get off the ground.

The work environment of Jagori aside, being in the Dharmshala area is itself fascinating. Surrounded by an incredible mixture of local Pahari communities, international tourists and activists, as well as large clusters of Nepalis and Tibetans, the cultural fusion going on here is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.  The bizarre manifestation of spirituality and socio-cultural cleavage between Tibetans and Indians is, for instance, all too apparent during the dark of the night – when alcohol and drugs are floating around like candy and relationships between foreigners and locals far transcend established conventions of social behaviour. By contrast, the increasing prominence and popularity of monasteries, nunneries, Thangka art Institutes, Tibetan markets and Dalai Lama teachings alongside existing Nepali and Himachali art and artifacts gives the place an incredible diversity during the day.  

I am still trying to understand the intricacies of the place but so far, it’s been an incredible experience; my body is adjusting to the consistent temperature fluctuations and the intense physical exertion as my mind tries to take in the socio-cultural complexity that surrounds me. 

Picture this: a small coffee shop style eatery in McLeod Ganj, the Tibetan  and tourist hub about 5 Kilometres North of Dharmshala, sharing its space with an internet café, adorned with crisp furniture and flat screen TVs, specializing in Tibetan and Italian delicacies as well as amazing herbal teas, and playing Indian film music like it’s not strange at all. This is one among many bizarre and yet fascinating aspects of the Dharmshala area that I’m just starting to explore.  I hope I can get the time to reflect and write more often while I’m here.  Maybe then I’ll get to share with you some of my unique experiences riding the big orange ‘Raju Bus’ to and from work, spending time with my very special colleagues and new friends, and experiencing Jagori on my own. It should be quite the thrill ride.

Until my next ‘stop and think’ moment.