On Sat, Oct 22, 2011 at 3:57 PM, Udhay Shankar N <[email protected]> wrote: > Interesting piece. I know a few people who decided to return to > (usually) the US after the Return To India didn't go as well as they > wanted, but this is an interesting way of putting it. > > Udhay > > http://india.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/10/22/why-i-left-india-again/
> A month later, we were back in California. > > But then the metaphors started to fade and the daily grind set in. I > stopped noticing India’s newness, oldness and juxtapositioned-ness. > Within weeks, I had joined the honking swarm driving in Bangalore. I > knew a guy who could repair anything from my daughter’s talking Barney > to our Bose Wave radio. I could sweet-talk an auto-rickshaw driver into > not fleecing me (even though I was Kannada-challenged). Everything felt > familiar, normal, unremarkable, as it should be; I was in India. > > That’s when it started going wrong. > > Three months after our return, after a friend told me that his two > children were sick with amoebiasis—he thought they got it from their > maid—my wife and I designated a separate set of dinnerware for our > maids. It’s more hygienic. > > Within six months, I’d brusquely refused my driver an emergency loan of > 500 rupees ($10) to attend his grandmother’s funeral. I’d learned my > lesson after our previous driver scammed me into paying for his son’s > broken leg (as it turned out, he had no son). It only encourages them to > ask for more; besides, they’re all liars. > > Near the first anniversary of our return, I had my first road-rage > incident: I verbally abused a hawker who was blocking the road. I’m not > going to let bullock-cart India make my daughter late for her school > admission test. > > The hawker glared but scampered away, the road cleared, and, as I walked > back to my car, I saw something new and disturbing in my driver’s eyes: > respect. I don’t know how my daughter felt because I couldn’t look her > in the eye. > > Was this even a real problem? Make your peace; it is how it is. At the > end of a long phone call to my mother in Pune, she said, “Don’t think so > much. Just work hard and you can get whatever you want.” > > But I never doubted what I could get; I hated what I was becoming. > > I struggled, I regressed, I improved, I tried learning from > others—except so many seemed (to me, not to them) worse off: an > offensive Sardar joke here (even the kids laughed), a not-so-subtle > inquiry about my caste (I’m still furious with myself for answering), > tips on how to keep our maid “in her place”— it just didn’t stop. Et tu, > airplane India? > i have a friend of such a profile in India (who hasnt yet gone back to california, but will do so, only a matter of time ... ). the last time i visited india, i noticed some odd things about him: * he does not drive in india (too scared he told me, but he used to before he went, he was horrified that i was driving myself ). * he is somehow irritated by beggars and street kids, because they don't fit in his vision for how things should be. * he has a baby whose diapers were being washed in mineral water (some kind of fear of diarrohea or contracting something). * his other 7 year old kid spoke only english and not any other language to me it isnt clear why exactly he chose to come back, there is no mention of extended family (so that was perhaps not a motivation ) -- it seems more like he wanted a miniature california but with friendly servants and chauffeurs ... or maybe the motivation to "give something back" ? he doesnt know what he wants.
