The Sound and the Curry

DISCLAIMER: These aren't generalizations. They are observations, some substantial enough to formulate scientific theory.

1. Gum Thriftiness. My father has always taught me the art of saving. I print on old paper, I rarely wash my jeans, and I use Tupperware. I also only eat half-pieces of gum. Unless it is Diwali, a birthday, or New Year's, no one gets a full piece. My father thinks I waste a lot by eating half-pieces; I have been a bit spoiled by my American upbringing. When there is a strong need, he distributes one-fourth to each of us.


2. Animals. There have been times in my life when a potentially fun night has been ruined by the flu, by train delays, by last minute papers. The second night we spent in Rajasthan, on the Bharat Yatra trip, could have been a crazy night of reckless youths were it not for the herd of stampeding buffalo that ran us out of the streets. We had had enough of the wild evening and after some time (during which we conversed with locals and got out hearts beating at a normal pace) we retired to our hotel.

3. More Animals. At one point in Rajasthan we were stopped at an intersection. Quite frankly, I am not sure if it were actually a designated intersection or traffic was just going in all four directions. I looked out the window only to find the epitome of biodiversity waiting patiently beside our tour bus. There was a camel, a stray dog, and a cow, all among the scooters, the rickshaws, the buses, and the people riding bicycles barefoot. Of course, the cow had the right of way.

4. Bowel movements. No matter where in the world he's settled, the Indian will freely, without moral or social compunction, engage in discussion, deliberation, debate of his digestive system. Diarrhea has the potential to bond or to break. It is not uncommon for relationships to form from a shared bout of constipation--one thing leads to another, and while you're busy not shitting, you make some beautiful friends. My grandmother has crafted philosophies based upon daily fecal patterns. If a person doesn't do his business every morning, he creates heat in the body, which in turn affects his mental state, and thus leads to high blood pressure, short tempers, and obscurity of thought.

Indians can be very real, very authentic; everyone knows shit happens, and there's no need to hide it.

5. The Sound and the Curry. Meals are events. There are pots clanging, flames raging, people yelling. Always people yelling. We yell so that people eat, so that they take seconds, so that they don't be shy; they yell to convince everyone of their small appetites, to encourage others to take seconds, to then dispel the lies spread of their minimal appetites by inquiring about dessert. There is a desperation to share, to make sure the visiting relatives have tried the ingenius foods of the New World (i.e., Pinkberry, Taco Bell); and in the midst of this desperation and excitement, the actual food is forgotten, and everyone concludes that the cuisine in America pales in comparison to the wealth of spices, colors, textures of cuisine in India.

6. Frindles. If it sounds right, it probably is a word. Phrases are made up for people with big noses, small cheekbones, skinny arms, fat ankles. Everything in Gujarati, especially, is rooted in an onomatopoeia. Sometimes, even if it phonetically is inconsistent with reality, if it is fun to say, it will pass. Monkeys say "hookla" and frogs say "chow chow." I say nothing, staring at the ceiling in silence for answers.

More to come.