Back in urban land...

Today, after almost four months, is my first day back in Bombay.    

Volunteering in India was something I always wanted to do after working at Vatsalya Boy's Shelter in 11th grade.  Although, I thought it would no different to other things I've always wanted to do like go backpacking around the world or travel to antarctica, never going to actually happen (in this lifetime at least).  November, last year was the first time I finally built up the courage to think about it seriously.  I remember I had a few criterias : it had to be cold, because it was cold hopefully it would be lacking in bugs, and preferably there would be western toilet facilities.  So with these few things in mind, I first decided on a program in Darjeeling.  I even went as far as meeting with the organisation head in Brussels.  After that, I'm not quite sure what happened, but somehow I ended up in a HOT Rajasthani desert with not only loadsss of bugs but scorpions, snakes, rats etc, with definitely no western toilet facilities in the entire town.  If you ask me now, I definitely would have had it no other way.  

This was a short chapter of my life in comparison to others, but probably one of the most rich in terms of learnings, changes and experiences.  It definitely didn't seem like a big deal to me while I was in Bagar, but returning to bombay; back to AC land, no bugs and where everything is suddenly taken care of for me, it really hit me what an achievement the simple act of surviving was.  

It's so easy to slip back into luxury and ease of life, that it's making me extremely restless, and unable to enjoy the comfort and being back with family.  Am I supposed to do something differently?  Am I already losing everything I gained from this experience?  Will the memories and learnings fade quickly like most others do?  If yes, how can I retain them...?  How can I even pinpoint the essential elements I want to retain?  

It's difficult to relate my experience to anyone back here... which adds to my frustration and restlessness...  After the simple, usual questions and comments about my tan and my change in weight, most people run out of questions to ask or comments to make.  It is unfair to lay the blame on them, as I run out of ways to explain and convey my experience in a way that may appeal to them.  While I have went through, seen and learned many new things, most others have been living their lives, with not much change, and therefore how can I expect them to change?  Maybe I shouldn't try so hard and accept the fact that the only people who will be able to relate to me regarding this chapter are those who shared it with me, and be at peace with that fact.  

It was a process settling into the lifestyle in Bagar and will definitely be a process settling in mentally to life back in the urban world.  With that in mind, I hope to continue this blog.  One thing that Bagar has taught me, is too look at things and experiences through different perspectives, with more questions and an open mind.  Although life back here might be back to normal, with little to write about, hopefully my change in mindset will see past what I saw before and reveal something interesting even in the most 'normal' instances.  

 

Lost Generation

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=42E2fAWM6rA&feature=player_embedded

Great Video...!

Empowering Me

As part of our initiative to encourage entrepreneurship in Bagar, we are advising a guy who aspires to sell cattlefeed in his village.  After he completed his primary research about the product, it was our responsibility as potential funders to verify all his information.  Therefore a few days ago, two of us visited Chidawa, the location of his potential supplier, to ask around about cattlefeed.  Although having done some research, my knowledge in the area of cattle anything, as you can imagine, is quite limited (ie. non-existent).  Despite this, my Cypriot colleague and I head out to see what we could learn.

Chidawa is a significantly larger village / town in comparison to Baggar and, unlike Baggar, everyone doesn't know everyone and we, in fact, knew no one.  So got off the bus and headed towards the supplier.  Walked into this random cattlefeed shop, introduced ourselves, our purpose and awkwardly wondered how to proceed. Being the only one who could speak Hindi from the two of us, I was obliged to take the lead on the discussion.  Not only was I feeling extremely uncomfortable, but having been brought up in the rush of the western world, I seriously doubted this guy would waste his time answering my questions.  I was hesitant to start conversing with him in the fear that he might express disinterest and shoo me off. 

Left with no real choice, I started asking questions from the list we had prepared.  Initially, the Indian businessman 'I'm so busy, throwing out orders to random people for no real reason but to show my authority, doing you a favor by wasting my time with you' seriously intimidated me.  However as I persisted with question after question, I saw that inside the tough, confident exterior was this really bored dude who was quite entertained by the novelty and attention that we, foreigners, had attracted by coming into his shop.  His answers to my questions got longer and longer and longer, and soon enough I had make very little effort for the conversation to continue.  

After listening to his life history, we finally thanked him and left.  Walked around for a bit, before entering the next cattlefeed supplier, ten minutes away from the other one.  Having learned more about the product and a little more confident in starting random conversations, I didn't feel as awkward here.  Following the same procedure, the questioning began.  The combination of seeing a white guy standing in the middle of Chidawa market and me (a woman in the midst of a conservative society), asking questions about cattlefeed, attracted all kinds of people.  And well in India, when one person stops to watch, suddenly curiosity overcomes busy lives and everyone follows.  So, in no time, we had an entire circle of people, shamelessly watching.  Again feeling extremely conscious, it was difficult for me to ignore the stares and whispers and continue working.  So with a boost of some confidence, I stopped looked around and said really loudly "what happen?  Today everyone has time to enjoy the show?" (in Hindi of course).  Embarrassing half of them and making the other half laugh, they all dispersed almost immediately.  I felt quite empowered.  

I compare myself to who I was in Antwerp / London, always a little cautious when talking to strangers.  Always embarrassed to attract attention, in a constant fear of judgement regardless if I know the crowd or not.  Never proactive in conversing with others, always wondering if I said the right thing or not.  This experience, amongst millions in my time at Bagar, has empowered me.  Made me less scared of people, realising that this fear only arises from your own lack of confidence.  The irony lies in the fact that, as an volunteer at GDL, it's part of my role to empower others in the community, whether by speaking to women, by playing with children or by advising youth entrepreneurs, however in ten days I will leave here feeling significantly empowered myself.

The last place we went to, the man looked at us and said 'Sorry, I don't have time, I'm not interested', bluntly and rudely.  If this had been the first place I had gone to, I would have felt disheartened and probably given up.  I smiled politely, probably leaving him feeling a little guilty while I walked away unaffected...

The "Credit Crisis"

In desperate need for a cold, refreshing drink after spending the majority of the afternoon in the scorching, hot sun, I walk across the street to buy myself a Pepsi.  After a few sips of blissful, sweet, cold, I search my jhola (that's what they seem to call my purse here) for my wallet.  But of course, I forgot it at home.  'Koi baath nahi, kal dede naa (don't worry, give it to me tomorrow)'.  Embarrassed that I had to leave without paying, I make sure I go back the next day to pay.  It didn't take me long to realise that this was perfectly acceptable here.  As businessmen know their customers personally, giving credit is expected, maybe even required.  

How can small businesses, shops, services in Bagar even compete with the facilities and choice in Jhunjhunu, Chidawa, and even Jaipur?  Yes, Bagar may be closer, however people can easily travel the short distances for a good or service.  Credit, according to me, is one of the most significant USPs for many businesses in Bagar.  Customers are often are not able to pay the full amount all at one time and so what can be better than being able to purchase a good or service on credit, with no interest, through personal contacts.  The question is; when does it become too much credit? i.e. the 'Credit Crisis'.  

As part of the initiative to encourage entrepreneurship in Bagar, we have been helping several entrepreneurs start and establish their businesses.  One of them is an 18 year old boy, Sushil, who aspires to sell computers in villages.  This is not quite a start-up as Sushil has already located suppliers in Jaipur whom he works with and has sold quite a few computers to customers in the past years.  Our aim is to make this less of an in house thing to do in his free time, and develop a professional, operating business.  

The largest problem Sushil faces in sustaining the business is the issue of credit.  Villagers cannot pay for computers in one installment, because if they could they would go to Jhunjhunu's or Jaipur's computer showroom and purchase one on the spot.  Sushil ends up spending the majority of this time chasing after people.  As most of his customers are family, friends or friends of family, an added complication arises by having to balance the personal and professional aspects of the situation.  

This business has significant potential, as the demand for computers in the villages is increasing quickly.  Credit is one of Sushil's strongest USPs, but simultaneously the one factor that has prevented growth.  To be able to expand and flourish in line with demand, Sushil will have to overcome this fundamental issue.  Is there a solution to this 'Credit Crisis'?  A solution where Sushil can provide credit, but simultaneously encourage / force customers to pay their installments on time?  

Chalta Hain...?

After the horrific bombings in Bombay's last November, as the leader of the state, what did Vilasrao Deshmukh do?  He ran to the Taj Hotel, like any good leader... HOWEVER not to see the damage, the carnage, the loss of so many innocent lives, the injustice of this horrendous act, but to make sure that his son, rising bollywood star Ritesh Deshmukh, plays the lead role in the next 'super-hit' movie directed by the one and only Ram Gopal Varma.  His deputy, RR Patil, further depicts the concern aroused by this incident, by making a bold public statement; 'such small incidents happen in big cities'.  This, unfortunately, also happens 'only in India'.

 

It is this attitude amongst the Indian population that represses this country from attaining its full potential... the 'chalta hain' attitude.  If the leaders, supposedly acting role models, of the entire state have openly exercised this attitude to dismiss one of the most shocking, tragic incidents in India's history, how can the common people be blamed? 

Time never seems to be a concern here.  I plan and push for children to come to painting class by four fifteen, but inevitably the class never seems to start before four forty at the earliest.  At four five, I have rely on a neighborhood kid to go door to door and call the rest, who waddle in one by one just woken up from their afternoon slumber.  At first, I felt offended and annoyed that they didn't take this seriously enough to be punctual and prepared.  After numerous classes, I have come to realise, it is the simple fact that these kids do not understand 'on time'.  I may sound like a hypocrite being the one to criticize lateness, as punctuality is definitely not something I can brag about (being a 'mehta' and all).  However, I do recognize it as a vice, whereas here tardiness is socially acceptable, if not expected...'chalta hain'.  

It makes me wonder if the two societies, I have been exposed to, are operating on two extremes? In one, time runs people's lives.  We schedule phone calls, meetings, social occasions, 'free' time, sleep all according to time, and live organized lives, leaving almost no room for spontaneity.  The other runs on sentiments, feeling sleepy...then go to sleep...feel like eating...eat but lacks order and planning.  One sucks out the sentiments, the 'feeling' from our lives while the other due to lack of foresight, hinders any substantial development.  Is it possible to find that balance and maintain it in either society?

Procrastination and lack of foresight are other traits hindering development.  Along with never planning according to time, it seems like the population only seem to think short term.  Exams ended in May, if I enquired about their summer plans in June and July, rarely did any provide a response, rarely were they worried...exams are first... summer plans 'chalta hain'.  Wanting to start a business and need funding, they ask the family friend next door to loan them some money... how will they pay it back?  No clue.  What marketing technique will be utilized? How much income will they need to maintain to sustain this business and pay off debt?  What type of customers will they mainly target?  How much are the monthly expenses?  What are goals for the business?  Questions of this nature may even confuse them.  Most of them feel that there is no need for so much planning...Sab 'chalta hain'.  

Being here, I have understood and come to peace with the fact that it is difficult to PLAN anything.  You can plan out as many routines as you want but if that routine lasts even a week, it will feel like an achievement.  I often go to someone's house and plan to stay for an hour, but find it absolutely impossible to leave before three hours have passed.  I plan to finish writing something in an hour, then coincidentally the electricity goes off and I cannot use my computer delaying the process. It is very difficult to exercise discipline and routine.  However, having said all this, I do recognize the importance of a goal.  This goal can keep changing and adapting to new situations, experiences or events, hence changing the plan, but it provides direction.  It provides a direction for an individual to focus and concentrate his / her energy.  The youth population is often without direction and guidance and therefore lack drive and determination to achieve their full potential... 'chalta hain'.  

But no...NAHIN 'chalta hain'.  If the population of this country operating on 'chalta hain' attitude, wake up one day with the epiphany that this is not necessary how it should work, they will be half way there to achieving full potential.  

Are we our own enemy?

I've always believed that men are the biggest obstacle in letting women chase their dreams and achieve success.  Restrictions, rules, laws, curfews, compromise, adjustment, etc are all placed on women and they are often forced to wind around them or argue their way through them to achieve a lot of the things they have.  According to me, it is futile to analyse who or what has instigated the creation of these restrictions, but instead more relevant to understand who and why, amongst many people, are these restrictions still enforced?

This thought came to me while I was at Meena's house in one of the poorer neighborhoods in Bagar.  Meena is a twenty year old girl who had to leave school after her ninth grade due to insufficient funds in the family to get her through her education.  Instead the family decided it was more important to educate her two older brothers through a master's degree.  No shock there, seen it in movies, read it in books, apparently happens all the time.  Meena, herself however, is still one of the most ambitious, talented girls I have met throughout my trip in Bagar.  She, even though at home all the time, works long hours.  A little before leaving school, she learned how to stitch.  She stitches salwar suits, lenghas, saris, shirts, anything really.  Through her small set of contacts in the neighborhood, she has started a small business of tailoring.  It's a small business, with very few clients, but with her tiny, hand run sewing machine it takes almost twice as long to complete something a normal sewing machine would take.  Still, all day she stitches, with that helps out at home, cooking, cleaning, takes care of her one year old niece etc. etc.  

Ironically, she's the only one in the family who has any sort of 'steady' income.  Her two brothers, even having studied, are struggling to find work and are bringing in very little.  Her father, after giving up a great job in a nearby village, retired and without planning, carelessly used up all the retirement money.  'I'd like to take care of at least my own expenses within the family if not others' (she said to me - in hindi of course).  An ambition and hope that many women in large cities wouldn't dream of doing, forget in the village.  

As part of our entrepreneurship project, she was an ideal candidate to help.  Not only was she keen, sharp and willing, she also had a great skill which simply had to be implemented in a business environment.  First obstacle, she was not allowed to attend the business course.  Although her father had warmed up to the idea of her attending these classes, her mother could not have been more opposed.  The idea of Meena walking (even if we came to pick her up everyday) all the way to the class, in the heat, with no other local girls with her, was absurd.  'Kya business business ... ladkiya yeh sab nahin kadthi'  (what business, girls don't do all this).  I was just amazed, that despite the financial trouble her family was going through, despite the fact that she had already been running a business in the house, her mother did not even want to listen to this idea.  

Fine, next time I went to visit, I suggested that I would personally come to her house, teach her the basics and help her implement the ideas to expand her clientele.  If things went well in increasing awareness, we could invest in a new sewing machine and from there increase productivity.  Again, her dad seemed to think it was a good idea.  Mom, however, still wouldn't hear it.  'What will happen if people find out she is running a business here???  This is not appropriate for girls to do!  People cannot find out all over town that she is stitching for others'.  Why is it that 'others' and 'people' always matter so much?  Here Meena was, the only earning member of the house and still her mother did not understand the unique qualities she possessed.  Instead she was trying to hide these qualities and suppress her potential, in attempt to conform with the rest.  What she didn't realise is that their situation was fundamentally much too unique to conform anyway.  

It really made me wonder ... who really poses as the obstacle against women these days?  Isn't it usually women themselves?  Ekta Kapoor wasn't a complete fool when creating the K series episodes filled with women drama, that admittedly are over exaggerated and often mindless but may actually have been inspired by some truth.  It also made me think of myself and the fact that I am actually in Bagar, this rural village in the middle of 50 degrees of heat in Rajasthan.  Would I have been here if the decision was going to be taken only by the female members of my family...?  I don't think so.  It is still difficult for them to really understand what in the world I'm trying to achieve by living in basic conditions, in the extreme heat, in the middle of a desert with random villagers.  Admittedly, it's difficult for anyone to understand.  Although, if it wasn't for the male members who were part of the decision making process, I probably wouldn't have been here.  Historically, it may have been the male that suppressed women.  Recently however, it seems that women themselves, directly or indirectly, restrain their own kind.    

Unfortunately, Meena's mother won, just like all women do in Ekta Kapoor's dramas.  The feeling of guilt is left with me for showing this lovely, talented girl a short glimpse of success, raising her hopes to a better life, but not being able to help her achieve it. 

Stuck in the box...

Just recently, I have started art classes for children between nine and twelve in a neighborhood called Pahadi Mohallah (right next to where I live).  I know what most of you might be thinking, me (the physics / maths geek) teaching ART of all things, it's more likely to be the other way around.  To be honest it's less of an official, technical art class and more a medium for the children here to be imaginative and 'think out of the box'.  

Contrary to most of my elementary schooling experience, creativity and innovation is hardly encouraged in schools here.  Children seem to be told what to do with strict instructions and hardly any room for personal input.  How did I assume this?  My first class I gave the kids a piece of paper and color pencils and the only instructions I gave them was 'draw anything you can see'.  This ranged from an ant crawling around next to them to the clouds in the sky.  Half an hour later, walking around the room, more than half the children still had a blank white paper and a very confused expression.  Some of them came up to me every five minutes to ask me what they should draw and were kind of distraught by my lack of substantial response.  Finally, to get any kind of art on paper, I had to sit with each of them individually and talk them through the options of what they could draw.  

Not only was this some kind of learning experience for them, it was definitely a learning experience for me.  The half an hour in which I refused to provide any guidance and was adamant to see them use their imagination, a lot of them felt lost and it seemed to upset them that were not capable of pleasing me.  This, according to me, is a second large flaw in their attitude.  The artwork or any work that is done, shouldn't be done to please me but in fact for their self satisfaction.  

Not only do I see this lack of creativity in children, but this same trait seems to be a big challenge in our project to encourage entrepreneurship for the youth in Bagar.  After completing their degrees, BSc, MSc, BA etc, they usually want to find a stable job, which will pay a specific monthly salary with very limited scope to grow.  Being creative, taking initiative and 'thinking out of the box' to start their own business is not something they find attractive or even completely comprehend.  Ironically, when explaining the idea of a start-up, some of these youths look just as distraught as the 10 year olds in my painting class.  

I believe that in situations as these education is not encouraging but hindering personal growth and success in the young community here.  They have almost been trained to stop experimenting and even stop THINKING and simply adhere to the rules that are given, just like solving a maths or physics problem.  Ironically, the previous generation, despite their lack of education, seem to be more capable of successfully running a house than their children, as they were most likely FORCED to 'think out of the box' during their youth for basic needs.  Their children now, highly educated with a MSc in physics, maths and chemistry are incapable of taking what their parents have built and expanding or even running it.  They fail to understand the scope of growth and the potential success, but rather prefer to apply year after year to get a position in the army.  Why? The army has rules, the army has a salary, the army guarantees that salary, the army has someone telling you what to do and there is no requirement or need to 'think out of the box'.  

The three extremely successful business families, Piramals, Maheshwaris and Roongtas, all began their establishments in tiny Bagar and since then have built a myriad of educational institutions throughout the village to promote youth education.  However the question remains have these educational institutions indirectly slowed down the youth's growth and success and in turn left them at stand still instead? 

Family away from family....

Family through birth is god's gift to individuals to help get through the journey of life.  Finding the love of a family outside of this just feels like a miracle.  This is a picture of a family (well nearly the entire family) in a nearby village (Khudana) whom I have grown extremely close to over my time here.  It's the kind of house I can enter at anytime I want for no particular reason, just sit and immerse myself into whatever they are doing, whether it is filling the water tank with water from the well, cooking lunch, eating lunch or taking an afternoon nap (always up for this one)...:-)

Home...?

'Home' is an ambiguous word.  What do people refer to as home and how and when does that change?  Is it where my parents live?  Is it where I shower and sleep?  Is it the city in which I work?  Is it where I have the most clothes in the cupboard?  The place I pay rent?  Where I know most people?

Having moved seven houses and four cities in these past 5 years, it's difficult to define the word 'home'.  People here are often surprised when I say 'I'm going home' or 'See you at home' in reference to GDL, especially as most of them having been here much longer, still would never refer to GDL as 'home'.  Whereas I, instinctively, have begun to refer to this little compound in the middle of this random village in rural Bagar, as home.

It's interesting to see the unique reasons for a place to transform into 'home' for individuals.  However it's often difficult to pinpoint and define the exact elements that are required for this transformation.  I guess in my case, although this is 'home' far away and SIGNIFICANTLY different from any other home, GDL still instills a feeling of physical/mental comfort and safety.  Simply my willingness and maybe even excitement to return to this gated square area every evening seems to be an amazing enough miracle to be able to call GDL 'home'.     

 

PUBLIC transport....

Having lived a pretty sheltered life, I am still (at 23 shockingly) at a point where traveling by public transport ironically feels like a privilege whether in London, in Belgium and definitely in India.  My view of Indian public transport was limited to peering out of my car window in Bombay at a red double decker bus tilted about 30 degrees from the vertical overflowing with people, always JUST about to topple over... but miraculously never quite reaching that tipping point. (It's all about physics really... :-)).  

In Bagar, however, I have managed to get to the inside... Bus has now become THE mode of transport and I had my first train experience on Friday from Jhunjhunu (closest town to Bagar) to Jaipur.

Starting from the beginning...... the planning.  What train should we get?  What time?  So standard procedure... type into www.google.com, 'train times Jhunjhunu to Jaipur' and find the fastest and cheapest route, pay with credit card, book seats online, print them out and you are good to go!!!  You think that works?  No way... as most things in India, even train times are found through heresay and contacts.  Someone I knew called someone he knew who spoke to someone he knew in Jhunjhunu to ask him what times these trains leave.  After getting that information, we had to now tackle the second issue of how do we get to Jhunjhunu?  Of course... bus.  When do these buses leave? Lord knows... all about trying your luck... go with the flow.   Turns out our luck was pretty good.  Not only did we make our bus by 5 minutes, we also caught the train JUST 2/3 minutes before it departed.  Good start to the journey ahead.  

  

At this early stage in the day, the train was fairly empty... it was so peaceful, a type of peace that often seems lost in the crowd and traffic of daytime India.  Just trees, flowers, fields, sand, rhythmic sound of the train, neighbors snoring and the odd quiet chat between passengers.  This was still a part of the day where if I got off my seat for a brief half hour or fifteen minutes, I would still have it when I got back.  Best thing to do at times like this, get your ipod (not very rural... I know) put on some quiet slow music, go to the door of the train, hold on to the side railings really tight, plant your feet strongly on the ground and just lean out... so that your entire body except feet and hands are hanging out of the train and watch the sunrise...(was totally my friends idea...so no lectures for me please).  Although this definitely has to be on everyone's 'must do before I'm too old to move' list. 

Four hours in, this is when the true train experience began.  People began flowing in and out at all stations.  We were planted in our seats now... trying to stop from slowly slipping off the sides, as not two, but three, four, five people came and sat down right next to us.  Suddenly sixth person enters, and logically decides, no space I will just stand.  But no... this is rural India.  Promptly the man in front of me says 'bethho' and moves over a bit to reveal the seat not bigger than a slice of pizza.  Yeah right ... was what I thought ... but the guy gladly made his way to the slice and planted less than half his backside there... content and thankful.  To put it simply, it was kind of great.  

It made me think of the London tube.  How different the word PUBLIC in public transport was portrayed in the two places.  On the way to work every morning, the tube was PACKED with people, but besides the occasional 'mind the gap' announcement, it was silent.  People were staring at their copy of the Financial Times, Metro, novels, magazines, textbooks...etc etc.  In London, turning to the stranger next to me and starting a conversation seemed like an absurd almost illegal thing to do.  In fact, even when talking to someone you know, it was usually in whispers!  Why?  God knows.  Here there were probably like 7 different conversations flowing between the 15/20 people in the compartment and any one could be joined at anytime by anybody.  There was nothing illegal about me turning to my neighbor and playing with her adorable child.  What increased the noise level even more is this new craze of music on mobile phones.  There were probably like 3/4 different phones in the same compartment BLARING music from 'Mera Naam Joker' to 'Sean Paul'.  It didn't even seem to matter that they were all playing simultaneously and you couldn't actually even follow any one.  In the London tube, packed or not packed, unless you are a pregnant lady, nobody would give up or move over to give someone a space to sit down.  Doesn't matter if I was a 23 year old girl sitting on a seat while a 50 year old lady was struggling to hold on to the bars...first come, first serve.  Here, a perfectly healthy man who probably had the capacity to stand for hours, was offered a seat in an already much to crowded bench.  

What can I say except (as usual and once again)......only in India.  

Speeding...

... The law penalizes speeding cars, buses, trains, trams, bikes, motorbikes, bicycles... all in effort to slow people down.  Why do they however ignore the larger, more significant and, possibly, the most common 'speeding' committed by people today, speeding through life.  People always seem to be in such a rush.  Kids can't wait to be teenagers, teenagers are looking to hit 18, for 18 year olds nothing is better than finally turning 21, can't wait to get the first job, get married, buy the first flat, first child, GET RICH and sooner or later hit midlife and wonder....why the excitement to get there...?  People are rushed to leave for work in the morning but equally rushed to leave from work in the evening.  Others hurry to get to dinner on time but are then eager to finish dinner and get home at a decent hour.  People are disrupting the peace at Mandirs by pushing and shoving to get to the front to, ironically, pray for peace in their own lives.  It seems like the second law of thermodynamics (states that entropy - measure of chaos - always increases) doesn't only apply to the physical world around us, but also the social...so much chaos.  

Having been in rural India (Bagar, Rajasthan) for the past month and a half, I have decelerated, and brought my life speedometer down to a legal limit.  Suddenly, I value the time I have to look up at the sky every night and not only see, but recognize the stars.  Instead of running for shade when it starts pouring, it seems so much better to stand outside and enjoy the rain.  In all the rush, chaos, expectations, opportunities, people, conventions, stereotypes and absolute craziness around, it's only recently that I have been able to step aside, look at my position from a bird's eye view and just think... whether it's staring out the bus window or looking down at village lights from a high rock, these times of contemplation act like a key that is slowly unlocking myself to me (if that makes sense).  

On that note I present: Blah...Blah, a written record of my contemplations / ideas / thoughts / interests / incidents / reflections / passions / achievements / failures and anything else I feel like writing really... Ciao for now. 

Location of contemplation: Jhunjhunu's Rani Sati Mandir