Contrast

I know I will be asked to describe India. How was it? What is it like? I already hear the questions looming.

To capture a year of experiences, a life lived in a new place is a challenge in itself. But, trying to capture a whole counrty and hundreds of years of history and civilization by describing a year in one tiny corner of the country will be defeating. All I can offer is my own limited experiences, albeit fulfilling and life-enriching ones.

I might attempt to depict India as a land of extremes. The striking sun clashing with the pounding rains. Arguably one of the most ecologically prized landscapes, dotted with piles of waste. An elephant working beside a bulldozer. A bullock cart beside a Land Cruiser. Never have I seen the juxtaposition between the haves and have-nots so strikingly obvious. The highest and the lowest placed one next to the other. Where neighbors coexist with great dichotomy—a grand estate flanked by a tiny colony of umbrella dwellers. Here, you will find hospitality like you’ve never seen. Simultaneously, a class system pervades the social structure and, albeit a Hindu construct, continues to dictate the underpinnings of the Church.

Contrasts. A concrete one room house with dirt floors and a family hovered around a television. Emaciated and corpulent. No scraps wasted; no scraps used. The same stick used by the same teacher to both hit a child and also affectionately tease a child.

Contradictions. Watching a highly educated and established woman belittled and berated by her husband. Seeing a family home broken apart in order to provide for the demands for a daughter's new family. Finding a place that is legendary for its natural health therapies suddenly inundated with imported processed foods. The politics and culture of an infant country (such as America) influencing the very livelihood of the people in a country with such an ancient and rich heritage (such as India).

Interestingly, one of the greatest contrasts I have learned in the year is the perception of my country and that that is my country. Stepping into a new place, you learn about your own. You learn that no country has it perfect. No country has it right. No country has the authority to dominate another. And, no country or people can be generalized or described in a matter of words.