Introduction

"If I were asked under what sky the human mind has most fully developed some of its choicest gifts, has most deeply pondered on the greatest problems of life, and has found solutions, I should point to India" Max Mueller

An exotic land of spiritual intoxication or a dumping collective of dust, spit, and trash? A people known for its vibrant colors and rich traditions or an uneducated bunch with outdated rituals? A country that boasts increasing economic developments or a nation where the majority of its population continue to live under the poverty line? What is India? More importantly, what does it mean to be Indian? Mark Twain names India as the “cradle of our human race” as Swami Vivekananda even takes it a step further to say that behind the words of every Indian idea there is peace. In post colonial India where Western media imprints lasting influences, do those descriptions still hold true?

For me, the divide between what defines India has always been gauged by contradictory stereotypes and undecipherable paradoxes. Year after year, I would come to this place where everything was possible and nothing was possible. It was a place where some people slept on Egyptian cotton and sipped from Baccarat while others sprawled on the streets and drank from muddied shot glasses. In villages, I observed an incredible display of hospitality and warmth toward strangers while in public places there was a blatant disregard for any consideration with respect to obeying any rule or order. It is a place where Rajasthan is colorfully decorated with thousands of ornate palaces where kings ruled, while most cities are peppered with blue tarp constructions where millions of slums are housed.

After 25 years, I grew accustomed and finally comfortable to an India with multi-faceted aspects and visiting India for short periods at a time made it easy to adjust myself accordingly. My friends were always shocked when they found out how much I loved India. “But it’s so dirty and everything smells like BO and pollution!” they would wrinkle their noses in disgust. “You have to pee in a hole!” another would exclaim in horror. I shrugged with genuine apathy. Coming to India for the holidays were always filled with action packed agendas of lunches, shopping, teas, and dinners with a streaming number of family and friends. The days were whirlwinds full of nonstop social events and though we had a blast, we found ourselves so ready to get home to our Ninja Turtles cereal bowls with milk and cookies. This explains how those few weeks of vacation allowed me to strike the perfect balance between loving India and not wanting to kill myself. If our programs hadn’t been rearranged for the millionth time that day, sitting in traffic was what ultimately consumed most of our day. Or perhaps it was despite my mother having the amazingly good sense to pack cheerios, mac n cheese, and goldfish crackers for certainty of Indian food being more than we could handle, we would still long for Taco Bell and other American childhood staples.

I thought about living in India as nothing more than an afterthought- with idealism and naivety. That is, until my boyfriend told me that he had to move to India to develop an entrepreneurial dream- a business that would not only profit, but that would be able to create an educational impact on the lives of bright and aspiring Indian students. I made the decision to join him in India after a three month long stint of interning with the United Nations defending a war criminal (save that for another post) and long story short, I wound up in this social, cultural, political and economic anomaly.

My blog intends to uncover the different layers of India seen by its inhabitants and tourists and to delve into the cultural substance of what is India and how its evolution has facilitated its current state of being. Stay tuned!