The End of an Era...Adieu!

I've held back on my last post as I didn't want to jump in when the first two weeks back have been manic. It's been a bit weird to say the least. I amazingly made it back into Heathrow on the day my flight was scheduled (though postponed by 9 hours). Many others were stranded. On my arrival the ground was covered with snow which made for a very lovely Christmassy atmosphere and I was met by my parents who in their outstretched arms held a blanket and a warm flask of tea. It was good to be back.

But the first few days were odd. I had to eat about four bacon sandwiches over the first few days in order to satiate my cravings. I had to remember to put toilet paper into the loo and not in the nearest available wastepaper basket. I spent a lot of time emailing, calling friends and visiting. 

I had an odd moment when on Xmas eve I made a mad dash round a nearby town to see if I could get a last minute present for my brother which was a DVD he'd requested and I'd forgotten to get him. After visiting six shops I was forced to enter the ASDA. In a big nameless town in Essex, ASDA is the last place you want to be on Xmas eve. My senses were assaulted not by spices and horns beeping but an altogether different kind of mania. My companion pushed me stupified onto the travelator to get up to the first floor. Looking at my screwed up face she said yes it's full of common people in here isn't it? It wasn't the people it was the bananas. The veg aisles (note the plural) were stuffed full of enough produce to feed an rural Indian village for weeks. I hadn't seen anything like it for months. Then a woman's screechy voice with an undeniably Essex brogue screamed that the turkeys were half price and we should all rush to the meat counter to purchase her extra meat. Jeez. Coupled with the grabbing of merchandise going on around me, I nearly passed out at the cacophony of materialism going on inside the store.

At home I pretty much didn't leave the house for two days over Xmas and slowly returned to normality in the UK via the TV (there's one bonus of the old set you know). Well travelling Kerala and diving in The Andamans for three weeks helped too. I have since completed my rehabilitation and after two weeks in the UK I am settled right back in, I'm back to work and behaving normally. Well I say normal but I'm definitely more Indian now. I stand closer to people on the tube and personal space is less of an issue these days. I occasionally burp out loud and realise I am in so-called polite company. but at least the toilet paper goes where it is supposed to.

I'm looking forward to this year. I think bigger, I want another challenge, I have plans and I have new interests. It's all good and I'm still in contact with Deaf Way and VSO and here to assist with anything they need. The internet is a marvellous thing, eh? I miss my colleagues but I know I won't be losing contact with them. No need to be sad, I just gained some very good friends. Will I go back. Hell yes. In some way or another.

The other thing of note is I have enjoyed blogging and YouTubing immensely. It has sparked off a writing hobby and I now regularly turn my musings into short stories. I am putting a natural end to this blog in order to spend time on the world of fiction. 

To complete these musings, here are the things I wished I'd written about and didn't have time:

The shockingly high incidence of sexual abuse of Deaf children

The lack of a decent bilingual education for Deaf children

Rubbish, (the lack of proper) recycling and ragpickers

Climate change in India

The levels of corruption in the Government

The experience of practicing Buddhism in India (eye-opening)

Why people get involved in development work (cos we're lovely?)

How development work changes your perspective of life back home (it really does)

There are obviously many other things that never would have reached this medium but that's me to know and you to find out. For now...Adieu!

Lost Weekend: Finishing up in Delhi

Ok so it wasn't a lost weekend but where did it go? In fact the last 4 weeks just went. In training they tell you the last month of a VSO placement will be gentle. Tidying up loose ends, saying goodbye, eating cake. That sort of thing. Not here.

I was busy trying to squeeze in training for the Delhi Half Marathon (I haven't yet got sick of dropping that into conversations). I had a visitor over from the UK then I remembered the strategy plan for ASLI. There was the flat to finish up and furniture had to be sold and belongings packed. An unbelievable amount of stuff vomited itself out of my wardrobe and the flimsy cane bookshelves yielded a bumper crop of jewellery and brass Hindi mini-Gods. I started the clearance. There was four or so bin bags for VSO volunteers to rifle through. This is a benefit of someone leaving - you get hand-me-downs for your usually sparsely equipped cupboards. Judging by the amount I was getting rid of I must have done well over the last year. The remaining went to the cleaner and there was an inordinate amount of stuff to be posted and couriered back. Frightful. I clearly can not travel light.

After the house sale I had my leaving party. We made a profit from the goods we bought last year so that provided the beer for what was to be the last party in the house. Arun of ASLI/Deafway fame (i.e. the wonderful man I have had the pleasure to work with over the last year) provided the food and manned the barbeque in exchange for being fed with Kingfisher. The Deaf Way staff created amazing canapes and took over food preparations. I concentrated hard on drinking and saying my goodbyes. I had an amazing time and it was a wonderful send off after an unbelievable year.

It was back in the office on Monday after partying, moving out and dealing with a hangover of proportions not seen yet this year. I managed to finish some final bits and we had the obligatory pizza (Puneet, the IT and English teacher, was leaving too). After lunch I said my goodbyes and there it was. I blubbed. Totally unexpectedly. Anyone who has kept up to date on this blog will know how much I have enjoyed being here. And that is a gross understatement. I've lived, worked and breathed Delhi. Anyone who knows how dusty it is here can imagine the hardships I may have had to endure.

'Will you be back?' is the question du jour. I hope I have given some idea of how much the Deaf community is still being discriminated against here. Interpreting services are just one part. Education where sign language is virtually banned, not being allowed to drive, a total lack of equality when it comes to employment, no mental health services, a lack of academic sign language and interpreting qualifications...it goes on. I'll be offering any assistance I can from the ether. And I have some plans afoot but I'm not done in India just yet. It's all about the R&R and taking some time out to consider my next steps. It's the beach for me for now. 

How very Vipassana

Recently I went on a Vipassana meditation course. I was expecting 10 days of no speaking but as it sometimes happens in India what is supposed to happen just doesn’t. You can read about what should happen on fellow vol and friend Izzy’s blog! We both agreed I was a bit unlucky though in the end the result was pretty much the same.

I arrived at the centre and immediately hit it off with S. who like another 5 Western women on the course lived in Rishikesh and hung out learning all about yoga and other spiritual practices. We wondered if we’d be able to remain incommunicado for 10 days and we agreed we’d have to avoid eye contact. We drove out of town through the hills behind Dehradun and arrived at the centre. After Chai and chatting we proceeded to take instructions and started our silence.

Up at 4am the next morning we started the regime of 10 hours meditation a day which was to become strangely enjoyable after a few days. What was not so much fun though rather entertaining was one woman screaming in the mediation hall amidst the rest of us concentrating on our breath. This happened again on day 3. Also one elderly woman had been admitted who chatted to herself throughout and clearly wasn’t in a fit state to participate. On day 5 after the constant talking of some participants got to me I talked to the onsite doctor. I was informed the elderly woman was dropped off by her husband. With a lack of welfare services here he probably just wanted a form of respite care. By the end of the 10 days the women were all looking after her and I suspect she was suffering from Alzheimers.

The mediation went well despite the lack of silence. On day 5 I tried really hard to have a quiet day. It worked until 8:05am when 5 minutes into mediation the doctor passed me some decongestant pills I’d requested. Wait until perhaps I had my eyes open? Not here in India where rules are all so important but in reality always broken. Ho hum.

The evening of day 5 saw a change in the group dynamics when so much talking was going on the old Western students who had done courses in the US and Europe also gave up. We all happily talked to each other outside of meditation sessions in snatched conversations. One who understood more Hindi than I told me the screaming woman thought she had been possessed by demons and on day 3 they had left her body through her nose. By day 6 amongst the insanity I’d given up on silence too. A shame considering I was really enjoying any quiet time I actually got. By then I was getting it and we’d been given mediation cells in the pagoda on site. A relief as every time we had leafy greens for lunch the men would fart their way through the afternoon.

Around this time the hours of cross-legged concentration kicked in and clarity struck. Vipassana can reveal spooky sensations. Things come up from your past that you had forgotten. The smell of the local library’s highly polished floor at aged 8. The dress you wore when visiting the senior school on an open day at age 11. Amongst the inconsequential, the stuff you wanted to forget comes up. The idea is you meditate so deeply the feelings you dealt with using logic can be felt at a deeper level. The trick then is to deal with them at this level of subconscious and truly get rid of them. It sounds a bit pop psychology but it works. It's what makes 10 days of insanity all worth it. Each person has a unique experience and people who attend regularly report feeling differently each time. It’s reported that often people leave with a changed world view or a heightened perspective of the world. They’ve even tailored a special course for executives enabling people to rid themselves of pointless negativities and subsequently enhancing their performance. What is clear is only the brave or the mad do this but we all come out the better for it.     

 

Fever. In the morning, fever all through the night…

Out of 15 volunteers currently in Delhi, 7 have been struck down with mysterious fevers and illnesses. That’s nearly a whopping 50%. 

Dr H., our resident VSO doc must be chanting a new mantra: a volunteer a day keeps the bill collectors at bay. Although I like to think he doesn’t charge to see us VSOers as he is so lovely. One doctor he referred me to said that he’d retired and made his money so he was happy to help out those who were helping others. 

Of the 7 that have been struck down, we’ve had cases of Dengue (2), Chikungungya (1), unidentified fevers (3), a strange rash and unknown vomiting (2). No Malaria yet but it could just be a matter of time.

My fever came and went with joint pain in 24 hours. I was in Tamil Nadu. Back in Delhi three days later it came back with a vengeance and I couldn’t move my arm or see very well. I freaked out when one of my eye balls started clouding over and rang the doc in tears. Not very good at being ill me. He reassured me and I went in for a check the next day. Fever had dissipated and mobility in the arm had come back to the point where it was hard to tell I’d been ill apart from the clear lack of sleep.

I was sent off for 4,000 rupees worth of blood tests. That’s nearly £60! Hard to imagine when you’re used to the NHS. You can see how doctors and hospitals get accused of sending people off for random tests in order to make some extra cash. People tend to be in favour of a government hospital as although basic they tend not to overcharge. I say hospitals are basic but one volunteer here when admitted with Dengue had a plasma TV. I obviously don’t envy the Dengue though.

£60 later and I got to check my results on the internet within 12 hours. I called the doc and said I don’t know what it was then and he said, 'well neither do I!'. The mystery remains and thankfully it looks like I and my fellow vols here are all on the mend…

10 Down, 2 to go

As is usual on the old blog, I feel the urge to reflect on what has happened and what the coming months will bring. A VSO placement often feels like it is broken up into a few stages. There's the strange first three months, the last few and the long bulk of it in the middle. At 10 months in, it certianly feels like I've been here a while. Now I'm on the final stretch it's the right time to look back and more importantly look forward to what is to come.

I look back and in some ways I feel I’ve been here forever. I can’t remember what it’s like to walk into a Tesco’s and be confronted by a range of cheeses. The common thing that’s said about India is it’s an assault on the senses when you arrive: the colours, the smells, the noise and general chaos. Thing is after months of shopping at vegetable stalls and small shops when I get into a fully-stocked supermarket I think I might feel consumed by the smell of the bakery and overcome by the salamis. I’ll be freaking out at the choice. Once I’ve recovered there is a chance I’ll be shocked by all the consumerism and will never venture into such an establishment again.

Work wise I’m currently on the third interpreter training program and writing this from Coimbatore in South India. We’ve ran out of time to do course number 4 and 5 so ASLI will be doing this after I’ve gone. This means I need to ensure everything I need to do is completed before I go, everyone is happy with what they are doing and everything is sustainable by making sure any skills and knowledge have been passed on. I’ve seen the course develop over the months and I’m really happy with the progress we’ve made. I won’t be needed at the next now it’s all up and running. There’s no relaxing yet though as there’s a few more things to keep me busy until the end of November.

I’ve had my final placement review, I’ve started catching up on reporting, I’ve planned my last few working months, have a vague idea of where I want travel afterwards and I’ve booked my flight home. In the middle of all this reflection and the tidying up of ends I just want to get back. By the time I get there three of my friends will have new born babies and people keep emailing me amazing news. Before I came, friends and family all reassured me that nothing would change in a year. They all lied. As much as I love it here and want to come back, it’s time to finish what I came here to do, plan my future then go and see all the lovely folks back home.

Pics from:
http://www.billboardmama.com/wise-construction-c-4_30.html
http://www.flickr.com/photos/63695821@N00/1327862465

Bodhgaya: Finding some peace

After the delivery of the Kolkata interpreter training over 9 days including two weekends it was time for some R&R. I had one day to explore Kolkata with one of the volunteers there who showed me round. We had a laugh in the planetarium where the 70-something schoolmarm shouted at people if they had their mobiles on and told us that Pluto was no longer a planet and had been demoted. As India’s old capital city, Kolkata has a lovely historical feel to it and is certainly more cultured than Delhi which feels clinical and functional (or dysfunctional) in comparison. The Park Street cemetery was a little slice of calm and told of young British deaths due to Malaria and Typhoid. India is as mad as a box of frogs, what must have it have been like in the 1800’s?

After the whistle stop tour it was off to Bodhgaya for me and my friend who hadn’t been out of Kolkata for 6 months. A remarkable achievement for a place that although lovely was packed, had crazy traffic and few green spaces. Bodhgaya seemed a good choice as the site where Shakyamuni Buddha gained enlightenment under the Bodhi tree.

We arrived at Gaya and got an auto the 13km out to Bodhgaya through a few villages and fields. Ruralshire was a welcome sight. We found our guesthouse complete with some monks and sorted ourselves out after the night train. We discovered a tiny town with temples dotted along the sides of one main road. Monks mingled with mainly Indian tourists and the stalls were selling tourist tack. I’d heard reports this place had been ruined and after having breakfast in a dirty restaurant accompanied by cockroaches I’d wondered whether I was even going to like it here. The cheap eats we got at a Thai restaurant redeemed the place and the next day we had found a good travellers cafe and a quality dhaba for chai and chaat.

The reason for coming was confirmed once we entered the Mahabodhi temple complex. This Indian Buddhist temple was built by King Ashok to preserve and commemorate the site of the Bodhi tree. I’ve been practicing Buddhism over the last year or so but whether you practice or not you can really feel the power and serenity of the place. We sat under the tree with monks, lay Buddhists and tourists from all over Asia. Some meditated, some chanted, others sat in peaceful thought and contemplation. Over the three days we chatted to a few Sri Lankan Buddhists, sat under the tree with others and watched Korean Buddhists chanting with some monks.

The other temples in Bodhgaya all have different characteristics and decorations depending on their region. The Tibetan Karma temple had the most amazing depictions of Buddhist scenes such as the moment Buddha gained enlightenment. The main Tibetan temple had monks listening to a talk by the Dalai Lama and the Bhutanese one was atmospheric replete with a monk banging a drum and chanting. The Chinese temple took me back to travelling China last year with its script inside and the large stone dragons adorning the doors. The Japanese multi-denominational temple was peaceful and spacious with its understated wooden features and open spaces.

We saw many others but were drawn back to the main Mahabodhi temple every day as somewhere you could spend time in peaceful solitude. The town is similar to other Indian tourist spots with the hawkers selling tat and a willingness of some locals to rip off foreign tourists. Hey that’s just the downside of India. Another problem we had was being a few weeks ahead of the main tourist season we were two of only a handful of foreigners. We got rather more attention than we wanted with cameras thrust in our faces and being constantly asked where we were from. It was easier to escape inside the complex and take refuge. Apart from that, anyone spending time here in the presence of Buddhists cannot fail to feel peaceful and happy. Three days was enough to feel refreshed and get back to Delhi ready for a potentially painful visa extension process and preparations for the next interpreter training course.

Round 2: Interpreter Training in Kolkata

The first course was in Delhi and was our tester. This was Kolkata and this was for real. We had our Deaf trainer to lead the course for the first 2 days teaching Deaf history, community and culture delivering in Indian Sign Language (ISL) so clear and wonderful that most participants couldn’t take their eyes of him. After talking to our contacts we realised the impact we were already making. It seemed West Bengal had never seen sign language like it.

We had 13 people turn up who consisted of 4 members of staff from a Deaf organisation, 3 teachers of the Deaf, 3 parents and 3 people who already were interpreters. The staff of the organisation told us about a dire lack of services in the state for Deaf people. For example Kolkata has around 4 schools for the Deaf, all of which use the oral method of teaching, which means using speech not sign language. Famously in 1880 a conference of educators for the Deaf banned the use of sign language in schools. This was a decision which caused much discrimination and took education of the Deaf back to the middle ages. Anyone who is Deaf or works with Deaf people will tell you stories of Deaf children having their hands caned, tied behind their backs or sellotaped together. This is the equivalent of gagging someone. We happily reported that the ICED had formally rejected the 1880 resolution after 130 years opening up a new era for Deaf participation and respect for sign language in education. Two of the teachers of the Deaf, who depressingly didn’t know ISL, didn’t come back the next day. I’d like to think some of the teaching got through to them. This is one reason why Deaf Way will be doing a survey of Deaf education in India soon.

After the first 2 days of teaching and working out the results of our language assessments we had a core number of participants who were either already interpreters or had good enough ISL to start a course of interpreting. Arun Rao, ASLI’s president and trainer supremo, and I led the next 7 days of intensive interpreter training. The number was less than we wanted but it was a sad fact that our course was five years ahead of its time for this state. We ploughed on though and took on the challenge. One of the students bought in a figurine of Saraswati, the goddess of education, culture and knowledge so we put her on the front desk to give us all good luck. I was really buoyed up by the willing attitude of the participants to get involved and learn. We had great fun again doing the role plays and putting people through their paces. We had 3 local Deaf people who helped us with role plays and assessments. It was essential to have their input and their assistance as users of the Bengali dialect of ISL. It was so much fun watching them act out scenes as parents or shoppers to Arun’s dour shopkeepers or angry school principals. All of them deserve Oscars.

We had one more hiccup, a typical Bengali Bundh. This is apparently a monthly occurrence of an all day strike where the city shuts down including shops and transport. The police are out so anyone breaking the strike is fined. We couldn’t hold the course as people were coming from too far away so we agreed to have longer days. This meant I could get on with some work and spend some time relaxing by watching some lapdog TV.

After those long days and enjoying some great Bengali fish it was time to wrap up the course. There was a marked difference in attitudes, skill and competence by the end of the week and again it was a real pleasure to be there to see these improvements. One person said she didn’t know how we could possibly teach that much about interpreting in 9 days but we had made her realise it was a complex process that deserved more follow up courses.

I’m now armed with more changes to make before the next course which will be in Coimbatour in Tamil Nadu. After a break in Bodhgaya, the good work will be continued...

Dharamsala and The Dalai Lama

After the nine days of interpreter training in Delhi it was time for a break. I went straight to the hills to Dharamsala, the site of the Tibetan government in exile. After a queasy 12 hour bus ride round altitudinous mountain roads, my friend and I arrived. We were welcomed by a cool breeze and a rickety taxi van.

Upon arrival at McLeod Ganj, otherwise known as Upper Dharamsala, the taxi pulled over and I wasn’t sure the handbrake would hold on the incline outside the guesthouse. After freshening up it was delicious Momos for lunch. It would be sacrilegious to come here and not eat them. We chose a roof top hotel restaurant. We could see the monks chatting on the street below outside the temple opposite. The highlight of lunch was seeing an elderly woman walk round the whole temple turning every prayer wheel as she passed. A beer or two later was enough to ensure relaxation was kicking in which meant we then went to the beer shop to pick up some fruity local apple and plum wines. We supped on the balcony in the early evening watching kestrel-like birds hovering over the trees passing in front of the many coloured buildings on the slopes of the town. It was all reminiscent of Sorrento in late autumn not that I’ve been there.

The main attraction was being able to listen to teachings of the Dalai Lama. You register the day before with your passport and two photos. You’re given an ID badge that gets you into areas outside the temple in the Tsuglagkhang complex. Once in you can sit yourself in the different cordoned off areas with signs that say English 96.0 FM and Spanish 95.4 FM. The Dalai Lama speaks in Tibetan which was translated simultaneously into Korean as the teachings were requested by Korean Tibetan Buddhists. Breaks were taken every ten minutes or so the listeners could tune in to the consecutive translations into six different languages. It was quite impressive being amongst so many people of different backgrounds and countries all with the same purpose. The monks come round serving bread and Po Cha (butter tea). As the Dalai Lama swept in and out of the hall amonst the assmebled Tibetan Buddhists you could see  their faces light up. He has an amazing presence and it was an honour to be able to be there.

The Tibetans are in exile, forced out of their homeland by the Chinese with a history of atrocities committed against them. The Panchen Lama was kidnapped 14 years ago when he was six, a fact the Chinese government still deny. Many people travel here to work with refugees. Despite their treatment Tibetans are a happy lot and make Dharamsala a lovely place to be walking beside the monks and taking in the mountain views. I’ve checked out the Dalai Lama’s schedule and I’m sure I’ll be back for more.

The Dalai Lama's Trust: http://www.dalailama.com/office/the-dalai-lama-trust
Free Tibet: www.freetibet.org
Save Tibet: www.savetibet.org

A Million Dollar Success

You may have seen my Twitter or Facebook updates already in which case you’d know: I have had a pretty damn good week.

The main aims of my VSO placement was to set up interpreter training and deliver this in a few cities across India. The other was to develop the Indian Association of Sign Language Interpreters (ASLI) and the interpreting profession in general.  

For the last three months I have had my head down creating the training which we start delivering tomorrow to our master trainers in Delhi. They’ll be a few more dates round the country including Kolkata in West Bengal and Coimbatour in Tamil Nadu. One pressing issue was to get the training certified. I wrote my first government proposal a few months back. This was delivered in person as Arun and I went to meet the ministry concerned. We explained the course had the highest content of interpreter training that India had seen so far. Many courses have so far concentrated on ISL skills. I had word on Wednesday that the training should be confirmed next week as receiving accreditation which means interpreters passing the ASLI course will be eligible to register with the government. There is still much work to do on registration and standards but this is an incredible first step to improvements in the current system. This was this week’s first bit of good news.

The second came on Saturday morning. Followers of this blog will have seen an update at the end of July concerning work being done for the proposed ISL academy. I stated then that the proposals I helped to develop were well received by other organisations and the Ministry of Social Justice and Empowerment. Since then there have been a few meetings of the new advisory committee and budgets were firmed up. There was an all day meeting that Arun attended. On Saturday he phoned: the centre has been awarded 80 Crore ($20 million dollars).

This will mean the centre houses one of the biggest Sign Language Linguistics departments in the world. There will be research and training on bilingual education for Deaf children. In a country where very few teachers of the Deaf have any knowledge of ISL this is an incredibly important step. There will be funds to encourage ISL poetry and film production. There will be research and training of sign language interpreting. There will be more employment of Deaf people. The icing on the cake everyone is hoping for is that ISL becomes the 19th official language of India.

I am so proud to have been involved in this project and to have made an impact. For anyone that thought I was on a jolly and didn’t want to donate to VSO, you may do so now by clicking here!

It’s no rest for me though. There’s the Delhi course next week for 15 new interpreter trainers. In between the Kolkata and Coimbatour courses, I have a few weeks to complete my next big job. I will be writing another proposal for the government on providing interpreters nationally. We’re talking about a service for anywhere between 4 – 10 million Deaf people. As the census has never had a separate category for Deaf people, nobody knows exactly how many people are Deaf and use Sign Language.  Those that are need access to medical, legal and financial appointments. School, college and university students need interpreters. The courts and police stations need to be able to call on interpreters at a moment’s notice. With scant provision now, mostly through Deaf organisations, there is no information with which to start. 

After consultations and research I’ll need to work out the logistics of setting up interpreter provision in a country 14 times the size of the UK. I’m finishing up at the end of November and it’s going to be a busy few months. Watch this space. Soon there'll be reports of another million dollar success!

Blogpost for VSO: My Story So Far

So I've been at it again: blogging for others, this time for VSO.

They asked me to write of my experience so far. Now it's been a whopping 9 months it was a good chance to reflect and summarise the work I have been doing and what I am expecting of my remaining few months.

It was great having the VSO UK media team visiting. We had lots of fun taking pics with staff and as it was my first day back from holidays it was a nice way to ease myself back into work and being back in India.

 

You can see some more pics and read the VSO blogpost summarising my antics here.

The Good Life – Urban Vs Rural

It was off to the farmland scrubs of Rajasthan last weekend where I visited a friend in her VSO placement. We’ve often compared placements. She is living with a family in a village of around a thousand people. The family run the NGO, GVNML and she lives with them tucked away in a small part of a beautiful house, barely leaving the compound to venture out for weeks at a time. The surrounding houses are made of mud and most people don’t have a toilet. She’s so well integrated the family treat her as one of them. One of her ‘sisters’ pointed at the field on the outskirts of the village and told me that was the public toilet. She explained people don’t want toilets in their small houses especially when it is so hot. Now I know why there are more mobiles in India than places to do your morning ablutions.

By contrast I am in Delhi, India’s second biggest city and do things like go to the cinema and sing karaoke. The downsides I’ve documented well such as the heat, dust, chaos and the staring. I have access to everything if I want it but my £5 daily allowance doesn’t cover it. Equivalent prices in GBP: a small block of imported cheddar £5, marmite £4, cinema visit £4, cheapish night out with beer £10. These treats are paid for out of savings as the allowance tends to go on locally available food and ever increasing auto costs – well the Commonwealth Games are approaching you know.

How lovely it was to escape to the countryside and visit the family’s farm. Looking out at the green fields, fresh from the best monsoon in 10 years, previously drought-struck Rajasthan looked beautiful. From the back of the tractor it was green as far as the eye could see. I almost got agoraphobia. The nearest I get to lush greenery are the few small parks that I run around trying desperately to get some exercise. This involves dodging mums with babies in strollers talking into mobiles about Indian Idol, older women replete in saris with bright white trainers sticking out at the bottom. There’s usually a 50 something gentleman doing his morning yoga, clearing his throat and hacking something up as I make my way past. Occasionally someone burps, usually incredibly loudly. Luckily I’ve come to find most of these random bodily noises amusing. It’s a kind of acceptance necessary for sanity. Even at 7am the parks are full resulting in a lack of peace, a lack of space or clean fresh air. It can drive you mad and there are times I long for the English countryside, a long hike through fields followed by a glass of red and a Sunday pub lunch. My horse riding lessons in the UK seem like a distant memory.

Out in the sticks you’re more likely to learn a language too as in Delhi people see you coming and speak English. My roti man greets me with a daily ‘Guten Morgen’ even though I’ve told him I’m British three times. It’s all swings and roundabouts here, there's good with the bad, you take the rough with the smooth. It’s India’s extremes. I’d personally find it hard going rural for more than a couple of months so it’s lucky my placement was city based. I take my hat off to all those working hard in their rural placements, having seen firsthand how challenging it can be. They get to see the other side of the country, live closer with people and understand the poverty that affects so many of the rural communities. Being in the centre of things though makes my work more effective in terms of campaigning government and organising events such as interpreter training. I get the city benefits on the side. Dilli’s foibles may drive me mad on an off day but give me karaoke and beer any time; I’m a confirmed city-wallah. 

YouTube Channel Clip - Rotis in Rajasthan (eating breakfast with the family)

Single, White, Female

Solo?

Yes solo.

Just one?

Yes just one.

No man?

No man.

On average I had this conversation twice a day whilst away in Malaysia. It’s not like this isn’t part of daily life in India though:

Shaadi?

No, not married.

Bachche?

No. No children.

Where are your family?

UK.

You don’t miss them?

Yes I do.

No husband?

Noooo.

How old are you?

37 (Cue short intake of breath).

By Indian standards I’m a bit odd. By UK standards I’m a bit of an anomaly but less so and actually who cares? Thing is, judging by the amount of books written about lone female travellers I really thought I wasn’t that different. But you travel round or live anywhere for a while in Asia and you’ll notice you’re still a rarity. One man even asked before I started a jungle trek if I wasn’t scared I’d get lost. Travelling is bad enough, but what are the stereotypes and cultural pressures in India as a single female?

I’ve had chats with friends who say everyone they know is in a love marriage or that they aren’t being pressurised into an arranged marriage. But then they are the lucky ones. However strong the social pressure is to be married with kids in the UK, here it is far worse. Many more women report pressure from parents, endless meetings with potential partners and Shaadi.com, I kid you not, is pretty popular.  Some have secret boyfriends whom they wish to marry but their parents won’t let them as they are in different strata of society. Men too face pressure from eager parents keen to fulfil their social obligations. The topic of sex is taboo. Because of this certain parks are known as lovers’ make out places and the abortion rate is on the increase.

This is Delhi. It’s the capital city and conservative compared to Mumbai. But those who are approaching their 30s that have the strength, social position or freedom to rebel do so. Parents may insist on arranged marriages but the lucky ones are allowed their choices. Elsewhere those from more moderate backgrounds or more rural areas are under more pressure. Child marriage, before the age of 18, is well documented and prevalent in rural communities. Kids as young as 11 are paired off and girls are often pregnant with their first child by 12 or 13. Once married there may be other issues.

Dowry torture, where a wife’s new family may try to kill off the bride so the husband can remarry and bring a new dowry to the family is often in the news. Less reported are false accusations that can damage a husband’s family and its reputation.

Many of these social problems stem from an ingrained culture of boys having more value than girls in society. This causes female infanticide where female foetuses are unwanted and therefore aborted. In the case of child marriage a lack of women causes communities to want to get the girls and marry off their offspring early.  

Whether in the city or rural, male or female, the stereotypes and cultural pressure exist. I’m no expert on these issues and they run much deeper than what I have stated here. Still, anyone can clearly see the effects old prejudices have on today’s society. It may not be easy being in your 30s, single and living with India’s slow cultural change but as a gori I get it easy.

Pic from: Daily Times