The Land of Contradictions

I read recently from a westerner's observations of India that it is a land of contradictions. "India is beyond statement, for anything you say, the opposite is also true. It's rich and poor, spiritual and material, cruel and kind, angry but peaceful, ugly and beautiful, and smart but stupid. It's all the extremes... India is in some ways like a fun hall of mirrors where (you) can see both sides of each contradiction sharply and there's no easy escape to understanding." Slowly I am realizing the many truths in this statement.

We have an Indian lady who comes to our apartment daily to clean that we have come to genuinely like because she has shown such outward affection toward our little girl Sofia - smiling, laughing, hugging her and even giving her gifts. Western guilt combined with our uneasiness of having someone coming to our place to do the cleaning and washing for us, has made us show an unusual display of kindness and leniency towards her, at least by Indian standards. But after giving her one time an unusually generous monetary gift to "help her daughter take an exam for school", we've slowly been fed more and more stories of her misfortune. Stories and complaints of her husband's daily drunkenness, her non-stop, no-day-off-even-when-she's-sick-with-fever job, her daughter's (and now son's) inability to attend college or take exams because of exorbitant fees, and then giving herself two days off to take her daughter to the doctor for a "headache", after which she lists off the many tests and fees she can't afford to pay. Having just recently taken our own daughter to the hospital, for which she was keenly aware, I began to feel a deep sorrow and sympathy that our "friend", despite working every day of her life, and having a husband who is a drunkard and spends all the little money he makes, and unable to send her daughter AND son to school, couldn't afford to help her daughter in her illness. What a wretched, rich American I am! At least, that is how I felt.

After consulting with Gilberto about the matter, because now the guilt has become REALLY pricey, we began to be a little suspicious. When I asked her to give me the name and phone number of her daughter's doctor so we can call and see what tests need to be done and how we can help, the response I was given was no more than a half-hearted, lopsided smile and "yes, ma'am". There were no more smiles when she said goodbye for the day and we never did get the doctor's phone number from her. We were soon made aware from dear Indian friends of ours that this is a common tactic from "the help" to squeeze money out of a guilt-ridden Westerner (when in fact they are doing just fine money-wise). The betrayal I felt was deep and personal.

But then I would read in the newspapers over and over again of just the opposite... not betrayal but loyalty to a fellow citizen. When a pedestrian is hit by a car or bus or motorcycle on the road and the person driving attempts to drive off, citizens who witnessed the incident stop what they're doing and run after the person. It never fails... it's actually what is expected because everyone knows that the police always happen to come way too late when the accused have already taken off. This is their way of ensuring the victim gets some justice. If the criminal is beaten up and put into the hospital, at least then there will be record of his name and then he can face the punishment that comes with being so careless on the road. It's an odd example of loyalty perhaps, but it shows that the Indian people not only feel justice is important for themselves but also have a personal sense of commitment to each other in that regard.

So even as I feel a certain betrayal of sorts by the Indian people who have taken advantage of my kindness, I am comforted a little by the contradicting loyalty as well. Making the sorrow only skin deep and ultimately banishing my naivete in a world that is not so innocent, which is a valuable lesson in my eyes.

This realization came to me suddenly and quite randomly while I was sitting in a autorickshaw, while smelling the many smells of India amid the morning Bangalore traffic and surrounded by a mob of motorcycles and rickshaws inching their way forward at every opportunity, that despite the betrayal there is a very real camaraderie and loyalty, even if displayed in the most odd circumstances. Suddenly I felt the compassion and loyalty as we all made our way forward, inch by inch in a melodic unison.