I can't think of a good title that doesn't sound emo.

Meeting people is an incredibly profound exercise.  It's really a window into just how much you measure people and box them into archtypes you have.  You see, growing up, constantly having to meet people I've realized that there is much I assume about people when I come to meet them for the first time.  Usually I look at the clothes they're wearing, where I'm meeting them, and what little information I have about them - to assume a full character sketch, filling in holes wherever I see fit.  Undoubtedly I'm not as imaginative or as creative as I would like.  Most people just end up a little flat, entirely one-dimensional.  If I meet someone that likes music, and that's all the information I have, I naturally assume it permeates into every facet of their life.  I know that it's not true for me, but in the moment, on gut instinct, it seems natural. 

Then, life kicks in.  The slow, methodical act of "getting to know" a person starts to happen to the point where one day you're talking with this person, laughing, thinking, scowling, whatever it is and you realize this is a real person, not the one-dimensional archetype you originally estimated.  You realize that this person is emotional, they like things, dislike others, can get annoyed, can laugh, their interests vary and in general, they want the same things as you.  They want a meaningful existence.  They want to succeed.  Suddenly you start seeing this person in three-dimensions, understands that there are faces and angles that you can't even see yet, but just as they exist in you, waiting to be found, they lie in this person as well.  All of that has happened with the people here I work with.  They all started out as one-dimensional cardboard cut-outs and have slowly morphed into something far more meaningful and far more worthwhile.

But that's not the reason I bring this up.  This happens a lot with people.  People change as you get to know them.  Some you grow to like more, some less.  Some people you grow closer to and other you end up drifting apart from as you realize that the way you look at life isn't complimentary.  I bring this up because at one point this summer my mom asked me, "So what do you think of India?"  My answer at that point was saturated in macro-political and economic themes.  I was talking about an emerging middle-class I'd never met, a sense of environmental responsibility I've never seen.  It was an opinion based off visiting relatives for a couple of months - hardly a clear picture of exactly what India was. 

Yet only now, after having lived here for several months, carving out a niche for myself am I starting to realize the depth of India.  I'm starting to realize just how shallow and presumpitious my initial assessment was.  The everyday Indian is not governed my macro-economic policies and neither is it fare to blanket things I've read in Time magazine over such a large and diverse country.  Even people from neighboring villages here have very fundamental differences.  And once again, my in-depth time with India has shown me, at a very basic level, that India is not quite that "other".  It's very easy to be overwhelmed by the differences when first getting here and sure there are many paramount differences, but there is surprisingly a lot in common.  I don't want to start sounding too idealistic and "common humanity" but seriously, after all this time, indian people just seem like people not indian people.  Their lives and their desires manifest themselves in different ways, but it's for the same reasons.  They want the same things as we all do.  It's just acted out a little different in different environments. 

Does that mean I feel at home here?  Not yet, maybe never - but the point is that I'm starting to see India not as a place of the past or stastics to be impressively spouted to peers but as a place that is as nunanced, complex, and layered as every human being I've ever known

There is definitely a 'me' in Home

Hello!

Looks like it's time for another update on my state of affairs.  It's harder to tell these days when to write as I'm no longer traveling or having grand adventures - but just working in the office living on a fairly regular schedule.  Let's see...

I went hiking a couple of weekends ago.  I had entirely intended not to go because I was a little sick and wanted to sleep in on Saturday, yet Andy, Susan, and Ko came to my doorstep at 7am promising me open fields to run around and throw a frisbee in.  Having spents this past month in Mussourie searching in vain for a place to just put on my cleats and run around - this was like a call to heaven.  I immediately ran to my room and threw my cleats and disc into a backpack without thinking of the consequences of my action.  I didn't take heed to the fact that, yes I was still sick.  Also I didn't eat breakfast and failed to pack anything in my haste.  I also didn't notice that it was cloudy, muggy, and about to rain outside.  All these things became the end of me as we embarked on our hike.  The place we went to, George Everest House, was an old house of some sort (of exactly what sort, I have no idea) that had a field adjacent to it.  That's the only detail I cared about.  I didn't care to question how far away it was, or exactly what they  meant by field.  Of course I imagined an immaculately pruned, lush green soccer field at least 150 yards long.  Well........six hours later, after walking up and up and up and up and up - I arrived at George Everest House completely exhausted and degected at what lay in front of me.  First of all, we were so high and up and it was so foggy that to see beyond 15 feet in front of you was an absolutely possibility, so forget about throwing a frisbee at any reasonable distance.  Secondly couple that with cold rain, that was slowly soaking into me every hour of that hike up the mountain.  Then finally, come to terms with the fact that what was next to George Everest House cannot be considered a playing field by even the most optimistically minded.  It was filled with growing bushes every 2 feet, large amounts of livestock dung, and a gigantic sinkhole in the middle to top things off.  Overall it was maybe only 40X20 yards big anyway.  It's hard to say though, since, like I said, you could only see 15 feet in front of you.  So, as you can imagine, I felt betrayed, not as much by my friends, but by my own enthusiasm, my own willingness to abandon reason at even the slightest promise of ultimate.  Yet once I got over this, things started to take a turn for the better.  We decided to go to the nearby Tibetan settlement, Happy Valley, from there.  We were escorted the entire way by a pair of young, black energetic puppies.  They would run in front of us chasing each other, playfully running in between us - warning off monkeys and keeping our spirits up with their pure kinetic energy.  They followed us for maybe 4 or 5km before eventually disappearing, probably at the possibility of finding something to eat. 

The Tibetan settlement itself was a refreshing experience.  It had a quaint feel to it.  Even more so than Mussourie (where I live) which was surprising, but welcomed.  Since we were near famished by this point, the Tibetan meal at the local mess hall was a godsend.  We ordered 4 plates of momos, 3 plates of chowmein, 2 bowls of soup, 2 pieces of big tibetan bread, a plate of beef, 7 sodas, and some other things for a total of 250 rupees which is about 5 dollars.  Great - worth the trip.  We emerged outside, our stomachs full, our bodies rested, and saw that there was a high school soccer game going on in the big dirt soccer field located in the middle of town.  It seemed like everyone under 25 in the entire village (with many people over 25) were there watching it, heckling and cheering every bounce of the ball.  It seems like all the good players want to play offense so the worst players were stuck playing defense.  As you can imagine, without great defenders or a good goalie, the games can become a shootout very fast.  That's exactly what happened.  There were several pretty sick moments including a free kick that was bent into the top right corner of the goal and a viscious foul in the box that resulted in a penalty kick.  The soccer game was great to watch.  The energy from the crowd was contangious and it was clear that the players could feel it while they were playing.  It made for a very pleasant trip and a very pleasant visit to Happy Valley. 

Well that was a longer explanation than I originally intended.  Other than that, I've started to mess around with Indian cooking.  That could yield pleasant results for some of you when I come back. 

I started an oil painting class that meets once a week taught by this crazy South African woman that says like "terps" when referring to terpentine.  "Pavan, use the terps."  "Pavan, you can never have enough terps."  "I bought those terps at the stationary shop."  Goodness...  Anyways, Susan took a really depressing picture of me and of course, that was ideal for me.  When I'm done I'll have a nice and depressing self portrait to stare at on stormy nights.  I'll probably hang it in my room, in a ode to the vanity I grew accustomed to living with Prashanth. 

Also I went to a wedding this weekend.  It started 2.5 hours late and was a madhouse.  Duh...indian wedding.  One of the office's cooks had a daughter that was getting married and we were all invited to the wedding.  It was crazy in the sort of way that all Indian weddings are. 

That's all for now I think.  I watched the Dark Knight again, a couple of days ago - man, what a great movie.  That last shot with batman riding into the light with this cape flapping in the wind - love it.  It's pure batman, pure unadultered romantic batman.

Okay hope you're all doing well.  Someone watch a Bulls preason game for me.