meowmeow.

I’m cracking up. I don’t know what’s written on the front page of the New York Times today but I’m pretty sure it’s not a step-by-step demonstration of Obama’s shake + hug “shug.” The Hindustan Times apparently thinks this is more important than the article occupying the same space by its rival, The Times of India, on the high levels of pharmaceuticals found in Andhra Pradesh’s rivers.

Otherwise in the news is a summary of a police investigation into the harassment of two apparently “immodestly” dressed and alcohol-drinking college girls who got pulled out of a club and pushed around by a group of a dozen or so Hindu-nationalist type men who wanted to teach them a lesson in morality. >breathes< Seriously. There has been wide-spread criticism from all over, but the fact that this actually occurred is just so nuts. But on second thought maybe not that nuts – a tiny blurb on the side of the paper reports there had been another “honour killing,” where a woman’s family killed her and her new husband. Apparently they had objected to the match.

Anyway…I’m hanging out in a coffee shop, killing time until Puneet can pick me up on his way home from work so we can go have dinner together. I am so incredibly sick of sweets and coffee and caffeinated things that I’m opting for the blandest item on the menu – ginger tea. I don’t know how or why, and it’s definitely against my will, but it seems like I’ve been eating ice cream every day. For example, yesterday my friend Whitney and I attended the India Republic Day Parade. We rushed there early in the morning, just in time for the barrage of military peacock festivities to begin, so were starving by the time it was all over – the only thing in sight was the Mother Dairy ice cream vendor, roaming around with his push cart sales venue. He kissed the 50 rupee bill I gave him. It was strange.

The parade was really cool. Helicopters flew over head releasing a million flower petals into the air, red and yellow falling down into our hair, our hands. I put some in my pocket and smelled them throughout the day, so fragrant and refreshing. So basically the parade was a display of military prowess (lol) and provincial customs via large, super-cool floats. My favorite part of the military display was when 50 decked out camels lumbered by in formation. I would have taken pictures but due to security reasons they are not allowed! LAME.

In other news, I am getting fat. Not that I’m eating any differently than usual here – Puneet’s mom’s delicious home-made food, with butter –slobbered roti/paranthas (flat bread kind of things) at every meal. Not to mention the cups of tooth-aching sweet chai tea I have at least twice a day. Typically when I’m here my stomach is so messed up I can barely eat or digest properly. I have had a mild case of the “Delhi belly,” since I indulged in two street-side samosas a week and a half ago. Ick. Thus the weight loss that had me down to less than a 100 pounds in September. But for now, my skinny jeans are on their way out, for sure. I’d say I’m 15 pounds heavier since then. Good; I have more energy and look more jolly :)

Working at Amnesty International is going well. There is another intern who started at the same time as me. She is cute and scandalized easily. We have fun, and have been bumming around together a bit, eating Chinese dumplings after work and talking about how awkward my boss is. I am working on the India quarterly magazine and since said supervisor is gone a lot, I have a lot of leeway to do what I want. I even got permission from Naomi Klein’s people (my favorite author!) to reprint one of her articles in the magazine. Also, I thought the piece for our “Activist Art,” column was really bad, so now I get to write it! I am writing about stencil graffiti artist Banksy and how you too can be a guerrilla artist.

I also got to go to an interesting conference on India/Pakistan relationships. It has, honestly, gotten me very curious about visiting Pakistan… Obviously it’s really easy to take for granted our political freedoms. As U.S. citizens we might believe we are in the “land of the free” or that institutions like Guantanamo (which is closing!!!) deeply degrade our freedoms. Nevertheless, I don’t think many of us regularly are thankful about not living under a dictator’s rule. I hate to be really obvious and general but meeting the articulate, English speaking, likable, relatable people who have lived under Musharraf (the “darling of the West”) for years can make you do a double take.

Besides Amnesty, and now that graduate school applications are in, I am working on my fair-trade company, The Lotus Company. I know, it must seem to you like I am always working on it - when is something going to happen for real?!!? I’m nearing a breakthrough – getting bulk order prices set and finalizing product lists. My problem is I always let my projects get out of control. What started as two scarves has become 6. There was no clothing, and now there’s a dress. + jewelry + paintings + bags +poster prints. It’s good, but I really need to stop myself soon or my catalog will never get done!

WARNING: Self-congratulatory paragraph to follow: BORINGI am proud of myself. My friend Whitney is impressed by my Hindi skills and autorickshaw haggling prowess. Her boyfriend Anirban told us a story about when he realized I was comfortable in India. This story juts doesn’t sound the same with me telling it but… he and Puneet were picking me up from some coffee shop in the middle of Gurgaon (outside of Delhi/corporate center/skyscrapers +dust +slums) and I emerged from the middle of a dust cloud looking totally zen and adorable with perfect hair (ok I added those last two adjectives). I now dress pretty much the way I would at home – straight leg jeans + mary janes/leather boots + top. I felt so uncomfortable with myself the first time I came to India. In fact, I couldn’t even describe it at the time. So many experiences take time to understand or translate into words. There was a sense of self-loathing and confusion – I felt white and ugly and plain and big and boyish in the face of toned and colorful and colorful and petite and feminine Indian women. I also didn’t want to be a force of Westernization and just wanted to blend in. But anyway, apparently I am over all of these things because now I just do what I want. Men still stare, and occasionally harass me, but they would no matter what. I’m over it. Mostly.

Despite all of this plans move to NYC are shaping up, at least in my mind. I can see my little apartment with big bright windows and my furball kitten waiting for me to get home. I’ll start searching for jobs soon. Maybe I can even do a couple phone interviews from here

Love, and lots of missing,
t