Sarah Macdonald went to India because she had to. She didnt like it - she hated it would be more accurate - when she first visited it and now her life circumstances forced her to go back, her fiancé was stationed there, it was either joining him or being apart for a year or two. Written in (what i'm starting to think is the Australian way) in a very witty, in-your-face, almost rude English, this sometimes politically incorrect way yet finds space for a context even at the most horrid situations. I personally have a problem with this politically correct age, when people are worried about ridiculous things and are more hypocritical than ever so Macdonald's writing was a welcomed relief.
For an Indian I imagine that the first chapters are an account of a rich Western woman, perhaps it would be interesting to read an account of an Indian adjusting to Western society with its luxaries, sex, drinking and atheism.
However for another Western woman who despite being more or less warned that India was a shock, still struggled with it, this book hit all the right keys. I, like the author, surprised myself when I noticed how much I was resisting the chaos, the idiosincrasies that make India, how much I was attached to Western society. After all, it is a different culture and mine was not perfect either. I then started to try to enjoy the little things: not getting sick, nice food, one nice man that didnt stare, I didnt get lost while walking alone, I tried to go with the flow, Macdonald however had a different fate. When you are stuck in a country for a year or two you must at least try and understand it, Sarah Macdonald couldnt. She couldnt enjoy it or smell it either. After a couple of weeks she got a near fatal pneumonia, came back to her polluted flat a sack of bones and three months later she was bald. She decided to stop cringing and hating India and to try, at least try and fit in, understand, study, accept. "I must find peace in the only place possible in India. Within."P.81 Sarah M. then went to a Vipassana meditation center and did not speak or in anyway communicate for 10 days. She realized her nostrils breathed differently. She understood she was the problem by directing her anger at India. She gained some control.
After the Vipassana center she went to a Sikh temple, she was now a almost bald white woman among followers of a religion that does believe in cutting one's God given hair. She hears the beauty that is the live music in any Sikh temple: "I can't understand it, but the communal singing, or kirtan, they lead is divine. I have to stop myself from crying out 'Alleluia!' (...) Influenced by the Sufi hymns, the music is designed to prompt a particular devotional mood or emotion. I feel sweet joy, a sense of shared serenity within the human spirit.'P.103
Still India hits back, there is an earthquake that kill thousands, a massive drought and the traffic is still scary."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." P.123
Indians must suffer a culture shock in Western societies as well:
" 'We Indian people, we look at the people more poor, more low, more hard than us and we are thanking God we are not them. So we are happy. But you white peoples, you are looking at peoples above you all of the times and you are thinking, why aren't I them? Why am I not having that moneys and things? And so you are unhappy all of the time.’ "P.127
Sarah and her now husband go to Kahsmir during yet another cease fire, mosques are boarded up, there are sand bags in front of temples, people have not worked or seen tourists in months. Muslims Indians are welcoming and nice, she is stuffed with food - twenty one types of lamb - and hears "I love you" a lot. She attents a Hindu festival, a mass rave where ecstacy is religion.
For the course of several months she experiences, breathes in and listen to Buddhism, Jainism, Islam, Sufism, Hinduism, Judaism (and the Kabalah), Parsi and even the teachings of an alien called Kryon. Sarah also visits different parts of the country, goes to several Indian marriages, watches the drama of an India "saving face".
The reader feels compelled to join her in her religious quests and interaction with Indian families but not on the rest of her Indian experiences, I mean, she almost died of pneumonia... This book is an excelent way of reliving a culture shock or of learning how you could react to it, also through her life changing experiences we learn a lot about India, its religions and beliefs. It's also a bit like reading "history of religion" or a "world religions" funny essay. It still could use some pictures...
The stop in Mumbai was of only 2 hours but it was more than enough time to befriend a Thai lady who lives in Newark, to be harrassed by a few Indian men, to eat food so spicy I wondered if my teeth were going to fall off and to say once again ''only in India!''. It's a bit like the sign above, my Thai friend thought it was funny while I just looked at her with a serious expression and said 'you've never been to India.'. She was surprised. 'No, no I haven't.' I smiled. 'If you had you'd think that that sign should be in a more visible spot.'
One of my favorite bit was passing 5 security checks all with x-rays and the very modern system of... stamps. However my ultra favorite was being told to hurry to the gate, being told to walk faster to boarding, having of course 3 different queues each time and then... waiting at the stairs. Waiting for what? No one was quite sure. 20 minutes later the crew arrived and passed the crowd. We still waited. One passenger in the front was reporting to the back: 'It's raining.'
When at last the door was open, we were still stuck, the rain was ready to make boats out of the airplanes. There was only one light outside making the scenery even more eerie. Imagine hearing the biggest amount of water you'll ever hear falling while seing glimpses of airplanes (depending on where the lightning struck) and people walking back and forth. Part of the ground crew was chatting away next to us, oblivious to the moment.
I turned on my flash and decided to have fun. My feet were already wet so why not? After a few moments someone turned on the lights.
That dude with the automatic riffle was suddenly standing next to the passengers. Where did he come from? Had he been there all the time? I mean, had a creeepy guy with a gun been standing next to us in the dark?...
And this is how we entered the bus. We crossed a puddle that was anckle deep as quickly as we could (did I mention wheelchair bound passengers?), the lady with the umbrella was standing at the door instead of walking with us trying to cover us and the bus was wet inside, chairs included. And yes, we had to do the same while leaving the bus and entering the plane except that while walking to the plane we had a guy scream at us 'Faster! Keep going!' even tough there was only one door and five people stuck trying to get in. I was rarely that happy to be in shape.
