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How
was trekking in Madikeri? You're probably in Hassan (spelling?)
now, and I envy your cavorting around like overgrown turtles
with your houses on your backs. Backpackers remind me of
these amphibians. I can't help it.
I
wonder if I do not come across as empathetic with the people
here. I know that I've been anti-social and misanthropic
for quite a while because of all my bad experiences (I've
had too many too enumerate), but I do try and contextualize
always. For instance, the other day, as you both well know,
I visited Bham Bham Baba Ashram (that's the real name) with
the two European women I met - one from Denmark, the other
from Germany-and as we were sitting on the riverbank chatting,
a young boy/man who could not have been more than ten or
twelve approached me and asked for the time. I looked at
my watch and told him, only for him, suddenly, to grab my
left breast quite brutally before dashing off onto the other
side of the river and pulling out his penis in order to
dramatize masturbation. He was with two other young men/boys,
and they had a motorcycle amongst them. You might be able
to imagine my feelings then shock, discomfort, pain, fear,
anxiety, anger, frustration, disempowerment, hopelessness,
etc., etc. Cognitively and, in some ways, emotionally, I
recognize and have said that this boy is a product of his
environment, that he has education or greater worldliness
to see his behavior from a different, more humanist perspective.
Yes, yes, and more yeses. At the same time, though, I deal
with the human moment in which I am vulnerable and hurt,
conscious that I have very little recourse available to
me, that I dint have the opportunity to fight back and demand
accountability. The boys zoomed by on their motorcycle thrice,
and so none of us could catch the license plate.
I
can't tell you how disempowering it is to deal with these
sorts of incidents almost daily, in the end knowing that
the offending men/boys get away with impunity and that something
similar will happen again. What are my conclusions? That
I want, more than ever, to do international work in an effort
to push for distribution of wealth and resources inter and
intra nationally, between and within countries. India is
a paradox I feel, largely because of the huge gap between
the rich and the poor. The wealthy and the middle-classes
here possess virtually all the wealth and resources, and
so the poorer people are left to their own ignorance. Means
that ten to twelve year old boys think nothing of grabbing
the left boobs of Canadians studying in Mysore.
In
any case, the Ashram itself seemed conformity-rich and spirituality-poor.
We met quite a lot of people who quietly went around the
place looking like they were in on some profound secret,
and when we finally met the swamiji, I was astounded by
the brief meeting which was supposed, I think, to impress
me somehow. We waited in a line, behind other people who
kept on shushing us (to be quiet), proceeded to the front
where the "all-knowing" one sat amidst his devotees, and
were urged to pay respect, i.e. get down on our knees and
how down before him and then to receive an apple and orange
from him. He bent his head down, looked very ponderous,
touched the fruit to his forehead, and dropped them into
our outstretched hands. For someone of so little conversation,
I'm surprised at how he's experienced such an apotheosis.
For all I know he could have been thinking about rushing
home to watch the Indian version of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?
In any case, you can be sure I'm no new convert.
What
was redeeming about this excursion was, ironically, getting
there and leaving it; we had to cross a wide river by concrete
footpaths-cum-bridges, and we were enchanted by the stillness
of nature around us. We could hear the birds chattering,
walk by herds of painted bulls grazing, and sit by the water
with only the sounds of waves lapping the shore, kissing
our exposed toes. My favorite moment was looking up from
the river to realize that a large group of young goats had
gathered to peer down at us from the main pathway. One of
them actually cocked his head at me and gazed into my eyes,
entirely perplexed by me as the Weird Stranger. Being etherized
by a four-footed animal is strangely enlightening; I realized
that difference is perceived from all angles. Well, I had
meant for this e-mail to be quick and dirty, like sex in
the morning when you're both late for work, but I've been
long-winded as usual. My apologies!
Keepin'
keepin' in touch
Julie Wong
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