My life as an Indian sitcom cont.

May God Grant Us A Linguistic Epiphany
Sometimes Indian English makes me frustrated. I feel like so many English phrases they use have the emFAsis on the wrong syLAblle, but then I remember that my Hindi/Marathi attempts are probably even more excruciating to listen to. However, the graduation ceremony at Epiphany High School was too much. I wanted to throw a dictionary at every speaker in the room by the end of the program!

First of all, I didn’t want to be sitting through the “felicitations” in the first place (Indians also have the British tendency to use absurdly antiquated words for everyday purposes).
All I needed to do was set up a meeting with the Epiphany School principal to discuss the cycling awareness program that our NGO is promoting. However, one of our directors is very social and assumed that I would like to attend this ceremony as a cultural learning experience as well as set up my meeting. I did not discover this until after we arrived (aghh!!). The ceremony was for the 10th standard students who had just passed their very important college entrance exam, so there were several speakers with words of wisdom for the “graduates.” This was also a Christian high school, so there were prayers and a homily and a blessing… my friend Rebekah, who is an anthropology major, was drinking this up. I was squirming with rage in my plastic chair.

Maybe my attitude was the reason why I found this particular pronunciation completely unbearable. Then again… okay. The name of the school is Epiphany, meaning a sudden, often holy, revelation. I’m sure it’s used in the Bible somewhere. But throughout the program, the principal, teachers, priest, board member and anyone else who spoke kept praising the graduates of epiFAWNY high school. Like the beginning of “epi-pen” combined with the name for a baby deer. I was like, “No way. There is no way that is a legitimate pronunciation, even in the UK.” But they kept saying it! All the adults were very educated and spoke flawless English EXCEPT for the word EpiFAWNY! It’s the NAME of their school… how could they not have heard the alternate pronunciation? It was maddening! I wanted to run screaming from the room and leave everyone wondering what had driven me insane.

After the program, the school served us very good Tandoori chicken. Since I have been basically deprived of meat since I got here, I forgave them. Mostly. ☺

Oh! And during the dinner, music was playing in the background. The kids must have set it up, because, as we were sitting amongst a bunch of teachers, administrators and assorted old people, I hear, “She want that lovey dovey… kiss kiss… she’s mine and so fine (something) get with me!” I turned to Rebekah and I was like, “…Chris Brown?” ☺ We later heard Taylor Swift and Three Days Grace come on too. I’m sure that the adults were not paying attention to the words… it’s the last kind of music I expected to be played at a Christian school graduation.

Most Pleasant Rickshaw Ride Ever
Every day I complain about my rickshaw experiences. In fact, I now have a bike so that I can largely avoid having to ride in them. But a couple nights ago I actually had a good rickshaw story!

I was riding home from the gym after class, and we had gone a little ways when the driver asked me where I was from. I told him I was from the US. He paused for about 5 seconds and I thought that was his only question, but then he turns around and asks excitedly, “Michael was from US, yes?” I almost laughed out loud. This was the day after the Epiphany graduation, where Michael Jackson was repeatedly mentioned. It’s so odd that what’s news in America is also news in totally unrelated countries. Anyway, I answered him yes, Michael and I were from the same country. He mused for a moment, then said, “You know, I don’t really think he’s dead.” Hmm… I didn’t know really what to say!

I needn’t have worried because the rickshaw driver was content with doing most of the talking for the rest of the ride home. He told me he agreed with Amitabh Bachan (sp?), Indian movie superstar, that Michael Jackson was from another planet (couldn’t tell if we was being literal or figurative). The driver also told me a story about how Michael Jackson had accidentally entered Amitabh Bachan’s room while the two of them were staying in the hotel. Apparently it was a memorable moment in the Indian star’s life.

So he told me this story until we got back to the hostel. I was happy to have had a relaxing ride home, and when I looked at the meter and fare card, I realized it had also cost me a lot less than the drive normally does. The charge was Rs. 26, so I gave him 30 and asked for change. He was like, “I don’t have change, so here, I’ll just take 25.” That is the first time ever a rickshaw driver has willingly undercharged me. I was like, wow… you are amazing! I told him to have a nice night, and now I really wish we had taken down his rickshaw number so we could have him on call… what a nice guy. I guess even rickshaw-wallahs are human. ☺

Flash Forward to the Present
So that’s all the reminiscing I care to do now—work is fully underway, which means we have more meetings and workshops to practice than I can probably handle. I love my job though. Devaki is great, and I really feel like we are doing something meaningful to help the community and the environment. In fact, I really wish I could stop going to class and just work…

Pol Econ class is not turning out as exciting as I’d hoped—it’s mostly Indian history review, which Atul Kohli (mentioned in several of our ppts!) pretty much made me an expert in last semester. I try to journal or plan out my work schedule during class. Also have to write 2 research papers in the next four weeks…hmm. Not sure how I’m going to manage that. May have to try really hard and not care so I can get them done and get back to work! ☺

Oh, but some slight funny blips on the radar today. I was kind of out of money, so I went to the ATM to get some cash. While I was doing the transaction, the power went out, and my card got stuck inside the ATM. There is no backup supply, and apparently my card is stuck in the machine until the electronics contractor comes tomorrow morning. I didn’t even cry. Seriously, India sometimes is very WTF. My program director is on it, so I should get everything settled by tomorrow morning… but still. Having your trip savings stuck in a random ATM on Bhandarkar Road is not something I would have planned.

So I didn’t have any money to recharge the minutes on my phone. I’m biking to my NGO office for a meeting, and I get lost. Lucky for me, the minutes on my phone run out as I’m talking to my boss about directions. I bike around Ganpadi Chowk for 20 minutes, ask about 7 people for directions (some people just run away as soon as I start speaking, even though I’m not using a word of English), and finally I find the office for the meeting. I’m pretty late. Oh well!

Around this time, I realize that my orange AE leather flip-flops have not agreed with the monsoon weather, and have dyed the bottoms of my feet bright orange. Instead of losing it, I was thankful that none of my clothes were damaged (cause another one of my shirts DID dye everything blue).

Hmm. Perhaps gradually adjusting to India can be my substitute for anger management therapy. Either that, or I’m slowly losing my mind. ☺

AND have 65 pictures to post. Which are all awesome and you will love as soon as I find time to do it!

PS. Carolyn and Coleen got their noses pierced today. I did not. You’re welcome, Mom.