My sister's thoughts on India

A perspective from my sister and travel companion:

As a small toddler reaches out to me, with a stub as a substitute for his arm, begging for money, on the beaches of Anjuna, Goa, I feel a sudden urge to write. I have only been in India for four days now, but it feels like so much longer. Arriving in India was startling, to say the least. After having been picked up at the Kochi airport, I got my first taste of the culture, watching for an hour and a half, behind the tinted windows of the taxi, feeling rather safe and excluded. Underneath the enormous commercial billboards, portraying a dreamy life unknown to the villagers, laid the life of Kerala. Skinny men talking and walking slowly, with their button-down shirts and mundus, were surrounded by stray cows, dogs and the occasional elephants. No woman walked alone, but families and friends gathered onto motorcycles in the dangerous and crowded streets. Little stands and broken-down buildings had signs in front of them for all sorts of merchandise, but they were empty, at the exception of some lonely shelves and a wrinkled woman, hunched over on a chair, squinting at the bright light of the sun and tired of the slow business. The odor of burnt trash fills the air, as the dusty ground is littered everywhere and no garbages are in sight.
Such things I took for granted previously- why weren't there any waste baskets around? And why were so many buildings run down? These seemed like easy problems to fix and at first, I was shocked by their presence. I had prepared myself psychologically for poverty and hunger before I arrived, but did not realize that such problems entailed others, such as filth, and other more general aspects, such as the attitude of the people here. They are eager to jump on tourists and attract business, but are simultaneously discouraged and tired of sitting in the hot sun waiting for it. India has the highest rate of child labor in the world, and it was not visible at first, but only hit me on the beaches of Goa. A girl, no older than seven, tugged on my elbow and stared into my eyes: "Come to my shop. I have no expensive blankets for you. Come, you promiss?" And here I stood, privileged enough to travel so and study in college in the US, when she has already experienced the world of work, without having hit puberty, not even had the time to play and laugh. It is difficult to walk through these streets in India, watching such people, not only because of the life they lead, but due to the way they approach you. Unlike any other country I've visited, the people here touch you. They have no problem coming up to you, tugging on your clothes and following you, and most of the time, there are about three women or small children begging simultaneously. Seeing is enough- to have to feel it rub against you is atrocious. Additionally, everything is cheap: forty cents for a rickshaw across town, three dollars for a shirt, not more than ten dollars for dinner. No wonder they beg for more, and sometimes, as I bargain with a sly smile on my face and Eve at my side, I feel like I'm in the wrong: what right do I have to demand less? These people live life as a struggle, I live it as a luxury.

A little about the different places I've been: Kochi is a port, not the capital of the southern state of Kerala, but the second biggest city. A port, always filled with the smell of fresh fish and Kerala spices. Ancient Chinese fishing nets line up along the edge of the water, followed by stands selling the fish, and finally followed by restaurants. A major part of Kochi is called "Jew Town", the neighborhood in which basically the entire Jewish population of India is concentrated. There is not very much poverty in Kochi and in the surrounding parts, but the divide between the rich and the poor still remains obvious. This became clear as we passed a sumptuous mansion in a rickshaw and the driver revealed to us that it belonged to an old governmental figure. Eve, well-informed as usual, asked: "communist?" -"Yes, yes," he replied, without catching the irony of the situation. This divide is not the only one I've noticed: another is the divide between the beauty of India and its metaphorical filth. On one of the days we spent in Kerala, Eve and I first went to an elephant training camp (for religious or cultural events), where we were submerged into the countryside of Kerala, uncrowded and beautiful. Our next stop was mesmerizing: we visited waterfalls about three hours outside of Kochi. Not only was the drive into the mountains beautiful, but it was heavenly. The natural surroundings left me speechless; it is difficult to describe such beauty... let me just say that the "oneness" Buddhism searches for with nature is found here.

Our next destination, Goa, where I have been for only one night, is the party scene in India, but is far from a typical one. It is the smallest state in India, where I am reporting from, on the beach, on notepad papers taken from the bartender. Here, trance, all-night partying, and marijuana are king. There are as many locals as there are hippies. The beach is far from idyllic; the water is beige and the beach is rocky and noisy, but it does reflect the culture here. As a topless female tourist passes, I tisk: she should be more aware of the conservative culture that thrives here.
It is a fascinatingly intriguing one; marked by many different things. Genuine openness and hospitality is one of them. Men who are friends hold hands here when they walk together; it is such a delightful and pleasing sight. Another is the deep belief in a religion that prizes a sort of deep quiet and slow tranquility and oneness with body, soul and nature. But this is paired with an exuberance: mostly, the people are marked by bright smiles and colorful clothing. It is truly like nothing else I have ever seen, and as it is visible, it is very difficult to describe all the feelings I've had and everything I've seen since I've been here....
And it's only been four days. Yet, as I have said, it feels like months: I feel fully ingrained in the culture. Luckily, it has not been that long and I have much more time left to explore and discover.