Katie Revell\’s India Blog

Our friend Vikas (one of Subha’s many cousins) got married last night. It was all rather impromptu, with invitiations being emailed around to a select group of family and friends which, flatteringly, included us. Vikas has a slew of interesting qualifications to do with development work and journalism and is currently on an International Rotary Scholarship in Australia. He stopped by here for his wedding on his way back from a Rotary conference in the US. Alright for some, eh?

 Our volunteer friend Hannah was there, too. Talking to her highlighted how different the projects are to one another. She has had a far more “rustic” experience than I, living in a tiny village in her own hut, really getting to know the locals and becoming absorbed into the community. Her Telugu is embarassingly good. Listening to her impassioned descriptions and fond recollections (she says she really doesn’t want to leave) makes me a little envious. I kind of wish I’d been in a rural project like that, with a much better-defined “community” than a large college like Stella in a city such as Vijayawada.

 On the other hand, though, living in a situation like that, I would not have been exposed to the diaspora that is India. For some reason, this year has seen a large number of new students from “up North”: West Bengal and the “Northeastern States” which lie to the East of Bangladesh, as well as Nepal. The differences between these girls and their Southern counterparts are striking. For a start, they clearly come from completly different genetic stock: this is visible in their softer, more Oriental features, lighter eyes and paler skin which contrast with the darker skin, dark eyes are sharper features of the girls from the South. Culturally, too, they come from different worlds. One thing I noticed while travelling is that youngsters in the North (especially those of Tibetan descent, but also others) are far more Westernised than those here. In Himachal Pradesh and Darjeeling, it was rare to see a girl wearing churidar - those that did were generally tourists from the Plains. The locals were dressed in jeans and t-shirts, and fashionable ones at that (as opposed to the fresh-from-the-80s items on offer here). One of the new girls explained that she didn’t like her new college uniform - a pale pink churidar. It was the first time she had worn one (indeed, all the students I saw in the North were decked out in skirts or trousers, shirt, tie and blazer) and she found the chunni - the floaty scarf which drapes over the chest and across the shoulders - irritating, since it kept falling off. I have to say I have had exactly the same problem.

The Northern girls also tend to have had more exposure to other countries, through TV, films and music. Korea seems to be the “in” thing at the moment: apparently there is a popular Korean TV network and some of the girls talked dreamily of a certain singer called “Seven”. I asked if they’d like to travel anywhere outside India, and their immediate answer was “Korea!”.

I can’t help feeling more of an affinity with these girls than with the “locals”. I suppose the common ground is simply much more, and, after all, we’re both a long way from home (it’s a 3-day journey for most - longer than it will take me). Although in principle I disapprove of the the clamour for a Western-style life, the encroachment of jeans-and-pizza onto Indian soil and the gradual displacement of traditional culture until it becomes a performance for special occasions, I do find myself gravitating towards the more Westernised girls. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy talking to the less “worldy” students, but the difference in perspective is more pronounced.

Our friend Subha leaves today for Canada where she’s got a 6-month scholarship to study “Developmental Leadership”. Her family, the Goras, have long been involved with various social activites: her particular interest is in women’s rights, so undoubtedly the course will be valuable for her. It’s strange to be saying goodbye to her when we’d always assumed it would be the other way around! Her grandmother and the rest of the family have assured us that we’re always welcome to visit, which I certainly intend to - there’s always a nice atmosphere at their place, as well as coffee practically on tap. They’ve been very helpful throughout the year and have welcomed us into their family entirely. Although I’m looking forward to going home, I know I’ll miss people like them once I’m back.

We have now started our regular timetables and my classes (when they happen) have been going pretty well. There are the usual problems with disappearing students - again, nobody has been informed that we’ll be coming so it’s up to us to catch them before they disperse during their work periods. I had a really good lesson this morning with some second-year degree students: there were only around 12 in the class which made it much easier to properly interact with individuals and, even in that initial lesson, to build up a good rapport. In contrast, I took a class of around 50 last Thursday, and found it rather more difficult to hold their attention - not helped by the gale blowing and rain hammering down outside the open-sided classroom! It’s frustrating, in a way, that the classes we take have been chosen so randomly (based purely on who has free periods when). Obviously, being only two people, there’s a limit to the number of classes we can take, but sometimes I think some students would rather have study time, while I know of others who are desperate to have Spoken English but haven’t been allocated a lesson. I try to counter this by assuring students they can come and talk to me whenever I’m around, but this is not quite the same as having a regular lesson.

Due to our new timetable, our visits to SKCV have become rather irregular: I go on a Tuesday afternoon, Fiona on a Wednesday morning, and we’re both planning to go on Saturday afternoons. I have found it quite good being there on my own, however. It’s difficult to teach as a pair, and often I would find myself letting Fiona take charge of the little ones. I did sometimes take the older girls for an informal class instead, and have to say I enjoy this rather more than trying to keep the youngest in the same place for more than 2 minutes..! Last week I did an hour with the younger girls and an hour with the older ones, and that worked well. I have also come to realise that just interacting and speaking English with them is valuable in itself - perhaps more so than trying (generally in vain) to sit them down and do something resembling a “proper” lesson.

The monsoon has made a tentative start in Vijayawada, although today we haven’t seen a drop. It’s quite spectacular when it really gets going, although so far we’ve only had heavy showers. These tend to make things muggy and muddy rather than refreshed. We’ve been caught out a couple of times and have had to find shelter under trees or at tea stalls. The only thing to do is wait until it lessens - when it rains, it really rains, and you’re drenched in seconds.

Other exciting news includes a minor locust infestation in the Hostel bathroom (they all just appeared one day but are now dying out); my near-miraculous discovery of a mango man who didn’t try to rip me off and was positively friendly when I bartered him to a reasonable price; a new Assistant Warden Sister in the Hostel who is genuinely friendly, in stark contrast to her predecessor; a new, near-lifesize statue of the Virgin Mary and child next to the cathedral, painted entirely in gold (save for the pink faces) and housed in blue-and-white candycane pagoda; and the appearance of several frilly-necked lizards sunning themselves on the tarmac.