The Post About Nothing

I dislike the term 'soul-searching.' It connotes an uncertainty of purpose in one's life, the kind of thing I usually feel so sure about. When I decided to come to India over a year and a half ago, I fought against the opinions of other people that I would hate it there, that it was a smelly, dangerous, uncomfortable place and I would regret it. Maybe I fought a little too hard. Back then I was so certain of what the experience of living abroad in Delhi would mean to me, and the opposition I faced may have made me even more stubborn in my desire to prove that I could stand whatever came my way. 

Now, I am almost one month away from completing my program. I haven't left my apartment all week except to go to a few classes and grab some groceries. I'm in hiding from Delhi.

Why? It's complicated. Yesterday I had a long skype conversation with Mum and finally broke down about it. I'm drained - financially, emotionally, physically. I can't stand how taxing it is to leave my house. I can't stand being on my guard 100% of the time. Plus I no longer have the cash to pick up and escape the city for a weekend, so now I have to face these feelings every hour of the day. But more than anything, I can't stand the guilt I feel, and knowing that your experience anywhere you choose to live is what you make it. I mean, some of my friends don't seem to have these kinds of troubles. One in particular just seems to meet fantastic people wherever he goes, people who genuinely just want to sit with him and talk to him. That doesn't happen to me, and I can't really think of why, but I know that other students on my program like him probably won't understand my motives for leaving the country as early as possible, which in turn makes me feel like I have to stay as long as they do and prove myself. Of course Mum consoled me perfectly, telling me I've done enough traveling, seen enough things, and that I don't have to prove myself to anyone. Plus, our family situation has changed a lot with them living away from me in California - I can just tell my friends here that I have to leave in order to get adequate time with my family (time that I really really want).

And at the same time, I feel like I have to defend India. To me it's like that annoying sibling you may complain to your friends about. You might say how much they get on your nerves or inconvenience you or hurt you, but as soon as someone else starts turning around and saying the same things about your family, you know they've crossed the line, and you can't stand it. I have the option to leave here as early as mid-November. I'm ready to go now, I think, but do I want to take that opportunity so soon? When will I come back? And will I ever be back in the same capacity as I am here now? No. Sometimes I feel like running off and vowing never to return, and some days I really love it here. I know I'm not making any sense here. I told you it was complicated.

Yet I don't think I'm alone in all this indecisiveness and conflict. One thing I've learned about this place is that it's rife with paradox - the entire country rests on a fine balance that puts us, its inhabitants, in the grey area between love and hate. I turn to Indian mythology to explain a lot of concepts for me, and this Thursday in Art History class one of those dichotomies came to light for me in a big way. We were touring the Bronze gallery, and came to a familiar statue of Shiva, the Hindu god of destruction. 'Nataraja' is probably the most popular subject in the Indian Bronzes collection, repeated over and over by various artists. In it Shiva performs the dance of creation. Interesting isn't it, that the god with the power to destroy everything is depicted as the one who gave the universe life? With one hand he offers the viewer assurance, with another peace. The locks of his hair are fanned out delicately on either side of his head, forming the canal for the river goddess Ganga to be poured onto from the heavens and give us all life. But in his last hand there sits a fireball, powerful enough to destroy the whole universe. This is the figure Hindus must place their trust in - the man with the power to give everything and to take it all away. I look at the circle of flames behind the creator-destroyer's head, symbolically chosen because it has neither beginning nor end. India in a nutshell; everyday we're going around in circles as people suffer and celebrate. No wonder I'm confused.

And as I face making the decision of when and how I want my time in India to end, I think to myself, perhaps I really do have some of that soul-searching to do.