Hello India!!!

Hello India!!!

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

I Feel Like Shit (excuse my language)

Lately I’ve been feeling like shit here in India. SHIT in every sense; physical, mental, academic, psychological, external, internal, etc. I just feel like shit. Period.

First of all I always feel sticky and dirty. The sole of my feet look as if I had purposely ran barefoot across a pile of dirt. It’s hot (like really HOT) here; the sun hammers on me so harsh that rivers of sweat run down my spine and ponds are created under my armpit. I don’t understand how Indian girls can put up with long hair in this weather. I just want to go bald under this heat. Mosquitoes tattoo their bites on my body without my permission. I scratch them like a dog with fleas until the mosquito bites rip through my skin and I bleed; it gets so bad to the point where I have to put bandage over the mosquito tattoos in order to stop myself from scratching them. My finger nails are always filled with black dirt – like little kid’s finger nails when they have spent many hours playing house and touching dirt outside. I don’t know how the dirt makes its way into my nails. It’s as if dirt constantly floats around in the thin air and I just can’t see it until it has piled itself into my toe nails, finger nails and nose. When I blow my nose I get chunks of nasty black boogers. I honestly think to myself, “Thank God for nose hair.” Geeze, I feel like shit.

It’s even shittier when I have no small bills (rupees) to use besides a R.s. 500 bill. People are so stingy about giving change here so I constantly run into situations where I can’t afford to buy things because I am “too rich”, such as the auto rickshaws. I’ve had to walk 15 minutes home from the metro station. Ironic? I feel like shit walking alone on the chaotic streets of Kolkata. I feel like shit crossing the maniac traffic of this country. I feel like shit when I am approaching a group of men standing on the street – I feel like shit when I walk pass them and know they are entertained by my butt cheeks switch sides. I feel like shit when I walk behind, beside or in front of a smoker –second hand smoking kills me (literally and figuratively). All in all, I feel like shit. 

Mentally I am checking out [as in tuning out of this world and just floating in la-la-land]. I don’t study because there’s nothing to study for. I don’t get enough sleep because travel time to and from school sucks so much of my time. I don’t call home because I can’t find the correct time and enough words to tell people back home what is going on in my life. I don’t know what to do with myself these days. I just linger around and ponder about why life is life, why India is the way it is, why I live in the US and what that means to me, what I want to do in the next hour, the next month, when I get home, when I graduate, when I die. Where do I stand on this earth? All of this makes me feel like shit.

I’m always an “outsider” here. Every day the people here make me feel like I don’t belong here (intentionally or unintentionally, I’m not sure). I know and accept the fact that I am different, that I’m not Bengali or Indian – and have no roots or right to claim that I am; I know very well that I’m not supposed to fit in smoothly. I just don’t like the fact that every single day of my life I get the “STARE”. They stare at me up and down, from the roots of my dark hair to the bottom of my filthy, dirty and unevenly clipped toes. They check me out like I’m some sort of alien they’ve never seen before. Even though their lips don’t make a sound I can hear their thoughts loud and clear as their eyeballs dig, zigzag, and dance all over me. Their eyes say so much to me, perhaps more than they want to say. I can hear them asking what sort of people I am, where I came from and what am I doing here.

They stare at me as if I am a ghost. Not a scary ghost though; more of an unknown ghost. Or they stare at me as if I am invisible, as if they can see right through me like a clear glass. Or they stare at me as if I am a statue on display. They stare at me as if can’t see them staring. From the corners of my eyes I can smell their curiosity. At times I stare right back at them forcing them to stare away for a few seconds. But this does not stop the staring. GOD, why do I feel so shitty?

1 comment:

  1. Sorry about that. But hey, this is a part of the experience right? I think it's wonderful to feel this way for a period of time. It makes you feel less shitty when you return, because then you really know what it's like to feel shitty. Sorry if this comment is making you feel shitty. :) Smile. India is still a wonderful place (or so told by my friend). I hope to feel shitty when I go there over the summer.