life: in progress

(this is who i was) (this is who i am) (this is who i want to be) You know those little spongy things that start out really tiny and then you put them in a glass of water and they grow bigger? They squish up against the sides of the glass and you think they’re done growing, but if you put them in the bathtub, they will get even bigger? It’s like I just got put into a bathtub and realized that I have so much more room to grow. I feel like I’m outgrowing my clothes. I mean, as a person, I’m just taking in so much that I don’t even think there’s room for it all in my head (hopefully the overflow doesn’t go to my hips). My current, somewhat narrow worldview and understanding of things literally can’t even keep up with everything my mind is learning. What do you do when this happens? Well, you buy new clothes. I don’t know exactly when this process began. But if I could draw it on a graph, it would look something like a series of exponential curves, with ea

He was charming.   I wanted a picture of the trees and he happened to be walking and saw me take it and stopped to tease me about how he also needed a picture of me, since I now had one of him.   I smiled; he got his picture.   He was the first person I communicated with on my own in India.  We talked for a while about the basics…family, where we’re from, why we’re in Bangalore, etc.   He’s from Tamil Nadu.   Then, he said to me, “But I am not an Indian."   Alright...I’ve only been here a few days, but you sure look like an Indian, and Tamil Nadu is definitely an Indian state...   He read the puzzled look on my face.   “You see, I am a Dalit.   I was taught to not even consider myself a citizen of India.”   You’re kidding.  Is this real?  What is he saying to me?     (sorry it’s backwards) “Let me tell you how the caste system works.   Picture a ll of India as a man.   His head is the highest caste, the priests.   His torso is the warrior caste.   His legs are the

  Chai is the Hindi word for tea.   I planned my days around chai, not only for the time it took to drink it, but also for the inevitable response of my digestive system to caffeine. I loved tea, both for the actual tea itself, and also for the idea of it.   Time taken out of the day to just slow down and enjoy each other’s company, ah what a concept for an uptight Westerner like me who plans my days in 30-minute increments!   At Visthar, we began the day at 7:00am with self-serve chai in a gazebo type area.   There was a roof, but no walls.   I loved the symbolism of that place because I think it captured the atmosphere of Visthar: a canopy of love and justice and equality, but no walls to keep anyone in or out.   Morning tea was often one of my favorite times of the day.   It meant not just waking up in the cool, crisp air, but also the start (or continuation) of enriching discussions with R and M.   After a few intense hours of class, which was mostly debunking all