No Swordfighting Please

It’s a bit early to come to conclusions about the country, but I think that I have come to some conclusions about this city, Delhi. There are two non-negotiables, two things that I do not think that I will ever become accustomed to no matter how many moons I call this city my home. The first: public urination. I think I came to this realization the other day when I caught a glimpse of a man part that is better saved for um, private moments, to say the least… the very least. This left me a bit frazzled; I was on the phone with John at the time and did a double take. “Um, honey, I just saw a man part but I didn’t do it on purpose I promise.” Most of the urination happens against walls, and apparently homeowners/wall builders have come up with clever little tricks to discourage people from relieving themselves on private property. It may take the form of painting phrases in Hindi such as “a donkey pees here” or putting small hollows in the wall with such and such god or goddess.

The second thing that I thought I could tolerate is the staring. Every man, young and old, stares. Trust me, I’m not trying to flatter myself here or am suffering from hyper-paranoia. The men just stare, and not in a threatening manner as I have not felt unsafe here so far. It is also quite different than the way American men stare at women in more of a lustful, pathetically salivating sort of way. It is also different than the stares that my anglo friends received in places like China and Korea because everyone stares at the anglos, kids and halmonis, ajoshis and ajumas. I suppose it is a curious (specifically male to female) gaze with little expectation other than satisfying the curiosity of the watcher. Perhaps it is the objectivity and therefore objectification of the gaze, the assumption of the right to be the watcher with no reproof, no disincentive to do so that is beginning to irk me, the watched.

I must at this point clarify that another non-negotiable is PMS and Delhi. Oil and water basically. So I come not with my usual cheerful rose-colored glasses, but rather with my smoggy tape-bandaged frames. That may have been too much information and thus classifies me as “inappropriate content” to be linked to the AIF fellow blog, but such is life. So back to the staring. In this frustrated state for the past few days, I have tried a few tactics of my own to discourage wanton gazes: staring back in a very angry disgruntled sort of way, rolling my eyes dramatically, shaking my head, flicking people off (now now, I’m not that culturally insensitive and usually do it in a very passive, arm pointing down sort of way), and yes, I have tried the path of patience and coldly walk by. This final method has left me extremely unsatisfied for the past three weeks as it does not dissuade or in any way reprimand these men! Grrrr. Must…find...happy... medium……