Christmas Plans

December brings my parents, who come for just a couple to days to make sure I'm not being scammed. They leave, somewhat mollified, but not without commenting pointedly that I still dress like I'm living in the gaon (village). I think the ahimsa (non-violence) vow must be working, because instead of giving my usual caustic retort (“So?”) I say mildly that I'll think about it.

Though I doubt Gandhi would have celebrated Christmas (as a tolerant man he would have supported the expression of faith, but most likely would have balked at the consumerism), this doesn't seem to bother me as I experience Christmas for the second time in India, and the second time without my family.

It's different this time around, as I'm in a city where I can delight in fake snow flakes and trees twinkling with little lights. This time last year I was teaching the village kids about Christmas, failing when I didn't know the Hindi words for Three Wise Men, the Baby Jesus, or sleighs. This year there is the addition of a tiny tree with little ornaments on my desk at work. I never really cared about Christmas before, but I think it's my way of getting back at Christmas for being on a Sunday, which I would have had off anyway.

Christmas this year also means no presents, but it's ok because I have a frisbee and two friends, Anupam and Dhanajay. We take my disc to and organization called Jamghat, which works with girls from low- income communities. We spend a couple of hours teaching the girls, aged 5- 15, to throw and catch the disc. Some are better than others, but it doesn't matter because they all smile. And we find ourselves smiling back. I don't know if Anupam could have seen it coming that he'd be such a huge hit with Varsha, who demands that he pick her up, or that I think Dhananjay's mission in life should be to teach 5-year- olds how to hold a disc. Better still when we see one of the 5-year-olds teach one of the four- year-olds how to throw with one hand, when Dhananjay rewards first-time catches with a sincere congratulatory hand shake.

The entire experience reminds me of my Indicorps year. From the time we walk in and whisper, “Do we have a plan?” To which my response is “Oh of course not, but don't worry about it, I know a ton of songs and games.” Then till the time we leave, when the girls crowd around us and ask when we'll be coming back. I can't really think of a good answer, so I give the honest one. That we'll come when we can. I fuss over the sustainability, measuring impact but then I shove it all aside. I learned to measure my year in smiles and hugs, little hands thrust into your hand, eyes lighting up with joy when a disc dropped ten times has just been caught- and I don't plan to change my indicators.

My heart aches a little as we leave, but the good kind of ache. The sort of ache when you realize that you are blessed, and that you have the capacity to love fully, fiercely.

As I get ready for bed I start when I see that my outfit for the day was a red kurta, white salwar, and white dupatta. It's almost-- almost irony I think.

But I'm no Santa, I'm just Sumita, and maybe there is always more I can do. But I can't deny that I just experienced one of my favorite Christmases ever. 

Happy Holidays everyone!  

Vow 1: Ahimsa, Learning Delhi, Sweaters

With the FDI bill in hot debate perhaps the most sensible vow to practice first is Swadesh (buying locally produced goods). Yes, I suppose this is my not-so-subtle tiff with the bill, but as I was walking to work this morning, I started thinking more about ahimsa, non-violence. Gandhi's idea of non-violence extended beyond the physical act, encompassing non-violence of speech, of thought. I used to think it shouldn't be so difficult; I'm not one to physically lash out at anyone. But midway through my morning I realize I've already failed on two counts- one- giving the finger to a cyclist (I don't even know if that means anything here but still) and two- glowering at my computer screen, wondering if googlesites is intentionally making me feel like an incompetent idiot. Throughout the day I notice little things. How often I swear (even if it's in my head), or how easy it is for for me to fume at myself, muttering “idiot” under by breath. It's too easy for me to resent the bus driver, want to punch the rickshaw that narrowly missed me on the road.

I think about it on my way home from work, stopped by a family on their way to somewhere. They are young, thin, and brown, and for a second I think I must know them. This has been happening more and more to me these days- I recognize the saris I only see on village women, bright with swirls of gold and silver sequence. The dressing up sari, the traveling sari. And I wonder, where did you come from? Are you from my village?

She starts speaking rapidly, explaining that they were traveling from Maharasthra and something had happened to their money. I had stopped paying attention. This is also happening more and more these days- listening and speaking as if I hadn't just spent a year in trying to painstakingly learn some combination of Hindi and an obscure dialect of Marwari, blocking out the hand gestures and facial expressions that I had learned to watch for.

I try to explain as patiently as I can that I don't have the money. It's not a lie, I really just try to carry just what I need for the bus fair. “It's cold. I have nothing.” My thin grey cardigan is nothing special, but she's right, it's cold.

I leave the family, sweater-less. Thinking. I'm trying to understand the transaction that just occurred, and I find that my eyes are prickling. I'm confused.

As I walk home the economist voice in me screams, how could you give away your sweater? The social worker chides me for perpetuating the problem, for creating dependence, for not seeing that there are poorer people who need sweaters. But what does my voice say, the one that is trying to live a non-violent life in Delhi, a city where I see violence everywhere. And for once, I'm silent.

I'm carefully not thinking about it till dinner, or something. I guess. Well I guess when it comes down to it I wouldn't have cared if it was someone else. If it were my friend, even if she was wearing Versace shades or carried a Louis Vuitton bag, I'd give her my sweater and not really care if it came back to me or not. So why does this feel so different? After awhile it doesn't. When I think about it, maybe it's luxury to be able to “give things.” But it's also really cold outside. I think I have a lot to learn about Ahimsa, about Gandhi. It's been two days- I've sworn at least five times, thought someone's shirt was ugly, and... and maybe started to re-learn what it's like to give from a space of love.   

The First Post

So I'm not exactly working a corporate job, in fact I'm very lucky to be working for a start up social enterprise that is seeking to connect farmers to organic produce markets (more on this later). And perhaps I should clarify I'm not exactly a Gandhian. I have a lot of respect for Gandhi, and I had the opportunity to live a fairly simple lifestyle for a year when I was doing a fellowship in rural Rajasthan. I was partnered with an organization that works to empower farmers through livelihoods, access to education, and through building a coalition.

I had a chance to immerse myself into rural life, and attempt to truly understand the community of farmers I was living in. I often wondered if my life was simple by convenience, for what could I really spend on in a village. Additionally, I was constantly conscious of existing gaps between my previous life and the lives of the villagers around me- and aware of the fact that people around lived simply due to budget constraints rather than by choice. Now I've moved to Delhi, a city that is on the other end of the spectrum of the India I was beginning to understand last year. I've decided I'm going to try to live as simply as possible, meaning carefully discerning between my needs and wants. So for the next 11 months I'm going to take on one of Gandhi's vows, and see how they relate to my life in the city, and my life in a business environment.

I often discussed the relevance of Gandhian values with my peers during my Indicorps year. We pondered the how applicable these values were our lives today, and if Gandhi that tapped into something deeper, special, or was just crazy. And maybe it's all those things. Maybe it's crazy. Or maybe I'll really learn something. I thought through which vows I felt would be the most difficult, but the truth is they all require thought, discipline, and careful self-awareness.  

Perhaps more than anything I'm curious. After all, Gandhi was all for experimenting with his values and his truths. By the end of this week I'll pick a vow, and then see how it plays out for a month. 

Ahimsa Nonviolence Satya Truth Asteya Non Stealing Brahmacharya Self Discipline Aparigraha Non-Possession Sharirshrama Bread Labor Aswada Control of the Palate Sarvatra Bhayavarjana Fearlessness Sarva Dharma Samantva Equality of All Religions Swadeshi Use Locally Made Goods Sparshbhavana Remove Untouchability