It's The Sun

Monsoon season has supposedly ended and now the heat wave arrives. The entire month of October will reach higher temperatures than the hottest week of the summer in Wisconsin. It’s not the type of sun you prefer. It is the malicious one that beats down upon you, the object in the sky that blinds so much that one cannot even look at it for more than a mere tenth of a second. The type of sun directly in the middle of the sky that does not seem to change its position until it sets at the end of the day. One cannot help but perspire to unprecedented amounts here, to the point where you clothes are soaked as you just had been through a rain shower. Interesting to see the sweat patterns each person forms, as it was a collection of Rorschach blots. Looks like you have a graphic tee after a long walk or bike ride.
The sun is getting to me in other ways as well, zapping my energy and capability. It just so happens that the hottest month of the time I am here coincides with the intermediary time. It has a compounding effect. The full semester mentality, one I usually get by the third week of the term back at school, has not set in entirely. It seems that my surroundings are a better illustration of the material than the lectures of class.
To actually witness the cultural subtleties and processes of living in a household is an experience that many are deprived from when they study abroad. It can be an ambivalent situation at times when the adjustment to the household dynamics is still continuing. But that is how it should be, something where I have to adjust. If there were not an initial level of unfamiliarity than it would detract from the larger experience. For the first time in my college career, I am living back in a household until which I have to conform to certain expectations and understandings. It places slight limitations of the previous uninhibited independence of which I had enjoyed.
But the compromise, exchange and experience of living with my host family are beyond making the small sacrifice. To wake up every morning and have breakfast prepared, to partake conversations at the dinner table about the same issues that I am learning about in class, to learn about all the ingredients and spices that go into all the heavenly meals my aai (host mother) makes, and to use the small amount of Marathi that I know in the proper setting.
Sometimes my host family can be so fictionalized that they might as well be television characters. Ramesh, my baba (host father), is like a more congenial Archie Bunker from All in the Family. His favorite sayings are “Correct!” with so much enthusiasm and pride that he seems to be an expert on the multitude of topics we discuss. He maintains that the area of Pune we live in is the cleanest and least polluted, for both air and noise, by stating “his air…” When you say something to his liking, he shakes his head in agreement with such a slight head-turn and squinting eyes that look as though his is a moment of blissful mediation.
My aai is entirely the grandmother type, full of proverbs, wit and above all, a supreme cook. Her life revolves around the household, which she commands regardless of the supposed patriarchy. Aai has a cheery, full-hearted laugh that is brought out when I have my moments of cultural misinterpretation or occasional spastic tendencies. Her small snaggle-tooth completes her genuine smile, and she is always dressing up in her colorful saris even though she rarely leaves the house unless it’s for a special occasion. She remains me of the grandmother from Hey Arnold, just less impulsive and crazy, like the snow day episode.
My host sister, Preeti, is the main income earner in the family since both my host parents are retired. She works long hours and lives a consumptive lifestyle but she has her good intentions. Her personality is kind of opposite of the meaning of her name, which is Marathi means love. But she remains confident of herself in all situations, sometimes to the extreme. As when I was in the car with the complete family and she had a fits of road rage. I was just sitting in the backseat and this car in front of us would not move out of the way. Seeing drivers in Pune while walking down the street is already erratic enough but when it comes to being it the car, it’s an entirely different experience. Preeti proceeded to roll down her window, and began using very expletive in Marahti. Then, the baba and aai joined in as I sat in the backseat, tried and just wide-eyed. Quite the introduction to the drivers of Pune.
All the times with my host family have been a fascinating moment of cultural observation and adaptation. Its unlike the times I have had with family and friends back in the state but the core of the moment there is some internal familiarity in being around the family dynamic. A sense which is a nice separation and departure from the my college time back in the States.