Taking the last walk on the hillside, seeing the hazy, opaque city before me covered in the smog and pollution of constant growth with the foothills barely recognizable, hearing the pounding piano, dissonant guitars and instrumentals of the Velvet Underground, I still cannot fathom it is the last day that I reside in Pune. The city that I have called home, albeit sporadically, for the past four months. Beside me on the hilltop was a herd of cattle with brightly painted horns and chiming bells, quietly and effortlessly eating grass. Looking out at the vast city with no discernable horizon and turning back to the herd of cow, the juxtaposition of tradition and modernization was never more apparent. Never before have I been in a city where a shining, brand-new Mercedes has to dodge farm animals on the street. Never will I have the opportunity to take rickshaws daily, despite the occasional pestering because of the valas, to class. May never get the chance to eat the most scrumptious, greasiest, fried potato sandwiches for only chump-change and be full to the point of incapacitation. Will miss surprising shopkeepers and food-venders with the most basic Marathi that I can muster. Nowhere else will I get the opportunity to partake in such a variety of delectable, vegetarian dishes, with spice and flavor of few comparisons, which has kept my palate from desiring meat for the past four months (with the exception of fish). Few places can I travel and see a country on the precipice of such change, of economic expansion, of personal accumulation, of rapid development. Of such contrast and paradox.
On the whole, through all the ebb and flow, India has lived up its reputation. Pune stands as representation of all the growth, both economic and personal, which consumes the mentality of most people in India these days. Home to one of the largest universities in the world, the city contains a burgeoning bourgeois that eagerly express their newfound capital. Adjacent to the entrance of the University, under the concrete pillars of the expressway, lies a group of people that call the streets home. Each day on the commute to school, while waiting in the rickshaw at the intersection, the three of us are come face to face with at least a couple children, just kids, whose dirty faces serve as reminder of the more neglected parts of Indian society. Their request is simple enough, for any spare change or food, and if they receive it, they quietly move on to the next vehicle. For initial month, we were told by the program not to give the beggars anything, regardless of their age or circumstances. Hearing this was one thing, but witnessing on a daily basis is another. You come to a point of desensitization, of impassivity when you hear the pleas of the child but there is an internal presence that you cannot ignore, calling your attention and sympathy, clawing at your insides that maybe you can make a partial impact in this child’s life. But as an outsider, you are caught in a paradox. Knowing of the extreme disparity in wealth and status, you acknowledge the futility that you may be helping one child but on the aggregate, your charity means nothing. There a billion people in this country. As the entire world (and all of human history), there will always be a divide between the rich and poor. Poverty in America can be just as crippling for an individual as it is in India. The difference though is it is not as apparent stateside as it is here. Because of this, you always have the dichotomy in your mind on whether you should give or not.
Leaving tomorrow for a month of travel after leaving in Pune for the past four months, I realize the privilege of being a white foreigner who has the capability and capital to be a guest in this country. It is a position that I am both humbled and grateful for. This has meant that, at times, India has produced contradictory feelings for me. I compare to what I know even though I know this leads to biased interpretation. As much as I try to negate this understanding, within the moment, especially one of unfamiliarity, irritability or uncertainty, I think and react the way I do. I cannot help always but India has taught me patience is a necessity in all situations. Anyone who is remain insistently organized and methodological, this is not the country for you. As the expression goes, you have to go with the flow of it, and India personifies this mentality. Being here has truly made me less insistent and more flexible about timing, about transportation and of expectations.
Saying goodbye to my host family and finally leaving Pune is the point where I will acknowledge that I no longer reside in this city. By leaving, I will not have the somewhat stability and familiarity that I have grown accustomed to, replaced by a sense of travel and adventure. This is the mentality that I came to India with: a desire to explore, observe, interact and connect. Throughout my time here, I have tried to follow this mindset as much as I could but during semester time certain barriers arise that are not always apt for it. A month of unrestricted travel will allow for such. No constraints (finances aside) remain, meaning all that is before me are open landscapes and serene beaches. Let the good times roll.
