Being Indian, part two

I first wrote about what could easily be called my existential angst over being Indian [heh] back in December of 2005, again while in Singapore after a trip to New Delhi. I’ve never really been comfortable with being called an Indian, an issue I suppose with my sense of rootlessness.

But this post on MeFi with such evocative links of the intangible India reminded me of what I had realized while under the Rajasthani sky one night. That I could finally come to terms with my love/hate relationship with India. By separating it into the intangible and the tangible I could both acknowledge my visceral reaction to the songs, the movies, the landscape and the concept of India while accepting my equal but opposite reaction to the role those of my gender have to conform to in this historically patriarchal society. I am an anomaly but at least I’m learning to live with it.

Just that song with dancers on the Blue Mountain express which is a narrow gauge coal engine you can ride from Ooty in the hills to Mettupalyam in the flatlands of Tamil Nadu. I have ridden that train one vacation with my Italian landlady and her young son. SRK of course needs no introduction to any self respecting Indian female with half a brain in her head. I get great pleasure from knowing that a friend played on the same football team as him in school and a cousin is married into his wife’s family. Hee! Only in India could it be this way. Totally surreal.

So that makes me ponder a little – omg did you know that the year 2010 is just three years away?

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