Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Varanasi I: “The Krishnamurti Retreat Center”

Summary: Earlier this month, I visited Varanasi on a trip to assess a potential site for DSH and DPC. A sense of calmness, introspection, and contemplativeness overtook us at the serene “Krishnamurti Retreat Center.” Through this trip, DPC has decided to pursue a partnership with the Krishnamurti Foundation India, while DSH has decided to postpone setting up a spoke site at the school.

Time seems to travel differently in India, where a lot happens in a short period of time followed by a long period of nothingness. In short, April has been nothing but, thanks in particular to Varanasi. This first part is the relaxing and rejuvenating part of our trip.

Richa (former StudyHall School teacher and the newest member of the DSH team) had arranged a trip for Urvashi and Anna to scope out a potential site for DSH and DPC at a rural center in Varanasi, run by the Krishnamurti Foundation India (KFI). Not only were Elizabeth and I given the opportunity to tag along on this trip, but we (with Anna) also decided to stay through the weekend to explore the city.

We reached Varanasi in the morning after a rather uneventful overnight train ride, though we were lucky enough to spot rats, cows, and monkeys at the train station. The car took us to what I’ve since dubbed the Krishnamurti Retreat Center (KRC), located in the outskirts of the city. When we entered the site, I immediately felt a sense of internal calmness and peacefulness, something I hadn’t realized I’d lost during my previous two months in Lucknow. Simply said, the KRC is a natural, serene setting whose natural beauty encourages spirituality and introspection.

We spent the next two days in meetings and observing the rural site, though in our free time, we explored the KRC and took some time to read and write. The school echoed the beauty and serenity of the KRC, though our meetings surfaced some critical challenges facing KFI and its operations. While DPC is moving forward with developing a partnership with KFI, we have decided that to postpone DSH adoption for numerous reasons, including:
Financial Instability: KFI is facing some serious financial challenges, with (a) no means of revenue generation, and (b) students not paying any form of tuition whatsoever. They don’t have the funds to expand their school and accommodate more students, as they can’t afford to hire more teachers.

Misdirected Efforts: KFI leadership has been recently focusing on villagers who are encroaching upon their land. Rather than devising a scheme to partner with the villagers to improve conditions of all parties involved, leadership has been preoccupied with finding ways to block out the villagers.

Misinformed Sense of Scale: The principal of the school has decided to focus on quality over quantity. To this end, he has capped class size to 25 students. Such intentions are good; the problem is that he can easily reach more students by increasing his class size without sacrificing quality.
Assessing the school site was only half the experience of staying at KRC, however. The other half includes attending KRC events, such as film night and discussion night. These were focused on better understanding Krishnamurti’s teachings, as that is the goal of most folks at the center. Unfortunately, my writing won’t do justice to what I experienced these two evenings, as my mind has seemingly retained abstract memories of the experience, but not the specifics.
Film Night: There is a weekly film night that focuses on a specific topic in Krishnamurti’s teachings. Unfortunately, Krishnamurti is not the most eloquent of speakers, nor is he particularly charismatic. The video was filmed at a conference, and was continually punctured with self-posed Q&A like, “Are you following me? I do not believe you are following.” or “Are you listening? This is very, very serious information, and if you are not listening, I ask that you leave.” I managed to focus long enough to follow his logic, however, and he makes some strong arguments which are worth some thought. It is most unfortunate that I cannot recall his argument, nor the general topic of discussion. Philosophy was never my strong suit.

Discussion Night: Hosted by Professor Krishna (not Krishnamurti), this event is meant to clarify any questions that have arisen about Krishnamurti’s teachings in people’s self-exploration the previous week. One particularly vibrant discussion arose from the question of whether there really is a separate “inner” and “outer,” or whether they are simply different manifestations of the “whole.” Again, I wish there were more I retained from this hour+ of discussion.
Special types of conversations emerge from being in a setting with folks who are all philosophizing about their lives. I was sitting by a tree writing one afternoon, and was approached by a man who wanted to engage in conversation. We quickly jumped into life philosophy, as he has been at the KRC for two years (whereas most people stay only 2-3 days) studying Krishnamurti’s teachings. I asked him how being at KRC for so long has changed how he would live his life in tangible ways, and his answer was a long-winded response akin to, “I have learned about the negative energy that comes from within many of us. Everything is built from relationships, and that is the most important thing.” Perhaps it was because of language differences, or perhaps it’s because I’m no philosopher. But that answer I just didn’t find satisfying.

I sometimes wonder if I’m too far on the “practical” end of the spectrum, and whether I should inch closer to the “philosophizing” end. For me, knowledge itself is not an end; it is useful insomuch as it has a tangible impact. For example, understanding the importance of relationships is only the first step; what’s more important to me is learning how to improve my relationships. For example, how can I make sure I understand the other person’s needs, spoken and unspoken? How can I ensure I’m a good friend / sister / daughter / mother / etc.? I need some practical tools, and I need to actually practice them; otherwise it’s just knowledge wasted.

A friend recently said that I was “too rational.” Perhaps he is right, in which case my “practical” solution is to pick up one of Krishnamurti’s books and begin dissecting his teachings. Wait, who am I kidding?

Sunday, April 5, 2009

“Mai Chini Hu”

Summary: Etiquette says you shouldn’t attend a party empty-handed; Indian etiquette adds the stipulation that you shouldn’t leave a gathering without giving a performance of your own. On another note, being Chinese here is no easy task, as folks have preconceived notions of who you are, making every act a decision to either confirm or disconfirm those preconceptions.

Note to self: Do your homework before you attend a “small” social gathering. This could be relevant in any culture, in terms of understanding the context and knowing who else might be in attendance, but India takes it to a different level. Be prepared.

Last night, Auntie Sadhna (landlady) and the Doctor (aka “Uncle,” or her husband) hosted a family gathering to celebrate Uncle’s nephew’s completion of dental surgery training. As her three daughters (she calls us such, for she has no children of her own), we were invited to partake in the festivities, which were to commence at 7:30 pm.

We reach downstairs around 7:45, shortly after which food was served. Five different dishes, including some Manchurian paneer (for me) and french fries (for the whities). [This reminded me of the time we were over for dinner and they made cucumber sandwiches for Anna and chow mien for me.] Massive amounts of food (and five different family members making sure you get refills), and it wasn’t until later that I learned that it was an appetizer for them, and dinner had yet to come. (Oh, boy!) Amidst all this, Uncle (the Doctor) asks me, “You like Chinese food?” (This after a conversation last week about how tiffin / lunch from Didi’s at the office is delectable despite the fact that it’s not Chinese.) “Yes, sir. But I also really like eating Indian food too. I like many different cuisines.” Anna chimes in, “But Chinese is your favorite, right?” “Um, well, I grew up eating it, but I also really like Indian food.” Thanks, Anna.

So we finish with pre-dinner and are talking when the aunties all decide they want Anna (and Elizabeth) to perform a song. (Sitting in a corner across the room, I was slightly better sheltered from the attention.) Five minutes later, they are still empty-handed and Anna turns their attention to the niece, who sings in a stunningly beautiful voice a Hindi song. Five minutes later, the grandmother performs, followed by a duet from the nephew and niece.

Auntie Sadhna turns to me. “Do you sing?” “No.” Giggle, sheepish grin, and blush. “Sing a Chinese song for us?” “No, really, I don’t sing. And I don’t know any Chinese songs. Really.” Blush, giggle, repeat. Five minutes later, they decide they want to dance and have opened up the room next door. We start leaving (saying “Urvashi is wondering when we’ll be able to make it to her dinner + movie night”), and as we walk out the door, we’re pulled into the next room where the uncles are dancing (“jigging”) to Hindi music. Anna busts a move, and another 5 minutes later we finally make our grand exit.

The note to self refers to the need to have a song prepared for occasions as such. Because such occasions arise pretty regularly, and the need for a song and/or dance is important so as to not disappoint the gracious hosts.

Because we had to leave before actual dinner was served last night, Auntie wanted to pack up the food for us to enjoy the next day. Instead, we negotiated a lunch date with her for today. So we went back today, and had a very enjoyable lunch at 3 pm. (She was fasting and did not partake; only served us.) As we were getting ready to leave, we were talking about inviting her upstairs one day. She replies, “I’d like to learn to cook Chinese food.” Smile and hug.

I think that when people see me, they see “Chinese” first, and “female” second. And I can’t escape the fact that I’m Chinese here, even with folks who have come to know me as an individual. Phrases like “chow mien hair” (which Elizabeth has) or comments like, “Please sing us a Chinese song” make me hyperaware and hypersensitive to my ethnic background. While I embrace my Chinese background, it does not define me, nor do I want it to define my interactions. (Plus, how can I teach her how to cook Manchurian paneer? Or bok choy, when that doesn’t exist here?)

My biggest struggle with this is: When should I embrace my roots and confirm stereotypes and fulfill expectations, and when should I make an effort to break from the mold they’ve built?