By Kate Wallace, 1/21/2015. I originally had accommodation plans to stay in the guesthouse of an American family in Delhi. I quickly realized once I got to India that I would learn a lot more by living with an Indian family to entirely submerge myself in the culture here. One of boys I work for offered to let me live with him and his family. Today was my move in day, and it was interesting to say at the least.
I am not really sure what I brought here since it feels like I am rotating between three outfits total, but I have this massive duffle bag that has been next to impossible to lug around with me the past week. Today I brought it to work with me and then was going to bring to home with my new roommate to move into my house. I didn’t realize that from today’s office location he takes a rickshaw and then the subway to get home. When he told me this my first thought was: Uho.
I had never been in a rickshaw before and was already nervous begin out on the crazy Delhi streets in what felt like a tin can. We squeezed in the back with my huge duffle bag on our laps. At least it kept us warm, the weather here is very unexpectedly cold. I couldn’t stop squealing the whole way. Out of every challenging moment in India, this was one of the most terrifying. I couldn’t stop picturing the rickshaw being hit by a car, toppling over and then me getting squished by my massive duffel bag. I would probably break an arm or a leg and my brothers would say it was my fault for being such a pack-rat. Anyways, we made it out of the death cab alive and entered the subway.
The subway in Delhi is unbelievably crowded. There is possibly no place where overpopulation is so obvious. We stood like tetris in the train, carefully balanced between other peoples body parts, my duffle bag placed at our feet. People excitedly hurried over to where the duffle bag was thinking there was an empty place to stand, only to be disappointed that they too were stuck cheek to cheek with strangers for the next 40 minutes. We finally arrived at our stop and were walking with my duffle bag to the exit when I heard a huge rip. We both looked at each other with horror stricken faces. The zipper on my bag popped. All my belongings started bursting out of the bag in the middle of the busy station. Serves me right.
Fortunately I had packed a smaller duffle bag in anticipation of bringing Christmas gifts home (I really am a pack-rat). We wrapped the smaller duffle bag around the big one to try to hold it closed, each took a strap and carefully balanced it so it didn’t spill as we walked out of the station. We had to navigate hoards of people and crossing the busy Delhi streets until we reached the car. I apologized profusely the whole time and my friend just laughed, saying “In India you expect things to go wrong, you just have to laugh and figure out how to make it work.” Thinking about it later I realized this was a good life lesson in general. Maybe I overpacked for a reason.
It is the birthday of the mother who I am living with and I wanted to bring her something as a birthday present and a thank you for welcoming me into her home. I asked her son what she likes, and he said to bring her a mutton wrap (yes, he did mean a goat sandwich). I quickly headed to the nearest flower shop to get her a bouquet.
When I arrived at the house my friend told me to sit in the living room with his grandmother. We tried to talk but it was hard as her first language is Hindi and she didn’t speak much english. I showed her the flowers and asked her where to put them. She pointed and said something but I didn’t understand so I stood up and tried to put them on the table. She said something again so I decided this wasn’t right, and tried somewhere else. All of a sudden I was bouncing around the room trying to put the flowers on different surfaces, and every time she said no and pointed again. I eventually saw other flowers that were on a little table, but mine weren’t in a vase so I couldn’t stand them up. But I thought this was what she meant so I put them on the floor next to the table. The table was behind the couch. By this point the grandmother had given up trying to tell me where to put them. Then the mother came in and I said “hi! I’m Kate! I brought you flowers, they’re behind the couch!” The mother looked at me and then at the grandmother who just shrugged. They must have been wondering who this strange Western girl was who comes into their home and puts flowers behind the couch as a gift.
I must have been nervous but the family was so incredibly warm and welcoming I quickly felt right at home. Indian hospitality is like nothing I have seen before. Even though it was his mothers birthday they welcomed me into the birthday photos and to eat cake with them. I feel very fortunate to be able to call this my home over my stay here and am going to learn a lot about what it means to be in an Indian family. I can already see differences such as his sister doing the cooking for the whole family. The only thing I contribute to my family dinners is the occasional burnt brownie.