Several episodes have shown me aspects of this culture that I cannot appreciate. In the beginning it was mainly lifestyle issues with which I struggled, such as when I could go out, where I was allowed to go, who I was allowed to meet and befriend, what I was allowed to eat, and personal space. As some of my lifestyle choices began to upset my family, other issues came to light, such as the uncompromising attitude of the family. The views they so strongly hold are typical and common and acceptable in the Brahmin community from which they are spawned.

In any normal foreign traveler's experience, lifestyle differences are easily overcome by adopting the ones that must be changed as a consequence of living in the new place, and keeping the existing ones that you are comfortable with, as long as they do not cause too much trouble for others. It is usually this simple, but when you are "taken care of" by relatives and other people who claim to have some kind of power over you, unless those people respect your position as an independent being, they interfere with every aspect of your daily living. I don't think it's so much a result of being "taken care of" by them, but rather, their traditional Brahmin views of upbringing and inability to see outside of their views that causes many petty squabbles.

For a few months, I simply couldn't understand how the minutest and most insignificant of my actions could cause them to worry and be upset over me. I was unaware of the effect I had on them. I only came to know, as time wore on, that they were hurt. I still can't understand why they were hurt, and I didn't understand then, either, but I decided that because they seemed so childishly sensitive to these meaningless actions, that I would either hide them or simply stop doing them. Just as an example, there was a second apartment, uninhabited for the first three months of my stay, which I would frequent in order to have some privacy. I would hang out there, singing, reading, studying Japanese, or whatever, killing time, as it were, and come home in the evening. They would be upset that I came home after six rather than before. I took this as a silly thing at first but only later came to realize that they were deeply upset by this action of mine, which I continued to do since I thought nothing of it. Now in a normal traveler's experience, coming and going would be at his own whims and he would have to report to no other person. But instead, my experience was, at my adult age and stage in life, I had to answer to these people as if I were pre-adolescent.

And so, time wore on, and I began searching for a new place to live, wanting badly to move out. As I made these preparations known, I was met with a hostility and foreboding as I have never seen before. They intended to keep me where they could see my every action so as not to taint their reputations, as I came to learn in time. A daughter of theirs living away from the family is disreputable, even if that daughter is not of the surrounding culture, an adult, and perfectly independent in lifestyle, thought, and behavior. It's a Brahmin community thing, as I understand it.

So I felt myself in a bit of bind: they accepted no compromise in terms of my lifestyle, in terms of making my stay more comfortable for me, and I was also not allowed to find my own way. Every wish of mine was met with hostility and the words, "don't be unreasonable." I suffered many lonely nights of anger and insomnia throughout January and part of February. I couldn't sing let alone calm down and rest my mind. I began to harbor murderous thoughts, which now that I look back, strike me as slightly overboard. Even at the time I was aware of the ridiculousness of it all, but nevertheless, the feeling of rage was unsubsiding. I turned to my singing teacher for help and advice, since now I had stopped practicing. I divulged the less distressing of the details of my unhappy circumstances to her and sought some advice. Her patience and compassion calmed and relieved my heavy heart. I began to sleep again and practice singing again without choking. I could do nothing but cease to allow these things to disrupt my peace of mind. I was not able to change the circumstances, which led to my anger, but now I simply had to accept that the changes could not be made by any stroke of luck, and the least I could do was try not to be stressed out. Since stress is a silent killer.

I came to understand that family reputation is highly important in this society. People watch one another and talk about one another far more than in any other culture I have seen. Auto rickshaw drivers watch people from their auto stands, and note carefully who goes where, when, and with whom. These very same were watching me and located my family to report my actions to them. It took too much effort to continue to hide my actions, and I am not one to care so much as to scheme strategies and tactics of secrecy. Nothing that I do is worth that effort. I do not have some great mission in my life to hang out with friends or go out to dinner or see a movie. I prefer to live my life peacefully and with openness of heart. So I simply let these things go.

I once invited my best friend here over to my house, without any regard for how the family would take it. After all, they were constantly inviting their friends over, and I didn't get in their way about it. So I figured they would, at best, not get in my way about it, either. The visit was pleasant, as they tried their best to uphold their reputation as excellent hosts, but later, after my friend had left, I was scolded and berated for having invited him over. I was, of course, prepared for that kind of behavior from them, and understood their tongue-in-cheek reasons for having a problem: 1, that boys were not allowed into the apartment building at night, and 2, that the watchman has to lock the gate at ten. But I also felt their deep mistrust and feeling of uneasiness by the character of my friend. Rest assured that he was one the kindest souls and purest hearts I had ever met, let alone in India, but to his misfortune (or whose misfortune is it?) he happened to be Muslim, in poverty, and dark-skinned. There are only a few unsaid and unwrittten things that I have come to understand about this culture, but this one is the clearest: Brahmins don't associate with non-Brahmins, except very rarely and under unavoidable circumstances, and they absolutely do not associate with Muslims or dark-skinned people by any stretch of the imagination.

After this episode, I ceased all contact with him and the other friends I had made during my visit here. There seemed to be no point in even calling or messaging them as I could never see them or share any kind of experience of sharing or growing closer. I couldn't display myself to the people I cared about as a distant, cold-hearted person without a will independent of her family. I simply could not interact in that way with them. I tried to explain my situation, but such explanations only go so far. In the end, the interaction that is needed to allow a friendship to blossom is undermined by unchangable circumstances. Thus I came to live my days as I do currently, peacefully in Tai Chi meditation, reading, writing, drawing, thinking, praciticing singing and drumming, and occasionally online chatting. Every month or so, I make a phone call to a friend overseas just to hear a kind, familiar voice and share some meaningful expressions.

I suppose this account explains a little about why I find this place unhabitable. Most of the unpleasantness is a result of my position as part of an Indian family, and I have considered that I could adapt much better to this place as a normal traveler. But that is an impossibility in my situation. Even if I were to attempt to return on my own terms, the "caretakers" who have no concept of compromise would continue their ways. Also I failed to mention basic necessities which are lacking in this city, such as clean air, whole wheat (without sugar or salt or preservatives), and right-of-way. I've managed to get along in some fashion without those three but I don't think a visit extended any longer than it currently has would find me in a satisfactory state of health. Nevertheless, I am glad to have pulled through this experience, for it has illuminated a great many valuable things about human nature, adaptation, and myself.