During the first leg of our travels we were with a team of a dozen Americans who were serving alongside us. And someone brought HOLY COW: An Indian Adventure to read. The book was passed around to multiple readers, read aloud over dinner and break times, and the whole group was constantly finding release in the laughter that this book provoked. I cannot tell you if this book is as funny to someone who has never traveled to India, but to us it was affirmation that our thoughts about how crazy this country was were not, well, crazy.
The author (a native Aussie) recounted her tales of living in India for 2 years (following a fiance who was on work assignment in the country) and her constant confrontation with the diversity and chaos that makes this country so wonderful & terrible all at the same time. When we were there, I cried almost every night in our hotel room talking to Andy about the difficulty of this land. I hated it. Yet it still drew me in. By the time we were on the airplane returning to the States, I turned to Andy and confessed: "I hope God never calls me back to this country, but if He did, I would go." Andy was dumbfounded. And here I am, 5 years later, and I feel the stir to return nudging me.In the opening pages of Holy Cow, the author shares a similar story. She had traveled around India 10 years prior with a girlfriend, and in the preface she describes her final moments at the airport as she left: "I break into a run, push onto the plane and sink into my seat. As we take off I give smog-swirled New Delhi the finger. 'Good-bye and good-riddance, India. I hate you and I'm never, never ever coming back.'" (p.3) And yet she did.
Some passages I found myself near tears with laughter as she paints the "colorful" picture of locals in the midst of everyday Indian life (including burping, drawn-out calls for chaaaaaaaaai, and the uniquely Indian head-wobble which says yes, no, and maybe all wrapped into one). Some passages I was near tears from the pain and inner conflict I felt at her portrait of the poor, the beggars, the sick that pepper every roadside in every city (including modern day lepers, burying the dead by placing them in the river, and passing never-ending slums in the heart of every city).
She explains it well when she writes, that its pointless to try and "figure out" India. "India is beyond statement, for anything you say, the opposite is also true. It's rich and poor, spiritual and material, cruel and kind, angry but peaceful, ugly and beautiful, and smart but stupid. It's all the extremes. India defies understanding... My confinement here is different-- I'm trapped by heat and by a never-ending series of juxtapositions... What's more, India's extremes are endlessly confronting." (p. 107). This is so true!
If you (a Westerner) have ever been to India, this book will make you feel normal for all the frustrations and love affairs you had in your mind while there. If you've never been to India-- but want to go-- this book will help you capture a glimpse of the wonderful, terrible confusion that lies ahead. No matter how hard I try, India will not leave my heart. And I would whole-heartedly tell anyone to travel there. Go. See it. Experience it. Love it. Hate it. And go back.
Oh ya, and read this book! It's a perfect travelogue to be your companion to a foreign land.
1 comment:
i read that book, too, after i lived in india and it was like my own story. funny how that happens.
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