You board a flight, cross the seas and you are an alien. This alien witnessed a change. I switched from a flight from India loaded with people like me to a 20-seater where I was the only non-American.
Along with this feeling, a lot of other things were different. The American dollar, the Louisiana intonations and the quarter pounders at McDonald’s – to cite a few.
A ten dollar bill meant that I could pay my graduate studies for an entire semester back in India. Here, I can only buy an apparently moderately-priced meal.
The Louisiana sing-song accent means that my English just doesn’t sound good. It’s dry, boring and confusing – “What did he just ask?”
Apart from these changes, there are some others that add humor to my daily life. The toilet paper is culturally a dramatic change, and I am still trying to find my way around it. The ‘cool’ greetings from passersby would have been unimaginable in my country filled with so many people.
While these and other changes flood my life with an Americanization of sorts, I am sitting in my carrel trying to understand the context. The different racial and ethinic groups present an interesting similarity to my country.
Back in India, we have castes, which spell similar complications. The subtleties are similar and the environment a tad grey. Having said that, my initial interaction with another race was with the ladies driving the Tigerland A bus.
The first impression of the lovely African-American lady who greeted me on the first day of boarding the bus would last long. Since I board the bus at the same time, her warm greeting always enthralls me.
While I guess there are people with different opinions, the diversity is something to be cherished. Much to my liking, the other lady driver who drives me back is also warm. Either the weather makes them like this, or it’s a genuine representation of the acceptance of liberal Americanism. These are things which I would slowly understand.
While I still rediscover the flavor of southern America – the country music, the Wal-Mart trips, the accent – there is a contrasting story to tell about my country. The university back in my country is different, and it’s expected to be.
The classrooms are pre-historic by American standards – there is no air conditioning, no projector, no revolving chairs and no such thing as lavish as a cubicle for doctoral students.
There is no Mike, no baseball, no football; but there is the Royal Bengal tiger, the undying cricket and the shared library space for everyone!
Even the cultural fabric is in striking contrast to what we find here. Two guys walking with hands on each other’s shoulders doesn’t get painted with gay colors. It’s quite normal.
The university is just as big as the one back home, but it’s not filled with grass. What is interesting is that a non-Indian is welcomed with people waiting to ask them about their country and to understand their culture. The greeting often lengthens into a discussion over multiple rounds of tea!
There is so much to write about the differences that one has to get inside my mind to experience it all. This letter is a modest way to try and represent an entire culture, which isn’t remotely possible.
It is only indicative of the diversity within the campus that presents us with opportunity to be more tolerant and understanding of the cultural differences. I have already started singing in English, but the “What did he just say?” remains.