January 20, 2005 - page 2



an hour to buy a set of bangles for me. Besides being very friendly people, Farouk and Rajni were especially excited that I was interested in dressing more like an Indian. Lots of local people complimented me for dressing in salwar-kameez, and not all of them were trying to solicit me. They were simply pleased that I had taken an interest in their culture.

Farouk and Rajni were adamant that I should have the proper accessories with my saree. The silk did not live up to its

potential without the right jewelry and shoes. If I was going to spend Rs. 3000 on a saree, I should look like it. It can be difficult to guess an American’s income from their style of dress. In India, it’s very easy.

The only things left undecorated in India are the slums. Fruit-sellers in open stalls spend time arranging their fruit in appealing patterns and bicycle rickshaw drivers paint what little surface they have. Even the cobbler in Connaught Circle in Delhi had neatly lined up shoes and tools on his mat on the sidewalk. This is why the corrugated tin and cardboard slum dwellings present such contrast. There is nothing to color, nothing to arrange.

What I have seen only just skims the gigantic array of new sights in India. As much as I feel I’ve learned from observing things, I could go back my whole life and still feel that my eyes were inadequate. I will never know what India looks like to people who have spent their lives there. When I see a man with the ends of his mustache turned up, it does not signify his caste to me. Economic class differences were visible, but the caste system remained invisible. I read about it in the newspaper, and I saw people with caste marks on their foreheads, but the effects of the system on people’s