Indoor India/Outdoor India

My second time in India, I got to see a side of Kolkata that I had only caught a vague glimpse of the first time. It was the lifestyle of the upper class of the city. It was a part of the city that I knew existed, but nothing in my daily life there would normally lead me to take part in it. However, through an old friend from my first time in Kolkata, I would have the opportunity to see how people live in what I would come to refer to as “Indoor India”.

I had first met Jasma through Katie when we were volunteering five years ago. Katie and Jasma volunteered at an orphanage and we were eventually invited over to her flat where she lived with her German husband Andi. Although she was about eight months pregnant with her first child, she was still an energetic host and prepared us a wonderful meal. Their flat was a basic but cozy space in a more middle class neighborhood. Our night there was actually far more comfortable and luxurious than what we were used to over on Sudder Street.

Five years later, I was back in touch with Jasma, and we arranged to meet up at a mall in south Kolkata. Arriving at the mall shook me a little. It was a huge, modern, brand new shopping center unlike anything else I had seen in the city. It was the closest thing to American-style consumerism and commercialism that I could have imagined. And somehow it made me feel really out of place. I was still dressed in my carefree traveler costume of baggy, colorful cotton pants, a t-shirt and sandals. Of course these were not normal clothes anywhere, but I felt more self-conscious about it here for some reason.

We met at a bookstore where Jasma was buying gifts for a friend’s child’s birthday party. She assumed I had taken a cab there, but when I told her I had taken the metro and an auto rickshaw, she seemed shocked. She said she had only taken the metro once and that it was awful. In all fairness, it is usually terribly crowded and uncomfortable. She also said she had never taken an auto rickshaw. This was especially shocking for me, as not only did I take them on an almost daily basis, I loved them.

It wasn’t until we got into her car and I realized she had a driver that I started to get an idea about how much Jasma’s life had really changed in the last five years. I also saw that Jasma herself had changed somewhat. First of all she, a formerly proud native of Delhi, had finally come to love Kolkata. She even criticized Delhi harshly, talking of the tacky displays of wealth by the city’s elite.

On the way home, we did some shopping at a huge grocery store. The variety and prices at the imported foods section boggled my mind. There were versions of American snack foods that I hadn’t even heard of before. There was a large variety of French cheeses and even some charcuterie. I remember hearing American volunteers complaining about how it was impossible to get peanut butter in India. Not that it mattered much to me, but they had obviously never been to this kind of grocery store.

On the way home, Jasma told me that they had moved to a new flat in a housing development farther outside of town. It was far from the bustling congestion that I was so used to. There were about eight fifteen story buildings that shot up out of the flat, sparsely populated areas around it. Some of the buildings were still under construction and I could see dark-skinned laborers milling around between the development and their nearby shanties.

We took an elevator up to the eighth floor to her flat. I had wondered where her kids were, but quickly realized that they were under the care of the maids. The flat was beautiful and had an incredible view of the city. Since I had last seen Jasma, Andi’s tech company had been doing very well and they had been moving on up at a quick rate. One of the maids made some lunch for me and we hung out and caught up on things. The meal of curry chicken, roti and rice was quite possibly the best meal I had in India. It neared my limit for spice tolerance and the pieces of chicken were plump and juicy like nothing I’d ever had in India.

Jasma invited me to go with them to the birthday party that evening and then stay the night. I didn’t want to intrude, but she insisted. There were some stipulations, however. Basically she needed to turn this beast into a prince in just a few hours. My hair was a little shaggy, so our first stop was to the barber that Andi usually goes to. It was weird to be at a nice salon, rather than a street side stall. Then we went back to the mall where I needed to pick up some new, presentable clothes. I needed to do this anyway since I would be going to Bangalore for a conference in a couple days and needed to have a little more formal attire than my normal rags.

Jasma took me to a department store that was a little fancy for me. As soon as we walked in Jasma went to find the bathroom and a young, well-dressed and friendly salesman latched himself onto me. He started to show me all of the latest styles from a variety of high-end brands. I listened and thought about some of them, discreetly looking at the price tags. They were about the price I would expect to pay for a decent shirt back in America, which is to say the equivalent of several days of travel in India. I was down to my last chunk of money before going home, and I just couldn’t afford to waste anything. It was embarrassing to do, but when Jasma came back I had to tell her that I really couldn’t afford what they were selling. She was cool with it and we went to a different store that more closely resembled K-Mart with its reasonably priced clothing, home appliances and groceries. It was still more expensive than if I had shopped in the street market near Sudder Street, but not terrible and I needed it.

Next stop was to the Croc store. Yep, there was an entire store devoted to Crocs. I had never worn them, but Jasma seemed to think I would love them. More importantly, they would be an improvement over the sandals made from tires that I was wearing. In the end though, I had to say no to the crocs too, since they were just too expensive. On the way home, we stopped by Andi’s office and picked him up from work.

We went back home and I showered, shaved and got dressed for the party. An important thing for me to explain, though, is that a child’s birthday party in affluent India is celebrated a little differently than in America. The biggest difference is that it is just as much, if not more, of a social event for the parents of all the kids. When Jasma had mentioned going to a birthday party for a child, I assumed it was a pretty casual thing. Little did I know that a big part of the party would be mingling with all of Jasma and Andi’s friends as if it was a cocktail party parallel to the simultaneous birthday party.

The party was held on the terrace on the roof of a five-story building. It was catered by the restaurant on the next floor down. While the kids were entertained by face painters and a magician, Jasma introduced me to all of her friends. They all seemed worldly and sophisticated. They spoke to each other in English with bits of Bengali mixed in for flavor. Many had studied or lived in America or Europe at some point in their lives. The magician had a difficult time holding the attention of the kids with his predictable, old school tricks. These kids were surely used to much more high tech forms of entertainment. Then there was the piñata. I was surprised that they had this, but then again, most of the means of celebration going on were being borrowed from American birthday traditions. They did not use a bat or a stick, though. Instead one of the parents just pulled the little trap door in the bottom and all the candy trickled out. The kids scrambled on the floor for all the raining loot. Another thing that stayed consistent with American birthday parties was that there was one kid left crying after failing to get any candy. It was Jasma’s daughter Tara, but the problem was quickly remedied with a secret stash of candy. We left soon after the dinner and cake. When we got back outside, the car and driver was nowhere to be found. He apparently thought we would take a little longer and went out on his own errands for whatever reason. I think it was safe to assume that he used the down time to conduct some other side business and just got caught this time.

My plan was to go back to Sudder Street the next day since I wanted to volunteer and had to get ready for my trip to Bangalore. Jasma, however, is very convincing and wanted me to spend the day with them. Since it was Saturday, they were going on a family outing to something of a resort outside of town a couple hours. It was a place called “Ibiza” that had a large pool, a nice restaurant and some other luxurious facilities. I didn’t have a bathing suit, but Jasma assured me that I could buy one there. I wasn’t too excited to spend money on something I didn’t need, but I was kind of excited about swimming. Kolkata could be unbearably hot and humid and a swim would be incredible. The shorts I had to by were a little spandexy number not unlike really small bike shorts. This was way out of my comfort zone, but I did what I had to do. The day was pleasant and I enjoyed splashing around with the kids, Adu and Tara. They couldn’t really swim yet, but they did enjoy being in the water. Suddenly about four dozen high school aged kids showed up on some sort of field trip. They basically took over the pool so we moved to the poolside café and ordered beers and appetizers. The kebabs were incredible and whatever else we ordered was top notch. I felt a world away from my previous day-to-day life of living on Sudder Street and volunteering. There was a little bit of guilt for missing the day of volunteering. I also felt so out of place in this high society experience. Just like back home, I am more comfortable in more humble settings and don’t do well when I have to present myself in a certain way in more upper class settings.

I was planning to go back to Sudder Street that night, but Jasma wanted me to stay another night. I still felt like I had to get back to volunteer and get ready for Bangalore, but she was very persistent. Andi had to work the next day, and she wanted to hang out with me and the kids.

So I decided to stay for another day. Most of our next day was spent at the mall. First, Jasma treated me to lunch at a nice Italian restaurant. She tried to insist that I get one of the seafood platters, but my frugal nature forced me to get one of the more modestly priced items, the cannelloni. I was also basing my choice on whichever dish would have the most cheese. After lunch, we went to see a movie at a theater in the mall. I had no idea that a Three Musketeers movie was out, but that is what we saw. Also, it was in 3D. It is funny how India such a place for new experiences that even seeing my first movie in 3D happened there. Between the day at the mall, the Italian lunch and going to the movie I was having a more typically American type of day than I ever could have imagined having in Kolkata. The funny part is that you can almost never find me at malls, theaters or Italian restaurants while actually in America. I guess there is a time and a place for everything. And while it seemed that so much of this modern Indian culture was simply trying to emulate America, there were a few aspects where the India could not be held back. The popcorn at the theater was a great example of this. It came in four different flavors that reflected the true Indian need for spice. The popcorn was an American concept, the flavor was all India.

The day at the mall finished with a little bit of time in the arcade where Tara and Adu seemed surprisingly less excited about some of the games than Jasma and I. I didn’t expect to find myself at an arcade, but it turned out to be a fun time.  Afterword, I finally had to leave the indoor India though, and return to my home on Sudder Street. I had to say goodbye to the air conditioning, the modern bathrooms, the quality food, the clean and comfortable bed. They were nice treats for a couple of days, and I couldn’t have thanked Jasma enough for the hospitality, but I ended up relieved to get back to Sudder Street. I think part of me was afraid of getting too attached to that lifestyle and losing the ability to happily get along in my cheap, and fairly filthy guesthouse, eating from street stalls and volunteering for the dying and destitute. It amazed me how I could go from a life where I never encountered air conditioning to one where I was constantly going from one air conditioned space to another, without ever feeling the cruel Kolkata climate. Thus why I came to refer to the Indias I was seeing as “indoor” and “outdoor”. The indoor and outdoor Indians lived parallel lives, very close to each other, but never crossing each other’s paths.

When I got back that evening, I realized that I had left my new clothes in Jasma’s car. I was leaving for Bangalore the next morning and now I needed to go and get new clothes again in a rush. I grabbed my friends Joe and Mel to help me find clothes at the nearby street market. For a pair of khakis, two shirts, a tie and a belt, I ended up spending less money than on the one pair of khakis I had bought at the mall.