The US vs INDIA, when it comes to FREEDOM

THE US VS INDIA

US:

 “Welcome home, Sir,” says the immigration officer in the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, in a solemn and severe tone of voice, after leafing through my passport.

When I rent a car my driver’s license is inspected, and I am told to sign seven different agreements. A deposit is secured through my credit card, and I am made to pay for insurance before I am handed the key. “Buckle up,” I tell my wife and son on the way. “This isn’t India—they’ll fine us and give us trouble if I’m pulled over and you’re not wearing seat belts.”

Renting a house, I have to fill a seven-page form, furnish recommendations from previous landlords, open accounts with the municipality, and buy renter’s insurance. Oh. And leave a deposit for two months’ rent because I had been living in India for the past years.

India:

 I land in the Chennai International Airport. A taxi is waiting for me and my family. Seat belts are optional. We swerve around cows. The driver honks as if he is making music.

I rent a Honda Unicorn in a small village outside Pondicherry. The bike rental place owner knows me—he wobbles his head and gives a big smile. Although I have an Indian driver’s license, he doesn’t ask for it. He doesn’t swipe my credit card to lock a deposit. I don’t even ask the price. I know that when I come and pay him, things will be okay. There is trust. My son sits between my wife and me.

The process of renting a house is simple. It is also based on trust. I agree on a price with the landlord, and that is pretty much it. I pay as I go along.

US: 

The aisles in Safeway are ample and well-stocked. There is everything I could imagine—from organic fizzy drinks to dog treats. “Excuse me,” says a shopper passing me by, even though our carts do not touch. The supermarket is open 24/7.

I drive out in my car. The roads are wide and well-maintained. Vehicles signal, stay in their lanes, and, generally speaking, behave themselves. At night everyone has their headlights on, but not the brights. Honking is rarely heard.

India: 

The fish woman comes in the morning and shows me the day’s catch. Squid, prawns, fish—all resting on a bed of ice looking fresh. I haggle with her, pay, and then she cleans the prawns for me.

I get on my motorbike and drive on the ECR. A truck blasts by me. A bullock-drawn cart is carrying bags of cement. Families with four, five, six members somehow fit on motorbikes. Cars honk incessantly. Lanes are optional. At night, everyone has their brights on.

I stop by a farmer with a wrinkled face selling mangoes from his back yard. Another woman by the side of the road is selling spinach and eggs. I pull over for a tender coconut—they help with the heat. Sometimes I go to the supermarket, but it’s cramped and things are not always in stock. Mostly, I’d rather just drive along the road and be surprised by what I find that day.

US: 

I am slow to make friends. Americans are kind, but they keep to themselves. I don’t know my neighbors on either side, although sometimes the one across the street waves to me. They respect my privacy.

People don’t ask many questions. They are rational and thoughtful.

India:

 “What is your good name?” “Are you married?” “Do you have children?” Everyone wants to talk to me—especially after they learn I speak Tamil. Everyone smiles and stands very close to me. People crowd around me. Sometimes I feel like my personal space is invaded, and sometimes I love the attention, the interaction, the notion that everyone is a friend.

People are emotional. Men cry in movies. Women weep when they are moved.

US: 

Although there is not much dust in the house, and there is a dishwasher and dryer and a massive fridge, it is hard work keeping the house clean, and we can only afford a cleaner a couple times a month. At least there are no power cuts.

The air outside is clean and pleasant to breathe. The streets are waste-free. Restaurants appear hygienic. I can drink water from the tap.

National parks are kept amazingly well. They are expensive to enter, but the trees and the rivers are preserved pristinely.

India: 

Our maid comes every day and keeps the house nice and clean. Although I pay her slightly more than average, her wage is still very little. The power comes and goes, and even the water supply is not reliable.

There’s, unfortunately, some pollution in the air. Cars spew out smog. Waste is piled along the streets. There are only two or three restaurants whose kitchens I trust. I would never consider drinking water from the tap.

Even a good distance into the wild there is waste to be seen. Men defecate on the beach in the morning.

US: 

The order, the dependability of everything, makes life easier, more convenient. I appreciate that. It gives me peace of mind. I know that the things I need will be there, and I know that I can depend on the basics of life.

But I miss something. I miss a kind of electric vibration in the air, something crackling and hopeful and mysterious. I miss seeing sadhus bedecked in saffron with long beards. I miss seeing cows and goats. I miss something unpredictable. Still, I am grateful that the infrastructure, facilities, and basic amenities allow me to live well. There are countless and boundless opportunities.

India: 

The undependability is maddening. When the sun is blazing, the power goes out, and I cannot turn on the air-conditioning. Just when I want to take a shower, something happens to the water supply. In the monsoon fungus grows on my clothes and my food. People stare at me and harass me.

And yet there is a special flavor, a spiritual current that permeates life. Something unexpected happens almost every day. A festival with many candles lit along the street. Kindness I do not understand from strangers. There is a simplicity and straightforwardness in people that allows me to connect to them from the heart. I am not always comfortable, but I am usually curious, amazed.


P.S.- This comes from a person who has lived in the US, in both the East and West Coasts. He has traveled in India for a number of years, moving through various states both in the north and the south before settling in Tamil Nadu for several years.