Friday 8th November

Now that we are nearing the end of our stay in Madurai, I think it's about time I attempted to evaluate my feelings about our first two weeks.

Intermission

At first, naturally I was scared and lost as we struggled to make sense of this alien world. With the symbolic reality of the train journey taking me deeper into poverty and unknown territory, I very nearly got the first train back to the airport! When we met Bishop Pothi at Madurai station, the oppressive atmosphere caused by the thick humidity of the air made me want to wake up from the nightmare...

Back then the smells were detestable, the heat overpowering, the people mystifying and the prospect of actually learning to like it laughable. I remember very vividly the powerlessness in Madras as two porters found our seat for us, packed our bags, dragged me outside and demanded fifty rupees. In much the same vein, a porter in Madurai grabbed my case even before I'd alighted.

Being unexpectedly assaulted, and with no intention of releasing my grip on the case, I stumbled the two feet off the train and landed on his bare feet with some considerable force! He cursed me and I think it must have been for his and the other locals' benefit because I had no idea what he was saying. He didn't try to take my bags again.

It was exactly this sort of forceful behaviour as people imposed themselves on us time and time again that I found most horrifying. In England they wait until you ask them for help. Here, they've charged you before you realise that they've done anything. Just the other day C. was approached by a coconut woman who cracked open a 'nut, scooped out the juice, stuck in a straw and charged him five rupees before he knew what she was selling!

It was a source of much distress during the first week with tailors accosting you and auto drivers,¹ taxi drivers, rickshaw drivers after your money. (You don't understand, we're English! Our country is so small we walk everywhere. If we don't, our legs stop working! No, really...) With beggars, children, pushers (hasheesh, drrugs!) at every turn and everyone staring at you, there appears to be little option but to react with hate, fear and disgust. And that is what I did.

Knowing that Nic was here, and had been for two weeks was our lifeline and we held on to it with both hands. Our priority became to find her so that she could tell us how bad it really was. Through observing her when she took us into town, I learned a great deal. In our first ventures I'd kept my eyes open, trying to take in too much information and becoming confused and lost as a result.

With Nic, we were going to the tailor's and that's where we went. It seemed to be a case of putting the proverbial blinkers on.. this worked for a while as I learned to cope with the barrage of attention and I've gradually become used to it, behaving - I hope – as most of the locals do while we walk the same streets. I still feel overdressed, even in my Indian-style clothes, because the colours are so outrageous. The men here don't usually dress up, but when they do, they wear white. Their concession to colour is to wear awful brown Hawaiian-type shirts and tablecloth dhotis.² I think I'll have to stay different.

So I think I've got over the initial culture shock and have begun to adapt to this new lifestyle. My taste for the food has helped no doubt and as for homesickness, I said goodbye on the train and have resolved to look ahead. C. has yet to do this and is dwelling at great length on the benefits of English cuisine. Yesterday we had some appalling fish for lunch, the leftovers for dinner and it looks like it's fish on the menu tonight. In Ramnad we had catfish which was fresh and very tasty, but here it's old and tough. We are three hours of Indian sun away from the sea after all. I wonder which one of us said they liked fish – it couldn't have been me, I can't stand the stuff...

(...end intermission...)

Right then, back to the old me and C. debate.

C. has tried to turn the tables, probably sick of me backing out and is now saying things like I'm rising above it and I won't be drawn in. This doesn't usually work, mainly because I'm not starting anything.

It seems like everything he says is a challenge to me. Maybe that's my argumentative disposition. Just now it was; 'Which is better – school or college?' it started out innocently enough but then C. (rather bitingly I thought) said, well that was School though, wasn't it? I can't remember the details, but this cut me sufficiently to reply. I don't agree with his condescension when it comes to his going to college.

So you're allowed to smoke. That's the only difference as far as I could ascertain. He said that he went to college to get away from the rules and the uniform.

I felt compelled to prove that my school was worthy and not at all oppressive. Not because I was showing off, but because it's another assumption on his part that my school is the same as his and therefore wrong in every way.

Loyalties, I don't know. Even though my (admittedly stereotyped) assumption that college was all lectures (in the 'bloke at front talks – students take notes' sense) was wrong, it just proved further the similarity between our educations. I didn't mind the rules that we had, and I had a great time.³ I was allowed to do what I wanted and be who I wanted.

It was only people who, like C., felt that the system was geared towards oppression who had problems. His retort to the suggestion that my lessons were just as informal as his lectures sound to have been, was nothing short of arrogance. Didn't you have discipline problems? ...and there weren't any in a college with no rules? It's exactly this sort of narrow-mindedness that I hate, especially within the state/public school debate. I can't blame the lad, he found something that worked for him and I commend that, but he has to try and get me to agree that he is right, my school was crap and that's why I got an A and three Bs. Confused? I know I am.

He said today that he asks himself 'who am I?' and doesn't know the answer. Since his problem with drugs (apparent),⁴ he has no self. With no self-confidence, no daring, no sense of a challenge and chronic depression where does he start? I mentioned my own complete turn-over of my life in the lower-sixth form and my rejection of depression and self-deprecation.

It's this that has got me where I am today and why I am able to take things as they come with a bare minimum of stress. (I didn't get where I am today by being depressed and self-deprecating...) The concept of laid-back is an impossible dream for C. (not that he'd ever take the challenge and try it). Similarly, there's no way he'll dare to think of himself as being worth more than the mess he is.

Positive Mental Attitude is what he needs and he ain't got it. He needs to look ahead, live a little, surprise himself and come out of that useless home-spun shell he's too scared to leave. Okay, so maybe that's a little harsh, but I think this spell away from home will do him good. We are so incredibly different that we're bound to rub each other up the wrong way and maybe that's why God put us together. If I (or India) can break C.'s wall down, maybe he can help me with my own insecurities.