nafisa in the south

Last transmission – Delhi Airport

9 more hours in the Subcontinent and I am outtie.  Things discovered: on average I drop mid-90s colloquialisms 2-3 times a day.  Also, spray deo is shockingly effective.  The only thing better than a regular spray deo is a BRUT spray deo.  I came to India with essential oil and baking soda and I return ready to go to the ends of the retail universe in search of BRUT spray-on.  Thus my transformation is complete.

Other things discovered, the smell of a jar of ghee is not actually as repulsive as previously imagined, shutarang amar pant ar fit kore na.  Therefore, my pants are rather tight these days.  Also, if anything, my Bangla improved this year.  Proud.

Good things of note.  No awful metaphysical congestion this time around.  Is that a good thing?  Because I also have no qualms about ordering yuppie salads or paying for the occasional copy of the New Yorker.  I have been converted into a particular lifestylist and I actively acknowledge my consumption habits because even in light of my relatively small paycheck, all of which I spent and did not save, I am in continual awe of the strength of the dollar.  Don’t you “No Shit” me.

10 months in India, 2 months in Bangladesh and now a 12 hour layover in the Delhi Airport.  I spent the last month in Dhaka remembering how useless it is to attempt practicing independence.  I probably cannot live there.  Though it was really good being in touch with Drishtipat and helping in the Child Domestic Workers campaign.  Our mural workshop was good and for the first time in a long time (since Rebel Voices three years ago) … by the way I just saw a mouse run across the airport lounge…  I was excited to experiment with young brains / work with youth.  To be truthful, family life and maybe the matrix of issues in being a woman in Dhaka (people kind of used me as a repository for their frustrations, trauma, had to sit through some sincerely emotional arguments about privilege to which all I can/should do is listen) is limiting and difficult.  Unless I live by myself, I cannot get any ‘significant’ work done.  I refuse to apply myself in an inhospitable living environment/personal life.  Why should I.  I would rather try again in Calcutta or the U.S.

Last thing of note:  I decided to go to graduate school.  In the next two years.  I don’t think school is a particularity innovative or exciting choice.  I still think more vibrant communities live outside, and that an outside/inside does exist too much.  I mean just listen to me.  I “decided” to go to graduate school.  Since I am so bloody privileged and have so much godamn access, I am going to bleed this as far as I possibly can.  I’m not completely mad though, so I also found a palatable option.  Development Practice, a 2 years Masters with generally 1 year on-campus through SIPA at Columbia or at Josef Korbel in Denver.  At the same time, if I get into a brand name school, I would take it because no one gives a shit if I had the time of my life discussing Marxian geography in Colorado.  Money, paper, validation and bullshit.

See, I am still the same.

Goodbye South Asia!  See you in a book.
Nafisa