Truthful Omission

Deep colors of orange with splashes of red, light yellow marigolds, the smell of smoke, and that time I saw locals battling a young cobra that had perched its slithering body atop a bicycle seat.

This is where my mind goes when I think of India. And after I siphon through all of the colors and burning smells I think of children with small dirty hands, groups of women washing and drying saris on the banks of the Ganges, and sadhus selling hash.

I don’t know where I’m going with this but I want to speak about the India I know, the one that will receive you with open arms and melt down the person you were before, be it through spiritual enlightenment or stomach twisting food poisoning.

When I speak about India I unfailingly get the same question, is it safe? And unfailingly, I receive it only from women, never from men.

These days when I get that question, I feel my eyebrows move to make room for my eyes to open wide and I respond to them with a truthful, definitely not.

I used to barter with my words when responding to this question. Attempting to reason with them I would say, well yeah, if you take the proper precautions and definitely don’t drink the water or go out in New Delhi after dusk you will stay safe.

The eyebrows of the female faces I gave this elaborate answer to moved in no way. They did not believe what I was saying, and truthfully, neither did I.

Now I answer them with truthful omission. I do not tell them about the time a blown electrical transformer rained sparks down onto my head, or when I was electrocuted in the shower, but I tell them about human connection.

There is nothing about India that is gentle. Just like that striking cobra its people must become viciously aware to survive because in developing countries, not just India, death and sometimes violence, live in every corner.

I think in this action of survival human connection is formed, willingness to help breeds there, and awareness that life can be short multiplies. In the developed world we are shielded from death and much of the horror that goes on in countries theat are not our own. We do not see children dying of diaraih and basic viruses but is happening.

In places like India where you see death happening you are forced to get familiar with it. The people I knew did not had off the bodies of their loved ones to coranors where they would receive ashes back in a neat box, but bathed and wrapped the bodies in clean silk themselves and then carried it on their back to cremation.

And when it comes to receiving the question of “is it safe” from only women, I want to tell them that no where in the world is safe for women. I don’t really know if your odds of being victimized increase when you go abroad because is anywhere really safe? Victimizations happens in your childhood bedroom and with that male friend you’ve had since college after one too many drinks.