After almost a week here, I have already marched through miles of unfamiliar territory. The buses alone are like nothing else. The amount of people that can fit on a single bus is incredible! No matter how packed in you already are, with every stop more and more people weasel their way into the tightest crevices, and make the bus even hotter and sweatier! Oftentimes, there will even be people hanging from the doorway as we drive off, and still the man who collects money finds his way through the crowd to collect our dues. At one point, he was leaning his arm against my hot neck yelling into my ear to get the attention of the lady next to me, but it was far too tight for me to move a single muscle. A few moments later, the lady behind me started touching my hair and moving it to the side of my neck (I think it was in her way), I guess you get pretty comfortable with the people around you in such tight quarters? With a large backpack, you are forced to move it to the front of the bus, out of sight. And the lady next to me handed off her small child to the stranger in the chair next to her, to make sure the baby didn't get too squished. But, to get to work each day, it is only 11rupees! (There are 50 rupees to a dollar) and we have yet to be late using this system. That is, except for on Thursday; we (along with countless other people) could not go to work because there was a transportation strike throughout Bangalore where all 5,800 buses and most of the rickshaws were not running! According to India Times, there were a couple buses set on fire in protest, but I did not witness any violence whatsoever. I just felt a refreshing silence from the ever constant honks and beeps that generally fill the air.
The buses in Bangalore are also gender segregated. The women enter through the front door, and stand in the front of the bus, and the men, in the back.Gender roles are really interesting in Southern India. Stereotypes, and segregation is prominent, but women are somewhat put on a pedestal. A man will almost always give up his seat for a women, and will generally wait and walk through the door after a woman, etc. At the restaurant down the street from PremaVidya where we eat lunch, the men generally stand at the tables in the front, while the women are given tables and chairs in the back of the restaurant (we always stand with the men in the front, and have not had any problem, but if a women were to stand in the back of the bus, she would get pushed to the front). The South is said to be a matriarchal society, whereas the North is patriarchal, and so I am sure the standards for women are much better here, but segregation and inequity is still very prominent. Women also spend most of their day at home, and there are far more men about the streets than women. The bus is primarily filled with men, as are the restaurants, and really everywhere else you might go. Nonetheless, I have had no problems and have not felt uncomfortable in the slightest. But, I am still aware of it and react accordingly.
What has really struck me, more than anything else, is the incredible desolation and poverty that resides immediately next door to mansions and great wealth. I have yet to wrap my mind around how this can occur, how someone can comfortably live in luxury when the view from their kitchen window is of homeless children and slums. I have yet to feel culture shock, but I find it uncomfortable to witness such hardship and insufficiency. There are many social enterprises that are working to alleviate this disparity, but it is difficult to be patient and accept that change takes time. It truly aches to see such beautiful people living in some of these conditions. My purpose here is educational, I am learning how to become an innovator, an entrepreneur who can address social qualms, such as poverty. But as I turn the corner and see a child pooping on the side walk, or as I am leaving work and wave to the sweet and innocent children who live in the abandon building and call out "Hi Auntie!" with excitement, my desire to do something to begin sort of action burns deeper.
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