Gazing, Grazing

I recently came across an interesting article on white expats in Jakarta and their experience of being, usually for the first time, in the racial minority. It was about the "Othering gaze," about being stared at, about no longer being white-invisible. The typical reaction is to do anything to escape the gaze: sunglasses, ipod, look down/up/blankly ahead/away, avoid gazing crowds. Avoid, distance, create a hermetic seal between self and gazing other.

Here, tourists gaze. Kodaikanal locals are used to the foreigners who have been here with the school since before there was a Kodaikanal town. It's gendered, though--or at least, my reaction is.
The gaze of Indian male tourists is unpleasant and I usually react as described above, occasionally giving a dirty look, occasionally responding with a real hello, depending on my mood. It is easy to imagine they are not only staring at whiteness, but are also objectifying a body; who knows what is truly behind the stare.
I've become a little mischievous with female tourists who stare. Usually, they come in school groups--or at least walk the lake in large, somewhat ordered packs. They REALLY stare, and it has a different quality, it is a gaze at the strange. I am strange. They stare hard, and nudge each other, and whisper, and point. So...I've started matching their stare. For amusement. I will meet their eyes with even deeper intensity; it usually takes a few seconds for the poor girl to realize I am looking right back. Caught. She then looks away, hides her face, smiles sheepishly, even shrieks and ducks, while her friends buzz. I try to smile while staring--as if to say: It's ok, have a look, I know I'm whiter than white, have short hair, am wearing jeans...but why not say hello, or vannakam, while staring?

Yesterday I was having a coffee and doing some marking (Hilltop bakery has finally accepted the fact that I will show up daily and sit for close to an hour); a group of seniors was talking loudly at the next table. Privileged Indian youth, heatedly debating whether to apply to colleges in the UK or the States. One young man was arguing in favour of the States--preferably the midwest--because whenever he walks the streets of Paris or London, he creates a spectacle. In the States, he disappears. Magnified/melted away. A young woman countered that America has no culture, so she will be applying to UK schools instead.

In exactly two weeks, I will be boarding a train in Chennai, bound for Agra...Delhi....Rajasthan...Rishikesh....Varanasi...then back south for two weeks of yoga at the Neyyar Dam ashram and Kerala beaches with Ficklius and our cousin. It goes ever faster.

Pics: someone got into our trash, check out his toupee; mum's package with bestest new thermal top and earrings finally arrived:

Feeling Regal

Indian Independence Day (Friday August 15th) at KIS: a sleep in, 3 hours of speeches, dance and music recitals, and an early start to the weekend. It was really all about the clothes. Our diverse students and staff came out for the morning in national dress…and those of us from rather dull Banana Republic (ha, ha) or GAP nations adopted Indian dress rather than wear jeans and tee’s.


Every woman in the world should dress like Indian women dress. (A gross generalization—not of every woman in the world, but of how Indian women dress—because this nation is really several dozen nations, each with its own styles of clothing. But I am talking, generally, about the sari and variations on the sari; and about the salwar kameez, and variations on the long tunic and pants.)

Both are cool and comfortable; varying fabric, style, and accessories make the sari and SK into appropriate wear for everything from manual labour, through school/office and weddings.More importantly, the sari and the salwar kameez can flatter any size or shape of body. (I have yet to see a woman, of any national origin or physique, wearing one, and think ‘oh, dear—not the best choice for her!'). Whatever the body underneath, these garments can be stunningly beautiful on their own: beaded or embroidered cottons and silks in every colour.

Every woman in the world should wear saris because one feels beautiful in them. My friends here concur—we plan to make Wednesdays sari day at school (otherwise all those gorgeous new purchases will sit in the closet). No more painting or clay on Wednesdays. One feels more than beautiful: graceful, regal, and respected; like you should be looked at, for all the right reasons.
That’s all I have to say on saris. I’ll show off now: pictured; Ficus with her favourite Korean student (I was way more comfortable than she was!)