When I married an Indian he spoke about one day moving to India, but that seemed a long way off at the time. About 13 years ago we did move here–bringing far too much stuff with us–and I’m making the best of it. Before moving here, I’d been to India only once in my life, when our children were small. It seemed very exotic then and some things are still foreign to me. Just when you start thinking of it as home, something happens that makes you realize that it’s actually a different way of thinking than in the West in many ways.
I’ve starting writing recently at the urging of my daughter who acts and writes. I’m working on a book about my childhood so that at least my children will understand me and my family better and, if I can get it published one day all the better. I’ve also considered writing a book about my experiences in India. I don’t need to depend on writing for a living so I’m just enjoying the process. I’ve written some poems about India I hope someone out there will enjoy even if it’s just family and friends. I’m including one of these in this first blog.
A RIDE IN A MOTOR RICKSHAW
The rickshaws are so plentiful
And you really need a ride,
To try and drive these city streets
Can be like suicide.
You need to get from place to place,
To get from here to there,
You need to spend those rupees
If you want to pay the fare.
You give the rickshaw driver
Directions where to go.
You climb right in and he takes off.
The way he seems to know.
And then he speeds right by the street
Where he should have made a turn.
You have to shout and point the way.
You start to feel concern.
Car drivers honk their noisy horns,
And force their way ahead.
Two-wheelers dive now in, now out.
There is no fear or dread.
Sometimes the driver hits a bump,
And you bounce up, then land.
He takes no notice of your plight,
As he didn’t have it planned.
For richshaws seatbelts don’t exist,
And headrests, there are none,
So you just have to take the risks,
When all is said and done.
Then finally your trip’s complete.
You’ve arrived with time to spare.
You pay the driver rupees owed,
Then he looks for his next fare.
I thoroughly enjoy the wit of your poems – they make me laugh and smile. I hope you’ll push through with your plans to write a book on your life in India, and a book of poems as well. I am reading your blog when I have the time, enjoying it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Rosanna for your gracious comments. I’m glad you enjoyed the blog with the poems. I’ve written some happy poems and some sad ones. India is a mixture of sadness and festivals. The festivals probably help people to forget the sadness. Of course it’s probably that way the world over. Many of the festivals here are religious and there are many variations of worship. Indian people are very devout. I’m Roman Catholic and my husband was raised a Hindu. I’ve definitely come closer to God since being here. I enjoy your blog also. P.S. Joshi
LikeLiked by 1 person
I wanted to see how you started your blog (can’t find your ABOUT page) – thus my comment on a much older post. I can’t imagine being so far away from the USA (in culture as well as distance) – so I am fascinated by your thoughts and poems. Loved this one particularly – also the one about your dreams of a land beyond war and strife.
I live within walking distance of several colleges so there are quite a few Indian grad students who have lived in my apartment building while they studied. Lovely people, all. I was surprised to learn from them that English is an “official” language in India and that much of their prior education was conducted in English. No wonder so many tech-support lines are answered by a person with an Indian accent!
xx,
mgh
(Madelyn Griffith-Haynie – ADDandSoMuchMORE dot com)
ADD/EFD Coach Training Field founder; ADD Coaching co-founder
“It takes a village to educate a world!”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Madelyn. The British were in India for many years starting with the British East India Company to do business here. The years of British rule were called the Raj. They left their language behind. Many of the Indian middle and upper class send their children to English medium schools. My husband spoke excellent English. It gives them a chance to get better jobs and often work and/or go to school abroad. I’m glad you enjoyed my older posts. 🙂 — Suzanne
LikeLiked by 1 person
Not done yet It will take some time to work my way forward.
xx,
mgh
LikeLiked by 1 person