Experiment 3: All The World's A Stage

This is a little late, and I've been slacking on posting my 'Project 2013' experiments. But here it is:

It's no secret that public speaking is one of America's greatest fears. But for me, performing is even scarier. I think it's because of the creative element -- you're putting something out there that means something to you on a different level than intellect, that makes you happy, that you've practiced and tried to perfect.

Anyhow, my friend and I decided we need to woman up and face our anxiety by performing at a local open mic. Since I recently started practicing tabla, and she is a fantastic singer, we met a few times and chose some songs that we thought could pair these two music elements. I can safely say her voice is much more in tune and notable than my nascent percussion skills.

But that's not really the point. The point was to get up there and try something new. And it worked. We had a great time, got plenty of audience validation, and were absolutely giddy for hours afterward. Addressing this fear was on my list for this year, and I'm excited to report it was conquered.

How Bazaar

On the terrace of the building 13 in Khan Market, the smog lifted and I was happy.

Our last night in Delhi was a jam session. Students from Manzil, an education based NGO, played Hindi songs with acoustic guitars, tambourines and a rhythmic dhol drum. My entire body responded to the frequency of the beautiful music and I sang and tapped my feet and danced with a presence that had left me since our night walk with Jamghat (what I described in my last post).

Over the past few weeks our own group of 21 (we picked up some people) had become a traveling orchestra in its own right. We visited a flute maker and now about 10 people practice the raspy bamboo flutes on our train rides and during meetings. There are also guitars, ukeleles and goosebump-worthy singing voices within the circle.

Last night wasn't about the Indians or Americans or the technique or our education -- it was about the absolute joy that came from a bunch of young people wanting to get lifted. And I got there fast.

Now I embark on the last leg of this journey. I have learned more in the past four weeks than I have in years of college and I'm hoping this week in the mountains will help me start to absorb and digest everything I've seen and done.

I know now that so much of what I thought was backwards and regressive about India is actually its saving grace. I feel like the girl who got off of the airplane on June 22 was some breed of hippie-colonist who thought if only those tribal kids would learn English and the government would transform slums into proper living areas, everything would be just fine.

But now I know that a farmer's adamant refusal to leave his land helps India's soil and fabric more than teaching calculus will. I know that those squatting toilets in the ground are the reason that people still have enough water to drink.

Last week I was wrist deep in cow dung and I have never felt more American. But it's just grass, and we are all just people.