Individualism and Fear

Greetings from Visthar!!! After too long, it's time for an update. The American students have arrived, and my time has been greatly absorbed into the programming for that program, including some excellent time spent in the Yeligiri Hills in Tamil Nadu and Koppal in northern Karanataka.

In other news, my summer compatriot-in-justice, Amy, left Visthar at the end of August, leaving me a room too large and short a dear friend.

While I have been reasonably bummed about this, a lot of other people are, too. A few of the Bandhavi girls were asking about her the other day, and I expected that they would talk about loneliness for a bit – as girls away from their village in a culture that centers on “home place,” they know a bit about loneliness. However, the first and only thing they commented on when I said that I was now staying alone was a look of shock on Sunita’s face – “Aunty – you – no, bayaa?” I was confused – bayaa is the Kannada word for fear. I asked her if she would feel bayaa, and she strongly agreed – “only one Aunty, not good.”

I thought about this interaction for a while, and came to the conclusion that it has to do with space, or the lack thereof. There’s very little personal space here in general, which leads to a lot of togetherness, even when it isn’t entirely warranted or necessary. People are constantly in contact (on the bus, on the land, in the house), so it would make sense for a girl who lives with her entire family in one room, a group of 70 girls split between four rooms, to associate fear with loneliness. There are aching stories told by immigrants from this kind of community culture moving to the US, and not being able to sleep because they could not hear anyone else breathing in their sleep.

This all got me feeling very smug about my cultural intuition, which is usually a good indicator that I have missed something important.

A week later, I was sitting in the office after everyone else had begun to leave, when Roja, Renuka and Devi came by to pick up some old newspaper to cover their schoolbooks. It wasn’t late, but nor was it early, probably 6:45pm, and certainly well into dusk. They sat and chatted for a bit about school, and I downloaded a Telelgu love song on Youtube for the enjoyment of all (if you ever want to see a mustache, you should check out Telegu love songs), and then they had to head back to Bandhavi. They wanted me to come with them, but I wasn’t wrapped up quite yet. I told them I would be a few minutes, and told them to go ahead, but paused with the subsequent question- “Go alone? But… aunty… aren’t you… bayaa?”

That bayaa again, and in a very different context. What fear, what loneliness is there in walking across less than an acre, on a lit path, on a campus with over a hundred people?

Then I realized that this fear is about being alone, yes, but it is rooted in insecurity; and this insecurity is rooted in poverty. I can feel safe, generally, because I know that I have a mobile phone if things get hairy, I have money to get myself out of a bad situation, and I have socio-cultural power that comes from being a wealthy American. I can replace a pair of pants that get ripped when I trip in a dark hole, and even if it gets really ugly, I can afford to buy antidote to save my life if bitten by a snake.

But imagine if you didn’t. Wouldn’t fear become an important emotion for you, too? I would want the protection and reassurance of others close by, if I didn’t have other safety nets, too.

So, this thought brought me to a question – is individualism, the need for space both physically and metaphorically, enabled by wealth?