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EXORCISING
INDIAPHOBIA
Overcoming
Fear of the Subcontinent
"Shocking
pink is the navy blue of India.'' Diana Vreeland
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A
round, peacock feather fan is pushed in my face; shimmering
in the sunlight, its multiple, iridescent, blue-green eyes
gaze into mine. "Nay, nay!" I say to the hawker as I sweep
past him and wend my way through the tuk-tuks, cows, cars,
and bikes to meet my photo group in Old Delhi. Ten paces
further along a barefoot, beggar boy pulls theatrical faces
and plays my arm with sticky fingers for financial consideration.
Reconvening by the Red Fort after our first foray into Shahjahanabad
on day one of my 1995 photo tour to northern India, the
jet lagged, first time photographers to the subcontinent
are initiated by assorted touts and beggars. A pushy vendor
attempts to apply a "tikka" or third eye to all the women.
Another chap hard sells a ludicrous, bogus, black beard
to the men. "Be a Sikh", he suggests. A snake charmer tests
at close range everyone's tolerance for lengthy, lethargic
reptiles. A raggle-taggle, gypsy mum wielding a bare-assed
baby palms the group. As we board the bus to return to the
hotel, a pretzel legged, street person hand propels his
way to the door importuning for alms. |
All
this visual and social stimulation occurs on the first afternoon
of a twenty-day tour through Rajasthan, including the Pushkar
Fair. Safely back on the bus, I take everyone's emotional temperature;
no one is unhinged so far. Those who went with my husband Landt
and the guide through the Red Fort reported taking pleasing
warm up shots of embodied saris sweeping through the rosy sandstone
structure. Those who followed me, wheedling our way behind the
scenes at the circus across the street, told amazing tales of
caparisoned elephants and cooperative mahouts posing for us.
In a matter of mere hours, the phantasmagoria of the Indian
experience had taken root in the group's collective, creative
consciousness - far outweighing the initial wave of unsettling
sights of beggary, and the harbinger of unrelenting commercial
hassles to be endured throughout the trip.
Anyone suffering from incipient Indiaphobia left their excess,
emotional baggage in New Delhi as we set off the next morning
for Agra, Udaipur Jodphur, Bikaner, Mandawa, Benares, Jaipur
and the ultra-exotic Pushkar Fair. On balance, despite daily
testing of social patience and challenges to other sensibilities
- including individual vicissitudes in tour participants' stamina
on a day-to-day basis - the scale remained tipped toward the
positive for the duration of the trip. The group had fast bonded
through mutual experience - by surviving physically and emotionally,
as well as thriving photographically.
Stateside Indiaphobia engenders various arguments for not committing
oneself to the greatest photo-opportunity on earth. "I couldn't
possibly deal with India! The crowds - all those people touching
me! The poverty, the smells, the filth! What they do to the
children! The death defying drivers! Those dark, impenetrable
eyes! I don't trust those people! What if I get really sick?"
And my all time favorite: I couldn't travel in India; I like
clean sheets!
Like so many mysterious djinns emerging uncontrollably from
the solar plexus of the subcontinent, all of these issues and
concerns are palpably real aspects of the Indian experience.
Nevertheless, unchallenged Indiaphobia frustrates me no-end.
After five trips to Rajasthan and knowing how otherworldly,
creatively expansive and personally transporting the Indian
journey can be, I can't imagine withholding oneself from this
land of photo-opportunity and spiritual transcendence. In an
effort to help people exorcise their Indiaphobia, I have tried
to excavate a deeper strata of concern. Over the years I've
queried Indiaphiles and Indiaphobes alike on the subject, getting
the same, aforesaid stock responses. However, a friend recently
back from studying with a yoga master in Mysore suggested that
the underlying issue is loss of control. "India is not for control
freaks", he said. I agree - it's the subconscious fear of losing
emotional, physical or logistical control over one's personal
destiny in the land where pigs fly, and beings levitate before
your very eyes. Those often voiced, Indiaphobic comments are
simply covers for control concerns.
The control revelation caused me to revisit one of my favorite
quotes on the subject of creativity from Bill Moyers' TV series,
The Olympics of the Mind. Moyers states, "Creative intelligence
possesses what John Keats called 'negative capability'. It is
being comfortable with uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without
irritable reaching after fact or reason. It questions what seems
on the surface unquestionable, it tolerates perplexities and
rushes to no judgment".
It is the very suspension of personal and cultural dogma that
is required to become swept away by Indian phantasmagoria -
a suspension of intellectual control. I believe it is possible
to pull this off without sacrificing our own individual belief
systems. We simply send our conventional, western wisdom on
holiday - give it a rest for the duration of the trip. There's
no point in clutching up or succumbing to emotional blackmail
over a culture we cannot control. Especially at the expense
of blinding ourselves to the mystery, miracle and majesty of
arguably the most complex, colorful, dense, decorative, multi-layered,
mercurial, and spellbinding culture on earth.
In an article written for the New York Times, "India's Gift:
The Discovery of Each Day", A.M. Rosenthal reveals, "I did not
go to India to search my soul, but Just to be a foreign correspondent.
Somehow from the beginning, I understood in India, as never
before, that virtue lies in rushing toward each day with its
joys and adventures - and even its pain - and that the only
real sin is demeaning God's gift of each day by turning away".
The participants on my photo tour met the Indian day wide-eyed
and head on. They accepted the fact that twenty days in India
was going to be the original "go with the Ganges" adventure
experience. In an evening get together, we discussed the difference
between pragmatic, temporary tolerance of the dark side of the
Indian condition and the offhand condoning of it. Again, the
sub continental karma was out of our individual control.
Only five days deep into the trip, some members of the group
suffered creative karma. A woman said to me, "I've been in tears
twice so far over this incredible spectacle. What's next"? Another
person reported waking in the middle of the night, her head
"dancing with design". No chemicals necessary. A man reveled,
"You ask five Indians if you can take their picture and you
get ten people posing for you. This is the greatest people place
I've shot in".
Another guy grouses, "There's nothing to take pictures of here;
I've only shot six rolls today". Someone else blames me for
not telling him to bring enough film; held come with eighty
rolls. At the Pushkar Fair swirling with women swathed in rainbow
saris and men topped with sorbet turbans, a shooter exclaims,
"Wowzer. I'm paralyzed! I simply don't know where to point my
camera".
In thank you letters for the trip I read from a husband and
wife, "India was truly a life altering experience for both of
us.'' A world traveler writes, "I'm sitting surrounded by dazzling
slides, wrapped in the colors and glowing in the memories of
a stupendous trip! I'm truly grateful to you and Land for seeing
me through my most exciting and growth producing journey. The
increase in photographic skills is but a small fraction of my
learning".
At our farewell dinner back in New Delhi, the group agrees that
India is like a pool with no shallow end. You can't test the
water with the proverbial India phobic toe. You've got to take
the full body and soul depth plunge into the liquid land of
djinns.How
seldom we allow ourselves the luxery of time; taking time is
a gift we grant ourselves. Only time teaches us that a little
stillness goes a long way creatively -- enabling the invisible,
interior world to manifest gracefully through our destination
photography.
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