Tata India. Mein ja rahi hun.

Mein ha rahi hun ( I am going.)

A few days ago Chitra, an Indian colleague, interpreted the lines in the back of my hands. She said that I like to travel but there’s always one place I would call home. And it is definitely not India.

In two weeks I will be concluding my love-hate relationship with India, my place of residence for 26 months, as I fly back to Manila mid-September. Yesterday, it being a holiday (Idu’l Fitr) I started sorting my stuff, decided what to bring and what to leave behind. As I neatly folded the clothes to pack I was melancholic. I always thought that I was very excited to go back home. I still am. Only, it is beginning to sink in me now that a different, thrilling, sometimes boring and at many times, frustrating phase in my life is about to end.

I always knew that my stay in India would be short and temporary. It might have been two years but the days, weeks and months flew by so quickly, even those days when all I did was wait for the night to come. There wasn’t a day that I looked forward to the end of my placement. I savored the good times while they lasted and braved myself into thinking that bad times would come to an end eventually.

Two years and two months ago I did a very similar thing of sorting stuff and deciding what would fit in my suitcase. That time, I think I was apprehensive rather than sad – new place, new people to work with, different culture, spicy food. If ever I was sad, it was because I would be separated from my son and my family for many months. But again, there’s internet and cellphones, and I knew I was coming back at some point and would be reunited with them. I would be home again.

This time I am more sad than apprehensive. Sad, because even if I didn’t really gain a family here, there are people I have come to love. There’s Anjalie and Bulbul, my landlord’s daughters who became a ‘fixture’ in our flat because they were there almost every night and regaled me with stories about their schools and urban view of Indian culture. There’s also the 1-year old Meethu whose one of the first words he learned to say was my name.

I don’t have very many friends in the Philippines. In fact even my Facebook friends number only 300+, and that includes the people I met here plus the unknown people I 'friended' only because we all played the same game app. I certainly have not acquired so many friends here, but many of the Indians I have met and interacted with made my stay bearable, if not very pleasant. There’s the Indian hospitality that is quite different from Filipino hospitality. They made me feel at home yet not entirely at home. No matter how many months I’ve lived here they still considered me as guest and ensured my comfort and safety. There is a considerable distance, a lot of it is due to language barrier but also because most Indians I met don’t socialize a lot especially after they got married, yet there is a connection which I would always cherish.

There was also the community of Filipino expatriates that became my refuge while in Chennai. Not only did I have the chance to taste Filipino dishes during gatherings but also allowed me to shift to my first and native language.

And there’s Michael, my fellow volunteer, travel companion, colleague at work, roommate, boyfriend. It’s not completely rosy but life was often easy when you know you have someone with whom you can split bills, or vent frustrations. It also helped to think aloud because I knew that somehow there is always someone who would hear me and relate with my experiences. And during worse times, there’s a shoulder I could cry on. I could also allow myself to be flippant around him, and only around him (or maybe Anjalie and Bulbul sometimes). Of course there’s the indispensable community of VSO volunteers. They reminded me I am not alone and that even if I didn’t regularly meet with them I always knew that one email and they would rally support when it got very tough.

It’s safe to surmise that volunteers do introspection, recount the experiences towards the end of service, assess the placement, ruminate what difference we made and what lessons were learnt. I am not there yet. I am simply pondering from where the melancholy emanated. I realize it is from the fact that it is home to the people who made me feel I belonged in the last 26 months, and that leaving means a very good chance that I will never ever see them again. I will not see Anajlie become a doctor, or Bulbul become an artist and entrepreneur, I will not hear Meethu learn to speak English. Soon many of the people I’ve met here will just be part of my memory, precious memory. With hard-to-pronounce names I may even forget many of them as soon as the plane reached the Manila tarmac.

Chitra may be right, there’s only one home for me , it is where my heart is and I am heading back there very soon. India may have never been home to me but a good part of my life had been lived here and I am thankful for the generally wonderful experience.

my second home in india

i should have done this a long time ago but i never had the chance to take snaps of my flat in delhi. blame it on my camera that gave up on me while i was still in chennai (i will also post photos of my flat in chennai, see the difference).


colors of kites and tibetan prayer flags come alive. make howling sounds during windy days.


this is the view from where i hang our clothes


if the flat looks like i am big obama fan blame it on my roommate mike. he's also responsible for all the posters of krishna, yogananda, jesus christ, etc.


other than my room, this is my favorite part of the house where i tried making indian dishes


the table and chairs are hand-me-down from a returned volunteer. went to her house, "dibs on the table and chairs".

i love the flat, love the landlord's family and love the free wi-fi and water supply. not all volunteers are as lucky.

"sharing skills, changing lives"

(another post i was not able to publish earlier, was written some time in January 2010. i have now joined another organization, but i am carrying with me fond memories of the former organization)

I came to India with passion and commitment seven months ago (July 2010). Two months in my placement as M&E Advisor and I could feel the passion slowly petering out and started to think that the only life changing here was mine. Why not? For two months all I did in my organization was to read documents and harass people with my incessant questioning to serve my selfish purpose of understanding the organization, their system and ways of working. That was not easy. Back in my country I didn’t like drawing attention to myself but here, with people always on the go I had to watch out for perfect timing to grab attention and be attended to. I constantly observed people and anyone who made a mistake of looking away from their computer monitor would be interrogated by me regarding their projects.

So okay, I did manage to do a few things other than read and talk which gave me an illusion that I was useful to my organization, that all the hard work of making people sat down with me and told me what they thought I could do for the organization paid off. I was happy to be asked to make a presentation about management information system (MIS), although the most I could actually do was the Powerpoint slides and didn’t get to present it myself. One or two people here came to learn of mind mapping technique which I used when I presented my proposed plan on how to accomplish my placement objectives.

When I had meetings with group of people it was not easy to keep them still and focused, even if I incarcerated them in conference room. Next thing I knew I was conducting meetings on exact spots where I bumped into them, within earshot of everybody. It actually served my purpose because those I peppered with question at most time needed to consult others as well to provide me answers.

My preliminary review took place exactly four months and a day after I joined my organization. Before that I had to fill up a review form, some kind of self-assessment. I was lackadaisical answering the questionnaire. I could not feel that I have done anything at all. One question I remember was “What personal lessons have you learnt?’. What could be the best answer? “I learned that there’s so much more to learn”, but I decided it was too self-serving and too obvious that I didn’t learn anything. But I have mentioned early on that my life is being changed by this volunteer work and certainly I, must have gained something from this experience. The best I could come up with was: I learned that people here can accept me by just being me. I don’t need to try to be an Indian, it’s more about being true to one’s self and being sincere; be humble to admit that I don’t know many things; that it’s okay to ask. I also learned to be assertive without being pushy.

I was just so glad that there was no question on what skills have I shared so far or I would have just packed my things (made sure the friendly pressure cooker is tucked in my suitcase) and voluntarily deported myself back to Manila.

Came the actual review day. The people I worked closely with in the past months were all seated around an oval glass table in the conference room (and yes, their number dwindled at every tick of the clock). My line manager began with, ”she’s on the right track...” and then enumerated the tasks I did based on the (no) progress report that I submitted to him. If the rest of those who were present had read my report I reckoned the review would be drab, unless there was a plan to drop a bomb later and say having me as volunteer was a futile exercise and a waste of resources.

I waited and waited but did not hear any explosive remark that would crush me into pieces out of debasement. Each of them shared about their encounters with me, and humbled as I already was, I was even more humbled by what they said during the review. While I counted my concrete output (which was minimal at the time) they took stock of my ways of working that influenced theirs. The rest of the review made me dizzy with modest euphoria and felt my passion drawing back to life.

“She asks questions that make us think and look at the organization in a holistic manner.” I didn’t know that my snooping actually had positive effect on them. One of my goals in my placement is for them to look beyond their projects and see the bigger picture. I felt that because they are so bent on accomplishing each of their tasks they become project-focused and tend to forget their higher purpose.

I learned to KISS (keep it short and simple) whenever I talked to the people in my organization because everyone seemed to be occupied that there is a shortage of attention span. When they mentioned that “She listens…” what immediately came to mind was that listening is a least-developed skill here but greatly appreciated when someone can actually stop and listen when they are saying something.

“She advises..” I kinda like the idea that I am constantly referred to as the advisor because it gives them the power to decide on matters and therefore have a sense of ownership of whatever process we are going through.

“She interacts with everyone..” I talked to everyone, including the watchman who only comes to work every afternoon and leaves in the morning (and whose name only few people are aware of). Everyday, I patted someone’s shoulder or asked how they felt in a particular day. In a hierarchical organization and a state where the caste system is still strongly practiced I suppose this is a big deal to them, albeit any manifestation of caste difference is absent in my organization.

Throughout the four months prior to my preliminary review I constantly complained to myself that my time and their resources are being wasted because I kept track of concrete outputs. It never occurred to me that when they said I made a ‘good start’ they were referring to what they felt about my being in the organization.

My role here is to develop an M&E system that will help determine how their various projects are contributing to the attainment of their goals, and veer away from donor-driven monitoring and evaluation. My best bet is that when I leave next year, they will have the system that they want and use it for another one or two years. But because of pressure from many donor agencies and other factors beyond the purview of my assignment they will likely revert to the old system. Yet I am pretty much assured that even after I am gone they will retain some values and attitudes that they have learned, not from our planned activities but from our daily encounters. As for me, I am learning to stretch my patience, appreciate more cultural differences and be comfortable with slow but steady progress. I also learned how to hand-wash clothes properly.

A day before I wrote this I had a meeting with 6 of my colleagues, some of them tried to talk at the same time but no one left before the two-hour meeting was officially adjourned. :-)

Breaking language barrier

written some time in December 2009 and came out in Volunteers' newsletter in India

Half-heartedly I set off to Kerala one November evening. Never mind if it’s one state many volunteers want to visit, and in the cultural capital, Thrisur, at that. I’ve just been to another state a week ago to visit a state level network (SLN) of people living with HIV (PLHIVs) and observed their programs. Travelling again so soon, on a night train, to observe activities of yet another SLN was the last thing I wanted to do. One, despite being in 3AC coach I spend most of the night just tossing and turning in my bunk. Two, the programs in every state and district are similar in nature. Three, the activities that I observed were in local languages. But the people in INP+ (the NGO where I’m placed as volunteer) guaranteed that I was not going to be a mere observer this time but would conduct orientation to district level network (DLN), as part of the leadership and management workshop. So off alone I went.

The train arrived in Thrisur railway station at 4:45 the following morning. Tired and half-asleep I got on a rickshaw, 5 minutes later I was looking at the façade of the shabby Elite Hotel. The equally tired and half-asleep front-desk officer roomed me in with someone named Rada I assumed was a participant. I knew immediately that there was a mistake; I was told beforehand I would share a room, but with the resource person from INP+. I decided not to protest and just settle it later. All I wanted was to lay my weary body in bed and take the longest nap possible before the session started at 9:30 that same morning.

My roomie was a Malayalee woman, about 50 years old, and spoke only Malayalam. She struck a conversation with me, cogitated who walked in and interrupted her sleep. By this time I was already cranky as I had repeatedly said “INP+” to assure her I came from a kindred organization. I motioned her to go to sleep, that I wanted to sleep too but she just went on. Of the many words she uttered I could only understand two. Did I speak Hindi? “No Hindi, only English”. I suspected that because of my physical features, I was mistaken again for a Northeast Indian and therefore should be able to speak little Hindi at least. Then she asked “Positive?” I answered in the negative which prompted her to talk more. I wondered if it would have assuaged her doubts if I said I was positive with HIV like her.

Finally, at almost 6 am, she spared me quiet time. I instantly drifted off to slumber only to be roused by knocks at the door at little past 7 am. Rada was up, had taken a shower and was putting on her sari, but still could not speak English. She beckoned me to get up and have breakfast.

Breakfast was served at the conference hall. I walked into a roomful of PLHIVs. Everyone looked at me with perplexed faces. I introduced myself as someone from INP+ but that didn’t take away the bafflement. I was famished but coyness preceded my desire to partake of the morning meal so I stepped outside and waited for Reshana, the coordinator. Finally she arrived and I was able to take my repast. Though I positioned myself in the farthest nook I could feel occasional glances towards my direction.

My task that day was to orient the DLNs on computerized management information system (CMIS). I was briefed again who were the participants. They are new board members. All of them have the virus. Some of them have low levels of education, others have reached 10^th standard plus one (finished high school and one year in college). Most of them do not speak English. Majority is computer illiterate. No computers in DLN offices. I knew some of these facts beforehand but Reshana qualified ‘new’ which meant they didn’t know anything about their roles and certainly not know what is MIS at all.

I prepared a technical presentation; with this kind of participants there was no way they could understand what I was to talk about, much less appreciate. I was slated to present in the morning but requested Reshana to reschedule me later in the day as I had to revise my presentation to fit their need. It took two cups of coffee.

The workshop started an hour late. I had the opportunity to be introduced as a volunteer in INP+, not Indian, not positive, to about 30 men and women with HIV, of various ages, the youngest present being 5 years old.

I realized I wasn’t wearing my wristwatch. Rada had the key to our room. I approached her during tea break, talked and motioned that I needed it. There must be another meaning in Kerala when you make a semi-fist with index finger and thumb extended a little and act like unlocking a door, for it took her a minute and interpretations from the other PLHIVs to understand what I was telling her. After the brief charade, I got the key and then my watch. I decided to just keep the key in my pocket.

I went back to Rada and told her the key was in my pocket if she needed it. Again, she could not understand. So I pointed to the key and asked what they call it in Malayalam – takol. I told her it would be in my pocket fingering the back pocket of my jeans, which she said is the keshayil. Glad to make progress, I told her, ‘The takol is in my keshayil.”

The other PLHIVs, by this time no longer puzzled who this stranger was, watched us with amusement and took notice of my earnestness to learn their language to be able to communicate. Joseph, a SLN officer who could speak English well, taught me to complete the sentence in Malayalam, but insisted that I also taught them Filipino. So I wrote it on the board and that broke the ice.

The key is in my pocket.

Takol enti keshayil annu. (Malayalam)

Ang susi ay nasa aking bulsa.

When I did my presentation, Reshana acted as my interpreter. I deliberately shortened and simplified my sentences so she would not be lost in her translation. I was lost in hers though. I sensed she told them more than I did, but it was alright. My apprehension was that they would not get the one joke I said to keep them awake. Luckily, they did after the translation. Call that delayed gratification.

After my presentation the PLHIVs were more at ease with me and I with them. They spent most of their breaks gathering around me teaching me Malayalam and me teaching them English. I could absorb only so much that I requested they taught me just ten words a day. The language lesson was ended with Rada cupping my face between her hands and said “Ninte mukham sundaram aanu.” It was later translated to English for me, “Your face is beautiful” Another delayed gratification. J

to add to the volunteers' visa saga

I am not the first volunteer in India to write about experience with FRRO. FRRO is Foreigners’ Registration Regional Office where as the name implies, foreigners register. Any alien who intends to stay in India for more than 180 days has to go to FRRO and be registered as a temporary resident. That is aside from police registration that has to be accomplished within 14 days upon arrival. And then if you need visa extension you also go to FRRO.

One of the challenges both VSO India and the volunteers face here is the visa extension, and VSOI actually encourages volunteers to write and talk about what it’s like getting our visas extended. One volunteer made 17 visits to FRRO before she was granted extension and no one has broken her record so far. In my case, I attempted 4 times before I was able to actually sit down and submit my documents. First, I went to the wrong offices. Second time, I went to the right office but was not allowed to get in because FRRO Chennai does not process extension for XV type of visa. Third attempt, I went at 2 pm only to be told they accept applications between 9 am and 12 noon, but at least they already gave me a list of the documents that I needed to submit. On my fourth trip to FRRO I came with complete documents and was granted entry.

First stop was the Person of Indian Origin (PIO and no, I am not a person of Indian origin) office. In the PIO office there were chairs arranged in rows, I was instructed to sit next to the last person in the last occupied row. Each time a foreigner gets his/her turn we move one seat closer to the PIO. Several seats later and I was standing in front of the PIO stating my case, documents scrutinized , I was then given an application form I had to fill in and submit together with letters expressing intention to register as foreigner and apply for visa extension, letters from VSO and my organization 1) certifying I am indeed a volunteer, 2)I am not receiving salary, 3)requesting that I be granted visa extension, 4) be registered as foreigner; a letter from my landlord as proof of residence, lease contract entered into between my landlord and my organization, photocopies of my 1)passport 2) page that shows my arrival and 2 passport photos (with blue background, like this shade of blue. All documents have to be submitted in duplicate. Next stop was the waiting room where like in the PIO office there is a seating arrangement. In the waiting room are divans. The last person to come in had to occupy the seat farthest from the door. Each time a foreigner was called in for her or his turn we moved one seat closer to the door. I brought a book with me but I couldn’t even finish 2 pages before I needed to get up and sit down again. Less than 15 minutes and I was already in the office of the immigration officer, third stop.

The immigration officer happened to have the same name as one of our past presidents, but was quick to deny that he is a dictator like his namesake. But I didn’t know that till late, that his name is Mr. Marcos and he’s not a dictator.

A week before that I just finished “Being Indian” by Pavan K. Varma where I read that Hindus (he referred to Indians in general as Hindus in his book) have penchant for brandishing their power. When Mr. Marcos interviewed me, I embellished all my sentences with “Sir” and “Yes, sir” and complimented the state of Tamil Nadu for the good work they are doing about HIV. That won me a potential one year visa extension.

On half a sheet of bond paper he scribbled something and handed it to me. It was my Intimation B form. That one-half sheet of bond paper that doesn’t even have the seal of India is the second most important document in my possession, next to my passport, while my papers are in the Ministry of Home Affairs office in New Delhi. The intimation B is my proof that even if my passport shows an expired visa, I am still a legal alien in India. I thanked Mr. Marcos profusely because it meant I did not have to go back to FRRO after 6 months and try to get another extension, regardless if I have been impressed by their efficiency which I heard is absent in FRROs in other states.

Last stop was an office with 4 glass windows separating the employees from applicants. This time, I could choose any seat I wanted because we were handed a waiting number. When my number was called, I went to window 4, handed all my documents and was told to return after a week. A week later I was back, handed the Intimation B to the woman at window 4, she looked at it handed it back to me and told me to wait for their letter they would send by post. That’s it. No fuss, no payments made. Just sit down, relax and wait, possibly three months. I’m a legal alien and can travel anywhere in India.

Getting an exit permit

In many cases, where a visa extension is under consideration chances are the foreigner won’t get it till the time that the consideration has expired and needs further extension. In such instance, one has to apply again 2 1/2 months before the expiration of Intimation B. A foreigner is required to get an exit permit if he or she wants to leave the country but has a pending application for visa extension. (Also to delist from police registry). Without the permit s/he can’t leave the country.

So now it’s my time to temporarily leave the country on a compassionate ground. My dad will undergo coronary bypass surgery and I want to be there for him. Top priority is to get an exit permit and apply for return visa. I forgot to mention earlier that I learned one lesson while processing my visa extension. That India has a reliable website http://www.immigrationindia.nic.in that provides tremendous information including what documents are required for visa extension. Unfortunately, it doesn’t say anywhere in the site what documents are needed to get exit permit. I found the FRRO Chennai office and called them to inquire. I didn’t get the information I needed and was instead told to go to FRRO and there it would be explained to me.

Let me digress for a moment. You see, Chennai is a huge city with sharks moonlighting as auto-rickshaw drivers. Round trip to and from FRRO is staggering Rs.300 for a mere 10 kilometers, that’s because i know the way and I have learned to negotiate well. At the gates of FRRO are more sharks, er auto drivers, on the lookout for foreigners leaving the premises. Regardless if I projected a mien of nonchalance they would approach me and offer their autos. Hope springs eternal in me so I tell them where I want to go and they immediately say, “come, 300”. I express incredulity if not defiance, “okay, 250”. If I try I could make it go down to 150, but in my one year in Chennai I’ve learned that getting them to agree to my price comes with hitches. They can do either one or all of the following, 1) stop at a petrol station to gas up, 2) drive recklessly and steal glances thru the side mirror to check how fast you lose the color in your face, 3) tsk-tsk and complain about the traffic, 4)pretend that they don’t know the way and ask around for direction, and 5) 50 meters to your destination they whine about the long distance.

As I was saying, that trip to FRRO just to get list of required documents is already taxing, financially and emotionally. I went anyway. A man at the PIO office pored over my documents and asked for my registration paper which I didn’t have because my original visa was only for 180 days. Therefore, I am not a registered alien. I needed to apply for exit permit and return visa, so he said if I came back the next day with confirmed ticket I would be issued both. The next day, I had my confirmed round trip ticket, but there’s a new person in charge and she asked for 3 more documents. She said I am not eligible for return visa because I am not registered and my papers are in New Delhi. As I intend to return after a month I have to get fresh visa in the Philippines.

I returned yet another day (today) with docs, she checked docs, signed and instructed me to go to counter 5. There is no counter 5!!! But there was a man standing right behind me where I was made to wait, he is the Counter 5. Examined my docs, affixed his signature, told me to go back to PIO office. Another look at my papers then was told to pay Rs5580 ($120)by demand draft.

This took much longer than all the previous procedures combined, half an hour at Axis Bank, 2 motorists provided entertainment, a 40 something guy (Man1) was parking his car but was taking a bit long, an old man(Man2) on another car behind his was impatient and yelled at him. Man1 got out of his car and yelled back, exchange of tirades in Tamil. Another man (Man3) joined in the ruckus, Man1 finally parked his car, Man2 directed his rage to Man 3.

From Axis Bank, went back to PIO office, woman issued a receipt, proceeded to Counter 1, papers examined and was handed another half-sheet of bond paper. “Read,” said the woman in Counter 1. It was Intimation A, saying I applied for exit permit and should return the following day between 2 and 3 pm. So tomorrow I go back to FRRO with high hopes that I will be issued exit permit.