I cannot compile into mere words, the complexity of my feelings.
I am so glad to be here but yet so distraught at the same time. Since I have been in India, my perspective has been fluctuating between two modes of operation; one in which I find everything beautiful and amazing, and a second in which I feel like a fish out of water. I would be inclined to believe, however, that my predominant disposition is that of gratitude. I need this experience. It is a package deal that comes with both good and bad components — what is worth bearing in mind is that both of these constituents will ultimately help to build a better me.
Up until now, I have had a romanticist's view of the developing world. I have spent years living in Asia within my mind but only now am I actually living here. Looking at the work of the 19th-century orientalist painters or throwing-open a copy of National Geographic is absolutely incomparable to the real thing. I now realise that whenever I have picked-up a travelogue to read, my mind has created an entirely artificial world. Is it that I am too imaginative or, more likely, is it that 'interpretation of life' to 'written language' to 'interpretation of written language' always leads to distortion?
I have made a similar remark before but I will reiterate for emphasis: I feel that I am calling my own bluff!
I have a tendency to frown-upon people who project themselves as being worldly ignorant. Little did I know until recently that I was, in fact, such a person myself! While still in England, I actually went so far as to assert that I would suffer a subaverage degree of culture shock from coming over to India. Clearly, when put to the test, that proved false!
Being here is sobering, invigorating, numbing, stimulating, and depressing. I cannot say for sure, but I believe it to be guilt mixed with pity that is overwhelming my otherwise jolly façade.
I feel so sick with rage by the reality of how people over here are exploited by the fat-cats of the Western World! Annoyance saturates my being with far greater intensity than ever before whenever I think back to the comments I have heard game producers make in the past regarding outsourcing. Reflective thoughts about quotes from years-upon-years ago are now cascading around my skull cavity in a wild attempt to break-free and avenge the injustices of our economically-unequal world.
I feel guilt mostly for the fact that I am sat here on my big, fat arse doing nothing to help solve these problems. Some people write a blog post or two — or perhaps even a book — and then feel an alleviation of their guilt. Dear reader, please realise that writing this does nothing to satisfy my guilt. I am fully aware of how I am currently doing absolutely nothing for the world. In fact, I would go so far as to say that I am taking without giving.
Games do not help the world. They simply fuel consumerism, which in turn, lines the pockets of the big-boys at the top of the capitalist triangle.
I will end by recommending a magnificent book that I have recently finished reading: Nine Lives: In Search of the Sacred in Modern India. I have read a fair amount of travel literature over the years and this one book in particular deserves ranking right up at the top, parallel to my other favourite, Beijing Coma. What makes Nine Lives such a wonderful book is how it manages to capture modern India in so many different lights, thus offering a broad spectrum of knowledge and empathy to the reader. My most enjoyed story in the book is one of an aging Jain monk who reflects back on her life and tells of the harsh discipline that she and her friend had to willingly endure in pursuing their faith.
Here's a small extract:
I am so glad to be here but yet so distraught at the same time. Since I have been in India, my perspective has been fluctuating between two modes of operation; one in which I find everything beautiful and amazing, and a second in which I feel like a fish out of water. I would be inclined to believe, however, that my predominant disposition is that of gratitude. I need this experience. It is a package deal that comes with both good and bad components — what is worth bearing in mind is that both of these constituents will ultimately help to build a better me.
Up until now, I have had a romanticist's view of the developing world. I have spent years living in Asia within my mind but only now am I actually living here. Looking at the work of the 19th-century orientalist painters or throwing-open a copy of National Geographic is absolutely incomparable to the real thing. I now realise that whenever I have picked-up a travelogue to read, my mind has created an entirely artificial world. Is it that I am too imaginative or, more likely, is it that 'interpretation of life' to 'written language' to 'interpretation of written language' always leads to distortion?
I have made a similar remark before but I will reiterate for emphasis: I feel that I am calling my own bluff!
I have a tendency to frown-upon people who project themselves as being worldly ignorant. Little did I know until recently that I was, in fact, such a person myself! While still in England, I actually went so far as to assert that I would suffer a subaverage degree of culture shock from coming over to India. Clearly, when put to the test, that proved false!
Being here is sobering, invigorating, numbing, stimulating, and depressing. I cannot say for sure, but I believe it to be guilt mixed with pity that is overwhelming my otherwise jolly façade.
I feel so sick with rage by the reality of how people over here are exploited by the fat-cats of the Western World! Annoyance saturates my being with far greater intensity than ever before whenever I think back to the comments I have heard game producers make in the past regarding outsourcing. Reflective thoughts about quotes from years-upon-years ago are now cascading around my skull cavity in a wild attempt to break-free and avenge the injustices of our economically-unequal world.
I feel guilt mostly for the fact that I am sat here on my big, fat arse doing nothing to help solve these problems. Some people write a blog post or two — or perhaps even a book — and then feel an alleviation of their guilt. Dear reader, please realise that writing this does nothing to satisfy my guilt. I am fully aware of how I am currently doing absolutely nothing for the world. In fact, I would go so far as to say that I am taking without giving.
Games do not help the world. They simply fuel consumerism, which in turn, lines the pockets of the big-boys at the top of the capitalist triangle.
I will end by recommending a magnificent book that I have recently finished reading: Nine Lives: In Search of the Sacred in Modern India. I have read a fair amount of travel literature over the years and this one book in particular deserves ranking right up at the top, parallel to my other favourite, Beijing Coma. What makes Nine Lives such a wonderful book is how it manages to capture modern India in so many different lights, thus offering a broad spectrum of knowledge and empathy to the reader. My most enjoyed story in the book is one of an aging Jain monk who reflects back on her life and tells of the harsh discipline that she and her friend had to willingly endure in pursuing their faith.Here's a small extract:
"Buddhist ascetics shave their heads; Jains pluck their hair out by the roots. Buddhist monks beg for food; Jains have to have their food given to them without asking. All they can do is to go out on gowkari — the word used to describe the grazing of a cow — and signal their hunger by curving their right arm over their shoulder. If no food comes before the onset of the night, they go to bed hungry."
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