There is an notable difference between challenge and adjustment.

Adjustments are things you do to make to make yourself comfortable. Challenges require effort, intelligence, and a conscious determination  to overcome.

My time in India has been filled with both.

Adjustments arise everywhere, at any time: the burdening heat, the vegetarian diet, or the language barrier; the inescapable trash, the zoo outside my home – pigs, cows, and dogs – even the occasional lizard or snake; the public defecation I see every morning, the role of women in society, or the sound of traffic; the tiny bugs that crawl up my thigh in the middle of the night, the daily power outages, or the smells: chai, rain, and urine; the stares, no alcohol, or the palpable fear people have toward me before I speak; the sickening poverty, the constant impulse to give rather than teach, or the lack of privacy; the intermittent lack of bathing water, the constant chaos of yelling children, or dealing with the ordinary ‘argumentative Indian’; running a business – being responsible for people’s livelihoods, or attempting to create a Western office environment in a third-world village; the Internet or printer not working – often both, or buying breakfast every morning without any words; taking care of two younger siblings, practicing a new religion, or the day starting at sunrise and ending at sunset. They’re all adjustments.

My “comfort zone” shifts along with every adjustment I make. My reality is such that, if I do not accept these adjustments as comfortable, I will live in constant disarray – perhaps even fear. When thrown into wildly different situations, humans adjust. It’s part of our nature, and it’s precisely what I am doing.

The word ‘normal’ is no longer restrained by the boundaries of my life in America. I have adjusted from what once seemed crazy, to what now are habitual, conventional aspects of daily life. As I adjust more and more every day, I have begun to adore and appreciate my new home. There are subtle nuances in every adjustment that make this whole thing worthwhile – they come with the realization that I don’t need my old comforts to enjoy life.

Challenges are completely different – they aren’t like the bugs that crawl up my thigh every night that I can squish and kill with my fingers. Challenges take time to overcome: patience and practice.

The biggest challenge for me, so far, has been adventure. This may sound odd, because I signed up for this trip and I love adventure. While certainly true, there is a distinction between enjoying adventure and constantly living in one.

There’s a contrast: waking up at home and looking forward to an afternoon adventure, or waking up every day completely immersed in it. I think this is a commonality among all Minerva Fellows.

Adventure, for me, is an inescapable modality; it isn’t something I can choose, but instead follows in my footsteps, pushing me keep me inching forward. And no, I am not referring to “adventure” in the sense of thrill, i.e. skydiving bungie jumping.

I am talking about the unknown. I am talking about living, breathing, and accepting a faceless outcome that remains anonymous until another emerges.

“Just go with the flow” – this is advice I often receive. While it has merit indeed, the application isn’t always transparent. I’m not talking about a 4 hour social gathering at a friend’s house. Sure, you can “go with the flow” and enjoy the party. But, thus far, time means nothing. I am living via the flow, but I don’t have any other option.

I’d like to boast that I’m mastering the art, that I’ve met new people, gotten lost, pushed the limits of danger, unstrapped my seatbelt and enjoyed the ride. I’ve done it, I have. But, I must be honest – I often find myself struggling to stay afloat in this river of endless exhilaration, spontaneity, and daunting excitement. There’s no simple adjustment; it is challenging.

My experience here is a nine month adventure, constructed by multiple unknowns per day. My adventures have undoubtedly been my most rewarding experiences: freeing and inspiring. With that said, they have been the most challenging: difficult to overcome, to accept as reality, and to adjust.

 

Last week I got a call from Vijendra: “Davis, you coming?” This is a typical question – no concept of where or when, but I say yes.

From the many questions I asked, this is what I could find out:

-We were going somewhere on a motorcycle

-We were leaving the following day, but I wasn’t sure when. Within one hour of the phone call, the departure time had changed from 6am, to 10am, to 4pm.

-Many other people were walking where we were going.

-This was for some type of religious event, but that really means nothing as everything here is a religious event.

I’ll give you context first and start backwards. I ended up driving to Diggi, which is a village about 80 kilometers away from Bagru. In general, Diggi pretty comparable to Bagru in terms of aesthetics and size, but it has a very famous Hindu temple dedicated to Lord Kalyan Ji, an incarnation of Lord Vishnu. This is why we were headed there.

The event was called Diggi Padyatra (sometimes called Diggi Yattra) – it is an annual pilgrimage of nearly 1 million people to Diggi every August. 90% of participants walk from Jaipur, or villages near, which totals about 50-60 miles over the course of 3 days.  Basically, if you walk to the from Jaipur to Diggi,  your prayers are supposed to be answered.

There is one paved road that leads to Diggi. Over the course of 5 days, the road is completely packed with people. 1 million people from Rajasthan made this trek, all of whom came and left on this one road; despite the unfathomable amount of people that ventured to Diggi, I didn’t see a single foreigner. Just one of many examples of how big of an outsider I am here in India.

Many people travel to Diggi by village. For example, two days before I left for Diggi on motorcycle, a group of 250 people from Bagru departed on foot. Vijendra’s younger brother, Raju, was one of those people – he walked the entire thing without shoes. Every village walks together behind a massive truck; this serves as their “sag wagon,” and carries food and water for everyone. If someone gets sick, injured, or fatigued, they can ride on the truck as well.

But that’s not it – on every truck, there is a DJ who blasts Bollywood dance music for all the walkers following behind. So people aren’t just walking behind their trucks, they are dancing, partying, and singing the entire way to Diggi. Nobody really carries anything with them – no bags or toothbrush, and nobody wears sneakers or shoes. All are equipped with $1 plastic sandals or simply make the journey barefoot.

Since the voyage takes multiple days, the villagers make pit-stops along the way to eat massive meals, refuel, and rest. Once everyone is done eating, they begin their “cultural programs” which entail exotic dance parties with ear-blasting music and excessive light shows. These “cultural programs” (dance parties) can be seen along every mile on the road to Diggi.

These dance parties are simply insane; they actually put many of the drug and alcohol-enduced co-ed parties I’ve seen in America to shame. And, to make it more baffling: everyone is 100% sober. Young, old, men, women – everyone dances together. Once the dance party is over, they pack up and continue walking (and dancing).

Upon reaching Diggi, they have a brief visit to the temple (it is very crowded), and take a bus back to their village. These busses can hold 100+ people, utilizing the roof for additional seating.

Now that I’ve explained the event, I’ll give you a play-by-play on what went down. Overall, my experience was incredible on multiple levels. Yet the most challenging part of the entire journey was not fully understanding the adventure I was actually taking part in. (see above post on adjustment vs. challenge).

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 Pre-Departure:

We left at about 4pm from Bagru on motorcycles. There was a crew of about 16 of us – almost all were printers for Bagru Textiles, so there were some familiar faces. The two hours leading up to our departure was stressful; as mentioned, I didn’t know where we were going, or for how long. Everyone looked at me like I had 6 heads when I walked to the “meeting point” with my backpack; nobody had brought more than an extra pair of shorts or single bedsheet.

 

Getting there:

The drive to Diggi was picturesque – beautiful, rural India, gleaming from the sun setting on the horizon.

At dusk, around 7pm, we reached a busy town and pulled up to a school. I was told we would “rest here for the night” and continue our journey in the morning. I mentally prepared to make this random Indian school my home for the next 12 hours.

Then, I started recognizing many faces at the school and realized everyone around me was from Bagru! We had actually met up with all the 250 walkers from Bagru – they were eating dinner here, resting, and having a cultural program/dance party. They were continuing on foot at 3am.

After eating dinner, I was told to get back on the motorcylce. There was a quick change of plans – we wouldn’t be sleeping at the school, but continuing onto Diggi throughout the night. I just nodded my head and got back on the bike.

An aside: we actually held up for an hour because someone stole my sandals. Turns out a young boy wore them into town to buy a snack – a prime example of the interchangeable property that exists India.

An hour later the road started getting very busy. There were walkers everywhere, music coming from all angles, and intense dancing in every direction. There were also people sleeping everywhere: as we zoomed on the pavement by motorcycle, there were people laying on the pavement on both sides of me, passed out for the night. I was getting tired too!

Walking to Diggi is seen as a holy event, a “mitzvah” or sorts, and therefore all participants are given free food throughout. Our crew of bikers took full advantage of this, stopping nearly every five mintues for free poori, subji, tea, or sweets. Every time we stopped to eat, we got to watch one of the dance parties. Check it out:

 

Diggi:

At about 12-midnight, with my eyes closed and forehead resting on Vijendra’s back, our motorcycle slowed. We had arrived to Diggi.

There was a strict rule that no cars or motorcycles were allowed in “central” Diggi (where the temple was), so we would have to park and walk 4 miles. However, I didn’t have to walk, because I am white. This was my first real experience of being treated differently in India because of my skin color.

The policeman allowed Vijendra and I to bike the 4 miles, while the rest of our crew had to walk. It really pissed me off, but at the same time I was so tired; I didn’t say anything and accepted the ride.

The nightcap:

Vijendra and I arrived at a small temple, (not the main temple in Diggi) which Vijendra said was his “caste temple.” There were names of his relatives written on the walls.

This was our campsite for the night; when we got there, hundreds were already tightly packed in, sleeping on the floor. Not another word was said. I took out a small bed-sheet from my bag and used my arm as a pillow.

Two hours later, at around 3am, the rest of our crew from Bagru arrived to the temple. Suddenly I was spooning with two men from Bagru, neither of whom I knew very well, or spoke any English . With No fan or A/C, our sweaty feet and arms stuck to each other for the next two hours as we flopped around.

At 5am I woke up from people stirring about the temple. Everyone started telling me to “take fresh.”

“Take fresh, Davis. Take fresh.” I couldn’t figure out what it meant – I thought it was a term for prayer. Then I realized everyone was walking out of the temple with small jars of water.

I learned three things here: “Take fresh” means to poop. Everyone was leaving the temple going to crap in the street. Second is that Indians do not use toilet paper. Instead, they use water and their left hand to wipe. This is why (third thing I learned) Indians only eat with their right hand. Yes, you read all of that correctly.

Morning:

After “taking fresh” we left our shoes at the “caste temple” and walked barefoot through the town of Diggi where we got in line to enter the famous Lord Kalyan Ji temple. There were thousands of people in line. The 16 of us from Bagru joined hands in a line and pushed through the sea of people.

It was 20 minutes of elbow-throwing before we were funneled into the temple. We saw the shrine for about 5 seconds before we were pushed forward and out of the temple. And that was it!

We retreived our shoes and prepared to go home. I felt terrible taking another ride on Vijendra’s motorcycle as the white man, so I offered my seat to RamBabu, one of the best dabu printers from Bagru. He seemed pleased and thankful.

I walked 4 miles back with the rest of our crew and we finally left home for Bagru.

Ride home:

What a journey! It took us about 3.5 hours to ride back to Bagru in the blazing hot sun, stopping many times along the way. Everyone was worn down and dirty from the trip, so we stopped for a shower!

 

 

Other pictures:

 

 

 

 

As a student of Political Science I have been eagerly trying to educate myself on the politics here in Bagru. As it turns out, elections were held last week and it was quite the experience. While we don’t have Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump rising in the polls, coverage from the New York Times, or even formal debates, the election took over the focus of the entire town.

Elections are really a 3-week long event, if you include the campaign process. There are two main parties in Bagru: BJP and Congress. From my understanding, there is little contrast in terms of political differences: labor wages, economic ideologies, social issues, etc. They seem pretty similar across the board. BJP is, however, an older party and adheres more to Hindu philosophy.

My host family supports the BJP party, so I therefore became a de-facto member of BJP.

Notably, there is no freedom of choice for political affiliation. I had a discussion with a 20-year-old boy who said that while he preferred Congress, he had no choice but to vote BJP due to his father’s political alignment.

Bagru is divided into 25 districts or wards (sort-of like the Hunger Games). Every district elects one “community leader” – and then the 25 leaders elect a mayor. My district, district 17, ended up electing the independent candidate for community leader – this is very rare. Yet BJP won 15/25 seats in the Bagru parliament, and therefore a BJP member was elected as mayor. This pleased my host family.

3 weeks before the election the campaigning starts. This is an absolute scene to witness. “Campaigning” really means what we call in America as “canvassing.” Candidates walk door-to-door throughout the community, shaking hands, and addressing any concerns people have, ranging from education issues, running water, or trash in the streets. The candidates are joined by their local supporters that range from groups of 10-200 people. Lots of loud chanting while this occurs.

I took part in many of these campaign sessions, leading numerous BJP chants in front of 30-50 of people. In fact, people loved when I would campaign with them, because it created a “we got the white guy on our side” type of mentality. I started picking up on this and backed off a bit.

My observations lead me to believe that politics in Bagru create excuses. Campaigns are an excuse to take off work, to skip school, and to meet up with friends. Sadly, because many men in Bagru are uneducated, election-season offers a time for them to act important. I witnessed dozens of “secretive” meetings about political happenings, lists on lists on lists, and plans for how to win the election. While some of it was worthwhile, I think much of it was nonsense.

This sentiment was echoed with the physical campaigning. For three weeks there would be groups of children walking around Bagru chanting for BJP or Congress. These children were no more than  6-10 years old, and clearly had no idea what BJP or Congress even stands for. Again, it’s an excuse to have fun, to walk around and yell, and to wave colorful flags in the air.

 

 

Two days before the election there was a huge motorcycle rally for BJP. I was reading in my room one Sunday morning when I was told to hop on a motorcycle and join the rally. I didn’t know the other two guys on the motorcycle, but they gave me a BJP flag and we were off.

There were 500 motorcycles taking part in this BJP rally. We rode around Bagru for two hours, screaming BJP chants, honking our horns, taking pictures, and literally wreaking havoc. There was nothing “political” about this – it was simply an excuse for us to ride around on bilkes and have a great time. It is fascinating how politics are so meaningful here in Bagru, but the meaning is incredibly different to what American society would consider as significant.

With that said, I had an absolute blast. Who said politics can’t be fun?

 

 

 

 

So what am I really doing here? If you’ve been following my blog, it might seem like a wild adventure, which it certainly is – but the majority of my time is spent working for Bagru Textiles.

In comparison to past Minerva Fellows at BT, I have a very unique position. The previous fellow, Dave Masterson, hired an Indian manager named Sonia Jain. Sonia speaks perfect English, commutes from  Jaipur every day, and is a crucial asset to our business – but above all else, she has been a great mentor and keeps me good company in the office (my bedroom).

Since Bagru Textiles has expanded, particularly in the past three years, many of the fellows have gotten bogged down with daily tasks: emails, custom orders, meeting deadlines, quality control, etc. But, now that Sonia is here, we get to split the daily business tasks; this allows both of us to focus on bigger, more long-term aspects of the business.

I am still actively involved with daily responsibilities: assessing new orders, skyping with clients, negotiating prices, shipping finished products, updating social media, and dealing with our many inquiry emails. All of this takes lots of time, particularly when the Internet is never cooperating, or it’s 100 degrees, or there are children looking over your shoulder. However, if my role is limited to daily, short-term duties, the business will only maintain its steady trajectory. To grow a business, to expand it, and to change it – one must put in extra time and effort. One must think differently, offering new perspectives.

On the first day at work I ripped off a sheet of notebook paper and taped it to the wall: “Long-Term Goals.” We had a company-wide meeting (Vijendra, Sonia, and myself) and strategized on where the company is heading.

Orignally, Bagru Textiles was founded with the mission to connect consumers around the world with our local artisans, thus enhancing quality of life for our impoverished workers in Bagru. We advertise “pair wages, fair prices” at Bagru Textiles, paying our artisans more than any other company here in Bagru. The business model targeted people like you, who could go on our website and order a stock-item: a shirt, headband, yoga bag, scarf, etc.

While this model got the company off the ground, it wasn’t a sustainable practice. Aside from a handful of Union College students, few people were logging onto our site and ordering  moderately-priced short-sleeve button downs. This, along with sizing and some other issues, caused us to pivot our business strategies.

Today, nearly all of our business comes from custom design prints. Designers from America, Australia, Singapore, etc. work with us to create their own block-printed design for a scarf, cushions, bed sheets, table runners, curtains, etc. This means that our traditional “Bagru designs” have become nearly obsolete. American and European markets are not interested in 100-year-old Indian designs, but rather are attracted to more contemporary, geometric designs you see at J Crew and Urban Outfitters.

Now, instead of targeting people like you, we are targeting high-end designers with boutiques and wealthy, American clientele.

You can check out Block Shop and Seek Collective to see some of our biggest clients.

I have been working hard on having our business model and marketing materials to reflect this pivot. I quickly realized that our company’s mission, information packets, canned response emails,  etc. is outdated. Our website has also been down for a few months, and have been working on revamping all our web content to adhere to our how business expansion. The goal is to have the site up and running soon, which will ideally advance our brand name.

At Bagru Textiles I am essentially my own boss, which also means I am my toughest critic. One of the hardest things, on the business side, is seeing so much opportunity. Every day I find something new that can be fixed or improved, but I it’s challenging to get from  from point A to B. With few hands-on-deck, it’s not easy to swiftly implement these business ‘visions’. We’re not a big company that can hire someone to take on a new project, or throw cash to fix our issues. My brain is overloaded with ideas and objectives, but the process is slow; this can be frustrating.

On the flip-side, I can’t complain about opportunity. I just have to maintain a keen and critical eye on every process that occurs here, and eventually, over time, we will change and develop some of these business strategies into reality.  I’m taking bits and pieces from my education and rubbing them together, trying to ignite a fire for this company.

I am in constant awe of how much responsibility I’ve assumed in such a short period of time. While many people my age have supervisors, who in turn have bosses, who report to CEO’s – there is no concrete chain of command here. The freedom is encouraging, and dares me to work harder, think creatively, and establish something sustainable for this community.

 

Why am I here? I would say the answer is twofold: Fist, to grow Bagru Textiles as a business. In doing so, I am to also aid the local community through social entrepreneurial ventures.

3% of Bagru Textile’s net profits go into a community fund. In the past, this money has been spent on cataract surgeries and water initiatives. All of these projects have been spearheaded by past minerva fellows. Now it’s my turn.

During our first “community meeting” – which consists of 16 printers we contract work to, I asked they wanted – “the people.” The resounding answer was English classes for their children. And just like that, the following evening, I had a crew of Indian children sitting in my bedroom (also my office, showroom, homework room and now classroom).

My original hope was to connect these English classes to Bagru Textiles via the community fund. We came up with the idea of hiring a translator, hoping they would help explain things in Hindi if the students couldn’t understand my English. This would help the class run smoother, and there would be another authoritative role in the room as well.

In this sense, the classes wouldn’t just be me volunteering, but serve a greater, deeper, community purpose. And of course we could throw the BT name on it.

We interviewed a few candidates and found a nice young girl who speaks English. We hired her on a monthly basis.

Classes have been going on for nearly 3 weeks now. We meet 3-4 times per week from 6-7pm.  I’m working with ages from 7-20, so there is a large range.

There is a certain rhythm to each class: the students sit down, write down the 5 english WOD, (words of the day) we come up with sentences for the words, we review past WODs, and then we spend the second half of class doing a speaking activity. I’m completely new to ESL teaching, but I’m coming up with some games the students love. I usually try to incorporate tenses into the games since that is where the children need the most work. For example: “Tell me about what Bagru will look like in 2050.” This was a fun one. No more block printing, Americans everywhere, and many palm trees. Every day I get to laugh at some silly responses they come up with to my questions. At least they are speaking English!

I have gotten a nice group of 10-15 students who regularly attend class. Next week we are having our first exam which will cover all of our WOD’s and some speaking exercises . The students are voluntarily engaged and taking time out of their days to study. I am lucky to have students are want to learn – this also helps my position in the community.

My assistant teacher has been great, but she has turned more into another student than my assistant. As a result, we won’t be paying her after this month. I am disappointed because now the class has no connection to Bagru Textiles (despite the fact it takes place in our office). But hey, overall, the kids are learning and they love it. This is all I could ask for. I’ll be teaching as long as there are people to teach.