I have been selected to participate in the 2015 Jagriti Yatra – a 15-day train journey around India for young social entrepreneurs. Out of thousands of applicants, 350 Indians and 50 foreigners were selected as ‘Yatris’. I am lucky enough to have been selected as one of the foreign Yatri candidates. I want to thank my friend Julia Hotz who sent me the application months ago.
Essentially, the Jagriti Yatra brings together young, motivated people to change India’s future through enterprise. We come from all backgrounds – 60% of the participants are from rural villages in India. Some have never left their villages, others have never been to India. We are coming together to create something magical.
I will be living on a train for the next 15 days. It is the largest train journey in the world.
Their slogan is “Mahatma Ghandi discovered the nation in a train and so will you.”
Most days, the train stops in a new location where we hear a “role model” speak about social entrepreneurship. For example, the stop in Rajasthan is at Barefoot College where we get to meet the founder, Bunker Roy (TIMES 100 Most Influential People in the World). The rest of the role models range from CEOs of social enterprises, Indian scholars, etc. You can see the list of role models on the website. These stops are followed-up by workshops, discussions, etc.
The majority of the time is spent on the train with other young people who are passionate about social entrepreneurship. They encourage you to have a cup of chai with someone, use a whiteboard, and see what ideas we can come up with. Some of the most famous and successful entrepreneurs in India have participated in this program.
I’ll be journaling every day and taking down everything I learn. I return to Mumbai on January 8th, and fly back to Jaipur on the 9th. I’m sure I’ll have plenty to tell you after that.
Wishing you the happiest of holidays and a safe New Year to you and your families.
I used to have this theory of equilibrium: all people, no matter where they are from, come out even in life. Essentially, for every hardship one encounters, a balancing positive will arise. This was my way to justify anything I saw in life as ‘unfair’: death of a family member, children with cancer, homelessness, or rejection. As an adolescent I truly believed this formula worked – if you lose a loved one, you will meet another to love. If you were poor and hungry as a child, perhaps the strength gained from that experience transforms into a successful adulthood. It’s a naïve formula that I no longer believe in. Let me tell you why.
This world is far from balanced. Most of us can’t ‘balance’ work, play, and family. I surely can’t balance a checkbook; hell, the ‘balanced’ diet you’re following is probably protein or carb-heavy. More poignantly, there is an innate disparity – a lack of balance – between social classes here in India.
Our journey on the mini term directly introduced us to India’s multitude of faces. I realized slowly that, while I thought I really understoodIndia, Bagru does not, and cannot, explain Indian culture as a whole. Truthfully, it barely scratches the surface of rural India, without even touching on the differences with the urban. I’m currently sitting in a café in Mumbai that feels worlds away from Bagru – even New Delhi for that matter.
Going back tobalance. The best forms of government create balance. This is playing out perfectly in the American election cycle right now, where ‘inequality’ is one of the most commonly used words on the campaign trail (aside from “boots on the ground.” Yes, I’m talking to you Ben Carson). The roots of imbalance are vast, ranging from crony capitalism to corruption and, in India, caste. Stability and balance are essential for functionality between families, socioeconomic class and businesses, between religions, political parties, and ourselves. In addition, balance is a key indicator to quality of life. It’s no secret that Scandinavian countries have the lowest Gini coefficient, (measuring economic inequality) and also the highest quantifiable quality of life.
While wealth is a main contributor to this hypothesis of balance, I’m not only talking about economic inequality.
On our last night in Mumbai we went to the rooftop of the Four Seasons hotel for a goodbye drink. The Four Seasons is the nicest hotel in Mumbai in the center of the city. The setting was picturesque. We looked out on a beautiful orange sunset backlit the skyline before us, the sun dipping below the ocean horizon for as far as we could see. As my eyes wandered down however, I descended upon the slums directly below. As I sipped my drink, millions of people living off less than $4 a day were staring up at me. I was wondering what they were thinking.
Only days before, we were on a tour of Dharavi, one of the largest slums in the world – home to 1 million people, and the location of Oscar-winning Slumdog Millionaire. As I walked through the narrow alleyways of filth and gut-wrenching odors, I was fascinated by the organization and lifestyle of the slum, but less concerned with the poverty. After all, I’ve seen slums in Cape Town, South Africa before, and I’ve lived with amidst poverty for the past five months. What bothered me more was where I was going – after I left the slum.
I had seen the way the inhabitants of the slum were looking at me before; it is the same way our printers in Bagru look at our foreign clients or tourists passing by. It’s not a look of hatred or jealousy, but rather pride. It’s a look that says, “you couldn’t live here if you tried,” or “you wouldn’t understand what I’ve been through,” or “have fun at your hotel. I’ll still be here.”
From my experience, most poor people aren’t ashamed of what they have – they’re proud of themselves for persevering and succeeding with the cards they’ve been dealt. Now, that is an admirable quality.
There is a distanced relationship between the passerby and citizen, where respect must be earned, not given. I wanted to stand there in the Dharavi slum and tell them that I can do it. I want to live with you. But, at the end of the two-hour tour, we boarded our coach bus and went to Starbucks, shopped around a mall with Gucci and Rolex stores, and slept in our hotel with fresh linens.
I’ve found it amusing yet perplexing that I’ve been able to seamlessly float between the rich and poor of India. I’ve seen arguments in Bagru about purchasing a 5-cent pencil. I’ve even screamed about 2 cents with a rickshaw driver. I’ve legitimately fired a printer in Bagru who make less than $150 a month, and gone to malls in Mumbai that are no different from American luxury. I’ve felt comfortable in both circles. Now I’m having trouble deciding to which I really belong.
I feel more unbalanced than ever before, like a swinging pendulum that shifts every second. Union seems closer than ever, but miles apart.
If you were to ask me if I could pinpoint 1 skill since I’ve been here, what would it be? My answer would be this: if you were to drop me in any village in Rajasthan, India, I would have no problem walking around and making friends. I wouldn’t feel intimidated approaching a Chai stand with ten Indian men with fabric wrapped around their heads, shooting the shit in Hindi. It’s an intangible skill that I’ve developed, a certain second-hand nature of how-to-act and what-to-do. Yet, at the end of the day, what does this really get me?
On the contrary, if you were to drop me in any poor neighborhood in Chicago or Detroit, I would feel lost and foreign. I’ve found a sense of belonging in a very particular place in the world – a very specific place in India. Now, I’ve been on the other side of the swinging pendulum; in Mumbai, I’m just another dude.
I’m still trying to find the balance. So is India, and America, and each one of us.
Yesterday I finished a 3-week mini-term with a group of 16 Union students. To be honest, I currently writing from Mumbai where I find myself overcome with a deep sadness, a sadness that I haven’t felt since coming to India.
From a holistic lifestyle perspective, spending time with Union students was a treat. I honestly forgot what it felt like to be an American college kid again. In the past six months I’ve gone from doing keg stands and playing Edward 40-hands, (if you’re not a millennial, look it up) to spending time with my family and dog, to living in a rural Indian village, to getting in the best shape of my life, running the world’s highest marathon, to living comfortably in solitude, thriving in a new city, and expanding the definition of my home. My latest journey on the mini term might have been the best of all.
The first few days were incredibly frustrating. As I described in “Fitting In,” I have developed a liberating belonging in India. The streets don’t scare me, but rather invite me to explore. As such, when 16 Americans arrived in Delhi and ventured out for food the first night, only to return minutes later and order room service, I was a bit befuddled. I quickly realized that my five months of “just do it” mentality, and understanding of the small cultural nuances of a foreign culture couldn’t be adopted in a few short days. But, as time went on, I realized I couldn’t blame them (sorry Julia, Hannah, Jessica etc.). I was the same guy not too long ago, deeply afraid of purchasing a banana from a fruit stand in Bagru. And just like I did, the students on the trip grew immensely with each passing day, learning and exploring India, becoming ever more accustomed to the poverty and chaos around them.
It was also nice to have intellectual conversations with other people than myself. Finally I had the opportunity to delve into issues I’ve been grappling with for months, and seeing others go through the same process made me reflect on my own experiences thus far. It was also nice to kick back and have a few drinks and have fun. Good, carefree fun with friends is perhaps the greatest thing in the world. Thank you, friends, for a fantastic time on the trip.
As the trip went progressed, I realized how far I’d strayed from the person I was back at Union. As the trip developed people kept commenting that I was transitioning from “Indian Davis” back to “American Davis” in my dress, appearance, language and behaviors. I even shaved my moustache. I’m not sure if I ever explained the reason for the stash – but there is a saying in Hindi, “Mooch Nahi, Tookuch Nahi” which translates to “Without a moustache, you are nothing.” I grew my moustache to gain respect in Bagru (and yeah, because I’m 22 and living in India). So, Davis is now clean-shaven. You’re welcome to all those who have requested to bring out the razor.
To be honest, I’m no professional when it comes to India. It the grand scheme of things, I still know nothing. I have way more questions than I’ll ever have answers. For better or worse, I think I’m just “Davis” and don’t need a country tagline.
Nonetheless, spending time with my peers made me understand just how different my life has been, and what the implications of are. I made amazing new friends that have changed my perspective on returning to India next year. While I am free and happy here – I miss my family and friends back home. Life is going by without me, and I truly feel that way now. I watched every student pack and leave for the airport, talk about what their first meal home would be, what their New Years plans are, and how they can’t wait to see their boyfriends/girlfriends. I’m still here. My brother’s engagement party last weekend, Christmas Eve, ski trips and family dinners. It’s all going by. Feeling a bit stuck, yet, this is what I signed up for. I find beauty in small moments, like walking outside and being overwhelmed by noise and color, or screaming at the top of my lungs on a beach run. Freedom.