the fun hour

Yesterday was great. Saw two and a half films during the day, which always makes me feel like I'm being constructive. Went grocery shopping around 5. Walked a lot holding heavy bags with freezing hands. While walking home from the bus stop roomie and I spotted three foxes close to our apartment building. They saw us approaching and ran into the woods behind them. It was more exciting than scary.

I had rushed back right in time to observe the Earth hour. I had spoken to my friends Brend and Nam, who are usually clueless about everything else but their academics, and told them about switching off their electricity for one hour. They gave a giggly acknowledgment of my request, and I left it at that. Roomie and I turned off the main fuse, and arranged the groceries in candle light. We found ourselves reminiscing about the frequent power cuts back home - all the excitement and suffering involved. Come to think of it, power cuts are such a large part of my childhood adventures and it would seem almost out of character for people in India not to have power cuts. It is highly inconvenient, but it is an imperfection that makes us special. Saying this makes me worry if I'm romanticising it because of my present distance from it.

The fact is that I don't like the American machine-like perfection. I think that's what makes them so bland and boring. The only bits of culture they relate to are their own misinterpretations of Native American culture after they successfully exterminated them years ago. Yes, this is the result of my Visual Anthropology class.

The class, which is twice a week for two hours each, makes me angry each time. The readings for class are all about how the fucking "Westerner" (anthropologist) screws the happiness of the "third-world" subject by misrepresenting, alienating, and insulting her. An example is given of how a team of anthropologists go to Cairo and get into trouble for photographing an apartment building, inside of which they had just done a long interview with one family. From this experience they learn the intrinsic value of the private space in Islamic culture! Can you believe that? And these people call themselves anthropologists! They don't know the meaning of diversity - of varied dynamics in different cultures and communities. They isolate their subject and throw their Western "gaze" all over the place feeling all high and mighty. Anthropology as a discipline always fascinated me, but now I understand it's inherent problems, and that makes it much less fascinating. I'm hoping it will be more of an inclusive and fair discipline when studied in the "third world".

Coming back to last night. So in the middle of our reminiscing, the doorbell rings loudly. I run out to open the door, confused because I wasn't expecting anyone, and there they are - Brend and Nam standing with their bags full of books. They join us and we sit around a table chatting and listening to great music (since I have the controls). After some laughter and drinks, they leave. I watch almost 3/4ths of "Black and White" before I fall into deep sleep.