We continued to accompany the sunset as we flew southward toward Knox. The sky changed without me realizing it. I always wonder how that happens you stare at something so long and yet see no change. Only when you recall your first memory of it do you recognize it's been changing. I guess culture (like everything that is in continual transition) is like that too.
Culture has been on my mind this weekend. I attended a conference aimed at Anavil youth: Anavils being a subsect of the Brahmin caste in Hinduism.
Although youth conventions aimed at people of a certain caste are thought of as meat markets, this one promised not to be one as there would be no parental figures hovering around pointing their children toward propestive partners who are either slim, fair and beautiful or tall, handsome and athletic, depending on gender. It was organized by youth for youth.
Despite finding it somewhat fun and very interesting, it also bluntly reminded me that despite my ethnic roots, I am forever an Indian from Z. I made a few connections and conversed with other Desais, Naiks, Mehtas and Vashees. Got to meet some fellow Zambians.
One experience which I observed with interest was a South Asian club in D.C., called Murali's. I'm hardly around my folk, so when I am, it's like taking an anthropology class. I also learned a lot about cultural hibridity (thanks to Scott LaPierre for introducing me to this concept) and how the Anavil Brahmin Indian culture has morphed with the American culture.
I have to confess: despite the drinking, dancing and meeting of new people, the most enjoyable parts of the weekend were talking with Rina and Nisha and racing the sunset in the sky.
Posted by Jigsha at 7/29/2003 12:16:00 AM | link to entry |