Day 8: Boy scouts try to light my fire.

Due to the pile of hate mail at my desk, I see that many of you are offended by my quoting of an Indian calling black people ‘blacks.’ Let me offer you solace by sharing that Indians are racist against everyone, including their own dark members. So stop sending letters (Just kidding. Nobody sends letters anymore, and I don’t have a desk.).

Of course I would be racist by classifying an entire race as racist, so I shan’t do it. Even though I just did. I will just comment that it is much easier for parents to find a suitor for their fair-skinned daughters here in India. And as I write, I am also leafing through a magazine and finding ad after ad for Garnier Skin Lightener for men. One even comes with a skin spectrum that you hold against your face to chart the progress of your Michael Jackson-ifying. (Just kidding. How could I be leafing through a magazine and typing at the same time? But the skin spectrum chart and print ads do exist.)

Despite the quest to be lighter, there is a lot of racism towards white people too, especially me, a woman traveling alone. Teenagers make jerking off motions when they pass me by. Men slow on their motorbikes to tell me about their balls. Kids have even thrown rocks at me. And hit me! Hard! It’s all because Western women are thought to be loose and devoid of morals (the same reason the Taliban wants us all to die.).

My first overt experience occurred on Day 8:

I meet some boy scout leaders. They take me to my first Hindu temple. They love singing and are super enthusiastic about showing me how they sing their favorite song. They offer me wonderful Indian hospitality and buy me an amazing lunch of samosas in sauce. Then, before we part, they buy me little gifts from the gift store. One is a Hindu swastika that wards off evils. Another is a keychain that says, “Love me less but love me long.” It puzzles me every time I think of it.

I have a wonderful day, thrilled that I’ve eschewed my fear of talking to Indians. I am in India, and it is sort of necessary. Finally! The paranoia from Day 1 is forgotten like the art of chivalry. Just before we part ways, they giddily ask me one last question:
“Before we go, Madame. Um… we were wondering if you could, um, give us sexual relations.”
“Ummm…No. Not today.”
“Well, isn’t sex free in your culture?”
“Yes, but you still have to be attracted to the other person during sex.”
“You don’t like us?”
“What do you mean, us? You think I am just going to lay in a bed and have you come in one at a time? Are you serious?”
“Ma’am, can you speak slower? My English is very bad.”
“Forget it. NO SEXUAL RELATIONS!”

I found it in my heart to still love those men. I mean, perhaps racism is just an innocent ignorance. They honestly think that Western women really have nothing to do in their countries but fuck all day long. Since they’ve only got porn to go by, I sort of see where they’re coming from. I let them off the hook and had sex with both of them. One at a time just like they suggested (Just kidding! Both at once.).

Riiiiiiiight.