Happy Birthday, Ma'am

I celebrated my 24th birthday on Thursday. I guess now I'm old enough to be called Ma'am. I was thinking about how far away I am from 23, or at least, my 23rd birthday. I got lots of hugs and hand-drawn cards from the students as well as chocolates that they bought with the spare Rupees they could scrounge up. I had a hearty meal of chow mein in the company of some ten-year-olds, played a rousing game of Uno and went to be happy and satisfied. All of this is a far cry from the celebration of my 23rd year with some friends at Pravda in New York City where we racked up a bar tab significantly higher than the annual national per capita income in India.

This is not to say I didn't have a happy birthday last year (I did). I'm just making the comparison in perspective and priorities, and how not only have mine been changed already by India but also the entire year leading up to it. I haven't even been here a whole month yet, and I've already learned more than I could have anticipated. Every day is an ever changing tide of emotions from sheer joy and fascination to frustration and even guilt. Guilt for all the times I complained about my own financial struggles or felt like I needed more than what I had. In reality, I've been so blessed with opportunities and experiences, and I've realized, have everything I need already.

The students always ask about my life in America and what school is like there. One night, two girls were asking me about how much people make in various professions. They asked how much I was making when I was working in publishing in New York. I gave them a small range, and their eyes grew wide and they exclaimed that I was so rich. I didn't have the heart to tell them that what I was making in New York hardly paid for my rent, my bills, my student loans, and my food. I didn't tell them that my meager salary put me at the bottom of the heap and was hardly enough to survive in New York. I didn't tell them about how many times I went broke or ate ramen for a week straight because I couldn't afford much else. Because at the end of the day, I had an apartment with a television, heat and a/c, running hot water, a computer, an iPod and clothes that I don't wear. I've traveled internationally. I was fortunate to go to school where not only did the electricity not go out seven times a day but had dozens of computers and televisions in every classrooms, classes with fewer than 40 kids per one teacher, marker boards rather than chalk, a cafeteria not infested with flies and thousands of resources at my fingertips.

The feelings of guilt have passed and been replaced with sheer gratitude for all that I have. Obviously, I knew how fortunate I was before I came here. But it just became much more real to me when I was able to make the comparison first hand rather than theoretically based on what I've read and been taught. And to see that none of the physical possessions (or the lack of them) make one bit of difference.

For the record, however, ramen in India is the ONE thing that is more expensive here than in America. I saw it for sale for 15 Rupees, which is about 33 cents. Isn't it 10 cents in the U.S.?