Comments on: Holy Orange

By: Anonymous

Anonymous — Sat, 02 Feb 2013 22:11:08 +0000

I personally think this essay is a great example of the kinds of post-colonial-era dilemmas of subjectivity, voicing, stance, representation, essentialism, orientalism, and genre-ambiguity . . . etc. etc. etc. that writers, memoirists, journalists have grappled with and debated for years: Is an essay, memoir, or report of an experience “in the field” still a worthy narrative if it is not factually accurate or objective? Is it okay for an author’s personal experience and subjective voice to trump facts or to present them in an unbalanced manner? And is it okay if this presentation elicits in the reader longstanding Western perceptions about India that are skewed toward denigrating ideas about and reports of sexual inequalities , gender disparities, poverty, violence . . .?

In my opinion, the very unsettling nature of this essay in its treatment of the subject; its (intentional or unintentional) allusion to popular, “primitivized” interpretations about India; the fact that it provokes so much discussion around this dilemma is what makes it valuable, aside from its theme as a dreamlike, haunting recollection of adolescence.

By: Maha Atal

Maha Atal — Sat, 02 Feb 2013 04:37:31 +0000

So, I accept that this is a personal essay about your teenage experience and that you aren’t claiming a factual representation of India. But many readers will *mistake* this for a work of journalism that offers a factual account of Indian life, and you as a writer bear some responsibility for that.

That doesn’t mean you should alter your memories. But it does mean you should make very clear that they ARE memories, 30 year old ones at that. Right now, I don’t think you make clear that this is the context in which you’re presenting it. I certainly did not grasp that you intended a ‘dream-like’ musing on teenage memories until you framed it as such in the comments.

As Sonia says, the essay taken alone seems to be a definitive statement of what India is. If that’s not what you mean it to be, then there’s a flaw in how you’ve written it that you ought to fix.

By: Antonia Crane

Antonia Crane — Fri, 01 Feb 2013 19:21:29 +0000

Shruti, I love India and the owe a great debt to the people there who showed me love, protected me, took me in and locked hands with me. I was devastated by the rape and murder of the woman called Damini (“lightening”) recently in Delhi and my original essay addressed that directly, but that essay was botched and felt inauthentic. Plus, it had been ages since I’d been to India (2000 and 1885-6) and so much journalistic coverage has been more factual than I could have hoped to be. My experience as a young American girl was meant to be more visceral, even dreamlike. I hoped to convey what an incredible loving act it was for my host sisters and the other kids to protect and shelter me. There are some inaccuracies (people have been diligent about pointing those out to me). Some were deliberate: I didn’t know fresh off the plane that the spitting red was from the delicious and widespread paan: betel leaf, but I did know that later and I didn’t understand the specifics of raksha bandhan until later on, but it happened right around the time I landed in Bombay. The white turbans may have been inaccurate, but who knows? I seem to recall vendors wearing white gauze turbans. Maybe my memory is totally skewed. One thing though, I never mentioned snake charmers (though I did see some) and I never mentioned those gorgeous Bengal tigers (which I also saw in a zoo). I can understand your sensitivity and concern about how India is seen, but I will not apologize for my first person POV or my experience. I am working on a book length work on my year there and hope to express the full, exuberant range of what that experience was. It had a huge impact on my life and I’ll never forget it. Thank you for reading.

By: sonia saraiya

sonia saraiya — Fri, 01 Feb 2013 18:58:13 +0000

This was hard to read. I only feel compelled to add something here because I sometimes write about my experience as a dislocated Indian, and it reminds me of the problems with writing about India, both as an expat immigrant and as an outsider.

Antonia’s writing is beautiful of course, and very evocative of this life stage. As a teenager in India I was similarly amazed and terrified. But it is “factually” incorrect in many ways, and even though of course that’s not the point, it still hurts like hell. Viewing India through the lens of an outsider has poetic merit, but unfortunately, so many people have traveled to India and interpreted it that it seems they privilege this vision over what this place truly is. It feels like the people represented in this essay have been both exoticized and dehumanized, and this has happened over and over again about India and Indian people, and it is exhausting to experience once more. This vague sense of “colors!” and sexual fear and filth is the most superficial understanding of India I can imagine.

I’m not frustrated with the writer’s experience, I’m frustrated that this experience has been presented with very little context and framing. Personally, I think that if this is an essay about the teenage experience, it should have been signaled as such more clearly, because it sounds and reads like the “Indian” experience.

By: Shruti

Shruti — Fri, 01 Feb 2013 09:11:58 +0000

Antonia and Patrick, thanks for the responses. While I understand that this is a story based on personal experiences and not a research article, I must point out that it disparages my country often and in my opinion, will also lead to misconceptions for the readers who haven’t visited India or do not have substantial knowledge about the country. It is just that I am quite frustrated with the way my country continues to be portrayed in western literature. While earlier, it was portrayed as a country of snake charmers and tigers (only), now the writings seem to suggest that India has little to offer beyond poverty and a host of other economic and social problems. I’m sure, Antonia, that your intention was not to offend anyone but I’m afraid I’m offended nevertheless.

By: Patrick

Patrick — Thu, 31 Jan 2013 19:27:27 +0000

Shruti, in reading the piece I see that Ms. Crane says “in some sects of Hinduism, I am told, a woman is supposed to throw her body on top of her dead husband’s” and then goes on to state that she never saw such a thing, although she looked for it.
She isn’t claiming it as factual but rather telling about something that she was told, as a teenaged girl newly arrived in another country. I’m sure we have all experienced, when young, being told a local legend or something far-fetched as if it were true. I perceived this to be what she is relating here.

By: Antonia Crane

Antonia Crane — Thu, 31 Jan 2013 15:33:57 +0000

Shruti, I am not surprised that I got some facts wrong, but this is not a factual essay. It’s a look back from a time when I was young, overwhelmed and impressionable. I am not and authority on India or Indian customs now—nor did I ever claim to be back then. This essay was from my memories which can certainly confuse things.

By: Shruti

Shruti — Thu, 31 Jan 2013 06:44:14 +0000

I’m from India and I’ve lived in Bombay for more than two years. Although most of what you describe in terms of molestation can happen in any part of India, it is least likely to happen in Bombay. I’ve found living in Bombay to be the most liberating experience of my life (I’m a girl). Also, there are quite a few things in your story which are downright inaccurate (E.g. 1. boy tying the thread (rakhi) to the girl – it happens the other way round; 2. Woman flinging herself on top of her dead husband to be picked clean by vultures – you’re confusing the ancient and now illegal Hindu practice of Sati with the way Parsis dispose of their dead – please don’t suggest that Parsis would do anything this henious, in fact, even amongst Hindus, this practice was outlawed in the early nineteenth century itself). All in all, I must take offence at this story.