A couple of weeks back, I shot off an e-mail to a professor at the illustrious Jawaharlal Nehru University in New Delhi regarding his article about diarrheal diseases in urban slums. Basically, I wanted to meet up with him and talk about poop. (This is becoming a more common occurrence in my life than I would like to admit, by the way.) We set a date for a meeting -- that day being today at 2PM -- in his office at JNU. I jetted out of class by 1PM and haggled with a couple of auto-rickshaw guys and by 1:15PM, I was on the road. I felt like I was racing the clock, trying to get to this unknown university on time for this meeting with this mysterious man (whose picture I have seen on the JNU website and all I knew was the fact that he had a mustache).
I arrived on the campus at 1:53PM. I know this because I was checking my watch every minute to make sure that I would make it to this professor's office somewhat on time. From what I understand about Indian culture, it's not even close to a cardinal sin to be late. But for me, being on time is being late and being early is on time, so I always make it a point to be places at least on time -- Indian culture be damned.
Miraculously I found the School of Social Sciences and strolled up to the second floor by 2:01PM. I had to ask a lot of students and there was some light jogging, but I did it. My heart was racing as I knocked on the door. Do I greet him in English or in Hindi? Do I look ridiculous in my kurta? I knocked a second time...to no avail. No answer. After fifteen minutes of wandering the halls of the building (which were graffitied with lots of pro-socialist imagery, including pictures of dying babies and the word "Capitalist" painted in the style of a Coca-Cola logo) and banging on this professor's door a couple of times and trying to find his department's main office, his neighbor asked me who I was looking for. I told her the name of the professor, and she told me to call him. I did, and the professor almost immediately picked up the phone. I was hoping to clear up the whole misunderstanding quickly, but that's not exactly what happened.
"Hello, Professor. This is Maxine Builder."
"Who?" (And I thought this was relatively legitimate because, let's be honest, I'm not an international celebrity or anything. I'm just some weirdo kid who wants to talk to this guy about diarrhea and water infrastructure.)
"Maxine Builder? I'm the American university student you were supposed to meet with at 2PM this afternoon?"
"Who?"
"Um...I'm standing outside of your office right now. Are you in?"
"I'm...not in my office right now. Who is this?"
"Maxine Builder...The American...We were supposed to meet today? At 2PM? Are you coming back to your office?"
"No. I'm not near my office right now."
I stood there for a little bit longer, more confused than anything else. I then found another auto-rickshaw and went to the Select CityWalk mall. I can't really explain the logic behind this decision beyond the fact that I didn't really know where else to go, and I didn't want to head home. I bought a really nice denim kurta from FabIndia and got a cup of chai (with a shot of espresso in it because I've been craving caffeine) and did some Hindi homework and then hopped into another auto-rickshaw to go home. (But the mall is a whole other experience that I should write a separate blog post about. Seriously. It's huge and totally Western. I felt entirely out of place wearing my churidar and my kurta.)
I don't really know how to interpret this experience with the professor. I'm only sort of surprised that he didn't show up for our meeting. I mean, I didn't remind him about it and we made the date a while back and professors are prone to forget things. I should also add that sent an e-mail to the professor and he responded promptly with an apology and kindly answered my questions.
India is like an early 90's computer game. Sometimes you get dysentery, and you usually have to try again later.
I arrived on the campus at 1:53PM. I know this because I was checking my watch every minute to make sure that I would make it to this professor's office somewhat on time. From what I understand about Indian culture, it's not even close to a cardinal sin to be late. But for me, being on time is being late and being early is on time, so I always make it a point to be places at least on time -- Indian culture be damned.
Miraculously I found the School of Social Sciences and strolled up to the second floor by 2:01PM. I had to ask a lot of students and there was some light jogging, but I did it. My heart was racing as I knocked on the door. Do I greet him in English or in Hindi? Do I look ridiculous in my kurta? I knocked a second time...to no avail. No answer. After fifteen minutes of wandering the halls of the building (which were graffitied with lots of pro-socialist imagery, including pictures of dying babies and the word "Capitalist" painted in the style of a Coca-Cola logo) and banging on this professor's door a couple of times and trying to find his department's main office, his neighbor asked me who I was looking for. I told her the name of the professor, and she told me to call him. I did, and the professor almost immediately picked up the phone. I was hoping to clear up the whole misunderstanding quickly, but that's not exactly what happened.
"Hello, Professor. This is Maxine Builder."
"Who?" (And I thought this was relatively legitimate because, let's be honest, I'm not an international celebrity or anything. I'm just some weirdo kid who wants to talk to this guy about diarrhea and water infrastructure.)
"Maxine Builder? I'm the American university student you were supposed to meet with at 2PM this afternoon?"
"Who?"
"Um...I'm standing outside of your office right now. Are you in?"
"I'm...not in my office right now. Who is this?"
"Maxine Builder...The American...We were supposed to meet today? At 2PM? Are you coming back to your office?"
"No. I'm not near my office right now."
I stood there for a little bit longer, more confused than anything else. I then found another auto-rickshaw and went to the Select CityWalk mall. I can't really explain the logic behind this decision beyond the fact that I didn't really know where else to go, and I didn't want to head home. I bought a really nice denim kurta from FabIndia and got a cup of chai (with a shot of espresso in it because I've been craving caffeine) and did some Hindi homework and then hopped into another auto-rickshaw to go home. (But the mall is a whole other experience that I should write a separate blog post about. Seriously. It's huge and totally Western. I felt entirely out of place wearing my churidar and my kurta.)
I don't really know how to interpret this experience with the professor. I'm only sort of surprised that he didn't show up for our meeting. I mean, I didn't remind him about it and we made the date a while back and professors are prone to forget things. I should also add that sent an e-mail to the professor and he responded promptly with an apology and kindly answered my questions.
India is like an early 90's computer game. Sometimes you get dysentery, and you usually have to try again later.
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