Banyan Tree Adventures

by Keith Forrester

  Unsurprisingly, India is ranked 116 out of 130 in the global gender gap index. The horrific rape and killing of the student in Delhi in 2012 resulted in demonstrations, political attention and outpourings not previously seen in such cases. After all, there had only been one conviction from the 635 cases of rape reported in Delhi between January and November in 2012. There might well be something specific about Delhi. The city after all has a record of rape that is nine times worse than Calcutta and much higher than other large Indian cities. As the press reports demonstrated over the next couple of years after the notorious 2012 rape, India, and Delhi in particular, is a very tough place to be a woman.

  Rape and sexual violence of course are not particular to India. Survey evidence in Britain and various other European countries indicated the wide occurrence of violence against women – two women a week are murdered by their current or former partner in Britain, and we have the lowest conviction rate – 6.5% – of all 33 European countries. Here as in India and elsewhere, there is nothing inevitable about violence against women. Nor is it a case of ‘happening out there’ and not here. The protests and demonstrations from around the world in solidarity with those in Delhi and other Indian cities indicated the widespread anger at this latest example of patriarchal violence.

  As mentioned in the opening paragraphs to this chapter, it is a difficult task for outsiders to make sense of or understand everyday life in cultures different from our own. Visual representations are available and provide clues as well as provoke further consternation. Being poor constitutes a collection of images and experiences that risk overwhelming what we can cope with and what we can absorb. We might not be clear on the origins or reasons for this poverty, but the evidence is clear. No one visiting the country will forget the images. It is difficult to not contrast these images with the economic success stories dominating popular coverage of the country, locally and globally. It doesn’t add up. It’s a puzzle. It’s bewildering. And sometimes, we realise that it doesn’t need to be like this.

  The final words in this chapter should be those of Dréze and Sen. I have benefited enormously from their 2014 publication and quoted from it liberally throughout the text. Although far from a bedtime read, its closely argued and statistically supported analysis provides a passionate and authoritative dissection of India’s “great achievements” since Independence as well as its “deeply uncertain” future. I doubt the authors ever saw their book as a ‘tourist publication’; but for me, it has opened many closed and, even, invisible doors and avenues. It has helped in outlining and clarifying many issues and topics that were for me as an outsider and occasional interloper mysterious and difficult to experience. The questions and answers raised provide an unsettling read but, importantly, contribute towards a more nuanced understanding ‘of being a tourist’.

  Chapter 7

  “The nearest thing to another planet”

  Contradictory tourists

  It’s funny being a tourist. You think you are a regular, everyday person simply wandering around the city centre, temple, church or whatever. Often you are invisible – not identifiable as ‘a tourist’ – until you open your mouth. At other times, you are very visible and from the looks you get, remember that you are a tourist – different to those around you. Sometimes, as when in Japan for example, this obvious difference results in the opposite – being invisible. Physically and culturally you are different but cultural politeness from local shoppers or bus passengers means they do not acknowledge this difference. To do so would be considered rude or impolite – no eye contact, no greetings, nothing. It’s very weird. Stopping someone and asking for help is another matter; no effort, time or patience is too much trouble. The important difference of course is that you initiated this changed relationship and so indicated a desire to interact.

  After all, we all know what a ‘tourist’ is. We use the word frequently. The people I interviewed and myself are all tourists in India. It’s not too difficult to recognise other types of tourists – namely, white Western tourists. Other tourists are more difficult to recognise. So already ‘being a tourist’ is getting a little more complicated – maybe, after all, we don’t all know what a ‘tourist’ is. In fact the more I considered the term, the more befuddled I became. As questioned in Chapter 2, is ‘being a tourist’ that different from ‘being a traveller’ or ‘being on holiday’ or ‘being on a leisure trip’? Yes, there are technical definitions of being a tourist but they are so broad and general as to be of little value. It is easier to talk of ‘tourism’ rather than being a tourist. In the case of ‘tourism’, we are probably referring to flows of people, infrastructure, revenue streams, transport systems, visa regulations and like matters. People talk of the ‘tourist industry’ or ‘sector’. In contrast, ‘the tourist’ is more complex. For those who study tourism or are involved in the planning or policy aspects of tourism, it is obviously important to be clear on the nature of being ‘a tourist’. There have been frequent and continuing attempts to clarify the nature of this particular experience or activity or effort, as was touched upon in the earlier chapter. Trying to describe, explain or account for all the various aspects associated with this type of activity is not easy. Any attempt to be more precise about what is meant by ‘being a tourist’ (or any other general social experience) inevitably will be contested, and views range from those that agree with the proposed typology to those that reject it. The very nature of any conceptual work comes with debate, controversy, sometimes acrimony, but hopefully also insights and clarification. The payoff for any progress can be significant for various ‘stakeholders’. These intellectual efforts focus mainly on trying to distinguish what is particular to the touristic experience as opposed to other types of experiences. Issues such as permanency, distance, purpose of trip, temporary escape from home routines and self-discovery are some of the avenues explored in studies over the years. These distinctions and characteristics then allow a differentiation of different tourist types and experiences. There are different categories of ‘being a tourist’, in other words. One of the earliest and more influential typologies is Erik Cohen’s 1979 study. At one end of his spectrum is the ‘recreational’ mode, followed by the ‘diversionary’ tourist, then the ‘experiential’ mode, the ‘experimental’ tourist and, finally, the ‘existential’ mode of tourism. Different types of tourists might be distinguished as doing different things – lengths of time away, flexibility of the journey, destinations, accommodation, spending power and so on. More ambitiously, psychological features might be attached to these different types of tourists. Their views of their own society, their motivations for travel, general political views or their general outlook on life might be distinguished along the spectrum. Then there are other attempts to understand ‘tourists’ by concentrating more on the experiences, meanings and attitudes of the tourist themselves – a more subjective focus. This line of thinking allows for the identification of ‘anti-tourists’ – I might be a tourist but I’m not like those other tourists who only want to tick boxes. OK, then comes the rejoinder – but do you know that some types of tourists define what they do in opposition to what they understand ‘tourists do’? And so it continues. While there appears to be no easy consensus to these studies and efforts, it does at least clarify particular aspects of ‘being a tourist’ as well as demonstrating the complexity of the seemingly simple activity of being on holiday or doing a little sightseeing.

  This book is about travelling in India and about a small number of people from outside the country who enjoy travelling in India and have returned a number of times to the country. However, a number of things do hit me when I think about this group and the nature of ‘being a tourist’. For example, they combine or integrate a number of different ‘experiences’ in their visits – exploration, visiting attractions, independently organised, distrusting of ‘authenticity’, aware of being an ‘outsider’ and accepting of the inevitable constraints and limitations associated with tourism. Above al
l they attempt to engage to a greater or limited extent with the cultures, peoples and environment of where they are within India. Our scholarly friends probably refer to these qualities as ‘agency’ – not passive consumers of attractions, cultures or everyday life but instead as actors engaged in attempting, however pathetically, to understand and make sense of their surroundings. Could they even, heaven forbid, be examples of ‘anti-tourists’, mentioned above? To some extent I think they do fit this description. While recognising the huge differences between themselves and the local indigenous population, relationships of trust, intimacy and warmth have developed between these ‘frequent returners’ and particular families and villages. Shared histories characterise these relationships. Small children of long ago are today getting married, others are leaving school to find work, while illness and death take their toll – and they are all shared between the outsiders and the locals. Hurried visits are arranged for the celebrations and for the sadnesses. The visitors remain ‘tourists’ and as such are limited and curtailed by a variety of powerful constraints. They still go ‘sightseeing’ and travelling around the country, still take the trains to go trekking and still go watch and follow the fortunes of various football or cricket teams. Amazing. Yet at the end of the day, it can never really be ‘shared histories’. Although unacknowledged and displayed, the relationships involving the outside tourist are ultimately defined by their power and affluence – it is an unequal relationship. Despite these structural constraints it is difficult not to be warmed by the intimacy of these relationships. Yes, these are tourists but particular types of tourists.

  In this chapter, I explore and discuss aspects of this ‘agency’ or ‘engagement’ by focussing on two of the areas popularly associated with India – namely, Indian cinema and cricket. It didn’t have to be these two subject areas. It could have been Indian cuisine or classical Indian music or Indian wildlife. It happened to be cinema and cricket because two of the small group I talked to were interested in these topics. Both examples I think illustrate the quirkiness and richness of the experiences of India thrown up by this random, small group of people I interviewed. Before I do this I discuss whether the numerous visits to India by some members of the interviewee group had any lasting impact on their lives ‘back home’. I would imagine that all holidays or visits especially abroad would have some lasting influence even though it might be difficult to capture or measure. But what of a group who had made numerous visits to the same country? At the very least, the answers to this question from this group would provide clues about the nature of their tourist experience.

  “Clothes, ganeshas and bangles” back home

  As I mentioned above, one of the areas I was interested in exploring with the informal interviews I did in 2013 with the regular visitors to India was whether ‘India had changed them’. The obvious answer I knew would probably be ‘yes’ but I was interested in hearing about the extent and nature of that change. Much of the general international tourist experience is after all about limiting or closely managing that interrelationship between engagement and experience especially in poor countries. Negotiations take place, at many different levels and in many different ways. Quite a few visitors to faraway, ‘other’ countries seem content to never leave the hotel complex (if on the beach) or without the chaperoning influence of guides and air-conditioned transport. Above all, the best way of getting around – local buses – should never be considered; too dangerous, unsafe or unclean we are told!

  I expected the stories from my interviewees to be different. As might be anticipated, a strong theme that emerged from a number of respondents was a greater critical reflection on their own cultural and material lives ‘back home’. Janet and Mike from America for example talked about their own children and their friends having “been given too much without having to work too hard.” They came “to expect things” and weren’t “too appreciative or grateful” for what they had. In general they felt that: “kids are too isolated and not aware of what is going on in the world. They should see these kids over here,” they continued, “swapping school uniforms every other day so that they can go to school. Our kids should see this and know that education is a privilege. They should want to learn.” Being here in India has “certainly given me a better outlook on life,” remarked Janet. “Those who have nothing are still so friendly and are still smiling.” Mike agreed adding, “It is really amazing that given the poverty, there is no hostility. I really want our children to travel so that they can put things in perspective. It would make them better people if they could see different cultures.”

  Andy, the hospital and care home worker back in England, also picked up on this theme of India leading to re-evaluating things back home. “I appreciate simplicity in life more I think. I seem to be more tolerant here and more patient. I guess you have to be or else you get frustrated and angry.” Given Andy’s developing interest in Buddhism and spirituality in general since coming to India, it wasn’t surprising that the increasing materiality of life in rich countries and also in parts of India worried him. “I have become increasingly aware that Western societies don’t have all the answers. People smile a lot here even when they haven’t got much. I don’t know why.”

  Gina, the part-time employee in the post office in England, and who with her partner Mick at first couldn’t decide whether to visit India or Africa, seemed astounded that I could ask whether visiting India had changed them at all. She then began telling me in great detail about her continuing involvement with the Goan family and the villagers over the last decade or so even when back in England. “The politics of the extended family here is unbelievable,” she said, pausing for breath. “No, no, no – I never switch off from India. My front room back home is like an Indian restaurant with all those table and chairs. I’ve got ganeshas on the wall, drapes on the wall and elephants throughout the house. India brings you up with a jolt; not Goa – you have to travel throughout India. It has a very powerful impact. When invited I give talks in the local school back home. The last talk I gave was in the granddaughter’s infant junior school. The topic was on India and I took in these photographs, terra cotta pots filled with spices, clothes, ganeshas and bangles. The kids sat there riveted. They thought it was brilliant.”

  For Pauline and Sjoerd from the Netherlands, their visits to and experiences of India had changed over time. “When we first came here, we wanted to make a difference, to do things to help,” they said. “When we did, we found out that it wasn’t as good as we thought it was.” I think but am not sure that Pauline was referring to involvement and work with elderly Indian widowed women. “You always think you understand but you never do. You always only have a partial view, especially of village life. Now we seem to be retreating more and more. We are not as involved as much. We are just trying not to leave footprints. The more you try and do something and involve people, the more it seems to backfire.” It appeared to me during the interviews that both Pauline and Sjoerd had thought hard and discussed previously this issue of themselves and India. “Maybe it’s old age,” Pauline continued. “But this place has had a deep impact on me. Before coming to this country I had to make big changes in my life. Everything you thought you had sussed is confronted here and you have to deal with things at a much deeper level. It made me think of changes in my own life. And over here it’s the extremities of having to deal with things. It made me think about the changes in my and our lives. If you have a weak point, you will be confronted by it and have to deal with it. You can’t get round it.” A little later in the interview I returned to this theme of change. “It almost as though India forces you to confront things you have been putting off,” observed Pauline. “And it’s true of other people that I’ve spoken to. Being in India forces you to place or order things in your life. And some of these things are difficult. Something fundamental changes in you. A lot of things begin to add up – not on the surface but on a much deeper, deeper level. I don’t mean this on a political level. It’
s a more spiritual thing and has nothing to do with religion.” At the conclusion of our discussion, both Pauline and Sjoerd agreed that, “India does have this incredible effect on people especially young people. We see and talk to young backpackers and even those that have been in Africa or South America. It hits them when they reach India.”

  Common to these reflections from this sample interestingly is not the difference, the darkness, the dangers or the exotica of India but the impact individually and socially on themselves. Being a tourist, it seems from their responses, is about being inquisitive and has this self-revealing quality. There is this quest for immersion in aspects of Indian life and culture together through personal experience. There isn’t this experienced commodification of places and cultural practices. It isn’t the marketing industry that defines what is distinctive, unusual, striking and extraordinary, not to the same extent anyway. These frequent travellers to India instead seek to move beyond the latest ‘destination branding’ efforts of the tourist industry. And from some of the comments above, the explorations and discoveries while in India – irrespective of their success or otherwise – seem sometimes to be of a qualitative and lasting nature, as the examples below of Helle and Jeff suggest.

  Bollywood and the land of the mad hatter

  The Regal Cinema in Mumbai is a famous and well-known landmark in the city. Located in the Colaba district adjacent to the huge roundabout (Mukherjee Chowk) and opposite the Prince of Wales Museum, the 1930s art deco yellowish building was India’s first cinema with air conditioning and an underground car park. There is only one screen and the velvet-lined seats and curtains are situated within large curved balconies. Hopefully, its days are not numbered despite its image of faded glory. Certainly, it is no match for the shiny new all singing and dancing multiplexes that arrived in the mid-1990s with their improved seating, sound and locations (and increased prices). The single screen venues are kept going apparently by the poor who cannot afford admission prices to the multiplexes as well as by interested overseas tourists. I have passed the Regal many times and also the similar art deco Eros Cinema in Churchgate, almost opposite the station. I’ve not watched a film in either cinema as they appeared closed whenever we passed them.