The Informant

I have never liked the term ‘informant’, but I like it better than ’subject.’ If not for writing purposes, at least for research purposes it is necessary to understand the role of an informant. I am so very very fortunate to have two people with whom I closely work, and they are amazing. Seraj is the director of the orphanage, and his wife Rashida makes most of my meals. Seraj speaks very clear English, which is obviously very helpful to me, but he is not a research assistant. But the way I think of it, you need an informant who is uncommonly aware of the world around him/her, but leads a common life. Seraj does not make much money and really did not have much education, but he is honest, kind, and wise. Rashida does not know much English, but she has quick intuition and an uncanny sense about people.

Seraj explains the various pir-sahebs who have come to the area

Because I’ve become very close to Rashida and Seraj, I’ve also had a close, intimate look at the everyday life of a rural Bangladeshi family. Some of my best conversations are held as I sit with Rashida in their cooking room, as she prepares meals for the day. This is also the place where other local women will come to talk, ask for money (knowing that Rashida, poor as she is, will have trouble refusing), or to plead their children’s cases.

The Interview

The setting of the formal interview makes me very nervous, and I’ve found that such interviews are less overall helpful to my research than the informal, everyday conversations that I engage in with people I have come to know. When I sit down for the interview, I find myself stumbling over the Bengali, and when I listen to my digital recordings, I feel a bit ashamed that I sound like a first-year learner. But in other settings, I am able to gain quite a bit of information about a number of topics, sometimes unexpectedly!

And then of course there are always obstacles to interviewing. Take, for example, this week. Tomorrow is Qurbani Eid (Eid al-Adha). It’s a holiday, but even in the 5 days leading up to Eid, I’ve had a hard time setting up interviews, because no one is working and some have returned to homes not in the nearby area. And I didn’t have enough time, in those 5 days, to make some of the short trips necessary for other interviews. I guess the up-side is that I have a whole day of participant-observation tomorrow, as the eid-gah (place for communal prayer) is right outside my door!

Mumbai’s 9/11

But perhaps not India’s 9/11. There are those who will certainly disagree with me, but I must note how easily life in other Indian cities appeared to continue even on Thursday, as the hotels were still under attack. Perhaps it couldn’t have been any other way. People were certainly concerned, upset, and angry, and security in Kolkata was definitely more than usual, but the kind of stunned silence, disbelief, and grief that I felt–and felt all around me on 9/11/2001 and the days following–were not present in India last week.

One might argue that it is because I myself am not Indian that I did not feel the same sadness and disbelief, but I honestly don’t think that’s the case. I was deeply upset by the terrorist attacks last week, and I followed the news every day. But those around me did not seem to have the overwhelming sense that this event would change their lives and their way of looking at the world forever (perhaps because India has suffered so many terrorist attacks in the last two decades).

And it just doesn’t seem useful to me to talk about anyone’s 9/11, in the same way that I don’t think it’s useful to talk about the Holocaust outside of the Nazi Germany context. This is Mumbai’s.. India’s … own tragedy, and it should stand on its own as a horrible, terrifying ordeal. The rest of the world shares in it–indeed, citizens from all over the world died–but it should not be compared to other events.

One of my favorite authors agrees with me, although he is much more articulate about it:

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/03/opinion/03ghosh.html?_r=1&hp

Crossing Borders

The India-Bangladesh border

I chose to go to Calcutta by bus this time, because K had told me that it’s a nice experience and not at all difficult.  I’m not sure I agree on the ‘nice experience’ part, but it was certainly interesting.  I’ve never crossed a border before except on a plane.  I took the bus from Dhaka at night, reaching Benapole on the Bangladeshi side around 6 am.  We had to wait  in the bus guesthouse, because the border was not yet open.  Then the passports have to be stamped by immigration before you go with all your luggage to the customs lines.   I was whisked through the customs line, and then went to stand in line at the border itself.  You walk across the border, and an Indian BSF officer checks your passport again, after which you have to go through the Indian immigration offices.  Once you’ve finished all the paperwork, you must wait for your fellow bus passengers to finish before boarding another bus to go to Kolkata.

I suppose the trip there wasn’t so bad.. but the trip back felt like an eternity.  I think the next time I’ll just go by plane!