The Good Pakistani

One day, a Himachali man was traveling from Shimla to Dharmshala for business. On the road, his scooter was stopped by a cow, and while he waited for the cow to pass, a gang of robbers came upon him. They beat him, took his clothes and money, and left him for dead on the side of the road.

A Brahmin priest walked by the half-dead man not 15 minutes later. He saw the poor soul suffering on the side of the road, but did not want to do anything to help. Karma was the cause of that situation; it was not the Brahmin’s fault that the man had found himself in such a bad situation. The Brahmin continued on his way doing nothing, content in the fact that he had such knowledge in spiritual matters.

A Punjabi shop owner walked by the man soon afterwards. He considered lending a hand, but he knew that Indian laws were suspicious of injured person brought into hospitals by strangers. If he helped, it would be much more trouble for him, and he would have to be in and out of courts and police stations for the next several months at least. Besides, he had his business to worry about. He stayed on his path, his mind focused on work, money and policy.

A Pakistani traveler was the third soul to pass. Pakistanis are not well accepted in India for many reasons too numerous to list. Yet this unwelcome foreigner decided to help the injured man. He brought him to the local hospital and left 10,000 rupees for the man’s bills, promising to return to the area if any more expenses were incurred.

Recognize the story? If you had a Western and/or Christian upbringing, you should. If you grew up in India, maybe it is a strange story to you, but you should definitely pay attention. I believe in helping other people if I see that they need help, and while this feeling may not be shared with every American, it is at least something that is recognized and valued in others. Yesterday I had an experience that showed me how this is not always valued in Indian culture.

I was sitting in Principal Ramdev’s office when another teacher came to the door, not in a hurry, and exchanged words with the principal in Hindi. Ramdev got up and started to walk out of the door. Before he left, he stopped, turned, and motioned for me to follow. “Come with me,” he said. “I want to show you why it is important for you to teach nutrition classes to our students.” We made our way to the second floor of the neighboring building and into Mr. Sood’s math class. In the front row, a girl (who was also a hostel resident) was completely passed out on her desk. Her body and head had to be held up by her fellow students, and while she was conscious, she was almost completely unresponsive.

It didn’t take a doctor to figure out what was likely wrong with her, thought fortunately Principal Ramdev was one. Dizziness, fainting, lack of cognition, intense weakness… either low blood pressure, low glucose or anemia. Probably a combination of all three. She had probably skipped breakfast and was possibly on her period. It was the result of the same problems that I have seen in the overall diet at the hostel, and now I could confirm it with solid experience. The diet is very low in iron and borderline low in fat and protein. In addition, it’s repetitive and gets very boring. The girl didn’t eat her paranthas that morning because she was sick of having them every morning.

The worst part of the whole experience was the walk from the second floor of one classroom building to the hostel, which was on the second floor of the next building. This girl didn’t even have the strength to keep her head up, let alone walk. Two girls were under her arms trying to support her, but she was dragging her feet the whole way and had to stop every two minutes to sit down and gather her strength. All the while, she was out in the middle of the day, in full view of everybody who did not have class and was just standing there watching. Nobody wanted to help. Nobody grabbed a chair, opened a door or brought some water. There was just me, Principal Ramdev, one teacher and the two girls holding her up.

Now, this girl, like nearly every other girl here, was tiny, probably less than 100 pounds. I could pick her up easily. It would have taken me about a minute to carry her from the classroom to her bed in the hostel, yet I couldn’t do it. I just had to stand there and watch her struggle. Even when asking the principal if I could just carry her the rest of the way, he told me that would be a bad idea according to their culture. I know that part of it had to do with a male carrying a female, but come on, the girl is sick and needs help. Yet I could do nothing. That’s just the way the culture is here. If a stranger brought an injured man into the hospital, he would be under immediate suspicion of having caused harm in the first place. So to avoid future hassle, people here just avoid helping strangers. It’s more trouble than it’s worth.

In addition to the culture shock I experienced today, I was also confronted with the problems I have to face with helping the nutrition here. I have generalized three phenomena that can be seen here. One, the highly vegetarian diet means that most people here do not get enough iron, especially the women. Two, the culture avoids a lot of fatty foods, even good fats like nuts, so their diet is low in fat and high in carbohydrates. Three, the young women here have immense social pressure to stay thin, so they don’t eat enough. I can’t compare it to the social stigmas attached with losing weight in the U.S., since I am not a woman, but it seems like the girls here are under even more pressure to stay thin. It must work, because nearly all of the young women here are much smaller and lighter than their Western counterparts. Even I am starting to feel the effects of the diet. I’m feeling a little bit weaker than I did in the states. I sleep longer and it’s harder for me to get out of bed in the morning. When I exercise, I can’t do nearly as much as I used to be able to do. It’s not like I am wasting away to nothing, but I am definitely not feeling as strong or energetic as I did in the states.

Today I learned that in many ways, the culture here frowns upon me lending a helping hand to those in need. I have to disguise my assistance in the form of nutrition lessons to educate people about what they are doing to their bodies and how they can take better care of themselves. I know that their views will not change overnight, and ultimately, the work I do here will make little difference in the big picture and way of life in Palampur. That doesn’t stop me from trying, though.