
Growing up, one of my favorite Disney movies was “The Jungle Book”. I mean, what’s not to like about a boy raised deep in the jungles of India by a fun-loving group of animals that sing and dance? In recent years, I’ve taken to Bollywood films, movies produced in India’s entertainment capital Bombay. The films are known for their epic stories, deep character development and spontaneous dance sequences. In short, they’re fantastic.
But the films only teased my fascination with India in the same way that “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” or just about any kungfu film did with China. It made sense then that the next time the travel bug bit, my finger was clicking on the “Book Now” button for a roundtrip flight to India.
My itinerary, a three-week trip from March to April with my friend Brian Peach, included the heart of India before swinging out into the country’s western frontier near Pakistan. Of course I’d see the Taj Mahal, but I’d also visit the sacred Ganges River with stops at numerous temples and towns. Then I’d head into Rajasthan, the land of kings and a state known for its beautiful cities and diverse landscape.

Map source: wikipedia
From college courses and my general interest in Asia, I knew the basics about India’s ancient past and its many religions. I knew the food would be spicy, that the nation’s population of close to 1.2 billion could be unnerving, and that there wasn’t really going to be a menagerie of jungle bears and cats prancing about. But that last part was ok – at least there would be cows roaming freely in the streets and maybe a few monkeys here and there.
What I didn’t know was how deeply I’d fall for the country, its people and its culture.
India was incredible, a true attack on the senses that left me mind-boggled and amazed.

The narrow streets of the old cities teemed with an odd concoction of people and animals, colors and culture. Traffic, dominated by the tiny half-cab, half-rickshaw called a tuk-tuk, moved slowly, allowing me to take in the scenery before suddenly whirring off at faster-than-necessary speeds. Back alleys provided a peek into the past, with shops and storefronts selling roughly what I imagined they sold for the past hundred years or so. The air had the rich smell of spices: masala, cinnamon, an assortment of peppers and multi-colored other things.
Hindu women rushed about wearing bright colored traditional saris while carrying baskets on their heads. Well-mustachioed Sikh men had turbans atop their heads. Muslim women kept their faces covered. Despite the heat – average temperatures hovered in the 90s for most of my trip – everyone wore slacks or dresses. Shorts, particularly at holy sites, are considered inappropriate since they allow the knees to poke out. Unnecessary exposure of body parts is frowned upon.
Kids vied for my attention, shouting “One photo please”, always with the polite “please” on the end. After each photo, they’d rush to my side to look at my camera screen before screaming, shouting and running off. A few adults also wanted their photos taken.
Everyone I talked to greeted me with “namaste”, a customary Indian welcome.

Half-dead stray dogs found refuge in any shade they could as cows ambled about in search of food and an occasional scratch on the chin. Cows, considered sacred in the Hindu religion, can come and go as they please – or sit in the middle of the street blocking traffic, which happened on a number of occasions.
The food was an explosion of flavors I’d never tried before. The dishes –usually a curry, rice with vegetables and buttered pita bread called nan — were spicy as expected, which had worried me given my strict stomach, but sat better than most zesty Chinese dishes. There were a few inconveniences, but most bathrooms were easy to find or have someone point out directions to.

And this was just in New Delhi, my first stop. The rest of the country offered even more experiences.
One thing that remained unchanged across India was the people’s interest in me. Their questions followed almost the same pattern in each region: Where are you from?; What’s your name?; and then either “Do you like India?” or “Are you married?” It was comically similar to what most people asked me during my travels in China, sans questions about my salary.
Something about the way the Indians asked and talked, and badgered me about finding a wife sounded more genuine. It wasn’t feigned interest for the sake of being polite but actual curiosity, followed by amazement when I told them I was from New York City (it’s just easier to tell foreigners that than trying to explain where my hometown Tamaqua is).
Their response was always: “New York City, America are great places.” My response was the same too: “Yes, they are. But India is a great place too. And I really love it here. Now can you point me in the direction of a bathroom?”
Safe in the Police State
Columbine. Virginia Tech. Aurora.
When are we going to learn?
Reading about the recent tragedy in Colorado last week, the story of a man gone mad and a defenseless crowd of theater-goers forced to play witness to their own horror film, was saddening, depressing. But it wasn’t surprising.
Gun violence, like capitalism in many respects, has become synonymous with America. It’s embarrassing, really, that we’re one of the last modern nations that somehow feels guns in the hands of Average Joe is still a good idea, that the words “gun control” to some people are words of blasphemy, an affront on all things American.
As an expat in China, gun violence isn’t a problem I have to worry about. It’s one of the limited, perhaps only, perks of living in the world’s largest police state. Freedoms here are few, but so are guns. And this is the country that invented gunpowder.
Under Chinese law, Average Zhou is strictly prohibited from owning firearms. Possession leads to a three-year prison sentence, while using a gun to commit a crime often yields a death sentence.
Modern gun laws in China date back to the 1960s, when the government passed sweeping legislation outlawing the manufacture and ownership of guns by private citizens. The act came after children playing with a rifle shot out a window in the Great Hall of the People, according to historians. That’s like kids walking up to the Capitol and playing target practice.
But peek behind the red curtains and you’ll see that gun control in China isn’t meant just for public protection – it also keeps the government safe too. These laws in China prevent exactly what the Constitution tries to defend: the people’s right to bear arms to guard against an authoritarian government abusing its powers to impose tyrannical rule. China’s great helmsman, Mao Zedong even famously said that “political power grows out of the barrel of a gun”, a credo he and the Communists used to supplant the Nationalist Party in 1949 and establish the People’s Republic.
No one seems to complain. The Chinese I spoke to all said they feel safer knowing there aren’t guns on the streets, at least not in quantities comparable with the United States. More importantly, the Chinese have bigger problems — social and political – taking precedence over the desire to buy a gun.
“Chinese people have lost so many human rights in all aspects, and losing the right to own a gun is nothing compared to birth control (China maintains a one-child policy to control its population) and restrictions on relocation (social mobility is limited and people are not always able to move from rural to urban areas or even between cities). That’s not to mention restrictions on buying a car and purchasing a house in tier on cities,” one of my female Chinese friends, who wished to remain unnamed, said.
This friend will be studying in the United States in the fall. I followed up with the obvious question: Are you afraid of going to the United States after hearing about all the instances of gun violence, particularly the incident in Colorado?
“It is disturbing and I’m of course worried,” she said. “It’s not all about owning a gun. Guns make it easier to commit a massive crime, but it’s not the weapon that should be blamed.”
Should the United States take a page out of China’s textbook on gun control? No. We shouldn’t even be reading the same book.
Banning gun ownership won’t stop gun interest. It may even pique people’s fascination with the tabooed items, as is happening in China where the rich look to add rifles and handguns to their collection of expensive play toys. Hunting is also becoming popular on the itineraries of the country’s wealthy.
What the United States needs is limitation and regulation, not a complete ban. Do you have the right to buy a rifle to go hunting during deer season? Absolutely. Does that rifle have to be an AK-47 or other automatic weapon? Probably not.
At the very least, gun enthusiasts who point to the Constitution and cry “freedom” need a history lesson. When America’s defining document was signed in 1789, establishing the right to keep and bear arms, it took a lengthy process to fire and reload a single-shot musket. America’s forefathers could never have anticipated the firepower of assault rifles, or that one day one man could walk into a movie theater and cause as much death as a decent size formation of Revolutionary War era soldiers.