The Burden of Being Indian

Right now I am taking a course called "Property rights, natural resources, and conflict." Sounds pretty interesting, right? Well it's not! And last week I was really embarrassed in class, which makes me hate it more. About an hour of lecture had gone by, and I had been day dreaming for about 58 minutes of it. But then everything changed. Out of nowhere, my professor points at me and says "You're from India, right?" Oh god. Why is he asking me this? What has been said in the last hour that has led to this comment directed at me? I responded, "Uh, my family is from there but I live in the US."
He replied "Yes, but you are from India, and you have a strong connection to the country?"
"Uh, yeah, sure, I guess."
"So do you agree with me?"
Oh. My. God. Agree with what?! Agree that the food is delicious? Agree that the caste system is great and should've never been abolished?! Agree with what? I could feel my face turning bright red (luckily I'm brown though so you can't really notice that much) and I was literally starting to sweat. I had no idea what to say so I just muttered out "Um. I'm not sure. I haven't been back there in a while..." He gave me a puzzled look, and clearly, I had just made a fool of myself. He sort of lowered his eyebrows at me, as if to say "How is that girl in grad school right now?" And after he said a few more things, I realized what he asked me, and it was such a simple question that anyone could've answered, whether or not they were Indian. But it was too late for me to chime in with my agreement at that point. So I silently sat in shame. But then later in the class, he points to me again and goes "You must know what tank irrigation is, right?" I DON'T!!!! Does anyone?! And now whenever he mentions India (which is a lot, since he did research there) he points his hand at me. I don't think he really heard me when I said I live in the US... Needless to say, I skipped class yesterday and today.

On a happier note, I went to Edinburgh, Scotland this past weekend. I absolutely loved the city, it was full of charming cafes and pubs, and so much history so we always had something to do. Except every now and then we encountered a Scottish person whose English we could not understand at all. Including our bus driver from Glasgow to Edinburgh. He hated us. But he talked like a drunk fool, so whatevs. Also, multiple people felt compelled to point out how short I am.