Saturday, September 25, 2010

Homely?! I think NOT!

What is with Indians and our use of the word "homely" as a compliment?  I recently got a FB request from a guy who's reason for wanting to be friends with me was that he liked my "homely face".  Have to admit...I didn't know whether to be flattered or offended, to laugh or cry.

I know that in India, homely is considered a compliment.  But where I come from, homely means plain and unattractive...not a very effective pick up line!  I'm no Aishwarya Rai but "homely"?!

I did try to remember that for him this was a high compliment...that parents advertise for husbands by describing their daughters as homely (gah!).  So, I politely declined his friend request and pointed out that homely means very different things in some parts of the world and in future he may want to remember that.    

But to be honest, I wouldn't want to be considered "homely" even by Indian standards.  Homely in India means simple, comfortable, reminding one of home...perhaps even domesticated.  Is that really what I want a man to think of me?!  I suppose it is meant to be a compliment that I remind him of his mother and home but really...if I want anyone to think of me in the same thought as their mother, I'd rather it was a child and not a guy hitting on me!  And the other option is even less appealing - that I perhaps remind him of a comfortable slipper or a favorite pet.  **shudder**

Why must we describe our daughters, sisters, and wives with adjectives that downplay their beauty, intelligence, and ambitions and equate them instead with words that remind me of a puppy...or a comfortable but forgettable cushion we have on our couch?  If we must have matrimonial ads, why can't she be "beautiful", "intelligent", "vivacious"?  Even "warm" and "caring" would be great...but maybe it's time to leave the "homely" words at home!

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Life as a Single Desi - Torn Between Two Worlds

There was a time growing up when I was the shining example my Mausis, Mamis, and Bhuas would hold up to their children.  Despite growing up overseas, I was always fairly traditional.  We spoke Hindi at home and I had learned to read and write it as well.  I dressed conservatively and always respected my elders.  There is a story my mother still recites so proudly to her friends from when I was in third grade and we went to visit some relatives while in Calcutta.  One of my cousins asked "Aap konsi class mein ho?" ("What grade are you in?") and I responded in hindi, "Teesri mein".  My cousin was floored.  He said no Indian child would actually ever respond in Hindi but would s rather ay proudly, "I'm in third grade".

But over the last few years, the luster seems to have dulled on my good-apple exterior.  You see, I'm over thirty and yet unmarried - unheard of and very very disturbing to my whole family.  As far as they're concerned, it's as if I've gone over to the dark side.  My mother is convinced it's her fault and she's a failure as a mother and woman because she has not married me off yet.  My father doesn't say it but is similarly dismayed.  And my grandparents....I think I'm causing them physical pain.  A great feeling, let me tell you, to know you're a source of pain and suffering for those you love.

It's not like I deliberately set out to torture them.  But I always felt torn between two realities.  Although my parents are quite progressive in many ways, when it came to boys they were always pretty traditional.  I still remember a classmate calling me when I was in high school on a weekend, probably to ask about a homework assignment...only I'll never know because my dad gave him such a scare he never called back.  Similar story on my first day of college orientation.  And even during college, anytime I mentioned a male friend's name in perfectly innocent terms on the phone to my parents, I could tell there was some consternation on the other end of the line.

The problem with being an overall good kid is that you always want to please your parents.  So is it any surprise that I never dated?  I came up with a hundred excuses anytime someone asked - "oh it would be a bad idea because we live in the same dorm", or "oh well you're graduating this year so what would be the point".  I even recall a friend, fellow desi (probably my parent's dream son-in-law), who I was very attracted to who was similarly attracted to me.  My excuse that time?  Well another friend of ours had a crush on him so I couldn't date him...of course not!  Forget that this mutual friend had a crush a week and he was the just the flavour of the moment!  It was a perfect excuse.

After all, a good, typical Indian girl does NOT date!  So how could I?  Except I wasn't exactly a typical Indian girl either.  A typical arranged marriage, which is how my cousins all found their husbands, wasn't really an option for me.  We were just advanced enough of a family and just removed enough from India that we knew it wouldn't work in so many ways.  Plus, given how much I had invested in my career, marrying someone who would expect me to stay home and cook and raise kids seemed like I would be betraying myself and my parents.

So...I couldn't date and I couldn't get married the way the rest of my family did.  Nothing new there...after all, this is the typical second generation immigrant conundrum: being caught between two very different worlds - those of your parents and those of your peers.  Is it any wonder I'm still single?

Yet it's still difficult for my family to understand.  My parents just want me to find someone, they don't care how.  I think at this point, they'd be fine with anyone I brought home as long as he had a Y chromosome somewhere in his body...they'd throw him a parade.  My extended family is equally frustrated and can't understand why the myriad of boys they've given my contact information to won't suffice?  How do I explain that I'm stuck between wanting a little bit of both worlds?

Yes, I want a husband and kids and all that...I want to make my parents happy (see how selfless I am?) and fulfill my grandfather's dream of going to my wedding.  I want to have children and raise them and be a good wife and mother.  I want to have grandkids someday and spoil them silly.

But it's not enough to be married for the sake of getting married...I want to marry someone I actually want to grow old with.  I'm enough of a traditional desi to believe that love grows and that it can be nurtured and cultivated as millions of arranged marriages have shown.  I believe that love is a decision, a choice, and yes, even a compromise.  You have to be willing to give up a little of yourself.

But shouldn't that be a mutual decision borne out of some understanding, some connection?  I don't mean love-at-first-sight, butterflies-in-my-stomach kind of connection (although I wouldn't object to that).  But at minimum a desire to pick up the phone and call the other person when something good or bad happens in your day....a tiny bit of desperation to see them and spend time with them every once in a while...is that asking too much?

I haven't completely given up hope of finding someone who meets those two criteria...but, to be honest, I recognize that it may never happen and I'm ok with that.  Because as much as it hurts me to see my family suffer, I know that I'd rather be alone than in a lonely relationship for the rest of my life...

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Coming to America



As a rule, my memory is not the best and most days blur into one another...but I remember my first few days of college so vividly, it's as if they occured yesterday.

Although I am Indian by origin, I grew up as an expat from a very young age, attending an American international school.  Despite being surrounded by friends from almost every continent and watching American movies all the time, however, adjusting to college life in the US was, well, a shock.

I was prepared for the larger adjustments - the coed dorm with its coed bathroom (why why?) on the first floor, the free flowing alcohol at parties with a few token sodas for the token non-drinkers like me, the granola roommate who went running at 5am every day (triple why??).  After all, I watched the movie Son in Law with my parents two weeks earlier (more on that some other time!) so I was relatively prepared for the overall madness.  

But little things surprised me.

I spent the first month lost.  Now, anyone who knows me knows that I have a reasonably good sense of direction and can follow a map like nobody's business.  But still, for a month, I biked in circles and was constantly lost when in the car with friends.  Until, of course, the day I realized that street signs in the US are placed parallel to the street they name...whereas at home they are perpendicular to the street.  So I always thought I was supposed to turn when, in fact, I was already on the street I was looking for.  Many many circles have I travelled in vain.

There were other adjustments...I wasn't the only one in my dorm who had never used an ATM card or washing machine before, but I was one of the few who had never even seen them before.  And then there was the dorm cafeteria, where "vegetarian" was a dirty word.  I don't even want to think about the number of rice, corn, tofu and soy sauce meals I had!  Best weight loss plan ever.

But perhaps the hardest part of being here was always feeling a few steps behind in the conversation.  I thought I was familiar  with American pop culture.  I mean, I did go to an American school and we listened to American music and watched American TV shows and movies...or so I thought.  What I didn't realize was that the American shows I'd been watching were several years old and most of the music and movies were similarly outdated.  Episodes of shows that I had seen but weeks before were beyond even the rerun stage, and music that my friends considered classics were brand new to me.

I still remember sitting in the dorm lounge with a few other dormmates, working on some dorm project and feeling completely lost as the two sophomore girls were singing along word for word with a song on the radio I'd never even heard of (and that seemed to be playing over and over and over again).  Now I know it was the song Stay by Lisa Loeb and I could probably sing along to most of it myself even to this day.  But back then, it was like they were speaking another language.  Not only were all the jokes and references over my head, but I couldn't even keep up with the music??!  What planet had I come from and where had I landed?

Add to that the fact that I was far away from home and that, too, for the first time.  Other kids talked to their parents once a week because they didn't really want to talk to them more frequently...I did so because to call them more frequently meant paying crazy amounts of money in phone calls.  My peers went home for long weekends and thanksgiving...I never had that luxury because home was just too far away.  And the loneliness was...character building.

It took a few months but eventually I caught up to the references and conversation of my peers.  I worked hard at watching lots of TV and movies and listening to a variety of music...after all, I had to keep my learning priorities straight!  I found friends who helped me negotiate the bizarre world I had landed in and even to blend in (sometimes).  My roommate found a boyfriend and did most of her 5am running from his room instead of mine.  


Slowly, the memories of those early days slowly faded and were replaced by the usual college moments: piling 9 people into my friend's very small toyota corolla hatchback with three of us (me included) sitting in the trunk; pulling an all nighter to watch a movie marathon and then doing the same the next night to study for a chemistry test; almost falling asleep during a chemistry test; sitting in the dorm hallways talking about absolutely nothing for hours on end; jello slides and impromptu dance parties.

But every so often, I am reminded of that scared, lonely, fascinated girl I was in those first few months of college and am amazed at how far I've come.  I meet someone who has just moved here and see that same deer-in-the-headlights look in their eyes that I must have had.  I try to tell them to hang in there...it'll be fine.  But I know that nothing I say can take away the overwhelming fear and excitement they are feeling.  Only time - and lots of late nights with friends - will help them find their groove, their niche.  And one day, they will look back with laughter and nostalgia at the newness of everything that comes with being displaced from our usual surroundings, at being an expat.  Just as I am doing sitting here now.