Afterwards we cleaned ourselves up a bit, then headed out to pick up appetizers (the expected-yet-still-delicious samosa) for Aditya’s brother & sister-in-law’s Diwali party. We arrived right on time – i.e. early – and helped finish setting up the decorations before the rest of the guests. Great food, good conversation, and a nice clear night. Can’t ask for much more. I hope everyone else’s Diwali weekend is going wonderfully!

Aditya picked up the tealights and holders from IKEA. Ah, IKEA - the place where tealights are so cheap, Maa and Baba purchased some to take *back* to India!

After lighting all fourteen of the candles, we took a moment to appreciate their light and the meaning behind them.

Afterwards, we put the candles on a tray (also from IKEA, like 90% of our household) and carried them out to the front yard. The dogs were, as always, highly interested in anything that originated in the kitchen.

We discovered a little neighbor when we went to set the candles down. Lucky for this newt (?), the dogs didn't notice him.

Kajol waited patiently for us to finish up by the front gate threshold.

After dressing in kurtas, we headed over to Dada and Bhabi's house for their Diwali party.

We helped finish up with the decorations for the party after we arrived, including placing these tealights around the Buddha in the garden pond.

If you’re interested, a few more photos of our Diwali evening can be found on my flickr page.

Happy Diwali, everyone!

This weekend a bunch of us “gori bloggers” were featured in an article in the Mid-Day Mumbai. It’s a fun little piece, with lots of different viewpoints featuring some of my favorite bloggers – the questions the editor at Mid-Day asked were pretty thought-provoking for what I thought was a tabloid! I’ve uploaded scanned versions of the article beneath the fold, along with the complete answers I sent in.

Like most popular magazine articles, the editors Sowmya Rajaram and Suparana Thombare had to severely edit my words (and, I’m assuming, the other bloggers) in order to fit everything into the space allotted to them for the feature. But I think they captured my sentiments pretty well, overall.

The other bloggers featured were, from top to bottom:

• The Bad Bhabi –  here’s her post on the Mid-Day article
• A Girl From Foreign
• Gori Rajkumari – here’s her post on the press
• My Indian Love – here’s her post regarding her interview
• By Two Kaapi – here’s her post on the article
• Cyn’s Adventures in India

(click to enlarge)

My answers to the Sowmya’s questions ended up being insanely long, so read at your own risk! I’ve also linked to some relevant older posts for each question.

1) Your blog is wildly popular. What are the questions that readers in similar situations (intercultural relationships) ask most of you? What do you tell them?

The most common sort of question that I receive is about cross-cultural family difficulties – either the couple is trying to figure out the best way to “come clean” about their intercultural relationship to either the Western or the Indian family, or they have told the family and objections to the relationship are flying fast and thick. This doesn’t mean that most Indian families or Western families are prejudiced against intercultural relationships – it’s just that people in that sort of situation are more likely to come seeking advice and end up on my blog or forum.

My advice to these couples almost always boils down to three key points:

1. No (sane) parent wants their child to be unhappy. If parents or other family members are objecting to your relationship, it’s because they truly think that you (or the family as a whole) is better off without this intercultural-ness They’re probably wrong in their beliefs, but their intentions are almost always coming from a good place.
2. Try to figure out why there are objections – or if the family hasn’t been told yet, what sort of objections may arise. And then keep talking to the family about why your intercultural relationship is okay, despite what the family currently believes. Many of these objections arise from simple ignorance or misconceptions about the other culture – that Americans don’t care about family or respect their elders, that India is disease-filled land where everyone always has malaria or typhoid. Each person’s job is to help their family better understand the land their partner comes from – and about the specific values their partner holds too. Be a bridge to better understanding.
3. Remember that you’re an adult, and, ultimately, you’re responsible for your own choices and your own happiness. And the same goes for the rest of your family. I’ve heard about some sad situations where parents have issued an ultimatum: break up or you’re cut off from the family. That’s a horrible position to be placed in, but life doesn’t always give us easy options. I can understand choosing either way, but do recognize that it’s a choice that you’re making – just like it was your parents’ choice to make that ultimatum.

More on initial family issues and Aditya’s advice for intercultural relationships

2) What was the thought behind the blog? Why did you start it? What has the response been like?

I started the blog because my first efforts to find information about Indian culture or intercultural relationships wasn’t very fruitful. There wasn’t much out there on the web, and what did exist was mostly negative. This was very early on in my relationship with Aditya, and it got me both worried and a bit angry. Was my intercultural relationship doomed to fail? And why did all these stories seem to portray India and Indian families in the worst possible light? I knew from my own interactions with Aditya and his family that, while there can be problems and miscommunication, there are plenty of positive things too! So I decided to start blogging to provide a more balanced example of an intercultural relationship – a blog where people can come together to thoughtfully discuss both the ups and downs of being in an intercultural relationship, and work on solving any problems from a positive perspective.

Overall, I feel the response has been very wonderful! I’m very lucky in the thoughtful and dedicated readers and forum members I have. When people come to the blog with questions or problems, well, I’m only one person. I’ll offer my thoughts and advice on an issue, but someone else may have better experience with that problem, and be able to offer better advice. I’m always learning something new about India, intercultural relationships, or just relationships in general from my readers, and I love that.

More on being a “gori” and check out the forums!

3) What has been your most memorable ‘Indian’ experience since you got into this relationship? Why?

Well, I could point to my Hindu wedding in Calcutta – that was certainly a big, fun and very Indian event! But I think the most memorable experience is actually the first time my in-laws came to visit Aditya and me for a few months after we were married. This may seem a bit odd to your readers – after all, it’s pretty normal to have your family for extended visits in India. But for an American, having your in-laws – or any family members – stay with you for months at a time just to visit is very uncommon. American families can be as emotionally close as any Indian families, but we do like to have a bit more distance physically generally! So the experience of having Maa and Baba staying with us was very different, for me. I was a bit uncomfortable at first, since I just wasn’t used to any of it – having chai and biscuits to start the day, Indian food for most meals, coming home from work and finding a loud discussion taking place in Hindi or Bengali… As time went on, I became more comfortable, and now I look forward to their long visits quite a bit.

More on Maa and Baba’s initial visit and a more recent visit.

4) Can you give us a couple of anecdotes about marriage to an Indian man that people may not have read on the blog?

In February, Aditya and I went on our biennial trip to India – we split half our time with family, and half our time traveling around Rajasthan and northern India on our own. Now, my husband, like many Indians, is cricket-mad, so he was quite happy to learn that he could get text updates of the India – South Africa series underway while we were traveling around. See the sights AND follow the game – what more could he want?

Well, we were touring an amazing jewelery museum-cum-store in Agra. And while I’m oohing and ahhing over all pretty baubles, most of which are well over my budget, he takes out his phone, looks at his texts, and starts pacing. Before long, he tells me that we need to go – right now – to the hotel. So I’m pulled reluctantly away to our car – I hadn’t even made it to the second floor yet – and we speed off to the hotel. Once we get there, he tosses his passport at me, tells me to check in, and runs full throttle into the hotel, asking where the television is – because Sachin is at 182 and going strong. After checking in and managing our luggage in the strangely deserted lobby, I go in search of my errant husband.

It was a surreal scene. Aditya is at the bar in front of a big TV, still pacing, joined by five or six of the hotel staff, while the non-Indian hotel guests look on in confusion. The Indians are cursing at Dhoni for hitting sixes and fours while Sachin sits at 198. The hotel manager is sweating. And then Sachin gets his chance, and his 200 and all the Indians in the room are going crazy. And maybe I go a little crazy too. Cricket-fever is catching, after all, and Aditya’s been exposing me to the game for over seven years now.

At least he didn’t drag me out of the Taj Mahal.

More on our latest trip to India.

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My husband calls one of our dogs a lady kutta. He means it lovingly (mostly, anyways… I think), but I hadn’t realized exactly how accurate the descriptor was until I visited India a second time, after we had adopted her from the humane society here in the US. Kajol (our dog, not the actress) is exactly what you would get, both in looks and behavior, if you took a street dog from India, fed it well, and bathed it every once in a while. She is somewhat ill-mannered, responds to Bengali tongue-lashings by looking guilty, but never feels guilty for making a racket in the middle of the night, and delights in knocking over the trash to rummage through scraps. Despite being fed well.

Sometimes I feel bad for giving her the name “Kajol” – it is too dignified for a dog like her, despite the kohl markings around her eyes. “Gobi” was our initial choice, but Maa thought that no dog, however undignified, should be named after a vegetable (even one as tasty as gobi). So she’s Kajol. My undignified little street dog living a life of luxury.

More on Kajol and on Kajol and our second dog, Panda.

5) You have vehemently talked about how much you hate stereotypes on your blog. Still, a woman in a relationship like yours must have to deal with some amount of cultural stereotyping..both in India and abroad. What is that like and how do you deal with it?

I actually don’t mind stereotypes too much – if they come from uninformed strangers. If someone comes up to me and says, “Wow, you’re married to a Hindi person – he, like, prays to every cow he meets, right? That’s so weird!”, then I’ll be annoyed a bit, but I also see it as a teachable moment. Here’s someone who clearly doesn’t know much about Hinduism – I can get angry at his ignorance, or I can try to make it a productive interaction and have him walk away better informed and more respectful about a religion that has one billion adherents. The same thing can happen in India – like it or not, I’m often an ambassador for American culture while in India, since I’m the first American many people have spoken to. I can’t help the stereotypes that strangers have formed about Americans (often from Hollywood movies – which are not representative of American culture), but I can help dispel these stereotypes through both discussion and the way I interact with others day-to-day.

What I do mind is stereotypes that come from people who should know better – people who are in a position to inform themselves about a culture, but don’t. I firmly believe that if you’re married to an Indian, you have a responsibility to go beyond stereotypes in your understanding of Indian culture. The same goes for Indians in relationships with people from other cultures. And, of course, it’s important to remember that even if you’re married to an Indian, you’re only seeing one aspect of Indian culture. India is a diverse place, and it’s filled with lots of different subcultures – just like the US.

More on cultural stereotypes and learning to understand and accept cultural differences.

6) Can you tell us a little bit about yourself… What you do, how long you’ve been married, what your husband does?

I received my masters in economics in 2008 and have since been working as a consultant in energy markets. My work currently focuses on the regulation of pollutants produced by power plants in the United States, but I’ve worked on projects related to India’s energy markets as well. It’s very, very different work from writing a blog on intercultural relationships, but I enjoy the diversity! Aditya recently became the director of product management at a start-up in Silicon Valley, so we just shifted from Washington DC to San Jose, California. I’m originally from the area, and Aditya’s brother moved here from India a few years ago, so it’s been very nice to be near family again. We’ve actually been staying with his brother for the past few weeks while looking for a new house!

Aditya and I have been married for almost four years. We had a civil ceremony in the US, since I’m not religious, and then a Hindu wedding in India a year later, once Aditya’s green card was processed. We have two dogs, but aren’t quite ready for children. We do enjoy spoiling all of our nieces and nephews, though!

More on me and on being an atheist marrying into a Hindu family.

7) Where does Gori Girl go from here? Any plans to move to India? Where does the blog go from here?

We’re both open to the possibility of moving to India. If the right opportunity in India came along for either one of us, we’d certainly move, but right now we’re enjoying our lives and careers here in California. As far as the blog goes, I write when I have the free time – but there’s a lot going on in my life that cuts into writing time! Work, friends, family, and lots of hobbies – Aditya and I love to go backpacking and to travel generally. I’m also working on becoming more fluent in Hindi – learning a language takes up more time than you’d think.

As long as people are still interested in my writing, though, I’ll keep blogging. And if an opportunity comes along to write in another venue, I’d be open to that too.

More on learning Hindi and why I find it difficult.

8 ) Can you give us some tidbits about visiting India, and following some Indian customs… I absolutely loved your post about sindoor… It was witty and sweet at the same time. Some more stuff like that?

I am clumsy when it comes to cloth. I didn’t realize this for the first twenty-odd years of my life, because, really, in the US, unless you sew stuff, you don’t handle cloth (and I am assuredly not the sewing, home-making type; ask my in-laws about my cleaning ability sometime when you need to laugh). In causal California, you grab a pair of jeans, throw on a t-shirt, and you’re done. No thinking for the rest of the day, no worrying about how things drape. But traditional Indian clothes – the sari, the duppatta – Indian clothes are cloth. And my fingers have never needed to know how to pleat or wrap. My shoulders have never had to keep a scarf draping just right across my torso. And, for the love of all that is fashion, I have never, ever, needed to wear something on my head that wasn’t a baseball cap.

That all changed, of course, when I started dating Aditya – and, more specifically, when I started visiting India. In the US I can fit in well enough at an Indian function – as well as a white girl ever will – by wearing a nice pair of jeans (casual California, remember?) and a short or mid-length kurta. In India, I need to wear saris to some functions (like, say, my Bengali wedding), and a duppatta is strongly suggested while wearing salwar kameez, at least in rural areas. Worse, while touring Rajasthani holy sites on our last trip, I felt it was most appropriate (and often required) to use my duppatta has a head covering.

There are not words for how stupid I looked.

Now, I’m sure there are plenty of American women who look excellent wearing a scarf to cover their heads. I know I saw more than a few pulling off the look while I was in India. So it’s not something you must be born to in order to achieve success. But me? I look like someone tossed a duppatta on my head and then I managed to knot it up around my tangled hair while trying unsuccessfully to escape from this evil piece of cloth attempting to suffocate me. Which is, more or less, what occurred at every temple we stopped at. If I could breathe, see, and had 80% of my head covered, I considered it a moral victory, even while it was a fashion tragedy.

After my first visit to India, I promised myself that I would learn how to wear a sari without requiring five people’s help in pleating and pinning. I’ve more or less achieved that goal, although I still need Aditya to do a final straightening check on my pleats. My new goal, after our trip through Rajasthan, is to conquer covering my head with a scarf and not looking like I escaped from somewhere with padded walls.

I’ll let you know when I make any progress.

9) Have you visited India yet? What are your impressions of India and Indian people from everything you’ve seen, read and heard?

Yes, I’ve been to India twice, and spent about a month and a half total in the country. When I first visited India, I was completely overwhelmed. I think that’s a common response from Westerns visiting India for the first time, but I have the benefit of going to visit every couple of years for the rest of my life – I’ve got time to get over my overwhelmed-ness.

I love India. Not because of it’s rich historical heritage, although our trip around Rajasthan was the best traveling experience I’ve ever had. Not because of the food, although I could eat Indian food (from Goan curries to Bengali sweets) every day for the rest of my life and be happy. Nor do I love it for the colorful, spiritual, noisy, dusty, and frankly bewildering atmosphere which it seems all Westerners who love India gush about – although it is true that India has atmosphere in abundance.

No, I love India because it’s what “home” means to my husband. It’s the place where his family – where part of my family – lives. If I wasn’t married to an Indian, India would be an enjoyable place to travel – but there are many enjoyable places to travel in the world. India is special, because India is the place, for better or worse, that I’ve managed to marry myself to.

My most important post on India.

10) How hard was it to get both sets of parents around? Can you tell us a little bit about the early stages of the relationship..what it was like convincing people and adapting to a different culture?

I didn’t have time to address this question, since Aditya and I were moving – we’re thrilled to be back in Silicon Valley. However, I pointed Sowmya to my older post on meeting Aditya’s parents for the first time.

When we left off (oh so long ago) on the story of Aditya’s and my Hindu wedding in Part Six, I mentioned we had just finished performing the Laja Homa, in which puffed rice is offered as a sacrifice to the fire.

After the Laja Homa, Aditya and I sat down again to exchange our marriage vows. Now, um, this is a bit embarrassing but, you guys? I totally let down all Americans in this part of the ceremony. I kinda sorta gave the impression to all the guests that adult, well-educated Americans (as represented by yours truly) don’t know where the heart is located. You know, the whole “dumb Americans” stereotype in living color.

I can explain. Really.

You see, when I was saying my part of the vows, at one point, the priest asked me to lean over and place my hand on Aditya’s heart while saying them. I can’t exactly remember what I was promising at the time – although at one point in the ceremony, I think I promised to bear twelve sons, which is most certainly not happening. Anyways, I leaned over, but our sitting positions – and the stiffness of my sari – made it difficult to reach all the way across to the left side of Aditya’s chest.

And our sharp-eyed priest totally noticed I wasn’t quite at the right spot. And announced to the entire crowd of guests & family members that it appeared that the bride didn’t know where the heart was located.

Let my story be a warning to all couples getting married: it is always dangerous to hire a priest with a sense of humor who likes to tease.

So the crowd broke down in laughter, Aditya grinned, and I turned red and laughed too (’cause, yeah, it was pretty funny). Then I was flustered, and, um, went for the liver. Yup. Yup, I know. *shakes head* The crowd went wild again.

On the third try, I got it more or less right, and our priest took pity on me and let the ceremony continue:

Yeah, that was my big oops of the wedding. It’s still discussed at family get-togethers. Ah, good times…

So, we exchanged vows. They were the pretty standard Hindu vows – you can read examples here – but I couldn’t tell you exactly what they were at this date. Since we had an Arya Samaj wedding, all of our vows were first translated into English, so that Aditya and I could both understand what we were promising.

After the vows, we took the traditional seven steps around the fire – the Saptapadi.  Some Hindu traditions have seven circles around the fire, rather than seven steps, and the exact symbolism behind each step also differs from one version to the next. At our wedding, the priest recited the Arya Samaj meanings (which I really like) as we took each step:

• First Step is for Isha – nourishment – for fulfillment of the material needs of their family and for prosperity.
• Second Step is for Urje – strength – to develop physical, mental and spiritual strength.
• Third Step is for Rayasposha – honest wealth – to acquire wealth by diligent and righteous means and to spend it wisely.
• Fourth Step is Mayobhav – health – to develop harmonious relationship and be happy.
• Fifth Step is for Praja – progeny – to excel in raising strong and virtuous children.
• Sixth Step is for Ritu – good luck – for togetherness in all times and compatibility.
• Seventh Step is for Sakha – friendship – to be dependable and faithful to each other and life long companionship.

(I think those translations are correct.)

And thus, Aditya and I were married in the Hindu tradition.

After that, I was given the traditional symbols of marriage. First, Adtiya applied sindoor – i.e. vermilion powder – to the part in my hair. (I’ve blogged about wearing sindoor before here). Aditya has shaky hands, but managed to not get the red powder all over my forehead.

Then I was given a golden bangle, called a loha, which married women in Bengali families wear. Traditionally they’re made of iron, but today they’re more often covered in gold or completely made of gold, like mine.

While Aditya was putting the loha on, I noticed all of the younger guests were stealthily moving from where they had been previously standing to an area closer to the mandap (raised platform) where we were. It looked… suspicious. I wasn’t sure what was up, but the grins didn’t look promising.

Apparently, at the end of a Hindu wedding, the guests throw flower petals, not rice, on the happy couple. Except that flower buds can be thrown much more effectively than flower petals, and sting on arrival. And Aditya was due for some payback from previous weddings where he had pelted the bride and groom. Aditya’s played cricket with his cousins – he knew to duck. I didn’t:

I was just the poor, innocent bystander, brutally attacked with carnations.

And that was the end of our Hindu wedding ceremony. Afterwards, we had a sumptuous dinner with our guests, then headed back home for the after-party. Where I cleaned up a bit, removed the bindis from my face (with a bit of help), and then promptly fell asleep, still jet-lagged. But, luckily, not before I witnessed this:

The End.

Photo Credit: Kevin N. Murphy

Without doubt this blog has been far more successful than I ever imagined it could be when I started it. Today, just a little over 18 months since I started writing at Gori Girl, we passed the mark of over two thousand comments written here by individuals other than Aditya & I. Two thousand comments, most of which have been detailed, thoughtful contributions to the post I’ve written. I hope you guys understand how thankful I am for your participation here – the discussions and, yes, disagreements have contributed much to my thoughts on things intercultural and India.

Appropriately enough, a post by Normis in the forums yesterday reminded me that we never got around to holding a “Gori Girl” meet-up for everyone in the Mid-Atlantic region (of the US – i.e. near Washington D.C.) this past summer. (What can I say? Summer is always a busy time for us.) So – who’s interested in hanging out somewhere in the DC or NoVA area? I promise you can mock my Hindi pronunciation. *grin* More details below the fold.

When: We’re thinking the first weekend in December – either December 5th or 6th. But I’m open to suggestions if that weekend is particularly bad for the majority of people who are interested in coming.

Where: This would depend on how many people are interested in coming, where they’re traveling from, and how many (if any) are Metro-dependent. I’m thinking either a large coffee shop (a Cosi’s, perhaps?) or a low-key restaurant where people can come and go at their leisure. Suggestions appreciated, if anyone has a good idea.

Who: Anyone who’s in the area and reading this is welcome. Don’t feel like you can’t come if you’re not in an intercultural relationship or any garbage like that. Bring friends if you think they’d be interested in chillin’ with the two coolest people in all of the DC Metro Area. (‘Cause, you know, Aditya and I super-cool. I mean, as I write this, I’m watching MythBusters while studying Hindi flashcards and rubbing the dog’s belly with my foot. If that’s not the epitome of cool, I don’t know what is.)

Let me know in the comments if you’re in!

Added: Aditya and I (and some friends) will be at this weekend’s BollyB!end 2 in Siliver Spring, if anyone in the area is planning on going.

Ah, Diwali. Festival of lights. A celebration of good triumphing over evil. A time to bemuse your boss and win free dessert from your local Indian buffet. …right?

As I’ve mentioned previously, I happen to work in a very diverse office – and with a recent switch in teams, I now report to a South Indian manager. He’s a great boss, but, occasionally, well, I can’t help myself – I’ll mention a Hindu tradition or a Bollywood film just to see his reaction. You see, despite the fact that he knows I’m married to an Indian, he’s always so surprised when I show any knowledge of Indian culture. Shocked, almost.

So, of course, to celebrate Diwali this year I decided to wear a sari to work.

To be more specific, a female Indian coworker and I  coerced convinced the junior staff on our team to wear Indian dress to the office on Friday. My coworker had one sari from a family wedding to wear, and I loaned out saris and kurtas to everyone else. Between the two of us, we were able to get everyone wrapped up, pinned up, and decked out in bangles before our boss arrived. The look on his face was, let us say, well worth the trouble.

I'm on the right

Everyone looked pretty great in their saris, no?

For lunch, the group went out to the closest Indian buffet, Jaipur, where we snapped the photograph above. The staff there was also quite surprised seeing their regular customers arrive in saris and kurtas – surprised & appreciative.  Despite the fact that it was a buffet lunch, they brought out a surprise dish of Indian desserts just for our group at the end of our meal:

It was clear that the kitchen had taken some time to create the dish, which featured Gajar Ka Halwa, Ras Gulla, and Gulab Jamun with a garnish of shredded coconut and cherries. Like every other Indian dessert I have had, it was delicious, if extraordinarily sweet. After lunch we all shuffled back to the office before falling into the typical post-Jaipur sugar coma.

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For anyone wondering, on Diwali proper (i.e. Saturday), Aditya, myself, and the Indian coworker pictured above woke up crazy early to get to a local Hindu temple in time for the morning aarti. It was very quiet there – I think the rain and near-freezing temperatures kept everyone else away. Afterwards we retreated from the cold to Starbucks for breakfast, and then, in the spirit of combining American holiday consumerism with a Diwali custom, we went shopping for some new clothes. And that was how the Gori Girl household celebrated Diwali this year.

(Sunday we returned to my roots, and celebrated an American football Sunday with Vietnamese seafood hotpot and German boardgames at a friend’s house. All in all, a pretty awesome weekend.)

Photo Credit: vm2827

The tickets have been purchased. We’re headed to India for a three week vacation/business trip in February and March of next year.

And man, does my Hindi suck.

Longtime readers may be scratching their head, thinking they’ve heard this song & dance about learning an Indian language from me before. They’d be absolutely, totally correct.  Last year, however, I was trying to learn Bengali. And I have – some. Not much; mainly, I can play cards in Bengali. And curse. (Sometimes I get to do both at once!)

This year it’s all about the Hindi. With a trip to Delhi and North India in sight, Aditya and I have both agreed that I need to focus more on learning Hindi. There’s the functional aspects to knowing enough to get around town and communicate when Aditya isn’t right at my side. Then there’s the social aspect of extended family, friends, and (in my case) Delhi coworkers. At our Indian wedding two years ago I could get away with saying “a little” in the appropriate language when asked if I knew  either Hindi or Bengali. Guests and family loved it then, but I suspect the joke does not age well.

What’s the problem? Well, like most humans, I lack self-control. Specifically, I lack the ability to correctly choose “studying” in the moment, when I’m faced with either doing my Hindi lessons or watching the awesome new Project Runway episode.  Luckily, economists have studied this problem in-depth (see Nobel Laureate Schelling’s amazing lecture, for instance (pdf)) – and have arrived at a pretty useful solution: create a commitment device that really hurts when you deviate from what you should be doing.

The most common commitment devices require you to sign a binding contract to give up a lot of money (often to a cause or person you don’t like) when you fail to do what you ought. However, given our combined income, it seemed a bit unfair to me that Aditya suffer along. If I fail, not only does he lose money, but he also has a non-Hindi-speaking spouse!

So instead, I thought of you guys. Wouldn’t I look like such a hypocritical chump if I publicly announced my exact plans to learn Hindi on my intercultural blog – and then failed to live up to that promise? And had to announce that to all my col blog readers?

Thus, we have…

The Hindi Project

Here’s the deal: I’ve promised Aditya three days per week of at least an hour’s study, and another three days of at least 30 minutes, kicking off next week. To stay accountable to this heavy workload, I’ll be writing in the forums here everyday on my Hindi progress. I’ll also be updating this blog weekly on my progress – most likely with some humorous story about how I accidentally insulted Aditya’s mom on the phone.

Moreover, I’d love to have you participate in this project too! If there’s something you’re working on -  learning your partner’s language, cooking new dishes, or even something not at all interculturally-related – and you’d like to have some public accountability to get your butt in action, then it’d be great to have you join me. Misery-shared and all that, right? (Or, to think positively, let’s share tips on keeping motivated!)

Everyone else: keep me accountable, and have an awesome Diwali weekend! I’ll post pictures of coworkers and myself in the saris we wore to the office soon.

Photo Credit: Hamed Saber

A phone conversation from last night:

Aditya: Hey, guess what came in the mail today?

GG, at the office, as always: How are you home already? Don’t you work? … And, yeah, so what came in the mail?

Aditya: News from the Department of Homeland Security.

GG: Have they scheduled our follow-up green card interview, then?

Aditya: Better – they approved me right away! I’m now a permanent Permanent Resident.

GG: Wait, they can waive the two-year review interview? Sweet! Do you think the fact that we sent in not one but two dog adoption contracts pushed us over the edge into not needing another interview? Or was it the printout of the front page of gorigirl.com?

Aditya: I think it was the detailed timeline of our relationship I wrote up, and maybe the fact that we own a house and two cars together. Also: I can now divorce you freely. Be nice to me.

GG: Oh, frack you. And please have dinner ready by the time I get home.

*click*

For anyone interested, our (well, Aditya’s) immigration timeline can be found here. We may have had the easiest green card experience in the history of US immigration. Ever.

(Also, for any immigration officers reading along at home, Aditya does not plan to divorce me now that his green card is secured. I think. Please still send us an updated green card, preferably with Obama’s profile included in the Presidential lineup.)

This is Part Six of a continuing series on my Indian wedding adventure. If you’re new to Gori Girl, try checking out Part One, where the story starts.

After we started the fire (think Agni Pradipan, not Billy Joel), I fed Aditya some pre-made Laddu, which is a common Indian sweet used in pujas and other ceremonies. After this Aditya stood up and promised to provide for me for the rest of my life, so, really, I didn’t begrudge him the sweet. (Also: it was way too hot to do much but sweat beside that fire. Doesn’t look like it? Read on.)

To stay hydrated in the face of the fire (or, you know, for religious religions) we were both given some water from the Ganges to drink. From our cupped hands. This may have been the only water I drank during my entire time in India that was not personally verified by Aditya or another family member as safe for my oh-so-delicate American stomach. For the record, by the way, despite a complete lack of regard on my part, I never had the slightest stomach ache while in India.

After drinking the Ganges water – most of which ended dribbled onto my sari – the whole marriage “team” started to work to get the fire roaring. The younger priest – the one who wasn’t reciting Vedic hymns to music throughout – placed pieces of kindling into the fire. Maa, Baba, and my uncle tossed in mixtures of herbs in time to the drum beat. (Uncle Mark took a few minutes to get the beat properly.) Aditya and I spooned in oil from special spoons, held in a special manner. It was all very serious, of course. Well, except for the fact that Baba appeared to be aiming his herbal throws to cover our special spoons. And Aditya kept knocking his spoon into mine in (he says) an effort to dislodge the herbs covering his spoon – I suspect he was just being a brat. The end result, of course was predictable:

It got really hot and the fire got really high. And my flowers wilted. Which made me pout. Also, people were continuing to look at me, which will make any introvert pout. Then I remembered that it was my wedding and I got to play with fire! And life suddenly seemed better.

The majority of the wedding ceremony, as I recall, was playing with fire. As I mentioned earlier, as we fed the fire our Arya Samaj head priest recited Vedic hymns. Because the Araya Samajis believe that you should know what you’re promising, every part was first paraphrased by the priest in English (Maa & Baba hunted high & low for an English-speaking priest for me) before being recited in Sanskrit. The offerings we made were meant to symbolize our joint responsibility – along with that of our families’ – to maintain the love, duty, and dignity of the marriage.

After the fire was good and roaring, Aditya’s brother, Dada, stepped in to help us pour an offering of puffed rice into the fire. Traditionally this would be done by the brother or brother-cousin of the bride, but my brother was unable to make the trip to India.

In case you were wondering, the fire at the center of the Hindu wedding ritual is considered a god in and of itself – Lord Agni, God of Fire. Agni, for Arya Samjis, serves to dispel darkness and ignorance while brining light and knowledge.

After pouring the puffed rice (three times), we were on to the final – and most important stages of the wedding: the vows and steps around the fire. Which is where I made my largest mistake of the entire wedding…

Part Seven – the final post on my Indian Wedding – can be found here.

Aditya: So what is that story that you were telling, of when Baba came to meet you?

Baba: That was our semi-arranged marriage!

Maa: Semi? Why “semi”? Absolutely arranged!

Baba: I saw her, and then I said okay. It was not arranged. So semi.

Maa: They put an advertisement in paper, that their son is not getting married for last ten years, they’re searching for daughter-in-law.

Baba: And my in-laws had a daughter who was not being married for ten years, said, “Okay, this is a right match!”

Maa: So, when they came, they didn’t tell me… Maybe my parents knew it, but I didn’t know that they were coming. So it was Sunday, and I had lot of hair… The whole week I had to go to college, so I didn’t wash my hair properly, because in India you can’t go with, uh, hair loose, you have to tie it up. Nowadays everything is gone, but that time it was there. So Sunday is my oil massaging day. So from top to bottom I used to apply oil.

Aditya: And Maa’s hair was down to her knees almost.

Maa: So, they came at three o’clock. And I took bath at twelve o’clock, I think. And I didn’t do shampoo also. And you can just imagine…

Baba: You know, that is why I got married to her, just because of her hair. Because I could not see anything else [to judge]!

<laughter>

Maa: And in India, when some girl is to, uh, be presented to her in-laws, they put on a lot of makeup, good saris, jewelry. But I was wearing a cotton sari, normal, because I didn’t know that they were coming. And my sister-in-laws, all, my parents, couldn’t [dress me up], because I am very strict about that. What I am, I am, there’s no makeup or something. And, I used to wear a bangle on my right hand. On my left hand, I used to wear a watch, a wrist-watch. I was at home, so I didn’t wear that also. And I met him like that!

GG: So, after you both met, did you discuss anything with each other?

Baba: Oh, yeah, we had a talk, between us. But I don’t think that it was, uh, like an examination. We just discussed what I feel, what did she feel that particular day? That’s all.

Maa: And then for food, at the restaurant, I didn’t take it. Because my mother told me, don’t go with anybody in the restaurant. So he was asking, “Are you hungry?” “No,” [I said].

Baba: So I sat down, I ate.

Maa: And he ate. When we came back to our home, from [movie] picture, I was telling my mother, “Give me some food, I am very hungry!” And he says, “Why didn’t you take?!” But how could I explain to him at that time?

Baba: That was my golden era.

I cannot imagine participating in the process of an arranged marriage – not that I think that they’re necessarily bad, but I just can’t picture what it would be like. Maa & Baba’s story of their first meeting was, therefore, quite enlightening as to some of the particulars. It all strikes me as something out of a Jane Austin novel.

GG: Okay, next question!

Baba: This is off the syllabus?

GG: Yes! So, did Aditya discuss marrying me with you?

Maa: Actually, I told him, you ought to get married. If you want to stay together, you ought to get married. That I told him.

Aditya: I mean, it was a variety of things. I think it started… I mean, obviously, after graduating, I moved to California, and I was looking for housing. We talked about it. And obviously I asked before I proposed to GG.

Maa: He didn’t ask, we discussed.

Aditya: Yeah, we discussed, it was more like that.

Maa: I said, if you want to be with her, then get married. You take the responsibility.

The idea of “responsibility” being a key part of a marriage is something I’m still noodling over. I’ll admit I’ve never thought of it in exactly those terms.

GG: Did your expectations of what you expect for a daughter-in-law change after Aditya said he was marrying me?

Aditya: What I think she is asking is, would you have different expectations if she was Indian?

Baba: No. And that should be in block capitals! Because I told you, my expectations for my daughter-in-law is the same whether it is Bhabi, Punjabi, or GG, American.

Bhabi is Aditya’s sister-in-law, i.e. Baba’s other daughter-in-law, for those just tuning in.

GG: So, what would you say was something I did that impressed you early on?

Maa: Everything.

Aditya: I think they spoke the highest of your card-playing ability.

GG: Card-playing?

Maa: Yeah, card-playing…

Baba: Not card-playing ability, the way you picked up the game. You know, pick-up is more important for playing the game. If your pick up is good, whether it is cards or studies, that is a quality, and of course, which I feel did impress on the first day.

Like Aditya, I come from a family where playing cards is a key part of family bonding. Aditya’s family’s game is Twenty-Nine, while my family plays a house version of Rummy and Oh Hell. Being decent at cards in both of our families – or at least enjoying playing cards – is a pretty important trait.

Maa: Even when we came back from the cabin, you cooked for us, a nice —

Baba: No, that was afterwards, but, my point is, the first day.

Maa: But, that time, they were not even engaged. So I liked it very much.

I made a spicy spagetti with chicken sausage (since Maa & Baba don’t eat beef or pork), a simple salad, and some out-of-the-box cake for the family at Aditya’s brother’s house while they were off on a day trip – really the meal was nothing special or complicated. I think Maa might have been secretly afraid that the rumors of Americans were true, and I couldn’t cook a thing.

Aditya: What about Bear?

GG: My dad’s dog.

Maa: Oh, very sweet, very nice.

Aditya: Baba was taking pictures all evening of Bear, there were more pictures of Bear than of GG.

Maa: I liked your mother, your grandmother… And I was very much impressed by you.

Maa met my materal grandmother while I was back in the Midwest, attending college. Granmama is a French-Candian immigrant, altho she’s lived in the US for most of her life.

GG: Anything I did that surprised you, or maybe somewhat negative? Something you thought was kind of odd?

Baba: Actually, should I tell you? Yes, I’m not so critical in little things. If otherwise it is acceptable, it is okay.

Maa: Yes, everybody has some problems.

Baba: If everybody is happy, I feel that it’s good enough. I don’t see things so critical.

GG: Okay, so, now, Aditya & I are married… What is the hardest part about having a non-Bengali, or non-Indian daughter-in-law?

Maa: From my side, the only difficulty is to express myself.

Baba: The language.

Maa: The language. The hardest thing. Nothing else.

Aditya: (sarcastically) GG has been working hard on her Hindi.

I think I have a mental block against learning languages. I’m still struggling to keep a schedule of regular studying – but hearing this was a big motivator.

Baba: I don’t… Whether you are GG, or someone else, it would have not have made much of difference if that person were the same as GG. Because I don’t, uh, everybody has some shortcoming, some strong points. So if I forget about the rest of the things, only see the small shortcomings here or there, mentally I will not be happy. And I do not want to be unhappy.

GG: But is there any difficulty you see, maybe in customs I don’t know, or…

Maa: Even I don’t know a lot of customs. So I don’t care for that.

GG: Or my family doesn’t have the same expectations that an Indian family would…

Maa: How would I know, how do we know what your family expectations? We don’t know…

Baba: One thing I know, GG, that I have got my own way of looking at things. I can lead my life in that lane/line/road – whatever you want to call it, but I cannot make others follow it. Therefore, yes, often things happen even between me and Maa, where we think differently, we argue, feel bad. Maa stops talking, I stop talking, but that is for only a few hours. Because we know that this has to be there, because [we are] two persons.

Similarly, if I am very critical to anybody, it is making an unhappy relation, and no one is happy by doing so. It is better if we can enjoy each other’s company, which is good, overlook the shortcomings, the things that we don’t like. If I know that GG does not like something, I would like to avoid those things as much as possible. I have not vacuumed your bedroom, because I have felt that you would not like disturbed whatever arrangement or, uh, disarrangement…

<general laughter>

…that you have got. It is something like that, I have avoided it. But had it been my world, anybody could have done it for me and I would be happy. It is something like that. I try to avoid, don’t see things, which I feel may cause a bit of uneasiness between two persons.

GG: Is there anything that has been a positive, an unexpected thing that you’ve learned or experienced from having an American daughter-in-law?

Baba: Should I say now, one-to-one? Ready? Sure? I had the impression that Americans are generally very clean …that they keep things in order. But here, I have found…

And the truth comes out! This was the only critical thing I could get Maa & Baba to admit.

GG: It’s as much your son as me!

Aditya: GG, don’t even go there. You know, Thalith used to be our roommate, first when the three of us lived together, and then Thalith, GG, Ivan, and Claudia [lived together]. Thalith always used to make fun of us because the house was dirty and he used to blame me. But after I graduated, and he lived just with her, then he realized that what he actually saw there was her mess minus my cleaning up. You know, I visited GG twice, surprised her by arriving there before she expected me to be there. And the first day that I got there GG was sitting on the bed. And to get on the bed you could only put one step on the ground from the door. So you had to make a hop on one foot towards the bed, and then from that foot – you didn’t have space to put down the second foot – you had to hop off of that foot straight onto the bed. So everything you see is, always remember, that is GG minus my cleaning. Don’t say that it’s equally my fault.

While it is true that my college apartment room was that messy (I was working on my senior thesis!), it is complete falsehood that Aditya is a net benefit in the cleaning  department; during the same time period Aditya’s studio in California was nearly as messy. Really, we’re just messy (and busy) people.

Maa: What to say…

GG: It’s okay to say unflattering things. Whatever is on your mind.

Maa: Actually, I love you very much, all qualities, but the only thing, I can’t tolerate this much of untidiness. No, I think that, uh, you are since your childhood away from your mother, maybe that has affected you. Because only a mother can teach a daughter…

GG: My mother is also very messy.

Maa: Maybe, maybe because of that.

Maa: What you will do, please, you [GG] do the dusting and cleaning, let him do the vacuuming. Yes, do it together. That way you will enjoy it. Otherwise you’re doing it here, he’s doing it there. When Aditya told me that last time that Amy [the basement tenant] was here, that after Amy left, we’ll do the basement as the TV room or something like that. How is it possible that somebody is playing there, she’s playing here in her computer? This is not right. Whenever you’ll be at home, stay together. That is the first thing between husband and wife. You’ll see that in our house also, wherever Baba is I try to be, yes, because I don’t get to …

Baba: You see, when I want to avoid her, she’s always there! … Have you gone to church? Have you seen a dirty church?

GG: I don’t go to church.. I’ve only been a few times when I was little.

Baba: Okay, the ten times you’ve gone to church in your life, have you ever seen a dirty, stinking church?

GG: No…

Baba: Why? Cleanliness is next to godliness! And it is your house. You want that, you know, welcoming look. A house that is messy cannot be a happy house.

Point. Aditya and I really do need to stop living like we’re still in college.

GG: Okay, last two questions. Is there any advice that you would give to an American, or another Westerner who is dating an Indian, and is worried maybe that the parents won’t approve or anything like that?

Maa: Yes. There is something. Like [in] India, we are naturally very family-oriented. It is in our, uhh, in our heritage. But in Western country, people are so advanced, so educated, so independent, that sometimes, they feel, that…

Baba: They become islands.

Maa: Yes, they become islands. The space, their conception of personal space makes them very lonely, gradually. Everybody has some defects, some shortcomings – that is a girl also and a boy. Don’t look at the shortcomings. If you like somebody, if you love somebody, try to, both of, try to compromise on some points. If you can give only will you have something. Always if you – uh, not you, I mean general you – that giving away is much better than taking away.

Baba: No, actually, her question was actually if an Indian boy or a girl is dating an American boy or girl, what advice would be given to them. That is what she asked.

Maa: That is the advice! You have to give something to take something!

Baba: No, no, no… That you are talking about harmony in married life or in relationship. I would say that if they are dating an Indian boy, don’t just go by the boy. Unless he has decided to get out of the family altogether – cut off, I mean – not that [he is] in touch with them, they come and go… Otherwise, the boy should make it clear exactly how his parents or her parents would react to such a decision.

Like, you two are very nice. When you come to India, we [could have] decided no, you have to be like Indian girl, you have to put on a lot of oil, get up early in the morning, five o’clock, take a bath, go to temple, do puja, come back, then you go to the kitchen, cook food.

Maa: That type of family is still there in India.

Baba: A lot of them! The ones that – I have been reading your blog – most of the people they have got that type of problem when they go abroad, to their in-laws place. Therefore, it must be absolutely clear in mind [of the couple] what the expectations [are] at the other end. And if it is so, they should not go to India at all. Because a lot of disharmony would be created on such visits. And as far as we are concerned, as I told you, we are much more liberal, we know and we have got faith on our children, and things are different. I don’t think that one can, uh, judge parents just by seeing our family.

Maa: Even uh, Indian girls get lots of problems.

Baba: Indian girls get problems at their in-laws place because the culture, the practices are different.

GG: Would you suggest for a couple in that situation, that they just go along with the parents, or they say “no, we aren’t going to do that. She will not be getting up at five am”? Or some sort of compromise?

Baba: No, no, I would say if they’re going to live in US they should live like in US. They cannot live in US as [in] India. If you are going to live in India, live like India[ns]. You should not change your lifestyle because you are in a different country [for a short visit], you better live the style of the country [that] you live in.

GG: Anything else you want to share?

Maa: No, I told you that space is very…

Baba: Space should not make–

Maa: Make a man lonely.

Baba: No. That should not, I would say, divide a couple.

Aditya: I think it’s all about, when it comes to intercultural relationships, or really any relationship, it’s all about setting expectations. Like you should never get to the point where there is, like… In most Indian families parents are part of the married family. And you should never get to the point where those stakeholders are not on the same page.

Baba: That’s what I’m saying. And once – often courtship, like salesmanship – often the boy or the girl will tell little bit of half-truth. They will tell the facts just to impress, or hide things that maybe one [will] realize when you go to India. So that should be quite clear, how it is like at the other end. Like earlier, people used to get married, not to Americans, but a lot of people used to get married to the European girls, mainly British. And most of these people are sufficiently moneyed, but they were not like Rajas. But they used to give the impression that they were like small Rajas. And after the wedding they used to go, they used to find that things are not like what they heard during their courtship, and they had a lot of trouble during those days. The same way that I feel that one should be quite truthful, and put both sides on the right side of the picture, and then decide.

Maa: And husband and wife relationship should very, very based on honesty.

And that was the end of the interview.

I sat down with Aditya’s parents, Maa and Baba, a few nights ago with a list of eight questions to find out their views on American culture and intercultural relationships… and we ended up talking for over an hour, thus necessitating a Part One and a Part Two. Today’s portion focuses on the early days: their worries on sending their youngest son, Aditya, to a foreign country, thoughts on American culture, dating, and their first interactions with me. Technical details: I transcribed the interview from a sound recording, and have only edited (in square brackets) for clarity or in keeping with Maa & Baba’s wishes for certain things to be “off the record”. My comments and notes post-transcription are in red.

GG: What were your concerns when Aditya came to the US to study?

Maa: Whether he’ll be able to cope with everything; [I was] concerned with his studies. And we didn’t have that much of money to support him, so whether he would be able to support himself.

Baba: Firstly, the financial part. Secondly, he had never lived away from home – this was the first time he’d be living away from home. Thirdly, it was a strange country for him, the surroundings, the education system, language, food, everything was different! And I knew that he would be able to cope with the things, but I had doubted how easily he’d be able to cope up with it.

Aditya was the first member of his family to travel to the US. Maa and Baba first came to visit after his older brother, Dada, also moved to the US, about half way through Aditya’s college career.

GG: Do you remember what you guys thought of the US then? What your impressions, your ideas of it were?

Baba: Actually, as far as I am concerned, when I came to the US, I was more or less not surprised. I knew the US quite a lot – from movies, from books that I have studied, and I expected it to be more or less like this. The only thing is that I did not expect the US to be so huge as a country.

Maa: Actually, when I came for the first time, my whole concern was for Aditya.  So I was not interested in how the US was – [I] only wanted to know how he was.

GG: Did you have any worries about Aditya being at a US university, meeting Americans, maybe dating or falling in love with one of them or anything like that?

Maa: No, I didn’t have any concerns.

GG: Did you think he would date Americans when he came to the US?

Baba: No, I never thought that was an issue. If I liked someone at the right time, right age, I always said yes. Of course, I had certain reservations, and that has not happened.

*waggles eyebrows at Baba’s phrasing*

GG: What reservations?

Baba: That is off the record.

<Aditya laughs>

For the record, I still haven’t heard what the reservations were.

GG: Were you aware of his social activities when he was at the university?

Baba: Yes, he used to write, sometimes spoke to his mother… not to me. From what I could gather, I figured I had a fairly good idea of his activities. Of course, some of it was my imagination…

Maa: Nah, I knew only the portion that he used to tell us. But I [only] know half of it.

GG: So you knew that he had… (to Aditya) how many girlfriends was it?

Aditya: I told them…

Eight girlfriends his first year, I believe, (EIGHT!) and he tossed them all in two weeks or less. Shameless.

Baba: Yeah, he had many [girlfriends] in Delhi also…

Maa: Actually, we are not very much, uh, concerned with children’s girlfriends or boyfriends.

Baba: As long as you are not doing anything wrong, if your aim, your studies are going properly, I think that there is nothing wrong in having girlfriends. How you take that relation matters… Like, I had in India at one time I knew a lot of girls – and of course, my parents were also very liberal. Even today, if I meet them, if I get a chance to meet them, there’s nothing wrong in this, I always felt. Yes, if somebody has some bad intention, that is different. For that…

Maa: Nah, it is very natural. There is nothing to worry about. If I know my children, they will choose the right thing.

Baba: No, as long as a child knows what is right or wrong, there is no need for the parent to worry. And I, at least, have the confidence in my children; they can recognize right.

Maa: And in that way my impression of Aditya is very high.

Baba: That every mother has!

Maa: Nah, he’s a moralist type.

Baba: Yes, he’s a moralist type.

I suspect – but do not know one way or another for sure – that the attitude that Maa & Baba express here is pretty unusual for mainstream Indian culture. Heck, I suspect it’s pretty unusual for the majority of American parents of teenagers too. Anyways, with the basics of Maa & Baba’s views on dating established, we now changed tacks to start discussing Aditya’s relationship with me, which was more serious than those with previous girlfriends (i.e. I lasted more than two weeks).

GG: Do you remember when he told you he was dating me? Do you remember what he said?

Baba: Yes.

Maa: Yes. When you two had some difference of opinion, and I told him that this girl is a … in our language, Saraswati, it means goddess of learning – she looks like that.

Aditya: This was when we were broken up.

Baba: Maa said that you better make up!

You can read my take on first meeting Aditya’s parents here. In short, when I first met Maa, Aditya and I had downgraded our relationship to “an icy friendship” due to quarreling too much.

Aditya: By the way, the only reason that Baba and I didn’t talk over the phone while I was at the university was because Baba telephone conversations are always telegraphic.

<general laughter >

The first question he asks you is “How are you?”, and by the time you have said, “I’m good” the conversation is over and the phone has been hung up.

Maa: [He’s like that] with everybody.

Yes, yes he is.

Aditya: Yes, with everybody. When we were growing up… I mean, I don’t even know how common telephones were when they were growing up. When we were growing up, Baba used to be away, you know, and we had to do trunk calls. And in the middle of the night, it’d be super expensive, and Maa would be running down the stairs at 11:30 pm, because, you know, there’s a trunk call with Baba.

For Americans or others scratching their heads, a trunk call is the British English (and, apparently, Indian English) word for a long-distance call, especially one routed by a real, live operator.

GG: So what were your expectations for a daughter-in-law? Before you knew about me or anything – just general expectations.

Maa: I want only the good relationship and to look after my children – daughter-in-law or son-in-law. Look after my children, and a good relationship with us. Nothing else.

For the following anecdote, Bhabi is Aditya’s sister-in-law, Dada is his older brother, and Didi is his older sister.

Baba: You see, before Bhabi’s marriage [to Dada]… Bhabi was in school, Dada was in hostel, they had not met each other. They were in class 7 or 8. And she was learning some dance in Calcutta. She came to our house because Didi was in the same class – Bhabi had missed some classes, and she came to make up those missed classes. I was working away from Calcutta, and I used to come [home] during the weekends. I came… it was a duplex, our house was. I was climbing the stairs and I saw Bhabi. And when she came, I said, “Who is this girl?” And Maa said, “Didi’s dance mate.” And I said, “I would like to get a girl like that as daughter-in-law [for Dada]”… By God’s grace, that has happened. Of course it happened after…
<argument starts over how long >
Five, six years, let us say. So after that, I always expected that Aditya’s wife would be something like Bhabi. In all respects.

GG: Punjabi?

Baba: No, not Punjabi. I don’t look at Bhabi as Punjabi. See, this language or religion – I feel everything is the same. So I don’t look at a Punjabi or American or European… My thing is – “similar” means – she should be intelligent, sharing, and good in studies, plus she should be something where we are comfortable, my son is comfortable, and she should be someone who gets into a relation[ship] for lifelong.

Because there are a lot of cases I have found where people don’t – the girls or the boys – don’t think beyond certain time: four years, five years, ten years. But I always felt that my children should get a partner for the whole life. Not part time or, I would say, “live together” type. That is the type of girl I expected. She should be presentable, so that people don’t say – don’t take it – that she doesn’t fit into the family. I feel that that is a bigger thing, because I still feel family is much bigger than self. And that was what [were] my expectations, and I feel that I am quite happy on that one respect. The rest of the things, small things, would be different between individuals. Those better to not be discussed, because everyone has their own way of looking at things. But my general expectations for my daughter-in-law or son-in-law were the same. It is not that [the expectations] for daughter-in-law different [from] son-in-law.

While I suspect that Baba cares a bit more for what others think than I do, I must admit I was quite pleased with his perspective on this – I really couldn’t ask for a more considerate and reasonable set of expectations.

GG: What do you remember Aditya telling you about me before you met me? Like on the phone.

Baba: He didn’t tell me anything!

GG: Aditya, is this true?

Aditya: Because Baba’s phone calls are so short!

Baba: That has already been said. Whatever he said –

GG: But he went back to India one summer.

Baba: That is true, but Aditya is very close to – my children are all more close to – Maa for such things, for such topics. So they always spoke to her, and she only told me that much that was…

Maa: Screened!

<general laughter>

Baba: Yeah, little bit. I always got a filtered version.

GG: Okay, Maa, what do you remember Aditya telling you about me?

Maa: In 2006 when he came, he told me. And I told him it is okay, make your studies properly, and then you can do whatever you feel like, I don’t mind. And what else…?

Aditya: Nah, we talked about it when I was in Madras, right?

Maa: So long time back… That time I [hadn’t yet met] her, right? So I told [him] that I did not know what type of girl she is. I was not very keen… Hmmm… I am very scared that time, because he should complete his studies and things. Because in our [country], in India, a girl or boy’s future is very… We are very concerned about their future. All parents [are this way]. So I was a little scared that he may not—

Baba: – do well in his exams or things like that.

GG: Is there anything you wish Aditya had told, that might have helped your fears more or your concerns?

<general confusion over the meaning of the question>

Okay, before you met me, maybe you had some concerns… Was there anything that Aditya could have told you, that could have helped those concerns?

Baba: No, I don’t think with me [there were any concerns].

Maa: Yeah, I was concerned. Because he told [me] that you have some health problem. So I was concerned if it was very serious type. I don’t know anything. So I thought that health problem was very very… <worried hand gesture>.

I have a genetic blood-clotting disorder – which I only found out my freshman year while dating Aditya – which will be a lifelong concern, although it is perfectly managable with a little daily medication and awareness. At that time, however, it was a new-ish thing, and neither Aditya nor I were sure of how serious it would turn out to be. Luckily, it falls more on the side of, say, adult asthma or a severe allergy in seriousness than, for example, diabetes.

Aditya: See, part of the problem – the reason I spoke more to Maa than to Baba – [was] because I always did feel that… Baba and I had talked about things in passing, not detailed things… I always felt that Baba would be supportive, no matter what decision I took, you know? Like I always say, Sachin gets all this advice before he goes in to bat, and once he goes in to bat, it’s up to him, he has to make the decisions. And I always felt that Baba would be supportive over whatever decision I took. I was more concerned about how Maa would react. That’s why I talked more with Maa about it than with Baba.

GG: (to Maa) Does that surprise you?

Maa: No, [I’m] not surprised. But I was concerned when he said that she has some health problem – that was why I was concerned. But when I have seen you, I told him, that she is the best for you.

GG: Okay. Anything else that you thought when you met me for the first time?

Maa: I felt that you were very, um, that your approach was very nice. Your way of talking, your behavior, I liked it very much. Even I told my relations in India, “She is a nice girl.”

GG: So, on some of the blogs I read, some of the Indian parents aren’t very happy about their sons or their daughters dating an American. So people give out various advice, like “you should do this when you meet them”, or “you should do that”. For instance, one of the things that they advise is that you should dress up very nicely, maybe wear a sari when you meet the parents for the first time.

<Baba makes a wincing face>

Maa: I am also no. Even to Bhabi, I told [that it was not necessary] … You are an American girl, but even to Bhabi…

Baba: If my daughter can put on trousers, can go [out] in skirts, what is wrong with my daughter-in-law – someone else’s daughter [doing that sort of thing]. That is how I look at things.

Aditya’s parents are typically very pleased when I wear Indian-style clothing, but I have never felt any pressure – even while in India – to wear Indian clothing instead of jeans and a t-shirt.

Maa: Even to Bhabi I said that, you can wear whatever you like in my house. One thing I told her, when people from village come –

Baba: Yeah, social functions that is, it is better that you put on sari. It is not a compulsion [compulsory] to put on saris, she may put on salwar kameeze also. But [with a sari] that is easier to blend in, because everyone else will be in sari. If you come in sari you will feel a little [more] comfortable.

While I think you can fit into Indian cities just fine in Western clothes, I felt more comfortable – and slightly less conspicuous – wearing salwar kameezes or saris in more rural towns.

Maa: And, nah, one thing I told Bhabi, when people from villages, remote villages – we have got relations there – so when they will come it is better to wear saris. Because they will come for half an hour, for one hour. They will see that this girl is settled in [well] with this family, and their impression is good for the daughter-in-law.

Baba: Because I feel, that people should talk good about our, my family, and of course my daughter-in-law is part of it.

Maa: Even my daughter follows the same thing, it is not [just] for my daughter-in-law.

Aditya: Did you have any concerns, that, you know, other people, people who would be visiting from remote villages… Did you have any concerns that they would see the relationship as a bad thing, and would think less of the family?

Baba: Actually, in our family and among our relations, I have got the impression that generally I do right things. Therefore, in my house, if something happens – what I have accepted – generally the general impression is that that is right. So I never had any doubt that if I am comfortable, and if my daughter-in-law is comfortable with me, that others would have anything to say. So that advantage I have. In my family or my relations, I have a different, I would say, position. And it puts my daughter-in-law in a little elevated position.

Maa: In our family nobody told anything. Even neighbors… Well, I’m not really sure, I’ve never had any concerns [about what they say].

Baba: I have the one advantage that often, when things go wrong, and two parties speak, and to one party I have said okay, the other party, they also accept it. So that way, I know that if I have accepted something nobody would say or make a remark that would be negative.

Maa: Everybody says that, “If he agrees, than it is okay.”

Baba: I knew that my children will not make a mistake or take a wrong position knowingly. And if even they have taken a wrong position knowingly, I would scold them in private, but I would stand by them.

GG: Baba, do you want to say something about the first time you met me? I came with Bear [my father’s golden lab]…

Baba: Yeah, what I remember, is that I had my own expectations. And I feel that I was quite happy that you met most of those.

Maa: But not all…

Baba: Hmmm, but, mostly. Because one this is that you were very easy-going, you were not stiff, you didn’t want to show off, that is what impressed me most.  Generally what happens is that, I feel, courtship is a process of selling.

GG: To Aditya or to you?

Baba: No, anybody. Why? You see, when it is not marriage, it is courtship… I am meeting somebody for two or three hours. I put on my best dress, my best perfume, comb my hair thrice, twice shave. That is because I want to create an impression. But in married life, what we find, early in the morning before brushing your teeth you meet your husband. So that is a completely different [thing]. Before you get into that relation,  you are trying to make an impression – like packaging of any consumer goods… The packaging is good, you accept it, only after opening do you know, uh-oh, mistake, mistake. <Baba shakes his finger>

<general laughter>

Okay. Therefore, generally, when somebody comes on such thing, my impression is that they try to impress. If elders are present in India that happens. Like when I went to meet Maa, the whole family was looking at me [to see] what I [would] do.

Maa: But, you know…

Baba: That is different! We will talk to you afterwards. You will get your chance, okay!

<general laughter>

Anything that is possible! The meals that the would-be bride has not cooked, they are produced as if she has cooked. The handiwork that she has not done, they will try to [show it off]. And if she has done, they will come running, “She has done it!” They will make her sit…

Maa: Earlier…

Baba: Okay, nowadays they don’t do it, but something like it still goes on. Therefore, I always say, that salesmanship part of it I wanted to eliminate. After that, the person I can meet, he or she is the right person. When you came, you came like a girl next door, you were very easy-going, you didn’t have the hesitation for the first time, meeting a foreigner, [meeting] Aditya’s father, and when you have got all those horrible pictures of Indian in-laws…

<general laughter>

Yet, after that, the way you came and reacted was quite good.

I wish I had arrived like the girl next door – instead, I arrived a bit sweaty from the mile & a half walk from my dad’s house to Dada’s place, where Maa and Baba were staying. But Bear got a nice long walk out of it, and I got bonus points for bringing the dog along.

GG: And so what expectation didn’t I meet? Maa said that I didn’t meet all the expectations.

Baba: No, that is what Maa has said. I have not said it as of yet.

Maa: That I will say after the interview. Off record!

I ended up badgering them into telling at least one expectation I failed to meet “on record” – but that will have to wait for the next part of the interview!

This past month, though, Bagel Monday has diminished in significance, and glorious 20 Ounces of Ginger Tea Everyday (With Biscuits!) has replaced it as my main morning motivator.

I love it when my in-laws are staying with us.

Note that I didn’t say visiting us – that would imply that Aditya’s parents are house guests while they’re here, while, as Baba says, it’s their home too. Granted, our daily life changes some when Maa and Baba are here in Washington DC, the morning tea being just one example, but the changes are more minor than many people who hear my in-laws are in-town would expect. Since we’re coming to the close of Maa & Baba’s second extended stay out here (they were here last year in the late summer, and will be visiting once more this year), I thought that it’d be good time to write about the “typical day” in our household while Aditya’s parents are here.

A regular ol’ day

As previously mentioned, when I wake up in the morning, there is always (magically!) a beer stein’s worth of ginger tea waiting for me. Aditya’s and my cell alarms both go off at seven am, because we like to pretend we’ll get up and do something worthwhile, like go running with the dogs. Instead, we watch the dogs pretend that they’re  WWF fighters until Maa knocks on the door around seven thirty letting us know that the tea is ready. I’m not altogether sure when Maa & Baba wake up, although I’ve heard rumors of unholy risings at 0′butt thirty.

Aditya and I will stumble across the hall to the other bedroom, where our tea is waiting on a tray Maa & Baba’s bed, along with biscuits to nibble on – typically we have some semi-bland Indian cookies, like Parle-Gs, although today we had the all-American Tollhouse Chocolate Chip Cookies I baked on Sunday (secret tip: always put in half a teaspoon extra vanilla). While sipping our morning tea we discuss the day’s plans, the state of Indian cricket, and recent news, including what Baba has already read on BBCnews.com that morning. Well, Aditya and his parents talk – about 50/50 in English and Bengali – and I attempt to gather my wits. I think today mostly consisted of Aditya trying to explain why this video and the phrase “the world is literlly her oyster” are so funny.

We’ll chat until a little after eight, then Aditya and I will hurry to get ready for the work day. Last summer Maa and Baba traveled into DC once or twice a week to visit the various Smithsonians – which meant that bathroom real estate was a prime commodity in the mornings-, but this time they’ve hung around at home the majority of the time. By a quarter to nine Aditya is out the door to face the horror that is I-66 during rush hour, and I follow a half an hour or so later, after a quick walk & “tennis ball session” with the pups.

What happens at the house while Aditya and I are at work is largely a mystery to me, something that I piece together from various clues after returning home. The house often looks much cleaner than when I left. Dishes for dinner are already cooked (which makes it somewhat difficult to learn new Indian recipes from Maa). A newspaper will be on the table, despite the fact that we don’t have a subscription. The Burn Notice dvd that arrived the night before from Netflix will inevitably be ready to go out again (Maa has developed an addiction to that show that borders on the level of my CoffyBite addiction).

Aditya and I get off work sometime between six and seven thirty and are met at the door by more chai & chatting. Often this will transition to a game of Twenty Nine, which is pretty much my favorite partner-based card game ever.  Yesterday we played a cutthroat game until ten or so before finally stopping to heat up dinner, and I learned a new Bengali cuss word, courtesy of Baba after I dealt him yet another amazingly awful hand.

Dinner is normally some combination of lentils, rice, and one or two chicken/fish/prawns/vegetable Indian dishes, prepared by Maa. It’s always amazing, altho a bit richer than I’m used to – I’ve gained 6 pounds in the past month. By eleven Maa & Baba retire to bed, while Aditya and I hang out, catch some TV, and likely work a bit on our laptops until midnight. And at some point in there the dogs get a long walk or a jog if the weather is cool and my willpower & injured leg are feeling up to it (the lack of jogging may also have something to do with those 6 pounds…).

I feel pretty bad that we’ve been working such long hours, but there’s not much we can do about it. While we haven’t been able to take days off during the week this summer for day trips, we’ve been going out to eat at unique ethnic restaurants in the evenings. Ethiopian from DC’s famous U Street has been the favorite so far. Weekends have also been pretty chill, with a focus on running various errands and recovering from the week, although we did get into DC to check out the Hope Diamond at the Natural History Museum & the fireworks over the Fourth of July weekend.

Maa and Baba leave for California on Thursday, so you can expect some more regular blogging from then on. Last night, after our marathon Twenty Nine session, they sat down for an interview on their take on intercultural relationships, which I’ll be posting as soon as I can transcribe it.  I also plan on writing some more on their time here, and the lessons I’ve learned from having them stay.

“Are you going to wear sindoor today?” You should! – you look so beautiful when you wear it!”

And, almost always, I mumble something that amounts to “no, not today.”

It’s not that I don’t like sindoor in and of itself. The fine, red powder – which is traditionally worn daily by married Hindu women at the front of the center part in their hair – is fine in my books. It’s not a custom I grew up with, but I don’t think it looks bad – just different. And, yeah, sure, I have a tendency to smear it all over my forehead within an hour of application. Whatever – I do that with my eyeliner & mascara most days too, making raccoon eyes a signature Gori look.

No, my problem with wearing sindoor is that most days I’m headed into work. Where there are a fair number of Indian people. And none of them wear traditional Indian clothing, except for the occasional short kurta – certainly there isn’t any sindoor-wearing going on amoung the married ladies! One older Bengali coworker even expressed amazement that I followed the “old-fashioned” tradition of wearing a loha – a gold-plated iron bangle that serves as a wedding ring among Bengali women – on my left wrist daily.

On the other hand, though, when we have people from the Delhi office visiting headquarters, they love that I wear bangles, that I have kurtas in my regular office clothes rotation, and that I occasionally wear sindoor. (Sidenote: when one of said Delhi office coworkers messaged me with a software question that started with a “yaar, how does one…”, I was pretty thrilled at the implied familiarity. Of course, I couldn’t answer his question, since our computer software is acutally composed of ancient cryptic riddles in text files, not understandable data.)

On the third hand (yes, yes, I know), the last time I wore sindoor to the office, my boss wanted to know if I needed a band-aid for the cut on my head. Yeah. Yeah, I know. Does anyone else have problems with this?

I think I’ll be sticking to wearing sindoor strictly outside of the office from here on out.  Or put in for a transfer to Delhi.

Exchanging Garlands

When I left off on the story of my Arya Samaj wedding to Aditya (see part four here), we had just exchanged garlands at the start of our wedding ceremony. Heavy, massive garlands that took my original concept of flower necklaces – Hawaiin leis – and kicked it up a notch or ten.
Exchanging garlands is a key component of any Hindu marriage – it signifies the couple’s acceptance of each other as spouses. In a lovely scene of one of my favorite Bollywood films, Parineeta, a character says that if a day if particularly auspicious then just the exchange of garlands makes a man & woman into husband & wife.

Of course, at the time Aditya and I exchanged garlands, we’d already been husband and wife for a year. Looking back, I’m actually quite glad that we held our Hindu marriage ceremony a year after our civil ceremony in the States. The earlier civil ceremony was necessitated by law and circumstances – if a U.S. citizen marries a non-citizen outside of the U.S., the non-citizen isn’t allowed back in the States until their immigration status is changed, which can take anywhere from three months to a year. So we had to be legally married in the U.S. and wait for the visa paper rigmarole to finish before we could head to India for another ceremony. That first wedding ceremony – as well as the year of marriage – took a bit of pressure off of our ceremony in India. If I messed up some, well, what was Aditya going to do? Go back in time and erase the year we’d already been married? Divorce me and lose his green card and cushy American life? Heaven forbid! *grin* He and his family were stuck with me.

Now, with a lead-up like that, as you might have guessed, errors, well, were made. Not that it was my fault, of course, that I almost lost balance and toppled over right onto the fire pit during the garland exchange. Aditya had to reach out a hand – with a smirk included, free of charge – to steady me. Of course, the mishap mainly occurred ’cause Aditya didn’t bend his proud neck enough for short little ol’ me to lift the heavy garland over his head. And maybe a little bit because I’m a klutz. Just a little. And, um, I didn’t want to muss my sari. (Did I mention it was a very heavy garland? Anyone would have trouble lifting it. Anyone!) I don’t think anyone – besides Aditya, of course – noticed my near-tumble, so I suppose I’m letting the cat out of the bag a little bit here…
…
…
Moving on, after the exchanging garlands Aditya and I both sat down on the mandap. This is harder than it looks when you’re wearing a big garland, a thick silk sari, and a long veil. And, um, are a klutz.

The Madhuparka Puja

After sitting down, our priest continued to chant various bits of Hindu scripture and hymns in Sanskrit, accompanied by the musicians. Everything was always translated into English for me first, although I still had to repeat my parts in Sanskrit. The first thing I spoke related to the Madhuparka ritual, where I mixed honey, ghee, and curd together in the jar pictured on right, then fed it to the groom. The concoction looked… less than appetizing, and I did not have high hopes on its taste, given the ingredient list. Aditya was all smiles while eating it, though that might have just been because I had butchered the Sanskrit phrases better than Johnny Depp in Sweeney Todd could’ve. Anyways, Aditya informs me the Madhuparka is actually quite tasty, and would likely go well with meat pies.

Kanya Daan

Next, Aditya and I drank some holy water from the Ganges River, cupping our hands to allow the priest to pour it in. Then it was time for my maternal uncle to officially “give” the bride away. Like in Western weddings, this is traditionally done by the bride’s father, but my dad wasn’t able to make the trip to India. Instead, my Uncle Mark stepped up to perform the kanya daan by placing my hand in Aditya’s. Note how the boyo slouches – poor posture ’til his dying day, I’m sure.

I suppose this would be an amazing place to pause, and go on a rant about how patriarchal reins are laid on women throughout the world and how I’m not some chattel to be given away willy-nilly, but, really? In the particular social strata and culture I’m lucky enough to live in those sort of complaints are as needed as the well-intentioned-but-nonetheless-patronizing G-20′s Wives Club or those “top 100 women entrepreneurs” or “top 20 women bloggers” lists. Which is to say it’s not at all needed.
…
…
Moving on from that, well, rant, there was a series of prayers which required us to get back to our feet. Really, I think the priest had just noticed how clumsy I am, and was hoping to see me topple. He seemed like the type who would appreciate that sort of joke.

While we stood, the younger preist began to get the fire started. Now, the fire is perhaps the Best Thing Ever about Hindu weddings. Sure, other faiths have that unity candle thing going on,  but who else has a proper blazing fire that you get to toss stuff into?

Yes, yes, I am a pyromaniac.

I suppose I should put in a disclaimer that, while my tone may indicate otherwise, I took Aditya’s and mine wedding ceremony quite seriously, and I fully respect the various Hindu pujas we performed. The Vedic tradition of using Agni, the sacred fire at the center of many rituals is one of the most moving things I find about the faith – I truly love the symbolism and simplicity inherent in it. However, I also firmly believe that seriousness, respect, and laughter can all coexist.

So it was in all seriousness, but with quite a few smiles, that we got the fire going *hem hem* for the next part of our wedding.

The priest helped some, of course.

And, with that,  I’ll leave the real pyro stuff for the next post. (See! See how Adiya slouches! It’s borderline scandalous! )

As always, you can check out my flickr site for more wedding pictures.

What are your middle names?
Prior to getting married my middle name was Noelle, which is a lovely and unique name. When I married Aditya I moved my short, Germanic last name into the middle name spot, dropped Noelle, and added Aditya’s nine letters long last name. NINE! I rather miss Noelle, but the tradeoff is that I now get to confuse the heck out of people when they read my nametag or work badge. Aditya doesn’t have a middle name because he’s a heathen Indian. Sometimes this causes him to cry himself to sleep at night.

How long have you been together?
We’ve been married for a little over two years, and together for five as of last Saturday. The picture above is of our honeymoon after the American wedding. We went camping on the Channel Islands off the coast of Santa Barbara in California.

How long did you know each other before you started dating?
Depending on how you define “know”, either six months or a few weeks. See (some of) the story here.

Who asked whom out?
Well now. He invited me to dinner and a movie at his place – sausage pizza, rum & coke, and Fight Club. On Valentine’s Day. At the time we were just friends, and he phrased it very sneakily so that I couldn’t be sure it was a date or not. Plus, you know, who watches Fight Club on their first date? (Aditya & I, apparently.) His strategy of date-asking is known as “plausible deniability”, and is a dastardly way of avoiding rejection when you ask someone out. And I wasn’t the first girl taken in by it, I hear…

How old are each of you?
We’re both in our mid-twenties.

Whose siblings do you see the most?
His, actually. We’re both the babies of our families – I have an older brother and he has an older brother & sister. Both of the brothers live in the Bay Area, so when we see one, we inevitably see the other. However, his sister lives in Bombay, so when we make our biennial trip to India we see her too. Good thing his siblings are cool people (and they have children we get to spoil!).

Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple?
Work-life balance, without a doubt. We’re both in the “building one’s career” stage of life, so we’re occasionally often working long hours. And then we get home, and find that, once again, the dogs failed to cook us dinner and clean the house. Fracking freeloaders.

Did you go to the same school?
We both went to the same small, liberal arts college in rural Indiana, which meant that a significant portion of our time dating was spent wandering the aisles of Super Walmart. He graduated the year before I did, and promptly fled to Silicon Valley, abandoning me among the cornfields.

Are you from the same home town?
Hahahahahaha. No.

Who is smarter?
Well… Someone in our partnership has a graduate degree, and someone doesn’t. Someone also scored a whole eighty points more on the SAT than someone else. I’m not naming any names here, but someone should be ashamed of being beaten out on the math section of the SAT by an AMERICAN GIRL. Ahem.

Who is the most sensitive?
I so totally have a higher pain threshold than Aditya. This mostly means I fall down a lot, since motor skills weren’t a high priority growing up. He whines every time he comes home from cricket practice after being hit by the ball – and he plays in a tennis ball league. (Yes, I know this is probably not what the question meant – but, c’mon, I don’t want to embarrass the poor boy too much now, do I?)

Where do you eat out most as a couple?
If by “eat out” you don’t mean “make a midnight run to Taco Bell to relive our days of youth”, the answer would probably be the sushi place down the highway. Their rainbow mountain and “she’s so hot” rolls are some of the best I’ve ever had – even Aditya’s parents liked them, despite the whole “raw fish” thing. Sidenote: every Indian I have introduced to sushi thought I was joking when I told them we’d be eating raw fish. And when I warned them about wasabi. Oh, the looks on their faces…

Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?
India. Or Indiana. It all depends on your frame of reference.

Who has the craziest exes?
This one goes to Aditya. He dated lots of girls his freshman year of college. (Insert bad joke here about American women falling for exotic foreign dudes.) While I haven’t met all of them, the statistics are completely on my side – I wasn’t nearly as active on the dating scene.

Who has the worst temper?
Eh, our tempers aren’t really comparable. He’s more of the flash fire type, while I can keep angry little embers burning in my blackened heart for quite some time.

Who does the cooking?
Me. Aditya can cook chicken, reheat pre-made food, prepare Maggie, and is the master of all things barbeque. When we don’t eat out, evenings go something like this:

Aditya, after looking through pantry and fridge: “There’s no food in the house, and I’m pretty certain it was your turn to go to the grocery store this weekend.”
Me: “Are you on crack? We could eat for a month on what’s in the fridge without even touching the emergency TastyBite rations.”
Aditya: “You’re just trying to weasel out of taking responsibility for not going to the grocery store earlier. You can’t fool me. Or the dogs. Look at the dogs staring at you – they can smell your guilt.”
Me: “They’re only paying attention because we’re in the kitchen. The kitchen which contains food. Look, I’ll show you – I’ll have an awesome stir fry done in thirty minutes.”
*30 minutes pass and dinner is served*
Me: “Wait a moment…”
Aditya: “Thanks for the delicious meal, my lovely tubelight. Took you long enough to light up on that one.”

Who is the neat-freak?
Our basement tenant. We’re pigs. Seriously.

Who is more stubborn?
I’ll admit to being this person.

Who hogs the bed?
Kajol and Panda, when they think it’s close enough to morning that they’ll be able to pretend they’re waking us up, rather than trying to steal a nap on the forbidden bed.

Who wakes up earlier?
Aditya is out of bed earlier 90% of the time, but when I need to get up super-early I have an easier time doing it than he does.

Where was your first date?
The “bum room” of Aditya’s frat, where we watched Fight Club on a couch older than either of us. Good times.

Who is more jealous?
Aditya’s fifth nickname for Kajol is “jealous cat” (cat being a pejorative term in his messed-up brain) because she always wants attention whenever Panda gets attention from me. Of course, Aditya always wants attention whenever anyone is getting attention from me.

How long did it take to get serious?
I was the first girl in college to last more than a fortnight – on the fifteenth day Aditya realized this, had a mini-crisis about the “seriousness” of our relationship, then calmed down when I smacked him on the head.

Who eats more?
Aditya has a far faster metabolism than me, so I think he ends up eating more, but he sure eats it slowly. The speed at which he eats is a running family joke.

Who does the laundry?
We both do. I separate the laundry, tell him which pile he is allowed to wash, he does those loads and I do the delicates & hand wash. I fold and he unorphans socks from our singleton box. It’s all very modern and egalitarian and shit.

Who’s better with the computer?
I am master of the interwebs with a blackbelt in googlefu, and Aditya is charge of the little things like software and hardware.

Who drives when you are together?
Adtiya, mostly, because he cares more than I do about the perfect way to zig-zag in traffic. I find this is a good rule in a relationship: the one who cares more about a little thing takes care of it.

Aditya’s a year older than me, so depending on when this picture was taken I was either finishing up my last semester of high school (I graduated a semester early) or already working in Germany as an Au-Pair. Before leaving for Germany I went through the college application rigmarole, and ended up choosing the same small midwestern liberal arts college that Aditya was crossdressing studying at. Yes, you guessed it – we met in college.

Well, sort of.Initially, I was suppose to start school in the fall, like the other freshman. But I was having such a blast in Germany that I wanted to stay as long as possible. So I begged and pleaded with the college’s financial aid and admissions department, and convinced them to let me start a semester late by promising to finish up my degree on time anyways, which would mean that they would only need to give me money for three and a half years rather than four.  As the Germans say, “hauptsache, die Kohle stimmit!” (Literally, “the main thing is that the coal is right” – Germans have difficultly distinguishing fossil fuels from money at times.)

That following summer, when I took breaks from my daily activity of running after crazy blond Teutonic children on cobbled, picturesque streets – ah Germany, how I miss you – I would occasionally go onto my university’s forum for incoming students. The forums were a place where the freshman class could “meet” online before arriving on campus, and have questions answered by both university admissions people and upperclassmen. Aditya was on campus that summer, as his family didn’t have enough money for a flight back to India, so he took his turn answering questions from anxious eighteen-year-olds on the forums. And that is where we first “met”.

See, as an international student, Aditya was especially focused on answering the questions of the incoming students from abroad. At one point he made a thread about fluency requirements in English – and how the International Center would help bring struggling students up to speed. Before leaving for Germany I had tutored ESL students at the college & high school level as a volunteer, and I was working with a high school English class in Germany, so I jumped right into that thread and volunteered my help to any internationals who might need still need some help by the time I finally arrived in the US the following January. Aditya responded with some details, and boom, we were in a conversation!

A few days later the family I was working for went on vacation to the Rhineland and invited me along, and I forgot all about some Indian dude in the Midwest. And then classes started and the forum withered away.

We didn’t exchange words online again until the winter holiday break, when I was back in the States preparing to finally go to college. Aditya was trapped in the dreary little town of our university, with another international student as a temporary roommate for the holidays. And this roommate, who will remain unnamed, would apparently not shut up from morning until night unless Aditya could plead “conversation” with someone else online. And that is how I ended up being used as a human shield by my now-husband – we chatted on AIM so that he wouldn’t have to talk to his annoying roommate. So romantic!

Finally, January came around, and I was off to college, all fired up to experience this “snowy Midwest” I had always heard about. I still chatted with Aditya on occasion on AIM, but our paths didn’t cross in person. About two weeks into classes, though, Aditya mentioned that he was about to head over to my dorm to play ping-pong with a Bulgarian freshman, Ivan, who lived the floor beneath me – apparently our dorm had the best ping-pong tables on the campus (trust the international students to know this!). He said he’d stop by to say hi in person, and I believe I replied with “cool,” and continued to surf the net in my scruffy pjs. About ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Aditya was there with his ping-pong paddle in hand. We said hi, my roommate and him talked about a jello-eating contest they had both participated in the previous fall – ah Midwest, how I miss you-, and then Aditya said that he had to go play ping-pong (actually, he had to go be humiliated by Ivan – Ivan had mad skills at ping-pong & soccer). We had talked in person for maybe two, three minutes, then off he trotted. And that was that.

It’s a tale for the ages, really.

Oh, and here’s the full size picture of Aditya in all his kimono glory:

***I’m speaking of Aditya’s relatively recent past – as in two days ago – when, after arriving in California for a business trip, he made a special phone call to me just to inform me that it was 72 degrees there, and bright and sunny. Bastard. Americans call this “payback”.