Skip to main content

Feeling for roots

For those who know me, the rant I go off on about being "displaced" is not a new one. I went through a period of putting down roots in this great and free land and somehow these past few years, those tentative spreads to "settling down" seem to have badly failed. So now I am in the "when can I return" phase of the life of an immigrant. Into this equation is a new variable: D-Poo. She's of course an ABCD (American born confused desi for those of my audience who STILL don't know it)who says: "schooal" and "yennai," has never been to a temple and has no concept of eating "kaamam" at all. Has never had dosai/idli for breakfast and wouldn't miss it. But somehow I want her to. I have long held dear the claim to myself and all and sundry that a new land when adopted has to be in all its glory: dating for all and meat in the lunchroom even for Tam-brahms and white boys to marry. I have freely mocked the old fuddy-duddies for trying to transplant "tradition" (translate: Sanskrit classes, mandatory classical music and temple visits galore) for kids whose tradition is mostly Thanksgiving turkey, Halloween and associated sales at the stores. And as transatlantic voyages became commoner and globalization a household word, so too became an essential part of being a dutiful ABCD (and the parents of said ABCD): the stay in India to imbibe and assimilate.
Well, I think the whole eating humble pie analogy comes to mind as we prepare for our maiden trip to India since D-Poo ceased to be a baby and became a human being. Here I am thrilled to bits that D-Poo will see her first temple, listen to random music blaring throughout the day, travel in autorickshaws, and buses and trains and will hopefully get dirty and muddy and try to catch the crows and the stray dogs with me chasing after her!!! I am glad she will see women in sarees and salwars and bindis galore. I love that she will have uncles, aunts, grandparents, neighbours and assorted "uncles" and "aunties" fussing over her and commenting and clucking and generally being themselves. But why should it matter so much? After all, that is really not her life. Her life is her group of three rather grimy friends in day care whom she never sees outside of those four walls, the supermarket made up of aisles she can pelt along full tilt, and the car seat. And us in our lonely glory, her only connection to India. A fragile human thread to link her to our past and our life. A life we want her to know if not to appreciate. A life where we felt we were in command of what happened. A life that in retrospect seems simple and importantly happy. A life where the only thing missing was her. And so we want her to see, to feel, to live as we lived.
It reminds me of stories my dad would tell us: of stealing mangoes, poking fun at teachers, getting beaten when caught and endless cricket games. Punctuated with anecdotes of food. We laughed at him then, bored 15-year olds humoring him with feigned interest in a story we had heard millions of times. And yet, I can see it now. Why it was important to him we see his life as he knew it. Simple. Happy. And we will be doing the same, a generation down. Even if only briefly. Maybe when she gets older she will understand why.

Comments

Inkk said…
HumVee,

Difficult choices. And the longer one stays, the more the choice is made for you.

I met someone in India recently, who had things to say which reminded me so much of what you write - how we understand so much more of parents when we have children.

Feeling quite sad after reading this blog. The conflict comes across quite starkly. Hope you find peace one way or another eventually.

Cheers,
Ink (back in blogworld)
A-Muse said…
Dear H,
what a beautiful post...You write like a dream. I'm in a time where I'm extra senti about my parents and this touched such a chord..so thank you.
I originally came on to leave you a comemnt about a silly tag thing I got you onto... but now, after this post.. it seems sillier..
so Im letting that go.

Have a wonderful time at home, in every way.
luv,
s.
Anonymous said…
Humvee,

where art thou???? come back to the blogging world soooonnnnn.....silence on your blog is screaming out loud :)

ps: hope dpooh had a good trip back home

Popular posts from this blog

To work or not to work

Well this blog is developing as a "mommy" blog as a certain reader commented and somehow I am not able to stem the flow... It's just easy to write about stuff that occupies your mind everyday than to worry about Lebanon (Altho' I have to admit, I am particularly touched by this conflict given that Mid Eastern conflicts have been going on for the best part of my lifetime...) I was reading a blog entry by Rashmi Bansal (Yes sissy, I use sites you've listed and like most of them)... Made for interesting reading on the matrimonial ads in newspapers...Now I have long perused these very ads and found them in varying degrees funny, tolerable and downright abominable...I read her rather funny account of all the various types of women listed by type and degree of wanting to work after marriage... Unfortunately there isn't any real manual to predict what we're going to be in life and the baby curveball is truly something unexpected. Me for example: Those who knew me...

New Beginnings

So D-Poo has started at another daycare... all supposed pluses... at the university with hopefully like-minded people...very close to me... dubious advantage, I get to do drop-off and pick-up.. but on the other hand it may build closeness...or else I will damage her psyche forever by throwing out her favourite very annoying CD from the car...She's been very happy though and considerably less dirty at the end of the day which leaves me wondering why I didn't move her sooner... The visit to India of course has passed from her mind except for some ladder-climbing incidents and other random recollections of P-Boy cousin. But some effects we still fondly hope are true and long-lasting... like her attempts to insert more Tamil words into her vocabulary (she mostly sounds like a echo whe we speak but I'll take anything)...I fancy that her tolerance of spicy food has increased (false but I'm a deluded mom...gimme a break here...)...She still has no concept of tradition as I wou...

Get off my breast!!

No, it isn't a continuation of the theme that darling Sissy started ... it's just a response to an article I read on CNN... and ad nauseam on every parenting site, health site, news site, TV ... the list goes on. The current objects of my fury are called apparently "lactivists"... an "empowering" term for annoying people who like to shove their superiority as breast-feeding mothers in everyone's face!!! No, I'm all for it... if you can do it go for it... it's functional, free and most sanitary and billions of people have flourished doing the thing... most intelligent cultures (which automatically excludes all white, caucasian cultures) have recognized this for eons and it's just fine. These sensible cultures aso have had the benefit of being poor and recognize that a full belly is the prerequisite and not what an aging hyper protective mother thinks is a baby's birthright!!!! So what evolved was a commonsense approach to feeding a child.....