Santa Claus

                 I get Santa Claus. He delivers gifts. At least he did ,once upon a time. Now depending on what we tell the kids, he still does in some houses and in some, the kids are just grown up enough to  shut up for the sake of their younger siblings. Then there are some in denial!!!!Not naming names.

                 When I say I get Santa Claus, it has been a process. In India, we have pink Santa Claus masks that a brave soul has to put on along with a sweltering red outfit with a pillow stuffed in to make for a shapely belly. We don't expect him to leave gifts under the tree. He is a  special guest. He shows up at 'Christmas celebrations in a church or a school! The 'Santa Claus' is an event in India!! While the crowd awaits, there would be updates on where he is. New Delhi, Mumbai, Chennai and finally he'd show up in our town! WOOHOO!!! Depending on what is available, he'd show up on the most available mode of transportation that minute. An auto rickshaw, a car, a cycle rickshaw or even a stray donkey. On the sight of this scary looking man with a pink mask and white cotton that constitutes a moustache and a straggly beard, the kids and even some adults usually flee the scene in horror. The children scream in fear and it gets worse when he comes to hold the babies. So that was Santa Claus growing up....for me. Santa Claus did not translate into gifts. In fact, there were never gifts in Christmas. There was church on Christmas day ,a new set of clothes and a good meal. Simple! Affordable!

               Now in the United States, I get it....well, kinda'. Santa Claus is a HUGE deal. Not to be taken lightly. Everyone LOVES Santa. No matter how many dollars you spend and how many hours you spend buying those gifts, the credit curtly goes to Santa. My kids, at the last minute, would say, "Just put it on the list, mom. Santa will get it" Sure! why not. The 'poor guy' thought he was done buying gifts for our family a week ago, now he will have to dash off to the store. Did you catch the pun? you know with dasher and all, totally intended. And soon enough, the kids grow and sorta figure why the gifts are wrapped in the same wrapping paper we got last week or why mom screams at them not to look at the back of the van.

           I caught myself, a few years ago, bending backwards trying to insist to my curious child about Santa coming over on Christmas eve. Why do I do this to myself? When I insist on teaching honesty and truth to my kids, why do I  hold on to this non-fact and insist it is a fact? I don't know. Maybe I do want to treasure that secret of magic. Till it lasts anyway!

           Of course, I don't want to ignore the elf on the shelf! But one of my friends had warned me not to get her started on the elf that has been driving her crazy. So I will let that pass.

 

 

Christmas

               Christmas is in the air, in case you haven't noticed. All the radio and TV stations have nothing but Christmas songs and programs on. From ugly sweater parties to secret santa, it is a huge countdown, really! 

               Suddenly Christmas is affordable. As total suckers for the commercialization of the festival, I believe we have become inadvertent victims of  the retail industry's manipulation. Christmas has gone from celebrating the birth of Jesus to passifying our material needs under the facade of gift giving.  I, for one has totally embraced this for a fact. I even have a list that I want, let alone what my family wants. I finalized the list in October. How did I get this way?

        What happened to the times when Christmas was all about Jesus and a new set of clothes and the best Christmas meal-biriyani. 

That was all it was when I grew up in India. 

They are beautiful memories. The advent days dotted with Christmas celebrations, opening every window in the advent calendar, mailing Christmas cards, carol rounds, shopping for your Christmas outfit, asking your mother, who was coming over for the Christmas meal? Oh, and we would order Christmas sweets-ladoos and mysore baghs and mixture that will shared with all the neighbors in your street. We were never big on Christmas trees but we always hung a star outside of the house to signify the star the shone where Jesus was born.

            On Christmas day, church was at 5 in the morning. We will have to go early to find a spot. One of my favorite memories of the past was being decked in my new silk saree, walking to church and breathing  in the aroma of jasmine flower strands that were used the decorate the church. Life was simple back then. Christmas meant Jesus' birth and celebrating him.

           I miss that simplicity.   

           Now we buy gifts and give to friends and relatives, with the receipt, in case they might want to return it. They convince you they love it and both of you avoid each other in the Kohl's return section the next morning! We groan at the thought of shopping for our picky kids and husband. We groan at the thought of your husband buying the wrong gift for us. We groan at gifts being too expensive. In the end Christmas has become a big groan.

           I just wish I am able to refuse stress to rule me, recapture Christmas this year and celebrate my Lord - the Prince of Peace.

          Having said that, 2020 has had its curveballs. Tremendous Loss of lives, innumerable loss of livelihoods, loss of relationships and my own huge personal loss of a family gathering in India. 2020 was not all loss.....I have gained perspective on all the things unnecessary(shoes, clothes, makeup), gained an understanding of greed (from the panic buyers), selfishness (from those who were deaf to the pleas of mask wearing and social distancing).

          I am mad and disappointed about so many things that could have been. 

         But I also believe our Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father and Prince of Peace,  is right here among us calling on us to get out and help. 

         

The Thanksgiving Turkey

              Have you noticed that any reference to Thanksgiving brings up the topic of Turkey? Right after Halloween and up until Thanksgiving, turkey is a much talked about item. Turkeys for the turkey drive!  Which kind to buy? generic or butterball? how to cook it? Roast it or fry it? Where is the turkey platter?......But Thanksgiving afternoon, it is all about tryptophan and leftover recipes.  Suddenly, the much treasured bird has had its sauna treatment in our ovens.....and poof! All gone....or almost.

              The idea of cooking Turkey the American way was so intimidating the first year we were here, I bought a rotisserie chicken and stuck it in the middle of the table and called it a Turkey. My kindergartener son, insisted that the Turkey was way too small and kept asking me if I picked the right bird.  SILENCE.

                The next year I manned up and decided to buy myself a Turkey, a day before Thanksgiving.  There was no currying this baby up. None of my Indian cooking  savvy was going to come handy here.  So I relented and gave in....to the American way. Now, no one told me you have to thaw the Turkey for days before you cook it. So the thawing in my house happened in the locked bathroom, in the tub. Not cool because it took several months for my husband and I to erase the image of the huge 20 pound turkey bobbing in the water. Why 20 pounds you ask? I don't know. I saw one and picked it up.

                 To top it off, my husband ate the mashed potatoes, the gravy, the corn, the cranberry sauce and the green bean casserole. Not a bite of the tub thawed, well browned  and a bit burnt turkey. The kids did better. The following years, he has graduated to eating 2 bites of the bird bringing me to the realization of maybe this whole thing was more fun only until the bird actually made it into the oven. Not as much fun when it comes out. No fun when I had to struggle with stuffing the stuffing. No fun at all while it sits there all ready to eat and the family avoids it like a plague, year after year. Sometimes, you just have to stop fighting it. Then one year, my parents suggested we cook Turkey biriyani.

                   I have a feeling that this year, the turkey is going to be a no-show at my house. So as Facebook explodes with pictures of Turkey on Thanksgiving that everyone so happily posts, my family will possibly have a Turkey biriyani, made the Indian way! Who knows there might be a picture of it on fb later.

That feeling of dread

       A trip to India is way too long and way too expensive. There is a point to this, please be patient. I mention the trip because every time you want to take one, these 2 points suggest you rethink that thought. Even when you muster the courage to go thru' with the thought process, arithmetic for 4 people in the family floors you. Then you postpone the trip or the thought, if you may, for a later year.

        Through these years, I have heard of relatives getting married, babies being born, my parents' birthdays and wedding anniversaries roll by, or a death anniversary of a close relative and you heave a sigh and move on.  My worst have been Christmases. While we battle being by ourselves on Christmas in the US, we hear of family get-togethers back home. News of family dinners and gatherings in India leave me seething in jealousy or agony. Interestingly, here in the United States, Christmas dinners and gatherings ARE family events which naturally eliminates 'others' .

           On the contrary, it's not just the joyous occasions you miss out on,  a parent falling ill or stubbing a toe, a heart attack or a sudden death are moments when I wish we lived closer. Maybe a surprise visit would not be impossible if we lived in the same country. How do you justify visiting your parents every 2 or 3 years, losing the closeness or the comfort you once had in talking about everything with each other and laughing over silly stuff. It dawns on you that we have indeed become distant. We will never be the same again and one day they will be gone. My kids will remember the memories they made with their grandparents from the too far apart summer visits they have had. They will cherish that, I am sure, but could there have been more? One day 2 years ago,  we lost someone very special. A parent. Ironically we were the last ones to get there after 36 hours.

          One of my very close friends told me, "You live here by choice, so why do you make it look so miserable?" Oh, I wish she had chosen her words carefully. I sure reminded myself to choose my friends carefully. Yes, it was a choice and every choice has its consequence but how do you tell your heart that? How do you cut your emotions from your reality?  How do you calm that panic when you hear the phone ring in the odd hours of the night? Or how do you steady your heart those moments before you answer the phone wondering if everyone is alive? Or how do you deal with the tightness in your chest when you recognize the number is from India but it is not your parents'? Or try to understand why you are hearing someone else's voice and an alarm goes off that this is probably bad news! Those moments have been few and far in between, yet when it happens, it is a thunderbolt. Every time.

Tooth Fairy

             My daughter lost yet another tooth today!  This reminded me that I had written a whole page about the tooth fairy a few years ago. So after a few edits, here it is.

            Nowadays,Tooth fairy is a big deal in my house. We have welcomed her or him (in case this is 'The Rock, Mr. Dwayne Johnson......you know the guy from the tooth fairy movie? )several times with my older son's teeth episodes and have joyfully ventured into my younger daughter's journey, so to speak.

            A few years ago, I was oblivious to this concept of the tooth fairy. My older son was at the verge of losing his first baby tooth when my baby girl was just beginning to teeth! A few years into our living in the US, I remember vividly, the first time my son mentioned ' the tooth fairy'. "Mom, everyone in school's telling me the tooth fairy is going to visit me soon", he casually said.

                                              "WHO?   WHAT?    WHY?"

            As any quick thinking 'international' mother would do, I did my research and delivered!! I made arrangements and the tooth fairy left a whopping dollar under my son's pillow. Phew! Dodged a bullet there.

            Now what I did not know was, the fairy was expected to come every time a tooth was lost. Seriously? The second time, she left 5 dollars under his pillow. My best guess is, she did not have change because she probably did not know my son was going to lose his tooth over dinner and she probably did not have time to run to the store to get some change. That 5 dollar thingy stopped right there. I made sure the tooth fairy never did that again. I even left a note that said, "One dollar would be enough, fairy" and had my son sign it.

            She showed up even when my son swallowed a tooth and went into a frenzy of what would happen to his tummy. Very uncalled for and quite unexpected, she came anyway. Left a dollar! and made my son's day. She was consistent however, until he started losing his molars....... and let me ask you do they not count????  Don't molars matter? Are they not teeth? Because she DID NOT SHOW UP-much to my son's dismay. Ugh! How dare she forget? But after numerous notes, she came one day and left a little something. But my son was over it by then. It took a bit of prodding from my family's side to convince my son to actually look under his pillow. Lo and behold! She had come and she had left a dollar.....just like mommy had guessed. Thank you, tooth fairy. For changing me from a 'What is a tooth fairy?"  to "I can make her show up tonight". I think I am a pro at this now. I really,really hope she has that dollar that needs to be put under my daughter's pillow tonight.

            All I had growing up was ,"You lost your teeth? OOH the flood gates are open." or "Is that the gateway of India?" or " Did you drop it off at the cleaners?" I can't wait to mention the 'tooth fairy' to my relatives in India or mention that there is actually a pillow you can buy which comes with a pocket to put the tooth in! Just can't wait. I wonder how much money every kid makes just by virtue of losing baby teeth that is bound to fall out anyway. Should those funds just be redirected to 'the braces funds' which is probably the next 'teeth' event in the next few years?!

 

 

Football

        I am careful these days to mention that my kids play Soccer to my American friends and properly say that they play Football when I talk to my Indian relatives. If that wasn't confusing enough, here is another: Indian Football in not American Football. Indian Football is American Soccer. Phew!

          But my confusion lingers even after all these years after I moved to the US, because, in what we call football in India(or Europe), we actually use our feet to kick the ball around. If it touches the hand, it is called a hand ball and the play is stopped for further review or a penalty kick.  But here in the United States, in the game of Football,the football is thrown by the quarterback(using his hand), caught by a running back or a wide receiver(using his hands) and  is carried in the crook of his elbows(!) as he runs to make a Touchdown.  As this happens the defense is trying to push away the offense, using their strong hands. In case of an interception, the ball is caught by a player of the opposite team using his very hands. The punting and the field goals, as far as I know, are the only times when the kickers use their feet!!!

So why the name Football?  I ask.

          While this question still remains unanswered , I do find a few other things in Football intriguing, to say the least. I find the fact that the Quarterbacks get instructions thru' out their play, very fascinating. What is competitive about being coached as you play?  Any other sport has the coaches in the sidelines jumping up and down while Football QBs enjoy the luxury of advice, it seems, as they play.

          Next, is the amount a team is willing to pay a QB when the country in swarming in an economic crisis......... A number beyond my comprehension. A number beyond logic and reason. How come they don't ever take a pay cut? Why are football game tickets so expensive?  Why are cheerleaders such a huge part of a Football team? Why is the food sold at  the concession stand so expensive? Why do people love Football so much, they rush home soon after church to watch it? What does Football do that has this country wrapped around its little finger?

Hmmmmm.  Could this tinge of bitterness be out of resentment now that I am forced to settle for a small TV while my husband has encroached the 40" TV to watch his favorite Football team get crushed? Or could it be that my family that has strict TV times and strict bed times, has all the rules broken on a day that Football is aired? or could it be the fact, since Tebow is not tebowing in my home state anymore, or anywhere for that matter, my newfound interest in football suddenly waned?

          So as I grumble about my husband's distraction and mutter my way to bed, I hear an occasional YES and then many "oh no"s and several hours later a dejected hubby climbs into bed explaining how things could have been different and what they should have done. It has recently just dawned on me, I am that American wife that complains about her football addicted husband.

          After all the whining, I am proud to declare that my family and I  are now ardent Seahawks fans these days. Even after that heart wrenching interception Super bowl loss that very last second! What if it's a 1-2 start this year....... There is still hope! If deflategate can disappear into thin air, and Brady's suspension can be overturned, I guess anything can happen! Go Hawks!

          We can handle American Football and FC Barcelona and Real Madrid.  As far we are concerned, Messi, Brady, Neymar, Wilson, Suarez and Rodgers all play Football. Now to work on getting them all in one fantasy team!!!

 

My Arranged Marriage

          Today my husband and I  celebrate our 15th wedding Anniversary! If you have been wondering, yes, It was an arranged marriage. God has been good to us and I believe we have been good to each other!

           On this beautiful day 15 years ago, we had an arranged marriage but against popular belief of arranged marriages in India, it was not a forced marriage nor was it arranged when we were kids. I have been asked all sorts of questions by my American friends about having an arranged marriage, I have pondered writing a book, but as life would have it, at this juncture, this blog is my best bet.

            As for my Indian friends, no one bats an eyelid over such marriages, all their parents got married in similar fashion and most of my friends did. Some found their own spouses, some during college and some through the internet! In my case, I was absolutely comfortable in letting my parents find me my husband. They did the hard part! Checked  family background, education, economic stability, job security of the suitor and then presented the details to me.  All the things that would have made it profoundly much longer and tedious if I had dated and pryed that information myself. In this case, both families disclose details which sets the ground for openness and honesty. In a way, the parents iron out the kinks and there are no shocking discoveries to me made along the way!  Next came the part of consenting to be married! That does not come light or quick. Here I am , agreeing to spend the rest of my life with this man I do not know, a lot of thought had to put into this but with years of praying diligently, it took me 3 days to say yes. And say yes, I did.

         From my years in the United States, and watching people get married, my kinda' getting married seems all so upside down. We did not date for years or cohabit or plan our wedding together. He did not propose in one knee and I did not get a ring. No rehearsal dinners or wedding dress fitting stress. No in-laws stress. No arguing over the wedding dinner menu. We  spoke a lot on the phone and emailed regularly. We planned our shopping list for the house we are going to live in and got busy renting an apartment  and buying furniture. We planned on how we will live and how many kids we'd like to have. It seemed be just the right kind of getting prepared for me. Once we got married, getting to know my husband was like opening a gift. I knew it was a good one, because I had prayed  for it. Was I apprehensive whether I'd like it when I open it? Big time Apprehension. And when I did open the gift, thru' the initial months of being married, I had forgotten what apprehension was and had fallen head over heels in love with this man I had married. And the stories we shared about our childhood to each other and getting to know the person you are married to, in small yet profound, deliberate steps. There was something magical and beautiful. Not at all intimidating or mindboggling as you would imagine. It was indeed, just perfect for us.

            If there is one lesson I had learnt in this 15 years, Marriage, arranged or not, is not easy. It is a lot of work ,indeed. Looking back, so many things could have gone wrong along the way and we are so grateful it didn't. We were not perfect by any means. We held onto God like a lifeline through the years. Our kids humbled us, God refereed us, Prayer strengthened us and they continue to.         

         

Back to School

        My kids went back to school today! I am not quite sure if I am sad or not. My heart aches to not have them around but the quiet house reminds me that silence is indeed an option. I had forgotten silence. I was the most 'wanted' person during the Summer months. "What's for breakfast, MOM?", " Where is my shirt?", "Where is the remote?"," Where are my keys?"(this was the husband), "Where are we going today?" "Mom" "Mom, where are you?" Right about now,  a teacher in a school nearby is wondering why she signed up to be a teacher! I sit back and giggle. "I hope you had a well rested Summer, teacher! My kids have a lot of questions".

          But as we watched our kids get ready for their school, my husband and I could not help but be reminded of our own "getting ready" in India. We constantly are amazed by how drastically different and similar it can be. For one we had uniforms that we purchased every year, 2 sets and wore them throughout the year! Every school, public and private, had uniforms for their kids. Mine was white and blue. My husband's was white and khaki. We bought our soft cover books and bound them into hard covers in a 'printing press', were given a list of school supplies on the first day of school, we bought those and got them covered with brown paper and labeled them with our names and grade and section. We fought to get a seat at the very back of our classroom away from the direct vicinity of the teacher, not too hard when you are one in 70 students in a class. There was no meet and greet, no first day pictures. Just 'utter intimidation' as you step foot in your new classroom. Another year of "dread and high expectations" hanging over you! Dread because of the curriculum that adds on more for every exam that comes along the year. We had 3. Quarterly, Half yearly and Annual exams and for everyone you study more and by the time the annual exams come along, you better have studied the whole curriculum for that final exam. The make or break exam. The Annual exam. If you were a 12th grader in India it really is. That decides where your life will go! Whether you enter Medical school or Engineering.  The high expectations are that you are expected, by everyone else except you, to do your best and be the class topper and make it into Medical school or Engineering . Somehow other venues of  education are looked upon with much lesser value and yet the predominant society pursues those very venues when they don't make the cut !

          As I try to find some similarities to the 'then and now' and the 'there and here', the list of school supplies costs about a million bucks in both countries these days. Suddenly everything 'needs' to be purchased including backpacks and clothes and shoes in addition to the bare necessities.  Is there a remote possibility of a laptop computer? But the electronic calculator-not the cheap kind- is mandatory!! I sensed a subtle 'dread' in one of my 2 kids. Not my kind of dread-but dread of waking up early and the definite possibility of too much homework. The other one dreaded having to wait out 21/2 months of Summer to go back to school.  I do suspect my kids have a similar 'high expectation' criteria to meet.

           Everything was done online this year-school fees, registration, schedules. Truly at the cutting edge of  times, aren't we? My kids are ready to roll. I bet yours are too. Here's to wishing they have a joyful, healthy year ahead. Wishing for extra snow days and less testing. Wishing for more fun and less homework.

 

We have people for that

          In India, there are those who have it all: money, families, families with connections, a decent education and a job..  and then there are those who don't. Mainly due to circumstances of their families, or the families' economy and mere ill luck. No education, no money, no means, no guidance, no unemployment benefits. These are the people who have my respect. They take nothing lying down, don't pout about their misfortune, these are my fellow citizens who dust their misery aside, buck up and say, "Give me work to do, I need the money" .

          It could be a man who shows up at my doorstep and offers to be my driver. With the traffic we deal with, and the several modes of transportation ranging from animals to bicycles and motorcycles and cars and auto-rickshaws and trucks........a driver to ease the blood pressure hikes??? Oh yes, sir. Hired.

         During my first few months of being married, a middle aged woman who knocked at my door when I was pregnant and said, "Let me work for you, I need the money, you need help" and I said, "Please come in". She washed my clothes and my dishes, swept the floor, drank a cup of tea and got paid monthly- Not a bad idea. We chatted about our families and giggled at the neighbors. My maid(for the most part)was content with the money given, the leftover meals, the used clothes.... She knew how to manipulate me by her constant demand for a salary hike or the threat of quitting, but I knew better than to let her be hired by my neighbor who would pay her more. 

          And so I came to hire a driver, an occasional cook, a gardener, a painter, an electrician,a plumber and  a grocery delivery boy. All needed the money and yes, I needed the help. This reminds me of another maid that helped us for years, she was fiercely motivated to educate her sister because she had never had a chance at education. I did teach her to write her name and read the newspaper. Good times!

          Then came my move to the DIY country. The land of U-Haul. I  paint my rooms myself, and wake up the next day with aching muscles. Feeling the brunt of having been spoilt? The walls glare at me.. Feeling judged for their many boo boos? I drive my own car up and down, love the freedom but hate the technicalities. Esp. the oil changes and checking the brakes and oh! the car washes.

          You can imagine my surprise when the first American handyman charged $50 for the first hour and finished his job in 10 minutes. Or the painters we hired charged us so much, we seriously contemplated how badly injured we'd get if we fell off the roof painting the house ourselves.

             So while I ponder the ease of life in the US with my dishwasher, washer and dryer and vacuum cleaner which easily replaces the need of an Indian maid, I bet my relatives wonder if I indeed eat bon-bons and watch soap-operas all day long and drive around shopping away. Sure, I can hire a maid here....... at the cost of an arm and a leg!

             I try as I might explain to them and my kids, that shopping in the US is still getting every item off of the shelves and putting in the cart, pushing it to the counter, lifting every item off the cart and putting it on the conveyor belt, and once it is swiped and bagged and paid for, I still haul the bags and put it back in to the cart. Once I reach the car, every bag is hauled into the car and at home, every one of those bags is hauled into the house and every single item is put away.

This maid has had her strength training and is tired for the time being!! Where's the remote and the bon-bons?

Saying something from India

 

         The heat is stifling.  I am in India now! Visiting family for a month. Should have expected the heat since I was  born here and grew up here. But I had "imagined" it would be better when I visited this time. Now would be a good time to let you know I don't have a great imagination. Somehow thought, the weather would be kinder to me. No luck there! Well, the fix for the stifling heat is a hot cup of tea and if you're lucky some air conditioning. I say the former with a bit of sarcasm and the latter with a lot of humility. Not all have air conditioning. That says a lot about the people who put up with the heat without realizing things could be better- which brings me to the point of ' when you don't know what you are missing there is no place for whining'.

          Despite the heat, my kids are champs. They've mastered their bobble heads, reply in Tamil(my native language),know what TV channels to watch and what foods to ask for. So observant, so patient. I have loved watching them try new foods and pick their favorites. I have enjoyed watching them 'namaskar' our relatives with folded palms. I have relished teaching them to be proud of where they are from . I have utter joy in seeing them interact with their grandparents and listening to stories about their mom when she was young(er). Heat or not, this trip has been beautiful so far. I have loved blending in with my Indian crowd. Once I slip into my Indian clothes complete with jasmine flowers in my hair, I am one among the crowd. Yet, I love it when friends recognize me and taunt me for trying too hard! I love reminiscing old times with my parents, love finding age old pictures of myself in an album or a piece of paper with my writing on it.

          Life is a strange thing. You yearn  for things in your memory all your life and yet as time passes that same yearning looks onward to the life you need to return to. It hurts at the prospect of moving on and yet you do, you move on with your life. The vacation will end, life will start back on. But my memories will be richer and my life will be fuller. I just know it. But for now, I will pack my boxes as the trees outside consider the light breeze coming on and wonder if they should sway or not.

Chai Tea and Saag Paneer

            Two terms that drove me up the wall.   Anyone mention it to me and I'd go,      "there they go stereotyping this innocent Indian woman". I went from this notoriously irritating phase to "Oh, let me help you stereotype me into one of those Indian women".

             From where I come from in India, which is the Southern part, we drink tea. Add tea leaves to boiling water and milk, simmer a couple minutes, add sugar and drink. We even call it.... tea. Some households, drink it twice a day, some thrice, some keep no count. But that is it.

             I had never heard of 'chai' unless it was part of learning Hindi where chai means tea.  The first time I drank chai was in the United states. After hearing so much about chai and after being asked numerous times if I can make chai, I relented and got some chai powder added it to my tea and whoa! was blown away. The spices deepened the flavor and heightened the taste. The aroma tied it all together and my throat was beyond pleased.

             Since then I have taken a keen interest in switching things around with what I add to my chai. Crushed ginger, or pepper or cardamoms and cloves and cinnamon. Anyway I make it, it hits the spot. This year, I downloaded a recipe from the internet and made 25 packets of chai powder as a gift for my kids' teachers and my friends. Thus, enlisting myself to be kindly stereotyped.

           Oh and remember the time I said chai was a hindi word for tea? That is why I still get all riled up when someone says Chai tea, but maybe I shouldn't. I live in a town that has a Table Mesa mountain!!

             Saag paneer..................never heard of it either, until I came to the US. Did not even know what Saag meant. Sounded like it could be soggy and guess what, it IS! Once again, I have to pertain to the fact, that it is a North Indian dish and there was no reason for me to hear about it in my state where we have our own cuisine and very spoilt taste buds. Yet again, when people ask you over and over if I knew how to cook it, there is a sense of intrigue that makes you want to try it. That or your town only has North Indian restaurants and your choices  for  Indian eat outs are limited. Today I have had 2 friends tell me that I make the best Saag in the world. GREAT! Stereotyping going great.

                                               

American Cuisine

                                                    American Cuisine

            When I first got to the US, I was just fascinated with the novelty of American food. The new smells in the restaurants and the numerous  herbs with unique names were so intriguing. I pestered my friends to give me recipes from their cooking  magazines and followed them to the tee. Had no idea of substitutions, no idea that I could buy extra groceries and put it in a pantry. Got what I needed at the store and that was that. Definitions of cuisine terminology were not a given with my Indian metric system upbringing- measurements in quarts and pints and ounces, and cups and tablespoons  seemed to limit my imagination or creativity but if I wavered, how would I know how the dish was supposed to look or taste? So I stuck with it.

            New names were another torment..... like casseroles......I had once made a sweet potato casserole for dinner. That was  it. Nothing else. Nobody told me you needed meat to go with it or a salad. We just stared into that dish all evening!

            I slowly dawned on me that no matter how Americans agreed or disagreed on Hispanic immigration laws, I realized they all loved Mexican food with a passion. Vegetables were optional. Pizza was not. Lettuce was zero calories but the salad dressings were not. The one, big lesson for me-weight gain was easy, weight loss was not.

            I loved being introduced to a built-in oven.  In my hometown, we did not have ovens, we lived in one. So seeing one below the stove gave me a kick. Amazing how you put everything in and dinner is done in an hour. WOW! That was  a welcome surprise considering  the  number of  hours we log in, in the kitchen, cooking our lentils and rice and curries. Since almost everything in Indian cooking is water based, almost all the dishes need to be supervised to avoid getting them burnt.

               With the new oven, came the discovery of boxed cake mixes..... With baking came humility. You wouldn't think they'd go hand in hand but the first time I made a batch of cookies, I looked in the oven when the timer beeped and saw they were perfect, so I closed the oven, turned off the stove and walked away.......so we could eat those yummy cookies when they cooled down. HUGE mistake.... Note to self, remove cookies from oven when done unless you want them burnt beyond recognition.

                An oven and a dishwasher, to me was joy on top of freedom!!! But the dishwasher story is for another day.

When my 2 worlds collide

                                           

            Generally, when there is a collision, you expect sirens........ and if that does not happen, you wait for something to start hurting....... when that doesn't happen.......You look at the crossroads and wonder which road to take. Eventually  you do what you  have to do, you make a choice. Not so much like Mr. Robert  Frost, you  tell yourself  you're going to  try to make the best of both worlds. This was me 12 years ago. Some days this is me today.

            You guessed it. I am from the beautiful India. One day, I moved to the United States.

            I had been in the same place several times in my life, where cultures clash and you can't figure out if it's yours or the other's that clashes more.

           The questions, the frowns and raised eyebrows - I encountered rather hesitantly and braved the culture that seemed hard to grasp.  

            But  after 12 years, I feel I have embraced it enough to make my way thru' it but out of the blue, something would come along and leave me speechless or breathless. I find enough oxygen soon enough and muster the courage for yet another day and another year.

             I read amazing, intelligent blogs of brave people. This is not such an attempt. I do not aspire to be amazing or intelligent and least of all brave. I just want to make you smile. Maybe even laugh. Just want to give you a peep into my life of how I seemingly handled my culture shock and share my adventure in pitching my tent in another country with my family. Where will I be if not for my family?

             My sweet husband taught me how to start a blog. I have the loveliest of kids. They read my blog and call me 'the blogger'. I think it is catching on in my household that mom is going to share her stories.

              So check out my blog every week. Or every other week.

             

 

 

 

Say something in Indian!

            If  you can possibly discount the politics and poverty of India, you would think this country is absolutely the most beautiful place under the Sun. But, who am I kidding, how do you discount the corruption of the political world  and the ignore the starving elephant in the room. So as you add these 2 to the mix, then appears the land of contrasts. On one side live the poorest of the poor and on the other side live the insanely rich, neither can quite explain how they came to be where they are now. The first can't come up with an answer and the other better not come up with the answer.

           But as you scratch the surface of what meets the eye, lies a greater something  that is masked by the 2 already mentioned giants of the nation. I'd call it sheer beauty. Beauty in its art, music, literature, diversity of religions, tolerance to the diversity of religions and respect to this tolerance, in the most part. Then, there is beauty in the landscape. Ranging from the snow capped Kashmir to the intolerable scorching heat of the small towns to the mesmerizing greenery to the long winding rivers that are looked upon as the source of life. Beauty in the art of driving without traffic lights or driving with no lights at all.

            Beauty in being content.

            Beauty in disregarding the greedy. Beauty in the jostling crowds that move at their own pace. Beauty in the different languages they speak in every state. Pride in owning their language with its own poetry and literature indigenous to that land. Beauty in broken English when you can't speak the language. Beauty in Bollywood, Kollywood, Tollywood and Mollywood. Beauty in its spicy food and spicier TV masala.

            Beauty in trying to explain this awesome country to an American friend who says, "Say something in Indian".  Beauty as you bite your tongue because I want to say," we speak a million languages in India. Not one of them is called Indian."