The power of being bilingual

            I am bilingual. I speak English and தமிழ் (Tamil).If reading a few other languages and understanding a bit of them counts, I'd be a polyglot. Cue my 3 years of French in school, some Hindi and picking up Spanish here and there. Either way, I can get away with using  one other language handily. I can use it to my advantage and can smooth out the kinks in my life effectively. Against common belief, every time I slip into my mother tongue,Tamil with my husband I am not talking about you! Well, at least most of the time. It is more about ourselves, that we don't want you to hear and it is not always about you. You just have to take my word for it. It could also be the fact that it is so much easier to blurt something in my own language, than to figure out that word in English. It is a comfort to be able to have that bond in public to be able to share something among us. We are not seeking to disrespect the company, we are not thinking that far ahead. We think of ourselves and quietly share a moment. Call it an intimate moment.                   

            Being bilingual to me goes both ways. Sometimes, English is my saving grace. When we run into another Indian somewhere and you find out they are from another part of the country, we respectfully resort to continue speaking in English since we don't know a lick of the language that they speak. Their language, is as foreign as my language is to you. Every southern state in India and many northern states have their own language. Not a different dialect. It is not Montana and Texas accents. It is just plain different from each other with its own alphabet, grammar, rules, epics and folklore. How many languages are there in India? I might range from 50 to a few hundred. I really do not know.

            Now, getting our kids to be bilingual was hard and easy at the same time. The more we spoke to them in Tamil, the more they understood. It came to a point where my husband and I could not converse in Tamil without being interrupted (in English) by my children about their opinion on the topic. What language could we learn that the kids would not understand? But they do try speak it and struggle with pronouncing Tamil words which then begs the question, does it make them bilingual or not? Google 'Aziz Ansari goes to India' and watch the 2 min. clip. You will get an idea.

            I find it hilarious that my son is learning Spanish. He speaks it and writes it well enough to get a good grade. That should cover what he is missing out on his mother tongue speaking skills, right? I am curious to see him putting his Spanish to practice one day and yet eager to see him become fluent in Tamil, his mother tongue.

                   I agree, it can be rude to speak another language in front of others who do not understand it. I came across that myself when I visited another country and when people spoke around me, I could swear it was about me! But what could I do? Shut up and put up. But the longer I was quiet, I did understand that mango in English, is mangaa in my language and mangaa in Tagalog, a language native to the Philippines. That was as far as I got. I do believe there more common words. Bahasaa Indonesia and Bahasaa Malaysia are languages indigenous to those countries and Bahasaa means language in Sanskrit (and in Tamil). Can't help to then wonder about Tamil and Sanskrit knitting all these east Asian languages together, that you just want to go grab a Rosetta Stone and learn another language. And you say, "Talagaa??", "Apdiyaa?" or "Really?". It all means the same anyway.

                All this blogging got me wired up on how old Tamil was, the internet places its origin somewhere around 600-300BC. One of the oldest languages in the world. Astounded and humbled.

                

What Easter means to me

               

             In India, the Lent season starting on Ash Wednesday and ending with Maundy Thursday and Good Friday was precious to my heart. In so many ways, I miss the revival meetings through out the lenten Fridays that prepares our heart toward the Holy week.  I miss the seven sermons preached on a hot Good Friday afternoon-one sermon for every word spoken by Jesus on the Cross. Not to mention the early morning Easter services complete with communion. Great beautiful memories! 

        When we had moved to the US and my kids were much younger, they came to me a few days before Easter and asked if the Easter bunny was going to bring goodies. They had heard kids in school talking about it. Really? I had recently adjusted to the concept of Santa and his gift bringing. I had even programmed my senses to embrace the tooth fairy but this Easter bunny was just pushing my limits. So I banned him. "NO!NO!NO! You want goodies, I will take you to an Easter egg hunt", I said. We have not missed an egg hunt ever since. It was such fun to watch the kids go crazy! Not so much the parens who willfully bring the kids to the egg hunt and complain about too much sugar in their systems. 

              I have wondered why we celebrate Easter with eggs and bunnies in the US? To such an extent, some kids think the eggs hatch bunnies! The bunny is a mammal, thank you very much! and no there is no connection whatsoever to Jesus and bunnies and eggs and chocolate. I hate the fact it is all pooled together with Easter and we royally miss the point of this glorious day. On the third day after Jesus died on the cross, he rose again from the grave. Easter is the day we celebrate to remember that he rose from the dead and forgave us of our sins.  

              I get it, eggs and bunnies signify Spring and new birth. Is it just a convenient marketing strategy for retail stores and supermarkets to combine it with Easter since they all fall close to each other? But, come on. Between the time change last week, the incessant snowing this week, I have had enough anyway.

               I celebrate Easter for what it is, Jesus. His death, His resurrection, His Love and His forgiveness. Thank you, Jesus. 

The day I ate Mexican!

            Several years ago, when I visited the United States, I went to dinner with some of my friends. The group of friends I had gone with was a funny bunch. The whole time while we waited for the waitress, they laughed about their time as a waiter/ waitress. One guy said how some people would order Quesadilla as "kwesadiLLaa" and the whole table erupted into laughter. Soon enough, the waitress showed up and we began placing our orders. When my turn came, I promptly checked my menu, like what I saw and said, "I'll have the "chicken faJEEtaas". Said it like it was written and my table for some reason became absolutely quiet. The waitress was polite but hey! I knew something was up.

               Sooooo, I came to learn how to pronounce Juan and tortilla, Jose and sopapilla with the silent j's and l's. And still knew enough to say John, Jesus and Joseph. Knew my difference from a Margarita and a Martini. When my son started learning Spanish, I picked up a few words and tried striking up a conversation with anyone that I was sure knew the language. Once I forced my child to say "Muy Bien" to a waitress , when my son whispered that she was asking what my daughter's name was in Spanish. Awkward!!! You think?

                Did you know there is a TV show called India in Spanish??? What are chances?? Did you know the Spanish they speak in Spain is different from the Spanish spoken in South America, Central America or Mexico? When I am in a pinch for Indian groceries, I walk down the Hispanic aisle in the store and am able to gather most of the stuff  I need. Cumin and dried chillies are such an intricate part of my cuisine as well. Salsa is almost tomato chutney and tortilla is an easy chapati.

              My favorite dinner to bring to a friend is, naturally a Cheesy Enchilada casserole and they look at me wondering, "Nothing Indian?"     Nope! Sorry, I seem to lean toward Mexican cuisine over Indian myself. I'd rather make Tacos in a jiffy or a Taco salad for a campout. It's pretty much always a toss up between Chipotle and Qdoba. Go figure!

            With all this talk of immigration, and deportation and building a wall, I really do wonder if America will survive without Mexican food.  Is it possible to love the food and hate the cook? I guess anything is possible.

                                  

My delight and dilemma of being an Indian woman in the United States

          And so it has been every day of my life here in the United States, not that anyone cares, really. But I care enough to have noticed a few points and have come up with enough to write another post in my blog.

             It is indeed, delightful to be recognized as an Indian here in the United States. People are always interested in our accents, where we come from in India, what brought us here, and how long we have lived here. Some are curious about how many languages we speak and if our children speak it.  So there is never a dull moment when we meet new people, there is always something to talk about. I love it. Through my several trips to a few countries over the years, I have found myself to be a representative of  India that I have even memorized some statistics and can almost always knock the ball out of the park with that. Recently, I was invited to a book club (not mine) to talk about India. It was a delightful 3 hour discussion! Every time, my book club(which is the #1 in the world) reads a book on India, I am thrown a bunch of questions and I just love handling them. At those moments, I am fully aware that I have survived the move to another country, survived the culture shock and am living this dream in a country that I have embraced with all my heart and now telling intrigued friends about the country I am from. When a friend visits from out of town, sure, let us meet in a Indian restaurant..., when friends come over, sure it is Indian food. When I misspeak or be flagrantly inappropriate, "Oops! I am sorry, I am from India. English is not my first language". So yes, I do milk it a bit ;)

           And every coin has two sides, does it not? This other side is my dilemma. Some are quite obvious and in my face while others can be very subtle. Either way a delight can turn to a dilemma in a second. Say for example, when I am chomping at the bit to give a smart quip and someone turns to me and asks, "Is that how it is in India?". Suddenly, I go from having anything remotely intelligent to say to being labeled as a citizen of another country. Slowly, the air has deflated from the intelligent moment to agreeing with my Indianness.

           Or when I am mistaken for the one other overweight Indian mother in my son's school....it leaves me to wonder if that is how I am viewed. Not for my genuine niceness(!?) or my intellect(!!??)but for my Indianness. Or the random stranger who tells ,"Oooh! I want to go to India and do yoga" ....probably has no idea I am not into yoga. Never was, never will. Forget the strangers, when I am in deep, serious conversations with my friends and the topic suddenly veers to, 'Indian food'. Or the never ending questions of  'Did you have an arranged marriage? 'Was it arranged when you were kids?' or 'when did you learn to speak English?' There it is again. All my energy and thought now hangs on me handling my Indianness. I still muster something. Sometimes smart, sometimes sassy. But I always hold my chin up.

          You have to understand that when I say dilemma, it is NOT death, it is just a dilemma. It washes over in a while and I am fine again. Ready to be delightful and to ready be delighted with life. It is a fine balance (no, not the Indian book). It is a tight rope walk. I am proud to be an Indian. Proud to flaunt it in a foreign land. Proud to prove that it can be done.

          It's just that when I am asked to prove it over and over again, it gets a bit old.

Turning a year older, again!

          Feeling blessed! I am having a birthday in a few days. In case you missed the facebook birthday reminders, here I am, reminding you all. I love my birthdays, I don't know why! Even when I am reminded mercilessly that I am growing older, I still love it. Something interesting to note about my birthday this year is, I am going to have Super bowl birthday! The entire nation celebrates this day. Couldn't be better, can it??? I get to share my special day with the likes of Peyton Manning and Cam Newton. At the end of the day, only one team will be standing. The other will be crushed but I will have turned a year older and boy! I will be a champion for all in their 40's and will be rooting for the Seahawks! I know, I know. So unpatriotic, especially when you live in Denver. Talking about Seahawks and patriotism brings me bad memories of  the Seahawks and Patriots Superbowl 49....... interception! Ugh!! I agree,I digress.

          My football crazed family has allotted noon to 4 on my birthday to do something special for me and after that have unapologetically declared that they will be watching the Superbowl50. I remain unphased! I know for sure, the gifts have been bought.I guess I am covered. For my birthday post,I am reposting the same chunk of words that I had written for my 'big one' last year and had posted on my facebook page....... But I had not introduced that in my 'blog', so here it goes with a few changes.

         I can't believe life has passed me by and it took me this many years to think, maybe I should write something about this! Every birthday is reminder of a year gained(in your age) and year lost (in your life span). A year you have lived and a number that you will never get to live again. I am losing my 'young' number soon and gaining a new number that I am terribly unfamiliar with. (remember I wrote this last year, I have gotten used to it, this past year.)

          When I look at my life, in some ways I think I have arrived(!) and in some other ways, I think I have not even begun. Isn't that something! Leave behind my years with a positive note and look forward to life with a positive note. Dang! I am POSITIVE about this. If anything, that is enough. I have waited for this year(remember I wrote this last year!!!) To embrace what they call a mature age. Not sure if that will be relevant to me at any age. But I am embracing it nevertheless with JOY! There is something about growing older, I am growing stronger - in faith, in love and in determination. Sure, I am a bit wary of growing older, who isn't? You know the phrase, listen to your body? The more I listen, the more creaks and squeaks I hear. That can't be good! WB40, anyone? And here, enters MOTIVATION. To make better choices. While I ponder about my turning a year older, I do have to concede that so do my husband and my kids. As they grow older, they embrace my changes, as well, every day and every year of my life and theirs. We grow together. And it is beautiful. I want to say a high vocabulary word here but I choose to say WOW! So BRING IT.

           

My New Year Resolution

         Every year, around this time of the year, I have a New Year resolution.  I have resolved this year to redo my every year resolution. To eat more salads. The problem is I hate salads. To the core.

            Why did I think I could blog about salads? I guess because I have so much to say about something I detest? Well, don't we all? What we hate most we can't stop obsessing over. Right?

            We have vegetables in India. Our vegetables are so varied and the vegetable dishes are called kootu or poriyal or kulambu or Sambar, depending on how they are cooked.. But I did not grow up with salads. Any reference to salad in India was lime seasoned cucumbers and tomatoes. But the American salad was different. Arugula and baby spinach. Iceberg and green leafy lettuce. Can be eaten raw with a bunch of toppings, vinaigrettes or dressings.  Caesar? Cobb? Harvest? House? Ooh sounded so healthy. So new. So adventurous.

            After several bouts of weight loss attempts, I decided if vegetables and salads can satiate my hunger and hold off that sweet craving, it has to be worth something. If they hold 0 points in my point calculating program, I can eat unlimited servings. If they are an absolute essential in my fiber intake, why not give it a try?

            Sooo, I convinced my taste buds that they like salad. Went to the store and bought a big stash of salad, salad dressing, croutons. The whole 9 yards. This was going to be the thing that turns me from overweight to over the moon. Several days later, my husband found a bag of rotten, blackened soggy bag of unrecognizable goop in the fridge. If not for the labeling on the package, we'd have never known to this day what it once was. I tried it again after several months- more goop, more broken promises. More salad dressings to replace the expired ones. More croutons that taste excellent by themselves. Who needs a salad when you have croutons???

            But I have not sworn them off. I still proudly order a salad in restaurants and curse myself when the bowl arrives. It is like eating your veggies. Can't live with it, can't live without it. Wait!!! this is eating veggies! No wonder this is so hard. I still reach for the biscuit basket more than I should be digging into the salad bowl. Oh for Pete's sake, the biscuits are so darn tasty!

           What is a New Year resolution you battle with? Let me hear it. Maybe that can be another post for another day in my blog. But tell me about the battles we lose that we don't have to, Battles we wage fearing we will not win. Battles that we have lost even before we started..

             I am happy to let you know, I have resolved to make a New Year resolution. It is going to be good. Not easy but it will be good.

My Peppermill - 2015

          Last year was peppered by rather unusual events in my life. Nothing life threatening or life altering but they were unusual. Unusual enough for me to write about it. UNUSUAL GOOD THINGS AND NOT SO GOOD THINGS. Unusual enough to surprise me and shake me up a bit. I refer to that partly as getting older! It was as soon as I turned 40, it was like a switch being turned on. Physically, I could see some numbers churning up, emotionally some moments taking a steep dive. Every single time this happened, I wish I could say I handled it with grace and dignity. But sadly, I cannot say that. I had reacted in the most basic way. I went off the deep end of worry, discouragement and eventually anger. Every single time. Thought of every worst case scenario, vocalized my fears to my close circle, lived and breathed in fear, second guessed every choice and was devastated at the possibility of things never turning around. I was astounded how easily I could let myself  be shaken like that. I dug myself some logical reasoning  and some justified excuses and called them my pitfalls. Anger was my vent....Sarcasm, my shield.

             In younger years past, I had imagined myself to face such moments with courage and Faith in God. Indeed, I did, many, many times, turn to God in Fear not Faith.  I prayed like there was no tomorrow. God was so gracious in restoring peace to my shocked, simple life. He held me up and steadied my walk and yet I would let go of His mighty hand and slip and fall. I thank God for my husband. If not for God and my husband, I'd be a mess. Both took turns and kept me going.

              As another year starts, I am not looking forward to roses but more of reality. But I resolve to put my Faith into action, read my Bible and be rooted in Christ. As soon as I say that, I snicker because this was how I started my last year. But like I said, I worship a gracious, forgiving God who smiles down on me and says "it's ok, child. You can try again and I will be with you every step of the way."

Thank you, Jesus.

Thank you for the hope I have in you. Thank you for the Faith I can count on you and thank you for allowing me to falter so I can try again with you. Here's to another year of God's grace and mercy, to experience in my life and to impart in others' lives.

When I reread my post, there is nothing significant to 'saying something in Indian' about all of this. oh well, but a girl can write from her heart!