Day light savings has arrived, hooray. This means more sunlight and hopefully along with it more warmth. Today is a balmy 61 or at least it'll reach that high from what I eye on my weather app. It was in the 50s yesterday, which amused me because it was like all of humanity was out and about taking advantage. In fact, and I admit this made me shake my head in wonder because I spotted one crazy woman wearing shorts and a T-back shirt with her arms exposed as if it were in the 80s. I was wearing a leather jacket, so yea, it was still plenty cold.
But around these parts with the constant cold gripping the area and the snow that has seemed to settle on the fact that the East coast will now become its preferred home, we residents are eager for any weather that feels even a smidge warmer. And though today may be a work day, I still have a plan in place to take a long walk and soak up as much heat as I can stand before Mother Nature decides to step in and take away my joy.
Anyhow, yesterday I went home for a half day to visit my dad who returned from a one month vacation to the land of our people. He hasn't been feeling well and like a dutiful daughter I decided to cook up a storm for him so that for the next week he had plenty of good eats.
Did I mention before that I'm not a bad cook? Actually I'm being humble, I'm a fantastic cook. But upon arrival one of my dad's friends visiting from Florida had already commandeered the kitchen. I was not upset with this instead taking the time to quickly go visit a friend who was in pain and recovering from passing a kidney stone (ouch). Once back at my parents place my cousins started to show up like a pack of hungry wolves and we enjoyed a wonderful meal.
Sitting at the dinner table with a few of the non-relative attendee's, I was telling one of the aunts (she's not related to me but as we desi's do it, I can not call her by her given name) that I was a blogger/writer. She asked me what I wrote about, particularly interested in the books that I had thus far been able to bang out.
This of course is a topic near and dear to my heart. Not the opportunity to speak about the fact that I write. Hell, I've known her for over 12 years if not more and I honestly didn't think she even had a freakin' clue that I knew how to construct a singular sentence, so maybe the fact that I have written full books surprised her. My writing, as I've mentioned, is private. These blogs are vastly different. These are more or less streams of consciousness which I throw up all over a blank piece of...erm...space.
My books have characters and plots, they have themes and actual conversation. They have a purpose and a reasoning. So what is it precisely that I write about? A few friends have read my 'work' and approve. They believe I should share my characters with the world. Maybe, maybe not. I'm not so arrogant that believe I'm up to par with any of my favorite authors but still...I'm mulling the idea of finally stop being such a damn wimp and just self-publish if nothing else. Moving on...
So as you know, I'm a brown person living in a white/black world, particularly here in the USA. (I realize I've touched upon this topic a few times but oh well...) Our lives demand that we acclimate to the country we call home however, at the same time we toe a very interesting line that only kids of immigrants can fully appreciate. It's the space where culture/tradition clashes directly with reality.
Now the fact is, this nation that I have long since hung my cute chic hat in is chalk full of immigrants. In fact unless you're a Native American, you're heritage is coming from another country far, far away. If you look at it like that, then in reality we are a nation of 'you don't belong here'. Some have had their roots initially settled here a long time ago while others are still making the journey from what they knew to what they're learning. My parents, for example, have been here for 39 years. That's a long time. And whereas they speak the language fluently and have insisted that we become a part of the society, they hold the culture and values of their homeland close to heart. So much so that now in their more advanced (I didn't say old) age, they regularly take trips back. I like that they can do that. After having given up the luxury of home for so long, the fact that they are financially stable to be able to indulge in these trips to disconnect brings me peace.
So what does it mean though, to be one with a family that holds culture and tradition so close to their breasts? As I sat at that table explaining to this aunt about my writing there was another friend, a decade younger than me, if not more but I realized as he nodded his head in understanding and sympathy for the plight we face that I wasn't alone, not that I ever thought so but solidarity is pretty nice.
Aunty did seem surprised by what I was telling her. The fact that we kids of today have to play such distinct and dual (sometimes more even) roles in society, one outside and one inside, seemed to take her aback. Admittedly, she's of the rare breed of women who once coming to this country embraced the reality enough to allow her kids to truly mesh. She's what I would like to call the 'modern desi mom'. Maybe what I was telling her stunned her to some degree. The fact that we, kids of our generation who had parents of an immigrant generation, hid and still hide so much of ourselves from our parents seemed like a (and pardon the pun) foreign concept.
But it's true. This is without a doubt the biggest truth I can state. Our parents, those who gave us birth and reared us into the people that we have become, would not recognize any of us if they were to bump into us out in public. They have no clue the demons we battle, the society we try to be apart of but never feel as if we are nor the various masks we wear. My American friends have often been agog to hear such statements as, "no, I've never been on a date and a boy has never come over to take me out." Their reactions are amusing, I admit. When I tell them, very matter-of-factly, that I would never fathom having a glass of wine with my parents, even at the age of 42, it's as if I've imparted upon them the location of Hoffa's burial spot.
It's not that serious, Folks.
Yes, we are forced to wear these masks. Believe it or not, we are okay with it, for the most part. Yes, it is exhausting and irritating and to some degree a lot of us feel a sense of resentment when we look at other families and see how 'free' the atmosphere is but then again would I trade it for the world? No, never.
So why is this? Why if I get put out by donning these various masks am I unwilling to change my situation? Well because due to the culture and stricture at home, I became focused, respectful, driven, worldly and yes, humble. I believe for me at least, I represent the best of both universes. What's so very wrong with that?
A few years ago while I was having dinner with a girlfriend, she looked at me and said "you're living a lie. Isn't being truthful more preferable?". She wasn't wrong at all. Yes, honesty is appreciated and in fact encouraged even in the desi household (I told you, we aren't so damn different) but the only thing is, is it worth being honest only to hurt the person(s) you love the most in the world? Is it so very difficult to hold back information so as not to cause pain and disillusionment? One day our parents will not be there to tell us what to do or not to do and to me at least, I will then live whatever life I chose without concern but as long as they are around, I will be the person they want me to be. I can do that much for them. So to her, after asking me that question, I said with confidence, "no and I understand that this is not easy for you to understand".
Anyhow, next time you're hanging out with one of your Indian/Pakistani/Bangladeshi friends and they do something 'not so kosher', please refrain from saying 'oh you do that??' because that's akin to saying 'oh you're human??' Just stop. Believe it or not, and regardless of color or creed or which landmass you've come from, we are all the same. You just may love masks more than we do since we have to wear them more often.
Okay, knowledge bomb dropped.
: )
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