The Indian Tartufe
Living in this part of the world constantly demands vacation. My house got robbed sometime after 15th of December and my mind was robbed before due to exams. No wonder vacation was what I wanted. This time I choose Cincinnati in Ohio.
Quarter way through the destination a corpulent rotund man, with his neck hardly visible boarded the bus.
He asked me, ” Is this seat occupied”.
“Do you mind if I take the seat?”
“Are you from India?”
“Yeap”, I said.
“Me from mum-ai”
Thus, I met yet another Indian with accent. There is something about this accent, something funny. It drives all such Indians into a level of superiority. It is a proof that the person has been in America for a longer time than the Indian without the accent. They proclaim the beauty of American system which is generally cursed by American Americans. They dislike the pollution of India, and say that the American weather is so pure. Yes, they are the Indians with accent.
“Somehow, I could never adjust in mum-ai”.
“It’s just not my type but I love the curry food”
“Yeah, everyone does.”
“So, will you go back to India?”
“Sure, I will. I would love to”
“I don’t think so, I will ever return to India”
“I went to India few months back, this summer. To mumbai. To transfer our bunglow to my cousin since they are living there. I don’t want to sell it. In case, I decide to retire in India…”
“Yeah, it does make sense. Life would be easier there, for sure”
I took a berry Muffin that I had bought at the Hamilton station. It was really tasty. Blue Berries are a fascination here for me. I love them.
“So, you are going to detroit?”
“Yeah, Cincinnati actually. Have friends there.”
“I would go to Rochester, drive there with my family in Detroit. My daughter is getting married this January”
“Thats great, Congratulations!”
“She is my small girl. She is marrying an Indian who is a dentist and earns quite well”
“Good for her!”
“So, is this her love marriage?”
“Yeap, arrange marriage and my daughter, no way. She had so many boy friends in College and I was very strict with her. She would complain that I allow my brother to bring girls at home, why not me? I told her,” look you are a girl, you can get a baby but not my son”. I was indeed very strict. I would like her to get married now and settle down and give me grandchildren”
“Yeah. She must be excited to get married”
“Well, actually I am not happy that she is getting married. I wanted them to know each other well.”
“How long have they known each other?”
“Thats good enough and I am sure she is old enough to know who is the right guy for her”
“23, she is 23.She is my little girl and she knows how to get things done from me. She said she would alope if I don’t get her married. And that would hurt me more”
“Haha. For sure it will. Girls are always father’s daughter.”
“Yes, they are”
“You know I told her to wear saree for the wedding. But she is wearing the wedding gown”
“I told her why not, you are an Indian. But she won’t listen.”
“But white wedding gown on wedding?”
“So, what are you wearing? Indian dhoti?”
“hoho!! Not at all. I can never wear those Indian dresses.I will wear a coat. Indian dresses are just too much”
“oh! You can’t ask her to wear a saree then!”
“You know moo-r-tea”
“I forgot what you call it?”
“Yes. I don’t believe in puja and all. My mom does it all the time. And I have to tell her, mom, just stop doing that”
I was taken aback a bit.
“I was born a Hindu but then got converted to Christianity”
“I would want my son to get married. I wonder whether he ever will. I asked him whether he was gay. He said, dad?”
I tried to laugh and I did.
“My third son would not get married. He is like that”