When I go to India, there are three things that I notice. The food, the people, and the companionship. India is one of those places where you can't complete a run because people will be constantly calling you in to talk. Every time I go to someone's house in India, I have to sit there and eat everything that they give me to eat even if I'm not hungry. It's considered rude and impolite if I don't. At the time of leaving, I have to touch the feet of my elders as a sign of respect. Then, if it is my first time being there (or my first time in like three years being there) then the person who just blessed me gives me money. Which I will profusely refuse until they shove it into my hand or I shove it back into theirs. It's a routine that I've got down pat. There is no such "custom" here. If I go to a new person's house, I will say hello, make small talk, and then leave a couple hours later.
I digress. That was not the point of today's blog post. America is a very lonely country. My mom grew up in a family of 6. She never had that much money, but in all her stories of her childhood, she never once told me that she was unhappy. She grew up with a mother who tried to make her children's favorite foods whenever she could, and a father who would surprise his kids with ice cream when there was a little extra money. If her parents were too busy, she would be at the neighbors house talking to the adults there or over the hill talking to the kids who lived down the road. Even now, when I return my little cousin (who is barely three) is always outside with others or in someone else's home. When my parent's and I are in India, people will drop by without notice. One time, my aunt had to make tea fifteen times in one day, because we had so many guests at so many different times. Not one had called up before and said, "Hey, can we come over?" They just kind of arrived.
I know my mom misses that. Here there is not that kind of companionship. People don't just drop in because they feel like it. They call beforehand if they even come at all. People are so busy in their lives, that they don't take the time to make someone else's life a little brighter. You can have everything in this country . . . except the warmth of others. You can have social butterflies, but it's not the same. You can have people who will randomly stop you in the street, but that rarely ever happens. The way Americans are obsessed with their privacy hinders the interaction between perfect strangers, and that's not a bad thing. It's just different.
In India, when talking to a person that you don't know, you address them as bhai (brother) if they are near your age and male, bhenji (sister) if they are near your age and female, kaka (fathers brother) or mama (mother's brother) if they are your parents age and male, and aitha (father's sister) or moushi (mother's sister) if they are your parents age and female. And if you come across and elderly person, you will address them as dada (grandfather) or dadi (grandmother). Here in the US, you have three options. Mr, Ms, or the person's name. It's not personal at all. The companionship, the kinship found in India is not found here. Maybe that's why Indian immigrants in this country find it hard to interact with American citizens. Americans seem a little blunter, a little ruder, a little more intimidating.
My cousin that I talked about before, the village pretty much raised her. It was not just her parents. It was her grandparents (who live in the same house as her), her aunts and uncles (blood related or not), her brothers and sisters (even when they're not really brother and sister) and the many other people of the "village." No one is offended if my aunt decides to drop my cousin Khushi (fun fact: her name means happiness) off at someone's house so that she can go grocery shopping. In fact, it's expected, just like eating every single thing off your plate is expected. It's how life works and I know that my mother found that life homey and comforting. The vast expanse of land here makes her miss the small streets of her hometown so much more. The loneliness here makes her miss her brothers and sisters. Life here is absolutely wonderful, but this one cultural difference sure makes life a little bit harder.
I digress. That was not the point of today's blog post. America is a very lonely country. My mom grew up in a family of 6. She never had that much money, but in all her stories of her childhood, she never once told me that she was unhappy. She grew up with a mother who tried to make her children's favorite foods whenever she could, and a father who would surprise his kids with ice cream when there was a little extra money. If her parents were too busy, she would be at the neighbors house talking to the adults there or over the hill talking to the kids who lived down the road. Even now, when I return my little cousin (who is barely three) is always outside with others or in someone else's home. When my parent's and I are in India, people will drop by without notice. One time, my aunt had to make tea fifteen times in one day, because we had so many guests at so many different times. Not one had called up before and said, "Hey, can we come over?" They just kind of arrived.
I know my mom misses that. Here there is not that kind of companionship. People don't just drop in because they feel like it. They call beforehand if they even come at all. People are so busy in their lives, that they don't take the time to make someone else's life a little brighter. You can have everything in this country . . . except the warmth of others. You can have social butterflies, but it's not the same. You can have people who will randomly stop you in the street, but that rarely ever happens. The way Americans are obsessed with their privacy hinders the interaction between perfect strangers, and that's not a bad thing. It's just different.
In India, when talking to a person that you don't know, you address them as bhai (brother) if they are near your age and male, bhenji (sister) if they are near your age and female, kaka (fathers brother) or mama (mother's brother) if they are your parents age and male, and aitha (father's sister) or moushi (mother's sister) if they are your parents age and female. And if you come across and elderly person, you will address them as dada (grandfather) or dadi (grandmother). Here in the US, you have three options. Mr, Ms, or the person's name. It's not personal at all. The companionship, the kinship found in India is not found here. Maybe that's why Indian immigrants in this country find it hard to interact with American citizens. Americans seem a little blunter, a little ruder, a little more intimidating.
My cousin that I talked about before, the village pretty much raised her. It was not just her parents. It was her grandparents (who live in the same house as her), her aunts and uncles (blood related or not), her brothers and sisters (even when they're not really brother and sister) and the many other people of the "village." No one is offended if my aunt decides to drop my cousin Khushi (fun fact: her name means happiness) off at someone's house so that she can go grocery shopping. In fact, it's expected, just like eating every single thing off your plate is expected. It's how life works and I know that my mother found that life homey and comforting. The vast expanse of land here makes her miss the small streets of her hometown so much more. The loneliness here makes her miss her brothers and sisters. Life here is absolutely wonderful, but this one cultural difference sure makes life a little bit harder.
