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The Taste of Ginger(108)

Author:Mansi Shah

She looked at me. Understanding oneself and one’s identity didn’t factor into marriage decisions in India, especially when she’d been getting married, so my words were a novel concept.

“How did you learn that your engagement was broken?”

A wry laugh escaped her lips. “When I heard he was engaged to someone else ten days after ours had been decided.”

I gazed at her. “He didn’t even tell you himself? How awful! What a coward. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“We cannot control other people,” she said. “But yes, he was exactly that!”

“I went to Happy Snaps and told Tushar in person,” I said. “With the apology he deserves for any problems he will face with his family because of me. He did nothing wrong, and I needed him to know that.”

A smile warmed my mother’s face. Even though I’d always assumed she wanted to see me married at any cost, I now sensed I had made the decision she’d quietly preferred. “I’m proud of you for recognizing that.”

“You were right too. I was naive to think love alone is enough. A sense of culture and family are important as well. Those things never go away, even if you try to ignore them. I realize they are a part of who I am, and even if my future partner doesn’t have the same background, he has to respect and appreciate mine just as I would his. You can’t trade in your culture for another. A leopard doesn’t change its spots, as Monali Auntie would say.”

We both stared ahead, lost in our thoughts.

After several minutes, she said, “I didn’t realize how hard it would be on you kids.”

“What?” I asked.

She sighed. “Going to America.”

I stared at her.

“I had never left India before it. Everything I knew of America was from television. I could not have known.” Her face fell as she said the words. “I thought we were doing the right thing.” Her voice broke. “Especially for you.”

“I don’t think you did the wrong thing,” I offered, not able to imagine a different life than the one I’d had. I reflected on my life and experiences up to that point, and a moment of clarity shone through. “I don’t think you realized that I couldn’t be both a traditional Indian girl like you were used to seeing here, and a successful American. I had to choose one. In America, they are mutually exclusive. And I saw how much we struggled as a family for money when we first arrived, and I knew I had to choose professional success. That meant I had to immerse myself in that world if I had any hope of surviving. Everything in my life has been about making sure I could do that and be able to help our family. All I ever wanted was for you and Dad to not have to worry about money and us the way you did when we were little.”

She pondered my words, her expression changing as if a fog was lifting for her as well. “We’ve all made a lot of sacrifices for this family. I did not know that the Great Melting Pot forces immigrants to make that choice. That it would force you to make it.”

“It didn’t feel like a sacrifice to me. It felt like the only choice. It’s the same one I would go back and make again if I had to.” I’d realized that the only way I could succeed in the way that I wanted to for my family and the way I felt they needed me to was to distance myself from the values that my parents held so dear. America didn’t allow immigrants who retained their home cultures to be accepted as American. The only way to be convincing in the workplace was to transition into American values and customs and hold them as your own.

She let my words sink in. “Maybe we were both naive. We cannot understand what we do not know.”

“Do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if your first engagement had gone through?” I asked. “If you’d stayed here and never left India?”

“There is no need to worry for me. My life is as it should be.” She turned to me and put her hand on my leg. “If that marriage had gone through, I would not have you and Neel. And maybe that man and I wouldn’t even have developed the deep friendship that I have with your father. Chetan and I did okay in the end. It’s not Hollywood love, but we love our kids and respect each other. That is what marriage should be. At least, for us.”

I smiled, basking in the warmth of the moment.

She patted my leg. “We should stop idling. Things will get hectic as we rush to pack to go home.”

I felt heavy as she mentioned the flight.

“There’s something else I want to talk to you about,” I said. “I’m not ready to go back. I want to stay in India longer. I’ve been gone for so long, and I really need to understand this part of me again.”