Of Fire Alarms and Maids

On my penultimate day of this US trip, I decided to make dosas for breakfast. Normally I would have made oats, or poured milk over cereals, but this was out of extra love for DH who is going to be alone here for next 2 months, since I am leaving this weekend.
So long story short, dosa batter was lousy (the dosa batter that the Indian store @ Chicago stocked was way inferior to what we used to get in desi stores in Dallas). After couple of sticky, broken to bits dosas, I finally made a round thick one – similar to set dosa. After I sat down to eat, and had barely finished one, while browsing the net, the fire alarm went off. I had forgotten to switch off the hot plate!! The greasy pan was smoldering; the kitchen chimney fan was still working but couldn’t suck the smoke out. I turned it off, opened the windows and contemplated about the futility of desi cooking in American kitchen.

Another day at a friend’s house, I was heating (Note: not making!) frozen Nans and Parathas, and had forgotten to switch on the chimney. Within minutes, the alarm went off. He later told us that the same thing had happened when his parents had come visiting. This guy goes to office and his mom decides to make parathas for breakfast, oblivious to the instrument of fire alarm. As expected the alarm went off, and the guy was telephoned. He instructed on phone to switch it off. Later (since desi cooking can’t be without fire and smoke), this guy wrapped the fire alarm in layers of cling wrap!! The cooking resumed without any hassle, however maintenance guys on discovering the ‘preserved’ fire alarm, did sent across a notice of fine.

I am glad that for the next couple of months I can cook without worrying about smoke and fire alarms, and that I don’t even have to cook and clean back home. I am back to India....where maids/household helps are so quintessential!! They say living is easier/better in developed countries. I vehemently disagree to that. Living is so much more convenient in India. Everything gets done on phone..grocery, plumbing, milk, vegetables, and heck! even currency exchange and routine blood tests. There is a home delivery/service for every single thing that you can think of, and every work (except your job, of course) can be outsourced. Cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing, you name it ; you get it done! Even your religious obligations are outsourced, I have learnt!

The only trouble I have is of traffic and driving on pot holed roads. But that is not so tough baby!

Identity Crisis

I belong to the hinterland where the two most populated, poor, backward, economically outcast, and grossly underdeveloped states of UP and Bihar meet. I have met enough and more people who are rather surprised when they know that I am from the land of Bhaiyyas/ Biharis. The first reaction I get is, “But you don’t look like that!”, or worse still, “How have you managed to come so far” which puts me in a defensive state. I am left to wonder what makes it so difficult for people residing in THAT part of the world to have a better career and better life. Sure opportunities were very limited and access to the outside world would be limited too, but it never stopped anyone from doing anything. In fact after coming to Bangalore, and interacting with people from every part of the country, I realized that I was better off than most people, in the way society was structured there. I had absolute freedom to do whatever I wanted, right from pursuing what career I wanted, to choosing the man I wanted to get married to. My parents had been a guiding force for me, till I became old enough to be responsible for my own decisions. There were no forced decisions. I committed some mistakes, realized the consequences over a period of time, and moved on.

Life in Bangalore seemed complicated, driven by a lot of stress in college and not knowing whom to trust. That was a period of immense confusion, uncertainty, with absolutely not a single friend to talk to. Things were tough, and I am happy that I made the right decisions during my stay there. I guess I would attribute this to my parents and the way I was brought up, to my teachers in school who taught me to be independent, to take responsibility for my actions, and to accept the consequences of whatever I had done without any remorse.

I would attribute a lot of my success to the people who were around me during my growing years. Not that I have been an overachiever in my life, but that I have done reasonably well, and I am quite pleased with the way my life has turned out to be. I have never been ashamed of the fact that I belong to a remote town of a remote state, and I actually am amused when I hear comments on the same. People sneer at times, are surprised and ask me absurd questions like, “Are u sure you are from UP, I think this place is in Bihar”; as if the consequences of incorrectly identification of states would cause either permanent shift in LOC or McMohan Line. How does that matter, is what I am left wondering with. Cities on the boundary of two states share nearly the same culture, food habits, and folk songs, so how does it matter if my home town is in Bihar or UP.

Similarly I am surprised when some people belonging to that part of the world, completely and vehemently dissociate themselves with any linkages that might suggest that they are from land of bhaiyyas. From altering their accents, to changing their food habits and customs, these people suffer from identity crisis. In my opinion a person who is ashamed of his/her roots can’t live in peace. I am not promoting the latest flick “Deshdrohi” here, but the fact that this is a typical Indian mentality. When such people, (belonging to any part of the country), go abroad, they are so mesmerized by the “Foreign” concept, that their long forgotten social servitude rises manifold. So right from avoiding desi people, they adapt to western food habits as if their annaprashan (first solid feed of new born baby) was done with burger and coke. I know a person who and whose mother proudly proclaims that they don’t eat “Hindustani Khana” in their house (which happens to be in US). They twitch their nose at people who do so, because it’s so appalling. How can you eat which is so smelly! I had simply smiled then, when I first heard this. I and my husband keep traveling abroad, and we simple can’t do without our daal, chawal, roti thing. We need to have that, if not daily, at least weekly, and we make sure we do that.
Some times these people even cross the lines, and dissociate themselves from their parents, because their parents have suddenly become too inane and too interfering. Being not satisfied with what life has given such people run after something which have not been theirs.

I guess that’s how most of us are, dissatisfied with ourselves, we strive for things that are not meant for us, or rather wouldn’t bring us the desired happiness. Most of us know that, and pretend to not know, and continue to strive…..