R & I have a home now and are happily married.  But the problem has never been us.  Buying the house was great yet we had a lot of requests of his family to see it right away, rearrange our kitchen, etc.  A word to the wise: marriage does not change everything for the Indian inlaws and family.  They have eased up on R and I to some degree I think… but I am still challenged to feel I married R and not them.

The biggest issue is my MIL.  In short, she still sort of behaves as if R is her little husband.  If he doesn’t call for a few days she will yell at him and ask him where he’s been.  When we got the house she asked to move in with us for a while (and she has a living, very kind husband to boot).  She wanted to come over the first day we got the house and has told R he doesn’t care about his family (namely, her anymore).  There are a few more strange and awkward instances with her but ultimately I think there  are some real issues of enmeshment here.  It is not a dynamic that is easily changed, either.  I imagine several, oldest Indian sons have similar experiences to R.  Mostly, I just feel bad for R.  I feel that he gets beaten up and somewhat manipulated and I can’t do anything about it.  It’s hard because I’m a protective wife who fiercly loves her husband.  Instead I have to be exceptionally nice to my MIL and not cause waves.  R’s family, and basically the stronghold my MIL has on them, is the source of 80% of our fights.  Other than that – as it has always been – we are a great couple who really enjoys one another.

Pre-marriage I kind of put up with the MIL as is.  I figured things would change somewhat post-marriage, and although they have, my MIL still ends up being a huge source of contention between R and I.

I remember her saying to R at the beginning of our marriage that she “doesn’t want to come between R and me.”  When I told my very quick and sassy friend this, he said “she just did.”  And that’s the best way to describe it.

R and I do OK fending MIL off right now.  It’s not ideal and it’s my belief that R should send stronger messages.  However, R sees them about half as much as he used to so I try to consider this progress and try not to push.  I do know he talks to his family almost every single day and that the dynamic, perhaps the most important thing here, hasn’t changed significantly.  Even R’s family comments on how he is his mom’s favorite.  My dad had a great response to this one… “What about her husband??”

I don’t know what to do sometimes.  Mainly I try not to think about it and be happy with the boundaries R has put in place.  The biggest issue for me is contemplating having kids — I think the dam is going to break for MIL and she will pressure R so hard.  She already acts like R is her main man around me –  she thinks it’s OK to  show affection with him around me but that R & I can’t show affection to one another  — I can’t imagine dealing with these behaviors when I have a child.  Will she think the baby is hers and R’s?  Will she use our child as ammo to further penetrate our lives?  How much pressure and stress can a couple take considering these questions?  I’d love to hear your thoughts dear readers.  Best, NK

More to come…

I remember when I started my blogosphere dialogue — does anyone remember the Colorblindcupid.wordpress.com blog?  It is now defunct (my suspicion it was taken down for privacy purposes) — but my journey began blogging with the ladies over there through some very meaningful, illuminating, and even sometimes heated dialogue.  Now and again I wonder what CB is up to, how her family is these days, how throughout the years she has grown/responded to her intercultural life.  Her writing often evoked some very strong feelings in me, but she has been one of the best, most crisp writers I have come across on the topic.

I assure you all that my journey certainly continues.  I remember D saying once (D are you still out there???) that as time goes on, you learn to accept and tolerate your own unique situation with your extended family more.  The players don’t necessary change, and you don’t even necessarily change, but you learn (and are sometimes forced to) accept.  Accept…

I’m happy to report that R & I have had a wonderful first year of marriage.  He is my best friend, and, our journey with his family and Indian culture certainly continues…

I’d like to keep this dialogue running.  Just wanted to shout out an initial hello!  Would love to hear from you all soon!

Day 8 – Now here’s where things start to get crazy (because, um, they totally weren’t already).  R and I thought this might be an “off” day where we could just chill and relax as the wedding would be at 4:21am the next day.  However, R’s mom comes into my room around 8am (which is sleeping in by Indian standards) and alerts me that it’s time to get up to put a chudidarh on.  Half way on she comes in again and says I need to put a sari on.  And then she comes in again and says a different sari because people want to see me in it.

What the reader probably hasn’t gotten from my laborious journal so far is the sense of chaos and disorganization the Westerner experiences in the Indian paradigm.  However, as many Westerner has put it, there is sort of an organization – or least some method to the madness – that does sort of keep the chaos in some sort of forward moving manner.  Time, events, and things planned, do not usually unfold in a linear way.  This is when I learned to sort of switch on “travel NK” or “zoned out NK.”  It works well.  R’s family can do as they please, do the things they like, and I just hang out for the ride!

Back to the story.  After several outfit changes and greeting of guests all day, the time of my gowri puja (the puja where the families seal the deal of the marriage) was still being contested.  Will it be at 5:30pm?  Will it be at midnight?  Who knows.  There was some debate as to when and if I could eat, and several showers and “undergarment” changes were also required throughout the day.  There was even talk of me having to sleep in the temple that night, so I was instructed to pack a bag (that I never needed because I ended up coming back).  Overall, I think everyone else around me may have been nervous as the big day was so close.  Or it was just another chaotic day on the Hindu marriage bus, no different than the rest.  In either case, I rolled, as usual, but I must say this was an extremely tiring day.  It felt similar to the brides lunch as I sort of felt I had to put on a show, and smile non-stop.  I was trying to hold it together, make the family proud, make R proud.

Anyway, my gowri puja happened at about 6:30 with L Auntie and D Uncle.  They became my Amma and Nana (mom and dad) after that.  They are really two of the kindest people I’ve ever met.  Amma has a very comforting and easy going presence – my dad notices this as well.  The was the ceremony where R’s family pundit (or ambassador of sorts) meets with my family and they give each other gifts and the gods offerings to again, “seal the deal” of the wedding basically.  Amma helped me through the ceremony and Nana gave me my first, real, concrete and positive feedback (besides R’s sister who is always amazing) after I finished repeating words in Sanskrit.  I have yet to figure out what I actually said but apparently I have pretty good repeating skills and the videographer noted they wouldn’t have to dub over this part in the wedding video.  Nana exclaimed afterwards, “That was excellent!  Great job  NK!”  I admit I’m a Westerner who loves positive feedback in situations where I’m unsure.  Heck, I’d argue that anyone appreciates it.  In India there tends to be more of an indirect, “through actions not words” communication style that I do occasionally pick up on as well.  I learn more and more as time goes on.

Anyway, after this puja I would be allowed to eat but not after midnight.  Sounded fair.  And, I could go back to the guesthouse and get a few hours of sleep.  Ataya hung out and chatted with me a little bit before I went to sleep.  It was nice.  I hope in some small way this big blondie from the U.S. had made her proud some how.  But there was still, even after all this, the wedding to get through.

Day 9 – Ataya woke me up at 1:00am to get ready for the 4am puja.  I was having major problems with my contacts as I had mendhi (henna) on my hands and the wee hours and putting in contacts just don’t make a good mix.  I lubed those contacts up and finally got them in without pain.  Then everything else sort of unfolded in a “did someone just wake me up at 1:30 am haze.”  A red sari was draped, I threw makeup on, a bindi was painted on my forehead, jewely placed, jasmine in hair placed, walking down stairs, a veil was put on at some point.  Everything was swirling around me but I was still inside – it was here.  The day was finally here.

We loaded up in the van, the other American girls in toe, and got to the “R Weds NK sign” in front of the wedding hall – it looked fabulous.  I walked slow, leading with my right foot as instructed by Ataya.  Most interesting was the veil held by Chris and Todd.  I most clearly remember R’s cousin S’s smiling face from across the veil.  I walked into the hall, could see R slightly through the veil.  Of all the things people needed, of all the twists, turns, drama, and commotion, the time was very near for the moment only R and I would share.  Maybe all of the craziness that lead up to it made it seem… all the sweeter?  All the more meaningful?  At the time I wasn’t thinking these thoughts – my mind was clear and I wanted one thing, the same thing I clearly wished with the red string years earlier: to marry Ravi.

I made it to the back of the stage and hung out with my dad.  Amma offered me some of the most kind and peaceful words I have ever received in my life.  I will carry them with me forever.  Soon it was time to walk to the stage to sit with R and my Indian parents.  The veil was back in place so that R still could not see me.

From here, the cosmos took over.  I remember the following things so clearly, yet they felt so surreal… all I can do is recount in sentence fragments…

My heart beating – racing when peeking at R through the veil.  Taking deep breaths in and out… saying to myself “remember to savor this… remember this view from the veil… hold on to these moments.”  I stared at R intently through the veil.  Eager and ready.  I was to give R a coconut, bananas, and other offerings from under the veil.  Our fingers touched… a zap of lightening!  My heart beat even faster.  Remember to breathe.  Excitement growing.  R’s feet are washed by Amma and Nana.  He looks so handsome, so regal.  R and I hold hands from under the veil – 1,000 volts of electricity shoot through my body!  Several more offerings to the gods are made, blessings given – my Amma and Nan know just what to do.  The moment must be getting closer… hands filled with betel leaf and the mixture of sweet and bitter spices.  We place our hands on eachother’s heads… the auspicious moment is upon us… the veil is lifted!  Drums beat wildly, bells chiming, sounds, everything, glaringly, wondrously amplified!  The priest instructs firmly “Stare deeply into one another’s eyes. Right now!”  We are fusing – becoming one at this very moment.  More drums, more bells, looking deep into R’s eyes, I smile, he smiles.  We are one.

Whew.  I need a break. (I mean before I write anymore – recounting that took a lot of energy!).

We hold with our hands on eachother’s heads while our family and friends come to shower us with blessing by throwing rice on our heads.  My dad is the first.  He tells R and I, “I love you both!”

Several others came up on stage to give us blessings and good wishes.  From here we did several more things:

There was a rope tied around my waist symbolizing something I am unsure of, I touched my toe to seven stones symbolizing various promises to R, also we walked three steps around a fire – yes a fire pit was created on the stage – symbolizing more promises R and I will make to one another as man and wife.  The Mungal Sutra was also placed.  This is a gold necklace that is make of two plates with a jewel in each center.  They actually resemble a woman’s breast as they are to grant fertility.  The Mungal Sutra is sort of the like ring in Western culture, but let’s be honest, it’s a little cooler J.  We had a great time showering one another with blessing as well by pouring gobs of rice over eachothers’ heads – it was so much fun!  Aunties behind us were shouting “Slow down!”  Others shouted, “Hurry up!”  I had to chuckle at this.  R also gave me a wonderful surprise when I was passed a little slip of paper with a few sentences of the Catholic marriage vows on them.  We read out loud these vows which was just totally awesome.  R’s cousin shouted “Read them again for the camera!” to which I replied a resounding “No!”  I’m sure my graceful reply was caught on camera J.  We actually tied these paper slips with the vows written on them into my sari and R’s scarf that joined us together.  There was a moment where I touched R’s feet which was humbling reminder that I am to  take care of him.  We were also lead outside by the priest for him to show us our star – a good one I am told called Anuradha.  R’s dad called us to get in the car because he had a scheduled viewing f the idol – Sri Venkateswara.  But we hadn’t exchanged rings yet, so we did and then threw rice and milk up to the starts as another offering to the gods.

We were then quickly whisked by car to the holy Balaji Temple where the god Sri Venkteswara resides.  This means that the actual god is present as we was human and turned to stone.  There is a long and fascinating story that accompanies Lord Venkateswara, one that best learned about at the actual temples website: http://etirupati.com/mytho.htm.  In short it is visited by more pilgrims than the Vatical (30,000 visitors per day perhaps) and is a very hold place for newly married couples to visit together to receive blessings.

The temple was astounding.  We had to fight through some crowds with a family friend even though we were technically being fast-traced since we were newly married.  When we got to the idol we got a special viewing where the opened a set of gates that lead way to a closer viewing of the god.  We were able to pray and receive blessing from the priest and spend an extra few precious moments with idol lavished in gold and diamonds.  We were in the presence of a god and it felt like it.  Before we knew it we were rushed out of the temple and were able to look at the surrounding religious objects and so on.  This is where my pesky contact problem really started to flare again.  I felt like I had razor blades in my eyes because they got so dry and irritated from smoke, lack of sleep, etc.  I made it through another blessing by priests at the temple and needed those contacts out.  When we went back to the guesthouse there wasn’t a key for the door where my contacts & glasses were kept so I was stuck.  And, in the true spirit of the sacred and profane bumping up right next to each other, the wedding festivities were over.  Just like that.  After some more commotion I eventually got the key, peeled the contacts off my eyes and started dismantling all of my wedding gear, jewelry, and things like sticky spices placed upon me throughout the puja.  Reflecting back I wish the end had went a bit smoother – but after everything (read: the previous eight days) we had went through, we had done just enough to plop over that marathon line.  It was over, just like that, nothing left.  It was a relief… but was I also feeling, a bit sad?

It would take us days, weeks, and I’m sure will take the rest of our lives to process everything that had happened over these nine days.  They were ordinary and extraordinary, challenging and illuminating, bitter and sweet, and of course, wrapped entirely in both the sacred and not-so-sacred.

Our duties were not fulfilled without a visit to his grandmother (his dad’s mother) around a town called Vizag.  We packed up our things in the holy Tirupati and headed out mere hours after the wedding back to Hyderabad.  We then said farewell to my dad who would be flaying back to the states the next day.  I felt so blessed and proud to have him with me.  It is an experience that will join our hearts forever and one I am so very thankful for.  R and I were able to spend our wedding night in a lovely hotel in Hyderabad called Novohotel.  The next day we met up with R’s immediate family and went to Vizag and drove about 1.5 hours to his family farm.  We visited his grandmother where she gave us blessings in the form of rice on our heads as well.  The farm and R’s dad’s family were wonderful, hardworking people and such folks reminded me of my own family a bit (staunch Germans).  We spent the day doing this, a bit more time with R’s family in the evening, and then we were able to honeymoon in Kerala the next day and then for about nine nights.  The honeymoon was pleasantly laid back and not worth journaling too much about.  We spend a few great nights on a houseboat touring the back waters of India, on tea plantation, and finally, the Leela hotel.  Overall we recuperated and reconnected – it was just great.

************************************************************************

Writing all of this out has even made me tired!  The first few days after I got into India and was able to observe the flow and pace of things in a way I had never been able to do before in regards to R’s family and culture.  I told R that I realized in part why he wanted me to come to India so badly.  There were a few things about R that I had tried and struggled to and tried so hard to understand, and when I was there, I needed to do just that – go there. I quickly realized that I needed to see his India to truly understand him.  And he reinforced how it is all so difficult to explain.  It felt like finally being able to fill in those last pieces of the puzzle – it was very rewarding and complete.  I am incredibly thankful to have had this experience so early on in our marriage.

The first time I traveled to India I understood and loved India as a Western backpacker filled with wanderlust and awe.  The second time I traveled to India I began to understand what it means to be a sister, daughter-in-law, granddaughter, cousin, auntie, and true member of a traditional Indian family.  The latter will likely take a lifetime of learning.  Throughout this new journey I will hold in my heart the words of two beloved members of R’s family: “Whatever you do [in terms of learning the language, how to cook, and adopting other cultural aspects into my life]… make sure you do it in a peaceful way.  Come to it all calmly.  Do what feels right in your heart… do it all out of love.”

Finally, the otherworldly aspects of the experience…are hard to describe.  The memories and impressions I have are something like trying to run with slime covered water balloons in your hands – difficult to get a handle on – yet totally real, tangible, and demanding of all your senses.  Doing pujas are very participatory acts.  You handle different substances, like tumeric (yellow colored) which has cleansing properties, and vermillion (red colored), drink holy water, touch one another’s hands, the marriage necklace is placed, you stare into one another’s eyes, you received blessings, you toss rice, you touch the elders’ feet out of respect, you stoke the sacred fires (literally burning in a fire pit before you), you smell the incense, the fire, and the list goes on and on.  The pujas are very engaging and real yet you aren’t entirely sure what’s going on sometimes – which is totally acceptable.  There are, after all, ineffable cosmic forces at play here.  R and I will have years to mine our marriage puja for insight, strength and meaning.  One need not understand it all at once.

The entire experience felt like tapping into something much larger and grander than Ravi and I could ever fathom being as mere mortals.  It was like somehow accessing, or poking a hole into this giant, endless – something – hovering above us and then being showered by its greatness, its completeness, and pure love.  It became apparent how small Ravi and I were as individuals, how useless our personal agendas, needs, and wants were as such grand and cosmic forces gripped and transformed us.  And we are not unique in this regard, either.  We were now a part of the greater Hindu family – joined in the same tradition billions have done thousands of years before us. Our duty now is to be better versions of ourselves, to honor and cultivate such blessings throughout our lifetime together.  We must now do right by the gods, right by the forces that showed us a glimpse of their true and most perfect form on this auspicious day.

Friends — I have much to share.  Lots of new and exciting life decisions have been made by R and I and we are actually preparing for a move across country.   Many, many new changes.  In short, I’ve decided to end this blog here for reasons of practicality (i.e. won’t have time to write much) and also for personal reasons.   R and I have entered a whole new chapter and I feel drawn to a entirely new, and very personal, way of continuing to engage in the questions, problems, and insights that arise between us across cultures.  I have loved meeting so many of you over the past few years — I began bloggin in the first few months of our relationship, years back, and look where R and I have landed!  Thanks for stoping by, reading and sharing your thoughts.  I wish everyone in an intercultural relationship the very best and many blessings — I will certainly give you a very special nod on the street for the rest of my life .  So here goes for my last few posts.  This is Day 1 – 7 of what we now call The Great Hindu Wedding Adventure!

As I flip through my journal recapping the events of our 10 day affair I really can’t believe… all that happened!  So much was packed into these few days and I learned so much about R.  I think I learned more about him in 4 days in India than I have in 3.5 years in some ways. 

All in all, it was an amazing experience.  It was a once in a lifetime opportunity to really learn about R’s culture and experience all the richness and intricacy of the traditional Hindu wedding ceremony.  It was something we both will surely never forget.

Day 1 – landed at midnight in Hyderabad, India.  R’s cousin, V greeted us at the airport and took us back to R’s parents apartment there.  By the time we got in, everyone was up and getting ready for the day (days typically start at around 5:00 am in India).  We were greeted by several aunties, cousins, and other family members.  I was feeling pretty good as I had some decent sleep on the plane.  R’s mom (my Ataya) had already purchased several Indian outfits for casual wear throughout the days.  These were mostly chudidars and salwar kameezes.  The aunties seemed happy with how they looked on me and I felt very comfortable in them as well – it’s sort of like wearing pajamas!  We had some delicious Indian food as well.  R, A (R’s brother in law), V and later went to an upscale Indian clothes store called Origins where we looked for wedding kurtas for R.  We found a few leads, but not the kurta.  I then went with several aunties and other ladies shopping for my wedding sari.  I learned that you can’t pick just any wedding sari, but it has to be a pure silk one woven by hand as it is of the highest quality.  You may be able to find more glittery looking sari’s but you not find one of higher quality I learned.  I was given the option of choosing a pink or red sari.  After three stores and about 100 sari viewings (this is actually quite efficient – I hear that one cousin went to 35 stores before her wedding) I picked sort of a cranberry colored one that everyone seemed to like.  We then went back to the bustling apartment.  Shortly after this some cousins and I were carted off to a family friend’s house to sleep (M’s place) for the night.  It was a good day – great to meet so many family members.  I still had my adrenalin going at this point and jet lag hadn’t kicked in… yet.

Day 2 – This day was the big, crazy, “NK needs a time out”, shopping day.  The day started off well.  Woke up at I went with my sister-in-law and cousins to the old part of Hyderabad, Charminar, to get bangles.  There is an entire “bangles section” of the city.  We also needed to get some additional things – like hair clips and whatnot.  Anyway, after we were done with our painstaking search for the right bangles, a mid-day monsoon hit!  The streets were flooding and the rains were coming down hard.  The bangle store man gave us plastic bags to wear on our heads which looked pretty funny.  As we waded through the flooded streets (up to out knees!) one girl commented on how she saw feces floating down the river!  After we waited out the rain as long as we could we got back into the car.  I thought we were going home but 1, 2, and then I think three stores later (and after about 18 hours of shopping in 2 days), I requested a “time out!”  We quickly stopped at yet another store and then got back to the apartment.  Here’s where sensory overload his: from non-stop shopping, jet lag kicking in, and tons of people everywhere in the apartment I’m stressed and anxious.  Eventually I get back to M’s house in my own little room (whew, relief) knowing full well that only day three awaits (oh, boy).  I did a lot of journaling that night – pretty overwhelmed with everything.  R tried to make sure I had everything I needed… but it was just very overwhelming.

Day 3 – R came to wake me up with the suggestion that we go out to lunch together alone.  My brain was spinning and overwhelmed, so this seemed to make sense.  When I went to check my email, I found out that my grandmother had passed away.  All in all, it was a tough morning.  R took me to St. Joseph’s Catholic Church to say a prayer and collect my thoughts.  St. Joseph’s was a beautiful space where we enjoyed peace and calm.  I said a prayer for my grandmother and for my mom.  R appreciated the way the saint statues were adorned with garlands similar to how the Hindu saints are. 

Learning more about one another’s faith and spirituality was one of the highlights of the trip.  At no time did I feel R’s faith conflicted with mine and vice versa.  As I describe later, I learned that Hinduism did nothing but enhance and strengthen my own faith. 

After these cherished moments of quiet with R we headed back to the apartment where it seemed to be unusually quite.  R’s family offered me condolences and we were able to relax a while before attending R’s cousins engagement party.  After the engagement party we went to the airport with R’s dad to pick up my dad and R’s friends.  

Seeing the Americans come in off the plane, looking fresh from their showers and rest taken in Bombay, was a treat.  It was great to see the gang and welcome them to India.  A few of R’s friends waited with us to greet my dad as he was about to come in off the plane.  We all eagerly awaited his arrival, anticipating how he would look/feel after the biggest trip of his lifetime.  In true form, my dad came out of the airport high fiving people and helping women with their luggage.  He looked pretty good and had met quite a few people along his journey already.  We were taken to a guesthouse where we would stay for the next three nights.  We ended a hard day with good thoughts, good feelings.

Day 4 – R went to show the Americans a famous fort and I opted to stay back and introduce my dad to R’s family.  I thought I was actually reducing stress/coordination this way but it turns out the family had to scramble for rides these way.  Sorry everyone!  Just trying to help!  My dad and I were eventually picked up by D (R’s sister) and V (R’s cousin).  I introduced him to the family and had some great breakfast foods of idly and sambar.  V agreed to take my dad and I on a autorickshaw ride to the Burla Temple which turned out to be closed.  We made due and had a look at the various statues of world leaders.  We saw the Buddha in the water, too.  V was a wonderful guide and we were very thankful for his time.  That night we had a party at the farmhouse where the Americans were staying.  I think my dad enjoyed seeing a farm with mango trees and such in India.  R and I were pleasantly surprised to find a cake which we fed to each other.  Also, notably, I almost stepped on a huge scorpion scurrying across my path!  I should mention that the day previous I got an electric shock by trying my luck with a faulty outlet, and you’ll read on day 5 how I dropped fire on my sari.  Things happen in threes, yes?!

Day 5 -  And amazing day here.  I was taken to M’s house for my “Making of the bride puja.”  This is where I invoke the female goddess Lakshmi and embody her spirit as I proceed through the Hindu wedding ritual.  Timing was important for this ritual as well in that I needed to have certain rituals done at certain times to properly invoke the female goddess.  It was pleasantly quite at M’s house as everyone else was over at the apartment for R’s “making of the groom” puja.  My aunt, V, was helping dress me and to conduct the puja.  M’s was there as well as her mother and cousin to help.  Being dressed in the sari, sindoor placement, and gold jewelry placement was an absolute treat.  The sari was a gorgeous pick with lost of sparkly things, pinks and yellows looking very great with my color.  I truly felt like a princess and sort of reveled in people fussing about making everything on me look just right.  I never went to prom or anything like that, so this was a first.  At some point the Hindu priest arrived and I moved over to the area of worship in the house.  I was instructed to sit.  Then, M quicky urged, “Pray NK pray!”  At this moment, I laughed a little bit inside and thought of a book I read and how it stressed that Hinduism encompass both the sacred and profane.  I never had a real world example of this until I traveled India and furthermore experienced Indian culture as a family member, or perhaps honorary India as you will.  As the photographers lights flashed and flashed throughout the sacred ceremony the connection between the sacred and the profane couldn’t have become more real.  This idea would help me explain a lot of things in the next few days of religious ceremonies I was to experience.  Thousands of years old holy traditions and invoking of the gods often unfolded in the midst of every day chaos, drama, and even the mundane.  It kind of made me smile and think, “in no other religion can I imagine this happening… people shouting at you to repeat vows ‘for the camera,’ the camera flashing throughout the most sacred moments, and having aunties worry about fixing your sari whilst the holy mungal sutra is placed.”  In a way, it kind of all brings you back down to earth in the midst of all these otherworldly things unfolding around you.  And this is the stuff of life, right?  Love often unfolds in the midst of every day messes, the most perfect plans are botched by an act of nature, etc. etc.  We are all too human and only in India is this fully realized.  Only in India can the sacred and the profane sometimes breed the most perfect and surprising harmony. 

I digress, the “Making of the Bride Ceremony” (which I believe it is called directly) was very beautiful and meditative.  Notably, the pujas are very participatory where you are directly involved in touching various things, smelling, and even tasting.  Examples of this are breaking a coconut open which symbolizes the breaking of the ego (hard outer shell) to get to the good stuff inside.  Another is fanning flames of fire toward the picture or symbol of the god to invoke him or her.  After a series of other rituals involving touching and moving tumeric and other agricultural elements, I sat and sort of meditated on the image of Lakshmi in the form of a painted mask pinned up on the wall.  She was adorned with jasmine on this special day as well.  Meditating on the mask caused me to meditate on the female spirit I was invoking – it was quite powerful.  I was to embody the cosmic, grand feminine spirit on this day, and it was nothing short of a complete thrill and honor.

My dad arrived at the puja to offer blessings and I was instructed to drink the rest of a sweet item as we could not throw it away (it was an offering to the god).  We then went over to the family apartment to greet R post “Making of the Groom.”  When I arrived several family and friends were huddled around and checking out how I looked in my first formal sari.  R looked very handsome in a red tunic and we posed for several pictures and sat together at the front of the room for a while.  The family/friends at this point become sort of an audience and you just… sit there.  While sitting there I felt that R and I were recognized for the first time in front of the community.  This was a wonderful feeling that I had struggled to experience for so long.  I also learned how to say “Namaste” and touch feet and hands appropriately out of a sign of respect.  After a few hours or so we went to the “Making of the bride” luncheon.  We had excellent food here (yet again) and were photographed again by the desirazzi (that’s Telugu for paparazzi!).  I got to sit in a big, red chair and receive blessings from several folks as a bride to me.  Again, it felt so rewarding to stand next to R if only to take pictures.  It didn’t matter how we got there, but we were there, finally, viewed by his family and friends as the soon-to-be wife of R. 

Day 6 – This is the day I most distinctly remember as the day my dad said “I’m about to faint” in the car.  We had been driving out for about 20-30 minutes and I had a suspicion that my dad was not feeling well.  He refused to admit anything was wrong saying earlier, “Well I can sit in my hotel room and feel sorry for myself or I can just keep going.”  Keep going he did until his body told him, “stop!”  I gave him some Gatorade in the car and quickly got him back to the apartment where he rested for a while.  It was decided that he should hang back and not come on the overnight train to Tirupati.  He would fly into Tirupati with who would become his new best friend, R-M, in a few days.  R and I were able to see a museum in Hyderabad (Salar Jung Museum) for a short while and then we headed back to the apartment to get ready for the overnight train.  After a confusing period over what train car was actually ours, we settled into our train cars.  I slept pretty hard that night as I was generally tired.  I remarked how amazing it was that R’s parents are able to travel like this – with their grandkids!  I don’t think it’s something my parents would ever do.  R’s dad told me that his mom does this stuff all the time.  I was certainly impressed!

Day 7 – Woke up around 6, day light coming in, ready to exit train.  Washed face, brushed teeth, had breakfast with the aunties, and was ready to climb up to the holy Tirupati to visit a god turned to stone – Sri Venkateswara.  Not many people wore sandals up the sacred 3,500 mountain steps but it was allowed.  I felt slightly bad for not going barefoot, but my pancake like feet may not have made it up otherwise.  R and I had some precious quiet moments on the walk that I thoroughly enjoyed.  We say monkeys, deer, and sat under the banyon tree that R loves.  We saw that someone had written “I love you!” next to the tree which was cute.  We ran into a few pleasant folks, N and C, here and there on the way up.  The climb was surreal, beautiful, and not to mention some much needed exercise.   There were several statues of gods, and offerings to the gods along the way.  The climb with R was very memorable for both of us. 

After this we went to the guesthouse, showered, and then R went back to collect his friends.  I tried to sneak in a little nap with no luck thanks to a cute little new niece I have!  J  That evening we went to visit two other temples for blessings which were also incredible experiences.  We went to the Padmavathi temple – the wife of Sri Venkateswara.  R’s family and I all sat crossed legged around the idol Padmavathi while the priest put various things on our heads and we received blessings.  The temple seemed very old and historic.  It was a wonderful, prayerful time with R’s family and I really enjoyed it.  We also went to the more modern and ostentatious Hare Krishna temple where there was a showing of several gods adorned in gold.  There was more singing and dancing here.  It then started to downpour delaying our exit from the temple so we just hang around until it stopped.  After this, back to the guest house for some needed sleep.

I’ve known some of your for quite some time.  Years now, in fact.  We are a little community of mostly American women who are engaged to or married to Indian men, traditional or otherwise.  Other fabulous people have come across our blogs and given invaluable insight — Indian women who have had the same struggles as us even when married to another Indian of the same caste/language, women who are just starting to form a relationship with their Indian man, and finally, even some Indian men have come along who offer their insight.  However, over the past three years, I have noticed that these issues really affect women to their core.  When men write/comment/etc., it seems very detached, explanatory, or logic is often used to attempt to explain why Indian culture is the way it is.  For women, I have noticed there is a much more visceral, emotional response to families who have rejected us, challenge us in passive/aggressive ways we can’t quite put our fingers on, and families who refuse to hear our sides, or validate our life experiences.   Though some of you may not agree, I argue that women, for the most part, are the ones who really get hurt.

For the large part, the women who I have encountered on these message boards about Indian/American relationships have been open-minded, willing, curious, and have tried damn hard to work and compromise with Indian families.  Perhaps most significantly, I’ve noticed that the women I’ve met on the blogs seem to never give up — they keep at it, keep trying to make it work, again and again.   

I’ve worked really hard on my relationship with R.  As most of you know, R is from a very insular, traditional family that does not make much effort to learn new things or to really understand those different from them.  It has been a real struggle, and this blog is a place where I have spoken freely about those struggles.  When I started this 3.5 years ago I was much more open and willing to listen to their side.  But after much time, thought, and deliberation, I realized the likelihood of them changing is very slim.  Last week I was so frustrated and told my friend, “I’ve worked so hard and nothing has changed!  They still say the same ignorant things!  They still snub me!”  Without flinching, she looked at me and said, “But you’ve changed.”

I really let that sink in, “I’ve changed.” 

So, I’d like to tell you the ways I have changed since I met R and where we are now.  There have been ways R has changed too, and I know will be changing the future, but this is his work.  For the most part, with him, I have to be patient.  For now, let’s focus on my changing, as it is really the most control I have.

1.  I no longer feel the need to learn how to cook foods R’s family does, wear all the traditional clothes, speak Telugu, and overall “blend” in.  I’m never going to blend in, and no matter how much I try, and it’s truly never going to be good enough for R’s family.   More so, it threatens my own identity that I’ve basically worked my ass off for my whole life.  It was suggested to me that I be very careful about these aspects of taking in the culture and I now see why.  I don’t have to cook a curry or wear a bindi to be a good, decent person worthy of conversation and care.  I’m likable just the way I am — it’s the person R fell in love with — and I realize now I want to stay just that way.  If the spirit moves me to cook some Indian food, or visit temple, I will.  But I won’t do any of these things to please R’s family anymore. 

2.  I have learned how to say no.  When a cousin wants me to come out 2 weeks before my wedding and babysit her kids, or R’s family wants us to drive 8 hours two weeks after we saw them last, or if R’s mom says she wants to raise my kids, or if they need a big loan, I can say no then and there.   I am still practicing how to do this — so is R.  There will be a lot of no’s I will need to dish out in the future too.  I am not naturally a “no” person, but R’s family just asks so much of us.   So it’s something I have learned how to do and will need to continue to do.

3.  I can take time-outs.  Even though the Indian standard of showing respect in R’s family is camping out at someone’s house for hours on end, without talking a lot of the time, bored out of your mind, etc., I can take time-outs.  I can go and get coffee for a few hours (R’s family would probably love to be alone with him anyway) and just give myself needed space despite pressures or requests.

4.  Our house will be our house and our kids are our kids.  R and I will decide the rules and conditions around such. 

5.  There’s no need to hide the elephant in the room any more.  I’ve decided to just talk about differences as the come up — not sort of sweep myself under the rug as the white person anymore.  I can share my experiences, and where I come from, even if I don’t get the response I would like. 

6.  Empathy for those who have been rejected because of their race, color, or creed.  I never thought as a white girl from a small town that I’d be on the receiving end of prejudice and ignorance.  I thought I could just flit through life fighting these things without ever knowing how they truly feel.  I don’t know how it feels to be rejected by society at large because of who I am, but I do know how it feels to be rejected by your future family — an arguably more intimate, searing rejection at times. 

7.  That I’ve let R’s parents, family, and culture just take up too much of my mental mind space.  This is one I’m working on too, to let go, to accept things realistically.

7.  It’s so damn true that whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.  I really think R is the strong, compassionate guy he is for putting up with this kind of stuff his whole life — whether he knows it or not.   Going through this has made me tougher and I don’t sweat the smaller stuff as much anymore.  I have also cultivated a pantload of communication and relationship skills that I never dreamed I had.  There is something to be said for going through the fire, and coming out on the other end.  

And here’s stuff I’m still working on:

Since I started this journey I have met several lovely Indian elders who have asked open and curious questions about my relationship with R.  They have expressed that they know their children grew up in this modern culture, often have a hard time understanding their ideas, but would like to learn more, would like to listen.  I can’t help but be a bit resentful when I meet the more modern Indian family.  I feel like R’s family could have done the same or could do the same.  I feel like a more modern family would have embraced me more and acknowledged my sacrifices, willingness.  Again, I have to realize that this was not and is not my path.  My challenges, our challenges, are our own and I can’t think “What if…” anymore.  However, I am thrilled to know there are Indian elders out there who give me hope for the future — hope that intercultural relationships will be accepted more and more within the Indian community.

Lastly, to end on a positive, here’s the most important way in which I’ve changed:

I say with total conviction and truth that this is a love that has been hard-won.  R and I aren’t living some fantasy life in the movies, nor are we deluded that our challenges are going away.  We are well aware that we have toughed it through storms some couples never face in a lifetime.  And though we know there will be more challenges, we have something that is incomprehensibly special.  For that, I have a lot of gratitude and am honored to be R’s mate.  

*************************************************

I know some of you are dying to hear about the ACTUAL wedding (I know the FUN stuff — but come on blogs are about narcissism and brooding!! I kid…)  I will try and put something up re: our actual itinerary — it’s going to be NUTS — I don’t think I’m going to sleep for 8 days straight!

Things are going fine.  None of the players in terms of my in-laws, new family have changed, but I’ve changed.  I still struggle with what I’ve realized is their own fears of losing their son and using passive-aggresive means to preserve this — however conscious/subconscious  they are.  To boot, R is very slow to pick up on this.

For me, realistic acceptance is what I’m working on.  I will work on to changing me, to change my responses all the while maintaining the boundaries I have been clear on.  I will work to not be the victim anymore.

After the wedding R is no longer a son first.  He is a husband first.  And I am a wife first.  My family seems happy to propel me into this new life, but it is obvious that R’s family is still pulling at him, desperate for him to be the perpetual son/cousin/brother/etc.  R’s role will change drastically, whether they like it or not.  This is the reality. 

I have leaned on my family more in the past few months and realize they aren’t so bad afterall.  My dad offers really solid perspective without taking sides.  Seriously, he really loves R and sees the struggle with his family playing out.  My dad thinks he is a wonderful man, and that in the end, he’s going to go with me. 

As the growing pains continue and as we work to solidify a solid union protected from others, we take the most important step that unlocks the key for everything else: committment.

I jumped at the Tirupati idea early on because 1. I’ve been to India!  I know what I’m in for. 2. It will be so cool to get married in this way — how unique and interesting!  3. I’ll win major points with his family!  How could I not?! 4. Other people can plan it for me — no problem!  Takes stress off of me!

What I’ll say is that I haven’t landed where I thought I would (a common theme in intercultural relationships I am certain!).  Solo backpacking in India is VERRRRY different than staying with a community, your future family, and operating on their terms (which can be sort of stifiling and annoying).  His parents actually said, ever so nonchalantly, that they would have actually had the wedding in the US (!!?!??!?!).  Even though 200 of the guests will be theirs, and 90% of their friends are going/will be in India, they said they would have actually rather had it in the states.  And though it’s great to not have to worry about a pantload of minor things (photographer, decorations, etc.), it is not fun to be told what you will wear every day, where you can sleep, how to wear your make-up, your hair, that you need to give them money to buy a necklace because it is a part of their tradition, etc.   It’s also not fun to get zero props for what you are doing — R gives me props — but his family just kind of acts like it’s not big deal for me to turn over my wedding to them.  So basically, since we’ve gotten engaged (and R sister’s was the one to bring this up) I’ve had a list of orders barked at me by his family and not a whole lot of support or a smidgen of gratitude.  All the while, I don’t have big family support from my end.  So, in short, it hasn’t been all that swell.

So why I am doing all this?  As one of my good friends said, “Geez I thought it was going to be a simple ceremony on the mountain top.”  Sadly, I did too.

The good parts are that I know this is really something R wants.  I won’t have to go to work for three whole weeks, the wedding/family part is only 7 days, and I will have my dad and a few friends there.  Yes it is my wedding, and ideally I would have done something much, much more blended, but I committed to it 7 months ago.  And who knows, maybe it will end up being cool.  I do LOVE all the parts of the Hindu ceremony itself — I think it’s quite beautiful.  It just happens to be unfolding in the midst of a shitstorm .  In August we are having a reception at a fun brewery back here in the states and a Catholic blessing in a botanical garden — both of which I get complete control over.  So I guess this works.

Also, from what I gather about modern Hindu couples, this is the NORM.  I hear there are even worse engagment times where there are blow ups, disagreements, and uncertainty whether the wedding is even going to happen or not.  It could be much worse.

What I also take from it is advice I now have to give other people and ideas they might be able to use in planning their own intercultural wedding.  I would really say if you are a modern person and the family is uber-traditional you really can’t trust the family to know your needs or do things according to them.  Part of it is they just don’t understand how modern relationships work — where couples plan their own future together, communicate, and compromise.  To them, they are used to taking top-down orders from the priests/elders (much like they view I should) and implementing them.  Beyond that the “orders” from the elders/priests seem to be able to change on a dime which can leave one feeling very helpless and exasperated if you ARE trying to follow suit and show respect to their customs.  Not my cup of tea.

And, I need to remember, the wedding is only a snapshot of R & my relationship.  It’s not the definition of who we are and what we’ve worked so very hard for in our relationship.  I’ve really made it clear to R that we will not be doing things in the exclusive traditional Indian fashion long term by many means.  I already know it will be a while until we go back to India and again I have outlined my space/privacy needs for the future.

So everybody — send up prayers to the gods that I get through these next few months and can get back to the regular, chill life I so much enjoy with R!

To be frank, it hasn’t been all that easy.  There have been great, exciting moments, but probably more moments of stress, anxiety and just plain old figuring stuff out.  And I’m not talking about picking flatware and reception flowers.

For the majority of our engagment (7 months now) we have taken an even closer look at the tough issues and asked even tougher questions.  I say a ‘closer look’ because I think we both thought that we had squared a lot away before we got engaged…  

We’ve done all the Catholic marriage preparation (Foccus questionnaire, Pre-Cana class, met with two priests at least a few times), and consulted experts in navigating the terrain of our unique intercultural relationship (not to mention raising bicultural children).  At times this process has been very overwhelming, essentially though, it has been very helpful.

We’ve heard some really positive feeback regarding the prepatory work we have done.  Our family, friends, and other wise folks have told us that we are asking questions and confronting issues many couples don’t until after they are married.  Despite feeling overwhelmed and bewildered at times, we have been told that we are actually “ahead of the game,” and going into our marriage with “eyes wide open.”   I think we both have had doubts about how we are going to make it all work, but I do know that we have never doubted our love for one another.

This brings me to what I call settling into what I refer to as ”working compromises.”  Working compromises are things that neither of us are entirely happy with but have to compromise on to make our relationship work.   

The biggest issue, as most of you readers, my friends, and my family know is R’s realtionship to his very close, traditional family.  How he communicates with them, views them as participating in our lives, etc.

I’ve spent months (well years really) wading through many of my own feelings on this.  Guilt that I am not as “game” as his family is for sleepovers/chronic visits/general communal living, anger as they have been kind of cold in the past and haven’t seemed to make much of an effort to get to know me (this has since changed), confusion over what the heck is going on and what his family thinks of me, and finally sadness as I had to let go of some of my own dreams of inheriting a totally, loving, understanding, and supportive family from my husband.  For the most part, I have worked through these feelings… still some linger… and there will probably be new ones to come down the line, too.

For now, what we’ve landed on is that I realize his parents arent such bad folks at all — they just live a lot differenly than I want to.  I want to raise my own kids.  I want space & privacy.  To be very specific, I am really only comfortable if there are 2-3 months between weekend-long visits.  It took some time to come to this (i.e. we tried driving to another state to visit his family every 6 weeks and it was just too much). 

So there’s my comfort zone.  What about R?  R’s big thing has always been for me to try and understand them better — to see that they are not bad people.  To respect them.  Given that R is a big “pleaser” type of person to everyone, it just looked like he was appeasing them all the time and their behavior made it hard for me to respect them.  He recently admitted to me that he should have taken a harder stance with his parents earlier in the relationship but he didn’t because he was seeing progress from them and didn’t want to ruin in.  Sigh.  Some of that I have to let go of now…

So, where have we landed?

#1 We can have months between visits.

-But-

When his mom makes comments like “Oh we want to move right next to you when we retire!” and “I want to raise your kids while you go to school full time!”  I need to not totally shoot them down then and there.  And I haven’t done this — I usually just kind of smile nervously and get pissed at R later for them saying crazy things.  R assures me that  these things won’t come into fruition and that it’s just sort of his parents shooting for the moon.  He assures me that he has made no such promises to them and it’s just them and their dreams.  It’s sort of like the 3-4 times a week I sit on the couch and say “I want chocolate!”  — I know I can’t have it 4 times a week, and I don’t get it, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want it.     

#2 I can’t needle R about how weird/too traditional/not modern enough his family is.  Sigh (there goes a coping tool ).  I have to accept they are just doing their best and their way of being parents is to over-parent, care too much.   I have to be more respectful.

-But-

I still only have to deal with it a weekend every 3 months . 

 #3 I have to ask nicely when I want something — even if it’s something that really should be mine anyway (heh hem the ability to raise my own children). 

-And-

I will usually get what I request (my requests are mostly reasonable anyway, it’s just R does not respond well to aggressive, kind of negatively framed comments no matter how right I am — who does, I suppose). 

Which brings me to #4

I will get what I want

-But-

I have to use the similar type of kid glove communication style R uses with his parents (funny how things come full circle eh?).

****************

Being someone who is used to getting what she wants rather quickly and assertively, I’ve really had to re-think and compromise in the ways I get things done in my relationship with R. 

I think all along I’ve underestimated the power I have and the power R & I have had as a couple.  I’ve interpreted this sort of slow moving, “seems like no progress is being made” model as totally worthless and just a tool used to placate R’s parents.  R says he moved slowly so that there wouldn’t be any blow-ups or burned bridges.  I’d ideally like to see things happen faster, R to putz around a little less (something he’s become more aware of) and for more modern thinking in-laws.  But, essentially, they are good folks who just can’t quit parenting — they want to parent as if it was the traditional Indian south of 1862.  This is all new to me since my mom checked out when I was young and my dad takes more of a Western, individualized stance to parenting (well you’re 18 and an adult so good luck kid!).  R’s parents will still take some getting used to but they aren’t changing.  However, I’m not powerless.  I’m confident that R is a reasonable, smart guy, and *when I ask nicely,* I know we will be able to do what we want.  It’s mostly the “how it gets done” part that I have to compromise on.  In the grand scheme of things, I suppose it’s not so bad.    

********************

So there’s all the hard work we’ve been up to.  I know you’d all LOVE to hear about the more fun wedding planning stuff … so I promise to put something up about that, too.

-NK

Never in my wildest imagination did I think I could bring together earth, wind, fire and rain and it would be successful.

My parents met R’s parents for thie first time this past weekend and it went surprisingly well.  My mom, who often behaves badly, did OK given her chronic world-revolves-around-me-itis.  Most surprising was R’s parents — I seriously wanted to ask “Have we met?!”  They were most courteous, pleasent, easy to converse with, and understanding.  They laughed and even made some jokes.  I was even getting along better with R’s mom than my own throughout the meal.  I remember thinking, ‘over a year ago they she was running away from me…’

I’m still trying to figure out what the heck happened — but I think it’s a good sign.

Besides that, I spent a lot of time actually talking with his family this past weekend (prior to the parents meeting).  More than anything, R’s parents just want to be included in our lives, a bit too included, but they have good intentions I now beleive.  Despite our communication barriers, misunderstandings, anger, and strife in the past, I don’t think they have ill will.

For the first time, in years, I think I fully understand the true nature of the beast.  Our challenges will be to make them feel incorporated in our family, ensure they have distinctive roles, and to keep them feeling respected.  How this plays out will be the struggle.  R seems to think it can still work given my need for more personal space a boundaries. 

Throughout all of this, I still wonder about R and I.  Our relationship.  So much of our struggles revolve around his family and their involvement.  What about us in all this?  At what point can we put the family inclusion/incorporation/respect issues to rest… and just be a couple? 

Researchers point toward Hindu couples dealing with these issues on a life-long level, in-laws being the number one thing they fight about. 

How do I shift the focus back on, and permanently on… us?