The American-Indian teenager, born to NRI parents looks like any of us. It is only when he starts talking that his accent and body-language betray his nativity. It is not easy for him on this trip to India to attend a cousin’s wedding. Though he finds everything “awesome”, the culture-shock numbs him. His challenges are many; none greater than this one- navigating through a South Indian wedding lunch served on a banana leaf.
The food is now arrayed all over the banana leaf. It is a typical South Indian special- vegetables, colored-rice, vadai, pickle, avial, poli, jaangri and endless items that keep coming. Without his spoon, fork and cereal bowl, our teenager is all at sea! His neighbor eggs him- “See! It is easy, my boy! You pick up rice with your fingers and eat like this!” Words of encouragement all right, but not for the teenager. It is as if, he has been suddenly thrust into the cockpit of an airplane and told to fly it on his own! His NRI mother sits at the next leaf. She has coached him to a point, but not for this eventuality.
Gingerly, he uses his fingers to pick up one grain of rice at a time. At this rate, the next Ice Age will set in, his mother tells him! He reaches out for simpler items like “pappadam”. He grips the entire disk with both hands and takes one big bite. The crackling bits fly all over and some take a parabolic path right into the neighbor’s leaf three rows away! Couple of children, sparkling in their silk “pavadais” watch this spectacle from the opposite row and giggle!
He consults his mother and the best option appears to ask for a spoon. Word goes around quickly, and multiple people scramble to check for a spoon, but there is none. The closest to a spoon is the ladle used to serve sambar! The mother is quick to shoot down the idea. She feels it will look too silly, as if he was Ghatotkacha eating with a ladle! For the moment, he has to manage with his fingers.
Servers are in a tearing hurry. They have a job on their hands with hundreds of people at the lunch table. If there is no alert reaction from the person, they will pour a liter of hot sambar on the banana leaf before they move to the next one. It is here that the teenager’s skills are found wanting. The sambar swirls like the raging sea in a Tsunami; it engulfs the rice mounds and overflows right out of the banana-leaf, straight into the teenager’s lap! It all happens in a split second and there is no time to react. “Mom! What am I supposed to do? It is flowing all over!” Mom is now angry. “You cannot just sit doing nothing!” she screams.
Relatives are quick to comment, “This is exactly why you should come to India more often! How will he otherwise learn our customs?” If only Mom had brought his favorite peanut-butter sandwich, she could have saved herself from all this embarrassment. She mutters under her breath, “I am never coming to India again. Even if I come, I will come on my own. The kids can bond with their father back in the US and watch their Super-Bowl matches on TV!”
Where is the NRI father? The father was last spotted in the same wedding hall, in a totally different corner, unmindful of all this commotion. He was busy in a conversation on driverless cars in the US and how they would navigate through obstacles like cows on Indian roads! He is ignorant that the clouds in his horizon are darkening by the minute and knows not what awaits him once he reaches home! Till then, he can continue talking!
No comments:
Post a Comment