fortunately, my wife and i have been to india as a married couple before. i say "fortunately" because i doubt that i would have suggested the move to india if i hadn't yet experienced the country in all of its glory and decadence. then again, a quick trip to india might be all that most people need to warn them off the country for the rest of their lives.
this life, anyway...
we were married march 4, 2006 in a small, tight ceremony that was performed by my uncle at an italian restaurant. my uncle received his certificate of ministry over the internet at our request and had prepared a really funny and sweet ceremony. we put the entire shebang together over the course of about six weeks, and, by the time the wedding day arrived, we were more relieved than nervous. her parents, siblings and extended family all managed to make it on such short notice, and my family, never having made it out of chicago, had no excuse not to be there. the stark contrast between the two sides of the wedding party could not have been more stark without some surprising coupling between a dog and a cat.
p remarked in amazement that we, as white people, apparently wear the same suits to weddings as we do to funerals. it's astounding, but i had never noticed this very obvious and very simple fact until she pointed it out to me. there was my side, dressed in dull grays and light black suits, with the occasional maverick fashionista deciding to throw everyone a curve ball by daring to sport a red tie.
gasp.
her side, on the other hand, sauntered in at a typically late desi time, dressed to the t in brightly-colored saris and fashionably sharp salwar kameez. there were brilliant reds and oranges, vivid greens and blues, intense yellows and dazzling purples moving effortlessly around the room. after ten minutes in the banquet room, we simple white people were suffering from the kind of sensory overload that is usually reserved for hastily-planned excursions to las vegas. it reminded me of the pictures that you see of hong kong at night, the neon lights ubiquitous and the streets filled with what seems to be one undulating and oozing mass of humanity.
the wedding was a huge success, as people seemed to enjoy themselves and we got married. and that's about all you can ask for from a wedding, right?
in the weeks after the wedding, as we slowly grew accustomed to referring to each other as husband and wife in our conversations with others (and that was, for me at least, the strangest and most difficult part of being married), p also began to plan a trip to india for the two of us. her grandparents were aging and were periodically sick, particularly her maternal grandfather. she wanted me to meet him before he passed away, so we bought tickets to delhi for early august, packed our bags, and departed.
now i've travelled quite a bit, particularly when you consider that i've spent most of my adult life in abject poverty and without any tangible goals in mind. when you have no ambition and no marketable skills combined with a native fluency in english, travelling is the perfect substitute for what your parents call "adult life." i've lived in ecuador twice, the first time when i was nineteen and considering dropping out of school when i stayed for about six months drinking and studying spanish, and then again when i was twenty-four, this time to teach english and practice my spanish a little bit more. and i've also lived in taiwan for a year, a move inspired by a deep and unexpectedly moving experience while watching yi-yi, a wonderful movie set in taipei by edward yang.
living abroad as a young man, one sees and learns things that wouldn't otherwise occur, both inside and outside of oneself. i think that i learned about myself and grew and matured during these trips, and felt that i had encountered different cultures and peoples and new lifestyles and histories and the whole experience was absolutely exhilarating.
but nothing approached the "foreign-ness" that i encountered in india.
the plane ride was atrocious as expected, but the wait in customs wasn't long or disorderly and we were able to walk out into the screaming throngs of people awaiting the arrival of loved ones with the excitement and fervor usually reserved for pre-pubescent groupies of rock-and-roll bands. p's friend karan, n.k.a. chappu, had arranged for us to be picked up by one of his drivers and taken to his sprawling mansion of a house. (how could you not love a country where people have drivers and houses full of servants?)
we arrived at his house, showered, ate and attempted, without much luck, to pass out. the next day - my first full day in india - was spent at her uncle's house in delhi, where we met up with her father, her sister and assorted friends and acquaintances. then it was off to the domestic airport with her father and a short flight to ahmadabad, the largest city in gujarat. we stepped down from the plane on one of those quaint moving staircases, boarded the bus back to the terminal, managed to find our suitcases somewhere on the conveyor belt and got into the van that was waiting to take us to her paternal grandfather's house.
being indian and accustomed to sleeping in uncomfortable positions and strange places, p and her father were soon dead to the rest of the world. i was too tall for the seats and my legs were cramped in with the suitcases and assorted garbage inside of the van, so there was no chance for me to sleep. but as i rode in that silent van, watching the darkness slowly overtake the sun on the horizon, i was able to see india for the first time. i sat with my head leaning against the tinted glass of the back seat, listening to the symphonic snoring from my wife and her father, watching the dirt roads slowly melt into transnational highways and impromptu shanty towns that improbably sprung up over the barren landscape. little naked children strolled through the pothole-marked streets, entirely unconcerned at their own nudity, their mothers sometimes paying attention to the children, sometimes engaged in various other activities. the men strolled down the streets hand in hand, a display of affection and closeness that i had never observed among men and never expected to see in such a darkly homophobic country. the trucks and buses whizzed down the streets, sometimes veering onto the makeshift shoulders of the roads, sometimes simply weaving in and out of traffic, apparently oblivious to the scent of death that hung on all of india's roadways. horns honked, headlights flashed on and off, chewed wads of paan went flying from open windows, children laughed and cried, and the night seemed to go on forever.
i fell in love.
p's grandfather is named chimanbhai. bhai means "brother" and is a common suffix for male's names. to his grandchildren - among whom i could now count myself - he was simply referred to as dadaji, dada meaning "grandfather" and ji a ubiquitous title of respect. his house was more like a compound, a personal gated community in which several members of his family had homes.
the entire seven days in vidyanagar, gujarat went by in a blur of handshakes, food, forced smiles, food, sneaking smiles to servants (you're not supposed to treat the servants like human beings, the wisdom goes, because that's equivalent to spoiling them...) and wonderful indian hospitality.
and food.
i met her maternal grandfather, indubhai, and was lucky enough to have sampled his wife's delicious food. a good thing, too, that i got to meet him, as he passed away this past december. i feel extremely lucky that p had the opportunity to show me off before he passed away, as a married indian woman is considered to have fulfilled one of her two main duties. (i don't think we'll be getting around to her other duty anytime soon, that of bearing children.)
the morning of our return to delhi, the little servant girl that had developed a crush on me worked up the nerve to ask me in her broken english, "when... you... come... next?" i looked at her, delighted in her pride at having spoken these words, and promised her that i would be back in one year.
one year.
that's in less than two months.
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