Conforming, the win-win-win way.

This evening, running late for a movie, I take a cab. Balkar Singh, the cabbie, is a polite sort. Starts the conversation by asking if I am from India. Can’t exactly deny this, so I agree. We go on to establish that I’m from the South and that he’s from the north. So far, the conversation happens in a mixture of broken Hindi and broken English. No subtitles. Then comes the question, “So, do you live around here?”

From my considerable experience in these matters, I know that this question is one of those select few that automatically turn on subtitles inside the heads of inquirers, irrespective of the language in which the conversation is happening. If I say yes, it comes out as “wastrel” or “rich bitch” when translated, depending on who’s doing the translation. Since am not in a mood to feel defensive or offer justifications, I decide to play. I say no, I was visiting a friend. So where do I live? After a quick pause, I say “Newport.” He asks, “Where is that?” (Now this surprises me, and am glad I picked a place that I’ve actually been to) Before I start going into PATH schedules, he moves on. “So”, he asks, “going to watch a show, eh?” Since I’ve asked him to take me to the Lincoln Center, it makes sense to agree. He goes on, “Show first, phir dinner… maybe some drinks-shinks, eh?” I’m starting to get offended, but smile and shrug.

Maybe he is somewhat sensitive, for he changes tack, “You work in the city, yes?” I nod. “Wall Street?” I continue to nod. Then comes another seemingly innocent question, “Is your family here only?” I say no, the family is in India. I should have seen this coming, for god knows I’m asked it often enough. And am just cursing myself for stepping into that trap, when it predictably snaps, “So are you married?” But this time, I’m prepared. I say “No, but am going to be married.” There’s an imperceptible tremor as the world starts to right itself.

“Soon?”

“Very soon,” I reply.

“Marrying an Indian?”

A pause, as I wonder just how far I want to go with this. I’m tempted to be outrageous, but decide to take it slow, since this is my first time inventing a fiancé, “Yes.”

I appear to have made the right choice. “Ah good. Indian is always best. Some people, they marry these whites. No good. They don’t take anything seriously. So many divorces…”

I let him carry on, nodding along and offering further evidence of my new status as a “good Indian girl”. He continues to approve when I tell him that the wedding will be in India. He asks when I will go back to India, and I tell him the fiancé is going to move here. Oh, he asks, so the fiancé is not here? Another pause, I say “No. He goes to school in…. <mentally short list suitable American cities> Boston.”

“Ah Boston. I was there only last week. Harvard?”

Once again, I’m deeply tempted. But decide to play it safe. By now, I’ve started to actually enjoy this, so it’s easy to smile as I say, “No. Not Harvard. Boston University.”

“That is also a good university,” he consoles me. I agree, “Yes. He’s looking for a job here, and will hopefully find one by the time we get married.”

Before I have to make up other details (am short listing possible professions in my head now), we arrive at my destination. I get out, and he tells me “Get married. Soon.” I laugh, and hope he’ll mistake it for a bride-to-be’s blush, and promise him I will.

As he drives off smiling, I start to feel a twinge of guilt for lying to this nice man. But then, I remember the drinks-shinks comment. From a slut out on an evening of debauchery it took very little to turn myself into a nice Indian girl engaged no doubt to an equally nice Indian boy. Any guilt I might have felt is smothered by the satisfaction of finally conforming to someone’s idea of what I should be doing with my life, even if that someone is a rank stranger I will likely never meet again. And this way, no one loses. The stranger goes away with the satisfaction that there is one less freak in the world. I don’t feel angry or defensive. And the fiancé, well, he just got himself a Wall Street woman.

So much for strangers. If only I could come up with a suitable response for friends. These are the people who know that if I spent an evening in that part of town, it was probably spent watching some movie with subtitles (and they aren’t wrong. Danton was the object of this evening’s adventures). What these friends (with minor exceptions) don’t understand is why I choose to throw precious hours away on celluloid men with unpronounceable names (btw, if any one knows how to do this one “Wojciech Pszoniak”, please let me know), when I could have so easily spent those hours on the internet, “expressing interest” in nice boys who, for all we know, are about to graduate from Boston University. My response, “and trade Robespierre for that?” I know will not please them.

Perhaps, I’m being paranoid. Mr. Singh might have simply thought that chatting me up will lead to a better tip. But I can’t help thinking that men, desi or otherwise, don’t feel the same pressure, if at all they are subjected to this sort of grilling-by-strangers in the first place. Or perhaps 30-something men have their own demons to slay. But that’s another post, for someone else to write.

Later in the evening, I have dinner by myself, musing about my Boston hero. The introduction of a fiancé, even an imaginary one, can apparently work wonders with more than just cab drivers. The fortune from my cookie is more interesting than the usual drivel, “Look around yourself. Your answer is nearby.” At a table for one? You bet. The answer is very much around myself.

Written By DoZ in My Life on August 4th, 2007

Comments (12 comments)

Errr…don’t you mean conforming?

And for future reference, the right response when someone says “Harvard?” is to put on your most condescending tone of voice and say, “No, MIT.” Not only is it more snobbish, it also fits the pattern better. The only thing better than a good Indian boy is a good Indian boy with an engineering degree.

Falstaff / August 5th, 2007, 12:36 am / #

Yes conforming! And not once, but twice! Gad, am ashamed… Thank you for catching that…And also for the MIT tip. You’re right. The engg. pre-requisite hadn’t occurred to me.

DoZ / August 5th, 2007, 10:41 am / #

:) Nicely written. Since I am one of those odd desis who chose to come back to India after 4 years in the US, I keep getting asked by NY cabbies whenever I visit, why? I usually tell them that the thayir vadai just doesn’t cut it in the US.

Krish Ashok / August 7th, 2007, 11:21 am / #

Thank you :) And boy do thayir vadai’s suck here… I’ve had sweet versions of thayir vadai so often that I no longer order this anywhere. Offering mor-kuzhambu in the name of ‘kadi’ is one thing - but to make the thayir vadai combo sweet is evil beyond my comprehension.

DoZ / August 7th, 2007, 2:52 pm / #

“What these friends (with minor exceptions) don’t understand is why I choose to throw precious hours away on celluloid men with unpronounceable names (btw, if any one knows how to do this one “Wojciech Pszoniak”, please let me know),”

They have’nt figured out yet that you are a freak?!!

Vijay / August 8th, 2007, 4:51 pm / #

Nice post, and one that resonates! I get grilled by Indian cabbies pretty much often in the US and the conversation runs on predictable lines (being a guy it is different from the direction your grilling takes). However, it is harmless conversation mixed with some age-old biases which you find among those who have moved out of India a decade or more back. You would get into similar conversation with rickshaw drivers only in smaller Indian cities.

Traveller / August 9th, 2007, 9:19 am / #

You work in Wall Street?

i / August 9th, 2007, 1:01 pm / #

Traveller : Thank you. I’m curious about what men get asked. Are you asked about your jobs? About money? Never faced this in India though. To be fair, the only rickshaws I take are autos in Madras, and there both of us are too busy trying to figure out ways to fleece / pitiful attempts at bargaining that the question of personal life doesn’t arise. Who’d have thought there was anything positive about an auto ride in Madras? But go figure, I just found one :)

DoZ / August 9th, 2007, 2:51 pm / #

I: Umm, no. I notice that you read another post . So it shouldn’t come as a surprise that am a compulsive liar…

DoZ / August 10th, 2007, 10:43 am / #

Doz: Yeah, mostly job related. And the usual conversation bitching about their host country: how they would love to be back in India because X, Y, Z was so much better back in India, but the money is good here, etc.

Re: ‘Pitiful attempts at bargaining’ heh! That’s a very Indian thing. When I go out to buy vegetables, I will negotiate for free green chillies and coriander. :)

Traveller / August 14th, 2007, 1:14 pm / #

Onlu BU vva just like our Abhishek Bacchan.

jillumadrasi / August 20th, 2007, 8:23 pm / #

http://www.badindiangirl.com

:)

A fellow New Yorker / February 4th, 2008, 7:10 pm / #

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