Monday, May 9, 2011

The Ugly Truth

It is the night I go home. We are at a friends place in Mumbai, waiting for my flight. I get to order one more dinner of butter chicken before I go. :)

I am so relieved to be heading back. It was wonderful to be here with him, to get to know him better, but it was difficult to realize some hard truths about myself.

Having too much time on my hands was not good for me. My mind can take one little thing and blow it up into a presumptive mess. It is challenging to face the the fact that I am not nice when I feel helpless, stifled, unsure. There were many times these last two months that I did not like myself.

It is hard enough to deal with a country, language, food and customs that are not my own, but I had to throw in a burgeoning relationship that was supposed to grow in a somewhat artificial environment. I am not this person that  he knows. I am an independent individual who supports herself, who texts her friends, who goes to Bikram yoga everyday, who loves her car and her bike, loves drinking at the local pub with all her island friends, who visits the library once a week, and likes to eat out for almost every meal. All of these things I don't do or have here.

He made a comment about something that he thought wasn't me, and it floored me because, in my country, it is me. He doesn't know me at all. He only knows the girl who is in India on intermission from her life and responsibilities.

I tried not to post when I felt bad, which is why I posted a lot less than I thought I would when I made this blog. It is not easy for an Aries to admit her faults. To admit that I don't like myself when I feel helpless, worthless, and left out. To feel resentful when Husband is not keeping me in the know, filling me in, informing me of plans ahead of time instead of just springing things on me that were just discussed by everyone in the room but me, because I don't understand the language. No matter how many times I ask everyone to speak in English around me when plans are being made, they unknowingly slip back into Hindi after about three minutes.

Sigh. It's not his fault. He has been wonderful. He is so patient, says that he understands. Didn't hold it against me when I picked fights with him out of boredom and frustration. I hope that I can be as accommodating and gracious when he is adjusting in my country.

It amuses me that I think our daily phone calls when we are apart are a more realistic way of getting to know the details of each others lives, thoughts, and dreams than me being here in a suspended state of living.

Being with someone from a different country is hard. Being married to him means I can't hide from the things I don't like about myself. In order to love him, I have to learn to love all aspects of myself, and it is disconcerting to accept that I am not perfect! ;)

Thank you to all my supportive readers, and to all the gori girls who are with Indian men, and blog about it. I am thinking that I will keep this blog to write about the extensive immigration process that is ahead of us, and hope that it helps others in the same situation.

This sojourn may be over, but the adventure is just beginning.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Indians love to party

Lots going on!

The boy next door is getting married and the neighborhood is full of activity! These large tents have been erected, in the street in front of our house, and in the field in the back. Tonight is the DJ party, tomorrow is the wedding. Unfortunately, we are going to Mumbai tomorrow, so I wont see the wedding, but today I have been out there taking lots of photos.

There are about 50 women, dressed in their nicest sarees, with mehndi all over their hands, arms and feet, sitting on a cloth rolling out rotis. They all had to bring their own rolling stones and pins, and it is a frenzy of women chatting as they roll and transfer to a larger plate that other women come around , consolidate, and collect. A few adorable little girls are trying to help as well. I will have to post pics later.

And there are about 20 men just sitting around, watching.

As I take photos, I can recognize a few Hindi words that inform me that the women are asking my MIL about me.

I tried to snap an unobtrusive photo of the groom standing there looking like a prince checking on his subjects, (and maybe just a tad bewildered), but he caught me and rewarded me with the most beautiful smile. I fell in love just a tiny bit. ;)

I gotta get back out there! Need to keep spying on the activity! Love this.

And, there really is nothing more beautiful than an Indian woman dolled up in a glittery saree, adorned with gold bangles, necklaces, earrings, and nose rings, sparkling jewels in her hair, and dark mehndi decorating her  limbs. They are queens, and I am the poor, pasty, pale outsider, the comic book next to the Mona Lisa. It inspires awe...