raven | Returning to the motherland (Reply)

jacinthsong linked me to this: Ten Annoying Relatives You Will Have To Deal With This Christmas.

And it occurred to me that there ought to be an Indian equivalent. For one thing, the NRI equivalent to mad-Christmas-preparation is probably mad-going-to-India preparation, and it happens, this year they fall at around the same time. (My parents are spending most of January in Delhi, Ahmedabad and Kolkata.) And so, the first thing to deal with is lists. What relatives over there want to bring: jumpers, chocolate, BRAS. (For explanation, this explains it far better than I could; I've linked to it before, I think.) Also, numerous small things - socks, chocolate chips (apparently in hamara Bharat, you cannot get chocolate chips to bake with for love nor money), salad dressing (ditto),

How one does this with a 20kg luggage allowance when India's weather in January ranges from tropical to sub-zero is the next problem. And then, my list (Vatika coconut; ear studs; several law textbooks; mithai from the Bengali Market pleeeeeeease).

And that's before we get onto the real problems, where they decide which relatives they're going to vist and in what order (this is very important). Firstly, there is the Senior Uncle, whose job it is to puff on a pipe (or merely look like it, if he doesn't have one) and Pontificate. On the state of India today, how it's almost developed, really, and do they feed you anything over there in the West you don't eat.

Then Aunts ("Eat something, beta! Why do you not eat! See, I cooked it so nicely for you! Coffee? No sugar? Arré!) and Further Aunts ("Study, study, study all the time, these children, when are they going to get married?") and Yet Further Aunts ("Come, we are going to Shankar Market. Yes you need a sari! You can wear it for functions!").

Then Younger Cousins ("Can I borrow your lipgloss? Oh, thank you!" / Me, resignedly: "Keep it.") and Elder Males, who are... ponderous. "I understand Oxford is a very good university." / "It has been said, yes."

I am being uncharitable - over the last few years, I've got in the habit of remembering what it is they like in the way of lipgloss and buying a lot of it before I go. As has often been noted, the West is wasted on me. ("This child, all she does is read! You're home now! Why you don't go get yourself done?")

(Me: "NO I DO NOT WANT MY EYEBROWS THREADED GO AWAY.")

And, finally, my sweet and very calming grandfather. "How are your studies? Good. How are your friends? Good. Let's go for some ice-cream tonight."

And we go to India Gate after dark, and eat ice-cream in the park and watch the glowstick sellers doing tricks with their wares. Dear me, I love Delhi in January. I almost wish I were going, now.

But, in the meantime. Am still here, but just for today. Running away with my boyfriend to a quaint ethnic festival, back soon.