My Indian Family Nightmare (and Finding Reality!)

What I experienced:

We arrive at New Delhi Station after a sleepless overnight train-ride. Ratnesh's mum and sister come to take us home. Touch both feet and then my heart. Ratnesh suggested I greet his mum by doing this last time and he reminded me again. I really want to but it feels so out-of-character that I once again opt for a shy "hello" and smile. 

Typical disrespectful white girl! 

I'm sure they're thinking it even if they aren't saying it.

A 20-minute car ride home follows full of Hindi chatter that I cannot understand. Surely they are wondering why I haven't learnt more Hindi over the last year. I quietly beat myself up for my lack of willpower. It is really unacceptable, I have no explanation.

We park outside their home and I try to pile all of our luggage on me to take upstairs to make up for my poor greeting performance but Ratnesh doesn't let me. So I decide to make everyone a chai, which is more a 'woman's' job. But I can't figure out how to light their stove and don't know where the adrak [ginger] is. Rather than apply my shameful Hindi skills to ask someone I opt to keep on searching and eventually produce four cups of tea.

God, I can't even remember how to formally address his mum and sister, how careless of me. So I just pass them all their cups with a smile. No thank you's from them, but I am used to this by now. Still, I still assume that there is something wrong with the drink, perhaps not enough sugar. At least I tried.

I join them all snuggled up on the bed while they chatter some more between themselves. I pretend not to care but really wish I could join in on the conversation and scold myself again for my lack of Hindi skills. My ears prick up upon hearing my name and mention of Christmas. Ratnesh kindly translates.

"Mum was saying that you have put on weight over Christmas"

"Haaa!" [yees!] she says with a big smile.

Before I have time to react, the doorbell rings. I know the drill after my first visit and dive under the quilt on their bed in case a family member is at the door. After my poor performance this morning, the last thing they need is for me to cause family controversy over why a white girl is hanging around.

Lunch time and Ratnesh's mum brings out some chole puri. I say thank you as she passes me my plate.  

"Mum says that her service is 'just an advertisement', soon enough you will be the one doing this for her"

They laugh. I laugh. But oh god. How much truth lies behind these jokes? What do they really expect?  Waiting on their every need. I start to imagine me hunched over in a sari, washing their feet and answering their every call while Ratnesh, entertains himself with video games, his god-given right as their only son. 

I feel exhausted and allow myself to lie down. Am I being let off lightly? I'm not even engaged to Ratnesh, so obviously they don't expect much of me at the moment. Come a few years and perhaps they will be expecting me to be washing clothes, tidying up the house and preparing dinner each afternoon. 

I roll over for an hour's nap. Ten minutes later I hear the TV turn on. I have never been able to sleep with too much noise around me, but I have seen them all do it with ease. Another thing for me to 'work on', I guess..

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This was my experience of yesterday, from my doomsday perspective after arriving to stay with Ratnesh's family for my second time. I am scared of not being the perfect addition to Ratnesh's family. Part of me believes in a cruel fate: They will morph into 'evil Indian in-laws' sooner or later and I will become the unacceptable foreigner. Then I will have to make the dreaded choice: go back to Australia or stay and fail to meet their expectations in misery for the rest of my life.

Where in god's name did these ideas come from? Ratnesh's family have shown me an overwhelming amount of love and acceptance. Sure, they expect me to help with cooking and cleaning, like any other family member, but that is reasonable and I expect that of myself anyway. And sure, open comments on weight fluctuations catch me off-guard. But actually, Ratnesh's mum was saying it as a compliment, I was looking more 'healthy' apparently, I cannot imagine them ever full-on harassing me about my looks. And sure, I find the idea of cooking for Ratnesh's family a little daunting because they are used to foods that I cannot cook well, but I would love to try out some continental cuisines for them, and they have shown a willingness to eat it.

Being scared of a doomsday future has limited my ability to relax and show Ratnesh's family my love and appreciation for them. I am being incredibly hard on myself. I can not expect to be a "perfect" daughter-in-law one day, nor do I want to if it means not being accepted and harassed for the rest of my life! But that is far from my present reality.

I have tried to talk to Ratnesh about family expectations. He gives vague guidelines but it is a lot to ask someone to know what parts of his own culture might differ from mine. It is scary to live in a different culture because human beings like predictability but I will be learning along the way. And I might not like what I come to see. But I may as well start basing the future on a clear picture of my present reality, rather than a distorted doomsday scenario. especially when my reality isn't all that scary after all.

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What Actually Happened:

We arrive at New Delhi Station after a largely sleepless train-ride. While we are only a 20-minute ride away from his home, Ratnesh's mum and sister offer to pick us up and I am thankful for not having to exert effort into finding a rickshaw, although Ratnesh would have probably done it for us. Soon enough they arrive and help us pack our bags in the car. We exchange hellos. Ratnesh's mum does not speak English and I have a very limited knowledge of Hindi at moment. There have been times when I have felt huge resistance to learning but at the moment I am enjoying the process. 

The family talk throughout the ride home and his mum makes several efforts to include me despite our limited vocabularies. I just smile at her to try and show that I am happy to be here and she says that I need to learn Hindi so that we can communicate. I look forward to the day when our conversations consist of more than "Kaise Hai?.. Theek hu"

We arrive at the house and I consider bringing all of the luggage upstairs but Ratnesh gets to the big bag first. Once in the house, I consider heading straight to the kitchen to brew up a cup of tea for everyone but Ratnesh's mum directs me to the bedroom. It is cold and there is a very enticing quilt waiting for me. Soon enough a cup of tea is in my hand, followed by some home-made breakfast. I honestly feel grateful for the hospitality and kindness, despite being nervous about not helping her out. I get up to look for something, and upon returning hear them mentioning my name and something about Christmas.

Mum says you have put on some weight and that you look much healthier now. You must have been sucking Ratnesh's blood! [khun pee rahi ho], she laughs.

I didn't get the joke but felt a little confused about how to take the weight comment. I also knew from my time with her that it is highly unlikely that she means to offend me and didn't mind her making comments about my weight. Even so, an apocalyptic scenario of nasty in-laws trying to 'keep me in good shape' for their only son lingered in my head. I had gotten these idea from recent complaints by other expat women married to Indians about their circumstances, among other sources no doubt.

Before long the door-bell rings. I feel a little unsure and ask whether I should hide in the bedroom because I am aware that not all of the extended family know about me yet. For Ratnesh to date a Westerner might be cause for gossip that they would rather not deal with yet. They will tell everyone in due time but in any case it is mamma ji [uncle] at the door and he met me during Diwali. 

"Namaste" I say with a smile, "Kya apse chai chahiye?" (yes, I said it like this)

I make him a cup of chai. I am used to making chai by now and don't feel as nervous as I used to about serving it up, which is quite a relief. 

"mm chai achhi hai" [good chai] he says.

Come the afternoon and I make us all some more chai. There are no thank you's but I am pretty much used to that now and Ratnesh has explained what that is about already. It means that we are close enough to not have to say thank you for every small thing. Families help each other out, it is just what is done. I like this attitude and the closeness in Ratnesh's family and while I still entertain ideas that my chai is not suited to everyone's tastes, Ratnesh's mum says that she likes it and I think it tastes as good as always.

In the afternoon I spend a few hours trying to catch up from sleep but a combination of worry, bright lights and television noise keeps me awake for the most part.

Lunch time comes at around four-thirty and out pops some more food cooked by Ratnesh's mum. I take my plate.

This is just an advertisement', soon enough you will be the one doing this all for me! she jokes.

I don't know how much truth is in this and I become a little scared of my doomsday future scenario once again. They are smiling, but I later ask Ratnesh to explain what they will expect of me in the future, to which he says "just that you help out sometimes with the cooking and general tidying up as a family member". It seems reasonable but my inner-critic is not satisfied.

By now I am really feeling exhausted and allow myself to lie down again. There is talk of a trip to the markets, but I ask whether we can go tomorrow instead, to which there is no objection and they insist that I rest for the day. 

I do just that. It is difficult for me to sleep when the time comes because I am not used to sharing a bed and do not snooze off before the lights and TV are turned off. But eventually I do manage a surprising amount of sleep, given my experience of the day.