The last time my mother visited me, I was living in northeast DC. I had just bought a charming old row house and moved in. Gentrification was beginning to happen and older black neighbors were selling and moving out. (which was causing some resentment among other blacks in the city). Crime was steadily declining but the area was still not safe. Within 2 months of moving in, my house was broken into twice and all my possessions were stolen. (Btw, whoever has my laptop,hope you're enjoying my Kannada porn collection). After this happened, I made friends with the neighbors including the Congressman next door. (who had his house broken into as well). I started attending community meetings and got to know the cops. I installed alarm and window bars. Occasionally I took care of my friend's German Shepherd and walked the neighborhood with him. I also joined the neighborhood watch group and we walked around the 'hood wearing orange hats. In short, I did everything I had to do short of buying a gun or moving out.
Occasionally I had visitors from the suburbs. Most were immediately uncomfortable with the location. My house was beautiful with open brick. The streets were wide and with tall trees on either side. My Gym was right next door and the bus stop was a block over. I walked or biked everywhere during the day. But none of these impressed them. As soon as they got in, they always wanted to know if their Lexus or Mercedes was okay to be parked on the street. Then they wanted to get out of there ASAP. Before leaving, they would look at me incredulously. Why is she living here? Alone? Why can't she move to the burbs and be safe amongst the whites and desis? (I never told them about the house break ins. I was not going to be invited to an intervention, if I could help it).
It was a little different with my mother. Yes, she worried about my safety in a neighborhood that was known for crime and drugs. But she loved the area nonetheless. It was always busy. There was always activity on the street with kids and teenagers like there would be on a typical street in India. One 4th of July, there were even fireworks shot by my neighborhood kids and adults. And right in front of my house. It took me back to the deepavali of my childhood days and made me feel completely at home. (Occasionally there were those other fireworks too but luckily none while my mother was visiting).
My mother loves history. She loves history enough that she wanted to visit Frederick Douglass' house in southeast DC. We were the only non black people there in the Douglass' house. Most of her opinions of black people are formed by reading American history and civil war. And Kunta Kinte. When I introduced her to my African American friends, she was fascinated. Like someone from one of her books had suddenly come to life. It was interesting to watch her ask my friends if they too liked Gone with the Wind. (Uh, don't think so ma).
My amma was happiest when we took the bus or the train. She did not like traveling in cars. She wanted to be out, seeing people. Real people. Not sitting in a car, going to groceries. Visiting relatives. I guess she really wanted to leave India in India.
One day we were waiting for the bus to go to Busboys and Poets on U Street. Open Mic poetry and great food (with Veg options on the menu!) Can't get better than that. It was a beautiful day and everyone was out on the street. And the bus stop was especially crowded with people waiting for the bus, to people selling sneakers and tshirts, to the speakers on the street corner ranting about the white man. In short, typical H Street corner on a nice day.
We were waiting for the bus and taking in the scene when a man approached us. He was distributing flyers for a new church on F street and wanted to know if I would attend. I just smiled and said probably not. My mother looked at me disapprovingly. The mother who is not hot about any religion or God: She let me know that people needed God, especially the poor. She said I should let them believe in it. It gives them hope, she said. Then she asked me to not make fun of them. (I was not making fun of anyone). She then turned to the man (who was still standing there confused) and asked him his name and what he did. She told him she was christian too. (I have never seen her reveal this information to anyone before. Having married my dad, she's pretty much a Hindu in everyone's eyes). The man looked more confused. He didn't expect her to be anything other than a christian. She told him she was actually catholic and she was visiting me etc etc. and they struck up a conversation and talked more about Jesus (I think. I had kind of stopped paying attention). Next thing I heard, she had invited this stranger to our home for lunch. Yes, the man who was simply distributing flyers and spreading the word of God was invited to our house to break some bread. (She would have invited him to my wedding if that was happening tomorrow). That's when I realized that my amma may have wanted to leave India but India was very much with her, as natural and effortless as her sari and bottu.
Occasionally I had visitors from the suburbs. Most were immediately uncomfortable with the location. My house was beautiful with open brick. The streets were wide and with tall trees on either side. My Gym was right next door and the bus stop was a block over. I walked or biked everywhere during the day. But none of these impressed them. As soon as they got in, they always wanted to know if their Lexus or Mercedes was okay to be parked on the street. Then they wanted to get out of there ASAP. Before leaving, they would look at me incredulously. Why is she living here? Alone? Why can't she move to the burbs and be safe amongst the whites and desis? (I never told them about the house break ins. I was not going to be invited to an intervention, if I could help it).
It was a little different with my mother. Yes, she worried about my safety in a neighborhood that was known for crime and drugs. But she loved the area nonetheless. It was always busy. There was always activity on the street with kids and teenagers like there would be on a typical street in India. One 4th of July, there were even fireworks shot by my neighborhood kids and adults. And right in front of my house. It took me back to the deepavali of my childhood days and made me feel completely at home. (Occasionally there were those other fireworks too but luckily none while my mother was visiting).
My mother loves history. She loves history enough that she wanted to visit Frederick Douglass' house in southeast DC. We were the only non black people there in the Douglass' house. Most of her opinions of black people are formed by reading American history and civil war. And Kunta Kinte. When I introduced her to my African American friends, she was fascinated. Like someone from one of her books had suddenly come to life. It was interesting to watch her ask my friends if they too liked Gone with the Wind. (Uh, don't think so ma).
My amma was happiest when we took the bus or the train. She did not like traveling in cars. She wanted to be out, seeing people. Real people. Not sitting in a car, going to groceries. Visiting relatives. I guess she really wanted to leave India in India.
One day we were waiting for the bus to go to Busboys and Poets on U Street. Open Mic poetry and great food (with Veg options on the menu!) Can't get better than that. It was a beautiful day and everyone was out on the street. And the bus stop was especially crowded with people waiting for the bus, to people selling sneakers and tshirts, to the speakers on the street corner ranting about the white man. In short, typical H Street corner on a nice day.
We were waiting for the bus and taking in the scene when a man approached us. He was distributing flyers for a new church on F street and wanted to know if I would attend. I just smiled and said probably not. My mother looked at me disapprovingly. The mother who is not hot about any religion or God: She let me know that people needed God, especially the poor. She said I should let them believe in it. It gives them hope, she said. Then she asked me to not make fun of them. (I was not making fun of anyone). She then turned to the man (who was still standing there confused) and asked him his name and what he did. She told him she was christian too. (I have never seen her reveal this information to anyone before. Having married my dad, she's pretty much a Hindu in everyone's eyes). The man looked more confused. He didn't expect her to be anything other than a christian. She told him she was actually catholic and she was visiting me etc etc. and they struck up a conversation and talked more about Jesus (I think. I had kind of stopped paying attention). Next thing I heard, she had invited this stranger to our home for lunch. Yes, the man who was simply distributing flyers and spreading the word of God was invited to our house to break some bread. (She would have invited him to my wedding if that was happening tomorrow). That's when I realized that my amma may have wanted to leave India but India was very much with her, as natural and effortless as her sari and bottu.
1 comment:
Great post. Thank you very much for finally letting us know you joined the blogosphere. Now I can read you, and feel a bit more connected, even though we live in the same 'hood - where we never see each other! :)
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