Meet the Parents

Anoop has become a good friend to both Christopher and I and has been such an asset when it comes to finding our way around this city. He knows the ins and outs and has steered us toward the best aspects of local culture. Perhaps the strongest thing in India is family. Last night, Anoop invited us to have dinner with his family. Since we have been eating in restaurants for several weeks, a home cooked meal sounded great.

Anoop’s mother greeted us at the door with hugs as kisses. She doesn’t know many worlds in English, but the bulk of the words she does know have to do with welcoming people into her home. Both she and Anoop were dressed as if they were going to church leaving us with the feeling that this was a special occasion. It was very apparent that they put a high priority on hospitality.
Once inside we were shown to a small family room, which served a both a space to relax with guests and a place to share meals. The house was simple in its décor and immaculately clean. No sooner had we taken our seats, than his mother appeared again with creamy and refreshing drinks made of mango and milk. Before we could thank her she was off again.
A while later, a tray of assorted Indian foods floated through the door, her smile and blue sari trailing behind the tray like the tail of a comet. As I was informing Anoop that that would be way too much food for four of us, he smiled as if there was some sort of joke that I wasn’t yet getting. His mother appeared again. This time with a second tray which was placed in front of Christopher and then a third in front of Anoop. The first tray that had come out was not for the four of us— it was for me. My stepmother, Adalina is Italian and I think they went to the same school for housewives where the motto is, ‘I’m only force feeding you because I love you’.
“Lets try to clear the table a bit more to make room for your mother’s food.” Christopher said. That was when Anoop explained that Indian women usually serve the men first and then take their own dinner privately. I consider myself a feminist and I could feel anger growing inside me. Here was this beautiful and kind woman who worked all day to prepare a meal for us and she wasn’t even going to sit down and enjoy it? Of course when you visit another culture, it is best to be an observer, so I kept my mouth shut. Then something happed that defused my anger completely.
Anoop’s mother came in with more Indian bread and before leaving gave me a huge hug. It was not just the superficial “pat your back three times quickly” American hug. It was akin to the kind of hug my own mother gives me when we are saying goodbye after a visit. She smiled and thanked me for coming and for honoring her by letting her cook for me. For a moment, I didn’t know what to think, but I quickly realized that she was a woman filled with joy and loved what she did. I still think it would be nice to have shared more of the meal with her, but I realized that her life as an Indian wife and mother was not one of suffering and oppression. It was a beautiful life that she would choose again given the choice.
Anoop’s father also joined us after dinner. He was a delightful and well-educated man who had taught at the local high school and college for many years. Once he retired, he continued to teach to make education more available to poor students. It reminded me of the idea that Gandhi espoused about how healing the world begins with a strong family. This family is certainly proof of that idea.
After dinner, she took us on a tour of their home. It was small but elegant with marble floors throughout. We even had the honor of seeing the small upstairs room where she would meditate for two hours twice daily. There was a small alter with a photo of her guru, flowers and images of Hindu deities. Each day she would go to bed at midnight and get up at 4:00 AM to sit. The rest of the day would be spent tending to household chores and helping out at the school that Anoop started. She has also taken it upon herself to work with the poorest people in Rishikish. It was truly an honor to meet her.
As we said goodbye, both Christopher and I were showered with hugs and kisses again and were made to promise that we would return. I told here that I hoped to be back in a year or so and she lit up. It wouldn’t surprise me if she went right back into the kitchen to start preparing.