Mom-ji.
Indian men have a very special relationship with their mothers. These women yell, scream and beat their male off-spring. They repeatedly tell their sons how useless and stupid they are. They hold their heads in their hands and beg their God of choice to explain what it is they did in a past life to deserve such a disrespectful child. But no sooner have these diamonds in the rough been ‘married off’ then suddenly the Indian mother can’t find enough time in the day to sing her son’s praises. And sing them she will – loud and clear without fatigue. The lyrics are different but the message is always the same: You are not good enough for my baby.
My own Mother-in-law (MIL) is the same. She is a tough broad who raised 4 unruly cretins. She has four daughters-in-law (DIL) and like all the other MILs out there deep down she believes that all four boys could have done just a little better for themselves in the wife department. But she puts up with us for the same reason all Indian MILs tolerate their DILs. After having raised her boys like special needs children, she knows that for their sake she has to suffer the care giver who has taken over.
She hails from the great state of Haryana. Which is like being from Texas – everyone from there is extremely proud of it and everyone who isn’t can’t understand why. Like all Haryanvi mothers, feeding her children is her raison d’être. She ferrets out people traveling to New York and forces them to carry things for us. And she always calls me before the courier leaves to make sure she has sent all that we need.
Hello Radhika – Arjun is leaving next week and he has nothing to carry so I am sending 10 kilos rice, 5 kilos ghee, 2 kilos cashew nuts, 2 kilos almonds, 2 kilos pistas, 2 kilos raisins, 5 kilos assorted sweets and 2 one-liter bottles of Maggie hot and sweet tomato sauce. Is that enough?
Yes Mom.
Are you sure?
No Mom – maybe we should get some more rice.
That‘s what I thought. I’ll send 15kilos.
She hovers over you as you eat, dumping food on your plate and sometimes stuffing it directly in to your mouth if it happened to be ajar. I would eat pretty much anything that was put in front of me because I wanted her to like me, and I could tell that eating continuously would be a major means to this end. Things were going swimmingly. Then we hit a roadblock.
My MIL believes that food is what keeps all illnesses at bay and she is partial to milk as a cure-all. Milk is practically the staple food of the people of Haryana – children are breast-fed until they can recite their mathematical tables and gallons of it are consumed daily in every home.
My back hurts.
Drink some milk – your bones are weak.
My throat feels itchy.
Hot milk, honey and turmeric at once.
I just threw up.
You must be hungry. Have a glass of milk.
And here in lay the problem – I am lactose intolerant. The first time I explained this to my MIL she nodded her head like she understood but I could see in her eyes that she thought I was full of bakwaas*. To her, lactose intolerance is a made up disease that we weak minded, wimpy, ‘modern-day’ girls use to avoid dealing with life – like post partum depression, anxiety attacks, and dyslexia. It all exists in our minds.
Until she met me she had never heard of such a thing. How the hell could anyone be allergic to milk! While I prattled on about the problems we lactose intolerant people have to deal with she just sat there thinking ‘Oh God if this was my child I would have clubbed her one – why won’t she just shut up and eat the damn paneer tikka instead of inconveniencing everyone?’
As I explained in unnecessary detail the effects various milk products had on my digestive system she smiled painfully as her eyes searched for answers: What is wrong with this imbecile? Where did my stupid son even find her? Who in God’s name can’t drink one single solitary cup of milk? If he were this desperate why he didn’t just come to me and ask me to find him a girl? I would have found him a nice girl with big breasts who could drink milk without whining about it.
And I know she is now trying to get rid of me because every time I visit the first thing she sweetly asks is if I want a mango shake. My MILs mango shake is designed to kill a lactose intolerant person immediately. It is chunks of mango, milk and cream all whipped up in to one big glass of pain. Every year I am asked if I would like some. Every year I say, no thanks. And every year I see disappointment in her eyes.
Then to make this all much worse my own mother came to stay with my MIL for three days. The very first thing my mother did was to decline a cup of warm, milky tea because like me, she too is lactose intolerant. My MIL couldn’t even react. While everyone discussed how this was most likely hereditary she was thinking to herself ‘OMG – no wonder this girl is a bewakoof**. Her mother is the same and she has passed on this self-centered, paranoid behavior to her one and only off-spring. Why do these people have only one child? They should have many so that they can dilute the foolishness instead of concentrating it all up in to one big, lactarded baby. I wonder when they are all leaving.’
So no matter how far I think I may have got in the fight to prove that there is no way her son could have done any better than I, when it comes to a showdown between her, me, and a glass of milk, I will retreat, whinging like a little bitch.
*Bakwaas – Hindi word for bullshit.
**Bewakoof – Hindi word for fool/ idiot/moron/dim-wit/half-wit/nit-wit/nincompoop.
Very funny, Rads:) I forwarded it to my Indian friends (and their gora significant others, as a kind of early warning) so I’ll let you know what they think.
Indications are that I should be in NY mid-October. Let’s grab a mango shake?
SUPERB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Rads from one lactose intolerent sister to another I ask you ‘Why the hell did someone not pass on this knowledge before I started dating Indian men?’ Many moons ago I thought the biggest obstacle I had to overcome was the fact I was white and not interested in marriage – little did I know at the time it was was my aversion to milk products that would make me the devil’s incarnate. No thankyou Aunty-ji, no Mango Lassi for me.
Your stuff with all the rice, thermos etc is lying at my place- sent from Gurgaon
It will be hysterical if Deepak develops an intolerance too. You will definitely be blamed for that…apparently its known to happen to adults.
As you know ma benjamin, who typifies the MIL you write about, is also a firm believer in MILK. At least you are lactose intolerant…i don’t like it and have no excuse not to have it.
While pregnant – i was told to drink milk with a bit of saffron (for fair children is the general belief but she never actually said that!). Five years later the little box of saffron that was sent to me still sits in the fridge with not a strand used!
Brilliant Vaz!
You should write books.
You’re way too good to confine yourself to blogging.
great blog. a lot of insight into Haryana.
I was at the office when I read this and burst out laughing – people walking by must have thought that I’d goone mad! Going to share with my gora better half so that he can be prepared for when he meets his MIL next month. Hope all is well. When are you guys coming to see us?!
Jatinder & Steve xxx
oh i miss our ‘sharing mil strories’ days
Hilarious Radhika… Add aloe vera to my MIL’s list of must haves for all ailments..now come to think of it..add anything that’s absolutley disgusting to ingest..a true sign that it’s good for you!!
Can’t believe I’ve only now discovered your blog..
Brilliant!
Hailing from the erstwhile state of Haryana and growing up in a home where we had our own Cows …it was hard growing up with an aversion to drinking milk. The MIL’s are just as hard on their daughters! It also does not help if one has siblings who drank a few kilos (funny that) of milk a day.