“I should’ve expected this. I know! I know this would happen”, muttered Ragav to himself.
Ragav, a biochemical engineer, has been working in the US for about 4 years now and the fact that he had spent another 8 years of study there takes the tally to 12, a figure from which anyone would guess that Ragav is half-American by now.
He has come down now to get married to one, Miss Veena, an HR consultant, working for a reputed IT firm in Chennai. Though they’ve never met each other in person, the myriad telephonic conversations and online chats they’ve had in the past 6 months don’t make them strangers, thanks to the advancements in Internet technology.
Since they knew each other well, Veena had come alone to the airport to pick Ragav up. Ragav was in an irritable mood because of the long, tiring journey and the fact that his baggage had not arrived added fuel to the already burning fire. To make matters worse, the scorching heat outside annulled the air conditioning effect of Veena’s car. Veena, based on her past experience with Ragav, realized his mood well and decided not to start off any conversation before reaching home. She dropped him home and they decided to meet at the Kalahari’s for a light evening meal at 7 pm.
They arrived at the restaurant together and as they entered, Ragav put his right hand on Veena’s shoulder. Veena smirked at Ragav’s conspicuous public display of affection and politely took his hand off as they approached their already reserved table.
Ragav took his seat and said “Veena, come on! We’re in the era of computers, mobile phones and sat navs. What’s the big deal in a guy putting his hand on his fiancée?”
“Ragav, this is not America and we don’t want to invite unnecessary glares, do we?” questioned Veena.
Ragav: “What the hell! We in the US live a trouble-free life unlike…”
Before Ragav could finish, Veena politely reminded him, “Ragav, you’re still an Indian, living in the US”.
Ragav: “Blame my parents for that! They don’t like me getting a US citizenship”.
As a matter of great relief for Veena, the waiter came to the table and asked the all time commonplace question, “What’d you like to have please?”
Ragav (with a highly accented tone): “Can I have the menu please?”.
They ordered their starters, naans and curries and started looking at the beautifully decorated interiors. After a while, Ragav broke the silence and apologised for starting off the heated conversation. Veena smiled and started talking about the carnatic concert she attended last night.
They savoured the dishes and within about 10 minutes, Ragav bit a red-hot chilli and yelled “Indian curries, useless! They burn us out”.
Veena: “Ragav, chillies are meant to be hot. Don’t you know that? That’s the speciality of Indian curries.”
Ragav: “That’s enough, Veen. Stop boasting about India. I don’t want to start this but you’re too presumptuous to leave matters here.”
Veena: “I’ve had enough of this as well. What’s not in India that you have in the US?”
Ragav: “OK. Firstly, we live an independent life. We don’t trouble our neighbours borrowing coffee powders and ladles.”
Veena: “Very well! Is that your problem?”
“Mr. Shankar, my neighbour, fell unconscious last month. If it weren’t for my dad’s immediate reaction and assistance, he’d be long dead by now. What do you say about that? BTW, do you know who lives to your left?”
Ragav: “I think it’s the Taylor’s. Ok, forget it. I, anyways, don’t know who lives to my right.”
Veena (with a sardonic smile): “How’s the madras curry, Raag?”
Ragav: “Don’t change the topic, Veen. Look how untidy this city is. I mean, everything’s strewn on the roads, it’s so unhygienic.”
Veena: “Agreed, but what do you do at home? You walk with shoes on carpets. Do you know the kind of microorganisms you’d be carrying? Which health standards agency recommends that?”
Ragav (slightly puzzled): “Veena, don’t be a fool. It’s freezing there. I can’t walk with bare feet”.
By this time they’d finished their meal and the waiter came to their rescue yet again, this time only with their bill. Ragav opened his wallet immediately and took out a 10-dollar note. “Oh”, he shrugged and felt gutted he didn’t change his currency.
“No worries, Raag. I’ve got my INDIAN credit card” stressed Veena and winked at Ragav.
Back in the car, Veena started driving and switched the CD player on and Mr. Mellifluous, Unni Krishnan started singing ‘Krishna nee beganey…. baro’.
The signal turned green at one of the junctions and as Veena drove past the speeding two-wheelers, Ragav inquired about Raji, a friend of Veena.
Veena mentioned about Raji’s parents not liking her groom choice and Ragav immediately commented, “Gross! Why are parents so influential here? You know, people in the US start living independently at the age of 18 and parents don’t interfere in their children’s love life”
Veena: “You’re right my darling but we, in India, don’t take appointments to meet our parents”
Ragav: “You’re hopeless, Veen. You don’t talk like an HR consultant, you sound like an 80 year old grand lady.”
Veena (smiles): “Ragav, what’s your problem? What’s troubling you?”
Ragav: “Look Veena, I’ve lived a more comfortable life in the U.S. So, it’s kind of difficult for me to adjust here. Please try to understand that.”
Ragav, totally cross with the discussion, turned the pages of the day’s newspaper and suddenly growled, “Look, look! People here rob houses, steal money, pickpocket. It’s gross!”
Veena: “Raag, what do you think about gunmen hunting down innocent people in universities and colleges for no reason?”
“Don’t you read your own papers for heaven’s sake?”
Ragav (infuriated): “Veena, that’s attitude at its heights. Don’t try to counter everything. What pleasure do you seek in irritating me?”
Ragav continued talking and, suddenly, the vehicle came to a grinding halt. Veena got down, held Ragav’s hand and ushered him to a pavement in Elliots beach.
Veena: “Ragav, I’m neither being rude nor am I defending anything here. See, there are certain good things in the U.S. that don’t happen here. I’m sane enough to understand your feelings. But there are some things that are good here and they don’t happen there. You should try to understand that as well. There are cultural differences between the two countries and it’d be strange for anyone moving from one of these countries to another. You’ve lived in the US for quite a while but you’re no alien to the way Indians live. In fact, you were born and brought up here and no other citizenship could change that fact.”
Ragav (in a slightly confused tone): “What do you want me to do now?”
Veena: “Nothing! I was so happy this morning that I was going to meet you. I never thought we’d end our first day up discussing all of these. Anyways, I’m a partner in crime too. So, sorry about that but I want to let you know that I love you from the bottom of my heart and am really looking forward to marrying you”
Ragav (with an innocent smile): “You’re right, Veen. I had that superior air around me. I totally agree that one should respect other cultures, err…sorry, firstly one’s own culture. You know what, I don’t think American girls are as sweet as their Indian counterparts.”
Veena (with a bright smile and a wink): “Mr. Romantic, please beware that U-turns are not allowed in this beach.
As both laughed at Veena’s comment, she opened the gift she had bought for Ragav.
Gleefully accepting the scented perfume, Ragav laughed out loud reading its name.
Atlantic Spice
200 ml
Made in India
200 ml
Made in India
