Some thoughts on NRIs

Or I should say, some thoughts of NRIs.

I was reading Anamika Mukharji's latest post (righttowrite.blogspot.com) on the 60th Indian Independence Day. In one graf, she pointed out she was tired of Non Resident Indians (NRIs) who criticize India while comfortably enjoying life outside des. Couldn't agree more with her, and I would like to think I refrain for the same reason.

Then I got to thinking about the NRIs I knew. Attend any desi party any time and the favorite topic of conversation isn't India-bashing. It's bashing the U.S. -- the country the desis I know have chosen to live. If they aren't grumbling about how their white boss passed them over for a promotion (racist bastard of course), they are grumbling about the weird habits of their black/Chinese neighbors or the laziness of their Mexican gardener or housecleaner. Which attitude doesn't make them racist bastards, merely superior.

Indian heritage, culture, traditions, food are praised to the skies -- I am talking specifically about Hindus here because my experience is limited to them. On the other hand, NRIs claim Americans have no culture, no history and zero moral and family values. Because these folks may have a bad influence on Indian family values, NRIs do not fraternize with whites (derogatorily referred to as goras) -- forget the Chinese, blacks or Mexicans (you don't want to know how they refer to people belonging to these races). The only friends their children have are the desi offspring of their parents' desi friends. It's either that, or these children know early on not to bring their non-desi school friends home, aware that they won't feel welcome or comfortable.

It's hardly any wonder that these kids grow up confused (everyone's heard them referred to as ABCDs -- American Born Confused Desis). After all, they go to school and have to interact on a daily basis with non-desi kids. Soon they discover that American parents are pretty much the same as desi parents when it comes to doing homework and generally being involved in their kids' lives. Then they go to India for vacations. Thanks to the magnificent portrait their parents have painted of India's beauty and culture, they are doubly shocked to see the Unwashed Masses, the garbage piled on street corners, the careless disregard for the poor, the lame and the destitute. Then they see their parents hobnobbing with the resident Indians, glorying in their NRI status and complaining about the heat, the dirt. When will the country improve? they lament.

Eventually, these kids learn an important lesson: their parents are hypocrites.

Not all NRIs are this bad or racist. But we're all guilty to some extent of creating/participating in little mini-Indias where non-desis are deliberately excluded. If we can't interact normally with our American neighbors -- be they white, Southeast Asian, Hispanic or black -- what example are we setting for our kids? We have to accept that just as we will always be Indian at heart, our kids will always be American. And being American means accepting others, while celebrating what makes each one unique -- that Indian heritage that we will pass on to our children. A heritage to be proud of at all times -- one that acknowledges that tolerance for others is the backbone on which it has been based. Unity in diversity, remember? Indians and Americans should have at least that in common.

What's in a Name?

I know -- out of all the Shakespeare quotes that have become cliches, this one is prime. But really, since this post is about a name for my baby boy, I couldn't think of titling it any other way. So sue me.

Am in such a pissy mood these days, this post is one long whine. You've been warned.

Began my final trimester a week or so ago, and my mom's still bombarding me with baby boy names every time we talk. Which is, like, twice a week. Don't know what part of "it needs to be easy for non-desis to understand" that she just doesn't get. Her recent contribution: Moksh. Yeah, try that on any American and watch his eyes glaze. At least it was the first time she'd mentioned that one. She's been trying "Karan" for weeks now. OK, months. And I tell her for the gazillionth time, Karan's going to become "Karen" the first day of school and my 5-year-old boy will come home and murder his mom for naming him so thoughtlessly.

Who knew it was so hard to come up with desi names that's not only easy for non-desis to pronounce, but won't be perverted by the first obnoxious boy my boy meets? My husband's king of coming up with ways names can be perverted. He was the one to warn me about Karan/Karen. When we were thinking names for our daughter, it was he who pointed out how Anusha could be messed around with (Anus-ha, see? Duh Mommy!)

But even he couldn't have predicted how his friends' kid's name could be messed with. Our friends recently had a baby boy who they named Ravi. Simple? Check. Easy to pronounce? Check. So you would think. My daughter still calls him "Robbie." And how could one possibly come up with a way to tease a kid called Ravi? "Ravioli!" announced another friend -- a German-born American. Thanks, dude.

Thinking simplicity, I ran "Aditya" by some friends. They looked at me vacantly. And these are Thai-Americans, mind you, not themselves known for the easiest names. I tried "Varun" by a Filipino-American friend. Similar vacant look. She didn't even try to say it. Varun, for crying out loud. How much easier can one get?

After all this hullabaloo, we've come up with Rohan. Yeah, "row, row, row your boat..." but at least most people can say it OK. And it's got some coolness factor, thanks to The Lord of the Rings. Plus, it's kinda global: When we googled "Rohan," we came up with West Indians, Irish, Sri Lankans... works for us. Of course, my mom hates it. HATES it! So twice a week, she comes up with new ones to change our minds.

Which brings us back to square one. Moksh? God, I need some Nirvana...