No BMWs!

I must have slipped through the cracks. My wife's elderly grandmothers have decreed to the boys in the family at least that BMWs are out of the question. I overheard the younger single cousins discussing the issue recently at a party. "Wow!", I thought. I never knew anyone could hate a car so much. I imagined a thousand scenarios where a BMW would become off limits, an accident with one that killed someone, a truly hated friend or relative that worked or owned the company. Maybe there was a Bavarian on the hit list somewhere? I dunno. I asked my wife when we were alone. She told me the car was Ok. They just weren't allowed to marry Blacks, Muslims or Whites.
I must have slipped through the cracks. And I drive a Ford. Just in case. Ooo! It just dawned on me how so out of the question Barack Obama would be.

Arranged Wedding

My wife's younger cousin, let's call him Dkwathh, acronym for "doesn't know what's about to hit him" his real Gujarati name is just as hard to pronounce, is getting married next year. Great, nice girl, nice guy.

So anyway they're over at the house for a gathering of relatives when he mentions that he and his bride to be are going to Paris. Business or pleasure I ask?

Another cousin interrupts with, "To get engaged".

I laugh.

The cousins says, "No really. Their marriage has been arranged but he hasn't asked her formally yet".

To which I respond, "What the ^$#@&? How the hell does that work?

Apparently, the soon to be wed couple have discussed the joint veture with each other and the parents who have since arranged the hall for both wedding and engagement party.  Dkwathh need only propose now.

After this brief description, I look as puzzled as ever at the dozen or so Indian cousins around me who laugh and explain, "It's Indian. It's backwards."

So I got to thinking. Maybe, now that I'm married, I could start dating again? And I'd really like to take that calculous exam again. The possibilities.

On further consideration, I mean we do things like that in the west. Planning our own funeral for instance. But then we don't harvest organs until we're actually dead.

Hygeinic In-Laws

OK I'm not gonna name names but an in-law is at the house complaining that he caught his mother cleaning the bathroom sink with the toilet brush.

I'm not surprised, they have a plastic garbage pail lid leaning against the radiator in the bathroom next to the toilet as a urine guard. Apparently, and not surprisingly, the urine smells even more than it normally does when heated. Also apparent, the urine on the floor and toilet seat opposite the toilet guard indicate that these are acceptable.

Then he complains to me that his mother shot back that he washes his feces soiled toddler in the same sink AND the kitchen sink. He defends himself to me that baby urine and feces are sterile and looks to me for agreement. I just stare back at him.

These are the same people who are disgusted that my family wears shoes in the house and are mortified that my wife and I share a towel.

You can't make this stuff up y'all.

More on Indian Wedding Customs

Ok, I'm not naming names, but the latest Hindu wedding escapade has to be addressed. I'm looking for answers here y'all.

I've got these cousins, my wife's that is, who recently met the American way and decided to get married the India way. We were all invited to meet the in-laws, then to their engagement party. The wedding has been planned and all that remained was -------------- pausing for effect ---------------- the proposal.

Yep, after the wedding was planned and the engagement party held, the happy couple flew to Paris for the proposal. I asked every damned hindu I know for an explanation. The best I could get was, "We do things backwards." Apparently she said, "Yes" or God forbid they'd lose the deposit on the hall.

Convenient Hindu Philosophy

Most of my hindu in-laws are meat eaters, big time. But a few are hard core vegetarians who take every opportunity to take a shot at the cruel garbage eating carnivores, like myself. The only white guy in the room makes me an especially sought after target. The older ones are worse. They spend a lifetime eating meat until they spot that first gray "yes you're human and will die someday and pay for your sins" hair. Suddenly they're devout hindus hellbent on converting everyone else into vegetarians as if that's gonna make up for the hundreds of cows they've eaten in their lives.

No family gathering is without the debate. They can't win. My father-in-law is the worse. Every time I meet him, he tells me about a film he saw at temple about how cruelly cows are slaughtered for us to eat. I tell him how much crueler death is for animals in the wild. He says he won't eat eggs because they're little chickens. I tell him they're unfertilized eggs and will never be chickens. He looks confused.

A 30 something year old cousin tells me I eat garbage when I eat a cow. I tell her it's not nice to call her god garbage and glance at her generous thighs and my 32 inch waist.

Then there's my favorite, elderly hindu fanatic at a wedding eating shrimp. When confronted he tells me it's Ok as the shrimp weren't killed they were just deprived of oxygen when caught and died naturally.

It goes on all night until I get tired and complement their shoes, "Leather aren't they? But don't worry. It was probably just pushed into a stream and deprived of oxygen."

 If I'm in a mood I usually add, "I eat your god!"

More Fun with Names

Their names were tough enough. But half my wife's older family members couldn't speak English well enough to understand my questions, much less answer them - 'cause they've only been here 40 freakin years mind you.

Take my wife Daya's cousin, Rena. I was introduced to her as "Dolly" by my wife. I'm totally physched, 'cause I can pronounce and remember this one.

Next time I meet her, I point to her and whisper, "Dolly?" to her father to confirm hert name.

In broken English he says, "Rena" shakes his head side to side and continues "They are sisters."

"WOW!", I'm thinking, "Exact twins!"

It was many months later that I discovered Dolly was Rena's nick name and her father was telling me she and DAYA were sisters, as cousins are considered sisters on their culture.

Explains why Dolly and Rena were never together.

What's in a Name"

In Gujarati culture, your mother's brother is your "Masa". His wife, your "Masi". Mom's sister is your "Gacci" and her husband your "Gacca". Now on your father's side his sister is your Foi" and brother a "Fua". At least I think that's how it goes.

I asked my wife and her American raiseed cousins. They haven't a clue. The titles were just part of their names. Their freakin impossible names.

Take this one Uncle. I was introduced to him as "Gacca" before I knew there was this incredibly complicated Uncle-Aunt thing. "OK Gacca, I can remember that name" I think to myself. Next time I see him, before attempting Gacca, I ask my wife his name.

"Sent", she tells me.

"I thought it was "Gacca", I said, slightly frustrated.

"Oh yeah. You can can call him Senti-gacca."

Now I'm getting it, I think to myself. It's one of those Bob versus Robert things.

Before I get a chance to address him, Daya's father calls to him, "Sentidras!"

"OK what's his name Daya?" frustrated, I asked her as point to the same Uncle.

Daya looks a bit confused herself and calls to him, "Bapu!"

I had about 40 of these names to get down. 15 years later, I'm about half way through the list.

Dietary Restrictions

There's an old joke about cajuns and food.

A momma and baby crawfish are crossing a field when they come across a horse. The baby crawfish raises its claws snapping furiously at the huge beast. "Oh don't worry baby, that's a horse it won't hurt you", she assured the frightened crustacean. A few yards later baby crawfish reacts the same when they cross paths with a cow. Again mother crawfish assures the baby of its safety. Many yards are traversed when the two come across a man, "DO THIS BABY DO THIS!", the momma crawfish shouts to the baby with raised claws and continues, "IT'S A CAJUN! THEY'LL EAT ANYTHING!"

It's a pretty accurate statement. If it flies, crawls, swims, slithers or sits in a shell minding its own business, we'll eat it. And man the ways we do. Oysters are had raw, fried, baked into a Rockefeller or Pontchartrain, Fish is broiled, baked, and blackened. And then there's stewed rabbit and squirrel, and all seasoned like nothing you've ever tasted. Make ya wanna slap your mother-in-law, as my late father always said.

The list is endless. Something for any taste. Any taste but my future in-laws. What the hell do you feed a vegetarian in The Big Easy? We hit the best restaurants in the nation and at each one, they had "da salad". That's like vacationing in Hawaii and never leaving the hotel. And that was just a taste of what was to come.

Post marriage, family functions have become as complicated as a United Nations banquet. This grandmother never eats meat, the other grandma is also meatless but has included eggs as a forbidden food, 'cause we can't convince her the egg is not fertilized and will NEVER BE A CHICKEN. And then there's the aunt that cannot possibly eat garlic, as it creates heat and anger in the body, and another who can't eat rice as she's sacrificing for some reason she won't divulge. That's a tough one when every single Indian meal consists of Chickpeas, lentils and rice.

It was really difficult until my wife and I realized this impossible situation was in fact a boon for private life. We continued to have bar-be-ques with whatever we normally ate and invited everyone over for what we ate. Weeded out the difficult ones. Gonna ratchet it up to a full scale pig roast to weed out a few more.