The Nepali Bride

Looks like my friendly neighborhood Nepali grocery store owners have a sweet spot for me. They have already circled me as a prospective groom for the unwed nubile women in their community. I am far from being a handsome George Clooney but I had my share of ‘come hither’ looks and quick glances from all the Nepali beauties of east Atlanta. Yes, I have good peripheral vision. Fuck you. Funnily enough, it’s always the married ones that gives the most obvious ‘fuck me’ eyes. It’s not even subtle. I don’t know what’s up with their Nepali husbands but we have a serious case of desperate housewives in east Atlanta Nepali community. Even from pregnant ones. But I’ll put that case in the “pregnant hormonal mood swings” folder.

Atlanta’s eastern suburbs have a big Nepali refugee population, especially in suburbs of Clarkston and Tucker. Nepalis are traditional Hindus and they rarely if ever marry out of their community or religion. They already know I’m from India and Hindu. Now only if they figure out I’m a Brahmin I have no doubt I’d be abducted one of these days and forced to marry a fat cow. Okay, that’s not right. Nepali women are very pretty and rarely if ever I have seen an ugly broad out there. In fact, most of them are quite desirable.

I go to the Nepali restaurant and the grocery store a lot. So in a way I have made my own bed and I might have to sleep in it. The rose petals were when I mentioned the magic word: Siliguri. You don’t’ mention Siliguri, which is a trading town in the Himalayan foothills in West Bengal popular to the Nepalis just across border, and get away with it. Lesson no. 1 to make lifelong friends with Nepalis: mention you know or you’re from Siliguri. They’ll build a new Shangri La for you in Libyan Sahara desert.

Now I’m afraid to go to the Nepali grocery store after this exchange with one of the fat football faced Nepali store owners.

FatUncle: You like nepali girls?

Me: Yeah, sure. They look really good.

FatUncle: What do you do?

Me: I’m a grad student.

FatUncle: Do you live with your parents?

Me: I live alone.

FatUncle: You single? You have a girlfriend?

Me: I didn’t realize I walked into a marriage services bureau.

FatUncle: You want to marry a nepali girl? They are very good.

Me: Seriously?

I couldn’t control my incredulous laughter to the question.

FatUncle: Do you want to marry in the ‘continent’ (referring to India)? Do you want to marry here?

ME: i haven’t really thought about it.

FatUncle: Nepali girls are very nice.

Me: I can’t agree more. They are amazing. But I have a bus to catch. phir milenge. 

Having said that, I fled with my groceries and the most authentic jhalmuri this side of the hemisphere.

Now don’t get me wrong. Nepali people are the nicest in the world. Himalayan nice. But it was creepy. I’m terrified what they would ask me the next time I go through the doors of my Nepali South Asian grocery store.

Closure and openings

Now that the “i’m-such-a-coy-prude-Turkish-attention-whore” episode is over, I’ll continue with what is turning out to be a pregnant academic year full of hope and awesomeness. London in early summer, then followed up by a peaceful and productive time with the family back home interspersed with (hopefully) mocking the hell out of the unreconstructed Marxists and Maoist graduate students at either Jadavpur University or Presidency University and still being productive. Ending the summer with the trip back to Ladakh.

Yes my gentile friends, a summer of awesomeness is coming up. Now only I have to uphold my end of the bargain. That being going easy on the procrastination and advancing on the academic agenda.

Googly eyes

Needs to be stopped.  I’m told I’m the bigger culprit but it goes both ways. Which is a relief. If I had a dollar for the phrase “start dating that girl already” I’ve heard from the gang over the past month, I would be a rich man by now. I feel like I’m back in high school days. Not a bad thing at all.

The curtain falls

Just like that. Even before I crossed the Atlantic for the first time I knew it would happen like this. Right down to the time and the way of delivery. Premonition, or vision, I can’t tell the difference. One thing I know that you will be missed very very very very badly the next time I enter your bedroom. I am glad you had a good life with your family all around you. Few in India, even among the privileged, go on to live well into their eighties. It’s funny that I didn’t cry hearing the news. I didn’t envision that I would. But I ended up crying anyway listening to the saddest story I have ever heard in my entire life at wee hours in the morning. It’s been a long, long time I have had exercised my lachrymal glands but today was it. I digress. Rest in peace, Didu.

Seriously?

How can you even play coy, far less refuse to come to on an epic trip like that? D just cracks me up. Things have changed. We have a clearer picture of who’s coming and who’s not. The magic number is 7. We already have Abhi, Brandon, Jale, Trice and me, of course. Harrison may be on the boat. The Rapunzel is pissed off and wants to go her own way, and drive. Looks like I’ll see her the last time this June, in one piece at the very least. This is coming up to be bigtime epic! Did I say “epic”?