“Mai Chini Hu”

Summary: Etiquette says you shouldn’t attend a party empty-handed; Indian etiquette adds the stipulation that you shouldn’t leave a gathering without giving a performance of your own. On another note, being Chinese here is no easy task, as folks have preconceived notions of who you are, making every act a decision to either confirm or disconfirm those preconceptions.

Note to self: Do your homework before you attend a “small” social gathering. This could be relevant in any culture, in terms of understanding the context and knowing who else might be in attendance, but India takes it to a different level. Be prepared.

Last night, Auntie Sadhna (landlady) and the Doctor (aka “Uncle,” or her husband) hosted a family gathering to celebrate Uncle’s nephew’s completion of dental surgery training. As her three daughters (she calls us such, for she has no children of her own), we were invited to partake in the festivities, which were to commence at 7:30 pm.

We reach downstairs around 7:45, shortly after which food was served. Five different dishes, including some Manchurian paneer (for me) and french fries (for the whities). [This reminded me of the time we were over for dinner and they made cucumber sandwiches for Anna and chow mien for me.] Massive amounts of food (and five different family members making sure you get refills), and it wasn’t until later that I learned that it was an appetizer for them, and dinner had yet to come. (Oh, boy!) Amidst all this, Uncle (the Doctor) asks me, “You like Chinese food?” (This after a conversation last week about how tiffin / lunch from Didi’s at the office is delectable despite the fact that it’s not Chinese.) “Yes, sir. But I also really like eating Indian food too. I like many different cuisines.” Anna chimes in, “But Chinese is your favorite, right?” “Um, well, I grew up eating it, but I also really like Indian food.” Thanks, Anna.

So we finish with pre-dinner and are talking when the aunties all decide they want Anna (and Elizabeth) to perform a song. (Sitting in a corner across the room, I was slightly better sheltered from the attention.) Five minutes later, they are still empty-handed and Anna turns their attention to the niece, who sings in a stunningly beautiful voice a Hindi song. Five minutes later, the grandmother performs, followed by a duet from the nephew and niece.

Auntie Sadhna turns to me. “Do you sing?” “No.” Giggle, sheepish grin, and blush. “Sing a Chinese song for us?” “No, really, I don’t sing. And I don’t know any Chinese songs. Really.” Blush, giggle, repeat. Five minutes later, they decide they want to dance and have opened up the room next door. We start leaving (saying “Urvashi is wondering when we’ll be able to make it to her dinner + movie night”), and as we walk out the door, we’re pulled into the next room where the uncles are dancing (“jigging”) to Hindi music. Anna busts a move, and another 5 minutes later we finally make our grand exit.

The note to self refers to the need to have a song prepared for occasions as such. Because such occasions arise pretty regularly, and the need for a song and/or dance is important so as to not disappoint the gracious hosts.

Because we had to leave before actual dinner was served last night, Auntie wanted to pack up the food for us to enjoy the next day. Instead, we negotiated a lunch date with her for today. So we went back today, and had a very enjoyable lunch at 3 pm. (She was fasting and did not partake; only served us.) As we were getting ready to leave, we were talking about inviting her upstairs one day. She replies, “I’d like to learn to cook Chinese food.” Smile and hug.

I think that when people see me, they see “Chinese” first, and “female” second. And I can’t escape the fact that I’m Chinese here, even with folks who have come to know me as an individual. Phrases like “chow mien hair” (which Elizabeth has) or comments like, “Please sing us a Chinese song” make me hyperaware and hypersensitive to my ethnic background. While I embrace my Chinese background, it does not define me, nor do I want it to define my interactions. (Plus, how can I teach her how to cook Manchurian paneer? Or bok choy, when that doesn’t exist here?)

My biggest struggle with this is: When should I embrace my roots and confirm stereotypes and fulfill expectations, and when should I make an effort to break from the mold they’ve built?