I sat through Jodhaa-Akbar. Twice. And not out of compulsion. I can even say I liked it. What's not to like if there is Hrithik Roshan as an emperor to feast your eyes on? But the other reason is that I like the underlying theme of cross-cultural relationships.
Let me explain. I am a Maharashtrian married to a Mallu, living in the UK. Unity in diversity, 'glocal' living and all that. I think we have been married just long enough to say our cross-cultural 'union' seems to be getting along just fine. If you ignore my slight tendency to be overpoweringly,and surprisingly, true to my ancestors' soil.
I, umm, uhh, suggest (Ok, who am I kidding - I insist) to A that he be sensitive to my Maharashtrian-ness and its religious, traditional, gastronomical implications and adopt as much of my culture as possible. He doesn't drive a hard bargain - I do not have to start oiling my hair after a bath and wear a mundu, 'zimbly' (simply, for the uninitiated). But I find that there are times I hang on to all things Maharashtrian just out of the fear that the Mallu's mere presence would make me lose my original, mee marathi identity. So it could be my kitchen with its goda masala and thalipeeth bhajani, or my puja area with its haldi-kunku koyri, or perhaps my sudden love for Marathi cinema. I'm eternally prepared to defend my gadh (hill fort) from this Keralite invasion - just that there isn't one forthcoming - now or anytime soon.
A, being the typical man that he is, couldn't care less for my histrionics. I am the only one watching. Give him his daily meals and keep them coming. It doesn't matter hugely if they are as Maharashtrian as the Shiv Sena, as long as they satisfy his palate. He enjoys pithla, sheera, thalipeeth as much as dosas and appams, and could beat any Marathi man in a shrikhand-eating contest. The (happy) twist in the story is this - I could not eat all-Maharashtrian food all week long. No matter how much I claim to be the next successor to Shivaji's clan. I was born in the South, brought up in the North, the East, the West and the centre. So I need my dose of upmas, idlis, dosas, parathas, makhanis and chana masalas. Oh, and pastas and pizzas. And oh oh, Chinese - the ultimate cuisine. (Lost the point again, food does that to me. Apologies!)
As I was saying, the culture clash is non-existent in our house. It makes life so much easier since our religion is the same, and hence the basic tenets of living are common. But as others in similar situations might agree, the smallest discord over we-maharashtrians-do-this and you-keralites-don't, can disrupt domestic harmony. What could begin as harmless leg-pulling over accents, for example, could suddenly land you in the middle of a shouting match about whose language is better, whose food is tastier or even whose people are smarter. What helps, I would think, is knowing personal tolerance limits to avoid potential landmines, and most importantly, laughing at yourself.
It's been repeated often enough that we can learn from other states, regions, cultures. But when you get married into one, that takes on a whole new dimension. As an Indian woman, you have been brought up to look at your husband's family as your own - their ways are to be adopted, their traditions upheld. It is lovely advice - it is how families have grown, bonded and lived as one for generations. But it's challenging even without the complications of crossing cultures. You want to protect what you think defines you, and yet, blend into a new house and a new family seamlessly, hope for them to take you as one of their own. In all this, there is no undermining the role the husband plays in making your culture his own, thus creating an atmosphere of positive exchange (A gets full marks here. And Hrithik / Akbar is outstanding. Extra marks for good looks, of course).
But as I am learning, all it takes for the appam and the puran poli to co-exist, is the will to do so. A and I try and make this exchange as interesting for each other as possible - a word a day in the other's language, cooking tips, movies, or just plain old anecdotes about Maharashtrian / Malayalee people. It gives us a window into another world (and makes us smarter than the average couple, but that is another story). So although A does speak more Marathi than I do Malayalam (oh come on, it's a really difficult language!), and we do end up eating rotis more than rice, you will find us watching the occasional Malayalam movie and if you listen real hard, that's me sprinkling Malayalee words in my conversation with my mother-in-law. Oh, gotta go......... my appam's burning!
