Meghana was excited. She was going on a picnic with her cousins the following day.
Ten-year-old Meghana was obsessed with everything foreign. Lately, she had become pretty conceited as well. She had little regard for Indian culture. Her mother had often tried to knock some sense into her but to no avail.
♦♦♦
The next day, Meghana settled for a pair of white shorts and a deep, red T-shirt. She wore a tea-colored straw hat.
She walked down to Lakdi ka pul, one of Hyderabad’s oldest suburbs, where she was supposed to meet her cousins.
‘Hey, Amit, Sneha and Nikhil!’ she cried as she strode over to the peepal tree under which they stood.
‘Boy! You’re wearing a nice outfit!’ exclaimed Sneha.
Meghana blushed. ‘Thanks,’ she muttered sarcastically. She was actually wearing simple clothes.
‘Where’s Aunt Nita?’ she asked abruptly, changing the subject.
‘Oh, she’s probably outside a tea shop to get some tea leaves and coconuts,’ said Amit.
‘Poof!’ Meghana spat out in disdain. ‘I hate tea leaves and coconuts!’
Sneha, Amit and Nikhil were Aunt Nita’s children. Meghana was an only child. She was pampered.
‘Oh, there’s mummy!’ squeaked Sneha. Soon, they were off to the picnic spot.
‘Aren’t we going to the Jamburee Hill?’ asked Nikhil.
‘Of course,’ said Meghana. ‘Don’t you know, Hyderabad is a hillside place?’
‘I’m not such a simpleton as you think!’ said Nikhil crossly.
‘I don’t!’ snapped Meghana.
‘There, there, don’t you two start squabbling now!’ said Aunt Nita, stepping on the brake. ‘If you do that one more time, we’re going home.’
♦♦♦
They were at the Jamburee Hills at last. The picnic party chose a fine spot away from the sunlight. Sneha and Meghana spread a sheet on the grass and laid the snacks thereon.
Nikhil began observing birds through his binoculars.
‘Look!’ Meghana was excited. ‘Foreigners! They must be Americans!’ she said to Sneha.
‘So?’ Sneha was hardly bothered. ‘They, too, are human beings like us.’
Meghana was aghast. ‘I just mentioned it,’ she murmured defensively. However, she was having a hard time concealing her excitement. It seemed like a family comprising a tall woman of 6 feet 2 and a blond man. They also had three kids – two girls and a boy.
Aunt Nita had dozed off, a magazine in hand. Amit and Nikhil had gone to bathe in the stream. Meghana, meanwhile, walked over to the Americans.
‘Hi,’ she said casually to one of the blond girls. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Mine?’ asked the girl politely. She had aquamarine blue eyes.
‘Suzanne Whitman.’ The girl had a strong American accent. She was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a sleeveless, light rose T-shirt. The other members of the American family seemed surprised.
‘What made you – er, I mean, are you bored or anything?’ asked Suzanne abruptly.
‘Yeah!’ said Meghana. ‘My brothers are playing in the pond. My aunt is snoozing and my little sister is taking random snaps on her camera.’
Suzanne introduced Meghana to her family. ‘This is my brother, Charlie Whitman. He’s twelve. This here is my sister, Fanny Whitman, who’s six. And I’m ten. And these are my parents.’
The mother smiled courteously and the man nodded emphatically.
‘Why don’t you all go and chat amongst yourselves?’ suggested Mr. Whitman as he settled down on the grass and opened a book.
‘Hello,’ greeted Charlie and Fanny, smiling suspiciously.
‘Are you in India on vacation?’ asked Meghana as they walked down to the stream.
‘Yeah,’ said Charlie. ‘We’re from New York, you know. We’re here to meet our relatives. And also for sightseeing, yeah.’
The American drawl was fairly difficult for Meghana to understand. The four kids sat under a peepal tree.
‘How do you find India?’ asked Meghana impulsively.
‘Oh, well, India is a very interesting place, I think!’ said Charlie as she bit into a pinkish hamburger.
‘Yep. I’ve always been in love with Indian tradition and culture,’ remarked Suzanne. ‘I’ve been all over the South of India and tasted Indian food and loved it. Indian dance and music are pretty exotic and enthralling. In fact, Indian culture is quite rich and different from other cultures.’
‘Yeah,’ quipped Fanny. ‘I find it kind of intellectually wealthy but conservative.’
‘I’ve been learning Indian dance for the last one week. I’m a student of Bharatnatyam and Kathak,’ added Suzanne.
‘I’ve heard that there hundreds of languages here. Every language, cuisine, clothing, dance, music, and culture is quite unique and meaningful and has been passed down the generations without much changes. It’s simply astonishing! There’s so much warmth in family relationships. Indian families are bound by love and affection. We’re surprised to see how you celebrate your festivals with such enthusiasm, fervor, and unity. One doesn’t get to see this kind of interaction in our country. I mean, India is a melting pot of languages, cultures, cuisines, religions, and traditions!’ Suzanne was waxing eloquent about India. Her words were brimming with passion. She sounded like some sort of a self-proclaimed Indophile.
Meghana, meanwhile, had gone red. She was overcome by guilt and remorse. ‘Oh my!’ she thought. ‘I’ve never admired Indian culture. And here are some American kids heaping praise on my country.’ To say that she felt ashamed would be an understatement.
‘And the dance school I go to is excellent,’ Suzanne gushed. ‘The teachers there…’
‘Which city do you live in?’ Meghana changed the subject. She had had enough of the Americans’ praise for India.
‘We live in Albany, New York,’ said Fanny.
‘I’ve been to the States once. I’ve seen the Grand Canyon National Park in Arizona. It’s breathtaking,’ said Meghana.
‘You have?’ queried Suzanne, surprised.
‘Yeah, it’s a wonderful place,’ said Meghana. ‘Why don’t you come over and have snacks with us?’
They walked over to where Meghana’s folks were sitting. Meghana introduced her new friends to her cousins and Aunt Nita. At half past six, Aunt Nita glanced at her watch. ‘Let’s go home,’ she said, forcing a smile. ‘It was nice meeting you. We can exchange phone numbers and meet up later.’
‘Oh, same to you, and thanks,’ drawled Charlie in her unmissable American accent. ‘We’ll let our parents know.’
♦♦♦
As Meghana, Aunt Nita, and her cousins walked back to their car, Meghana’s quiet demeanor didn’t go unnoticed by everyone.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Amit. ‘Why so quiet?’
‘Er… nothing. Those Americans told me everything they liked about India. On the other hand, I’m an Indian, and yet I never understood the value of our culture.’
All of them burst out laughing.
‘Well, at least now you’ll follow our culture and stop behaving like an alien,’ quipped Aunt Nita.
And indeed, Meghana had learned to see the positives in her culture. She would gradually stop being arrogant too, won’t she?
As fond of writing a good story as he is of reading one, Pravin is one of the most promising writers at Ameya. He can be contacted at pravinkumar2788@gmail.com.