Watching "The Namesake"
Yesterday night, my roommate and I watched "The Namesake," the movie with Kal Penn that's based on the book by Jhumpa Lahiri. I never got through the entire book (lack of time, lack of will, the book got kind of depressing, etc) but I wanted to see the movie. Instant gratification, if you will. So in our last hurrah before finals (I ought to be studying right now...!) we rented from blockbuster, popped it in after dinner, and proceeded to watch. I explained to Roomie beforehand, "I've heard this is really sad, if I start crying, just ignore me." She understood, we're kindred spirits like that.
My thoughts on the book were emotional. I really stopped reading the book because I was saddened by it: Ashima leaves her home, her family, makes a new life with her husband whom she doesn't know well at all. She is surrounded by strangers. When she is able to come to terms with her new way of living, the way things are different, she has to run up against new obstacles every day: how to raise two children in a way that is at once Bengali and American, how to keep them attuned to the old, while not disadvantaging them in the new.
The movie and the book both put a lot of focus on Gogol, the son, as they should. After all, they're called "The Namesake" for a reason: they discuss Gogol's struggle to find his identity in the world. In that vein, "The Namesake" is a story about me and all the other American-born children who have to come to terms with the fact that WE WILL NEVER TRULY FIT IN. I know plenty of people who are doing a great job being American, or a great job of being good Indian kids. Very few seem to have both worlds in complete harmony, but we all can share stories of our parents' eye-roller moments, or how the rest of the family is bickering again, and we understand.
But despite the apparent focus on Gogol and his non-relationship with his father, the story is Ashima's. The movie ends with Ashima sitting with a guru in India, picking up her classical music training where she left off before marriage. That scene shows you that this is truly the story of a wife and mother. This is her and my mother's story. Of course there are plot differences, but the same basic facts remain the same. My mother left India, her professorship at a university, her family, her way of life, to follow my father, a man she married 3 days after meeting. She lived with my father's family until her green card to the U.S. was approved, then she picked up everything and flew to New York. I can only imagine how tiring, worrisome, and frightening those first few days were. She had to remake herself to make things work here. And she is constantly changing to suit the environment... so many things are the same as India, but life is so different. She's been her for over 22 years now. She worries about us, her children, more so because I'm away at school, more so because I'm getting to the age where I'm wondering about MY future life. But despite having raised her children here and having spent the last third of her life in this place, I don't know if she will ever consider this home. I wonder what her future holds. I wonder what my father's future holds. There are so many things that are so uncertain. But I admire and respect my parents so much for what they did. I know that plenty of other people have done the same thing and uprooted their lives for the sake of change, necessity, a better life. But I hope those that come will never fully adjust to an American lifestyle. I hope that we'll never completely be able to fit in. Our way of life is so unique. We are different from both other Indians and other Americans. Citizenship means very little when you consider how much you've taken from both sides of the ocean.
My thoughts on the book were emotional. I really stopped reading the book because I was saddened by it: Ashima leaves her home, her family, makes a new life with her husband whom she doesn't know well at all. She is surrounded by strangers. When she is able to come to terms with her new way of living, the way things are different, she has to run up against new obstacles every day: how to raise two children in a way that is at once Bengali and American, how to keep them attuned to the old, while not disadvantaging them in the new.
The movie and the book both put a lot of focus on Gogol, the son, as they should. After all, they're called "The Namesake" for a reason: they discuss Gogol's struggle to find his identity in the world. In that vein, "The Namesake" is a story about me and all the other American-born children who have to come to terms with the fact that WE WILL NEVER TRULY FIT IN. I know plenty of people who are doing a great job being American, or a great job of being good Indian kids. Very few seem to have both worlds in complete harmony, but we all can share stories of our parents' eye-roller moments, or how the rest of the family is bickering again, and we understand.
But despite the apparent focus on Gogol and his non-relationship with his father, the story is Ashima's. The movie ends with Ashima sitting with a guru in India, picking up her classical music training where she left off before marriage. That scene shows you that this is truly the story of a wife and mother. This is her and my mother's story. Of course there are plot differences, but the same basic facts remain the same. My mother left India, her professorship at a university, her family, her way of life, to follow my father, a man she married 3 days after meeting. She lived with my father's family until her green card to the U.S. was approved, then she picked up everything and flew to New York. I can only imagine how tiring, worrisome, and frightening those first few days were. She had to remake herself to make things work here. And she is constantly changing to suit the environment... so many things are the same as India, but life is so different. She's been her for over 22 years now. She worries about us, her children, more so because I'm away at school, more so because I'm getting to the age where I'm wondering about MY future life. But despite having raised her children here and having spent the last third of her life in this place, I don't know if she will ever consider this home. I wonder what her future holds. I wonder what my father's future holds. There are so many things that are so uncertain. But I admire and respect my parents so much for what they did. I know that plenty of other people have done the same thing and uprooted their lives for the sake of change, necessity, a better life. But I hope those that come will never fully adjust to an American lifestyle. I hope that we'll never completely be able to fit in. Our way of life is so unique. We are different from both other Indians and other Americans. Citizenship means very little when you consider how much you've taken from both sides of the ocean.