Nimisha Ladva - After The Fog

 

I grew up in England. Some of my earliest memories are of living in a drafty Victorian house with my family, and the family of my dad's older brother and Ba, my diabetic, dessert demanding grandmother. [audience laughter] 

 

When the moms cooked food for all 11 of us, they made a special menu for Ba because of her condition. They also made a special menu for my uncle, because he liked his things his way. At mealtimes, Ba and her sons ate first. Sometimes they were joined by the oldest and most golden grandson. And then, after they were done, the moms and the rest of us kids would eat. 

 

There were also other rules. For example, my mother, as the wife of the second ranking son, was expected to cover her face with her sari and be silent, whenever Ba or my uncle were in the room. I remember one day when I was about five years old, and Ba just starts screaming from upstairs, [foreign language] which means, “Good God, there is fog in my room. Get it out.” [audience laughter] So, we run upstairs like crazy people, because when Ba screams, that's what you do. There's no fog. It is a bright, sunny day. 

 

The diabetes has made Ba blind. It's a few months after Ba goes blind-- Because I'm five and my next cousin is six, we think it might be interesting if we were to sneak into Ba's room to see if she could tell we were there. [audience laughter] So, we do. We creep in. And of course, Ba knows, and she says, "[foreign language]" [audience laughter] which is, “Who's there? Speak.” Well, we're five and six we're cool. We don't speak. [audience laughter] We just wait until Ba falls back asleep. 

 

Then we have another great idea from the mind of a five-and-six-year-old. We decide that it would be cool if we pinched Ba. [audience laughter] I actually don't know if my cousin followed through on it or not, but I did. [audience laughter] I pinched my blind grandmother. [audience laughter] I reach out and I turn hard, and she screams. We run out. The rest of the family is charging up the stairs. They are led by my uncle, whose most important job in the world is to honor and protect his mother. 

 

My cousin and I run back in the room like, "What's upsetting Ba so much?" [audience laughter] She's screaming [foreign language], which roughly translates as, “Small girls are parasites. [audience laughter] They don't do housework and only know how to suck my blood.” [audience laughter] I am so busted. So, I look over at my mom to gauge how busted I am. She does not look upset. [audience laughter] 

  

So, I give her a very small, very secret smile. [audience laughter] But that is when my uncle's hand slaps me so hard across the head that I fall backwards. His hand is still raised in fury. When I hear my mother's voice, it sounds like ice water, “You have no right.” I just surrender to an epic meltdown. Ba speaks, “What is the use of complaining about the girl when you cannot control the mother?” There's nothing else to say, really. We continue to live in our joined family until Ba decides that her sons can live separately. I begin to live with my nuclear family for the first time. 

 

Ba eventually dies. And then, when I'm 12, my parents announce we are moving to America. So, my uncle comes to wish us goodbye. I'm waiting there with my mom, and I'm waiting for her sari to come overhead and she doesn't do it. My uncle gets closer. My heart starts thumping, and I tug on her sari to remind her about what she's supposed to do. She just taps my hand away. My uncle, as he gets right there, my parents fold themselves. They touch his feet in a gesture of respect. When they stand, he speaks first, as is his right, “May God bless you and yours. Take care of the children and do not become too American.” [audience laughter] 

 

What happens next is shift shocking to me. My mother speaks to my uncle for only the second time in my life. And she says, “Thank you for your blessing. We will take care of the children.” My uncle simply folds himself in half and hugs me and my brother. When he stands, there are tears in his eyes. And I know in America, I'm going to have a very different life than my mother has had.