Bapa and My Second Set of Family in India

"Call on me in prayer and I will answer you. I will show you great and mysterious things which you still do not know about."-Jeremiah 33:3

I have never directly quoted the Bible in anything I have written so far, but this seems really apt. I think that I have forgotten what it is like to pray and what relief one gets from praying, and just when I thought I have stopped praying, I get to experience something unexpected, something worth sharing.

I am on my last quarter through my place of assignment as a volunteer and  my day to day experiences vary from good to bad or worse to great. I am learning 3 virtues so far : acceptance, patience and humility.

It is never easy for me. For those who know me at my worst, these three words are not my strongest points.

As I face the challenges of my assignment something really good happened and I am finding it so overwhelmingly surreal.

I have been to Bolangir, a rural district in Western Orissa, where my NGO operates, and since my arrival in India, the last two weeks were the longest I have stayed there. Logistics and working remotely have been a steady prick for my placement but then Pinky, one of my colleagues suggested that I can stay at their home. I did not say no because I wanted to get my work done before I leave in 2 months. Hence the beginning of my story.

Bapa and Pinky are the only ones in the family that speak English, the rest, we manage by smiling and signing. Ma is a loving mother who always have time to chat with her children, always ready to show affection and love. She is always ready with her plate of snacks and bottomless chai.

Pinky has a sister Rinky and 2 brother Babu and Bapun. They are my Indian brothers and sisters. They wait for me at meal time and they make sure I am home before sunset.

Bapa and I chat every afternoon after work. We talk about Indian and Filipino culture. We talk about politics in the Indian and Filipino context, Hinduism and Catholicism. We even talked about Cricket!

One night he asked me when I was going back home and I told him my standard line when being asked the question,"when my visa expires in June". He then said and I will never forget, "Terri your departure will be sorrowful for me and your mother here. It is like a punishment. You are lucky you have two sets of parents in this lifetime, one in the Philippines and one here in India. Please tell your friends about us and remember us when you are back home."

I was speechless. I always am when I am overwhelmed and when I try to hold back an emotion. I wanted to hug Bapa and answer him the question he first asked me the first night I stayed in their home, if I believed in rebirth or reincarnation.

I thought in that instant, and I felt something fuzzy inside, that he could have really been my father who is long gone now.

This was how we were too back in the days, afternoon chatting is what I miss most about my old man.

Bapa brought me to the bus station when it was time for me to return to Bhubaneswar where I live. He made sure I was alright. Awkwardly we reached the wrong bus. A man approached me to tell me that and so to call Bapa's attention, who was almost ready to hop inside the wrong bus to check it, I shouted "Bapa!" and he turned around and I thought I saw his eyes turn red.

I did not know how to say goodbye to him. At home, I would have reached for his hand and place it on my forehead or what a Filipino culture would call "Pagmamano" or "Mano po", it is a sign of respect to elders, when arriving or leaving. In India, they would sort of bend almost kneeling to reach for the elder's feet and make a sign as if to kiss it, but I did not know how to do it right.

When he was sure I was settled in my sleeper berth in the bus, he walked away before I could say something. but he looked back and said "Terri come back in April ok and stay here till before you leave. Your brothers and sisters would like you to celebrate your birthday with us. Make us Filipino and Chinese food. Promise no more mountain of rice". I said I will definitely return and he walked away with a smile.

I will return soon and I intend to stay longer. I am glad my NGO did not work out an accommodation for me in Bolangir or I would have missed the opportunity to have evening snacks and night suppers sitting on the floor with my Indian family, and the chance to be part of this really wonderful family.

Next trip I will make them Adobo and I will also teach them how to use chopsticks. I will also bring photos of my family back home.

It is still early to preempt it but Bapa and my second set of family in India will make leaving India the hardest goodbye since 1997.

"Lenga" (A Bridal Dress)

She wore an elegant lenga, a bridal dress that is similar to a saree but it is less complicated . She looked stunningly beautiful in her Lenga, but there was something in her eyes, amidst the smile. It was not just about the Lenga for her, it was more about the responsibilities and duties of wearing the gorgeous dress. She smiled dutifully and carried the dress so elegantly but her smile troubled me.

She whispered to me, "look at my lipstick, I didn't even get to choose the color." She was being dolled up by her sisters in law earlier today for a belated reception of their December civil wedding.

She is a new acquaintance in Bhubaneswar, and because she was alone in this county for what is supposed to be the biggest event of her life, she phoned me and practically begged me to be with her, being a fellow Filipina, just so she can have a representative of her family and friends who are not able to make it here for this event.

She felt alone and lonely.

I did not have to ask why.

A wedding in my culture (or at least from the experiences of my friends) is all about the bride. From the wedding motif, font used for the invitations, down to the tiny bit of sequin used on the wedding dress, the bride gets to decide.

Not today though.

It was all about him. It was about presenting the bride to the groom's friends and family.

She carried her duties without complains, but I can feel the pain of loneliness whenever she puts on a smile. It was hard enough to speak in a foreign language. All she could do was smile.

Who am I to make my judgments. I was just witnessing a cultural fusion but I could not see a bit of Filipino in that reception today. I could not even see a bit of her individuality in that fabulous wedding reception. She did not even pick her own lipstick color.

She then told me in her own native tongue that she did fall in love with her groom but she never thought marriage entailed marrying an entire culture, and giving up hers along the way.

I felt like giving her a hug as I would to a younger sister, but in reality I do not have a sister and it was wrong for me to feel pity on her, because the last thing she needed was a fellow Filipina patronizing her.

I am not making any judgments. I just could not help myself but think about her smile and how painful her smile was.

In as much as I feel like opening up to a whole new idea of widening my horizons to open myself up to the whole idea of wanting to be a "new" me, I just could not imagine myself being in her position.

Falling in love is a beautiful thing I suppose, but marriage is simply not just about that.

I would like to think that I can change for the man I would choose to spend the rest of my life with, but I just could not bring myself to imagine giving up even my own individuality and losing myself somewhere between the thin line of falling in love and sealing it off.

How far can one go for a commitment?

What am I willing to give up for the sake of loving?

Is love really enough?

I cannot help it though that there are times when I wish I too can wear a "Lenga" or a wedding dress, but when I think of brides with a pained smile, I am certainly back to my own realities.

My friends and my family will just have to wait, hopefully not unto infinity though, when I am able and willing to give up my "running away" from a commitment of even a serious relationship minus the wedding.

Not yet.

Not for a while.