House Warmed

This Saturday, I was invited to a friend’s housewarming party. Actually it was a townhouse warming party but what the heck it is a piece of real-estate you own in upscale suburbia. She came to Atlanta three years back and is nicely settled with an IT job; happily married to a guy who is in business school — living the American dream. It is interesting how Indian couples have moved away from the traditional lifestyle of man works while woman manages their home. Their family, hailing from the Hindi heartland is as traditional and conservative as it can get but I don’t see any discontent. Her parents have no qualms about their son-in-law studying while their daughter works. I just wonder if it would still be the same if they lived in India. Anyways, they seemed to be doing well now and did go through some tough times; some of which I was witness to. The house was packed with a motley collection of friends, some with family and others with no intentions of having a family in the near future. The antics of the children either amused you or just frayed your nerves. We departed from our usual gift of a houseplant and splurged on a fancy crystal jug at Crate and Barrel. But we needn’t have bothered, as the couple still had our bamboo plant from last year and were half-expecting a long-lost twin to complete the set.

We were given the mandatory “Tour de Ghar”, complete with a view of the humungous walk-in wardrobe that almost all new house owners love showing off. Owning your own property has a sense of charm that no rented apartment can ever give you. Everyone broke off into small groups making small talk and exchanging pleasantries with strangers that you might never meet again. But then such small talk is courteous at social gatherings and even mildly amusing when I have to explain what exactly public policy is. I bet my professors will burst out laughing if they hear me explain it to the layman. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when dinner was announced and there was literally a mad scramble after a brief hesitation. We realized how our stomachs were unaccustomed to oily food when the fried puris gave everyone a queasy feeling as soon as we reached home. I wish I had stuck to pulao instead.

The party broke up as soon as everyone was done with the food. Gladly it wasn’t just us practicing the art of KPK (khao-peeo-khisko). Everyone left as quickly as they had arrived. The house seemed pretty warm by the time we left, so I guess the hosts were happy.


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  • http://twilightfairy.rediffblogs.com Twilight Fairy

    Yeah..owning ur own house is quite a different feeling altogether :-).. that walk-in wardrobe thing reminded me of a scene in Bride and prejudice.. I guess you might not have seen it since for some weird reason it’s not released in US yet..

  • http://patrix.typepad.com Patrix

    Twilight Fairy – Yup! Haven’t seen BaP yet…will know what you are talking about once I do.

  • Thinktank..

    “I just wonder if it would still be the same if they lived in India.” Buddy, it seems u havent been back home in a loooong time. The other day I heard our house maid telling my Mom that she was having a headache coz the night before she was out boozing with her husband and another couple.(God knows where they went and how this is related to the blog post!)

  • http://toinkdom1.rediffblogs.com toinks

    :o) KPK is the perfect thing to do. Sachi, especially when you are not the small talk person…!

  • http://patrix.typepad.com Patrix

    Thinktank – I guess it just has been a long time..but a maid with a hangover? sounds like things sure are changing..dunno for better or for worse though :)

    Toinks – Seems like you too love doing that :)

  • m

    guess you aint ready for neither house nor warming eh??????

  • http://patrix.typepad.com Patrix

    M – I guess I have things to do before I get to that.

  • http://allfiguredout.rediffblogs.com ShaL

    man, one thing i dont understand is how can u be an indian and live the american dream…..its totally weird like an american living the indian dream…like the firang sadhus in kashi or Tom Alter !!! weird. it wud never make me happy.

  • http://patrix.typepad.com Patrix

    ShaL – The American Dream is just a metaphor used to depict the expectations of an immigrant trying to eke out a living in America. According to me, it is a completely neutral term…merging with the mainstream of the place you live in.

  • http://allfiguredout.rediffblogs.com ShaL

    ok u set me thinking….

    well, does that mean we dont differentiate between the two places…the place where u eke out a living and the place u live in…heyy one is temporary the other is home. atleast for me.

    and home cannot be defined by smone else’s dream.

    …as for the American dream it does not apply only to immigrants its quite simply defined as the following mandatory things my own home, my own dog, my own car and my plush job with happenning weekends…a spouse and kids are optional…..so there are a whole lot of people outside of america u see, who are living the american dream because what dream you want to live is not dependent on the country its in your mind ! thats the bigger picture…..

    the indian dream is slightly more evolved than the american dream of the good life coz it factors in some more goodies like dharma and nirvana from brahmacharya to sanyasa…. so, :D if a family is doing that somewhere in a townhouse in the US they r still living the indian dream, albeit without knowing it ! thats almost sad !!

    hmm i think i am spamming ur comments section….ha ha ha…pardon monsieur.

  • http://patrix.typepad.com Patrix

    ShaL – Interesting. But I still beg to differ. You mention “goodies like dharma and nirvana from brahmacharya to sanyasa” as an important part of the so-called Indian dream but no family struggling for a decent existence has spiritual things on their mind. Own an apartment, have kids, occassional trip either to Esselworld or the nearest waterfall, movies at the cineplex, cheap veggies, uninterrupted power supply esp.during a movie/game, and not missing a single episode of Ekta Kapoor’s trash can be central to an Indian dream…variations exist but this is a typical middle-class dream.

    Same goes for the American dream but more suited for their tastes…Not touting one over the other. Incidentally the immigrants work and live in the same place and admit it or not, call America their home after a while…similarly as a South Indian would call Matunga his home rather than Chennai and lives the Mumbai dream.

    Open for more thoughts…don’t worry about spamming.