After seeing this, it reminded me of the recent trip to India.  On the way to India, I tricked two people of my non-Indianess or Indianess as you may like to call it.  In this process, another person also tricked me of their Indianess!  Of course, who expects to see a ‘white American’ travel the whole way from NY to India in a salvaar kamiz with dupetta, anklets, plenty of bangles, gold earrings and hair parted with kumkum paste placed appropriately (marking the sign of marriage)?

In the NYC airport, there was a shop, something like all for $10, stocked with plenty of jewelry and ornaments, things for ladies mostly.  Many desis (Indian) were already roaming in this shop.  Even the shop keeper looked like an Indian to me.  So, I walked in.  The shop keeper came to me asking if I needed help as I looked very interested in some things there. I said I was just looking.  I noticed she was dark brown skinned, long thick black hair, wearing an Indian type dress and a bindi like mark placed almost between her perfectly manicured eyebrows (which I was jealous of as my eyebrows were wildly out of control at the time, and hence I was not wearing sticker bindi at the time).  I also noticed her name tag, Amreetha, an Indian sounding name.  So, she decided to start a conversation with me.  She asked me where I was from.  I told her upstate NY.  She said, “Originally? Where are your parents from?”  I told her. She seemed surprised. She then asked me straight out- “Are you an Indian from India?”  “Oh, no, I said. I am an American.”  “But you look like an Indian.” She said.  “Yes, I love the Indian culture, and my husband influences me.” I said as I pointed to him.  She then nodded and said, “You could’ve fooled me!”  I then asked her about herself.  I asked her “I have the same question for you.  Are you Indian?”  “No, she said, I am from the Caribbean.  Though my family isn’t from India, I think my great ancestors were, but I have no connection to India!”  She also told me about her name. I figured out on my own the bindi on her forehead was really a birthmark! What a place for a birthmark!

Later, on the flight between the Middle East and India, an Indian host on the plane asked my husband if I was Indian (he did not talk to me directly at first).  He said no.  He then asked me if I knew any Indian languages. I said I can understand some Hindi, Tamil and Malayalam and can read all three languages quite fluently, though I can’t understand what I am reading!  After serving food he asked me, “Khanaa kaisa laga?”  (Meaning in Hindi, How was the food?)  I responded, “Ah, yes it was very tasty.” I responded in English, not Hindi.  But he knew I could understand.