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18 A (Not So) Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Didu’s House I n 1985, between our two Peace Corps years, and thirteen years after my grandparents ventured to the Midwest, I took a midwestern farm boy to Bihar. My dadu came to the airport to pick us up in the cream-colored Ambassador. Terry was along on my family’s India adventure for the first time and would soon appear in photos on the rooftop at my aunt’s house in the middle of a sea of cousin-brothers and wives, his blond head gleaming. Jamai (son-in-law) turned up in photos all over Ranchi, his green eyes and blond hair emerging out of a cotton kurta and loose pants. At the airport that day, Dadu smoothly pulled away from the terminal at a fast clip, everyone talking. It was curious that the road was so clear of the usual traffic because though Ranchi is considered a town in India, its traffic rivals that of a large American city. I swiveled my head and saw a propeller plane off to the left and the bulk of the small terminal behind us. Curious, I looked again. Slowly, one by one, those of us visiting—my mother, father, brother, and a friend from Pittsburg—came to the realization that we were not, in fact, on a road. My dadu had ingeniously found a way to avoid some of the hassle of driving in a crowded town by zipping down the airport runway. To this day, I am not sure if he was aware of his daring choice or not. Soon after, with persuasion, A (Not So) Funny Thing Happened 147 my grandfather stopped driving and let the housekeeper’s son, Mukund, handle the wheel. What awaited my new husband at Rani Villa was the jamai’s, son-in-law’s, welcome into a Bengali family. There is an actual holiday set aside for it in Bengal, Jamaishashti, but this was a private affair. The traditional ceremony combines two cherished fixtures in Bengali households: sons-in-law and fish. Fish, especially the fish head, abounds in imagery in Bengal: fish are prosperity, they are fertility, and they are “brain food,” ensuring “khub buddhi hobe” (you will have high intelligence). Fish is held in such high esteem that at the first rice ceremony of young children, Annaprashan, even babies are presented with a cooked fish head (though they do not eat it) for its auspicious nature. Bengalis come by their love of fish naturally. The entire region of Bengal is covered in rivers, both small ones and major ones like the Ganges, the Padma, and the Brahmaputra. Freshwater fish flourish and so do the recipes for them. My husband’s first Bengali fish and official welcome into the family was scaly. It was midday and an exquisite radiant light filtered the air. There was always such light in my grandmother Rani’s dining room, due in part to the high windows, the open, screened doorway, the elevation of Ranchi’s hillocks and paddies, and in part to my feeling of delicate rightness there, a keenly felt adjustment of energy. A special pulse converged just there, right at the table where my new husband sat, a broad grin stretching across his face. In that unobstructed moment, all my searching ceased, was unmasked; it had come to this. I was touched beyond measure when, in the ceremonial way, my grandmother , Rani, prepared a large rui fish. They could have adjusted their ways and just offered him a drink or something. The men could have slapped each other on the back like my dad’s Shriner friends did in Kansas when they congratulated each other for some accomplishment. Instead, my family honored us both by simply making the fish head. He was Jamai, American or not, and the presence of the staring eyes on the head reinforced my Bengaliness somehow. Kamla bustled in the kitchen and Rani, wearing a white sari with a wide red border, chuckled as she placed a platter in front of Terry. Rani patted him on the head with a mischievous smile and my mother looked on. My grandfather, brother, and father all sat as Terry now joined the male members of the family. He wore an Indian shirt, a kurta, and told my mother that he was now the favorite son-in-law. The women laughed since this had [3.144.28.50] Project MUSE (2024-04-26...

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