Dad called me today. He said he was upset and really couldn’t keep quiet about this one issue anymore. It was time I heard it. Oh Oh!! An alarm in my head. He said I couldn’t go to our rented apartment on the day I landed at the Bangalore airport. “It’s not a good day”, he said. I was like “what do you mean, you guys are busy that day? there’s a union strike of some sort? what was it?” He said “No, it’s just a bad day. You need to go to a hotel or somewhere else stay there for another 3 days and then move in on a good day.” This time I got it. Good = auspicious. Every day had been categorized, good, bad, horrible, ok. Every minute had been categorized: blessed or cursed. It was all right there: in their books, somewhere .. where I don’t get anymore. For those of you that have never seen this: check the image out – your day is coded in this small 2″ by something piece of paper. It was decided … I couldn’t go home until the good day arrived.
Like most Indians, I am torn. Torn between appeasing my parents whose intentions are good. Start a new life on a good day – how could that sound wrong?! If you had grown up in a middle class Indian family you would have heard this every day. Awesome intentions gone haywire. Good day, good year, good hour .. the list is endless. Give in to one and you are stuck giving in to all of them. I guess I don’t expect my parents to understand but I’m saying No to this one. Good day .. Bad day … whatever … I’m ready for this one. This tradition – I will say loudly I REJECT.