Anmol Pavade (34:03)
So today's story is a story from my 13 year old self. And I know when I was thinking about this story and y'all might be thinking, wow, like 13, like that's a time that I really don't want to remember. And trust me, I really tried to push it deep down, deep down inside. But the reason why I kind of really wanted to highlight the story is because 13 was a really pivotal time in my life. 13 was when I started to form opinions and started to get really Pissed at the world and ask questions, much to my parents disappointment. Child of immigrant. Hey, eldest daughter. Hey. Yep. So I'm going to take you guys on a journey. It is the summer of 2011. I am 13 years old. It's my summer break in between middle school and high school. Yeah, I'm feeling a lot of things, A lot of things are going on, a lot of hormonal changes, all that good stuff. And I am so excited to go on our, like, annual family vacation. My dadima, my dad's mom, is visiting from India on her, like, biannual trip. She'll always like, come and visit every couple of years. And you know, we're getting ready to show her the coast. We're getting ready to show her California what we're really known for. And to give you guys a little bit of context within my identity of being Indian Indian. I am north and South Indian. My mom is a Punjabi Sikh and my dad is a Hindu Tamil from Tamil Nadu. Unless you're really from India and you know what India is like and how incredibly vast and huge India is, that might not mean much to you, but like, when I say it's the north and the south, like, it's really the north and the south, like two completely different places, two completely different religions, languages, the food is completely different, the way they dress is different. Like, everything is so different to the point where my parents were basically like my family's own Romeo and Juliet because there was that much drama involved with them getting together. And yes, they had a love marriage, not an arranged marriage. So super dramatic. So, you know, we're getting ready to go on our family vacation and. And maybe like a couple days before the vacation, we get a call from my mommy, my aunt, letting me know that my bg, my great grandmother from my mom's side is on her DeathBed now. My BG, she's Punjabi. She's the one from my mom's side of the family. She was quite a force of nature. Later on, in doing some reflecting, I see so much of myself in her. She was an eldest daughter, you know, she got married at 19, grew up in colonial British India, had to escape her village during the partition when Britain decided to overnight draw a line and tell people where to go and displace so many individuals. She, you know, even though she was able to mobilize her own family after that time and was doing well, she made sure that she always, you know, invested in the community. Something that is so important to me. She was an artist, a fiber artist who was really into knitting and crocheting, who would always make my sweaters. Growing up she would take me to Joann's and let me pick out my own fabric for my pajamas. And you know, it's these little memories that like reflecting back now, I'm like wow, times were tough. But I never felt that, you know, I felt so much abundance in her sweaters, in my handmade hand knit clothes. And she was the one who moved first to California in the 70s, brought our family here, which you know, later on in the 90s when I decided to be born, you know, it was a little bit of a disruption because my mom happened to be visiting, but I was like, just kidding. I'm gonna be born three weeks early. I don't want to be a Scorpio. For any astrology nerds out there, sorry. Love you guys. But you know I was born here, America, living the dream. And her son, my Mamu, my uncle was one of the people in my family that just couldn't accept my parents marriage. Now there is some context to that. You know, there was a lot of political strife and nuance in between Hindus and Sikhs post the 80s. There was a, you know, huge riot that happened that was anti Sikh after the assassination of Indira Gandhi and that that's a whole other historical moment that I highly recommend folks to look up. It's quite sad but my mom just never really accepted my family. And so finding out that my BG is on our deathbed, we decided to all of a sudden scrap our plans, be like, okay, we're not going up the coast anymore. No, we're going to go to Colorado. We're going to make a crazy trip across from California to Colorado and, and that's exactly what happened. So overnight, you know, I'm seeing my two grandmothers, my North Indian Punjabi grandmother on one side of the stove cooking chai and parante and pakoras, like all these North Indian delicacies. And then seeing my other grandma, my dadima from the south, making filter coffee, making vada, all these like South Indian delights and then just packing up the chest full. I know we all like children of immigrants. We all have that chest that our parents packed up where it's like we're not going to go and get fast food. No, we have enough food on this trip. We're eating good, we're eating this. So they're packing up this stuff and we're packing up our 1998 clunker of a van. It was a Chevy that my dad bought off of a old Co worker that we used to call Barney that we would take all over the States. But you know, we're packing that up and we're overnight, we make our trip to Colorado. Now on the trip over there, being the disruptor that I am, being the pissed off 13 year old that I am, I'm asking questions and questions that no one really wanted to answer. You know, I'm this again, pissed off, very hormonal. I'm someone who wasn't feeling Indian enough at a lot of times, who didn't feel American enough, who didn't feel Tamil enough, who didn't feel Punjabi enough. I spoke Hindi, but I didn't speak speak Tamil or Punjabi. And I was just confused and I didn't understand why it was so normal for someone who was such a big part of my family to openly not acknowledge my family and the fact that we had to go across States to go see my great grandma on her deathbed. So, you know, fast forward through the trip, we show up and I find out that, you know, my great grandmother, obviously because of morphine, had been super out of it the entire time before we were coming. But that day she just so happened to be super coherent. And we spent two days with her drinking chai, eating Matai sweets. We listened to her stories, we laughed. And in between, obviously, I got up into my old like 13 year old shenanigans, you know, playing with my cousins, sneaking off to the 711 that my uncle owned and stealing Slurpees from him. Because I was like, this is enough like reparations for me at this time. Thank you for all those Slurpees. Not enough. Obviously I'm still pissed. But you know, there is a point where we're watching she's the man and I'm like watching Amanda Bynes pretend to be a boy living out like her dream of playing soccer for this school. And I'm like, wow, I'm not necessarily playing soccer, but like I'm definitely in disguise here. I'm masking a lot, you know, and it was, you know, multiple moments throughout that trip where I realized that like I wasn't able to, to fully feel my grief because I didn't really know what exactly it was in that moment, but I knew that there was something there and that there was something that I was just confused by. And so, you know, fast forward. It's the last day of the trip, I'm talking to my bg, my sister is there, we're saying goodbye, which of course is going to take like five hours longer. Than we expected, because why would it go on time? But, you know, my sister is there crying, telling my bg, like, don't worry. I'm gonna make you proud. I'm gonna be a doctor. And I'm like, well, dang, that's a lot of pressure. Like, I don't think I'm gonna be a doctor, but, like, I'm gonna be me, so. Hope you like that in the afterlife. Yeah, but, you know, it's moments where in sitting down and kind of talking to her and hearing her stories, I realized that's honestly the most I really ever talked to to my bg. Oftentimes, she was this strong, stoic, silent woman who I never really heard her say, I love you, But I felt her love through different things, like knitting my sweaters or cooking me food, you know? And I'll never forget we went through the, like, classic dance, the money dance, where, like, elders are trying to give you money when you're leaving, and you're like, I'm not supposed to accept this. My parents are glaring daggers through my back, but it's disrespectful if I don't. And eventually she's like, just take the money. And I'm like, okay, I'll take the money. And, you know, I take this $20 from my BG and I give her a kiss, and I tell her I love her, and she tells me that she loves me. And, you know, eventually, we make our way out of the house and back on to California. And on our way back, we stop by the Grand Canyon, which is my first time at the Grand Canyon. And I stopped in the gift store, and, you know, jewelry is really important to women in my family. Gold was the way that you protected yourself. And so something that I wanted to do was honor my grandma. I actually bought this turquoise ring that's on my middle finger here today, that day, with that $20 that she gave me. And I've had it ever since. And, yeah, I share this story because there's so many women and people in my lineage who were never able to share their stories, who weren't able to speak up. And it's such a privilege that I'm able to take up space on this stage here today. And for my BG and for all those people, I'm here to disrupt and to tell those stories. And so I'm so thankful that I got to spend that time with her that day. And she's around me all the time. But that's a story for another time. So thank you.