Off the Deep End on Her Sixtieth Birthday, My Auntie Neeli Announced Her Decision to Become an American Citizen

Off the Deep End On her sixtieth birthday, my Auntie Neeli announced her decision to become an American citizen. We were all shocked, but I was the only one in the family who was not delighted. As a newly-declared political science major, I enjoy spending hours denouncing the maneuvers of the CIA in Latin America. I like to linger over cafe lattes in dark coffeehouses, debating earnest, bearded 5 young men wearing Birkenstock sandals. My parents, however, were desperately patriotic. They fit every caricature of the typical flag-waving immigrant in love with the American dream. They had been trying to convince Auntie Neeli to become a citizen ever since she’d left India fifteen years ago. But she’d always refused to listen, stubbornly clinging to her primary mission – to protect her three nieces from Western immorality. 10 As Dad’s older sister, Auntie Neeli was given certain inalienable rights by Indian society. For example, she insisted on naming the three of us during the only fit of poetry she’s ever had. I’m Rena, and my two younger sisters are Lena and Mena. Lena’s a cheerleader in high school. We’ve been in a cold war since adolescence, when she chose makeup and teen romances and I joined the Peace and Freedom party and refused to wear a bra. Mena 15 is nine and hopelessly addicted to video games. The only common ground the three of us shared was avoiding Auntie Neeli’s six standard lectures on the vices of American life. When the family returned from City Hall, where Neelima Majumdar had been sworn in as a new citizen of the United States of America, they all looked somewhat stunned. Auntie Neeli was nowhere in sight. I had boycotted the event, but curiosity shattered my vow to maintain a disdainful silence. 20 “What happened?” I asked. “She asked for three hundred dollars,” Mom answered. “We dropped her off at the mall.” I could feel my own eyes glaze over. Auntie Neeli at the shopping mall? Auntie Neeli, whose wardrobe consisted of three different sarees in varying shades of gray? Her repertoire of lectures featured a passionate one on the sin of indiscriminate spending. Our Auntie Neeli – shopping? 25 Mena was the first to recover. “I know! She’s probably out buying us presents to celebrate,” she said. But my naive little sister was dead wrong. Later that afternoon, my door was flung open with violent energy. I leaped out of my chair and fell over a pile of books. Wild thoughts of dialing 911 or screaming for help flashed through my mind. A plump woman with short, curly black hair and purple eye shadow had broken into our home. She was wearing red suede boots and a striped miniskirt. 30 “Rena,” said the invader, in heavily-accented English. “Will you teach me to drive?” Auntie Neeli mastered the freeways, surface streets, and sidewalks in a relatively short amount of time. One morning, as she careened1 past a huge truck on I-80, I had a flashback to the summer when I was eleven. Auntie woke me up early that day, too, and led me down to the swimming pool in our backyard. ____________ 1 careened • moved forwards quickly and suddenly in an uncontrolled way BRIDGES 10.o Ano 35 Jaw set, arms folded across her chest, she stood about ten yards away from the pool. Although she didn’t know how to swim herself, she’d taken us to swimming lessons and watched the neighborhood kids squeal and splash in our pool for years. I stood beside her, shivering in my pajamas in the early morning coolness. Suddenly, Auntie Neeli took a running jump into the deep end. I stayed rooted to my spot, frozen for a minute in shock, and then 40 rushed madly to the edge of the pool. With her gray bun dripping but intact, Auntie Neeli swam to the edge and climbed up the stairs. “But, Auntie!” I gasped, helping her up. “You can’t swim.” “I’ve watched you for years,” she said, wringing out the end of her saree. “It was time to do it myself.” Neither of us ever said a word about our early morning adventure to the rest of the family. 45 “SLOWPOKE! GEEK! MOVE OVER!” shrieked Auntie Neeli, leaning out of the window and using some of her favorite new American words. A car had been crawling along at 70 in the fast lane. I was jolted out of my reverie, but it had come with a great realization. My sixty-year-old aunt possessed an unbelievable amount of the single-minded determination I mourned in my own generation. The focus of her single-mindedness – Americana – wasn’t on the top of my list, but I 50 had to admire her passionate immersion into it. I decided to become Auntie Neeli’s champion at home, where the rest of the family watched her every move with doubtful eyes. I was the one who convinced Mena to let Auntie join one of her slumber parties. “In all my years here, I’ve wanted to know just what you girls do at those sleep-over parties of yours,” Auntie had confessed to me, munching tortilla chips while I read her excerpts from Marx. 55 I didn’t quite see the connection between the freedom of the proletariat and one of Mena’s slumber parties, but I approached my little sister with Auntie’s request. In the end, Mena was just as delighted as the rest of her cronies2. Auntie shrieked3 at the oozing killer squid on the movie and sustained an admirable level of M & M consumption. I certainly didn’t let anyone know I’d heard her sneak out of the sleeping bag, tiptoe into her own bedroom, and sigh 60 with relief as she settled into her bed. The girls were still sleeping when she tiptoed back at sunrise. I was the one who talked Lena into letting Auntie accompany her to a high school football game. My parents and I watched them leave – Lena in her pleated cheerleader’s skirt and sweater with her usual entourage of entranced high school boys, and Auntie Neeli, shaking Lena’s pom-poms good-bye out of the car window. 65 When I got home, I could hear Lena and my parents in the kitchen. I knew by the weary tone in Dad’s voice that Lena’s rampage had been going on for a long time. I took a deep breath and walked in. “Never again!” My sister was saying. “I’ll never suffer through that kind of humiliation again.” “What happened?” I asked, determined to defend Auntie Neeli’s freedom of expression at any cost. ____________ 2 crony • (plural, cronies) • a friend or supporter, especially of someone powerful 3 shrieked • shouted in a loud high voice because you are frightened or surprised BRIDGES 10.o Ano “Well, as far as I can tell,” Dad said, “Neeli called the referees ‘geeks’ and ‘nerds,’ cheered wildly in the 70 wrong places, and threw her Nerf football onto the playing field at fourth and two in the last quarter.” Even I could see that the Nerf football was going a bit too far. Auntie discovered a latent love for Motown oldies. The Temptations, Stylistics, and Spinners crooned in our kitchen as she stirred up yet another exciting Tuna Helper recipe. Yes, the zeal4 for Americanization had extended even to Auntie’s cooking. We grimly chewed 75 and swallowed an endless series of frozen lasagnas, InstaPizzas and other convenience foods. She even threw her Indian spices away. I caught Dad with his shirt sleeves rolled up, digging through the garbage can with a flashlight for the jar of imported Bombay mango pickle. One evening, Auntie Neeli left for the mall. Mom and Dad were out somewhere. Lena, Mena and I exchanged glances of disgust, remembering the slabs of cold ham waiting inside the fridge. 80 Without a word, we jumped in the car and screeched5 to a stop in front of the local Indian restaurant, desperate and united in our curry deprivation. Somehow, we weren’t surprised to see our parents there, feverishly eating chicken tandoori. “AHA!” cried Mena. “Aha, yourselves,” answered Dad sheepishly6, while the waiter squeezed three more chairs 85 around the table. In spite of these annoyances, I staunchly defended Auntie Neeli’s freedom. But that changed one Sunday morning, when I became her most vocal opponent. I was leafing through the newspaper in my usual morning haze. The front door shut and I could hear Auntie Neeli humming. Suddenly, she burst into a full-fledged rendition of “Amazing Grace” 90 – words and all. “Auntie!” I shouted, rushing into the kitchen. “What are you singing and where have you been?” “Hello, sister,” she said, clasping my hand and fanning me with a cardboard fan advertising an upcoming faith healing service. I swooned7. I quoted Freud, Feuerbach, and Darwin and gave regular lectures about the Crusades, 95 the Inquisition, and Nazi Germany. But nothing made a difference. Every Sunday morning, Auntie Neeli swished8 out of the house in a big white hat, a ruffly9 white dress, and shiny white pumps, and drove to Emmanuel Jehovah African Methodist Episcopalian Church. She went to all the services, Bible studies, Ladies’ Sewing Circles, and especially the revivals. My rage was boundless10. I debated the matter with my parents, but they were disgustingly 100 tolerant of Auntie’s leap into blind faith. ____________ 4 zeal • great energy, and enthusiasm 5 screeched • made a loud and unpleasant cry, especially when you are upset 6 sheepishly • ashamed 7 swooned • extremely excited by someone who you admire 8 swished • moved quickly with a smooth gentle sound 9 ruffly • no longer smooth or even 10 boundless • without a limit or end BRIDGES 10.o Ano “Aren’t you the one who’s been defending her freedom?” my Dad asked me, peering over his reading glasses.

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