Chak De India!

I’m not gonna lie: I’m a total band wagon jumper when it comes to sports. Or more precisely, sports playoffs. I can go for years without thinking about or watching a sport, but when there’s a World Cup/Super Bowl or a team playing from the city/state/province/country that I happen to be in, I’m a Fan. (I think Fan with a capital F means I’m aware of the game and at least present where it’s being shown. A FAN would be someone with a jersey, face paint or someone who knows at least 2 players names).

Anyway. So before I met Varun, I think I vaguely knew cricket was a sport. Post Meeting Varun, I began to see it on TV at times and we brought a cricket bat home from India and “taught” my brothers to play. Which is another story for another day. But this month, the Cricket World Cup is on and Varun has been waking up at odd hours (4:30 am) to stream matches and yell at the computer in Hinglish. Naturally, my interest has been mildly piqued.

An aside. If you’ve never watched/played/slept through cricket before, let me clarify something: watching this game is a serious time investment. To illustrate. A few weeks ago we slept over at our Indian friend’s (Y) house so the guys could wake up at 5 and watch the match. Y’s fiancee, who is a lovely white girl like me, was working a night shift and texted Y at 7:30 saying, “How was the match?”. The guys erupted in laughter: in 90 minutes 1/4 of the game had not yet finished!

Cricket is a 6+ hour affair, so get comfortable.

This morning was the semi-finals and it was India V. Pakistan. This is something akin to the America-Canada Men’s Olympic Hockey game. If the USA cared about Hockey. And Canada, for that matter. I digress.

Varun woke up early and got his cricket on. By the semi-finals, my bandwagon impulses were going so I woke up and did schoolwork and made chai while observing Varun’s cheers.

The excitement is, of course, contagious. So, in a moment of near-patriotism (if one can feel patriotic toward a country one was neither born in nor lived in), I made an all-out Indian breakfast. Lucknowi omelets, parantha and chai. By the time Varun left for work at 9, India had finished their turn and it was “half-time”. The remainder of the morning was spent texting the score back and forth until finally, around 1 pm, India won! I gotta admit, I’m kind of excited. For upcoming game, and the delicious breakfast we’ll enjoy Saturday morning before the sun rises!

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Happy Blog-aversary!

Varun and I went to two birthday parties today, one for a dog, and one for a friend. But today is also another birthday: this blog’s! Wooo! As of today, I’ve been blogging here for one year.

Recently, Varun and I were chatting…
Me (in Hindi): You’re an owl’s husband
Varun: What?!
Me: (repeated it again, in Hindi)
Varun: Why would you say that?
Me: I saw it in a Hindi movie, and it seemed funny.
Varun: That’s an insult!
Me: Why? What’s wrong with owls?
Varun: They’re the dumbest creatures!
Me: They are? What?! No. Owls are the wisest creatures.
Varun: They just sit there and go “WHO WHO”.
Me: Seriously? In every story Owls are the wise ones. Is this an India thing?
Varun: I guess. Owl’s are dumb.
Me: Oh. Oops. Sorry.
(Laughter)

In a sense, I think this is what this blog is all about. One or both of us says something wrong/stupid/confusing/awkward/un-understandable due largely in part to culture, we laugh, we figure it out, we laugh some more. Sometimes there’s a bit more fighting and frustration than I post here. But that’s why this is a blog, and not a reality TV show (nor a window into our house). Someday, maybe Varun and I will wake up and realize we aren’t confused by each other anymore (HA!). But until that day, I’m going to keep laughing and keep blogging.

(Sorry for the sappiness, all of you who though this was just a funny blog. Sometimes (rarely) I’m serious)
(Props to my sister for sending me the mix with this, my new favorite song, on it)

To my awesomely hilarious, funny and patient husband:

No Stilletos Here

The other evening, we were at a friend’s house and Varun was telling the story about how we met and fell in love.

Varun: And by then, I was head over heels in love with her. Wait, No. Is that right?
Me: Yup, that’s the right phrase.
Varun: Can guys be “head over heels”? I don’t wear high heels!
(Laughter)

(Never thought about it that way…)

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