I've been reading your newsletter every time you post it, but don't usually find time to respond (or indeed have much to say by way of response...) This time, however, I am inspired.
What a lovely picture! If you have a higher res version you can share, I would love to have it.
It was interesting to read your perspective on some of the strange colorist, sexist chants and games we played at that age, but I think your implied assessment that we were unaware of their meaning is a bit simplistic. I think it is more that we were not yet at a stage where we had a framework to reject them. I mean, there was this game, that had come from somewhere. It is a little weird, but how do you get from there to saying that you do not want to play it? Or at least, perhaps I should not speak for the others, but that was how it was for me. It was all part of the same package as "don't say you are an atheist" and "don't say you like math" and so many other such things. Because then, suddenly you might find yourself with no friends... It took me a long time to shed that baggage (to the extent that I have shed it.)
I also found your story about "bowing to the prettiest" quite interesting. I do not remember that incident, or even that particular game. Was I there? Anyway, once again I wonder whether there is more at play than your interpretation. It is certainly very true that Indian girls are inculcated with the idea that fair is beautiful, and there was probably at least some of that going on. But keep in mind we had all known each other nearly since birth. We had our politics and our shifting alliances. As a newcomer, you were exotic. everyone would have wanted you on side. And everyone would have wanted to make you feel welcome. (Probably everyone would also have been told to make you feel welcome, but that is a separate matter.) In support of my theory, I'll mention that there was a Korean visitor another year who received similar adoration.
Anyway, thank you for the trip down memory lane. I look at the picture and realize that I don't really know what has happened to any of those girls (except one who died young in tragic circumstances). You are the only one from that group that I am even remotely "still in touch with", even if that only means exchanging birthday wishes every three-ish years.
Looking forward to your next newsletter, and honestly, your next book!
Dear Anjali,
I've been reading your newsletter every time you post it, but don't usually find time to respond (or indeed have much to say by way of response...) This time, however, I am inspired.
What a lovely picture! If you have a higher res version you can share, I would love to have it.
It was interesting to read your perspective on some of the strange colorist, sexist chants and games we played at that age, but I think your implied assessment that we were unaware of their meaning is a bit simplistic. I think it is more that we were not yet at a stage where we had a framework to reject them. I mean, there was this game, that had come from somewhere. It is a little weird, but how do you get from there to saying that you do not want to play it? Or at least, perhaps I should not speak for the others, but that was how it was for me. It was all part of the same package as "don't say you are an atheist" and "don't say you like math" and so many other such things. Because then, suddenly you might find yourself with no friends... It took me a long time to shed that baggage (to the extent that I have shed it.)
I also found your story about "bowing to the prettiest" quite interesting. I do not remember that incident, or even that particular game. Was I there? Anyway, once again I wonder whether there is more at play than your interpretation. It is certainly very true that Indian girls are inculcated with the idea that fair is beautiful, and there was probably at least some of that going on. But keep in mind we had all known each other nearly since birth. We had our politics and our shifting alliances. As a newcomer, you were exotic. everyone would have wanted you on side. And everyone would have wanted to make you feel welcome. (Probably everyone would also have been told to make you feel welcome, but that is a separate matter.) In support of my theory, I'll mention that there was a Korean visitor another year who received similar adoration.
Anyway, thank you for the trip down memory lane. I look at the picture and realize that I don't really know what has happened to any of those girls (except one who died young in tragic circumstances). You are the only one from that group that I am even remotely "still in touch with", even if that only means exchanging birthday wishes every three-ish years.
Looking forward to your next newsletter, and honestly, your next book!
With love,
Varsha