So how Indian are you?

If someone had asked this question of me ten or twelve years ago, the answer would have been a succinct, "Not very."

This is a way that many Indian mothers, of my mother's generation anyway, describe their daughters. For instance, my mom, speaking of her friend's daughter, "Oh, Rani? She's very Indian. She wears saris all the time when she is dressed up and she speaks perfect Bengali when I call."

I, on the other hand, wore a sari exactly once while posing for a photograph at age 9 in India. I never donned one again until I was well into my 30's. I wore a salwar kameez for the first time in my 30's as well. Despite having spoken perfect Bengali when I was a toddler and having perfect comprehension of spoken Bengali, I can barely utter anything beyond the pleasantries of saying hello and how are you. I sound like a tourist when I attempt to speak Bengali. I struggle to find the words, translate in my head as I grasp for the correct verb tense. Subject verb agreement you ask? I haven't gotten that far yet. My Hindi? Well, it is pretty much non-existent. The last time I attempted to say something in Hindi, I was teased mercilessly. I didn't even realize I was being mocked until the third time I attempted to say what I needed. Talk about a blonde moment. And religion? I couldn't tell you a thing about Hinduism. Wait, that's not entirely true. I had to read Siddhartha for a philosophy class in college, but that's it.

One must ask whether my parents are Indian. (They are.) Others might wonder if I even had parents. (I do.) So why was I so not Indian? It is simply because I am stubborn and my parents recognized early on that many battles were just not worth fighting with me. Smart parents, wise parents, parents who learned early on that confrontation with headstrong daughter was an exercise in frustration for everyone....

I was quite defiant as a teenager. While there were some good things that came out of that, such as self-confidence and self-esteem, I now realize that the downside of my defiance was that I missed out on growing up Indian. I was more interested in being a typical American teenager than I was in being Indian. I knew more about Benetton sweaters and Guess jeans than bindis or Ganesh. I had always understood spoken Bengali, but refused to speak it. I ate some Indian food, but I had so many food issues that my parents didn't waste much time or energy on that. I loathed going to the temple during the festivals even though my parents made every effort to encourage friendships among the other girls my age. Wearing a sari or a salwar kameez was not even up for discussion. I wore uniforms to school so there was no way I was going to be forced to wear an outfit that I didn't like, Indian or Western. I was quite a pain in the neck. Looking back, it's a minor miracle that my parents kept me around at all.

My parents hoped that I would have changed my outlook during college. I met a several Indian students, even a Bengali here and there. One young Bengali student whose path crossed mine had notions of marriage on his mind. He was smart, from a good family, a good student, high earning potential, etc. He was all of the things that any Indian parent would want in a prospective son-in-law. Unfortunately, he had me mistaken for someone who was actually Indian. If I had considered embracing Indian culture at that time, the fact that my parents liked him and considered him a good candidate for marriage definitely made me bolt at full speed in the opposite direction.

Fate had other plans for me and marriage as I ended up marrying someone who was (gasp!) American. My husband is second generation Italian-American and had some rather strange, but well-entrenched opinions about Indian people. That was fine because my mom had some opinons of her own with the fact that he was Italian. Think of The Godfather movies and you can imagine what was going through her mind. Nevertheless, I wasn't very Indian, and he was not stereotypically Italian, so it wasn't an issue.

Fast forward several years and two children later, and even as India's meteoric rise as an economic power was as frequently in the news as Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky, I still shied away from all things Indian. I was always proud to see a story on the news about India or to read an article in the newspaper or a magazine, but I still wasn't ready to embrace my Indianness.

When I started working for a friend who owned an event planning business which was primarily planning and coordinating Indian weddings, it became clear just how Indian I wasn't. She needed help and it sounded like fun, so I wore a sari for the first time and pretended to be Indian. It was then that I realized how completely out of touch I was with my own culture. It was even a bit embarrassing.

One would think that my epiphany would have happened then, but it didn't. It was when I started to teach my son how to count in Bengali. We got to ten and then he asked, "Mommy, what's eleven?" and I didn't know. It was then that I realized that I knew nothing about being Indian. How could I possibly teach my children how to be Indian when I was Indian in name and appearance only? That was when I had my moment of clarity. I realized that I am the primary connection that they have to their heritage. Fortunately, and god willing, my mother is still alive and well, but she is several hours away. Good relationships with grandparents or relatives from an older generation are a wonderful way for children to appreciate and learn cultural traditions and values, but parents still leave the most significant impression on children, for better or worse.

As a result I have gone through somewhat of a personal renaissance in the past few years. I have embraced my heritage wholeheartedly, learning about the rich and interesting culture that is my heritage truly for the first time. Through my job I have had the opportunity to really experience Indian culture from a new perspective. I am learning about the diversity of the culture, food, and religions of India all the time. I want my children to be as Indian as they can, so the best way to do that is for me to be as Indian as I can. I have to set a good example, be a role model, all of that parental responsibility stuff.

I don't really cook, but I am learning to make some Indian food. We are very spoiled in that we live near some superb Indian restaurants. The takeout menu is in my purse at all times. The number is programmed into my contact list on my cell phone. I have grown to appreciate the Hindi music that streams into our living room on cable. I'm not much of a fan of the old stuff, but I love bhangra, hip hop, and popular music. My kids have an appreciation for it too and walk around the house humming Hindi songs or singing the Hindi lyrics as easily as they do the American songs they hear on the radio. I read the Bollywood gossip pages from time to time to keep up with the latest news on Bipasha Basu, Aishwarya Rai, Abhishek Bachnan, and Shah Rukh Khan, among others. I still can't tie a sari myself, but I can wear one with ease and I am up on Indian haute couture. It's a whole new world of clothing, shoes, jewelry, and accessories. What's not to like? FYI, if anyone wants to get me a really nice gift, I would LOVE a Satya Paul sari or an casual or western outfit from Maria B. It would be a really nice gift...

Now when someone asks how Indian I am, my answer is, with a pause, "Well, a bit more than I used to be." I still sound like a tourist when I speak Bengali, but now I can count to twenty.