Products of Our Environments

When I went to pick up the brat from school on Friday, one of the parents at the pickup line greeted me with a loud “Whoa! What’s with the really bling shirt you’re wearing Maggi?” Ok, I admit, my garb was an aberration from my usual get-up, but at three dollars a pop I had not thought much about the color of the tee [when I picked up three for nine bucks at Walgreen’s]. Later, when my friend came to help me with some sewing, she exclaimed that “I wouldn’t have worn that ‘banian’ [Indian term for cotton knitwear] if I were you.”

“Does it look really bad?” I asked MOH when he walked in at tea-time. “Dunno what you’re whining about; it looks just fine to me,” responded my other half. “It must be bright if MOH thinks it was fine,” I mused as I perused myself critically in the mirror. This has always been a bone of contention between us, ever since we got married. I like to walk around disguised like a monsoon cloud [clad in black and gray] while MOH prefers his wife to be decked up in the colors of Holi. I’ve always wondered how he came about his strange [to me] preference. The answer suddenly dawned on me when I was visiting India last Xmas. I observed that his mom, my m-i-l, loves dressing up in bright bold saris!

This has led me to believe that although genes do play an important role in our physical and mental make-up, our emotional selves are based largely on our childhood environments. What we see and experience in our formative years shapes our preferences as adults.

My mom is tall, thin and fair. So, I’ve always believed that in order to be “beautiful,” a gal has to be tall, thin and fair – attributes that I sorely lack. On the other hand, my m-i-l is not very tall, of medium build and has dusky skin. Not surprising, then, that according to MOH “A true Indian beauty is not very tall, not very thin and not very fair.” He finds my typical South Indian looks “nice.” Thank god for small mercies.

Similarly, I have since realized that my mom does not own a single red, green or bright yellow sari. No wonder I think “sober” colors are “decent.” It also suddenly dawned on me that all my crushes during my teenage years were guys who showed signs of premature balding. My dad is quite bald and has been like that since I can remember. “I’m losing so much hair…soon, I’ll be really bald,” moans MOH many a times. “So what? All intelligent men are bald,” I argue back. I'm sure this is merely his way of checking to see if I still love him.

The brat is living proof of the validity of my theory about the effects of the environment. “I don’t know why everyone likes Aishwarya Rai,” she exclaimed after watching Ash baby gyrate to the tune of Amitabh's kajra re. “She's not really all that beautiful; she does not have pimples like you do ma.” What can I say? I stand vindicated.