"And then, MARRIAGE!"

Here are Kristen and I with some of the teachers from Manovikas at a fancy dinner. They all laughed at our sari's and then descended on us to fix what we had done wrong (Thank you youtube for getting us as far as we got...). Moumita is standing next to Kristen (girl in red) and Sukanya (my teacher) is in the middle with her daughter. 

It is 8:30 in the morning in Kolkata and I don’t know what to wear to Manovikas. I’m standing in front of my closet scouring the bundled up clothes trying to find an outfit that at least moderately goes together. This effort in dressing is one that I rarely even go through when I am at home or school and it is definitely one that I never thought I was going to have to go through in India (seeing as I only packed frumpy t-shirts, mom-pants, and long skirts that make me look like I just stepped out of Amish Pennsylvania). The reason that I am going through this frantic search, and why I do so on a daily basis, is because of the fashion show that my life has become for both the most loving and the most blunt women I have ever met: the Manovikas teachers. This compilation of women is one that encompasses different socioeconomic, age, and even religious groups but they have a few things in common and the first of those things is that they LOVE to comment on whatever Kristen or I wear to school.

Each day the three of us that work at Manovikas step out of the car to the sound of the security guard’s usual “Morning! Morning! Morning!”, walk up the small staircase and in the front door, and then part for the morning shift to our different classrooms (since Kristin and I have the same afternoon class we are together again later in the day). As soon as I step into and then nestle myself on the floor of my crowded classroom I can always expect a beaming smile from my teacher, Sukanya, followed by some sort of comment. The following are several that I have received over the past 6 weeks:

•              “Bangles on one wrist is not looking good. Two wrists is good. Very good”

•              “Your hair today is not looking good. Too much back. You need to have your   bangs down” Guess that headband was a no-no…

•              “Blue is a good color for you. Why do you not wear more? You wear too much white…”

•              “Your blouse is khub bhalo (very good). Where did you buy? Oh, America? I think made in India. Too much expensive in America”

•              “Your eyes look tired today” Guess I can’t get away with skipping putting on makeup for a day…

•              “Your hair is too long. Why so long?”

This barrage of comments is never meant in a hurtful way, it is just a cultural

difference and one that just usually makes me laugh (though I was bummed when I realized that I had to put on makeup everyday since I feel like it just melts off my face in the heat). The other cultural difference is the acceptability of asking how much something cost. After every compliment on a piece of clothing or jewelry there is the inevitable follow up of “How much?”. If we did good in buying the item (assuming it is from India) then we get a “Very good!”, if they think that we were slightly ripped off but not too bad they will say, “It’s ok…”, and if we really messed up then they will say, “They cheat!”. As our time in India has gone on and our haggling has gotten better we are usually proud of the prices we get for our items and the teachers like to laugh as Kristen mimics her extreme haggling skills, “200 rupees??? NO! The highest I can go is 30!”.

            After clothes, the teacher’s next favorite thing to talk about is finding me a boyfriend/husband. When they found out that I was single you would have thought that I said I had three heads, “But you are 19! And have such fair skin! How this possible?!”. When I try to explain that it is not unusual to be still single at 19 I am immediately shot down. The teachers will often sit together at our breaks and talk in Bangla and whenever I hear the word “boyfriend” or see eyes flicking to me I always know what is coming next: the timeline of my life. The teachers at this school have decided that since I am clearly slacking in the management of my own love life that they are going to have to step in and help me out. Below is the timeline that they have thus set out for my life

19 yr (find boyfriend)------------->22/23 yr (marriage)------------->25/26 yr (children)

Every time after the exclamation of “And then, marriage!” I try to explain the whole problem of finding a boyfriend/husband but I am just brushed off. Sukanya had a love marriage but the other two married teachers both had arranged marriages so they REALLY don’t understand my problem. These discussions are always filled with laughter and descriptions of what I want to find in a man.

One particularly hilarious/awkward conversation took place on the floor of my classroom which is right next to Kristen’s classroom and they are only divided by 5 ½ foot tall walls with no ceilings. Sukanya was yelling back and forth with Moumita (Kristen’s teacher in the morning) about what my boyfriend should be like.

Jessie: “And tell her I want him to be tall!”

Sukanya: (yelling in Bangla to Moumita)

Moumita: Silence then yells back something in Bangla

Sukanya: “Moumita asks why he has to me tall? There is nothing wrong with short men” then she whispered, “She says that her husband is the same height as he but he is actually shorter…”

It only took one look between us before Sukanya and I were basically rolling on the floor with laughter. It is moments like these that I am really going to miss about India. The teachers at Manovikas are some of the most genuine people that I have ever met and, even though they may not like my clothing sometimes, I am truly going to miss this gaggle of women who never fail to brighten my day.