I
Do you want to listen to Adele
again?
Oui! But
first, let me get this fucking GPS to talk in French. I cannot follow the
stupid American accent. Petit Conasse, can you please read the
address for me?
Absolutely, my little slut! It
is, 140 E. Walton Place, Magnificent
Mile, Chicago, IL 60611.
Voila! We
are ready to go to Chi-ca-go! I am so excited! Let’s listen to Someone Like You.
It’s like our little theme
song now. Two single women. Women or girls?
Girls. Let’s be girls.
Yeah. Two freshly single
girls, if I may add. Singing Someone Like
You loudly over Adele’s voice, going to Chicago from Lansing. We are so
happy, yet so sad.
I am French. All of us are
always sad.
In India they prepare you for
lifelong suffering, right from birth. It’s okay to be sad. When you’re sad
about the big things, you can get euphoric over the smallest of things. I
cannot imagine always being happy. It would be exhausting.
Yeah I agree. Sometimes I
force myself to think positive when I don’t want to, and then I feel very tired
from all the effort I put into it. It is easier to be sad when you want to be
sad. You can be happy later.
I know! We have our entire
lonely life ahead of us to be happy! Fuck this road. I wish I could add some
hills along this way.
I could cut paste some from South of France.
Or you could bring some Himalayas.
But the blues are a calling at
the end of this road! Maybe we will meet some cute guys!
Pff! I don’t care. I am not so
good when I flirt in English. I get tired from translating in my head. But we
can go to the French Markets and get some cheese. That’s as good as having sex
for me.
Cheese that smells like socks.
Will you please shut your
mouth about my cheese?
Okay sorry! We’ll get the
cheese and I will help you flirt. But you don’t need to flirt. You’re so
pretty.
Ah Non! My,
what do you call it, the part between your knees and your feet?
Ankles?
No. Between that and the
knees?
Calves?
Yes! My calves are fat.
No they are not. And you don’t
pronounce the ‘L’ in calves. It’s Ka-aa-v-s.
I don’t give a tiny rat’s ass.
Oh! You picked that up nice! I
will teach you more.
I teach you French, you teach
me English. I tell you about French mustard and baguette. You tell me about roti and paneer. We make an awesome couple.
Yeah! You know, our trips
remind me of On the Road by Kerouac. Sur La Route. Except, he doesn’t whine about how monotonous the
Midwest roads can get. He writes passionately about the corn fields and the
clear starry skies instead.
How about the sunsets in the
Midwest? Someone should write about it. Every evening the Sun gives a big hug to
the corn fields. It is as if the sky is trying to make up for the boring earth.
Sometimes, I just want to go right in the middle of a corn field and watch the
sky turn pink, sitting next to a cow.
You are so poetic! But there’s
something good in every place. Today, we are bitter and lost. But in a few
years, no matter where we are, this place is going to make us nostalgic. You,
Ms. I-am-so-French, are going to miss The United States.
Non!
Never! I will miss these times, but I will never miss this country.
You cannot separate time and
place when your head is in the cloud of memories. You will miss everything.
Even the big fat sugary muffin from the corner coffee shop. Our minds have the
ability to edit memories. They are filtered to keep the happiest.
In a way you are right. I didn’t
like the time when I was in Toulouse. But now I miss it. Fabrice was never
really in love with me but I was in love. And when you are in love, you remember
those days with happiness.
Are you out of love now?
I don’t know. But I moved
seven thousand kilometres to get over it. So at least I am far away. And you
know, the idea that only one man is made for you is kind of crap. I think
there’s only one rever, what do you
call it in English, the story you see in your sleep and then sometimes you make
one up, when you’re bored and awake?
A dream? Yes. It is a dream. A reverie.
So you are just looking for
someone to make that dream with. My dream is to live on a farm. I didn’t really
want to get a PhD. I kind of kept studying and I ended up here. I would like to
make cheese on my farm as a business. Live there with my three kids and a husband.
Cheese, which is organic and
dairy free!
Oh come on! Don’t make fun of
my Frenchness. For a long time, I was sure that it was going to come true. Now,
not so much.
You are absolutely right about
the dream. But the trouble is, we are trying to cast actors who are not willing
to be a part of our movie. Our dreams and their dreams don’t match. And in our
times, dreams are the only flimsy strings, which tie us together. What do we
believe in, apart from our dreams? Our dreams even come with a plan B.
We believe in our phones. And
our music. On that note, could you play something nice?
Like Edith Piaf?
Non!
Zazie! Je Suis Un Homme!
What do we believe in? Do we
believe in God? No one gets terrified into being good any more. We are good
because we want to be good. No one is forced to get married because they got
someone pregnant. People get married because they share the same dream. And
that’s good. That is how it should happen.
In India people get married
all the time. How do they do it? Indian men are not as much afraid of marriage
as the French.
Ha! That’s because they aren’t
really free.
What do you mean?
You know, the Indian middle
class kids, the ones you meet here in the US, are raised on an imaginary
conveyor belt. They are raised to excel at everything that brings status.
Education, employment, marriage, family! There’s no breathing space. You can’t
be a chef if that’s what you are passionate about. You have to be an engineer.
That’s considered good. They are produced, quality controlled and packaged
before they are sent off to the US.
But there’s structure. Indians
do certain things at certain times. When I was growing up, I used to see my
father come home tired from the farm, my mother cooking our meals, and we used
to help out in the kitchen. I don’t see that no more.
Would you prefer to cook meals
for your family instead of what you are doing right now? And our life has a
different structure. We take a two hour swim in the morning, eat fancy food
grains, and do Yoga to calm the fuck down after six cups of coffee in a day.
That’s also structure.
Non! I
don’t mean it like that. I would love to have some of that family structure. At
least the basic structure. I don’t mind if I come home from work and my husband
cooks meals. I don’t even mind if it isn’t my husband but a boyfriend. As long
as we have children and we live happily.
But this is an endless
pursuit. Finding someone who shares our dream, then liking him enough to build
a dream with him, sustaining that dream while keeping it together. Sometimes I
feel like having a baby without a man.
Me too. That would not be
ideal but it will be more peaceful than trying to find a man who lives in the same
city as me, gets good money, is not a psycho and wants children.
You make it sound so dramatic.
With a sense of impending doom.
What is doom?
It is the feeling you’ll
experience if Nicholas Sarkozy gets elected again.
Ah
putain!
II
So, what do you want to listen
to next?
I don’t know. Something that
makes me calm. Yoga music?
Alright Madame! Anoushka
Shankar coming up for you. Just, for, you!
How did you decide that you’re
going back to India so quickly? At first I thought you did it just to feel
secure after your break up. I was kind of sure you will change your mind.
I love this life. But I don’t
want to live this life forever. I don’t want to live here and also try to live
in a parallel Indian Universe. The same routine: meeting Indian friends on the
weekends, setting up a perfect American home with a small corner for Indian
Gods. Going to the Indian store to buy dead eggplants and shredded coconuts. Talking
to your kids in your language only to get a reply in English. I don’t want to
be an Indian in the United States. I want to be a westernized, cultureless
idiot in India.
Is it also because you are an
only child? And you feel it is your duty to go back and be close to your
parents?
Yes. That’s a big part of my
decision. I don’t feel obligated. But I feel the loneliness in my parents’
voice when they talk to me. If I ever have a family, I would love my kids to be
close to their grandparents. We do a much better job of inspiring kids as a
grandparent than a parent. And I am sick of standing in front of arrogant
American visa officers. I don’t want to depend on the American government
emotionally. For them, I am just a number.
But what if you don’t find a
man when you go back to India?
It is not about finding a man
and settling down as much as it is about courage. For years, I have evaded the
nosy questions about my apparently directionless life. I have tried everything but I was never able
to look them in the eye and say, “I don’t know when I am getting married. Fuck
off”. I want to do that now.
That’s true. If someone
overhears this conversation, they might feel we are making a big deal out of
all this, but it does hurt. Even though I don’t have much pressure from family
to get married, when I see my cousin with her two kids, I feel pain sometimes.
It is not a good feeling but it happens to me. And then I feel bad.
It’s okay to feel envy. It gets
better if you accept it. Makes it easier to move on. Maybe, your cousin also
feels the same about her smart, world travelled cousin.
I know. There’s always the
second side. We feel sad because we want everything. This and that too. But
when I am old and lonely, my travel will not make me feel better. If I have
grandkids, I will have something to look forward to.
What if you die today?
Pff! Now you’re being a big
drama bitch.
No. It could happen. You never
know! What should I play next?
I know what I want to listen
to. That Indian song with French rap.
Delhi 6? Awesome! Rahman
coming up!
Sometimes I just want to get a
big glass of red wine, sit in the bath and listen to music with no thought.
And sometimes I want to
analyse what all this angst is about. You feel it. I feel it. It is about
something that hasn’t yet happened. Maybe it won’t happen at all.
But many of my friends are
married or living with their partners. They post photos of their family online
and invite me for baby showers. My uncertain future is their present already.
Yeah. Those pictures really
screw us up. It used to be nice when pregnancy news was discreet. Now it turns
into a fucking biology lesson. But someone might be saying the same thing about
our photos. You know when we went snowboarding, or our pictures from Vegas.
They must be calling us fucking show offs.
Vegas was a really good time connasse. You almost killed me by making
me laugh! That’s what I really like about you. You can really talk. Something I
wish I could do. Maybe we could be roommates forever.
Yeah and maybe we could also
do a sitcom! I think this is a pause in our playlist. This time in the United
States. We are going to come back to this pause again and again. We are going
to remember it fondly all the time.
Do you want to get a coffee
and a bagel?
Yes! And shmear it with cream
cheese!
III
So? What next?
I don’t know. I am kind of
lost now.
No. I mean what you want to
listen to.
You decide.
Okay. We will play some
Louisiana. Kermit Ruffins! I still can’t get over Nawlins. If I really had to
choose a city to spend the rest of my life in, I would choose New Orleans. I
wish I could just set up an office there.
Ha! And do what?
That’s the problem. I have to
invent or discover something I could do in New Orleans. Can you imagine how
great it would be to walk those roads every, single, day? The food? The beer
and the music?
Pff! No! I don’t like New
Orleans. It is too loud for me. I like Chicago.
That’s where we’re headed. So
I am sure it will cheer you up.
I am not sad. I am just
French.
But look at it this way. We
are so free. We can do anything in this world.
I don’t think freedom is
really helping me. You want dark chocolate. You go into the grocery and there
are seventeen kinds of dark chocolates. There’s too much choice. If I go back
to Europe, which country do I go to? If I stay here, where do you I move next?
I meet men all the time. But I have this awesome ability to always choose the
bad ones.
First world problems.
Eh come on! Don’t be like that
with me. I will make you get out of the car. Then you will have to walk to
Chicago like people in India do.
Hey! We have cars in India,
bitch! Both of us are victims of the opposite kinds of syndromes. I love being
directionless. When I was a little girl my mom always made me drink milk. I
didn’t get any tea. And I used to imagine my life as an adult. In that
daydream, I had twenty cups of tea in a day. That’s why I want more choice.
It is such a pain in the ass
to choose. So these days, everybody is a kid. We have toys we put around
ourselves. Phones, video games, video chat, online movies and shows,
headphones. And we think we are cool. We think we have everything.
Yes Grandma.
No! Seriously! We are thirty!
Our mothers were done having babies at our age. My mother already had three!
And I don’t even have a stable boyfriend.
But maybe we’ll produce kids
of better quality. So one would be enough! When you meet the right guy, you
could even have a baby in a year.
When?
Why do we hanker for this
milestone? Why is it so important? Is it because everybody does it at some
point or is it because we really want to do it? What if we just decide to get
over it? We settle down in life. We choose a permanent place to be, we buy a
house, hell we even have babies but without a man. Why is it so hard to
imagine?
But nobody does it that way
unless they are really late at everything.
Elephants do it. Elephants are
raised by females. The females stick together and look after all the kids.
Maybe be we could follow elephants.
You’re crazy. But it would be
great to have kids and live with each other. I will name mine Mirabelle. What
would you name yours?
If it is a boy, I will call
him Kabir. And if it is a girl, Ananya.
Wow! Such beautiful names!
Actually Mirabelle is the name of our cat back in France.
You just picked your cat’s
name for your child? You’re a monster!
Petit Conasse! In
all my fear and confusion, I am just so glad I am with Someone Like You.
Me too!
