growing up, i used to always wonder if i’d marry an indian (and if so, would he be an indian from my state (kerala) or another state, or north india?) or someone from another ethnicity. i think the very fact that i could ask that question (and be so open to the endless possibilities) shows how wonderfully our world is evolving. growing up as an expat child in an international school, and then moving to multicultural toronto, definitely blurred the racial dividing lines for me.
as life would have it, I got an indian 🙂 his dad is from my state in india, his mom from the neighbouring state. for both my husband and i, our love for our ethnic food, was one of the first few variables that peaked our interest in each other (no joke). and it has reappeared many times in our relationship. whilst on our two week honeymoon in italy, halfway through, in rome, no less, we both looked at each other and said ‘so…wanna find a chinese or japanese restaurant?’ yes, we had reached our limit of days-we-can-live-without-rice. together. no explanation needed.
a very similar thing happened this week. husband had a weekday off, so we slept in. when i finally sat up in bed, i announced that i was really craving some dosa and sambar. without needing to ask, i knew, he understood. for most south indians, the words dosa, sambar, idli, chutney, will bring back intense childhood memories, of weekend-breakfasts, holiday breakfasts, road trips, and comfort. for me, those words hit so strong i instantly am able to smell and taste the food (and yes, maybe i start salivating).
yes indeed, this is one of the perks i get for marrying an indian 🙂
…and it was heavenly…