Our Multi-Cultural Family

It's hard to believe that a little over a month ago, our family was in India. Each morning, we'd sit outside on the front porch overlooking blush colored two-story houses, with bananas in hand, waiting for a hungry cow to peek her head through the gate. One morning, a group of teenage boys bicycled by, pointing and staring at the mysterious foreigners. The maid stopped her sweeping, and with a hint of a smile on her lips, shouted something in Tamil to the boys. They snickered and sped off, craning their necks to get one last glimpse of us. 

"What did she say to those boys?" I asked my husband. 

"That if they didn't stop staring at the white people," he said smiling, "she'd go over and smack them each three times!" 

Instinctively I said, "Tell Akka our daughter isn't white. She's half-Indian."

With her freckled skin, chestnut hair and bright hazel eyes, she might look white to a stranger. But upon a closer look, you'll notice the jingle of the South Indian style anklets she wears. Or hear, "chokad dhela!" - one of the many phrases in Sourastra she knows. Her "Baba" only speaks his mother tongue to her, and stubbornly refuses to answer her in English. 

We devour Indian food a few nights a week using authentic recipes used by generations. Our home is decorated with touches from India: Lord Ganesh on our prayer table. A friendly Buddha at our front door. Hand carved elephants on our window. Traditional beads and bells at each doorway of our home. We want Little Butterfly to know her Indian roots as much as she understands what it means to be an American. 

My husband and I have become two lazy house cats admiring a pretty bird in a tree as we watch Little Butterfly easily transition from Indian experiences to American ones. There's no coaxing needed. Without batting an eyelash, this girl can join a prayer to the Hindu gods in one minute, and sing a Christmas carol the next. She willingly embraces it all, stirring that melting pot as if it's easiest job in the world.