Coming To India Preface Jyoti Ananya Ramdharry sat in her small college dorm room, staring at the acceptance letter from a university in the United States. She had dreamed of this opportunity for years, but now it felt like her only escape. Her parents had been increasingly insistent about arranging a marriage for her, a tradition she respected but didn't want for herself. The thought of marrying a man she didn't know, giving up her dreams and independence, was too much to bear. She knew what she had to do. Early the next morning, Jyoti quietly packed her belongings and left her dorm room without a word. She headed to the local train station, her heart pounding. At the ticket counter, she took a deep breath and spoke firmly. "I'd like to book a ticket to the United States under the name Ananya Gupta." The attendant glanced at her, then processed the request. Jyoti watched as her new ticket was printed. Ananya Gupta. A new name for a new beginning. The guilt of leaving without telling her parents gnawed at her, but she knew they wouldn't understand. This was her only chance to live her own life. Ananya Gupta stepped off the plane and into the bustling terminal of the American airport. The cacophony of different languages, the diverse faces, and the sheer size of everything overwhelmed her senses. She clutched her bag tightly, feeling a mix of fear and exhilaration. The campus was beautiful, with sprawling green lawns and majestic buildings. Ananya marveled at the freedom she felt, the sense of endless possibilities. Her new identity was a symbol of her fresh start. She introduced herself to everyone as Ananya Gupta, relishing the simplicity and anonymity it provided. Months passed, and Ananya thrived in her new environment. She excelled in her classes, formed close friendships, started a cultural club to share her heritage with others, and established a relationship with a white man, Jerome (Jerry) Webb, with a kind heart that she fell in love with.. The fear of an arranged marriage faded, replaced by the confidence of knowing she had taken control of her own destiny. Chapter 1. "Mother, what are you doing here?" Jyoti asked in surprise. Mrs. Ramdharry, Jyoti's mother had been sitting in her living room when Jyoti returned from her job. "You're my daughter. Did you think we would ever stop looking for you?" "But how did you find me?" "That doesn't matter, Jyoti. I'm here to bring you back home." "I'm not going back. I've made a life here. My name is Ananya Gupta now." "I know, but you'll always be Jyoti to me. You're coming home with me. Your father is waiting. We will go back home and you can return to the..." "Life of a traditional Indian woman?" Jyoti continued. "I don't want that life. I don't know if I ever did. I belong here." "But your father forbids it." Jyoti had been promised to Arjun. The family's honor was at stake if she didn't follow her parent's wishes. Jyoti's mother and father also wanted her at home in India and living the traditional life that the Ramdharrys have lived for generations. Jyoti explained her feelings to her mother and what she felt she must do. She told her of her education, her new friends, the roots she had put down in America, and finally the boy she fell in love with. She implored her mother to see the life she is leading from her point of view. Chapter 2. Jerry adjusted his tie nervously as he entered the charming little restaurant where he was to meet 'Mrs. Gupta', the mother of his girlfriend, Ananya Gupta. The setting was perfect for a cordial lunch, with its cozy ambiance, soft lighting, and the faint aroma of freshly baked bread lingering in the air. He spotted Mrs. Ramdharry seated at a corner table, elegantly dressed in a traditional sari, her posture exuding grace and confidence. As Jerry approached, Mrs. Ramdharry stood up and greeted him with a polite smile. "Jerry, it's nice to finally meet you," she said, extending her hand. She looked up and down at Jerry's short stature. She realized that Jerry might be shorter than her daughter. Jyoti's mother knew her husband wouldn't understand. If she couldn't convince Jyoti to return with her, Jyoti would be drugged, kidnapped, and brought back to India where she would spend time at an ashram until she (with the help of Guruji) would be reacquainted with her roots. The foolishness of going to America would be shown to her and she would take her place as a traditional Indian woman as she was meant to be. Mrs. Ramdharry loved her daughter. She didn't want to see her hurt, but this man she didn't love. Someone would have to be brought back to India to take Jyoti's place. "The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Gupta," Jerry replied, shaking her hand warmly. "Thank you for agreeing to meet me."
They both sat down, and the waiter promptly brought menus and water. The initial conversation was pleasant, filled with polite inquiries about each other's lives. Mrs. Ramdharry asked about Jerry's family, his job, and his interests. Jerry, in turn, complimented her on the beautiful sari she was wearing and shared how much he admired Indian culture. As they ordered their meals, the conversation turned to Jyoti. Jerry spoke fondly of her, recounting their shared experiences and the qualities he loved about her. Mrs. Ramdharry listened attentively, occasionally nodding in agreement. "Ananya is a wonderful person," Jerry said, his eyes lighting up as he spoke about his girlfriend. "She brings so much joy into my life, and I feel incredibly lucky to have her." Mrs. Ramdharry smiled politely but there was a hint of something in her eyes that Jerry couldn't quite place. As their meals arrived, she took a deep breath and put down her fork. "Jerry, I'm glad to hear that you care so much about Ananya," she began, her tone shifting slightly. "However, there are some things we need to discuss." Jerry's heart sank a little, sensing the impending shift in the conversation. "Of course, Mrs. Gupta. What is it?" Mrs. Ramdharry took a moment before continuing. "Ananya is very dear to me, and as her mother, I have certain expectations and hopes for her future. I need to be honest with you---I don't think that you and Ananya are a suitable match." Jerry was taken aback, struggling to maintain his composure. "I respect your opinion, Mrs. Gupta, but may I ask why you feel that way?" Mrs. Ramdharry sighed, her expression softening slightly. "It's not about you personally, Jerry. You seem like a good man. But our family has certain traditions and expectations, and I don't believe you can fully understand or embrace them. Ananya comes from a long line of traditions and values that are very important to us." Jerry felt a lump forming in his throat. "Mrs. Gupta, I truly love Ananya, and I'm willing to learn and respect your traditions. I want to be with her, and I'm ready to do whatever it takes to prove that." Mrs. Ramdharry shook her head gently. "It's not that simple, Jerry. These are deep-rooted values and cultural differences that cannot be bridged so easily. I appreciate your sincerity, but I must ask you to respect my decision. I cannot allow you to see Ananya anymore. If you had the opportunity to make her happy, would you do anything for her?" "Yes!" "Anything at all?" "I said YES!" "You can't marry her, but you can help her in another way, although you will never see her again." The words hit Jerry like a ton of bricks. He sat there, dazed and confused. He wanted to argue, to plead his case further, but he could see the resolute determination in Mrs. Ramdharry's eyes. He couldn't bring himself to protest any further. "How can I help her," Jerry finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. Mrs. Ramdharry nodded, her expression softening. "I'm sorry, Jerry. I truly am. But I must do what I believe is best for my daughter. I'll do what I can for you. I can help you in ways you cannot comprehend." "What?" What Mrs. Ramdharry said didn't make sense to Jerry. He was stunned. He couldn't believe what had happened. He thought that his encounter with Mrs. Ramdharry was supposed to be a formality. Jerry hadn't any idea why she would want to see him alone without her daughter. Now he knew. She never had any intention of allowing the relationship to continue. Jerry wanted to get up and leave, but he found his body heavy. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate. All he could do was nod in agreement with whatever Mrs. Ramdharry told him. "Help me?" Jerry didn't know if what he said was a question or a request. It was hard to think straight. Soon he lost all awareness of his surroundings. Chapter 3. Jerry spent the next twenty hours on a plane from America to Mumbai. During that entire time, he was kept in a semi-conscious state and repeatedly listened to a recording, "My name is Jyoti Ramdharry. I am from Bhiwandi, India. I feel lost and unfulfilled in America. I left India because I thought I was a man. I am not. I want to return home to India. I want to reconnect with my Indian heritage. I want to reconnect with my femininity. I want to embrace the life of a traditional Indian." Jyoti stepped off the plane, the humid air of Mumbai enveloping him like a warm embrace. He felt like it had been years since he had left India for the bustling streets of America, where he had built a successful life at college. Although, this was the first time in his life that he had ever been in India. Despite his achievements, he believed there had always been a lingering sense of something missing, a void that no amount of professional success could fill. He remembered his family had long since urged him to reconnect with his roots, to remember the traditions and values that had shaped his childhood. It was this longing for connection that had brought him back, seeking guidance from a renowned guru known for helping people find their true path. Jyoti arrived at the ashram, nestled in the serene countryside away from the chaos of the city. The ashram was a peaceful haven, surrounded by lush greenery and the soothing sounds of nature. He was greeted by the guru's disciples, who led him to a simple yet comfortable room. Jyoti was confused, he remembered his life in the United States, a life he remembered being fully immersed in, a life he wanted to return to, but he couldn't bring himself to leave this place. The next morning, Jyoti met Guruji, a wise and gentle soul with eyes that seemed to hold the wisdom of the ages. He welcomed him with a serene smile, his presence immediately calming his restless mind. "Welcome, Jyoti," he said in a soft, soothing voice. "What brings you here, child?" Jyoti took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "Guruji, I have spent many years living a life that felt disconnected from my roots. I have achieved much, but I feel lost and unfulfilled. I want to embrace the life of a traditional Indian and reconnect with my heritage." Guruji nodded understandingly. "You have taken the first step by seeking guidance. The path you seek is not easy, but it is rewarding. Let us begin this journey together." I want you to feel at home here. Wearing Western apparel like jeans and T-shirts can prevent you from truly fitting in. I know many things, but there is one area where even I require assistance." Jyoti easily sensed where Guruji was heading both figuratively and literally. They walked into a room where a woman was waiting for them.. "This is Mahika, she knows more about fashion than I know about spiritual matters," Guruji smiled. "No one knows more than you," Mahika returned the compliment. "I'll leave you two to get acquainted." Mahika was the epitome of grace, dressed in a beautiful green sari adorned with intricate gold embroidery. Her bangles jingled softly as she embraced Jyoti. "I've forgotten how to dress like a proper Indian woman. It's almost like I never knew." Mahika's smile widened. "Don't worry. We'll have you looking like a queen in no time. Let me show you my private dressing room. I'm willing to share a few things." Mahika led Jyoti to a room filled with traditional Indian apparel. There were thousands of articles of clothing. "All residents of the ashram are allowed to wear any garment they like. These clothes are donated by our many supporters. As long as you are here you can wear anything you like." The room was a riot of colors, with rows of vibrant saris, lehengas, and anarkalis. Jyoti felt overwhelmed as he followed Mahika through the aisles. The rich fabrics, the delicate embroideries, and the shimmering sequins all seemed to call out to him. Mahika started by picking out a few saris. "First, let's choose a sari that suits your style." "I don't know what my style is." "Guruji isn't the only guru here. They don't call me the fashion guru for nothing." "Who calls you that?" "I do," Mahika smiled. "We'll figure it out together. This red one with gold borders will look stunning on you." Jyoti hesitated, looking at the intricate fabric. "I don't even remember how to drape a sari." Mahika smiled reassuringly. "That's what I'm here for. Come, let's start with the basics." They spread the sari on a table. Mahika showed Jyoti the different parts of the sari---the pallu, the pleats, and the border. Jyoti watched intently, trying to memorize each step. Jyoti and Mahika had stripped down until they were only wearing white petticoats. "First, you tuck the end of the sari into your petticoat," Mahika explained, demonstrating the action. "Make sure it's secure. Then, you start making pleats." Jyoti attempted to make the pleats, his fingers fumbling with the fabric. Mahika patiently guided him, showing her how to fold the pleats evenly and tuck them in. "Now, drape the pallu over your shoulder," Mahika said, adjusting the fabric on Jyoti's shoulder. "See, you're getting it!" Jyoti looked at himself in the mirror, feeling a sense of pride. He wasn't perfect, but with Mahika's help, he was starting to get the hang of it. Next, they moved on to accessories. Mahika opened a jewelry box filled with sparkling bangles, necklaces, and earrings. She selected a pair of gold jhumkas and held them up to Jyoti's ears. "These will go perfectly with the sari," Mahika explained. "And don't forget the bangles. They add a lovely touch to any outfit." Jyoti admired the jewelry, feeling a deep connection to his new heritage. As Mahika helped him put on the bangles and earrings, Jyoti felt a transformation taking place. He was embracing his culture in a way he felt he hadn't for years. A culture that Jerry was never part of. The final touch was the bindi. Mahika placed a small, red bindi on Jyoti's forehead, completing the look. Jyoti gazed at his reflection, hardly recognizing the person staring back at him. He looked elegant, poised, and very much a part of the vibrant culture. "You look beautiful, Jyoti," Mahika told him, her voice filled with pride. "This is who you are. Never forget your roots, no matter where you go." Jyoti felt Mahika words ringing through his soul. It was forcing out any lingering doubts. Jyoti hugged Mahika, tears of gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you, Mahika. I feel like I've found a part of myself that I'd lost." Mahika smiled. "Welcome home, Jyoti. Now that you have the apparel down, I think I should help you with cosmetics. Let's start with a base that'll darken your skin.." Jyoti never wore Western attire again. He embraced wearing traditional Indian attire, finding appreciation for the vibrant colors and intricate designs of saris and salwar kameez. The clothing made him feel more connected to his heritage and brought a sense of grace and dignity to his daily life. Over the following weeks, Jyoti immersed himself in the teachings and practices of the ashram. He woke up early each morning to dress in traditional Indian apparel, before participating in yoga and meditation sessions, learning to quiet his mind and banish any lingering thoughts of America and American values. He believed he was connecting with his true inner self, that of a traditional Indian woman. Guruji taught him about the importance of mindfulness and living in harmony with nature. He reminded him of his true place in society and Indian society's place in him. He learned to cook traditional Indian meals, using fresh ingredients from the ashram's garden. The simple act of preparing food became a form of meditation, grounding him in the present moment. He also took part in the daily rituals and prayers, finding solace in the rhythms of the traditional practices. One of the most profound lessons came from Guruji's teachings on community and relationships. He learned the value of selflessness and service, participating in the ashram's outreach programs to help the local villagers. These experiences humbled him and brought a deep sense of fulfillment that he had never felt in his college life. Three months passed, Jyoti felt a profound transformation taking place within him. All sense of ever being from the West or of any masculinity faded to nothingness. All that was left was a simple traditional woman who had mistakenly departed from her traditional home to go to the West and returned appreciating her former life and traditions. She even lost the ability to understand any but the most basic English words. Besides the psychological transformation, Jyoti experienced physical changes due to the humble diet and surreptitious application of feminine hormones placed in his food and personal products. His fat redistributed itself through his body and his muscle mass diminished as her weight lessened. Yoga made him more flexible. Jyoti went to sleep on an ordinary evening and was brought to a hospital. She stayed three days unconscious while they removed her genitals and made her body resemble that of a woman's. Most of her body hair was removed, her skin was slightly darkened and her facial features were slightly altered to give her the look of a woman from India. Jyoti returned to consciousness. She looked around, she wasn't at the ashram. She was in a hospital. She didn't know how she got here. "You're awake," a nurse observed. "I'll get the doctor." "W-W-What happened?" Jyoti asked. "You're alright now. I think the doctor should tell you." "Please tell me." "You had a miscarriage." "A miscarriage? I didn't know I was pregnant." Jyoti was shocked by the news. "It's alright, Dear. You'll be fine. But I should let the doctor explain what happened." The nurse exited the hospital room. Jyoti tried to think how this could have happened. She certainly didn't have any relationships after arriving in India. But before, when she was in America, she was in a relationship. It was hard to remember who with, it all seemed like so long ago, although it was only three months. Everything that happened in America felt fuzzy to her. It was a combination of Guruji's teachings and her actively trying to forget the worst decision in her life. Jyoti surmised that she must have gotten pregnant in America, but didn't know it. The doctor walked into the room. He checked Jyoti's chart. "You are doing well. It was touch and go for a while. But you're over the hump. We plan on releasing you tomorrow. You can go back to the ashram. "I'm glad." "There is one problem though." "A problem? What's that?" "I'm sorry to say, you'll never be able to have another child again. We had to do a hysterectomy." Jyoti reached down to touch her bandaged abdomen. It felt tender to the touch. She almost cried at the thought that she would never be a mother.. "I'm sorry but it couldn't be helped." During her stay in the hospital, Jyoti was visited by the people she truly loved: her mom, dad, Guruji, and even Mahika. They all stayed with her and sympathized with her loss. Jyoti never realized how much she wanted a baby until she discovered she couldn't have one. She blamed her time in America for her misfortune. Back in the ashram, Guruji and Mahika were invaluable to her. She needed special guidance from her guru and her best friend to get over what she had lost. She'll never be a mother. She didn't take her faith for granted anymore, it was the rock that sustained her. She believed that she had come to India seeking to embrace a traditional lifestyle, but she had gained so much more. She had found, with the help of everyone at the ashram, a sense of peace and purpose, a connection to her heritage, and a deep appreciation for the simple joys of life. One evening, Jyoti was summoned to the ashram's lotus pond. There she saw Guruji sitting with a handsome young man, Arjun. She didn't dare approach Guruji until he was alone. Arjun pointed at Jyoti, said something that Jyoti couldn't hear, and then quickly walked away. Jyoti sat next to Guruji to express her gratitude. "Guruji, I feel like a new person. I have found a sense of belonging and purpose that I never knew was possible. Thank you for guiding me." Guruji smiled, his eyes twinkling with warmth. "Jyoti, the journey you have undertaken is one of great courage and wisdom. You have rediscovered the beauty of your roots and embraced the essence of who you should be. Remember, the true essence of tradition lies not just in the rituals, but in the values and love that you carry in your heart." With Guruji's words resonating deeply within her, Jyoti knew that her journey was far from over. She was ready to integrate the lessons she had learned into her life. As she looked out at the setting sun, she felt a profound sense of gratitude and excitement for the future, knowing that she had found her true path. It was time to leave the ashram and return to her family. Chapter 4. Jyoti spent hours on her makeup. She spent more time on that than on any other facet of her appearance. She wanted her skin to look smooth and her complexion to be dark like most of the women in her village. It took her longer than most women to achieve this look. She was cursed with light and somewhat rough skin. But the proper application of creams and oils helped. With perseverance, she could look as pretty as any Indian woman. The soft hum of the air conditioning filled the quiet room as Jyoti adjusted the delicate drape of her sari for what felt like the hundredth time. The rich burgundy fabric, embroidered with intricate gold patterns, flowed gracefully around her, making her feel both elegant and nervous.
Today, she would meet her fiance for the first time. An arranged marriage, orchestrated by her family, had led her to this moment of anticipation and uncertainty. It seemed so long ago since she had defied her family's wishes and traveled to the United States. She was thankful that she realized her mistake and returned to where she belonged. Jyoti still woke up on occasion with half-remembered dreams of being in America and acting like a man. They frightened her. She was embarrassed that she could ever act like that. She wished she could forget everything about her 'horrible' experiences in America. Jyoti stole a glance at her reflection in the ornate mirror. Her mother had insisted on the traditional bridal look, complete with gold jewelry and a delicate bindi gracing her forehead. Jyoti's long, dark hair was swept up into an elegant bun, adorned with fresh jasmine flowers. For a moment, she remembered having short hair and a lighter complexion. She pushed that memory out of her head. She took a deep breath, trying to steady the fluttering butterflies in her stomach. The door opened softly, and her mother peeked in, her face lighting up with a warm, encouraging smile. "Jyoti, they're here. Come, let's go," she said in Hindi, the only language that Jyoti understood. Jyoti followed her mother down the hallway, her heart pounding in her chest. As they reached the living room, she caught sight of her father engaged in conversation with an older couple. Her eyes scanned the room until they settled on a young man standing slightly apart from the group. He was tall, with a confident yet humble demeanor, dressed in a traditional kurta and churidar. His dark eyes met hers, and Jyoti felt a jolt of electricity course through her. There was a warmth in his gaze, a mixture of curiosity and kindness that instantly put her at ease. When she realized she was staring, her eyes darted downward. It wasn't proper for a young maiden to look directly into a man's eyes, not even her fiance's "Jyoti, this is Arjun," her father introduced, his voice filled with pride and hope. "Arjun, this is my daughter, Jyoti." Arjun stepped forward, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "Hello, Jyoti. It's a pleasure to meet you." "Hello," Jyoti managed to reply, her voice soft and a bit shaky. She felt an overwhelming sense of familiarity as if she had known him for a lifetime despite meeting him for the first time. Their parents encouraged them to sit and talk, giving them some privacy to get to know each other. As they moved to a quieter corner of the room, Arjun turned to her, his expression earnest and open. "I know this must be a bit overwhelming," he said gently. "But I believe our families have chosen well. I've heard wonderful things about you." Jyoti blushed, feeling a rush of emotions. "Yes, it's a bit overwhelming," she admitted. "But I'm hopeful. I trust my parents' judgment, I trust them in all things, and I'm looking forward to getting to know you." They talked for what felt like hours, discovering shared interests and values. Jyoti avoided mentioning her time in America. She learned that Arjun was a software engineer who loved classical music and had a passion for cooking. He spoke with genuine enthusiasm about his work and his hobbies, making her smile and laugh. Jyoti felt embarrassed that she could never be a mother. Her foolish adventure in America robbed her of that. She felt unworthy to be with such a fine young man as Arjun. As the conversation flowed, Jyoti found herself captivated by his sincerity and warmth. Arjun was attentive, listening intently to her stories and asking thoughtful questions. There was a natural ease between them, a connection that felt both comforting and exciting. Jyoti knew that this had been the first time they had ever met, but she felt like she met Arjun before. "Arjun," Jyoti looked deeply into his eyes and spoke in a serious tone. "there is something I have to tell you. I can never give you a son." "I know. I don't care." "You don't care?" "I want a son, but I want you more. We'll manage." Arjun's kind words touched Jyoti. She threw her head into his chest. Arjun hugged her. When it was time for Arjun and his family to leave, Jyoti felt a pang of reluctance. Arjun took her hand gently, his touch sending a thrill through her. "I look forward to seeing you again, Jyoti," he said, his voice filled with promise. "Me too," she replied, her heart swelling with newfound affection. As she watched him leave, Jyoti knew that this was the beginning of something beautiful. She had fallen in love instantly, not just with the idea of Arjun, but with the loving and caring person he had shown himself to be. At that moment, she felt grateful for the tradition that had brought them together and excited for the future that awaited them. End. |