Mixed Marriage and keys to Happiness

Mixed Marriage and
Keys to Happiness
A Story of One Asian Immigrant


By Tatiana Simbirtseva, Moscow

We are a mixed couple. I am Russian, 51, and my husband is an Indian, 64. We have been together for 12 years. We met in our mature age, so I did not know my husband when he, an 18-year old boy from a hot Asian country, first came to Moscow in 1963. He remembers it was snowing on the day of his arrival and it was the first snow he saw in his life. This unusual experience marked the beginning of his long travel inside another civilization, which has been lasting for more than 40 years already. This travel was sometimes exciting, sometimes tragic or troublesome. I can only sigh with pity that I was not with him then. Now, when I have got to know the life of my husband very well, I am sure that it deserves been described in a novel. The world is becoming very wide and simultaneously small. Millions of people leave for other countries in search of luck, happiness, peace, fortune, truth, faith, adventure and many other things… What should be preserved and what can be abandoned? What should an immigrant cherish? I feel that the story of my husband, which I describe below, can be a useful on-the-way reading for the world travelers.

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My husband was born in 1944 in an Indian family in Burma – a country, which is presently called Myanmar. That is why he has two names. One is Indian – Khanhaya, as his parents called him, and the second is Burmese – Aun. This name he chose himself when he got in touch with the Burmese people for whom pronunciation of Indian names was very difficult. I call him Aun. His native place was a distant village some hundred miles from Rangoon, where only Indian peasants lived. They were forcefully brought there to cultivate sugar cane in the time when India was a colony of England. Living in Burma they never mixed with Burmese and strictly preserved their national traditions. The village has not changed much since. There is still no electricity there, no TV or telephone and Aun, who graduated as an engineer from a university abroad, is remembered as one of most prominent fellow-villagers. At 7 Aun went to a primary Indian school in the neighborhood, which taught in Hindi. Four years later he entered a middle Burmese school and walked there seven kilometers every morning and back at daytime in any weather. Burmese language is very different from Hindi, but it was essential for an educated man in Myanmar, and soon Aun learned it very well. Now he says that it is his native tongue. At the middle school he got his first experience of another culture as his class-mates there were all Burmese. Aun had a passion for studying and was an excellent student, especially in mathematics. In his class he was surrounded with respect and thus his adjustment to the Burmese society was not difficult. Very early he got a dream of studying abroad. It was realized in 1963, when the new military government of Burma, which decided to build socialism in their country, sent him to the Soviet Union as one of the best school graduates. It was the time when many Asian countries sent their young people to the USSR to learn and gain experience of socialism. So Aun came to Moscow along with many Vietnamese, Mongol, Afghan and other Asians.

Tatiana and her husband, AunThey were complete strangers in Russia. From the first day here they got a lot of problems and food was most difficult of them. Asian food, especially Indian, is very hot. Russian food is unflavored. Russians don’t use spices, which are so essential for Indians. They also eat much beef, and Aun was a vegetarian. His parents were Hindu believers. This faith strictly prohibits eating meat in general and particularly cow flesh, which is perceived like eating one’s mother. Every time when Aun got to the eatery he got dizzy. The smell there seemed disgusting to him. For several days he could not make himself to eat even a piece. The same was with the other new-comers. So they began to search for a way out. The Vietnamese, who were most numerous and lived in a group, every day appointed a person in charge of the kitchen and by turns prepared collective morning and evening meals. Other students prepared food in their native style by themselves. It took a lot of time not only because of cooking but because there were no necessary ingredients in Moscow shops and the students had to hunt for them at private markets. Restaurants were scarce and very expensive. Some students could not stand those torments. They gave up the idea of studying in Russia and returned home.
“They never quarreled. Unanimity of views in upbringing children, mutual understanding and tolerance were the main things, which they treasured.”
Aun was the only Burmese student in his university and decided the food problem in his own way. “If I have come to study, I can’t spend time preparing food”, - he thought. So he began to eat in eateries together with his Russian classmates. It was not tasty, but saved time and money. Several weeks later the dizziness, which he felt every time when he got into the eatery, disappeared. In some months he started to eat beef. It was a big victory. His new habits allowed him to visit Russian houses. He made some local friends and met Masha – a Russian girl who worked in his university. They fell in love and settled together. Their family life started not without complications. Before Aun left for the USSR his father had signed an obligation that his son would not marry while studying abroad. Otherwise his father was to pay a big fine. An opinion prevailed that family was an obstacle to studying well. But any rule has an exception. Aun spoke Russian almost as a native and his marks were so excellent that a special permission to marry was granted to him by the Burmese government. He was invited to the embassy and an official there told him that it was an exceptional privilege for his excellent performance in the university. Aun married with Masha officially by the end of his studies.

By that time Aun had finally solved his food problem. He invented a sauce of bitter pepper, lemons and green tomatoes and prepared it in big quantities once a year in autumn when pepper was available in the market. He added it to Russian dishes and the new taste somehow reminded him of Indian food, which he missed. He was sure that people ate in order to live, but did not live in order to eat. Masha would have liked to cook Indian or Burmese food for him but a serious reason prevented her from any cooking. Soon after their first daughter was born she got a disease – asthma. Smells – spices, fried oil, soap, etc. - caused asphyxiation and threatened her condition. So Aun began to prepare food and wash clothes by turns with his mother-in-law. He was devoted, young, energetic and responsible, and the home routine did not seem boring to him. The thought that Masha needed him and relied on him made him even stronger. They enjoyed every minute together in spite of their sudden misfortune.

In 5 years Aun graduated from the university with highest marks and went to Burma with his family. Masha followed him without hesitation in spite of the fact that Burma was much poorer than the Soviet Union. They settled in Rangoon with his mother and younger brother, as his father had died by that time. Aun’s mother could neither read nor write but she was a wise woman. She cordially met her Russian daughter-in-law, prepared meals for all the family and never imposed her will on them. She suspected that her son had eaten beef in Russia but preferred never to ask about it in order to preserve peace in the family. Otherwise she would have to curse him for violation of faith. Remembering those years Aun says: “If you bring a foreign wife to your country you take a responsibility, which is much bigger than that of husbands in ordinary families. It’s double efforts. Not only you must provide for the family and train your wife to live in unknown surroundings. You also must train your relatives to treat her well and smooth cultural discrepancies. You become an intermediary and usually receive the first blow if their contact is not positive. Such an adjustment could last for years, but you should be persistent for the sake of your family”.
In Burma Aun worked as a civil officer. The salary was not enough for six people. They counted every penny, but neither poverty, not Masha’s disease, which steadily aggravated, disturbed their peace and harmony. They never quarreled. Unanimity of views in upbringing children, mutual understanding and tolerance were the main things, which they treasured. Being a good engineer, Aun arranged their small 2-room apartment in European style, which included lavatory, bathroom and other facilities, to which Masha had got used at home. She liked reading and they had a big collection of Russian books, which made their home look like a library. Being busy in the office and with the family in the evenings Aun wrote fiction at nights. He felt as if he had wings. In some years he was admitted into the Association of Burmese writers. His stories were gladly published by literary magazines. They brought little income but gave satisfaction and attracted new friends. Soon their second daughter, Sanda, was born. They lived in Burma for 7 years. At home they spoke mostly in Russian. Masha learned very little of Hindu or Burmese – enough to communicate with relatives and go to the market. Meanwhile Aun’s younger brother learned good Russian and his little daughters spoke Hindi and Burmese fluently and readily translated for their mother. Then her health began to deteriorate rapidly and they returned to Moscow in hope that change of climate would improve her condition. The hope turned to be vain. In 6 years she died. She was 38. Their 18-year-long married life was over. After her death Aun remained in Russia for ever. He began to work at the Radio Moscow World Service and grew his daughters alone. The girls forgot the Burmese language rather quickly, but they never forgot their experience at their father’s native country. It influenced their lives in future.

There was a rule in Russia till some years ago that people wrote their nationality in their passports. When Aun’s daughters became 16 and the time came to receive their passports the elder daughter Nila (with her pale skin she resembled her mother) wrote that she was “Russian” in her passport. The second daughter Sanda, who was swarthy and looked very much like her father, wrote that she was “an Indian”. This separation of nationalities turned to be symbolic. After graduating school, at 17, Sanda went to India to search for her roots. Aun supported her decision and provided her with money necessary to pay for living and education. Sanda learned Hindi, studied for 4 years and graduated from Delhi University with a ‘tourism manager’ diploma. She also married a nice Indian man - Harry. His parents, provincial nobility, were against their marriage but they had to put up with it when their two grandchildren were born. Harry was a capable engineer and wanted to establish his own business. Aun adviced him to come to Russia. “If you manage to run your business successfully in Russia, which is in transition period from socialist system to capitalism and business is very complicated, you’ll be able to prosper anywhere”, - these were his words. Harry followed the advice. He came to Moscow, hired a very qualified teacher of Russian and began to speak rather fluently in less than half year. Soon he established a company, which sold communication equipment, and gained recognition as a highly qualified expert in his field. Sanda helped him in the office and took care of the household. After 10 years in Moscow they returned to India. I remember our last meeting before their departure. It was Sanda’s birthday. When all the guests were seated, Harri took his cup of wine and looking at his wife said: “I drink it for you. You’re my everything”. I was greatly moved by his words as Asian men seldom say beautiful words to their wives.

Now Sanda, Harry and their daughter of 15 and son of 13 live in Bangalore, India, together with his parents. At home they speak Hindi and English and actively communicate in Russian with relatives in Moscow. Aun’s eldest daughter Nila lives in Moscow. As Sanda has not become a ‘complete Indian’ Nila is not a ‘complete Russian’. She also married an Indian man, who is a doctor. I feel that Aun, their Indian father, once and for all set an example for his children and greatly influenced their choice of spouses. Nila has 4 children, speaks fluent Hindi, wears Indian traditional clothes ‘sari’ at home and prepares tasty Indian dishes. Generally speaking, both Aun’s daughters live in the world where Indian and Russian cultures are equally present, and their children speak languages of both parents.

Is it necessary to teach the mother’s (father’s) language, if the family lives in the father’s (mother’s) country? Judging by his experience Aun answers the following: “It is desirable. The world is wide. Life is complicated and it may happen so that people have to move from the father’s native country to that of the mother. Mastering mother’s language is an obvious advantage in such a case. But it is not an indispensable condition of human happiness. Not every mixed family has an opportunity to teach languages to their children. No need to be too much upset because of it. As Sanda’s example proves, the other parent’s language can be learned when the child grows up. On the other hand, it may never be learned at all. To my mind, the main thing, which we can do for our children, is to plant an interest to the family origins and respect to cultures of both parents from early years. Such family education enriches children’s personality; makes them tolerant, flexible, open-minded, receptive. These qualities of character create a firm basis for their future success in this quickly changing and globalizing world”. ###