Today's mail brought a letter from Helen Singh, a friend I met when I went to college at the University of South Dakota. We had kept in touch for decades later, often only with yearly Christmas cards, and then it all came to an end. The Christmas card I sent came back from Las Vegas, where she had been living, and I never found out what happened.
Meanwhile, she was trying to send me letters that I never got. Today I found out that she had my street number wrong, but this time, the carrier was someone who knew me and now Helen and I have once again connected.
Helen came to South Dakota from Calcutta in the early 70's with her husband who had been accepted as a graduate student in the law department. It was a strange new world for Helen who came from the Brahmin caste in India. She had been raised in a privileged family but now she was in a small town in a rented house. She had to learn how to cook and told me she always ended the meals she served her son and her husband with Pepto Bismol.
She had worked as a secretary in India and now got a job as the receptionist in the psychology department. I had friends there, plus the little trailer house I lived in was next to the Singhs' house. We became great friends, though she was a bit older than I was.
She was 45 and past child rearing age so her husband felt she was of no interest. That is, until male students began to swarm around the desk of this beautiful and exotic woman with her big dark eyes and black hair. One day, she had a red dot on her forehead. "Oh, N.N. (no one could announce his real name) wanted everyone to know I was married." These days, of course, the bindi has multiple meanings and it is sometimes simply worn for decoration. It made no difference, none of the students understood anything about the bindi so it had no effect whatsoever on them except to make her more interesting.
Helen bloomed in the United States, becoming more and more liberated. It didn't help having me around because I was up for anything. For instance, I took Helen to her first porn movie. It wasn't much because this was South Dakota and the film was so heavily censored it was only half an hour long, but she loved being daring.
She gave me two saris that I still have and showed me how to wear them. She explained that in mixed company both shoulders were often covered, though not the right shoulder in cosmopolitan areas. Married women covered their heads with the end of the sari. I wore one of the saris when we attended a foreign students' party at the student union. There were foods, decorations, and music from around the world. Some Indian students were there from the University at Brookings, South Dakota and they were all whispering and pointing at me. I thought they were admiring my beautiful sari but Helen hurried over to tell me these were boys from a country province and my bare right shoulder was upsetting them.
There were girls wearing hot pants, which were short shorts, but my bare shoulder embarrassed them!
There were so many good times with Helen. I'm glad we're friends again.
Meanwhile, she was trying to send me letters that I never got. Today I found out that she had my street number wrong, but this time, the carrier was someone who knew me and now Helen and I have once again connected.
Helen came to South Dakota from Calcutta in the early 70's with her husband who had been accepted as a graduate student in the law department. It was a strange new world for Helen who came from the Brahmin caste in India. She had been raised in a privileged family but now she was in a small town in a rented house. She had to learn how to cook and told me she always ended the meals she served her son and her husband with Pepto Bismol.
She had worked as a secretary in India and now got a job as the receptionist in the psychology department. I had friends there, plus the little trailer house I lived in was next to the Singhs' house. We became great friends, though she was a bit older than I was.
She was 45 and past child rearing age so her husband felt she was of no interest. That is, until male students began to swarm around the desk of this beautiful and exotic woman with her big dark eyes and black hair. One day, she had a red dot on her forehead. "Oh, N.N. (no one could announce his real name) wanted everyone to know I was married." These days, of course, the bindi has multiple meanings and it is sometimes simply worn for decoration. It made no difference, none of the students understood anything about the bindi so it had no effect whatsoever on them except to make her more interesting.
Helen bloomed in the United States, becoming more and more liberated. It didn't help having me around because I was up for anything. For instance, I took Helen to her first porn movie. It wasn't much because this was South Dakota and the film was so heavily censored it was only half an hour long, but she loved being daring.
She gave me two saris that I still have and showed me how to wear them. She explained that in mixed company both shoulders were often covered, though not the right shoulder in cosmopolitan areas. Married women covered their heads with the end of the sari. I wore one of the saris when we attended a foreign students' party at the student union. There were foods, decorations, and music from around the world. Some Indian students were there from the University at Brookings, South Dakota and they were all whispering and pointing at me. I thought they were admiring my beautiful sari but Helen hurried over to tell me these were boys from a country province and my bare right shoulder was upsetting them.
There were girls wearing hot pants, which were short shorts, but my bare shoulder embarrassed them!
There were so many good times with Helen. I'm glad we're friends again.
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